The Bachelor - Episode 1 | Limo Arrivals
the bachelor masterlist
pairings: rafe cameron x female!reader
words: 5.0k
The villa glowed like a dream under the night sky, golden light spilling down the grand staircase, flickering against the perfectly manicured hedges. It looked like something out of a fairytale or a reality show. Which, you reminded yourself, it very much was.
Inside the limo, the energy had shifted. The jokes were quieter now, nerves humming in the space between the women seated shoulder to shoulder, careful not to wrinkle dresses or smear lipstick. You sat with your hands folded in your lap, pretending to be calm, eyes fixed on the window as the mansion grew larger with each turn of the tires.
“I can’t believe he’s actually waiting out there.” One girl whispered, breathless. “What if I blank out and forget my name?” “What if he’s not even cute in person?”
A few of them laughed too loud. One girl was already reapplying gloss for the third time. You just breathed in slowly and tried to quiet your heartbeat.
This wasn’t supposed to be real.
You hadn’t imaged it going further than a funny story between you and your best friend. But then came the callback…. and the second one… and the whirlwind that brought you here. And now, you were about to step out of a limo and meet a man the rest of America would be watching you fall in love or fail with.
Your name was called.
The door opened.
The air hit your skin first, cool, slightly floral from the rose arrangements lining the path. The mansion towered in the distance. But all you saw was him.
Rafe Cameron.
He stood at the end of the driveaway in a tailored black suite, his posture relaxed but solid. Not trying too hard. Not posturing for the camera. And somehow, that made it worse.
Your breath hitched.
And when your heels hit the driveaway, his head turned toward you instantly.
Your pulse kicked up, but you smiled as you approached, keeping your stride steady. Shoulders back. Voice ready.
“Hey there,” you said, letting your eyes meet his and hold.
“Hey,” he replied, eyes not leaving yours. “I’m Rafe.”
“I know,” you teased, with a quick grin. “Kind of hard to miss the guy everyone’s here for.”
That earned a smile from him real and fast in the best way.
“And you are…?”
“Y/N. From Staten Island.”
“Staten Island,” he repeated, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“That’s the fun part,” you said, stepping a little closer. “I’m full of surprises.”
“Good,” he said, a little slower now. “I like surprises.”
There was a beat of silence, not awkward, just charged.
You pulled back just a hair, still smiling. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it. Thirty-one more names to remember.”
Rafe grinned. “Something tells me yours won’t be hard to remember.”
You paused at that, feeling the weight of the moment shift. You weren’t expecting that, not so soon. But there it was.
You glanced over your shoulder as you turned toward the mansion. “We’ll see if you still remember it later.”
“I will,” he said quiet, certain, just loud enough for you to hear.
And you believed him.
Because as you walked away, you could feel it. The unmistakable heat of someone still watching.
Inside the villa, the energy was electric, almost humming. Twinkling lights wrapped around beams, champagne flutes lined the trays of perfectly dressed servers, and soft lounge music played underneath the buzz of whispered nerves.
You stood just off to the side of the grand foyer, heels planted, fingers curled loosely around a glass of something bubbly. A producer had gently nudged you into your mark, then disappeared, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts... and a wide-open view of the driveway.
The limo door opened again.
“That’s Samantha Jamerson,” someone whispered behind you. “She’s the model. From Dallas.”
Samantha stepped out like she was walking onto a runway — head high, hair glossy under the lights, dress clinging in all the right places. She wore confidence like perfume.
“Okay,” you muttered to yourself. “Not intimidating at all.”
Another girl followed just moments later — Evalin Rossio, the makeup artist from Burbank. Her entrance was bolder, more theatrical. She strutted up to Rafe in sparkling heels, handed him a lipstick tube, and said something you couldn’t hear… but whatever it was, it made him laugh.
You exhaled through your nose. Lightly. Casually.
Then came Daisy Cameron.
She stepped out of the limo with the kind of grace that made the air feel quieter for a second — all smooth lines and timeless beauty in a butter-yellow satin gown. She didn’t rush. Every step felt intentional, like she’d been here before in some other life.
In her hands, she held a single white gardenia.
When she reached Rafe, she didn’t say anything right away. Just offered him the flower, eyes locked on his in a way that was soft, but piercing.
“A gardenia,” she said finally, voice low. “It means ‘secret love’... or ‘a new beginning,’ depending on who you ask.”
Rafe smiled slowly, clearly taken off guard. “Which one are you offering me?”
She leaned in just close enough for the cameras, not close enough to make it desperate.
“That’s up to you, isn’t it?”
And just like that, she turned and walked toward the mansion without another word.
There was a beat of silence. Even from a distance, you could see the way Rafe looked after her, a little surprised, a little intrigued.
“Okay, wow,” someone muttered behind you.
You didn’t respond, just took a slow sip of champagne and glanced at the doors as they opened for the next woman. Because it was clear now:
Every girl here had their version of “memorable.” The real question was, would it last?
The living room of the villa was warm with light and filled with too many beautiful women to count. Glittering dresses caught the glow of chandeliers, laughter buzzed softly in every corner, and champagne flowed like nerves — constantly and without warning.
You stood near the edge of a sitting area, fingers curled around the stem of your glass, quietly taking it all in. A few cameras hovered, not too close, but always there. You were still trying to ignore them.
“This place is insane,” a voice said beside you — low, friendly, with a quiet kind of warmth.
You turned and found a woman already smiling at you. She wore a soft mauve dress, her hair pulled into a loose braid. There was something open and real about her — the kind of presence that calmed you, not challenged you.
“Daniella,” she offered. “ICU nurse. From Minnesota. And currently trying to keep my blood pressure under control.”
You gave her a smile back. “Same. I mean, not the nurse part. Just.. all of this.”
“I feel like I’ve been holding my breath since I got out of the limo,” she added, laughing lightly. “Is it weird to admit I keep forgetting there are cameras?”
“Not weird. It’s either that or pretend they’re part of the furniture.”
Daniella laughed again and just like that, you felt your shoulders relax a little.
A third woman joined you moments later. Tall, sleek, confident but not in a way that made you feel small. She had a designer look and a warm smile to match.
“You two look like you’re actually enjoying yourselves,”
“We’re faking it well,” you replied.
“Good. That’s basically the job tonight.” She extended a hand. “Kayla. Interior design. L.A. You?”
“Y/N,” you answered. “New York.”
“Daniella, from Minnesota.”
The three of you stood there a moment longer, sipping drinks, trying to act like the cameras weren’t tucked behind potted palms and over shoulders. Laughter echoed from somewhere near the fireplace as a cluster of women posed for photos and took turns casually peeking at the front door.
“Do you think he’ll come in and grab someone right away?” Daniella asked softly.
“Maybe,” Kayla replied. “If he’s smart, he’ll start with someone unforgettable.”
They didn’t say it, but the unspoken words hung between you; and we’re all hoping that’s us.
You stayed quiet, letting their voices drift around you, eyes flicking once toward the front entrance.
The final woman had made her entrance. You couldn’t even remember her name, just that her gown shimmered like glitter under a spotlight and her laughter carried through the driveaway like she was already winning.
Inside the mansion, the air had shifted.
Everyone knew what was coming.
A hush fell over the room when Jesse Palmer stepped into the center of it all, dressed in a dark suit, face calm but with that unmistakable glint of drama in his eyes.
“Ladies,” he said with a warm smile, “welcome to night one.”
A few soft cheers and nervous laughs through the crowd.
“Tonight, you’ll each have a chance to spend one-on-one with Rafe. Make the most of it. He’s here to find something real. And at the end of the night…”
He paused for full effect.
“.. Rafe will be handing out the first roses of the season.”
Your stomach twisted slightly. You knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud made it hit different. It wasn’t just nerves anymore, it was pressure.
Jesse gave a small nod along with a soft smile, then stepped aside.
And then, Rafe walked in.
He looked sharp, dark jacket, shirt unbuttoned just enough to keep it relaxed. But it wasn’t just the way he looked. It was the way he moved through the room. Calm. Confident. Collected. His eyes scanned the space, landing briefly on each woman, but when they passed over you, they paused.
Just a beat longer than everyone else.
It wasn’t dramatic, and you were sure half of the room didn’t notice.
But you did.
He picked up a glass from a nearby tray, and the rest of you followed. Flutes clinked together softly.
“Thank you all for being here,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “I know how much courage it takes to put yourself out there like this and I don’t take that for granted. I came here because I’ve spent most of my life building something. A company. A future. But I want more than that now. I crave more.”
His gaze moved through the crowd.
“I want to build something real. With someone. I don’t know how this will unfold. But I’m here with an open heart.. and I hope you are too.”
The group murmured softly. Glasses lifted.
“To something real,” Rafe said.
“To something real,” the women echoed.
You sipped your drink, heart tight in your chest.
And just like that, the cocktail party really began.
Time passed like it was both racing and crawling. Rafe was pulled almost immediately. First by Zoe, a fiery brunette from Miami who wasted no time claiming her spot. Everyone pretended not to notice. No one succeeded.
You hovered near Daniella and Kayla, watching as one by one women made their move. Some subtle. Some not at all. There was laughing. Playful touches. A few over-rehearsed lines that landed like a scripted TV.
Then Zoe returned.
Her lipstick was smudged just lightly. Her smile? Smug.
“You guys,” she announced, fanning herself with her hand. “Let’s just say… first night magic is real.”
Gasps and squeals rippled through the group. You watched the reactions more than you watched her.
“You kissed him?” Someone on the couch asked, eyebrows raised.
Zoe shrugged, like it was no big deal. “It just happened.”
You turned your face away slightly, hiding the sudden knot of anxiety bloomed in your chest. You didn’t expect to feel… this. Not yet. But you did. And it was real.
So when the timing felt right after another girl returned, giddy and breathless – you stepped away from the group.
You spotted him near the edge of the patio, half in shadow, glass in hand, eyes scanning the lights twinkling in the distance like he was trying to slow the night down.
Maybe it was bold, maybe it was overdue. But your heels clicked against the stone like a quiet declaration as you stepped toward him.
He turned to face you, and there it was again. That small shift in his expression when he saw you. Like the air had changed.
“I was hoping you would,” he said.
He placed his drink on the railing behind him, then stepped closer his hand grazing lightly across your bare back as he guided you forward. The gesture was effortless, almost instinctive, but it send a hum down your spine.
He led you to a quieter corner of the terrace, where fairy lights dangled over low-hanging vines and the music from inside was just a whisper. It felt like your own little pocked of the night.
You sat beside him, just far enough not to touch, but close enough to feel the tension humming in the space between.
“So, Staten Island,” he said, smiling as he leaned back. “I’ve been thinking about that all night.”
“You say that like I’m a rare species.”
“Maybe you are,” he shot back, grinning. “Okay, let’s trade,” he said, turning slightly to face you. “One thing you actually like about where you’re from?”
You paused for a second, then nodded. “The honesty. People don’t pretend much. What you see is what you get.”
“That explains a lot about you, actually.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Definitely.”
You smiled at that, ducking your head a little. “Alright, your turn. Tell me something about you that no one probably expects.”
He leaned in a touch, not enough to close the gap, but enough to feel intentional.
“I go off-grid once a year. No phone, no emails. Just me and the woods. Camping, hiking, chopping firewood, the whole thing.”
Your eyebrows rose. “Wait, like actual camping? In a tent?”
“Tent, hammock, sometimes just a sleeping bag if I’m cocky.”
You laughed. “I pictures you more… five-star hotel with a view.”
“I do like a view,” he said, eyes locking on yours for a second too long. “Just depends on the company.”
Your breath caught slightly. You leaned back, your gaze steady on his. “Alright, Mr. Off-Grid. My turn again.”
He tilted his head, amused. “Hit me.”
“What’s your biggest red flag?”
He grinned. “What, you mean besides agreeing to date thirty-two women on TV?”
You raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “I said red flag, not suicide mission.”
He laughed low, “Fair, I guess.. I like control. More than I should, probably.”
“Ah,” you said, swirling your drink. “So you’re a bit of a menace too.”
“Maybe,” he said eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion. “But not in broad daylight.”
You smirked. “Coward.”
He mirrored your expression. “Okay then. Same question. What’s your red flag?”
You shrugged, unapologetic. “I know what I want. And I say it. Some men find that… unsettling.”
Rafe’s eyes glinted. “Sounds like clarity to me.”
“Dangerous word,” you said. “People say they want honesty, but they really want reassurance.”
He studied you for a beat, “And what do you want?”
You tilted your head, keeping him in your sights. “Someone who can keep up.”
He chuckled under his breath. “That sounds like a dare.”
“It might be,” you said, your tone light, but your gaze unflinching.
A beat of silence passed between you. Not awkward, not expectant, just charged.
He leaned in slightly, enough to blur the line between playful and something more pointed. His knuckles brushed the bench between you.
You held his gaze, not flinching. “You always stare like that.”
“Only when someone’s making it interesting.”
You smiled slowly. “And how am I doing?”
He opened his mouth like he was going to answer, but then;
“Hi,” came a voice from a few feet away. Soft, but clearly practiced. One of the other women, stepping forward with a polite-but-not-really smile. “Sorry to interrupt.. would it be okay if I grabbed you for a minute?”
Rafe turned to her immediately, respectful, gracious even. “Yeah, of course?” Then back to you. “I owe you a rematch.”
You gave him a lazy smile, playful but grounded. “Good. I wasn’t finished winning.”
He laughed under his breath, and with a parting glance.
You leaned back, lips still curved, the buzz of the conversation lingering on your skin like static.
Confessional – Rafe
He sits on the velvet chair, jacket unbuttoned.
“She’s… sharp,” he says, almost to himself first. Then he looks up at the camera. “Y/N’s not trying to impress me. It’s like she showed up and decided to see if I was worth her time.”
He laughs, shaking his head.
“And that kind of honesty? It’s rare and bold. And yeah I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already thinking about the next time I get her alone.”
Back at the Cocktail party
You made your way back toward the main crowd, heels clicking with a little more ease than when you’d walked out. As you approached the couches near the fire pit, Kayla spotted you first and raised an eyebrow.
“Well?”
You dropped into the cushion between her and Daniella, crossing your legs slowly. “We talked.”
Daniella leaned in. “That’s all we’re getting? You were gone for, like, twenty minutes.”
“I mean… it was a good talk,” you said, playing it cool but the edge of your mouth betrayed you. A hint of smile. Just enough
“Oh my god, you like him,” Kayla gasped, pointing at you.
You held up a hand. “Relax. I don’t even know him.”
“Mm-hm,” Daniella said, sipping her drink. “But you’re thinking about it.”
You let out a breath and looked toward the patio, where Rafe was now laughing with someone else.
“He’s… sharp,” you finally said. “Smarter than I expected.”
“And hot,” Kayla added helpfully.
Daniella nudged her. “Let her pretend she’s deep.”
You rolled your eyes. “He’s more than just charming. That’s rare for me.”
There was a pause, then Kayla said, “So.. do you think you’ve got a shot?”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you swirled the ice in your drink and glanced at the cluster of women still waiting their turn.
“If I want it?” you said. “Yeah. I think I do.”
Daniella raised her brows. “Damn.”
Kayla grinned. “Guess we’ll all just try not to take it personally.”
You gave her a look. “Oh, come on. You think I’m scared of a little healthy competition?”
Daniella raised her brows. “You’ve gotten way too calm. Like suspiciously calm.”
You shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips. “I’m here to make a connection, and if he sees it too, great. If not? His loss.”
Kayla let out a low whistle. “Okay, cool girl. Coaching session, please.”
You glanced out toward the patio, where Rafe was still talking to a blonde girl, laughing at something she’d said, charming. As always, too charming.
“Honestly?” you said, shifting to face Daniella. “You should go next.”
Daniella blinked. “What? No, I’m not even sure what I’d say. I was gonna wait till it felt more natural.”
“Natural is a myth on this show,” you said, gently but firmly. “You think anyone’s first rose comes from waiting around to be noticed? If you want time, go take it babe.”
“She’s right,” Kayla added.
“I just don’t want to be that girl,” Daniella said.
You leaned forward, voice softer now. “That girl gets to figure out if she actually likes him, not just the idea of him. You deserve that chance.”
Daniella looked between you and Kayla, then out at the patio.
“You’re sure it won’t come off… pushy?”
“You’re not interrupting a marriage proposal,” you said. “It’s five minutes of conversation. Go claim your five.”
Kayla reached over and gave Daniella’s shoulder a squeeze. “Honestly, the way he looked at you when you walked in earlier? I’d bet on you.”
That earned a small, nervous smile from Daniella. But it grew into something steadier.
“Okay,” she said, standing and brushing invisible lint off her dress. “Okay. You’re right. I’m gonna go.”
You raised your glass to her like a salute. “Make him forget his own name.”
Kayla laughed, and Daniella tosses you both a grateful glance before walking toward the patio with quiet determination.
Once she was out of earshot, Kayla leaned in and whispered, “You’re dangerous when you go into hype mode.”
You just smirked and sipped your drink. “I like knowing the right women are getting in the room.”
Kayla gave you a sideways look. “So what happens if it comes down to all three of us?”
You didn’t blink. “Then may the best woman win.”
There was a beat of silence, thick with understanding — not rivalry, but respect.
Then, clinking glasses again, Kayla said, “To playing smart.”
You grinned. “To playing well.”
Not far off, pockets of women had formed. Clusters of sequins and bare shoulders catching the firelight. Laughter rose and fell in waves, paired with the occasional anxious glance toward the patio.
Near the charcuterie table, two women stood shoulder to shoulder, nibbling nervously on crackers more out of habit than hunger.
“I swear I blacked out the second he looked at me,” one said with a laugh, covering her face. “Did I even speak? I can’t tell.”
“You smiled. A lot.” The women next to her assured her, nudging her gently. “And you didn’t trip. That’s already a win.”
Across the way, three women lounged on a circular couch, shoes kicked off and tucked beneath them.
“I keep telling myself I’m not going to spiral,” one was saying, twirling the straw in her drink. “but then I see another girl walk off with him and it’s like okay, I’m spiralling.”
The girl beside her hummed in agreement. “Same. But also, like.. how do you even stand out without being that girl?”
The third gave a half-shrug. “You just be you. The right energy finds its match, right?”
They nodded, and for a moment, the conversation settled into a quiet kind of calm nerves shared out loud always seemed a little smaller.
At the edge of the group, someone pulled out a tube of lip gloss and offered it around. Another handed over blotting paper, small but familiar rituals. The kind women learn to perform for each other in rooms like this.
“I think Daniella’s out there with him now,” someone murmured.
A few heads turned. One girl smiled. “Good. I liked her vibe. She deserves her moment.”
“Totally. She’s sweet. I hope she kills it. But like... also, I hope I get my moment too.”
Someone raised a glass. “To our own damn fairy tales.”
They clinked glasses gently, not as a toast to rivalry, but to resilience.
And just like that, the night moved on. Full of eyes watching doors, hands smoothing dresses and hearts trying not to hope too loudly.
You were curled into one of the velvet sofas with Kayla and Daniella when the room shifted.
The conversations dimmed. The posture of every woman sharpened.
Jesse Palmer stepped through the open archway, carrying it.
The First Impression Rose. It sat atop a sleek white marble platter.
You sat up straighter. Everyone did.
“Ladies,” Jesse said, glancing around the room. “Rafe has made a decision.”
A pause just long enough for tension to ripple across the group.
“He is ready to give out the First Impression Rose.”
He placed the platter down on the marble coffee table, the rose bright against the glass surface.
And then, without another word, Jesse walked out, leaving the rose in the center of the room like a lit fuse.
The quiet buzz that followed was unmistakable. Nervous laughter. Crossed legs uncrossed, then crossed again. Someone sat up, smoothing her dress without realizing it.
“Is he coming in here to give it out?” one girl whispered.
But before anyone could answer, Rafe stepped into the room.
Tall. Composed. Smile relaxed, but unreadable.
“Evening, ladies,” he said smoothly.
A few voices returned his greeting. Most just watched.
He walked toward the rose with even steps, paused, and looked down at it. Then, without saying a word, he picked it up.
And turned around.
He left the room.
For a second, no one moved.
Then –
“Wait, he’s not giving it to someone in here?” “Awch.” “Oh my God. Who is he going to?”
Chairs shifted. A few girls leaned toward the windows.
You turned your head just in time to catch a glimpse of him outside, walking across the patio, rose in hand.
And there, near the string-lit reflecting pool, stood Sierra.
She turned as he approached. And you didn’t need to hear the words to know exactly what was happening.
He held the rose out. She nodded. He smiled.
It was clean. Quiet.
A flicker sparkled low in your chest. Not jealousy, not really. Just that quiet, steady drumbeat of not this time. You sipped your drink. This was only the beginning.
Confessional - Rafe (after handing out the First Impression Rose)
Rafe is seated comfortably, bowtie slightly loosened, hand still resting loosely on his knee like he hasn’t fully come down from the night.
“Giving that first rose... it’s a weird pressure. You want to trust your gut, but you’re also very aware that thirty-one other people are watching.”
He smiles slightly, thoughtful.
“Sierra felt grounded. There’s something warm and steady about her energy. That stood out.”
A pause. He glances off-camera, then back.
“But there were other moments tonight… ones I’m still thinking about. There’s a lot I haven’t figured out yet.”
The clinking of glasses quieted the moment Jesse Palmer stepped into the villa, dressed in a sharp black suit and wearing the kind of practiced calm that only came with hosting this exact moment many times before.
“Ladies,” he said, voice even but charged with gravity. “I hope tonight brought you clarity, connection… and hopefully a little fun.”
A few soft laughs floated through the room some sincere, some strained. Eyes darted from one face to another. Makeup was still fresh, but nerves had started to show.
Jesse’s gaze swept the room before continuing. “As you know, Rafe has already given out the First Impression Rose.”
You didn’t need to look, you already knew where Sierra was standing, her rose pressed to the front of her dress. She smiled gently as a few girls glanced her way. You couldn’t blame them.
Production had gathered all thirty-two of you together now. A single room, no more movement, no more distractions. This was it. The waiting was done.
Jesse turned slightly, angling toward the open doors behind him.
“And with that,” he said, “it’s time for the next step.”
Outside, Rafe stood just past the threshold, tall, steady, hands clasped loosely in front of him. There was a subtle shift in the air the second his eyes scanned the room, like the weight of the evening had finally settled on everyone’s shoulders.
“This journey starts fast,” Jesse said, voice steady, “and it starts now.”
He turned to Rafe with a small nod.
“Rafe, I’ll turn it over to you for your second decision of the night — the First Rose Ceremony.”
A few girls straightened their spines. One adjusted the hem of her dress. No one breathed too loudly.
“Rafe,” Jesse said, “whenever you’re ready.”
“Hi, everyone,” he said, voice smooth but a little tentative.
A chorus of voices replied all at once: “Hiiiii.”
It came from all corners of the room soft, sweet, slightly sing-song. The kind of collective response that only thirty-two women standing in full glam under a chandelier could produce.
Rafe let out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I’m still not used to that,” he said. “Not sure I ever will be.”
A few girls giggled. The room relaxed. Just a notch.
Then he took a small step forward, glancing around the room letting the quiet settle for a moment.
“I know this was a long night,” he said, his voice a little more grounded now. “And I just want to say thank you. I don’t take any of this lightly. The time you’ve all put in, the nerves, the conversations, everything.”
His eyes scanned the faces across from him.
“You’re all incredible in your own ways. And I’m really sorry if tonight doesn’t go the way you hoped. Just know that I see you. And I appreciate you.”
A beat passed. Then he turned toward the pedestal and reached for the first rose.
The first name called: “Talia.”
A brunette in a crimson dress stepped forward, visibly relieved.
“Talia,” Rafe said gently, “will you accept this rose?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling only slightly.
“Selene.” “Will you accept this rose?” “Yes.”
A few names later:
“Y/N.”
Your name settled into the room like a bell struck once: clear, resonant, and undeniably real.
You stepped forward, pulse steady despite the anticipation crawling over your skin.
“Y/N,” he said, voice low but sure. “Will you accept this rose?”
You didn’t blink. “I will.”
The rose was light in your hand. The meaning behind it, not so much.
You returned to your place in the line, careful to keep your expression composed, but your fingers curled just slightly tighter around the stem than necessary.
Confessional – Y/N
The camera cuts to Y/N, sitting in the velvet chair. Her heels are off, tucked beside her. She’s calm, but her eyes are sharp.
“I’d be lying if I said the First Impression Rose didn’t sting a little. It’s not jealousy… it’s just this weird feeling of ‘okay, so this is how it’s going to go.’”
She breathes out a laugh, small but real.
“But I got a rose. And I got time with him. Real time. So I’m not worried. If anything, I’m just more... curious. Because I think he sees it too. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.”
Present
“Kayla.”
She let out a soft breath and walked up with a confident, steady step. “Will you accept this rose?” “Absolutely.”
Confessional – Kayla
Kayla sits comfortably, legs crossed, one hand fidgeting with a ring on her finger.
“Tonight was… intense. It’s easy to forget how fast it all moves until you’re standing there waiting to hear your name.”
She lets out a breathy laugh, glancing up like she’s replaying something.
Present
“Daniella.”
Her smile bloomed genuinely hopeful. “Will you accept this rose?” “Yes. Thank you.”
Confessional – Daniella
Daniella sits forward in the chair, her rose still in her hand like she hasn’t let herself fully relax yet. Her hair is slightly looser, but her smile is calm, earned.
“I almost didn’t do it. I kept waiting for the right time like it would just open up perfectly for me. But this place doesn’t work like that. You either step in… or you watch someone else take the shot you wanted.”
She glances down at the rose, then back up with a quiet kind of pride.
“He saw me. Not just physically like, actually saw me. And that five-minute conversation? It changed the whole night.”
Back to the Ceremony
One by one, the roses were handed out. Gratitude, nerves, hope, each layered thick in the air as the room slowly thinned.
The final rose sat alone on the pedestal when Jesse stepped forward again.
“Ladies,” he said, “this is the final rose tonight.”
Everyone stilled.
It was offered. Accepted. And just like that, it was done.
The women who hadn’t been called; Samantha, Jess, Rachel, Erika, Olivia, Evalin, Christen, Whitney, Holland, and Allie were gently escorted aside. Hugs exchanged.
You glanced sideways, finding Kayla and Daniella among the crowd. They each held their roses like little promises. And somewhere behind your ribs, something softened, then sharpened again.
This was only the beginning. And you were still standing.
authors note: i'd love to hear what you all think of this first episode. your feedback means so much and is always appreciated! I hope you enjoyed it. please feel free to send me your thoughts on what you'd like to see in this series—specific date ideas, slow-burn romances, potential drama, anything you’re craving!
fun fact: I’ve only seen one season of The Bachelor years ago, so this is just as much of a wild ride for me as it is for you. thanks so much for all the love!
important note: if you’d like to be added, please send me a message or comment under this post! please also make sure you follow, comment and interact so you can get tagged and stay tagged. 💖
the bachelor taglist: @xoxo4chrisss @serendippindots @akobx @wandabillywrites @drewsephrry @justdamnpeachy @thewackywriter @drewsphswife @astridwisp @carisd @itsamusical4lifee @ts1mp0ne @fairyjinn @chaotickittenanchor @sophiesmovingcastle5 @saviorcomplexrry @smutwzrd @destinymoena @alinavalentine @lumbiiii @xeneasworld @earth2azi @watashiwastarr