Bilssturns - Rubyjanee

Off Camera

Drew Starkey x actress!reader

summary: you're a little nervous for your upcoming sex scene with your boyfriend

a/n: idk if this is even good but here!

The words of your script came out as mere mumbles as you prepped for the upcoming scene. You were pulled out of your thoughts when Drew took a seat in his designated chair. Even the crew knew how much he couldn’t stay away from you, to the point that they always placed your chairs next to each other. Fiddling with the belt of your fluffy blue robe, you felt the cool metal of your boyfriend's rings as his hand intertwined with yours. Drew brought your hand to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

“Hi,” you mumbled quietly.

“You feeling alright about our scene, baby?” Drew asked, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your hand.

Finally tearing your eyes away from the paper, you looked at the blonde. “Just a little nervous.”

“It’ll be great. You’ve got this,” he soothed. “You always do. Plus, we’re not doing anything we haven’t done for real before.” His grin widened at the blush spreading across your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but giggle, playfully smacking his arm. “Drew!”

“I’m just telling the truth here, babe.” He smirked at your mortified expression. “We’ve done scenes like this since season one. Why’s it bothering you now?” he asked, his tone softening.

“It’s just that we’re public now, y’know? So everyone is gonna have their eyes on us,” you answered shyly.

“We—you—have got this,” he assured you with a grin, adding, “I love you, and the fans love you.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “I love you so much,” grounding yourself with the words.

A PA called you and Drew to set, giving you both a brief overview of the scene, which involved a secret meeting between your character and Rafe, away from the other Pogues. The set, meant to be Rafe’s room at Tannyhill, felt familiar and convincingly like a real guy’s bedroom.

You two sat on the bed, still in your robes, as the director explained his vision, using words like “intimate,” “restrained,” and “crossing a line.” Drew squeezed your hand, keeping your mind from wandering anxiously.

As a courtesy, the intimacy coordinator reviewed the blocking—where hands would go, how close you’d be, and the exact choreography of the scene.

Finally shedding your robe, you were left in black lace panties and one of Drew’s—well, Rafe’s tees. Drew mirrored your actions, shrugging off his robe to reveal his shirtless torso and a pair of gingham boxers.

You watched as your boyfriend laid back against the pillows, propping himself against the headboard. Crawling into his lap, you straddled his long body, nervously biting your lip.

As soon as your eyes met those familiar cerulean ones, you felt safe in the scene, the weight of all the eyes around you fading.

The director called, “ACTION!” and Drew’s eyes darkened as he transformed into Rafe.

Rafe, as per the script, was zoned out, a prop joint between his fingers, not paying attention to your character. Plucking the blunt from his hands, you took a fake drag, your hands roaming his abs.

“What’re you thinking about?” you asked Rafe, putting out the joint in his bedside ashtray. He muttered an absentminded, “Nothing,” clearly deep in thought.

You tugged at the hem of his dark blue tee, tossing it aside in an attempt to get his attention. Still, his mind remained clouded, and your lace covered body went unacknowledged by the blonde.

“Y’know I didn’t have to sneak away from my friends jus’ for you to ignore me,” you muttered, annoyed, as you reached for the discarded tee to get up.

Snapping out of his haze, Rafe—Drew’s hands gripped your hips, holding you in place. “M’sorry, baby. Lemme make it up to you.”

As instructed by the coordinator, he reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, dragging the dark fabric down your arms and tossing it to the floor. On camera, it appeared you were bare, but Drew’s eyes met the sticky bra preserving your modesty.

His large hand reached for your face, pulling you down for a kiss. The kiss was rough and desperate, typical Rafe fashion, and your hands instinctively cupped his face as you kissed him back feverishly.

The cameras panned out as Drew held you steady, flipping you in one fluid motion, so Rafe was on top, between your legs, never breaking the kiss. Practically chest to chest, he muttered, “That fuckin’ shut you up real quick.”

Before your character could retort, Rafe—Drew began kissing down your neck, leaving you—more than your character—panting and moaning.

“Rafe—oh my,” you “fake” moaned, feeling his lips brush against that sensitive spot just below your ear. Unable to help yourself, you quietly murmured, “Drew,” so softly that no one would notice.

His hand slipped beneath your thigh, hiking your leg around his waist as the camera lingered on the tangle of limbs beneath the sheets. The way the sheets pooled at his waist made the shot more raunchy than ever.

The director called, “CUT!” and you were promptly handed your robes while being told the take was perfect.

As Drew muttered something about how well the scene went, you couldn’t help but grab his hand and drag him to your trailer to spend your lunch break together, after all it was his fault that you were all hot and bothered.

Months later, when the new season dropped, a Twitter clip of the scene went viral. The background music had been stripped, leaving only your dialogue and... your moans. Fans were quick to notice the slip—a quiet “Drew” instead of “Rafe.” The teasing was relentless, from Madelyn’s playful jabs to the endless fan edits.

Every time it was brought up, you turned beet red, begging to change the topic while your boyfriend would send a cocky smirk to the camera.