ivy; walker scobell imagines

big fan

requested by: @ averyaugustine

trigger warnings: mentions of death, brief

summary: you and walker are both celebrities and big fans of each other and you meet for the first time!

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y/n's pov:

it's the night of the premiere of your movie, and you are so excited. your makeup artists and hair stylists have been working on you for hours and they are finally done.

"oh, you look so handsome," your makeup artist, cindy, tells you.

you blush, not used to the complements.

"thank you, cindy!"

she's right. your y/c/h sits just right, your eyes are sparkling in the light from the lamps that are placed around the room. your suit fits perfectly on your body. you look good. that doesn't make you any less nervous. butterflies devour your insides before settling at the bottom of your stomach. content to bolster your nerves.

your best friend, ariana greenblatt, flies into the room in a flurry of fabric and dark curls.

"y/n!" she grins, "oh my gods, you look fantabulous!"

she takes your hands.

"i'm so nervous, ari, what if they don't like me?" you fidget.

"oh, they'll love you. trust me," she smiles and adjusts your hair.

"ready?" she asks, squeezing your hands.

you nod, "ready as i'll ever be."

"oh!" she turns towards you once again, a mischievous look in her dark eyes, "a certain someone is rumored to be there..."

your jaw drops.

"walker? why would he be there?"

"it's a netflix movie, dummy, he was probably invited."

you rolls your eyes. of course.

"i think i'm more nervous now," you tell ariana.

she laughs, "why because he doesn't know you have a pinterest board of yours and his wedding? or because theres a picture of him in your wallet. or maybeeee.... it's because you already named your kids. why in the world would you be nervous!"

"come on kids, let's get going," your mom says from the doorway.

you both race down the stairs, doing your best not to trip and giggling the whole time. it's a fifteen minute drive from your hotel to the venue and ariana spends the whole time reciting the wedding vows that you hand wrote yourself while your mom laughs from the drivers seat and you do your best to blend into the faux leather. 

papparazzi swarm the car when you get out, shoving cameras and mics and unnecessarily invasive questions in your face. ariana gives them her best death stare, which is really good, and they back off. you spend the next ten minutes going back and forth from taking pictures to answering interview questions from way too eager interviewers. you're in the middle of an interview when you get asked a really personal question about your dad, who died the year earlier. it's a tender subject, one that you never talk about, let alone to some random paparazzi. you feel your heart quicken, your lungs squeeze in your chest.

"i have to... go to the bathroom, i'll be right back!" you tell the interviewer, before running off in the opposite direction.

you run in, and go immediately to the bathroom sink counter, placing your hands on the cool marble. it calms you down. you take deep breathe, counting and holding for three seconds before exhaling. you hear a flush behind you and then a guy walks out of the stall. not just a guy. walker scobell. you freeze, hoping you don't look too much like a mess.

"i'm so sorry i'm in the way," you blurt out, not really sure why you said that.

he looks surprised to see you. at your own movie premiere.

"oh no," he laughs,"don't worry about it, we can share the bathroom."

"oh, okay," you say, trying to think of something smart to say.

he washes his hands, dries them, and turns around to find you still standing there, unsure of what to do. he smiles.

"i really love your work, y/n. like really, really love. it's mind-boggling to me that you are standing right in front of me," he says.

you give him a soft smile, "i also really, really love your work, walker."

he grins, happy with himself.

"do you think i could-," he starts.

"ok i'm going to go," you say, flustered and unsure what to do.

"can i get your number?"

you both blurt out at the same time. his cheeks are flushed and he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. you're sure that you are the same shade of red as his tie. which looks really good on him, by the way. you stare down at your hands, and embarrassed smile on your face.

"sorry," you say.

"it's ok," he nods.

then you remember he asked for your number.

"oh! my number, sure. hold on." you say, digging into your pocket and pulling out a sharpie and a folded up movie poster. on the back you write your number, xxx-xxx-xxxx and call me in big block letters. then you shove it at him, mutter something about needing to be out there and promptly run out the bathroom. he gives you a "i don't know what to make of this weird boy who just almost had a panic attack in the bathroom then gave me his number on the back of a movie poster and then ran away from me" look, or so that's what you interpret it as. you aren't the best at reading people, which technically makes you an unreliable source, but who cares!

later that night, ari is sleeping over. you both are curled up in the covers, clay masks on your face, watching, more like rewatching, outer banks, when your phone buzzes. ariana picks it up before you can snatch it off the bed and says, with a very satisfied look on her face, "your future husband says hi."

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had to change a few parts, hope it's still ok!!

-963 words