“Hey, guys,” Walker greeted casually, his voice soft and relaxed as he glanced at the screen.

He sat comfortably in his gaming chair, his posture loose despite the tension simmering under the surface just moments ago. He had been on the verge of rage-quitting his match, the frustration practically radiating off him—until you started playing with his cheeks. Your fingers gently pinched and squished his face, molding it into silly expressions like clay, and despite himself, a low chuckle slipped past his lips.

Then came the Instagram notification. Dior had gone live and invited him to join.

Walker didn’t usually bother with social media—he barely posted, rarely checked comments, and never took it seriously. But you had raised an eyebrow at him with a playful grin, and with a resigned sigh, he tapped “Join.”

And now, here he was—streaming live on Instagram with Dior, Leah, and Aryan, surrounded by comments and questions flying in at the speed of light.

And you—quietly curled up on his lap like it was the most natural place in the world—continued to mess with his face, your fingers drawing invisible shapes on his skin or tugging his cheeks into exaggerated grins. You were off-camera, mostly just a blur in the background, but your presence was undeniable.

The relationship between you and Walker wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t public either. You both liked it that way. There were no grand announcements, no attention-seeking posts. It wasn’t about hiding—it was about protecting something real. Something that belonged to just the two of you.

Still, the chat was blowing up with speculation.

”can’t he just tell us WHO is that???” “why is his gf’s name still a secret???” “can someone tell me who this girl is!” “Is that his girlfriend?!” “The way he’s ignoring us is killing me 😭”

Walker didn’t so much as glance at the comments. If anything, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He found the desperation oddly entertaining. There was something satisfying about keeping people guessing, knowing they were clamoring for answers while he remained entirely unfazed.

He glanced at you, affection softening his expression for just a second—one hand wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you steady as he gently swayed the chair from side to side.

“You’re gonna fall,” he murmured under his breath, almost too quiet for the mic to pick up. You only grinned and leaned into him more.

“how’s the weather there, walker?” Dior read aloud from the stream.

“sunny,” Walker answered without missing a beat, his tone smooth, relaxed, the edge of a laugh lingering beneath it. “Really sunny.. blue sky, no clouds.. just sun and hot air..”