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absurdthirst · 22 days

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Hollywood Happiness {Dieter Bravo x Actress!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: 1950's Hollywood AU, mentions of homophobia, sex clubs, hedonism, threesomes, bisexuality, orgies, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, secret relationship, secret marriage, hidden pregnancy, labor, mentions of forced abortions, traumatic births

Comments: Hired by the studio to be Dieter Bravo's co-star, you are also tasked with taming Hollywood's bad boy and keep the negative press away. Do that, and the studio will green light your passion project. Easy enough, until you fall for Dieter and end up pregnant.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dieter looks up from his script, his cigarette dangling between his lips until he reaches up to take it in between his fingers. His eyes appraising you as you walk in to meet him for the first time. His new co-star and the woman that’s going to be his leading lady. This motion picture is moodier, romance with a tragic ending. No dance numbers. No songs. It's a drama and what Dieter has been craving for so long. One can only tapdance in so many numbers until they can demand something more serious. This is his follow up to his Oscar win so he needs it to be good. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He says as he stands up, setting his script down to take your hand in his and press a soft kiss to the back of it. He’s hoping you aren’t one of those virginal, angelic actresses who has never seen cocaine or a naked man before. He doesn’t need to be babying you throughout this process. He wants to enjoy the production and be able to be himself…well, mainly himself. Rock walks by on his way to his own production and winks at Dieter, a shared look between “good friends” and Dieter smiles at him before turning his attention back to you. “So…what’s your story?” He asks, knowing everyone has one.

You know all about Dieter Bravo, apprised of it by the studio and exactly what you need to do in order to keep the head man happy where his star was concerned. Dieter has a problem. Nasty rumors seemed to follow him around, although it was all hearsay and the studio wanted it nipped in the bud yesterday. Dieter was rumored to be enjoying too many drugs and there are the scandalous rumors about wild orgies involving both sexes. You were brought in to make sure those rumors are squashed and their star was kept busy and out of trouble, with you. Smiling, you bat your lashes at the handsome man. “My story is one that you’ve probably heard a hundred times.” You titter slightly. “But I also have a script that I want the studio to film.”

Dieter raises his eyebrows, surprised that you aren’t the usual Hollywood starlet they grab from some podunk town, operate on to transform them, and ensure that they have but one brain cell so they can learn their lines and blocking. You don’t seem to be the vapid, stupid actress he encounters. “A script? Perhaps you can enlighten me on the plot? Maybe I’ll be your lead one day.” He winks, noticing how pretty your eyes are and he briefly wonders what they’d look like watery while you suck his cock.

You smirk slightly and bite your lip. “It would take much too long to explain now.” You tell him. “Perhaps I can detail it to you over dinner?” You boldly ask, willing to take the opportunity to get closer to Dieter, hoping that you impress him with your boldness.

He can’t stop the smirk that appears on his face, liking your moxie. You’re not shy and he enjoys that. He licks his lips and steps closer to you, “name the time and place, sweetheart. I’ll be there.” He promises, leaning down to snub out his smoke. He needs to change, dressing in his day suit, the one that he’s worn far too many times that the lining has holes in it but damn, it’s comfortable, and his sunglasses are perched on his head.

“Cole’s, 7 o’clock.” You insist, placing your hand on his chest and rubbing gently. “Bring a big appetite, we might close the place down.” You flirt, winking at him and then leaning in slightly to give Dieter a look down your dress.

Fuck, his cock twitches at the thought and he loves how you seem to be confident in what you want. That’s what’s been missing in other actresses he’s met. So many of them wanted to appear innocent and demure. You are sexy and he loves that. “See you at seven, baby doll.” He winks, licking his lower lip until he’s flipping his sunglasses down, “I better get to reading this script, be prepared for filming.” He says, knowing he is tempted to stay but he likes to keep a little mystery.

You watch Dieter saunter away, confident and sure as he greets other actors and actresses. You bite your lips, finding him far more interesting than you had imagined when you accepted the contract terms. Not that you had much choice if you wanted to be on screen. The studios make all the rules and you just follow them. You turn to walk towards costuming so you can be fitted to your wardrobe as the leading lady of this drama.

Dieter adjusts his evening jacket as he walks in Cole’s, the room already buzzing with conversation and the band playing in the corner. He tells the maitre d his name and he’s escorted to the private booths in the back. People look up as he walks by and he offers them a charming smile but inside he’s anxious, hating eyes on him. He swallows harshly and sits down at the booth, thanking the host who nods and leans in, “you were incredible in Hunger Strike.” He says and Dieter smiles, “thank you.”

The man reaches into his pocket for his card and slides it to Dieter, “I’d like to show you how great I thought you were.” He murmurs and Dieter looks up at him with a smirk, “we can arrange that.” He promises with a wink and slides the card into his pocket. The man grins and walks off, Dieter watching his ass until the waiter comes over to take his drinks order.

Before you walk into the restaurant, you pull out your compact and powder your nose, checking your lipstick and hair. You are about to walk in and give the host Dieter’s name so you can actually get closer to the actor. “Be charming.” You remind yourself as you open the door and walk inside, aware that you were going to be photographed tonight.

Dieter stands up when you approach his table, a friendly smile on his face, and he takes your hand in his to press a kiss to the back of it. “You look gorgeous, baby doll.” He says, his eyes sliding along your figure and he gestures for you to sit.

“Thank you.” Your brow raises and you smirk slightly as you sit down with a clear view for Dieter down your cleavage and hum. “I have to say that the rumored charm of Dieter Bravo has not disappointed.”

He smirks as he takes his seat, picking up his whiskey, “glad to hear I don’t disappoint.” He flirts softly, knowing he’s walking a fine line when you are to be his costar for the next year. “So…who’d you fuck to get the job?” He half teases, half tests. He wonders if you’re someone looking to step on his head to get up the ladder or if you’re just that good of an actress.

You snort playfully and roll your eyes. “Who should I tell you? The director or the producer? Maybe both?” You joke and lean in. “Or maybe I got the roll on my acting skills alone? Is that the unbelievable story?” The waiter delivers a whiskey on the rocks. You order a neat whiskey with a lemon twist and smirk when the waiter rushes off, looking back at Dieter for his answer.

“Ain’t no shame in it, honey. Lord knows I’ve fucked enough people to get ahead in this business. I haven’t seen you act so I can’t say which story is the true one. Perhaps when we get on set I can ascertain which one is the reality but in the meantime, I’m gonna jerk off thinking of you getting split roasted by the director and producer.” He smirks, knowing you’ll think he’s scandalous.

You gasp, giving him the appropriate response that he is looking for. You know that he expects you to be offended, but you also know that he will be intrigued if you weren’t. Your lips twist into a smug smirk. “Isn’t that the only way to properly take two cocks?” You ask, picking up his own whiskey and taking a small sip of the liquor. “Maybe I will have to satisfy myself thinking about that tonight.”

Dieter chuckles, dirty and drawn out, and he smirks as he leans closer to you, reaching for your hand. “It appears we are going to get along just fine, baby. Tell me, have you ever been to an orgy before?” He asks, curious to see how dirty you truly are.

You tut and swat at his shoulder with your free hand playfully. “A lady never tells.” You hum and lift an eyebrow suggestively. “Discretion is the name of the game when you have fun with special friends.”

Dieter slides his foot across the floor to slide against yours, a devious grin on his face. “I can tell you and I are going to get along famously.” He hums, picking up his whiskey just as the waiter brings yours over. You order your food not long after and you and Dieter discuss the script for a bit, expanding your thoughts on your characters and the needed chemistry. “Forgive me if I speak too boldly but I think we have the chemistry down.” Dieter hums.

“I don’t think that is too bold.” You slide your foot out of your heel and rub it against his ankle. “Sometimes you just instantly know that you are going to fit well with someone.” You have flirted with him outrageously all night, but there have been some interesting conversations about the script that impressed you. Dieter is more than just a pretty face, there is a smart intellect behind those mischievous eyes.

“How do you fancy coming to a party tonight? My friend is throwing a shindig. Apparently Dean will be singing tonight.” He says and your eyes widen.

“Dean Martin?” You ask and he nods, “the one and only. Whatcha say, baby doll? Wanna come check out the Hollywood parties with me?”

How could you possibly say no to that? An evening with the top Hollywood stars? It’s exactly what you wanted and it could allow you to form some key friendships down the line. It’s not what you know in Hollywood, it’s who you know. “I say you should get the check.” You tease, biting your lip.

Dieter grins, gesturing for the waiter to come over and he quickly hands over the cash needed to pay the bill and then some. The waiter winks at him, “don’t forget to find me again.” He says and Dieter nods, “I’ll be sure to reach out.” He smirks and offers you his arm to guide you out of the restaurant and to his awaiting car.

“Are you sure that I’m the one you want to spend tonight with?” You ask as the porter opens the passenger side to allow you to step in.

Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes, “are you fucking serious, baby? Look at you, you’re goddamn gorgeous. I’m gonna be the envy of everyone in the joint.” He assures you after he slides into the seat beside you.

You hum happily and turn so you can brush one of his curls back. “I will be the one getting the envious looks.” You coo. “I’ll be with the sexiest man there. Maybe anywhere.”

Dieter leans into your touch, almost purring as you scratch his scalp. “Fuck. Keep doing that, baby.” He pleads, his hand finding your thigh to squeeze. You’re something different and he loves it.

His plea for such an innocent touch is very revealing and you tuck it away for future speculation. “Touch a gorgeous man? My pleasure.” You assure him, keeping your hand in his hair as you lean close and kiss his cheek. “Drive baby and I’ll make you feel good.”

He nearly closes his eyes as he drives down Sunset Boulevard to the club he frequents. He pulls up and the valet takes the vehicle, opening the door for him and Dieter makes a show of rounding the car to open the door for you, holding his hand out towards you. “Welcome to Ciros.” Dieter days as he guides you inside.

Your eyes widen at the glitz and glamour of the exclusive club. “Dieter.” You gasp, clinging to him as you take it all in. Cary Grant is over in one corner, playing billiards with Jimmy Stewart, drinks on the edge of the table.

Dieter grins, loving how in awe you are of the club and he is happy you are enjoying it already. He knows he loves seeing all his fellow actors enjoying themselves and the back of the club is his particular favorite thing about this place. “You wanna get a drink?” Dieter asks, leaning in close so his lips brush your ear.

You turn towards him, so your lips are almost touching. “Whiskey, with a twist.” You tell him, looking into his lovely light brown eyes that seem to hold a thousand secrets. “Or whatever you want me to drink.”

“You have what you want to have.” He says and guides you to a booth in the back. He shuffles in and calls over the waitress, his eyes dipping down to her cleavage as he orders your drinks. His arm is thrown over the back of the booth, his fingers playing with the strap of your dress as he leans towards you.

“So tell me about Dieter Bravo.” You coo as you run a finger down the smooth line of his jaw. “The real Dieter, not the persona”

He smirks, “the persona is the Hollywood golden boy. The real Dieter? He’s a dirty bastard. I love sex. Men, women. Both. I love sex and I love pleasure. I take drugs to numb the pain of being alone and I’m alone because I take drugs. I’m a typical Hollywood disaster and my manager and the studio desperately want me to settle and be a good boy, but that’s not me.”

“You should be you.” You pout at him, although you really mean your words. He should be free to be who he wants to be. Leaning in and kissing his chin. “Love who you want, fuck who you want.”

Dieter snorts, reaching up with his free hand to gently grip your chin, “it’s the 50’s. No one can truly be who they want to be. I couldn’t love a man, or publicly announcing that I’m fucking one. My career would be over. Just like you couldn’t be known to be anything but a perfect angelic virgin. It’s the social standard so we smile and wave and pretend but at night, we crawl to our dens of dissolute and allow ourselves the pleasures we deny during the daylight hours. It’s the life we lead and it’s fine.” He promises, leaning in to softly kiss your lips, “you understand, don’t you baby?”

Your heart aches because you know that he’s telling the truth. “I understand.” You whisper quietly, nodding as you break the kiss. “Though I believe in being happy, as much as you can be.” Hopefully he will find happiness around you and that will make your assignment easier.

He nods, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. “We can be happy tonight if you want.” He pulls back when the waiter sets the drinks down and he pulls a note from his wallet to hand it to him. When he leaves, he turns back to you, “there’s a private area in the back. Men and women…all for our pleasure. Do you want to explore with me?” Dieter asks, raising his eyebrows with hopefully eyes while he bites his lip.

You know that the studio would prefer that he not go back to the back, but you can’t deny him. “Do you want to be split roasted or do you want to be on the giving end of split roasting me?” You ask, curious as to the answer he will give you.

Dieter’s eyebrows raise even more and he can’t stop the naughty grin that appears on his face. “Well, Jesus Christ, you are a naughty little girl.” He teases and leans in to softly kiss your ear, “I want to be on the giving end with you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how tight and wet your little cunt must be so if you want me, baby doll, I wanna fuck you and have some help to ensure you leave here high on pleasure.”

He smirks, cock already hardening, and he nods, picking up his glass to clink it against yours. “I say we better drink up and get back there.” He winks and downs the whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table then he shuffles out of the booth and holds his hand out towards you, “come on baby doll, let’s have some fun.”

You give him your hand and flash him a smile. “I’m ready to have fun with you.” You promise, biting your lip as he helps you to your feet. You curl into his embrace and look excited even though butterflies swim in your stomach.

Dieter guides you back through the throng of people and he knocks three times on the door, the peephole in the middle opens and finally the door is opened to the private rooms of the club. He winks at the doorman and takes your hand in his to guide you to the main room, full of men and women in various states of undress. Some kissing, some sucking, some fucking. It’s a den of desire and you don’t know where to look. “Okay?” Dieter asks, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.

“There are private rooms. Let’s find a space in the observers and see who you wish to share your delicious cunt with.” Dieter suggests and guides you over to the lush seating area with large chairs. Dieter sits down and wastes no time pulling you into his lap, his hand sliding along your stocking clad leg under your skirt, “you see anyone you like?” He murmurs into your ear, pressing a kiss against your neck.

It’s hard to concentrate and look around the club as you enjoy his hand on your body. You shiver and hum speculatively as you manage to take a look at all the men and women that are milling around. You spot several famous faces and you bite your lip, cunt bottoming out when you see someone you have always admired pull off a robe and lay down on a table to let any and all touch her. You spot a man in the corner of the room, still dressed and watching as he sips a drink. “What about him?” You ask, turning and nudging your nose against Dieter’s cheek as you speak. “Have you fucked him? Does he have a nice cock?”

Dieter smirks, “no. I haven’t. He’s nice though. Pensive. Moody. I like that. Those are the ones that fuck well. You wanna call him over?” Dieter asks, knowing the man will come over. You nod, catching the man’s eyes and you gesture for him to come over with a sultry smile. Dieter’s hand slides higher, “you excited to get fucked?” He hums into your ear, biting down on the lobe.

You moan softly, enjoying the sharp nip of his teeth. “Yes.” You admit breathlessly. “I’ve wondered what you were like in bed, watching you onscreen.” You might not have before, but it seems that he likes your answer.

The man gracefully makes his way through the gyrating crowd. Dieter pulls away from you, standing up to greet the man. "Lance." He greets the stunt man who he has seen around the studios. ‘"Bravo." He nods at Dieter, shaking his hand.

"Have you two met?" Dieter asks, saying your name and the stunt man shakes his head.

He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips, "I would definitely remember if I had met her." He winks at you after he stands up straight but keeps your hand in.

“Flatterer.” You tease, even though you find him even more handsome in person than you had from afar. “Can we buy you drink, Lance?” You ask playfully, looking over to Dieter for approval. “Have you sit down and discuss all manner of pleasurable things?” Dieter approves, the way he is leaning in to hear Lance’s answer is indicative of that.

Lance nods and Dieter gestures to the passing cocktail waitress. He orders your whiskey with a twist, his own tipple, and Lance orders a whiskey too. The waitress rushes off and Dieter shuffles down the couch, pulling you into his lap to show his possession of you while Lance sits beside you both. “So are you seeking here tonight?” Dieter asks Lance whose hand finds your knee. “I want you both.” Lance says, “I want to taste you, to fuck you.” He says and Dieter leans in to press his lips to Lance’s.

You should be discouraging the behavior that Dieter is displaying, that’s what the studio wants you to do, but you moan at the sight of the two men kissing. “Yes.” You whimper, sliding your hand into Lance’s lap and squeezing his hardening cock as you grind your as against Dieter’s. “Why don’t we find a private room?”

Lance pulls away from Dieter’s mouth to look at you, “let’s, but first.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours and Dieter groans as he watches the kiss, getting a little greedy as he surges forward to join the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours and Lance’s.

You’ve never had a kiss that involved three people but it’s intoxicating. Gasping, your tongue joins the fray and you enthusiastically kiss each of them as you massage Lance’s cock even more. You feel Dieter’s fingers pressing against your clit, making you whine softly, grinding against his hand for friction.

The kiss ends when Lance and Dieter pull back, their cocks aching, and Dieter looks up as the cocktail waitress appears, “thanks doll. We want a private room.” He says and she nods, taking the crisp bills he gives her and she tells you to follow her to the private room, she will take your drinks.

Standing, you smirk when both men need to adjust their cocks when they stand and you make sure that you sway your hips enticingly as you follow the waitress. You want both men to have their eyes fixed on your ass as they trail behind you. Feeling emboldened by their obvious lust, you walk into the private room eagerly and spin around to watch them walk on.

Dieter thanks the waitress when she sets the drinks down and she shuts the door behind her, the bed in the middle of the room is clean and made up, and there’s chairs and a small bathroom attached. “Now, where were we?” Dieter smirks, picking up his whiskey.

“We were talking about pleasure.” Lance says and you smirk, fingering the buttons of your dress. “Are you gonna give us a show, baby girl?” Dieter asks, sitting down on the foot of the bed while Lance sits in the nearby chair.

You hadn’t anticipated stripping in front of them, but the excitement in Dieter’s eyes has you nodding, but you smirk slightly. “Both of you take something off first, then I will.” You tease, flicking open the first button of your dress and revealing more of your cleavage.

Dieter chuckles, liking your moxie again, and he shrugs off his jacket, working on his tie and the buttons of his shirt so he is shirtless, his slacks still on. Lance follows suit, shrugging off his blazer and he sits back down on the bed, his chiseled chest on display..

Dieter groans, his fingers twitching at how gorgeous you are. A true movie star. Beautiful and so fucking sexy. He hisses your name and Lance swallows harshly, cock throbbing in his pants. “Are you going to show us what’s beneath that pretty brassier?” He asks and Dieter shakes his head. “We should assist.” He says as he sets his whiskey down and stands up, kneeling down in front of his knees so he can reach out to unclip your stocking, slowly rolling it down your leg until he removes your heel and the silk.

“Dieter.” You whisper as his lips graze your thighs. It’s hedonistic and thrilling to feel both men’s eyes on your body and know that despite they want each other, they also want you. Your core is throbbing and you crook your finger towards Lance suggestively. “You want to remove it, baby?” You coo.

He nods, “I’ll take it off.” He steps behind you, placing soft kisses to the nape of your neck as his fingers work on removing your bra. “So fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and he tosses your bra aside so he can cup your tits. Dieter has rolled your other stocking down and is pressing his nose to your underwear, groaning at the heady scent of you before he mouthes at your cunt through the silk.

You feel deliciously cared for and moan when Dieter’s hot breath washes over your covered cunt. “Do you do that?” You lean back against Lance and tangle your fingers into Dieter’s curly hair. “Eat a woman’s cunt?” He’s mentioned sucking a cock, but perhaps he is like most men who find a cunt unappealing to lick. It was hypocritical of them in your opinion, but you also never insisted.

Dieter snorts, pulling back to look up at you. “Are you fucking kidding me, baby doll? I love pussy. I love eating pussy.” He promises and hooks his fingers in your panties so he can pull them down, his face soon buried in your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. “Fuck you taste good.” He groans while Lance pinches your nipples.

“Fuck, Dieter.” His name is a sob on your lips as he manages to make your entire body shake. You turn your head and kiss Lance’s jaw as he palms your tits and makes you feel like you are the star of your own show. “Feel even better inside.”

Dieter doesn’t deny you, grabbing your leg to lift your thigh onto his shoulder so he can slide his tongue inside of you, his nose pressing against your clit. “Fuck, does she taste good?” Lance asks and Dieter pulls back to smack his lips, “she’s fucking delicious.” He groans, diving back in.

“Oh fuck.” You moan, turning and pressing your lips to Lance’s desperately. Wanting to do more than just take from the men. Your hand slides down behind you and you fumble with the zipper of Lance’s slacks. Desperate to pull his hard cock out and stroke it while Dieter licks your cunt. “Pull- pull your cock out.” You beg against his lips.

Lance won’t deny you. He lets go of you, reaching down to fumble with his slacks, opening them to pull his cock out for you. His hands find your tits again and you whimper, wrapping your fingers around his cock. Dieter continues lapping at your cunt, sucking on your clit as he tries to send you over the edge.

Your eyes flutter closed, twisting your wrist so you can pump the thick girth in your hand and your hips cant towards Dieter’s mouth. “Oh fuck, oh this is- this is so good.” You moan quietly. “I- I’m gonna cum.” You warn the men.

Dieter desperately wants you to cum. His tongue diving deep, curling inside of you while his fingers grip your thigh and he groans when you finally cum, clamping down on his tongue and soaking his face with your juices. He laps up every drop he can get while you moan his name. Lance groans at the sounds you make, twitching in your loosened grip and he reluctantly pushes your hand away so he can pull Dieter up after the actor lowers your leg. He pulls Dieter close so he can press his lips to his, wanting to taste you.

You pant, watching the two men kiss and you decide you want a taste of your own. Dropping down to your knees, you wrap your fingers around Lance’s cock before you press your tongue to the leaking tip to lap at the juices building up. Making him groan and push into your mouth a little more.

Lance groans into Dieter’s mouth and the actor fumbles to unbutton his pants, pulling his aching cock out. Lance immediately takes his hard cock in his hard, jerking him off while you suck on the stuntman’s length. Dieter’s tongue tangles with Lance’s while he pleasures and gets pleasured.

You pull off Lance’s cock after a moment and take the head of Dieter’s length into your mouth after batting the other man’s hand away from it. Groaning as you have a hand on each man’s cock and start to massage the base of each one. You flick your tongue over the tip of Dieter’s before you pull back and take Lance back into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ.” Dieter groans, looking down at you and Lance takes the chance to kiss along his neck, biting down softly on his jaw. “She’s gorgeous.” He murmurs, stroking your cheek as you look up at the men. “I want to fuck you baby doll. Get on the bed and Lance can fuck your throat while I fuck you if you want that.” Dieter murmurs, giving you the choice.

You kiss the tip of Dieter’s cock and nod as you let go of both men’s girth. “I want that.” You promise breathlessly, biting your lip. Lance helps you up and you move over to the bed and get onto it, on all fours. Looking over your shoulder, you shake your ass at both men. “Come on, pretty boys, I’m starting to get lonely over here.”

Lance comes over, smacking your ass, and he wastes no time kneeling on the bed so you can take his cock back into his mouth. Dieter comes over, kneeling on the bed behind you and he caresses your spine. “I’ll pull out.” He promises, smacking your ass cheek before he’s gripping his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and slowly pushing inside of you.

You moan sounds out around the stuntman’s length, your back bowing slightly as Dieter stretches you out. It’s been longer than you care to admit since you’ve had a lover, appearances needing to be kept up for the studios. Still, you enjoy the fullness and push your hips back as he bottoms out inside you.

Dieter closes his eyes, jaw dropping at the feel of you, and he starts to move inside of you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, caressing your hips before he grabs them, rocking inside of you and each rock pushes Lance’s cock deeper down your throat.

It’s filthy and wicked, while you aren’t pure, this is the first time you have been between two men. Your acting making you seem much more confident than you actually are, but you find that you love it. Moaning, you wrap your hand around Lance’s cock and pump the base while you take him deeper.

Dieter groans as he watches you take the other man’s cock into your mouth. It’s dirty and so naughty, everything the studio doesn’t want you to be. He fucking loves it. Lance does too by the look on his face and Dieter can’t help but reach for him, grabbing his neck to pull him across to press his lips to his.

Both men coming together means that they are surging deeper inside you. Pressing close and you feel yourself start to gag on the cock in your mouth but you quickly start to swallow around him. Enjoying the way they moan together above you and you wish that you had a studio camera to film this so you can see how they look.

Your cunt tightens around Dieter and he chuckles into Lance’s mouth, pulling back for a second. “Oh she loves this.” He murmurs and moves forward again to slide his tongue against Lance’s, his hands finding your hips again, his cock pushing harder and faster. He wants to feel you cum around him.

It’s hard to concentrate on the cock in your mouth when Dieter starts to fuck you hard and fast. His cock shredding up inside you and pressing against something wonderful that makes you eager to push back. Eyes watering and your lipstick smeared, you don’t care how you look as long as the delicious pressure continues to build up inside you.

Dieter and Lance pull back from the kiss, looking down at you and Lance groans as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Fuck, gonna make me cum.” He warns you, not sure if you want to swallow his cum or not.

You hum, looking up at him through your lashes and you continue to press him deeper into your throat. Pressing the tip of your nose to his torso and barely being tickled by the groomed hairs around his cock. You want him to cum down your throat, wanting to taste him.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkk.” Lance groans, his cock throbbing as he cums down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and Dieter watches in awe as Lance cums. “That’s it baby doll. Good girl. So good.” Dieter coos, caressing your back and he groans when your cunt flutters around his cock.

You want Dieter to cum, to have him moan in pleasure like Lance is. You clench down around him and while you are still swallowing, you push your hips back to encourage him to fuck you harder.

Dieter doesn’t want to cum until you do, his hand sliding under you to find your clit and he rubs it while he’s fucking into you. Lance groans, needing to pleasure you so he shifts onto his back, sliding under you and his tongue finds your clit, pushing Dieter’s hand aside. “Fuck.” Dieter groans as he grabs your hip again to fuck you harder, needing you to cum.

“Oh my goddddddd.” You whine, rocking your hips down and panting. You can’t take much more, the pleasure building up to the point where you screaming out when you start to cum.

Dieter hisses when you clamp down on his cock, making him groan your name and Lance shifts, licking at where you and Dieter are joined, your cum dripping into his mouth and he reaches up to fondle Dieter's balls. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna -" Dieter barely managers to pull out, gripping his cock as he spurts his hot seed onto your ass and lower back.

You whine, enjoying the way that he had felt inside you. Missing the way he had filled you as you continue to come. “Dieter, fuck baby.” You pant, dropping down to your elbows.

Lance groans, shifting out from under you and he leans in to lick a line of Dieter's cum from your flesh. "Fuck baby." Dieter grunts, leaning down to bite your ass cheek, lapping at your quivering pussy to taste you again.

Lance nods, "so fucking good." He agrees and when Dieter lifts his head, he surges forward to kiss the actor again. Dieter grabs the back of his neck, keeping him close so he can kiss him passionately, both men still tingling from their orgasms.

Turning on your side, Dieter’s cum still on your ass, you watch the two men kiss. Still feeling euphoric at the sensations you experienced and wondering why this could be so wrong.

“So fucking good.” Dieter groans and leans down to kiss you after Lance pulls back. He shifts off of the bed and goes into the bathroom to grab a rag for you to clean up. Lance follows him, caressing his back and he washes himself up while Dieter takes care of you. “You enjoy yourself, baby doll?” He asks while he cleans his cum off of you.

“I did.” You bite your lip and are a little unsure of how well you managed to satisfy the two men. “Did you both enjoy yourselves?” You ask, looking between Dieter and Lance.

Lance nods, “I enjoyed it, sweetheart. I don’t - I don’t usually like to penetrate unless it’s someone like him.” Lance winks at Dieter, hoping you catch his drift, “but you were fucking delicious.” He leans down to softly kiss you. “Hopefully we do this again sometime.”

You kiss him back, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Anytime.” You tell him saucily and winking when he pulls back. You stretch out and hum contentedly. “What do you think, Dieter baby?” You coo, trailing a finger down your breast.

Dieter bites his lip, “it was fucking fantastic baby.” He promises and admires your form as you stretch out. Lance grabs his clothes, starting to redress. “I better go. I have an early call tomorrow.” Lance says and pecks your lips once he’s dressed and he kisses Dieter once again. “See you around handsome.” He winks and carefully exits the room, leaving you and Dieter alone. “You wanna get dressed and get back out there or do you wanna order some drinks and stay in here?” He asks, grabbing his briefs to pull them up.

“What do you want to do?” You ask softly. “I’m with you tonight. Whatever you want, I’m game.” You promise. Your goal is to make him want to be around you and you can’t do that if you make him annoyed or bored.

Dieter leans in to kiss you, his hand caressing your body. “I wanna stay with you. Right here. I wanna make you cum again and then I want to take you home and make you cum again.” He smirks, knowing he’s not gonna want to let you go now that he’s got you. You’re gorgeous and kinky and everything he loves in a woman. This is the beginning of something beautiful.

****

“Fuck baby.” You moan, looking over your shoulder at Dieter as he rocks into you. Your hands are wrapped around the posts of the headboard of the bed you spend more time in than your own. For the past three months, you and Dieter have constantly been together, onset and off and the studio execs are happy that their star has been staying out of trouble. “Harder, baby.” You beg, clenching down around him. “Want to cum all over you.”

“Take it. Oh fuck. Give it to me. Wanna feel you gush, baby doll.” Dieter groans, his fingers digging into your hips and his mouth hanging open as his stomach tingles with his own near climax. “Cum for me.” He chokes, needing you to do it.

You don’t have too much longer before you are doing just that. Your legs kick up between Dieter’s and your toes curl in pleasure. Your cry of his name is something his neighbors around him should be well used to hearing now, since you cry it out every night. “Cum inside me.” You begs, twisting the sheets up in your hands. “It’s safe. Please baby, let me feel you.”

He can’t deny. Fuck, he can’t deny you anything. He pants, his hips pushing into your ass and he clenches his eyes shut as he cums, burying his cock deep inside of you. He groans loud and proud as he paints your walls for the first time. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.” He groans, his hips slamming against your ass and he pants as he rides out his high.

The liquid heat of his pleasure fills you. Making you moan as it reaches every inch of your womb and coats your insides. “Fuck baby.” You whimper, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid, something you know you shouldn’t say or feel but you do anyway. “So good, you’re so good to me, Dee.” You pant instead.

He kisses along your spine, “you’re so goddamn perfect, baby doll.” He murmurs between kisses, reluctant to pull out of you. He wants to stay buried inside of your warmth forever. He grunts as he pulls out of you, leaning back on his haunches to see his cum drip from your pussy and that makes his spent cock drip. “Goddamn beautiful.” He sighs and shifts to lay down beside you. “Darling girl, you want something to eat?” He asks, pulling you into his chest.

You curl up on his chest and sigh, smiling slightly. Dieter is surprisingly attentive for someone who had honed such a bad boy, playboy persona. “Later.” You hum softly. “I was thinking we could stay in tonight?” You caress his chest and bask in the pleasurable afterglow of his attention. Your entire body is lovingly sore from how pent up he was. Apparently you had been teasing him all day on set. “Maybe I could make you dinner? Or a midnight snack?”

Dieter caresses your spine, “sure. You wanna have pasta? My housekeeper made me some. We can heat it up.” He suggests and you shake your head. “I can’t eat pasta. I - the studio has given me a list of things to eat. Salads, boiled chicken. Vodka or water. I need to keep my weight down.” You explain and Dieter pulls back to look down at you, “what the fuck? Boiled chicken? You’re joking, right?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

Snorting, you roll your eyes. “You know how it is. All the female actresses are strictly controlled. Why do you think I never eat anything but a salad when we go out?” You ask. “They measure me every morning and put me on a scale. If I’m too heavy, I cannot have lunch. Just smokes.”

“Jesus. I- I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought that they had you taking pills.” He shakes his head again, “you can’t not eat. Salad? That’s fucking rabbit food. You should be able to control your body, not the studio. That’s bullshit, baby.”

“I refused the pills.” You admit. “I didn’t like how they made me feel.” You’ve avoided doing any drugs with Dieter and surprisingly, he’s been okay with that. “That’s why my whiskey order changed to vodka. I hate vodka, but it’s all I can have.”

Dieter nods, having noticed you switched to clear liquor. “Baby doll, it’s crazy they dictate like that. I wish there was something I could do.” He sighs, pouring slightly as he looks at you. He does drugs, coke mainly, and you are such a good girl compared to him, so sweet and kind. He doesn’t deserve you really.

He sighs, knowing this isn’t the end of the conversation but he can’t do anything about it tonight so he pulls you closer, kissing your forehead and he closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You’ve become his home, his safe space, and he’d do anything to protect you. Z

You know that he’s relaxed now and you sigh softly. It’s gotten more complicated now. Far different from the day you had met Dieter. You were shown a side of him that no one else got to see except for in small glimpses. You’ve fallen in love even though you know that the studio has an expiration date set for your relationship. They want him single, so the press knew nothing of your nights out on the town.

****

“You want a drink, baby doll?” Dieter asks, walking over to his bar cart to pour himself a whiskey. You have taken to staying at his place nearly every night and he doesn’t complain when he gets to have you in his bed. The movie is coming along, the romance going extremely well thanks to your chemistry on set and Dieter finds himself more centered on his character, able to remember his lines better. Probably because he’s not out until the early hours having sex with strangers and snorting cocaine. He doesn’t know when it happened but he only wants you, can only think of you.

You shake your head, giving him a soft smile. “I shouldn’t.” You tell him, pressing your hand to your stomach. “They said I’m gaining some weight so I need to cut back on the drinking.” You roll your eyes and shrug. “But if you kiss me after you drink, I can taste it from your tongue.”

Dieter frowns, "gaining weight? You look fucking gorgeous. I can't wait to see the edits of you from today." He says, leaning in to peck your lips after he prepares a whiskey, sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste the liquor.

You moan over the taste of the liquor and Dieter combined. It’s intoxicating, and you know that you need him. Curling your hand around his neck, you pour yourself into the kiss and slide another hand down to cup his flaccid cock through his pants.

He groans into your mouth, cock starting to harden under your grip. He can’t help it, you’re too tempting for him. “Fuck baby doll. You want me to fuck you?” He asks breathlessly, kissing along your jaw, careful to not leave any marks.

“Always want you to fuck me.” You whine, closing your eyes and enjoying the way that his lips map the perfect spots to make you hum in pleasure.

Dieter doesn't deny you, wanting you just as much. His hands are everywhere, squeezing your tits, squeezing your ass. He can't touch enough of you as he hardens in your grip. “Let me fuck you baby.” He pleads, his hands sliding under your dress to push under your silk panties, finding your clit. “Already wet for me.”

“Always wet for you.” You pant breathlessly. Holding onto his arms as he rubs your clit exactly how you like for it to be rubbed. “Baby, you do that so good. Always make me feel so good.” You’ve been insatiable lately and luckily Dieter has been completely up to fucking you whenever you want.

He hums, loving hearing your praise. So unlike the harshness he experienced in the industry. Almost everything he does is wrong. He shifts his fingers to push Teo inside of you, wanting you to cum first for him like this. “Baby doll. You’re so good to me. Always- fuck - always want you.” He murmurs when you squeeze his cock.

You ignore the worries that you have, the truth that you are hiding from him as the magic of his touch takes over. Pushing it away to focus on him. “Fuck Dee,” you whimper softly. “Love this, love you.”

It’s the first time you’ve said you love him and it makes him feel like he’s on top of the world, his heart pounding in his chest. “Wait-” He withdraws his fingers and pulls your hand away from his cock. “Did you- did you just say you love me?” He asks and you nod, biting your lip and he can see you’re nervous. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. “I love you, baby doll. I- fuck - you love me?” He asks, wanting to hear you say it.

“I love you, Dieter.” You cup his cheek and kiss him again. “I love you.” You do love him, even if you didn’t start out with this under the most honest of pretenses, you know that you do love him. Shocked that he loves you too, you beam at him.

He pulls you close, guiding you over to the sofa. “I want you to ride me.” He

says, caressing your back until he’s working the zipper of your dress down to expose more skin to his eager eyes. “I want you to cum on my cock, baby.” He says, pushing the dress off of your shoulders until it’s pooling at your feet and he sits down on the sofa.

You watch as he starts to unzip his pants, pulling the shirttails out and up his stomach as he lifts his hips to push them and his briefs down. His cock is hard, springing up to slap against his skin as he watches you push your panties down and instead of taking off your bra, you straddle his thighs, eager to sink down on him. “Fuck I love your cock.” you coo softly. “You fill me up so fucking good.”

He groans when you grip his cock, sinking down on top of him. “Fuck baby doll. Look at you.” He hisses, watching you take his length inside of you. He could do this for hours, just watch you ride his dick. “So fucking pretty.” He coos, cupping your cheek and he brings you close so he can press his lips to yours again.

Kissing Dieter has become so very natural to you. Both on set and off. You seemingly always are nearing to kissing him or just coming from kissing him. Still, every time makes you shiver slightly and wish that you were able to keep him. “I love you.” you murmur softly as you start to move, riding him slowly and enjoying the way he stretches you out. Perhaps this will count as exercise.

His hands caress you, wanting to touch more of you, and he’s quick to unclasp your bra while you work on unbuttoning his shirt. He leans in to kiss along your chest once your bra is slung across the room and his lips are wrapping around your nipple as you start to slowly ride him.

“Dee!” Your fingers dig into his hair and you try to gently pull him away. You’re sensitive and want to kiss him again. “So good baby, kiss me.” You beg softly, knowing he will give in if you want your lips on his.

He reluctantly pulls away from your breast so he can lean in to kiss you. His tongue immediately slides into your mouth. The shitty tattoos on his chest he got while drunk during his brief stint in the army before he was dismissed just after training are under your touch and he knows you can feel his heart beating.

It becomes soft and sweet. Something that is very different from the energetic fucking that normally happens. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rise and sink on his cock while you kiss him. It’s as close to making love as you’ve ever had with him and you want to savor it.

It’s slower than usual but he loves it. He honestly never imagined he’d find someone to love in this hell hole of a town. The majority of people just wanted him to see where he could take them. He doesn’t want that. He wants someone to want him, Dieter, not the actor. His tongue slides against yours, languid and leisurely as you ride his cock. His hands caress your back and come up to squeeze your breast.

You moan softly, not hurt but it’s still tender as he squeezes. You don’t stop him from enjoying your breasts, knowing how much he enjoys playing with your tits. Your walls clench down around him and you whimper when he pinches your nipple softer than he normally does. “Dee,” You bite his ear lobe and scratch your nails against his scalp as you bury them into his hair. “Love you.”

“Love you. Fucking love you.” He murmurs and his cock twitches inside of you. “I want you to cum for me.” He pleads softly, reaching down to rub your clit, wanting to feel you soak him. “Cum for me baby doll.” He begs, his voice a little whiny but he can’t help himself.

Instead of being explosive so you gush all over him, your orgasm is soft. Still no less devastating than your normally orgasms in his arms. Stiffening, your cunt clamps down around him and you moan his name softly.

Your orgasm is slow but you clamp down on his cock and he loves it. “Fuck. So beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful.” He groans and he grabs your hips, thrusting up into you. He is close, overwhelmed by the emotion, and he thrusts a half dozen more times before he’s pulling you down onto his cock and painting your walls with his seed.

He smiles, feeling like he’s finally home when he’s in your arms. You caress him and he feels like he can take on anything as long as he has you. He gets to spend all his time with you and he’s worried that when the movie is finished filming, that you won’t want to see him anymore. A silly fear that’s been abated by you saying you love him but it’s still there, his insecurities. He pulls you close, breathing you in, and he kisses your hair.

****

“I have to tell the producer, I need to let out your dress.” The head of the wardrobe department shakes her head as she looks at you in the mirror. Your skintight dress doesn’t zip up end you know why, although you hadn’t said a word to anyone, not even Dieter. “You can’t tell them.” You beg immediately, nearly frozen in fear. “Please, I’m- im pregnant.”

She looks at you for a second, eyes wide, and she knows what will happen if the studio finds out. “How far along are you?” She asks, “about five months.” Her eyes dip down, “you’re carrying small. Just looks like you’ve eaten a big meal. Is it- it’s Bravo’s?” She guesses. Everyone on set knows about your dalliance with the leading man. You nod and she bites her lip, knowing that if she tattles, you’ll be forced to abort, even at five months. “I’ll let the dress out. I won’t tell anyone.” She vows, knowing she can’t betray you when you’re such a kind woman in an industry full of demanding witches.

“Thank you- thank you.” You turn around and reach for her hands. “I cannot ever repay you.” You gush, nearly in tears with gratitude. You know what this industry is like and what they will do. They forced Judy to get an abortion, and they wouldn’t hesitate to do it to you. “I promise I have been watching what I eat so I don’t gain much.” You promise her quietly. “But my breasts are getting bigger.”

“We will fix it, sweetheart.” She promises, knowing she can’t do much but she can take the dresses out. “Only five more weeks of shooting. You will need to be careful.” She warns you, having seen too many tragedies when it comes to pregnant actresses. You nod, squeezing her hands in thanks and she grabs her measuring tape to take your new measurements so she can take out your costumes.

It doesn’t take long for her to re-measure you, making you feel a lot better and you put on your dressing gown when she’s done. If anyone asks, the costume ripped and she’s mending it while she’s letting it out. You leave wardrobe and move over to the beverage cart, pouring yourself a water and resisting the urge to light a cigarette. You’ve heard it could be bad for babies, so you’ve quit.

Dieter walks through the halls of the studio looking for you. Script in hand and smoke hanging from his mouth, he’s trying to find you to discuss the script changes from the writers and he finds you in your dressing room. “Damn baby girl.” He murmurs, setting his script down and taking a drag of his smoke as his eyes trail along your front. “Gorgeous as always.”

You smile as you look at him, handsome as always and it’s by sheer will that you don’t reach down to touch your stomach. The baby has started moving and it makes you feel incredibly emotional every time. It also seems to be when Dieter is around. “Hey baby.” You walk over to him, trying to ignore the smell of the smoke, it’s started disagreeing with you. “They are having to work on my dress, there was a tear in it.”

He hums, leaning in to kiss you. “Probably me.” He jokes, knowing you’ve had a few quickies between shooting scenes. You chuckle and he kisses along your neck, “you read the revisions?” He asks, picking up the script. “They want us to do some running shit. Want you to run after me.” He says, handing the paper to you.

“Running?” You hadn’t looked at the revisions, too busy with the wardrobe department, but you take the script and look it over as Dieter continues to kiss you. “Why? There shouldn’t be running.”

“It’s some new love scene. They want you to chase me when I get into the taxi. Want you to scream at me that you love me but I don’t hear you. I ride off until we reunite.” He says between kisses to your neck, “you gotta scream out that you loveeee me.” He teases against your skin.

“Ohhhh noooo.” You hum, smiling because you know he is grinning as he continues to kiss you. “It will be so hard to act that out.” Your hands on his waist slide around his back and you lean into him for a moment. You are worried about the running, but it shouldn’t be too bad. You’ve been moving a lot and it’s not like you have to be in bed the entire time you are pregnant. As long as you don’t fall, you should be good.

Dieter smirks, leaning in to softly kiss you. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs, “you fucking know that, right?” He asks you, his dark eyes burning into yours. “Most beautiful woman here and I’m so lucky to have you, baby doll.” Dieter murmurs against your jaw.

“I love you, Dieter.” You whisper softly, wanting him to know that you love him and not just something you are saying for the movie. “I think we need to lock the door of my dressing room and have some fun before we film. What do you say?”

“I like the way you think.” Dieter smirks, pulling away from you to lock your dressing room door behind him and he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms so he can kiss you properly. Smoke spirals from the smoke he abandoned in the ashtray and his tongue slides against yours while his hands squeeze your ass.

You moan softly, aware that you have to be quiet. Everyone is aware of your relationship on set but you don’t publicly display it. Your body aches for him, the boost to your libido insane during the pregnancy that the father of your child doesn’t even know about. Dieter’s hand dives for the ties to your dressing gown but you shake your head. “No time to get undressed.” You murmur.

He can’t deny you anything. His hips pressing against your ass as he sets a harsh pace, the slapping sounds and your combined moans and pants the only sounds in the dressing room. “Always feel so fucking good.” He grunts, knowing that he can’t be anywhere else. He stopped going to orgies, stopped seeking out others. All he can think about is you. You. You. You.

“I love- fuck, I love you, Dee.” You will have to tell him. You need to tell him now, but you can’t. You’re afraid of what he might say, what he might tell the studio if you do. It won’t be too much longer until the movie is in the can and then you can tell him. If he decides he wants to leave you, so be it.

“Love you. So much, baby doll. Jesus, you - can’t stop thinking about you. All I fucking think about. Stopped taking goddamn drugs because they don’t compare to you. Only get high on you now.” He confesses, “I love you.” He grits his teeth, fucking into you a little faster.

His confession makes you cry out. Falling over the edge and clamping down around his cock, you soak him with your juices. Feeling the incredible flood of warmth seep through your veins and makes you slump against the table.

He hisses when you clamp down on him, never getting tired of how you feel, how you sound when you cum. “Fuck. Oh shit. Shit.” He curses as he thrusts a half dozen more times before he’s pushes deep and cumming inside of you with a hiss of your name. Painting your walls, he leans over you to kiss your neck.

“So good baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes and enjoying the way that he fills you up. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that.” You murmur quietly. “We should get married.”

He pulls out of you, spinning you around so you are looking at him. “You serious?” He asks, wondering if you are just rambling in the haze of your orgasm. “You want to be my wife?” He asks breathlessly. He knows he’s a difficult man to love. Hell, he changes his religion every other week. He isn’t easy to be around yet here you are, still here months later. “You wanna marry me?”

“I want to marry you.” You promise breathlessly. “I want nothing more than to marry you.” You want to tell him about the baby but you don’t. Figuring there will be time for that later. You don’t want him to think the only reason you ask him to marry him is because of the baby. “We can go to Vegas.”

Dieter cups your cheeks, “yeah? You wanna elope? I won’t have your daddy trying to shoot my ass?” He jokes softly and you shake your head, reaching up to caress his wrists. “I want to marry you.” You declare and Dieter grins, leaning in to softly kiss you. “I wanna marry you too. Let’s tell them you’re sick so we can get off set today. We can be in Vegas tonight to get married tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You giggle against his lips and nod. “I’ll tell them that I’m having horrible bleeding and cramps and cannot possibly run.” You tease,

Kissing him once more before pulling away. Everything seems perfect, completely in love with Dieter and about to go elope with him. You hope he never finds out about your deal with the studio because he would never forgive you.

****

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The officiant declares and Dieter wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours. “Mrs. Bravo.” He coos when he pulls back, grinning in awe that he’s married to you.

You kiss him desperately, clinging to his arms. “Mr. Bravo.” You bat your lashes at him playfully. “How does it feel to be a married man?” You ask, blissfully happy that he wanted to marry you.

He grins, kissing you softly. “It - it’s like I’m finally where I belong.” He admits quietly, the weight of his wedding ring on his finger is welcome and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “I love you baby doll. Let’s go celebrate. Champagne!” He says, pulling back from you.

You giggle, knowing that you cannot have more than a sip of champagne but you can’t deny him. “Champagne and then I want to go back to the hotel with my husband.” You beg. Once you get back to L.A. you will have to pretend that you aren’t Dieter’s wife and take off the gorgeous ring he has slipped on your finger.

The champagne is popped once you’re back in your suite and Dieter wants tonight to be all about you both. No movie, no press, nothing but the two of you. He leans in to kiss you, loving how it feels to belong to you.

“I love you.” You promise him, smiling at him as you set your champagne down. You had one tiny sip, but you know that Dieter won’t notice once you start kissing. “I love my husband. Dieter Bravo.”

Fuck, he can’t get enough of hearing that. “Come on baby. Wanna make love to my wife.” He says, “my beautiful movie star wife.” He coos, “I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” He murmurs, pulling you into his lap.

You hum, making sure that you don’t squish your belly, and wrap your arms around him. “You love me?” You ask playfully. “Will you still love me when I’m old and fat?” You ask it as a joke, but you are worried that he won’t like your body once you have had your baby. He’s used to gorgeous men and women and it would break your heart if he rejected you.

Dieter snorts, “you gonna love me when I’m old and fat too? Im gonna be a miserable old fucker. You ready to deal with me?” He asks, caressing your back, “I’ll love you no matter what, baby doll.” He vows, knowing he’s been fickle his entire life but that’s because he was searching for something, for you.

“You are going to be distinguished.” You argue, running your fingers through his hair. “Your hair will be salt and pepper and you’ll still have adoring fans throwing themselves at you.” You pout, kissing his lips. “And I’ll still think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

Dieter grins, pleased that you are saying that. “And you’d still be the most gorgeous fucking woman in Hollywood.” He assures you, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Are you gonna ride my cock, sweetheart? You wanna have married sex?” He teases, his fingers dipping beneath your dress.

“Yes.” You moan breathlessly. You have been riding him more, scared of him discovering your belly so it has been easier to mount him. He finds your panties easily and push them to the side. The short, white, sheath dress that was your wedding dress is bunched at your hips and covers your belly wonderfully.

Dieter groans when you reach down to take him out of his pants. He’s hard and aching for you. “Take what’s yours.” He orders, his brown eyes wide in awe as you sink down onto him. “Fuckkkk.” He hisses, head tilting back as you take him inside of you.

“I love you.” You pant breathlessly. “I love this cock. I love how you feel inside me, how you make me feel like the only woman in the world.” You babble as you take him deeper, spilling all the thoughts you’ve had since you’ve fallen in love with him. “I want you, only you.”

Dieter swears that his heart is about to explode out of his chest. He hisses, hands fumbling to squeeze your ass and he pants when you clench around him. “I love you. I want you, only you baby doll. Had me since the moment we met. The night we shared Lance. You are - fuck - the woman I’ve been waiting for. I love you. I love you.” He pants, swallowing harshly as he struggles to put into words how he feels about you. Ironic considering he’s an actor.

You moan his name and kiss along his neck. “I know, I love you. I love you too.” It’s all you can say, all you can feel beyond the utter bliss of having him inside you.

Your whimpers make him groan and he rocks up into you. “Cum for me baby. Want my wife to cum for me.” He pleads, his fingers digging into your flesh and he desperately wants to feel you cum for him.

Your body is sensitive, primed for an orgasm and it doesn’t take many more thrusts to give into it. Tossing your head back, you are confident that he will catch you as you cry his name. Riding out your orgasm with a whimper chant of it again and again.

“Good girl, baby doll. Such a good girl for me.” Dieter grunts as you flutter around his cock. He can’t help it, he needs to cum. Seeing his ring on your finger has him feral and he braces his feet so he can push up into you, “fuck fuck fuck. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He spits out at once until he’s cumming, painting your walls with his hot seed. Panting, he rests his forehead against your sternum, feeling surrounded by you.

You sigh happily, closing your eyes and smiling. Feeling like this is the perfect moment. Nothing is going to change the way you feel about Dieter and you know that he is the love of your life. “Perfect, baby.” You coo softly. “You are perfect and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

****

“You okay?” Dieter asks when you down the glass of water in between scenes. It’s been two months since you have been married, still living apart due to the studio but as soon as you are finished, you’ll be moving in with Dieter. Today is the last day of filming, the final scenes that got pushed back. You running after the cab.

“I don’t feel that good.” You admit, taking a handkerchief and patting your face where you are sweating. You’ve been feeling off since you woke up but you are still another month and a half from being due. The studio still has no idea, since you are carrying so small. It still just looks like you have eaten a large lunch and the wardrobe department has been magical at concealing your baby bump. “I’ll be okay.”

Dieter frowns, “maybe we shouldn’t do the scene today. I’m sure we can move it to tomorrow.” He doesn’t want you to exert yourself. It’s been a long shoot and he knows you must be exhausted. He is.

The director shakes his head, “no, no. We get this done now. The studio is pissed off that we have gone over budget and time. This gets done today.”

“I’ll be fine.” You insist, shaking your head. You know that the sooner you get the movie in the can, the sooner you can tell the studio that you aren’t adhering to their deal anymore. You don’t care if the movie you’ve wanted to make forever never gets done or if you never work in Hollywood again. You want a life with your husband, your child. “What’s one scene? We’ll be done in no time.”

Dieter is concerned for his wife, the wedding ring he slides onto his finger every night and takes off every morning is in his pocket and he sighs as he steps aside, knowing you can’t be argued with. “ Honey, if it’s too much, we can move this to tomorrow. I don’t want you to get sick.“

Giving him a weak smile as another uncomfortable pain passes through you, you shake your head again. He has seemed to worry more about you since your elopement. It’s very sweet. “I’ll be fine. I want this movie to be done.” You give him a pointed look. “I have plans for this weekend.”

Dieter smirks, knowing what you’re talking about. You decided to take a mini break and rent a house on the beach, spend the weekend together since you are having to live apart. He winks at you and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “Let’s get it done and then we are finished.” He says, offering you a smile despite the worry still being there.

After listening to the director’s wants for the scene, you step on your mark and wait as the car is started and Dieter climbs inside. “Action!” The call prompts you to cry out for your husband’s character and start waving your hands. “Stop! Stop! I love you!” As the car takes off, you start running forward.

Dieter is supposed to drive off but he looks behind him to wave like he’s supposed to and he sees you collapse. “Stop the fucking car!” He hisses, jolting when the driver slams on the brakes and he gets out, rushing over to you. “Baby, baby doll. What’s wrong? You okay?” He asks and the director shouts ‘cut’ but Dieter doesn’t hear it.

You are grasping your stomach and sobbing out in pain. “I- I’m pregnant!” You cry out and you know there is no way for everyone to find out now. There is a puddle of water underneath you where your water broke. Despite how early it is, the baby is coming. “I- I need - Dieter!” You scream as another pain rips through you, harder and more intense than any of the others.

“Pre-pregnant?” Dieter gasps, shocked and he shakes his head, “when? How? I- fuck. You’re pregnant?” Dieter yells and kneels down beside you, eyes wide with fear. “You’re pregnant?” He chokes, knowing it’s only him who could be the father.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I should have- have told you.” You pant out, trying to catch your breath. “I-I didn’t want- the studio- they- you know-“ you break off when another pain rushes over you and your teeth gnash together to keep from screaming again.

Dieter cannot believe you kept this from him. He’s beyond hurt but he can’t show that, knowing he has to keep strong in front of the studio. “Will someone call a fucking ambulance?” He shouts, getting desperate to make sure you’re okay. However upset he is, you’re his wife and he needs to make sure you’re okay.

A crowd is gathering around you, people wide eyes and whispering. You know there is no way this isn’t getting out. Reaching out, you grab Dieter’s hand, terrified that something had gone wrong and you’ve hurt your baby. “I-I love you.” You gasp out. “It’s- the baby is early.”

Dieter doesn’t respond, his mind whirling and he can’t focus when all he can think is “you’re pregnant.” His child. With his child. He can barely breathe himself and he squeezes your hand back, terrified and relieved when the paramedics make their way through the crowd to get to you.

Everyone gasps, glancing over at the producers and director who are equally shocked. Dieter ignores them, knowing he has to be with you, even if it’s to get answers, so he gets into the ambulance and holds your hand as the ambulance speeds away from the studio. “Eight months?” Dieter chokes, closing his eyes.

He hates the idea of being a father, your heart sinks and you close your own eyes to try to hold back a sob. “I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I-I was scared. I didn’t realize it until I- until we were serious and I didn’t want to sc-scare you too.” Tears of agony and sorrow leak out of the corner of your eyes.

“Why - why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, confused and wondering why you haven’t told him. “We - we got married and you didn’t - you didn’t tell me. Jesus Christ, we have had sex. How didn’t I know?” He shakes his head, “I should’ve known. Jesus. Fuck. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I- if the studio found out, they would- you know they would have had me terminate it.” You need him to understand. “I didn’t- I know that I - I couldn’t risk them- I-“ you are cut off by the low, inhuman hiss that you let out, squeezing his hand. You sigh and pant when it passes. “I didn’t know until I was too far along and I knew the studio would tell you about the deal I made with them.”

Dieter frowns, “the deal? What deal?” He is confused, unsure of what the hell you’re talking about when you’re in labor with a baby he knew nothing about. He’s in pain and he wants to know what the fuck is going on.

Everything will come out and Dieter will hate you so it doesn’t matter now. You are crying and you hold onto his hand tightly. “When- when I met you, the studio told me that if I kept you out of the press, from-from behaving badly, they would finance the script I had written.” You confess, immediately rolling into another contraction that takes your breath away and leaves you unable to beg him for forgiveness.

Dieter rears back, his eyes wide and he slowly shakes his head in disbelief. “You- I- I don’t understand. You- we are married? We are - what the fuck?” He hisses, furious with the studio and with you for lying to him. You’re his wife and you didn’t think he deserved to know that you have been bribed into spending time with him.

“I know. I love you Dee, I love you, I promise.” You know he won’t believe you but you have to tell him. Your eyes beg him to believe you, “I don’t care if they blacklist me. I want to be with you. I want our baby. Our baby, Deeeeeeeee!” You cry out when another pain slams into you.

Dieter shakes his head, “I can’t believe - fuck.” He winces, feeling betrayed and yet you’re his wife. You’re about to have his baby. “I wish- why didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, tears stinging in his eyes. The ambulance comes to a stop at that moment and Dieter leans back so the paramedics can take you into the hospital.

You don’t answer him, you can’t answer him as you get caught up in the business of getting into the hospital. You want him with you but they won’t let him come back behind the double doors and you know that he has every reason to leave you. You might never see Dieter again.

Dieter is escorted to the father’s waiting room. He is itching for a smoke and one of the other dads-to-be hands him one.

“First?” He guesses and Dieter pauses for a second so he can light up the cigarette and he nods, exhaling the smoke.

“Yeah.” He is still reeling from the barrage of bad news you’ve dumped on him and he swallows harshly, pacing as he tries to process what you’ve told him.

“It’ll be fine.” The man takes a drag off his own cigarette and blows it out. “My wife’s having our third. Little girl.” He looks over at the stack of magazines. “Bring a newspaper, though. Those magazines are at least five months old.”

Dieter rubs his forehead as he sits down, leaning between his legs, cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air as he struggles to come to grips with the fact that he’s about to become a father, and his wife lied to him. “Thanks for the advice.” He snorts and the guy squints, adjusting his glasses. “Hey, ain’t you that actor guy?” He asks and Dieter sighs, “yeah. That’s me.” The guy grins, “no kidding. Wait till I tell my old lady who I met. Who’s the lucky lady?” He jerks his chin towards the ring Dieter subconsciously takes out of his pocket and slides onto his finger. Dieter says your name, knowing that the press will get hold of the news so it doesn't matter anymore to keep it a secret. “Her? She’s gorgeous. You’re a lucky son a bitch.” He says and Dieter snorts, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Inside the delivery room, you are sobbing for Dieter, panicked and desperate to talk to him, to have him nearby as the doctors refuse to tell you if the baby is okay. After too long pitching a fit, they knocked you out, drugging you.

Dieter hasn’t heard anything, starting to panic as he waits to hear from a doctor or nurse about you and the baby. His foot bounces up and down as the minutes tick by and he can’t take it. He stands up, the chair scrapping and he grabs the passing nurse. “I need to know what’s happening with my wife. Right now.” He demands, unable to take it any longer.

The nurse pulls her arm away from him and turns to start lecturing him, eyes widening when she recognizes the face of her favorite movie star. “M-Mr. Bravo.” Everyone in the labor department knows that the famous actress in labor had been calling for him until you were put to sleep to rest. The fact that you were married almost makes her speechless, but giddy to know something that hasn’t been reported. “Your wife has been unsettled and distressed so the doctor gave her something to help her rest. The baby was almost ready to come out. It will be just a little longer.” She assured him, taking his hand because she can say she touched a movie star.

Dieter looks down at her hand gripping his and immediately pulls it away. “So are they okay? No one is telling me anything.” He hisses, “I need to know if they are okay. Has the baby been born yet?” He asks and she shakes her head, “not yet.” Just as Dieter opens his mouth to respond, he hears his name called behind him. Turning, he sees the executives from the studio and he narrows his eyes, “what are you doing here?” He hisses, feeling betrayed by the producers and director who persuaded you to lie to him, to babysit him.

“Trying to contain this disaster.” The producer shakes his head, frowning heavily. “Luckily, the hospital staff can’t say anything, but have you talked to anyone? I don’t want this getting out. Stupid girl. She should have aborted the damn thing the second she found out she was pregnant. Her career is over.” His cold eyes flicker over to Dieter. “Although you will come away unscathed.”

Dieter can’t believe what they are saying. “Are you- are you fucking joking? This is my wife. My child. I- I didn’t know she was pregnant but I’m not just gonna walk away. We are married.” Dieter announces and the execs shake their heads. “No one gave you permission to be married.” Dieter snorts, “no because we didn’t need it because we are adults.”

“Well, we will get the marriage annulled.” He tells you dismissively. “While she was good at keeping you from fucking half of Hollywood, she fucked up. Marrying you, getting pregnant.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “No wonder she’s been quiet when I ask how things are going. She knew she wasn’t going to get her movie made. Although I’m still going to make it, just without her.”

“No. No. You can’t do that. She - it was me who came inside of her. I knew the possible consequences.” He reasons, “You cannot annul my marriage to her. I love her.” He chokes, still worried about you.

“Love? You have fucked half of Hollywood and you expect us to believe you love her? Come on now, we are doing you a favor.”

Dieter growls, reaching out to grab the executive by his collar, “don’t fucking test me right now. My wife is having our child and I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll spread you over the fucking floor.”

The director looks ready to jump in but the producer shakes his head. “Think carefully, Dieter. You’re a star because I want you to be.” He warns him. “Fight me on this and you’ll never make another movie. You’ll lose everything.”

Dieter growls, “fuck you.” He pushes him away, “you think you own me but you don’t. I’ll get work outside of this studio. I’ll - I’ll go to Warner.” He threatens, “don’t you fucking mess with me or my family.”

The studio exec scoffs and shakes his head. “They won’t take you. You’re a liability, Bravo. Why do you think I had to bribe your wife to spend time with you?” He asks, smirking. “She’s probably going to leave you anyway so why don’t you make a deal for yourself? Save something from all this.” He suggests, needing Dieter to agree in order to get the annulment.

Dieter can’t stop himself, he pulls his hand back and surges forward to punch the exec. For voicing his fears, that you will leave him eventually everyone does. “Owwww.” Dieter whines as soon as he punches, his hand aching and he whimpers, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck, that hurt. You’re gonna fucking leave.” He growls, “get out of this hospital otherwise I’ll call the security.” The other men in the room stand up, having seen Dieter’s worry and are prepared to help him kick those assholes out.

Shaking his head, the producer reached up and rubs his jaw. “You’re finished Bravo.” He spits. “I’ll make sure you never film another scene and your habits are known around town.” He warns, turning on his heels and stomping out of the waiting room, the director on his heels.

Dieter pants, his hand throbbing but the doctor walks into the room and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than hearing how you are. “What’s happening? How is she?” He asks and the doctor smiles, “congratulations, Mr. Bravo. You have a son. He’s small, but healthy. Would you like to see him?” He asks and Dieter nods, the other dad patting him on the back. “Congrats.” Dieter follows the doctor, “and my wife?” He asks, “she’s recovering.” He guides Dieter to the nursery and Dieter looks down at the baby wrapped up in a blue blanket.

Slowly blinking, you feel heavy, lethargic. Your mouth is dry and your body hurts as you start to do a mental tally on yourself. Head throbbing, you look around to realize that you are still in the hospital. “Hello?” You start to panic when you don’t hear anyone or see anyone in your room. You don’t expect Dieter stayed but you realize your stomach is flat and there’s no bassinet in your room. “Hello! Where’s my baby!”

"He needs to be with her." Dieter insists and the nurse doesn't deny him, wheeling the baby into the room you are in and you are crying. "Baby doll, what's wrong?" He asks, leaning in to kiss your forehead and wrapping his arms around you. "He's here. Our son. We have a son, sweetheart." Dieter murmurs against your skin.

“A son? He’s okay?” You gasp out through your tears, struggling through the after effects of the medication to sit up. “I need- I need to hold him. Please, let me see him.” You beg, wanting to hold your son and touch him after the trauma of his birth. “A son.” Blinking through the tears, you can’t believe that Dieter is here.

He doesn't hesitate to cradle the baby, carrying him over to you and you take him into your arms.Dieter sees you holding the baby and his eyes sting. He understands now why you took the risk to hide the baby from him, from the studio. He wouldn't have wanted the child, not at first, and you would've been forced to have an abortion. Looking at his son, there's no way he could deny how much he already loves him. "He's small, but healthy. They want to observe him to make sure he's okay to go home in a few days." Dieter explains, sniffing as he reaches out to caress the baby's head.

“He’s okay.” You start crying again, relief and joy that your son is okay making you emotional. “Oh, baby boy. I’m so sorry that I didn’t hold you right away.” You coo, looking down at him. Counting fingers and unwrapping his blanket so you can count toes. “You are so precious, gorgeous.” Looking up at Dieter, you hope that he loves him as much as you do. “I’m so sorry baby, I know- I know you must hate me.”

Dieter swallows harshly, knowing he should because you kept it from him, lied to him about why you even wanted to be around him in the first place. “Baby. I- I should hate you. I should. But I can’t because - because I understand. Doll, I know why you had to keep him a secret. I just wish you’d told me. All those nights together…how didn’t I figure it out? I- I feel fucking stupid.” He shakes his head.

“No. You aren’t stupid.” You insist. “I was carrying small. The wardrobe head only knows because my dresses were a little tight. Even she says she’s not seen someone change so little carrying a baby.” You had worried, but the secret doctor you had seen assured you that the baby was healthy. You had visited him privately and paid him well to keep from reporting back to anyone who mattered.

Dieter shakes his head and closes his eyes, “I- I don’t know - fuck. A baby. I- I never imagined I’d be a father.” He confesses, closing his eyes in pain.

“Oh.” Your heart drops and you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. You had hidden the pregnancy from Dieter and lied about why you were interested in him when you first met. “I understand.” You choke out, trying to keep from crying. “I- it’s okay.” You hold your son close. “I don’t- I’ll sign whatever you want. You can pretend that you never- that this is just a bad dream for you. I’m going to move out of L.A. Make it easier for you. My career is over anyway.”

Dieter shakes his head, hating that you misunderstood him. “Baby no. No. I- I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to lose you or the baby. I love you. I love you so much and I - you’re the best thing I’ve ever had. Baby doll, don’t leave. Stay with me. We will figure everything out.” He chokes, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“I was going to tell you this weekend.” You admit quietly. “I wanted to tell you, I almost did so many times.” You hate that he is hurt, hate that you hurt him. “I love you, I love you so much Dieter, and I was so afraid I was going to lose you. You are kind, funny, sweet, generous. So much more than you show everyone and I’m so lucky that you chose me.”

Dieter shifts to brush your lips with his. “I love you. You and our son. Fuck, we have a son.” Dieter says, reaching down to stroke the head of the baby at your breast. “I want to start my own studio.” He announces after a few moments.

“You do?” Your eyes widen in shock and despite that, you know Dieter would do well. During your late nights together, you had talked about different artistic shots you would add. He was talented in ways that would translate into director or producer well. “That’s great!”

Dieter is pleased that you think it’s a good idea. He agrees and leans in to kiss you, “we will figure it out baby. We have the contacts. No one gives a fuck about who’s behind the desk. They only care about who’s on the screen.

“We’ll figure it out.” You agree, knowing that there will be a lot to work out, but as long as Dieter wants to be a family, you will help however he needs. “But right now, we need to name our little boy.”

Dieter shifts to sit beside you, wrapping his arm around you and still stroking the baby’s head. “What names do you have in mind, baby doll? You’ve had longer to think about it than me.” He says that with no malice but it’s true.

“I didn’t think about names.” You admit. “I didn’t know what we were having and I couldn’t really decide names to pick. What name are you thinking?” You would love for your husband to name your son.

“What about Edward? Eddie for short?” He suggests, “it was, uh, it was my father’s name.” He reveals, knowing you have heard Dieter talk about his mom but no word about his father who died when he was a young man.

“What about your dad’s name? That way he has both of us.” Dieter smiles as he looks down at the now sleeping baby. You nod, repeating your father’s name. “I love it.” He grins, leaning in to softly kiss you. “So does this mean no sex for a while?” He teases, nudging his nose against yours.

You chuckle quietly as your son sleeps in your arms. “No sex, but I think I owe you quite a few blow jobs.” You admit, smirking. “To make up for keeping everything from you.”

Dieter chuckles, kissing your hair, “we have the rest of our lives for blowjobs, baby doll.” He promises, closing his eyes as he rests his head against yours. He adores you and he knows you need to have a serious talk about everything you kept from him but he loves you. He wouldn’t change anything now. You and Edward are his next big project. Hollywood can wait, Dieter has finally settled down and many in Hollywood will mourn the news (men and women alike) but he has found his leading lady and he intends to keep her for the rest of his life.

#hollywood au #pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x actress!f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

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Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half.

He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak.

It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try.

Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame.

“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England.

“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”

“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.

Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go.

Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie.

Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off.

He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway.

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once.

It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”

They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.

It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day.

Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.

#this is a TRULY bonkers AU like wtf even is the venn diagram of steddie fans and people who exclusively like the BBC GBBO #I know nothing about the process of creating reality tv so I most likely will not be continuing this #(plus ST is just so intrinsically American to me)#but I saw the GBBO musical last week and that's what prompted this little abomination #steddie #GBBO AU #ETA: ftr I rated the GBBO musical 2.5/5. I have a colour-coded spreadsheet.#decent songwriting & solid performances but the emotional beats/pacing were all over the place and it did some weird revisionist callbacks #plus the level of assumed thirst for not!Paul Hollywood was wildly off-putting to me #a person who finds neither his personality nor his appearance in any way attractive #anyway I paid £15 for my ticket and that felt right to me. I will see literally any show for £15.

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goth-mami-writer · 2 months

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POV: You're the quiet intern just trying to make it down these steps⬇️

@short-honey-badger who helped me cough this up a few months ago, and we had a lotttt of fun.

⚠️(absolutely not my art. The artist is @yunonoai on TWT. Thx!)⚠️

《 Your director told you to use the back stairwell after the day was finished with final takes in filming. You were the new intern on set and still learning everyone's roles and names, but you knew the cast well. After grabbing your coffee and bag, then being told by the director to use the back stairwell due to some work being done on the front entrance, your stomach churned.

That's where the cast took their smoke breaks between sets and most of them....didn't know you. You were the newbie, and you saw how some of them looked at you in-between filming takes. All of them towered above even the director sometimes, and intimidating just wasn't the word. Some were very cordial. Or at least friendly. But for others... that just wasn't the case. They were almost entirely like their fictional character. Smug and coarse in interaction.

You took a deep breath and opened the door to the back stairwell. The first thing to hit you was the smell of deep, musky cigarette. It almost gagged you because half of them were avid smokers, often being late to set times from hurrying back from their smoke breaks. The heat from the outside lot met you then, and you squinted your eyes from the bright light that illuminated your descent. But you realized now that it wasn't just a few of them here.

It was all of them.

The villains, the noble protagonists. The anti heroes.

Oh, God. Everyone was here.

"Heyy.." The half of them called out in unison while the others only gave a you side glance from their unenthused expressions.

All of their legs were folded across the concrete steps, making it difficult for you to navigate your way down safely. You swallowed hard and decided to speak up for those who might have not realized you were needing through.

"Uhm, excuse me. Sorry." You said with your hands clutched on the strap of your bag.

Nanami, the upstanding gentleman of the group, was the first to stand. He was sitting right at the front, that being your only sigh of relief. He was one of the oldest, and his presence on set always made everyone feel safe. He was especially kind to women.

"Here, dear, I'll help you through." Nanami said with a charming smile as he dubbed out his cigarette into the concrete. He told everyone to mind their legs, and only half of them listened.

"Oh, come the fuck on, she'll be fine." Remarked Toji, the boisterous asshole who spoke his mind with a sneer no matter who was listening. He rolled his eyes and moved his knees from your path. Nanami held his hands on your shoulders as you began down and you tried not to look at each of them but it was so hard. All of them were so endearingly attractive in their own specific ways.

Sure Toji was snide and downright rude as hell but his cocky grin made all of the girls' knees shake. It leveled everything about his asshole personality.

To your immediate left, was Geto, the quiet protagonist in the show who nudged the man to his side Gojo, who moved his blindfold up, moving out of your way accordingly with a smile.

Gojo turned his head down the stairs and everyone seemed to pay attention when his very telling blue eyes came from beneath his dark blindfold,

"Guys, let the intern through."

"Eat a dick, Satoru." Toji remarked from across the steps.

Everything was going fine. You were about halfway down now with Nanami's hands holding your shoulders protectively until you finally passed Toji by who began to loudly exclaim from behind you once his eyes fell low as you passed him by,

"Goddamn! She can walk past me anyday!"

You felt a very intentional smack to the back of your ass only to be returned by Nanami who you could hear reprimanding the eager man with a vicious grip to his collar before apologizing to you in your ear,

"I am so sorry."

"It's okay." You said with your face painted a blinding shade of red, and you looked down, just hoping to make it down the rest of these steps without being humiliated further.

Gojo and Geto had a little more class, only sharing a menacing look to each other at the sight of your ass so close as you passed and now you were finally closer to the bottom flight of stairs, still being led by Nanami.

Here at the bottom held two of the more unsavory characters that included Sukuna and Choso, two villains, however powerful and / or likable they were. Choso, the quieter one of the pair, only moved his outstretched legs, not giving a word in your direction before looking back down to his phone. His eyes were so catching and dark that you wished he would've kept your gaze. But that stare was only broken as you passed by the last loiterer there on the stairs, Sukuna.

He grew a cunning, mischievous smile and asked you with his voice that purred so seductively like a flirt no matter what he was saying,

"Hm, I've never caught your name on set?"

You told him your name and he hummed with a sultry, entertained rumble in his throat as he reached out to touch your blouse in a clear pass until he was stopped by Nanami, who was determined to not let you get touched twice.

"Hands to yourself, old man." Nanami grumbled before rubbing your shoulder as you reached the lower flight now. He asked if you'd like to be walked to your car as well, but you assured him it was fine, thanking him for being so kind.

"We'll see ya tomorrow!" Toji called down with his eyes narrowed in a haughty expression from his seat above, and you shivered hearing that.

"I promise we'll be more behaved if you take this way tomorrow! Have a good night!" Nanami promised as he made his way back up to the very first step, and you hurried now to your car. Your face was red, your arms were trembling, and your blood raced.

You weren't embarrassed or humiliated at all. Instead, it was closer to exhilaration to be so close to them in a cramped space like that. And it certainly didn't help that no one minded their manners. It only made you want it more. You fanned yourself and hoped that the front entrance that you usually took to get to the parking lot never got fixed.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #hollywood au #actor au #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #choso kamo #jjk choso #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna

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jerimovich · 9 months

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ayo edebiri + ebon moss-bachrach at the independent spirit awards for @milkshakemicrowave

#ayo edebiri #ebon moss bachrach #the bear cast #the bear #*#lmao i haven't made gifs in like 5 years #look at these fucking life ruiners tho #JUST LOOK AT THEM #the last one is my favorite thanks #where's my hollywood au

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the-badger-mole · 14 days

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Incorrect Quotes: You Drive Me (LITERALLY) Crazy!

Iroh: Having heard Zuko complaining about Katara for the thousandth time. Do you love her?

Zuko: Affronted A normal human being couldn't live under the same roof as her without going nutty! She's my idea of nothing!

Iroh: I asked you a simple question! Do you love her?

Zuko: Yes! 😡 But don't hold that against me. I'm a little screwy myself.

#atla #zutara #incorrect quotes #source: it happened one night (1934)#katara and zuko would be the perfect old hollywood movie couple #can i count this as my entry for #zutara month #day 8: actors au?#it's not EXACTLY the prompt #but it IS based on a classic movie

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kaeya-senpai · 6 days

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„A million clues, yet i still can’t find you“

#digital art #my art #pjsk #proseka #project sekai #colourful stage #toya aoyagi #akito shinonome #vbs toya #vbs akito #akitoya #AU isnt mine btw!! I originally got it from @/lio_fotia on twt and got a little too silly #Anyways 7 HOURS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 3 hours on the pin wall alone #Im ngl the title makes it sound like Akito has some major skill issue #No wonder he sucks as a detective when he got shit grades in school already #I love my loser #Oh yeah thid is a mafia x detective AU #Shit looks like a movie poster i think hollywood should hire me /j

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butmakeitgayblog · 6 months

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She is ✨Art✨

#alycia debnam carey #oh my god #no words #FINALLY people are seeing the old Hollywood glamour she embodies #my CI brain and Professor au brain are just at war rn

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avianii · 9 months

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Walking into the gym pre match to dramatic lighting to make ✨an entrance✨

I'm gonna throw this at you guys and take a 4 hours nap lmao

#this was absolutely infuriating to draw #but hey it is what it is #someone give me external validation i need it.#top gun volleyball au #top gun #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #pete mitchell #tom kazansky #nick goose bradshaw #nick bradshaw #ron slider kerner #ron kerner #rick hollywood neven #leonard wolfman wolfe #top gun fanart #fanart #aviiart

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waynes-multiverse · 14 days

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Plastic Hearts – Part 25

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

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diogxnxs · 9 days

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It's just a three feet mirror, but in those three feet we are free. Oh to be gay at the dawn of the 1940s while enduring the harsh working conditions of Golden Age Hollywood.

#Donald Duck #Mickey Mouse #DonMick #Disney #My Art #Duckverse #Ducktales #Mickey and Friends #Mouseverse #Humanized #Ducks As Humans #Actor AU #And that's the thing you wouldn't be able to do so openly so you take what you can.#JUST NEEDED SOME GOLDEN AGE HOLLYWOOD GAYS

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crazymadpassionatelove · 11 days

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A little sneak peak of something in the works...

Dedicated to my fave blonde bombshell @ab4eva 🩷

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Elvis Presley Quietly Marries At Home

The man with the famous pelvis is now a married man! Colonel Parker confirmed that Elvis married Paramount actress Leona Grace at his home in Memphis on the nineteenth of March. The wedding comes on the heels of rumors that the new Mr. and Mrs. Presley are due for a visit from the stork. The Colonel’s response? “Those are questions for a different day”. The hush hush, spur of the moment wedding did not follow an engagement announcement and no pictures of the happy couple seem to exist beyond set outtake photos. The event reportedly took place in the evening with just family and close friends in attendance totaling about 50 people. A red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting was served for dessert and sources say that Elvis's own music was played late into the night as friends danced in the backyard of Presley's Graceland mansion.

“See ya in a bit, baby doll, gotta meet with the Colonel about some stuff,” his lips lingered on her skin while he eyed her in the mirror. Leona couldn't suppress the sour look that appeared on her face.

“What sort of stuff?” she questioned cooly.

“Some movie stuff, ain't nothing for you to worry that pretty head about,” his tone was casual yet dismissive. Those were fighting words for Leona, who stomped her foot like a child and demanded to know just exactly why he was allowed to make movies while she had been regulated to pick flowers in the garden with the dogs, lounge in the pool, and shop herself silly with Patsy. She felt like a bird in a cage, albeit a gold-plated diamond-studded cage.

“Oh ya want me to start calling you my pretty little baby bird?” he teased, those long fingers, perfect for reaching all the right spots, were tickling at her ribs. Leona yanked away from his grasp and pouted. “Baby, you're a wife now, my wife, I'm gonna take care of things. No need for you to stress yourself and slave away to send money back home to your momma and granny, I had my daddy send a check two days ago,” Elvis explained, sliding on a pair of sunglasses that made him look utterly delectable as he shifted his weight from one leg to another in the doorway, seemingly unable to keep still.

---

More to come soon....

#Ashley finally writes #Whiny Baby Wife #Elvis Presley #Leona Grace Presley #Elvis #elvis x oc #Elvis x reader #lana del ray aesthetic #coquette #old hollywood #Ashley Finally Writes #elvis fanfiction #Elvis smut #elvis fic #austin butler fic #Elvis AU

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astermath · 9 months

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the premiere.

pairing: actor!steve harrington x actress!reader

summary: you're a recent addition to hollywood's up and coming promising actors. you'd recently scored the lead role in an emotional period drama, and you're more than surprised to see that top shelf douchebag and america's starboy, steve harrington, has shown up to your premiere. you’re soon confronted with his flirtatious attitude, and you feel the incessant need to put him in his place. it’s a first for both of you.

♡ landing page. ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: some cursing, mentions of sex, steve is a cocky asshole and will continue to be one, regular font below!

notes: man I do love me some actor!steve because let's be honest, joe keery easily transfers his star power over to all his characters. it's not exactly hard to believe that steve would be a respected actor. let me know what you think and / or if you’d like to be added to the tag list! ♡

They always say life moves fast in Hollywood. Back in your audition days, you wouldn’t believe it. You could practically feel the hours eating away at you as you waited for calls to be returned and scripts to be sent.

Even when you started filming your first big movie, working with such a well respected director and incredible cast, you felt like you were dragging along most of the time. Sure, it was an amazing experience, but the set hours are long, and the time spent overthinking is even longer.

Thinking about if this would be it, if this is what would put you on the map as a talented actress.

You only realised how fast time really moves in Hollywood when you’re discussing the premiere with your manager. Your first big reveal. You’re in the spotlight, everyone will be there to see you. And not just reviewers and fellow cast members, no, people you’ve looked up to before, people you’ve only ever seen on the big screen.

“Are you listening?” Your manager’s voice pulls you right out of your hazy cloud of thoughts. She’s sat across from you, glasses pushed down onto the bridge of her nose, cappuccino in one hand, the other on her laptop.

“Yeah, I’m— I’m here. I’m, uh…” You lean back, clasping your hands together. “You’ve got my attention, sorry Miranda.”

She sighs, readjusting her glasses and bringing her attention back to her screen.

Miranda has been your saviour since day one. She’s got plenty of experience, once having been an actress herself, and now works on managing mostly young women like yourself. She’s a bit tough, stern, but she’s amazing at what she does. Besides, she usually knows what’s best for you before you even know it. She’s got that motherly intuition about her, despite being unmarried without kids.

Your eyes drift over the interior of her apartment. It’s modern, sleek, like her. There’s not much personality shining through it, unless you look hard enough. Then you’d notice she likes orchids, since she has multiple of them potted and well taken care of. Or the numerous photos of the same town in Italy.

She keeps herself busy with scrolling through the list of attendees to the premiere. A bunch of yes’es, a few maybe’s, and the occasional “sorry, however, congratulations on the movie”.

She stills her movements when she gets to the bottom of the list, scrolling up again to see if she’s looking at the right column and then scrolling back down to see if she saw the name right.

“Hm,” she purses her lips, “that’s… Peculiar.”

“What is?” you perk up. Peculiar. That could mean a lot of things. Peculiar as in “your movie is scrapped, actually” or peculiar as in “you’re already nominated for an Oscar”?

“This name. I’ve never seen it on the attendee list before. At least not for my clients.”

“Miranda, you’re killing me with this suspense, please.” You lean forward, your elbows resting onto your knees.

"Steve Harrington." She pauses, and you don't know if she's doing it to be dramatic, or because she's waiting for some kind of elaborate gasp or shocked response.

Instead, you raise an eyebrow, head quirking slightly to the side. "Who?"

You can tell in your manager's eyes that she didn't expect that. Not in her facial expression, of course, she doesn't want wrinkles.

"Christ, sweetie, you're kidding right?" She lets out a dry chuckle, setting down her now empty coffee cup on the end table next to her. sofa. "We've really got to touch up on your media knowledge if you don't know who that is."

"No clue, sorry. What, is he some big deal or something?" You snatch a cookie off the coffee table and start nibbling on it mindlessly.

"Only one of the most popular up and coming actors in the industry." She starts click clacking away on her laptop, pulling up a picture of him and turning the screen around so you can see.

You raise your eyebrows. Damn, not bad. He looks to be around your age, a little older, and you can tell from just that one picture that he knows he's all that. The confidence is practically oozing out of that million dollar smile of his, expensive sunglasses tucked away in his somehow perfectly styled hair.

"So what, he's going to be there. Not like there aren't any other big celebs showing up, I'm sure I can handle myself."

"It's not that I don't think you can behave, starlight, although we'll have to go over some of the red carpet etiquette again later." She takes off her glasses and runs a hand through her short but chic hair.

"Then what is it?"

"He doesn't really... Show up to premieres, usually. Well, none that aren't for his own movies, at least."

Oh, so he is that kind of guy.

You wrap up with Miranda not long after, heading to one last fitting of your premiere gown before returning to your apartment. That's when you start to do your own research on this Harrington fella.

You sit onto your bed, leaned back against a few pillows propped up against your headboard. You open Google and start by what seems the simplest; typing in Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington age?

Steve Harrington height?

Steve Harrington movies?

The third one seems obvious, but you click it anyways. He doesn’t have a bad track record. A few nominations, one Golden Globe, he’s not slacking for sure.

Most of his stuff paints him as the type of guy you’d expect; undercover agent, the bad boy, the mob boss’ son… Makes you wonder even more why he’s showing up to the premiere of your movie. It has virtually nothing to do with the types of movies he stars in. You’re wondering why he even got an invitation to begin with, Miranda doesn’t seem like the type of woman to be sending those out to every C lister in America.

You type in his name again, curious to know more about his reputation.

Steve Harrington parents?

Steve Harrington dating history?

Though it is cliché, it does intrigue you. You’re not exactly surprised when a handful of names pop up, even one you recognise. Nancy Wheeler. You know that girl, she used to do interviews when you were still starting out. Apparently she went more into the crime journalist route, wrote a book… Pretty interesting stuff.

Almost as interesting as the breakup you’re reading so much about.

“Harrington broken in half? Did Nancy Wheeler finally have enough of his ego, or was she just looking for the next thing to report?”

“Geez, talk about a harsh headline…” You mutter to yourself. Besides her, there’s no mentions of other women he’s been confirmed to date. There’s been pictures, rumours, but you’re guessing he… Gets around.

Steve Harrington controversies?

You feel bad for clicking on it, but then again, you’re already in too deep now.

Something about nepotism, but that’s soon debunked when you realise his parents don’t do anything in the movie industry. Then there’s the Nancy thing, and something about him being difficult to work with. You could have guessed as much just by looking at the guy. You just know he flashes that smile like it’s a method of payment, and he probably gets away with it too.

You reach out and shut your laptop before you go too far down this rabbit hole. Your schedule is packed, and the premiere is only three days away. You've got better things to do than go all Sherlock on this random actor that's showing up.

Though it is unusual.

And he is handsome.

Yeah. It is true. Life does move fast in Hollywood.

Now you know for sure. Because not long ago, you were looking up Steve Harrington's name, like some deprived fangirl, and now you're on your way to the event he's supposed to be at.

The car seems packed, almost claustrophobically so. Miranda sits right of you, on the phone with someone who you can only assume to be too important to interrupt. On the left is your makeup artist, giving you some final touchups before your big entrance.

You don't know if this is the best or worst part about your rising fame. On one hand, it's all you've ever dreamed of. Of being recognised, making a name for yourself, getting to show the world what you can do. You're appreciated, celebrated, but on the other hand, you feel a bit like a product. The way you're sitting in this car, getting all dolled up, rehearsing what you'll say in the interviews... Miranda tells you you'll get used to it, but you're honestly not too sure.

Soon enough, you’re ushered out of the car by your manager. The same way you’ll never get used to the feeling of fame, is the same way you’ll never get used to having your name called out as you’re bombarded with camera flashes. This is only the entrance to the premiere, and you’re already overwhelmed. But you know that this is the worst part, so instead, you put on a smile and greet everyone.

Although you're having a little trouble walking in your gown, and not to mention those godforsaken heels, you soon make it to the actual red carpet for some photos. Your attention is called by several photographers, some asking who you're wearing, some just wanting you to look into the camera.

You look beautiful.

Your dress is a powdery blue, a close match to the dress you wear for most of the movie. It flows beautifully with your body, the silk catching the light in all the right ways. Your accessories and hair are adorned by white gold and pearls, classy, chic, but not boring. You feel like you're dressing up. Not a "let's go out somewhere fancy" dressing up, more like a "putting on your mom's heels" dressing up.

Part of all of this feels like you're playing pretend. Like you're not really supposed to be there. Like everyone's doing you a favour by being here, celebrating you and your movie. Though nothing could be further from the truth, the impostor syndrome somehow still gets to you, every time. You try not to let it show on your face, striking a casual pose, and smiling softly.

You look beautiful.

Steve thinks so too.

Only now he's reminded of why he came to this event. It's made the extra hoops he had to jump through all worth it. The extra questions by his management, the raised eyebrows when he arrived, the interviewers he, for once, has been trying to dodge.

He thought you looked pretty on the big screen, but no camera does you justice as much as the naked eye does.

He recognises something in you. Something nervous. Not necessarily innocent, just... New. It excites him a little, his mind already wandering to you allowing him to show you all the corners of the showbiz. Because he's a seasoned professional, of course. At least he likes to think so. He might only have a few years up on you, but he knows he's made for this. To act, to be famous. He knows you'd look amazing doing it next to him too.

"Mr Harrington!"

Some photographer calling his name catches him off guard, and so he brings his attention to the lens, flashing a cocky smile.

It catches your attention, too. The name more than the callout. You knew he'd be there, but for some reason you figured you'd have a bit more... Mental preparation. But what do you care, right? He probably wants you to gawk at him, be the little innocent newbie, borderline groupie, who can't believe it's really him.

You know better than to feed into his ego.

Which is why you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he smiles at you instead. You know he won't come up to you, he knows better than to embarrass you in front of all these people. You just don't know if he can resist himself later.

Then again, maybe you've got it all wrong. Maybe he just happens to really like 18th century period pieces about a girl finding a connection with her long lost mother. But somehow you'd find that hard to believe.

You go inside the theatre, and you finally get to enjoy the best part. This is when you try to disconnect from your job for a second, from the image you've built for yourself. When you're in front of the big screen, seated with all these people, you're 12 years old again.

You go watch a movie with your mom, it's your favourite time of the month. You share a large popcorn, and you can barely contain your excitement when the lights dim. Somehow, every emotion feels bigger like this. You've watched countless women pour their hearts out in movies, give their everything for their art, their passion. You've always been determined to be like them. To make other people resonate with a character so much it brings them to tears.

When you watch your own movies, you're not watching yourself. You're a little girl again, admiring the performance like you always used to. It makes this career more worth it than anything else, than all the glamour and money anyone could offer.

You bite your lip in anticipation when the theatre goes dark, toying with the bracelet on your wrist. You've seen it before, but not like this. Not like how it's meant to be watched.

Everything fits right. The music immerses you perfectly, the environments are meticulously chosen and everyone plays their part like they were born to do so.

And you're starstruck. By yourself, no less. You've always stayed humble, that's something you'd never give up. But you're also proud. So proud. This is something you've worked so hard for, everyone on the crew has, so you feel no remorse when you admit it's perfect.

The movie is emotional, and nearing the end, the melancholy of it all reaches its climax. Your character runs through a field of poppies, all blooming as she passes each one, chasing what she thinks is a vision of her mother when she was younger. The girl being chased giggles, as the main character keeps calling out her mother's name in tears. She's brought to her knees at the end of the field, the edge of a cliff, reaching desperately to hold onto the memory of her long lost mother.

You let out a tear. Hell, most people do, even Miranda can't hold it. It's one hell of a scene, the orchestral soundtrack alone could make someone cry. It makes your heart swell.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can tell someone else is really letting the waterworks go.

Wait-- That's not just someone.

That's Steve Harrington. Crying. Because of your acting.

You can tell he's trying to hide it a little, hiding his lower face behind a clenched wrist, the tears leaving little stripes of wetness on his skin. Running past his stubbly jaw, dropping onto the fabric of his tuxedo.

You can't imagine this is normal for him. Apparently it was already a rare apparition to see him at your premiere, and now he's publicly crying too. Well, you don't know if anyone else is observing it, but you know what you're seeing. That's pure, raw emotion right there.

You bring your attention back to the screen, hoping he hasn't noticed your staring.

The movie comes to a close, and the audience arises in a standing ovation. You get up, giggling a little coyly at all this sudden attention. The director comes up to you, taking your hand and bringing you along with the rest of the crew to the front so you can take a bow. Your face beams with happiness, and it's contagious.

It makes Steve return the smile, even though it's not even necessarily directed at him. You're just so pretty, all excitement and modesty, so untouched by fame's worst sides. It pulls him straight to you in a way he hasn't experienced before, there's just something so... Sincere about you. Something so gorgeous.

He makes eye contact with you as you come back up from your bow. The smile he gives you is nearly a copy and paste from the ones you saw online, where you can tell exactly what he's trying to say just from his expression. It's like his face just reads "atta girl".

It's really hot. And you hate how it makes you feel.

You exit faster than you probably should. You mutter to Miranda that you just need some fresh air, but really, you need to get away from this Harrington man before you fall head over heels for his stupid tactics. He hasn't said a word to you yet, and you already feel yourself slipping into the enthralling arms of his charm.

You change your mind, earlier was not the worst part. This is. Because now you have to pretend like you're not mentally having a crisis while still answering questions and mingling.

You deal well with most of the compliments and praise. You get a bit of butterflies every time a household name or someone you look up to acknowledges you, and you practically feel like ascending when they say they like your work.

You're in the middle of speaking to one of your co-actors and your manager, when she's suddenly giving you the eyes. With Miranda, this can mean two things;

There is a fire happening, or--

There is someone important behind you.

She's done this before when Robert De Niro was getting interviewed just a meter away from you. But you have a feeling you know who it is this time. Though you're not sure how excited you are by it.

You look over your shoulder, and surely, there he is.

All suave and charm, smooth tuxedo, freckled tan skin and perfect hair. He encapsulates the entirety of Hollywood so well, and you're not quite sure how to respond.

"I'm a little starstruck, I gotta say." he says, and you're not sure why you're even surprised that his voice is that nice.

"Really?" You give Miranda your "help me" eyes for a moment, but she's already off to get more champagne. With no lifeline to hang onto, you figure you might as well entertain him for a moment. "Guess I could say the same about you."

"Hey, I'm not the reason we're all here, am I?" He chuckles, and you're unsure if it's a rhetorical question or not. From what you can tell, maybe he does think everyone's here for him. You try your hardest to fend off those preconceptions of him, but although you are new to all of this, you’re not stupid. You know how men can be once they start getting attention.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on the movie.” He says, voice dripping with honey, placing his large warm hand over your arm. It would surprise you, if it didn’t feel so nice. “Truly a great performance, and I mean that. I’m not even usually one for period pieces.”

He doesn’t realise that makes him look even more suspicious for showing up here at all. Why would you go to a premiere for a movie of a genre you don’t like?

“Thank you, I appreciate that, Mr…” You pretend not to know his name, for multiple reasons. To make yourself seem a little more nonchalant, or maybe you just want to give his ego that little chop it so obviously needs.

“Harrington. Though I assumed you knew, my bad.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. Of course he would.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” You implore, and Steve’s eyebrows raise a little. He was hoping you wouldn’t ask that, but he supposes it was bound to happen eventually.

“Ah, well, the director is a friend of mine. I figured I’d show up for support, you know, keep the connection up.” He’s lying through his teeth, and you both know it. But part of Hollywood is pretending like you’re all not just lying to each other the whole time. You’ve gotten more used to it over time.

Neither of you mention what you saw inside. Partly because you’re unsure if you were imagining it, and partly because you wouldn’t even know where to insert it. Yet the sight of him getting emotional lingers in the back of your head.

“I thought you uh, didn’t know who I was?” Steve remarks, and you catch your own slip up now too. Why would you care if he showed up, if you didn’t even know his name?

“Oh, I do, your uh… Your name just slipped my mind.” Your nonchalant façade starts to falter, and you’re hoping it doesn’t make you look as much of a fool as you think you do.

Instead of pressing on, he chuckles. It’s a warm chuckle, low, smooth, it sends a shiver down your spine. He seems amused by you, for a reason you can’t quite make out.

He presses a hand to the small of your back, leaning in closely to your ear, and you think you might start seeing stars. He smells so incredibly good, you nearly melt into his touch, whether you mean to or not.

“Well, make sure to make it stick this time, hm, honey?”

You’re pretty sure your entire body has heated up just from hearing that. You hate how well his charm works on you, that silky voice and smug demeanour.

He pulls back, and just as you expected, he’s smiling like the cat that got the cream. “See you around, princess. Enjoy your premiere.”

You’ve had a lot of mind blowing shit happen to you already. The fact that you’re standing at your own movie premiere, surrounded by people you admire is insane to you on its own.

Now you’re getting flirted with by one of Hollywood’s golden boys, and you just have to play it cool. Pretend that you don’t feel like giggling like a teenage girl and getting all flustered. It makes you sick to your stomach. It makes you mad. That he can walk off, just like that, all cocky and confident. You don't want him to think of you like the innocent debutante that he can just play around with for a bit, before he moves on to the next young thing. You've seen that movie before.

Before you have a chance to let it get to your head, one of your costars, the younger girl that plays your little sister, comes up to you. "Geez, you okay? You look a little... Pressed."

"'M fine. Just-- a little frustrated. Sorry I haven't said hi yet, this is all... A lot, you know?"

"You'll get used to it." She sips her glass of champagne, and you want to say something about it, before you remember she's only two years younger than you. She's been an actress since she was 6 years old, she knows the industry so much better than you, and yet you feel protective over her.

"I don't think I ever will, to be honest. God, my shoes are killing me." You groan, hoping no one's close enough to hear you complain. The last thing you want is to come across as ungrateful for all this.

"Have some more champagne, that usually does the trick." She looks off to the side for a moment, and you can tell she's a little tense too. "Me and the rest of the girls on crew are going to get drinks and food later, wanna join?"

Her invitation brings a smile to your face. Though you're constantly surrounded by people, Hollywood brings a profound sense of loneliness into your life. You have trouble fitting in, connecting. Everyone is all smiles and compliments, yet no one talks, no one calls. Anything is rarely personal. And making friends is hell.

"I'd love to, seriously. Tell you what, it's my treat. To celebrate our premiere, hm?"

She smiles back, leaving her empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. "Cool. I'm off to the bathroom, cab's gonna be out front around 8."

She leaves you shortly after, and suddenly it's there again. That profound sense of loneliness. It's got you left thinking about what Steve said to you. How he talked to you. That tone.

It makes you feel small. Yet you hold on to every word.

How infuriating.

The rest of the premiere is a dazed flurry of conversations and pictures taken in your memory. You've got too much on your mind now to enjoy most of it, and you damn that smug asshole for being the reason for that.

You walk outside, the sky being a lot darker than you expected. You sigh, the air you breathe out coming out in little clouds. April shouldn't be this cold, not in California, at least.

You look around, no cab to be seen yet. Your eyes catch sight of a familiar man smoking. He flicks open an expensive lighter, his hands shielding the flame from the wind.

The fire frames his face in a special kind of light. It shows both the pretty freckles scattered on his skin, and the bags present under his eyes. The strange dichotomy of his personality, represented so simply on his face.

It just pisses you off even more how handsome he is.

Before you realise it, your legs are taking you closer to him, heels clicking onto the pavement as you strut over. He only seems to notice your presence when your shadow casts over him, taking away the yellowish glow of the streetlight.

"Missed me already?" He smiles, lips still wrapped around the cigarette before he takes it between his fingers.

"You can't talk to someone like that. At least not to me." You don't know where this sudden surge of confidence sprouted from, your words even surprising yourself.

"I'm sorry?" He stands up straighter, and though his stature is definitely taller than yours, you try not to let it phase you.

"I know what you're trying to do. I'm not dumb. Maybe you think I am, but I'm not." You cross your arms, partly to shield yourself from the cold, partly to feign courage.

"And what do you think I'm doing then, hm?" The smile on his face makes you want to desperately smack it right off. He really is exactly like people say.

"Don't act stupid with me. You think you've got me all figured out, huh? You randomly show up to my premiere, and the first time we talk, you try to butter me up. Did you expect me to drop to my knees for you or something? Thank you for gracing me with your almighty presence, which for the record, I did not ask for?"

He's speechless for a second. This is a first. Usually, when a woman is cussing him out, it's after they've dated, not before.

He chuckles, dropping his half smoked cigarette onto the ground and stamping it out with his shoe.

"Sounds like you think you've got me all figured out, doll."

"Don't call me that."

"It's not a bad thing."

"I decide that. Not you."

He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning his head back for a moment. "Geez... So much for first impressions huh?"

"I'm not the one trying to get into the other's pants now, am I?"

"Coulda fooled me."

"God, you're fucking insufferable." You laugh dryly, rolling your eyes. "You think I'm some stupid showbiz newbie, that I'm supposed to be grateful you're even talking to me. Maybe have sex with you and see what opportunities I get out of it."

He just looks at you now. You don't know if that's better than a response, because he's neither confirming nor denying it. Or maybe he realises nothing he says will save him in this. He'd be right about that.

"Do me a favour, if you’re just going to treat me like a ditz, don’t talk to me again. I’m already forced to deal with enough guys like you on the daily, so go bother someone else.”

As if called by some higher being, the cab, along with the girls you were supposed to meet, arrive outside. You gave Steve no time to respond, instead offering him a cold shoulder and some time to let all of that sink in. Though you doubt your words are going to make him change that attitude any time soon.

He leans against the wall outside, watching the dark car you got in drive by and away into the nightly city. He’s not sure what to do with what’s just been given to him.

No woman has ever figured him out this early on. Or maybe they have, and they just never told him this outright. It’s not like he tries to hide the type of person that he is, it’s just that it usually never blows up in his face this much. You’ve taken his flirting, turned it around and served it right back at him to make him think it all over. You‘ve practically rendered him speechless, and it’s only your first time meeting.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

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