Okay modern day Billy is a tiktoker who makes thirst dance and silly acting challenges on tiktok. And has like 25 million followers.
And Steve is an indie movie actor who wants to be a director actually but nobody gives him a chance.
This two chosen as stars for a new Netflix gay movie. This is a big opportunity for Steve cause he can use that money for directing. But he fucking hates tiktokers. Especially Billy because he doesn't know how to act. He doesn't know the real straggles of being an actor without the connections, he was only there because he shakes his ass on tiktok. Also because that dumb blonde bitch is so fucking hot and it makes Steve's brain stop everytime he looked at that ass.
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Summary: Steve Rogers was the ultimate golden boy, the actor was called a gentleman by some and too strict by others. On the contrary, you were the rebellious rock singer whose career was falling apart and needed an urgent fixing in your life.
Pairing: actor!steve rogers x f!singer!reader
Series Warnings: +18 (MDNI), fake dating, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, mature themes, mention of drugs, soft!steve, brat!reader, language. | More warnings will be added as the story progresses. Please, be aware.
Words: 1.5K+
A/N: This is the first thing i wrote after years and also the first time i wrote something in english, please be nice about it!! This fic was inspired by @bucksfucks’s “faking it” which i love <3 i hope whoever reads this, enjoys it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.
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Observing your own form in the mirror reflection, you saw a foggy figure as a result of your tears, which stained your cheeks shamelessly. Your panting started to quiet down and your senses came back into you. You were sitting down on your legs, on your bedroom floor with your phone in your hands, open with a TMZ article displaying a set of private photos from your last night partying, with random men whilst your body was almost naked.
Your public image was descending in front of your eyes and you didn’t know what to do anymore. The articles were getting lousier each day that passed, but you couldn’t help but live the life you had. The parties, drugs and alcohol were too good to be turned down, even though the people around were too obnoxious to be trusted.
“You’re gonna get up and fix your shitty mess from ruining your career or you’re going to stay there, on the floor, crying a river?” Natasha, your best friend since the beginning of your career and your agent, leaning on your doorway arched an eyebrow as she waited for your next move.
You looked up in guilt and remorse for your previous behaviors but sorrow remained in your eyes. Natasha knew that you were done with that routine, and you’re terrified of the following consequences, which consists in your record label threatening your million-dollar contract to be over way earlier than the deal, leaving you with a million-dollar debt.
Rubbed your humid face struggling to dry it up, due to your unstopping tears. “I hate crying.” You mumbled, sniffing your tears away.
“You know that I will always support you crying because you kinda need to, but this is not the right time to do so, honey. I’m sorry.” Natasha gazed with an apologizing look on her face, she felt upset for being so rough and plain about her best friend's feelings, but that’s what her job demands of her at that moment, and she couldn’t let it down.
“I know, Nat. S’fine.” Your legs trembled as you got up from the floor, and shift your body to the top of your big silky bed, not looking much to Nat but you could feel her eyes following your body. You sensed that her heart was aching and hurting for you and you didn’t like to put the people you love in this type of position.
“You know is not fine, we need to fix all of this.” Nat says as she sits beside you in your bed. You start cracking your finger joints from anxiousness, as the feeling of being impotent and defenseless rises up in your chest even more.
“My bad reputation is too far up in the press, Nat. They’re going to break up the contract, they warned me. But I'm fucking stupid to listen.” You rumbled, shaking your head believing you’re done for in Hollywood.
“There’s one thing you promised you would never do, but it’s time.” Nat grinned hopeful you would accept it.
You promised yourself you would never be in a relationship where you don’t sincerely like the person, especially for press and looks. You believed your whole purpose in the music industry was to be authentic and the most real possible, because it reflected and affected your actual music.
“Nop” You projected the “p”. “Absolutely not, I can’t do a PR stunt, you know I’m a terrible liar. If I hate the person it’s gonna show on my face the whole time and...”
“That’s your last chance, Y/N.” Nat interrupted you with a serious glare. “We need to do this. We need to try.”
With eyes unfocused and staring at the walls, you took a couple of minutes to think about the situation you were about to face.
Taking the deepest breath you ever took, you eyed her. “I’m down, Nat. But I beg you, don’t put me with a boring bland vanilla ass boy” With supplicating eyes, you pleaded.
“Oh, you’re going to hate who I choose then.” Nat smirked mischievously, and you pouted. “Come on, is going to be fun. I promise.”
Growling into your pillow, you replied. “You’re lucky I like you, redhead.”
---
Steve entered the white and icy-looking office, with his agent (and best friend) Sam by his side and Natasha guiding the both of them to sit in from of her glassy desk.
“So, I would like to start this conversation by thanking the both of you for agreeing to do a meeting so promptly and early in the week.” Natasha set down in her chair, with a sincere grin on her lips.
“The email came in a good time actually, so we appreciate it that you thought about Steve in this... situation.” Sam initiated the talking, trying to carry through the topic as lighter as he could. “If you let me ask so, where is your client?”
Natasha stiffed up, correcting her posture. “She is coming, I’m sorry that she is a little bit late.” She grinned apologetically at the men.
“I’m excited to meet her, I don’t think we ever met.” Steve finally said something. He felt fidgety and uneasy since Sam received the email from Natasha proposing a PR Stunt, between him and you.
He knew who you were and heard all the gossip that ran around Los Angeles streets, about how much bold, shameless and cocky you could be in your nights out. Steve thought you were overly pretty, had an incredible voice and your stage presence was to die for, but believed your lifestyle wasn’t for him to duplicate.
Steve was, in fact, a sweet man, extremely gentle and soft-spoken. His parents raised him to be out of trouble at all times, shaping him to be a gentleman and very so often a naïve person, oblivious from some malicious situations. He didn’t smoke and only drank on special occasions and some of his coworkers thought he was too uptight for a Hollywood star, that he was. He was truly uncorrupted from the harsh part of fame.
“I’m sure she will be... startled to see you.” Nat’s uncertain tone kept unnoticed by Steve but was perceived by Sam who arched his eyebrow in doubt.
“Nat, I swear to god why the fuck am I here so fucking early, I was...” You stopped midway through the sentence, widening your eyes trying to recognize the two strange men that stared at you.
Steve traced his eyes from your feet to your face, almost causing you to shiver with such tension that his blue eyes held. Never breaking eye contact, Steve got up walking towards you outstretching his hand.
You swore that the both of you lingered at the moment for what felt like hours, but you finally said something breaking the spell. “Hi...” You waited for his name.
The presentiment remained in your mind that you already saw the blond man before, but couldn’t recall from where.
“I’m Steve, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” He gripped your hand gently but firmly and you examine the bigger hand around yours, sucking in a breath.
“A pleasure, uh?” Coming back to your senses, you chuckled.
His head tilted to the side and he frowned in confusion. He pulled back his hand, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Hm... what?” He slightly shook his head.
You said your name to him, and promptly look over to Natasha. “Is he the one?” You raised your eyebrows, talking about him as he wasn’t by your exact side.
Natasha took a deep breath, briefly rubbing her face in annoyance, preparing herself for whatever situation you were about to put her in. “This is Steve Rogers, he is an incredible actor and this is his agent, Sam Wilson.”
A smile plastered in Steve’s face, accepting the compliment, while Sam was doubtful about your character, yet.
“Let’s get this shit over with.” You strolled to the chair beside Steve’s, laying back with a sagged body completely relaxed.
A concerning look was plastered on Sam’s face, as he bluntly stared at you for your unprofessional behavior.
“Let’s do it!” A giggly Steve clapped his hands and set down beside you, unfazed by your attempt to make him uncomfortable.
So I am letting the muses carry me and writing something where Actor!Steve decides to go to college later in life to prove something to himself and rooms with Medical!Student Billy. It started with one line, “Just because you play a doctor on TV doesn’t mean I’m going to let you stick your fingers in my body Harrington.” And it’s just sort of growing wings. :) I don’t know why but this opening had me in stitches.
Dr. Joe died in a puddle of his own blood. It wasn’t the deadly virus he’d contracted doing emergency surgery in an elevator that got him in the end. It was the vengeful ex-girlfriend who’d shot him for going back to the wife he’d left for her. When Steve had given in to what his manager Frank was calling his ‘pre-midlife’ crisis, and decided to break his contract in order to return to school, he’d known there was going to be some mixed feelings about writing him off the show.
Still, he’d expected something along the lines of Dr. Joe making a hastily justified transfer to another hospital, discovering a sudden desire to treat orphans in Africa, or something. Anything that wasn’t so final.
Even he didn’t need help reading between those lines. You’re an idiot Harrington. Not the first time he’s heard that opinion and probably not the last. But, it’s the first time he’s decided not to agree. Or at least act like it. He was burning a bridge here, leaving a paying acting gig to pay a university a ludicrous amount of money to teach him acting. He definitely still felt like an idiot, but he figured after so many years the only way he was going to stop believing he couldn’t do it was just to do it. Steve Harrington was going to college to get a degree. Just because he can.
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Stony Celebrity AU! No powers AU, Tony Stark is still himself for how he was before he became Iron Man and Steve is his gorgeous play actor BF who he watches for every opening night and every event together, especially Tony's galas.
Made for @tonystarkbingo adopted square, 'AU: Celebrity'
thinking of my stupid idiots (actor!steve and rockstar gf) and how during cherry-chella, for weekend one she def ropes in Eddie as her special guest for a cover of “American Woman” and he does that lil’ grunt at the opening of the song
Watching the Emmy’s and I thought of your actor Steve and that cutie pie taking you as his date and checking on in you all night to make sure you’re okay😩😩
Oh baby, absolutely— you got it in one!
It’s the red carpet that’s the worst, all those flash bulbs and people calling your name asking when the next album will be, when’s the wedding, and could you turn a little to the left while you’re at it?
The old song and dance the heralds the beginning of the next six months of your life. Dinner invites and parties to swan through all on Steve’s arm. You know he dreads it, so you put on a brave face and soldier through.
Besides, the headlines are nowhere near as unsettling as the thinly veiled Deuxfaux blinds that circle you and Steve during awards season like sharks scenting blood in the water.
Except this year, unlike the last, Steve isn’t there to prop you up and let you whisper salacious and ridiculous things into his ear as the flashbulbs burst like so many dying stars.
And you’re just fine with that, as you smile and preen on the press line. You maneuver down the carpet with a deftness your publicist would beam at, calling reporters by name and batting your eyes for the cameras.
A sigh falls from your lips as you spy a familiar head of hair at the entrance of the carpet. He catches your eye with a secret smile, that luscious mouth you used to kiss stupid on the regular. Lips that would tickle the shell of your ear, breath hot on the nape of your neck, chest heaving as sweat-slicked hair brushed the smooth expanse of your back, and he thrust into the tight wet heat between your legs.
But that was then.
For now, you nod back demurely in reply, turning as your assistant guides you down the steps and into the theater. Resisting the urge to glare back at your big dumb and irritatingly distracting ex— well, boyfriend seems so much less than what he was.
Steve, Steve, Steve, the at one time glorious possibility of forever.
