I'm Nina, and welcome to the girliest corner of the internet ! Do you have daddy issues ? Do you love the colour pink ? You're in the right place then babe ! I'm a film student with an imagination way too big for my small head and this Tumblr is my niche artistic glittery canvas. Oh, and also, English isn’t my first language, it’s my third !
ʚ⁺˖↪ Nina's Requesting Rules ♡‧˚.ᐟ
ʚ⁺˖↪ See What You Read (Pinterest) ˚₊✩‧
ʚ⁺˖↪ Wanna know when your favs get an update ? ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ᡣ𐭩⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
At Your Mercy, Commodus x Reader | Gladiator, Ao3
I'm your Little Baby Doll, you're my Mr. Rock n' Roll, Cliff Booth x Reader | OUATIH, Ao3 and Tumblr
Luce Della Mia Vita, Furio Giunta x Reader | The Sopranos, Ao3
Quando Sono in Ginocchio, Prego per te, Goffredo Tedesco x Reader | Conclave, Coming Soon
Ben 'Soldier Boy' Hargrove x Reader | The Boys, Individual Masterlist
You'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you
Ben could spot an unsatisfied woman a mile away
Nina's Remarks : Mind you I used to be a diehard Homelander stan. [4.2k]
tw : homelander, language, pr relationship, mentioned lactation, cheating, smut written by a virgin + first time writing smut (MDNI), fingering, PinV
Life was all about appearances. Or at least it was for you. The most famous woman in America. You hadn't gotten your spot because you were particularly interesting or some kind of one-in-a-million genius, you were where you were because you fit a list of criteria.
You were between the ages of 20 and 25, you were not a previously known supe, you had no criminal record, you were healthy and you were fertile. Homelander had chosen you out of the hundreds if not thousands of headshots he examined for days.
The day you signed your name on that marriage license, you made your choice. Be the trophy wife of the most dangerous man in the nation, in exchange of fame and luxuries you never could've dreamed of before.
Your life seemed picturesque, a page taken straight out of a magazine. Maybe it was that way, just not for you. You were on Vogue, you were invited everywhere, people would kill simply to get an interview with you.
All that, because of a rock on your finger. A symbol of the man responsible of you. Homelander, or John as he insisted you called him.
When you first met him, it was obvious to you that John was not like other men, not only on account of his powers. He was possessive, treating you like a very well-behaved pet rather than an actual person. But it seemed you had it better than most when it came to him. Along with Sister Sage, you were the only person he was somehow at ease with, happy even.
You made sure to always keep him pleased, you'd seen the way he'd rip people in half with his bare hands or burn their skulls with his lasers. You learned to control your heart rate around him, to make sure he never doubted your loyalties.
With no warning from John, he announced a new person would be joining your dysfunctional family unit, so two would become three. Or at least that's what John wanted and he rarely didn't get his way.
You were sitting at your seat in the Seven's conference room on the left of Homelander's at the head of the oddly-shaped table. Your legs were crossed and you were leaning your head on your knuckles as you scrolled through your social media, looking at what people were saying about you today. It had become a daily ritual of yours.
It was mostly positive, except for the occasional 'she's reinforcing traditional gender roles !' here and the 'why is a woman taking so much space at Vought ?' there. The idea of society unanimously agreeing on anything at all was impossible.
You looked up as you heard two sets of footsteps approaching you. One you recognized all too well and one was foreign to your ear. You looked up and saw John, as expected, and... Soldier Boy ?
"Father, I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Victory." Homelander said gesturing towards you. You almost cringed at the sound of your supe name, but you managed to hide it.
You immediately stood up and extended your hand for Soldier Boy to take. "Please, call me Y/N." You said with a warm smile.
"Alright, you can call me Ben." He said with a smirk. He shook your hand at a slow pace and held it for a second too long, which Homelander obviously noticed.
You pulled your hand away. "It's an honour to meet a true patriot like yourself, sir. Especially John's father."
"John's father." He repeated and looked back at his son. He'd just learned Homelander's legal name. "How'd you manage to land this one ?"
John mumbled something about that not being relevant. You wondered, if asked again, should you give your relationship's PR story or the truth to your father-in-law ?
There was a short moment of silence. Ben made no effort to hide the way he was staring at you. It wasn't entirely his fault, seeing as your costume's primary objective was to have as many eyes on you at all times by showcasing as much skin as possible.
You just kept a welcoming smile on your face. Unlike your teammates on the Seven, or any supes for that matter, the act never ended for you. Most supes have two personalities, the one for when the cameras were rolling and the one for when they weren't. But for you, the cameras never turned off. Your whole life since you met John had been a big performance to ensure you would live to see the next day.
Homelander never wanted to see you angry or unhappy, you needed to be there for him with an almost cheerleader-like attitude constantly. You needed to stand at his side in front of the public, never disagreeing with him, no matter what unhinged thing he said. You needed to be there when he needed to release his frustrations, ready for fucking and taking it like a champ with an Oscar worthy performance every time.
"Soldier Boy will be on the Seven starting today." John said as he sat down on his chair. "As my right hand."
For the duration of the meeting, Soldier Boy sat in front of you, sneaking glances whenever he thought you wouldn't notice. But you did notice, you were trained to. But under watchful eyes, you made sure your attention was only ever focused on one man, your husband.
Today was a media day, interviews, photoshoots and announcements. It started with Soldier Boy being given a medal by the vice-president, ex-Vought CEO, Ashley Barrett. The cameras flashed without stop as you stood behind the two, Homelander by your side, as always.
After Ashley's speech came to an end, the most important part of any political ceremony began, pictures. It started with Ashley shaking Soldier Boy's hand, then Homelander and Soldier Boy standing next to each other. "Y/N." John called your name as he gestured for you to come over, you didn't waste a second before joining the duo.
You stood beside your husband, but before any shutters could click, one of the photographers spoke out. "Victory, move to the middle !"
You complied, not thinking much of it. John moved over to give you some space. He stood tall, as always, his hands placed behind his back. You smiled for the cameras, your usual media trained-smile. The one that had become like a second resting face to you.
You felt a hand creep up on the small of your back. It should've been the most ordinary thing, only this hand wasn't wearing a glove, or at least not one covering the fingertips like you were used to.
You glanced to your left quickly. Ben.
He kept his gaze aimed at the people in front of him, not acknowledging his own action. The random grabbing was only the start of it.
Later on during the day you were booked with Homelander and Soldier Boy for an issue of a Vought-controlled magazine to really sell the image of this great American dynasty that you now were.
John was sitting down on a chair, Ben stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder as if he were a proud father, and you were on the ground, your head leaned on John's leg.
You stayed still for as long as they asked, not moving by an inch. Every bend in your body, every part of you being shown and every angle had been carefully arranged by a choreographer. No mistakes allowed.
Although you couldn't turn around to confirm it, you felt the weight of Soldier Boy's gaze on you whenever the camera was off.
"Okay, let's move on to the next one !" The photography director yelled, but before anyone on set could move from their positions, John stopped them.
"Hold it. Let me see and I'll decide when we're done."
The crew all looked at each other, fear starting to settle in their hearts. Unsurprisingly, they all complied, too afraid to stand up to your husband.
You lifted your head from John's lap to allow him to get up. Before going to see the photos, he softly placed a hand on the top of your head and said, "You're doing good."
You heard a low chuckle behind you. "What are you, his fuckin' dog ?" You finally allowed yourself to look at him. He looked down at you, considering you were still on your knees. "Don't worry, I'm the last person to kink shame."
"I'm not a dog, John's just letting me know he... appreciates the way I'm acting." Your own logic was starting to confuse you.
"That's okay sweetheart, I think that just makes me like you more." He whispered as Homelander came back.
You took a few more pictures in this setting and then came the duo pictures. When you were finally paired with Soldier Boy, you wondered why John was even allowing this.
Ben stood straight, his back facing the camera, and you were leaning your elbow on his shoulder. Halfway through, the director announced he wanted to try something different, something bold, or at least for you.
They placed a stool in front of you. As you were being given instructions, you began climbing. Instinctively, you used Soldier Boy's shoulder to help lift yourself up. It was difficult to do so in your heels, and once you almost reached the top, you missed the last step, causing you to fall back.
A quick whimper escaped you, but before you could even start falling, a hand had placed itself on your hip, steadying you. "Careful doll, I ain't always here to catch you."
"I don't need you catching me all the time." You awkwardly laughed, trying to brush off the interaction. You both got in position as the director instructed, Ben still looking away from the camera and you looking down at the top of his head from your stool.
The set went silent, the only noise filling the room being the camera clicking. Suddenly, you heard the sound of fabric stretching, you knew exactly what that was. It was low, low enough that anyone without powers wouldn't have known. Your gaze shifted to meet his eyes. A huge smirk painted his face as he looked down then towards you.
You prayed silently that John was too distracted in that moment to notice what had transpired. To say this was the strangest interaction you'd had with Soldier Boy was an understatement, worse was yet to come.
Interviewers then came to get material for their articles. Ben was obviously the one with no PR training in the group as when asked about you he said you were a 'real class act, if she wasn't married I'd've snatched her for myself. Not that that's ever stopped me before.'
The odd interactions between you two just started from there on out. Any time a picture was being taken, Ben was always next to you. When talking about Homelander, the only thing he would praise his son about was his choice of wife. And of course, many, many stares.
After another draining day, you were sitting on the white marble floor of your shower, holding your knees close to your chest and letting the burning hot water fall on your skin without a care in the world. Moments like these were one of the rare times you were truly by yourself. Homelander thankfully didn't care to be present for your bi-weekly everything shower.
You'd actually finished your routine ten minutes prior, the smell of your sugary vanilla products still lingering in the air. The sound of the water hitting the tiles created this calming atmosphere, silencing all your worries and problems.
Unbeknownst to you, Soldier Boy had just let himself into yours and Homelander's apartment. Call it father's intuition or just being a creep, even he wasn't sure what he was looking for. He quickly took in the Americana themed living room, which he thought was the tackiest thing he'd seen in a long time, before making a beeline straight to the bedroom.
He looked at the images that adorned the walls around him, dozens of Vought-approved photoshoots of yourself and your husband in all sorts of settings to make it seem like your relationship was healthy and normal. There wasn't a single frame where you weren't smiling, but Ben knew it was disingenuous. You could fool everyone but not him, no one could fool him when it came to women.
He noticed a fresh pile of clothes neatly folded on the red, white and blue duvet. At the top of it was a little pair of pink underwear. Ben looked to his left, then his right, as if to check if anyone was looking at him, and shoved the fabric in his pocket.
He moved towards the first of two nightstands on either sides of the bed. He opened it to find a pile of magazines, mostly of Homelander and a few of you.
At the bottom of the drawer was a magazine with the words 'Cancelled project' stamped in red ink over the cover. Ben decided to have a peek inside, and boy was he glad he did. You, the girl he'd been eyeing for a little over two weeks, with close to nothing on in poses that would make a pornstar blush.
Soldier Boy chuckled as he quickly turned the pages but his amusement ended once he noticed that some of them were wrinkly and stuck together. He instinctively let go of the magazine, letting it fall to the floor, a disgusted look on his face clear as day.
He moved on to the second nightstand. This one was more typical, a bottle of pills, a pair of glasses and various skincare products. It wasn't hard to deduct whose nightstand was whose. He lifted the small orange bottle to read what was written on its label, 'Lactoxene - Gillman, Y/N'.
At that moment, you walked out of the adjacent bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around your wet body. The second your eyes landed on the man, you froze and gripped the fabric shielding you from him tighter. Your usual smile appeared back on your face almost automatically. "Soldier Boy ! What are you doing here ?" Although you tried to hide it, the surprise in your voice was impossible to mask.
"What's Lactoxene ?" He said with a smirk as he showed you what was in his hand.
For once in your life, you couldn't think of an immediate response. Your eyes went wide, what were you supposed to say to that ? "It's Vought prototype medication." You answered, staying vague enough, or so you thought.
"Depraved little bastard. What kind of fucking sicko is into that ?" Soldier Boy huffed, almost holding back a laugh. "So you're... Right now ?" You didn't even have to answer, he already knew by your avoidant demeanour. "Well he definitely didn't get that from me."
"You shouldn't be here." You simply stated.
"Why not ?"
Your gaze kept shifting between Soldier Boy and the bedroom door, scared someone would walk in. "John could come back at any moment."
"Ah, scared your husband's gonna catch you with his daddy ?" Soldier Boy slowly walked towards you. "Trust me sugar, he ain't gonna find out."
For every step forward he took, you took a step back, until you reached the bedroom wall. "'Ts really a shame a pretty thing like you is stuck with a pussy like him. What you need, is a real man."
"John is a real man." You said, not hesitating to come to your husband's defence, but was it out of love or habit ?
Ben finally reached you, he placed his arms on the wall, blocking you in front of him. You could've pushed him, you were a supe after all, but you didn't, you let him stay.
"Really ? How often does he get you to finish ?"
Your eyes widen at his question. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong, you couldn't. He examined your face closely as he waited for his answer. He could almost see the cogs turning in your head.
"... He never has."
"Well, that tells me everything I need to know." He brushed away some hair that was in front of your face. "Let me give you what you need." He said in the gentlest tone you'd ever heard from him. And with that simple phrase, something in you changed.
You looked at the wedding band you'd taken off for your shower that was sitting on your nightstand. The diamond on it could probably rival a small city's GDP. The sun clashed with it and made it sparkle in all the right ways. But that wasn't important, not now.
Before Ben could make the first move, you grabbed the sides of his face roughly and crashed your lips on his. Even he was taken aback by your initiative, but he sure wasn't complaining.
Years of repressed sexual dissatisfaction all coming out onto one man. One man you shouldn't be with.
His hands moved away from the wall and instead placed themselves around your back, bringing you closer to him. Your noses hit each other due to the sheer intensity of the act.
He lifted you up from the floor and threw you on the bed. You whined almost instinctively due to the sudden loss of contact. "Take it off, let me see what I'm workin' with." He instructed as he began removing his own armour.
You tugged at the tucked-in pieces of the towel that were keeping it in place, and once his uniform's chest plate hit the ground, so did the fabric separating you from his gaze.
He let out a small whistle. "Honey, with a body like that it's mind-blowing that Homelander ain't pouncing on you every chance he gets. What a waste."
You were sitting on your knees as you watched Ben undress. You caught yourself comparing him to John. You knew Vought padded his Homelander suit, but you remember the first time you saw what was underneath and you couldn't believe how truly scrawny he really was.
In comparison, Soldier Boy was pure muscle. Even without the V1 he would've been stronger than most. And he was big where it mattered, much bigger than his successor. In that moment it felt like the roles were reversed, now you were the one ogling him with no shame.
Once he was finally done, he quickly approached you, and out of instinct you leaned forward, as if it would bring him to you faster.
"Eager aren't we ?" He said as he grabbed your chin with his index and thumb, moving it along your cheek slightly.
"Can you really blame me ?" You opened your mouth and took his finger in. What were you doing ? You had never done anything like this before. It was like you'd been replaced by a wild animal in heat.
Ben began pushing you into lying down, following along with you. It wasn't long until your mouths were connected again. He began tracing his fingers on your skin, progressively bringing them lower and lower until they reached their wanted destination.
He started rubbing slow circles on your clit and you let out a sigh you didn't even know you had in you. Considering his slow pace, you began bucking your hips in hopes of creating more friction. You felt two of his fingers carefully entering you. "Oh !" You said as you slightly pulled away from his mouth.
"What ?" He simply answered as he began increasing the speed of his touching and moving his digits in and out of you.
"Joh... Homelander's never..." Your speech was hindered by all your laboured breathing due to the new sensation. "... Done this to me... Before."
"What does he do to you ?" Ben began slowing down.
"I-it never lasts long... Usually missionary... He sucks on m-my tits. He makes... He makes me s-suck him off under his d-desk sometimes... And that's it.."
"And he's never made you come. That's pathetic. Truly." He said as he removed his fingers from you, leaving you on edge. "Good thing I'm here. What you need..."
He sat himself up and moved away from you, towards the top of the comically-large bed leaving you alone at the end of it. "...Is a real fuck." He leaned his back on the headboard as he extended out his arms. "C'mere."
You got on all fours and crawled towards him, making it a painfully agonizing display for you and him, pushing back the time of your release. Once you reached him you stalled, unsure what to do next. You lowered your head towards his manhood, as you assumed it was your turn to give back. But before you could get far, he brought you back up.
"This ain't about me." You looked at him almost in amazement. John had never cared about anything other than his own dick. But now, it was all for you. Out of everyone you knew, you were quite surprised at how caring Ben actually was.
He brought you closer to him and began leaving kisses all over your skin. On your neck, your chest, your arms. In between ministrations, he began talking. "Look at you, poor girl. Never satisfied and stuck with an ungrateful man. But you don't need to worry anymore, 'cause Ben's gonna take care of you."
You felt him lifting you up by your hips delicately and placing you where he wanted. He lined you up and let you take the lead, a first for you. You slowly sunk down on him. It stung, as if it were your first time.
It took you a moment to really settle, but once he was all in, you felt full. Your breathing became heavy as you slowly started to move up, then down. You began gaining speed in your movement, and the more you did, the more you realized there was a whole world you were missing out on because of John.
Ben laughed loudly as he caressed your breast. "Goddamn this might just be one of the best I've had."
The room was filled with the sound of moans, grunts and skin slapping, without a care in the world for who could potentially find you both in this compromising position.
You wrapped your arms around his neck to stabilize your body and you wondered how you were still standing. Ben thrusted his hips beneath you to really accentuate his own pleasure. You pushed yourself harder on him, you were sure if you had the ability to bruise, you'd be all blue by now.
The level of ecstasy you were feeling was unmatched to anything you'd ever lived before. There were tears in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall from the sheer bliss of it all.
You could feel the crashing wave of satisfaction slowly creeping in. You leaned your head in the crook of his neck and he whispered, "You're takin' all of me so well. You're so greedy after bein' deprived from this for so long, ain't you ?"
"Mm-hm." Was all you could mutter back in response.
You were both close, you could sense it. So he kept talking. "Next time you're with him, next time he fucks you, all you'll be able to think about is my cock."
Your moans got higher and louder as you felt your orgasm fall upon you. You almost went limp in his arms, but he kept pushing, chasing his own high. You felt his release in you, the come even leaking out of you. He then fell back in exhaustion.
You might've been super-abided, but you both needed a minute to rest from all that. You laid down on his chest as you felt him wrap his arms around you.
"For a first time on top, I'd say you did pretty well." He said.
"I don't know how I can ever go back to just John after this." You chuckled.
You pulled yourself off his body and sat down next to him, feeling quite empty. You could feel the slow trickling of bodily fluids down your thighs. It was never like this with Homelander. Never.
Your bodies almost shimmered from the sweat you'd worked up. You looked around at the mess your usually tidy bedroom had become. You noticed the clothes Soldier Boy had left on the floor, more particularly a pocket in his pants, which a light pink fabric was protruding from.
"Are those my panties ? You're such a weirdo." You joked.
"Hey, you're drugging yourself so your man child of a husband can sucks milk from your tits because he didn't have a mama growing up."
"Touché. But you should be grateful, those pills made my girls grow three cups."
"Oh I'm grateful." He nodded in agreement. "Can you imagine if he walked in right now ? Seein' his sexy wife, full of come, in his own bed with his dad. And the press around it ? 'Homelander's wife stolen by father, Soldier Boy'."
"Woah, slow down, cowboy. Let's at least do this a few more times before we get there."
"'Right, wanna get started on round two then ?"
Wanna know when the next one comes out ? Join Nina's Partners in Crime today !
Partners in Crime (Taglist) : @3ricaa @bofadeezs @livisthebestinthemfworld @omnya61
Wanna know when your favourite character gets a new juicy fanfiction ? Wanna be part of the coolest clique in town ? Sign up and become a partner in crime today !
Although I do see everything in my inbox, I cannot write everything. I write what comes to mind when given the right inspiration. If I don't answer your request, please do not take it to heart as it is in no means my intention. Please always respect your local writers and remember we (shockingly) have lives outside Tumblr too !
OFF LIMITS (things I will not write about under any circumstances) :
incest, cheating (in which the main character is the person being cheated on), teacher/student dynamics, older woman/younger man, unnecessary gore, male!reader, SA, underage characters, real person fiction, mafiaAU
💭 Current Catalogue
I. The Boys Universe (2019-) II. Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood (2019)
Mandatory Safety Warning ⋆˚꩜.ᐟ Unless mentioned in the TW of the individual work, all my projects are SFW. Don't like what you're seeing ? Don't read it !
For your Consideration ... ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ › I have my limitations as a writer due to my lived experience, but I do try to cater to everyone considering I write reader-centred stories. Please give me grace and if you see a way in which I could improve do let me know. I try to update as much as I can, but writer's block is a tough little bug. Although it might be a tough pill to swallow, I write for myself first and foremost and cannot force myself to write stories I don't want to. It is never meant to invalidate your ideas, but rather not to disappoint.
Nina's Remarks : Thought about this the night before the S5 premiere. [4.4k]
tw : pregnancy, allusions to sex, birth, language, slight ooc, homelander is ben and reader's son
Homelander had been doomed from his childhood. The sterile environment doctors and nurses provided him growing up shaped him into the person he was today. Even he, in his deranged state, knew it was no place for a kid to be. He never stood a chance, who could blame him for how he turned out ?
But now, in front of him, laid the answer to all his questions, his father. Soldier Boy. Or Benjamin Hargrove, as he'd come to learn. His mind still had yet to fully comprehend that Soldier Boy was indeed his dad. His whole life he had idolized the man, and when he finally met him, his dreams were brutally crushed.
Soldier Boy suddenly began to stir before opening his eyes for the first time in years. His vision was blurred for a few seconds as he tried looking around to assess where he was. He used his hands to stand himself up, part of his body still feeling too numb to move.
He caught his breath as if he'd been running a marathon. He was on edge, unaware of where he was and what had happened since the last time he was conscious. His gaze finally met the only other person in the room, Homelander. "You, what the fuck ?" He said, his voice coarse from the lack of use of his vocal cords over his time asleep.
He tried getting up, ready to fight if needed, but his legs could not keep him standing. "You were on ice for two years at a CIA black site, but you're safe here. We found you this morning during a raid."
Ben was about to make a crude joke, but decided to hold his tongue for once. He looked at the man walking towards him. He noticed his son's nose, it reminded him of someone. Someone he hadn't seen in a very long time.
As Homelander explained to Ben his plan to catch William Butcher, Soldier Boy couldn't help but be unfocused. Everything reminded him of her. Even Homelander's mannerisms seemed to be inherited from a woman he'd never met.
He was cut from his thoughts by Homelander. "Hey, are you even listening ?"
"You're so much like her." Soldier Boy simply mumbled, having no interest in their previous conversation. A small smile appeared on his face, it shocked Homelander, he'd never seen his father express any emotion other than frustration towards him. Ben saw the confusion on his son's face. "Your mother." He said, his usual annoyed tone coming right back.
Homelander's face dropped, his serious demeanour disappeared and his voice was no longer sure of itself. "My mother ? How could you have known her ? She was a random runaway Vought found."
Soldier Boy huffed. "Is that what they told you ?" He said, as though it was the worst thing Vought had ever done. "Your mother was Starspangle."
Homelander knew who she was. She'd been a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's recent wife at the time of his disappearance. Why had he never thought of this ?
"But her name was Y/N. She hated that bullshit alias Vought stuck on her." Homelander sat down next to his father, as he took in the news. He remembered seeing her in films and books, how blind he had been. "I still remember the day she told me about you. She was terrified, but not because of what would happen to her. She was afraid of what would await you."
You bit your lip as you tried to hold back your tears. Positive. Fucking positive.
You didn't know whether to be thrilled or scared. A supe baby ? Vought was a morally corrupt company and unfortunately, they quite literally owned your body. What would they do if they got their hands on a naturally born super-abled child ?
You threw the test away and quickly wiped your eyes, hoping your cries weren't visible. You stormed out of the washroom, fearful for what was about to come for you and your baby.
As you walked through Vought Tower, you kept your head down. The last thing you needed now was to be seen in this state. And obviously today you were out of luck, as when you turned into the next hallway, you ran into someone's chest.
You felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders to stabilize you. "You alright, sweetheart ?" Soldier Boy. Ben. Your husband.
Your relationship had an uncommon start. Vought brought you in to strengthen Ben's appearance as America's golden son. You met in late 1970s, and back then nothing was more patriotic than being a married man with three kids. Luckily for you, as your partnership went on, this fake relationship you'd put up for the public, slowly became real.
Ben before and after you, were like to separate entities, at least to you. Before he officially met you, he had the reputation for being quite the womanizer, or in other words, a man whore.
But once Vought made him sign papers stipulating that he could not be seen in public with any other women, he calmed down a little. He had no plans to stay loyal at first, after all what was the use of it to him ? He was famous, might as well use his influence to get some action.
But after spending so much time with you, he made a realization. He didn't need a hundred women, not when he had one who not only satisfied all his needs, but he felt good being around. You weren't there for his money or his fame, you had your own, and you certainly weren't there to brag about sleeping with him, you had no need for that.
He looked down at you with real concern in his eyes, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide this from him. You pulled him into the nearest empty room. You looked around to make sure there were no cameras, and confessed your truth.
"I'm pregnant." You simply stated.
Ben's eyes went wide, almost with a sense of relief. "I was startin' to think I was shooting blanks, especially considering we're at it like rabbits." He joked, unsurprisingly, as he wrapped his arms around your frame and brought you close to him. "This is great news baby."
As much as you truly wanted with all your heart to share his excitement, you were unable to. Tears began dripping from your eyes and he pulled you away to look at your face. "What's wrong ?"
"I'm scared."
"There's nothin' to be scared about, you're not the first dame in history to push out a baby."
You gave him a slight chuckle before sharing your concerns. "I'm scared for the child. I don't want Vought involved in their life the way they are in mine. But at the same time, I'm greedy. I want this baby so badly, but I couldn't bear giving them my life. I don't want to give Vought another lab rat."
Ben knew you were right. Vought had never showed mercy to anyone, not even children, so why should yours be an exception ?
Homelander huffed. "She knew."
Ben wondered why he kept on talking, or why he was even talking in the first place. Homelander was the strangest person he'd ever met, and he had never felt the need to have a real conversation with his son. But in that moment, for reasons beyond him, he wanted to speak.
Maybe it was because his brain was still half-frozen, or maybe he just missed you and this was the closest he could get to you. Homelander was technically what was left of you available to him.
"She always knew." Soldier Boy said. "We planned to keep you a secret and run away. Back then, goin' off the grid wasn't too difficult. We were gonna raise you on a farm in Montana." Ben almost laughed at the thought, maybe then he could've raised his son to be a real man. "But that fucker Mindstorm and Countess ratted us out to Vought. And they were so damn happy."
You were sitting at your designated chair in the Payback conference room, reading over some files from Vought's latest report. As you turned a page, something was thrown in front of you. The test you'd taken earlier.
Your eyes went wide. You slid the test on the ground as quickly as possible to make sure no one else had seen it. You looked up to see who had tossed it your way. Crimson Countess.
She stood tall in front of you with her arms crossed, that spiteful expression on her face she only ever reserved for you. "You little whore. Not even a year married and you get yourself knocked up."
"What the fuck are you talking about ?" You said, on edge.
"Don't even bother playing dumb, that act may work on everyone else, but not on me. Mindstorm looked into your filthy mind and confirmed it all."
You knew she resented you. When she and Ben had broken up, for some reason you weren't aware of, Vought wasted no time trying to clean up their moneymaker's image. You were the perfect accessory, the girl America wanted.
You were younger, more willing to comply and exactly what Ben's public image needed. To say the concept of a friendship between you and Countess would've been difficult was an understatement.
"Countess-"
"Aren't you lucky ? Pumped full with his kid, isn't that the wet dream of every woman in this damn country ?"
Countess' relationship with her ex was an odd one. Although it was obvious to anyone with a working pair of eyes that she held a great deal of animosity towards the man, she still couldn't let him go. Not even after he'd moved on himself.
You tried to stay calm as you begged her not expose your secret. "Listen, please don't tell anyone about this."
"Why ? Are you afraid Vought's gonna have you kill the parasite or keep it ?" She chuckled.
The moment the words left her mouth, you were getting ready to jump up and attack her, but before you could, someone burst through the door. "Let me go !" It was Mindstorm, battered and bruised, his hands tied behind his back and a rag placed onto his eyes, being lifted off the ground by Ben.
"Ain't it weird that Vought employees are congratulatin' me when I walk by ?" Ben said as he threw his teammate at Countess' feet. "You bitter old cunt. Can't you get it through your thick skull that you're no longer hot shit at Vought ?"
Countess rolled her eyes, masking the way his insults did in fact hurt her. She paused, thinking about what to say next. "You're the last person on Earth who should be a father. We all know it."
Ben was not one to be affected by the way people insulted him, or at least not publicly, but you saw the shock that covered his face for a millisecond when Countess spoke.
You knew Ben had some unresolved problems regarding his father, and he had yet to tell you much about it, but it seemed Countess knew this was something to bring up in order to catch him off guard.
Suddenly Countess turned back towards you. "And you, how stupid do you have to be to let this happen. All your beauty and all your youth, down the drain for a man almost three times your age !"
Before Ben could interfere, you confronted your teammate yourself. "Sounds to me you're just frustrated because fifty years from now no one will remember your name."
"Like you're any different ? 'America's sweetheart' ? Your brand is built on your looks and your age, once that's gone they'll find you a replacement."
"Like they did you ? Jealousy is a disease Crimson." You said, specifically using the nickname you knew she hated the most.
You were surprised she didn't clap back, she simply walked away. She gave you a look as she slammed the door behind her, thinking to herself 'I hope that pest rips you apart'.
"What a bitch." Ben simply said.
You hummed in agreement as you joined him in the middle of the conference room. Too tired to speak, you placed your arms around his neck. He instinctively put his hands on your hips and tilted his head to make sure he was properly looking at you.
You brought his face closer to yours and softly placed your lips on his. His right hand moved from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you towards himself.
The advance slowly became more and more intense. Ben lifted you up and sat you down on the table, placing himself between your thighs.
The sound of your lips was interrupted by a shout and the door opening at the same time. Ben stopped his advances, but stayed where he was. He looked at Mindstorm then the Vought employee who had just walked in. "Everyone here is such a cockblock !" He said, genuinely annoyed.
The employee looked at the floor out of embarrassment as he spoke. "Starspangle is demanded in Mr Edgar's office."
"Noted." You said as he quickly ran out of the room.
"These fucking people..." Ben grumbled as he detached himself from you. "You better get to Edgar's before he sends more of his lackeys."
"Do you think it's about..." Ben simply nodded to confirm your fears.
You got off the desk and took a deep breath in to calm your nerves. Before you left, Ben grabbed your upper arm and gave you a look, silently saying 'stay strong'.
As he watched you go, he knew you would be alright. You were a strong woman, if you weren't you never would've made it in this world, supes were ruthless.
He looked back at Mindstorm, his hands on his hips. "Now what the hell am I gonna do with you, rat ?"
You walked into the offices of the newly appointed Vought CEO, Stan Edgar. The room was cold and devoid of any warmth. He got up from his chair and walked over to you to shake your hand before inviting you to sit down.
"I believe congratulations are in order." He said with a smile, but you could tell that he wasn't happy for you, he was happy for his company.
"Thank you." You said keeping up your act, too afraid to do anything other than to comply.
"Although, I do wish you would've informed me or one of my subordinates first."
You stopped yourself from scoffing. "I'm sorry, Mr Edgar. I was just so shocked by the news. This was truly something unexpected."
"This child will do great things for yours and Soldier Boy's rating. The public loves a perfect family." As you'd suspected, the only thing that truly mattered to Vought was money. Maybe for a slight second, you'd thought otherwise, but it was truly a foolish idea. "We will do a lot of publicity to make sure everyone in the country is aware of the good news."
You took a deep breath before asking the question that was burning your mind. "What will happen after the birth ?"
"Oh, well I don't have a definitive answer for you now, but I would venture to guess we'll give you and Soldier Boy that classic American family storyline. And once the child is of age, maybe they will take the mantle and lead Vought's next generation of heroes. Who knows ?"
You mentally sighed in relief. It could've been worse.
Oh boy, how things couldn't have gone more wrong.
Once you started to show, Vought shipped you and Ben to the top of their priorities list. Interviews, photoshoots, documentaries, the whole package. You were certain even people on the other end of the world who'd never heard your name knew you were expecting. Your face was on packaging for pre-natal vitamins and pregnancy tests, what a nightmare.
After a long day of keeping a perfect smile constantly on your face, you were exhausted. By the time you'd made it back to your appartement, you fell back on your bed. Ben was already there, lying to your left.
You slowly turned your head to the side to look at him. His hand reached towards your shoulder to grab the strap of your babydoll nightgown. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, teasing whether or not he would move it away.
He gave you those eyes you knew oh so well. You chuckled. "Not today. I've got no energy left."
He stood himself up using his elbows, and looked down at you. He sighed with a smirk. "Whoever said pregnant women were hornier is full of shit. I feel like I won't be gettin' lucky these next few months."
You huffed. "Well, this is the result of your actions, mister." You said, holding onto your stomach. "You put yourself in this position."
"Pretty sure if anyone was puttin' anyone in positions, it was me puttin' you places, darlin', and you enjoyed it." You gave a sarcastic laugh.
You suddenly felt something move in your abdomen. The baby, it was kicking. You lifted up the skirt of your dress and looked down. There it was, your skin moving up and down on its own, proof of the life in you.
You looked at Ben who seemed almost mesmerized by what he was seeing. He sighed and his demeanour slowly shifted as he softly placed a hand on your belly. "Kid ain't even here yet and I would burn the world down for him. Give him the life I didn't get."
"Him ?"
He looked back at you. "Trust me, I know."
"Well, I think he's lucky to have you."
After all these years of partying, Ben was ready to leave that life behind and focus on the present, on who really needed him. That little boy needed someone to take care of him, and Ben felt it was his responsibility to give him what he never got.
"After I woke up, the first time, I did my research. I wanted to know what had happened to her since I left for Operation Charly. She had to stay back 'cause she was 'bout nine months then. She didn't want me to leave that day, I shouldn't've."
Soldier Boy looked at Homelander, he had his face nestled between his hands and his eyes were fixed on the floor. He might've looked distracted, but in reality he had never been more focused in his life.
"Maybe if I didn't, you wouldn't have been... such a fuck up."
Maybe I could've loved you, he wanted to add. But he knew Homelander was erratic, and in his weakened state, he was in no mood to start a fight.
The morning after Ben left for Nicaragua, you started your day as normal. You ate, brushed your teeth, changed into your redesigned costume and made your way to the conference room of Vought Tower. But on your way there, you felt something slowly trickle down your leg.
"Fuck !" You yelled. What were the chances your water would break the moment your husband left the country ? You stayed calm despite your frustration and managed to make it to the infirmary.
You were accompanied by a team of almost twenty doctors for six hours, but the only person you needed there was nowhere to be found. You could see the almost fearful looks on their faces. What could they expect from this child ? This was a first.
During the last stretch, you were phasing in and out of consciousness, but you distinctively remember a member of Vought personnel, coming into the room to whisper something into the ear of the lead doctor.
Not long after that, you were injected with more sedatives. "He's been neutralized, let's move to plan B."
You could barely form a thought about what you were hearing. What was happening around you ?
Your confusion was broken by the sound of a baby's cries. Your heart stopped. "It's a boy." Said one of the nurses. Ben's bet had been right.
You tried to look at your son, but he was hidden by the people holding him. The only thing confirming his presence to you, was the noises he was making.
"Please, let me see him." You said, your voice slurred. Your pleas went ignored. You became more and more erratic, why couldn't you see him ? You tried catching your breath, but it felt like your lungs were blocked. "Please." Water began forming at your eyes.
The baby's cries became stronger and suddenly a burst of red light emitted from where he was. The nurse almost dropped him from shock. He'd burned a hole in the ceiling. He was super-abled.
When your mind came to that realization, you couldn't help but cry. What would they do to your boy ? What would they do to your innocent boy ?
You'd hoped he would have been born normal, so you could've run away. Raise him somewhere far from all this, in a normal house, without any powers or responsibilities. But from the moment your son was born, he was nothing but cattle to the world.
For a slight second, you thought about Ben. Where was he now ? Had someone told him the news that he was a father ? How had he reacted ? Was he disappointed he missed it ?
Through all your begging, the nurses and doctors seemed to refuse to let you see him. So you tried to get up, disregarding the pain your body was in. Out of all the combat you had been involved in, nothing compared to this.
You soon noticed that your wrists and ankles had sneakily been attached to the hospital bed. You tried to shake out of them using your strength, but you were too exhausted. All you could do was cry, as your screaming fell upon deaf ears.
You felt the bed you were on being rolled into the hallway. You were surrounded by personnel on all sides, making them the only thing you could see.
You felt something sting your lower arm, you didn't need to look to know they were injecting you with something they weren't supposed to. It burned your veins, worse than anything they'd ever given you before. You felt your heartbeat slowdown, your eyelids becoming heavy and your vision going black.
Homelander exhaled, flabbergasted by this new revelation. Everything was a lie. He could've lived the life he so badly wanted, but Vought ruined it for him. He was so shocked by everything he'd been told, his mind went blank. For that moment, he forgot all about Butcher or his plans to conquer the world. All that mattered now was the life he was robbed of for money.
"Now, whatever the fuck you've got planned, that's the last thing your mother would want you to do."
"How could you leave ?" Homelander asked as he got up, completely ignoring his father's previous advice. Soldier Boy scoffed. "Why would you fucking leave so close to her due date ? Surely you knew how close it was."
"I didn't have a fucking choice. A mission is a mission. And Soldier Boy was needed there. I didn't know I was gonna be sold out to the reds."
Homelander clenched his fists, his mind confused by everything, but he was unable to put his thoughts into words. He looked at his father one last time and stormed out.
He quickly made his way to the elevator, ignoring every person who passed by him. They were insignificant compared to what he was searching for.
"Homelander, I was thinking-" He heard The Deep say, but he just walked past him, as if no one had addressed him. He could hear his subordinate call for him, but his voice became more and more distant as he reached the elevator. He got in and was surrounded by Vought employees and low-level supes.
"Out." He simply said, and they did as he commanded out of fear. As the door closed in front of him, he clicked on the elevator's last button, designating the lowest floor of the Vought building, the archives.
When he walked out, he was surrounded by miles of shelves holding hundreds of boxes, each holding thousands of documents and Vought artifacts. He calmly walked towards the 'S' section of the floor. His eyes analyzed each label until he reached for the one he needed, 'Starspangle - Classified'.
He grabbed the box and immediately began reading through all the paperwork. It started with the beginning of your career, explaining where you came from, your family lineage, the first designs for your costume and branding. Then came your introduction to Payback and Soldier Boy, later on the plans for the two of you to have a relationship to calm his image.
Then Homelander stumbled on the files confirming everything. In summer 1980, you had gotten pregnant, without the intervention or approval of Vought. The company took the opportunity and ran with it, making the whole ordeal a publicity stunt. In spring of 1981, the same day Soldier Boy disappeared, you gave birth to a super-abled baby boy dubbed 'John'.
Homelander was shaking, from anger or sadness, he didn't know, but he kept reading. The document ends stating that you were neutralized that same day. The rest of the files in the box explain the conspiracy coverup to create a Mandela effect surrounding the fact that you were ever pregnant and announcing your death alongside Soldier Boy's.
The papers fell from Homelander's hands. He began losing his balance as he felt the room spinning around him. He held onto one of the shelves for support, but he still managed to slightly fall backwards. He bumped into what he thought was a wall, but he heard the sound of fabric falling behind him.
When he turned around, he discovered a human-sized capsule. The pod's glass was cloudy due to the ice that had accumulated on it. Homelander was suspicious, but he felt the need to know what was in there. He took off his glove and wiped his hand on the cold surface, revealing what was hidden underneath. What he saw made him fall to his knees.
Here you were, asleep, in the flesh. The closest you'd ever been to your son since the moment he was born, and you weren't even aware. This whole time, the person he longed for the most, had been an elevator ride away, and he never knew.
Your skin was pale due to the amount of time you'd spent in the cold, but your chest was rising and falling, confirming that you were indeed, alive and breathing. He thought you were dead, they all did.
But after all, why would Vought kill the asset that gave them the first naturally born supe ? You were the prize cattle.
Wanna know when the next one comes out ? Join Nina's Partners in Crime today !
I'm your Little Baby Doll, you're My Mr. Rock n' Roll - Chapter V
Cowboys escape a film set to catch a movie.
Nina's Remarks : Channeled my inner Tarantino for this chapter. [3.1k]
Click here for Companion Pinterest Board - Masterlist - Ao3
tw : swearing, mentions of murder
It had been two weeks since shooting for Coyote's Gambit had started. The whole experience had been nothing short of a dream. It was everything you had imagined before moving to LA. Your day-to-day was filled with fun moments on set, a great crew, no annoying manager and of course, a stuntman.
Ever since your incident, which you'd partially forgotten, your view on Cliff had completely shifted. From a goofy coworker to a man you could see yourself getting closer to. You unknowingly found yourself reading into every interaction you had, your gaze would automatically shift towards him when you weren't occupied or bored, amongst other things. On the other end of things, Cliff was unreadable. What was he thinking ? Was he also feeling this change between you ? You couldn't tell. He was the same as the day you met him in that studio parking lot.
"Cut !" You heard Max shout as you sighed, ending your scene. Max grabbed his megaphone and spoke; "Lunch break everyone ! You've all got two hours since we're ahead of schedule."
You began walking out of the fake ranch and making your way towards your own mini-trailer. You still remember seeing it for the first time, you stared at your name on that metal door for at least ten minutes. As you reached your quarters, you heard the sound of metal spurs behind you. You didn't need to look back to know who it was.
"Got anything planned for the next hour and a half ?" The all too familiar voice spoke.
"I was gonna reread some scripts, but I guess not." You turned around to face Cliff. You were both still in costume, making the whole conversation quite unserious.
"That's what I thought. Well, I was thinkin' of catching a picture. There's this really interesting one I've been wanting to see playing soon and I do hate going to the movies alone."
You walked towards him to close the distance between you two. "Oh, well suppose I could accompany you, so it's less lonely."
"You'd do that for me ?" He joked as you began walking ahead towards the parking lot.
The walk to the now-familiar yellow Cadillac was short. You’d recently learned that Rick had had his license revoked after multiple DUIs, leaving the car completely in Cliff’s hands.
One of the perks of spending your days on a film set was that a cinema was always a few streets away. You hadn’t had the chance to go enjoy a movie in quite sometime due to being a co-lead in a semi-important production. But you had made it a point since moving to Los Angeles to visit the theater at least once a month.
The drive was less than two minutes. The both of you stayed silent and enjoyed the music being played on the radio, notably, one of the Rolling Stones’ newest songs, Gimmie Shelter. You could see Cliff tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat.
As the car came to a stop, you briefly looked at yourself in the side-view mirror. You were lucky when it came to your costuming. Instead of wearing one of the more eye-catching garments that day, Sean had given you a simple fitted white blouse and a blue high-waisted skirt, accompanied by a matching bow around your collar, replacing the hoop dresses and bonnets. Cliff wasn’t as fortunate. The costume department had made him and Rick wear chaps, spurs and hats, giving them an authentic cowboy look.
You got out of the vehicle and walked alongside the stuntman towards the entrance of the cinema. You looked up at the marquée to see the titles of the movies being shown. As you did, you hit Cliff’s arm and shouted; “You bastard !”
“Now, now. That’s not very manager-approved language Miss L/N.” He chuckled.
The movie being played next was Cottontail Bandit. Although you weren’t ashamed of the film, it was definitely not something you’d want to watch with a man you’d recently gained an interest in.
“You said it was a picture you’d been wanting to see.” You argued as you made your way towards the ticket booth.
“I have been wanting to watch it. It’s an hour and a half of you dressed as a playmate.” As he muttered the sentence, you made sure not to look at him and hoped that his tinted sunglasses would hide the pink washing over your face.
“How much are tickets ?” Cliff asked the teen working inside the booth.
“A dollar and sixty-two.” An outrageous price for a piece of paper, but due to being in LA and close to a major studio headquarter, it wasn’t much of a surprise.
“Give me two of those for Cottontail Bandit.” The cowboy reached for his wallet as the worker ripped the tickets from the pile next to him.
“I can pay for my own.” You said, but Cliff had already slid the money below the glass window.
“Oh, I know you can.” He answered back with a smirk as he grabbed the papers and strode towards the projection room. As you followed behind him, you noticed the teen looking at you, which made you pick up your pace.
“This is so embarrassing.” You said as you pushed the red doors leading to the theater.
“For you maybe.” Cliff said as you both walked up the carpeted stairs. Although you were unable to see it, you knew there was a smile on his face as he said that.
You could tell the previews were almost over as the light in the room began to dim even more. You tried to follow Cliff as it began to be harder and harder to see him. You felt the tip of your heavy boot collide with one of the steps, making you lose your balance and tilt forward. In a last-ditch attempt to not fall on your face, your body almost autonomously grabbed the pillar of stability closest to you, Cliff’s bicep.
The stuntman turned around to face you, completely unaffected by the sudden pull. “You alright sugar ?” He said as he helped you regain your balance.
“Yeah, it’s just really difficult walking in these boots.” You answered as the both of you sat down in the bright red chairs.
“Take ‘em off then.”
“What ?” You almost laughed.
“Nobody ‘ll see you. That’s what’s great about movie theaters, you’re practically invisible.”
You looked around the room. Since it was noon, there weren’t many people at the screening. A couple, a few groups of teenagers and five lonely viewers. You sighed as you lifted up your leg to practically rip off the leather shoes. You hadn’t realized how painful your feet had become. You’d have to discuss it with Sean.
You placed your lower legs on the seat in front of you as it was empty. “You gettin’ comfortable ?” Cliff laughed.
“If I’m gonna be humiliated, I’d rather at least not be in excruciating pain.”
The two of you quieted down as the movie began. The screen began showing the production company and the names of those involved. As your name appeared in front of you, Cliff loudly clapped.
“Stop !” You whisper-yelled at him with a smile as you sunk further in your seat from embarrassment. You heard Cliff chuckle in response.
You’d actually not seen the film in full since there hadn’t been a real premiere and you’d been so caught up shooting Coyote’s Gambit. You had no clue which scenes had been cut, or how they’d been edited. This was as much of a surprise for you as it was for everyone else in the room.
The first scene began with the camera following you, in full bunny uniform, from behind as you held a tray of champagne flutes, not revealing your face to the audience yet. Your character is stopped by a man, and she puts the tray down on the table he is sitting at. He asks for her name, and as she answers, she slips a pill into his drink.
Cliff stayed silent as the film progressed. Looking at him discreetly, he seemed to actually be focused on what he was watching. You weren’t sure if Cliff had an actual interest in the art form or if he’d just gotten in the business for quick cash.
You recognized the set in front of you, and you knew the last scene you’d ever want Cliff to see was coming up. Your character is behind the bar, serving a man who she’d been tricking for quite some time. As he talks to her, she pours him a drink.
“I’ve been trying to stay far away from this place. I feel like I hear a siren’s call every time I’m in the area. And once I leave, I’m short five hundred dollars.” The actor said.
Your character pushed the drink towards the man. As he began to drink, she lowered herself onto the bar, making herself look smaller and her cleavage stand out way more. You gave the most puppy-like eyes you could. “Oh, but haven’t I been such a good girl lately, Howard…”
You hid your face in your hands. You didn’t regret the role. It furthered your career, it gave you experience and you enjoyed it. Your problem was that you perhaps didn’t want Cliff to see it. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was your lack of costume or the way your character’s personality wasn’t a reflection of who you were.
Cliff noticed your movement next to him. He lowered his head to reach your ear and whispered. “Everyone’s glued to the screen.”
“Oh, I wonder why.” You joked.
“Can you blame them ?” He said as he moved away.
His words made you completely lose focus on the film. It was strange that you were this shocked. It’d be difficult to watch the movie and not notice the various shots of your body. But for him to acknowledge it made you short circuit.
Next thing you knew, the end credits were rolling. “We better get out of here before one of these creeps decide to steal you for themselves.” Cliff said, instinctively reaching for your hand and guiding you out.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing, Mr Steele ?” You could tell by the slight quickening in his pace, that Cliff might’ve forgotten the two of you were meant to be on set soon.
“Come on now Margaret, we have horses to ride and bounties to collect.”
As you both walked out of the screening room, an usher called out to you in an english accent. “Pardon me miss, but are you perhaps Y/N L/N ?”
You stopped in your tracks, and you felt a slight pull in your arm from Cliff who’d tried to keep walking. “That would be me, yes.”
“I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.” The usher laughed. “It’s an honour to have you at our establishment.”
“It’s an honour to be here. You have a beautiful cinema.”
“We’ve got to get goin’ or we’re gonna be late for the shoot, sweetheart.” You heard Cliff say from behind you.
“Before you leave, would you mind signing Cottontail Bandit’s poster ?” The usher said, understanding you were in a rush to leave.
“Not at all.” You said as the usher guided you towards the outside of the theater where a poster of you was stored in a glass cage. The usher unlocked the compartment and handed you a marker he had kept in his pocket. You quickly signed your name at the bottom, with a heart, and gave the man his pen back.
“Thank you, miss Y/N.”
“My pleasure.” You smiled as you began walking away. “Gosh, I can’t believe that just happened !” You said as you squeezed Cliff’s hand instinctively, noticing he still hadn’t let go of you.
“Should be happenin’ more often now that you’re becoming a real starlet.” He reached the passenger door of Rick’s crème Cadillac and opened it for you.
“Jealous you won’t have me all to yourself cowboy ?” You giggled as you sat down.
“Damn straight I am.” He said as he reached his side of the vehicle and started the engine.
The short drive back to the film lot was quite entertaining. As you drove off, Cliff started the discussion with; “Did I ever tell you about the time I was attacked by a group of hippies ?”. That was probably the wildest story you’d ever heard, and you believed all of it.
“Okay, but how did Rick even have access to a flame-thrower ?”
“He asked for it in his contract for The fourteen fists of McCluskey.”
“That can’t be legal.”
“It is when you’re famous.”
As the car pulled up past the gate and into the parking lot for Coyote’s Gambit, you heard a screeching voice from the town square set. As you got out of the car and walked towards the disturbance, you noticed a crowd formed around the person of interest. You sighed.
“I will not allow filming to continue !” Frances Adams was shouting at the poor assistant director who seemed to be too intimidated to actually mutter a response. “You are using my client without my consent !”
You and Cliff watched from the sidelines, Frances’ back facing you. You saw Max walking towards the middle of the circle to address the problem himself. “What the hell is going on here ?” He asked, not trying to hide his annoyance.
“I want my client, Y/N L/N, out of this production.”
You couldn’t believe what you’d heard. Frances would rather jeopardize your career than have you defy her. She knew how big of a deal Coyote’s Gambit was. She knew that it would be a role that would thrust you into the spotlight, therefore making her more money, but she didn’t care. Her authority was all that mattered to her at that moment.
“Lady, Y/N signed a contract a month ago stipulating that she would take part in at least one season of this show. It’s too late to back out now.”
“I don’t care, she needs to be out now ! Find a replacement, I don’t give a damn. Do you know who I am ?!”
Max’s gaze shifted from her to you, signaling to Frances that you were indeed there. She quickly turned around and her attention went to you, her rage growing from the mere sight of your face.
“And you !” She said as she approached you menacingly, her index pointed directly at your chest. “I made you who you are. You’re standing here, wasting everybody’s time and playing pretend with a murderer, because of me ! You’re really nothing special without me !”
All eyes were on you, patiently waiting for your response. You blanked for a moment and the world seemed to move in slow-motion. You’d come all this way from Oklahoma and you were so close to finally reaching your dream. But in that moment, you feared it would all come crashing down. So you said the only thing you could think of; “We’re done, Frances.”
“To hell we are ! I’m the one who calls the shots.” She said, her words dripping with venom.
“Then I’ll take you to court. How are you going to defend yourself ? You gambled and drank all your money.” You felt a boost of confidence flow through you. Were your threats real ? Probably not, but if there’s one thing you knew about Frances Adams it’s that beneath her hard rock exterior, she was a coward.
Her stance shifted. You could tell she was finally embarrassed by the whole ordeal. “This isn’t over, you bitch.” She said as she began walking past you. She quickly grabbed your arm to whisper in your ear. “When you’re bleeding out and dying because of him, you think of me.” She let go of her iron grip on you and disappeared from your sight.
The crowd that had formed stayed silent for a moment. “I’m so sorry about that, everyone. Let’s get back to work, huh ?” You said, feeling ashamed of yourself, but you couldn’t show it, you had to be strong.
“You heard the woman !” Maxwell said, and everyone quickly left to go back to their stations.
You let out an exasperated sigh. What had to happen eventually, happened.
“Well, at least we don’t have to deal with her naggin’ again.” Cliff said.
“That was so humiliating.” You said as you approached him, your head looking down. You were close enough that you could see his shoes, which you’d just realized were odd-looking for the first time.
“More humiliatin’ than the projection earlier ?”
You hummed in agreement as you hit the top of your head against his chest, as if that would hide you from the workers around you.
“Damn, she beats me again.” You couldn’t even laugh due to the thought of what had just transpired. “Well, at least you’re free from her now, missy.”
You felt Cliff’s hands grab your jaw to forcibly pull your head up to make you look at him. The distance between your two faces was minuscule, you could practically feel him breathing on your skin. He took a serious, almost authoritative tone and said; “You’re going to be a fuckin’ star and don’t you let anyone make you forget it. Especially not some bitter old woman.”
Your body froze. You looked at Cliff’s face, truly looked at it. You noticed the few wrinkles that were slightly noticeable on his tan skin. You saw the few grey-rooted hair he was growing in his blond mane. You carefully analyzed the shape of his nose, eyes and mouth, as if when you’d look away, you’d forget them forever. His irises were a shade of dark blue that reminded you of the seaside, a colour you could see yourself getting lost in forever.
You heard a whistle from your right side. You turned to look at the origin of the noise, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was Rick, standing in the makeup trailer, accompanied by his fake mustache and wig. “Shootin’ starting up again, we’re gonna need y-you soon, Y/N !”
“I’ll be right there !” You shouted back. You looked back at the stuntman, and pulled your visage apart from his grip. As you moved away, you noticed you’d been standing on the tip of your toes this whole time. Gosh that man was tall. How could anyone not notice when it was Cliff doing stunts on TV instead of Rick with that height difference !
“We better get going, Mister Booth.” You said with a slight sigh, returning to your usual teasing tone.
“Ladies first,” He said as he gestured for you to walk in front of him. You giggled and did as he said. Rick held the door of the trailer open for the both of you as you entered.
One thought had been plaguing your mind for the last ten minutes; What was stopping the two of you now ?
Wanna know when the next one comes out ? Join Nina's Partners in Crime today !
Hi everyone. Sorry I left the internet for six months. I was busy with school and work from April to June (and for that I apologize because there was a lot of procrastination). I planned to make a comeback in August, but that was delayed due to someone I was close to becoming very sick very quickly out of nowhere and passing away. I've just been trying to live life slowly since. I plan on making a full comeback this month or the next.
Now for updates on all my works ; Luce Della Mia Vita Ch. 6 is being written after being left in my drafts for almost a year due to my Sopranos hyperfixation slowly fading, but there should be an update this month. At your Mercy is being partially rewritten (same plot, just changing a few minor details and the writing itself due to me disliking my portrayal of Commodus). I'm your Little BabyDoll, you're my Mr. Rock n' Roll is being updated soon, I just had terrible writers block that I was unable to get out of, but the chapter is 3/4 finished. Quando Sono in Ginocchio, Prego Per te is complicated. I regularly see people interacting with my announcement and sneak peak posts, but I'm unsure about the fate of it because I don't think the Conclave fandom would like my portrayal of the reader. I also have a number of other works that are unpublished for multiple fandoms (AOT, The Boys, JJBA, etc).
Anywho, I hope this answers any questions you might've had during my absence. If you have any other questions don't be afraid to ask via my comments or ask-box.
Sneak Peak from Quando Sono in Ginocchio, Prego per te (Goffredo Tedesco x Reader)
“Pardon me asking, you eminence, what are you doing here ? I’m sure you have more important duties at San Marco, no ?”
He placed a white and gold stole around his shoulders. “This used to be my Church, believe it or not. Plus, it’s time for Mass.”
You looked around, noticing the Basilica was completely vacant except for the two of you. He noticed your gaze at the empty seats in front of you. “No one comes to Church anymore. Back when I was a boy, these halls were always full.” He scoffed as he grabbed one of the eucharists from the tabernacle. “You had people listening in from outside.” He raised the wafer in the air, and whispered a quick prayer, before turning to face you.
He made a quick head gesture, looking at you. You gave him a slightly confused stare. He shook his head again, this time with a cough. Oh.
You slowly got on your knees with crossed hands, and closed your eyes. He recited a few words in Latin, and began lowering his arms towards your face. You opened your mouth, as if you were used to this, and as he placed the eucharist on your tongue, you felt his thumb stay on your lower lip for a millisecond too long.
What you couldn’t see, was that instead of focusing on blessing the offering, he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from you. Your eyes, your mouth, your hair. It was clear from the look he displayed on his face, that his duties were the last thing on his mind at the moment.
A/N : Please let me know if this should be a series or a one-shot because some plot elements might change based on that. Also, if there's anything you'd want to see, don't be afraid to ask, I need inspiration.
Okay... So what if... Hypothetically... I was currently writing a Pre-Conclave Tedesco story about a woman he meets at his Church who makes him question his whole career... With this vibe...
I'm your Little Baby Doll, you're My Mr. Rock n' Roll - Chapter IV
Missing a bus results in unprofessional behaviour between coworkers.
Nina's Remarks : Favourite one yet. [3k]
Click here for Companion Pinterest Board - Masterlist - Ao3
tw : swearing, mentions of murder
Shooting Coyote's Gambit had proved to be a fun but challenging project for you. Today marked the end of the third day of filming. Well, actually, today marked the beginning of the fourth day of filming. Last night's shoot had spilled into the early hours of the morning. Although you could already feel the eye bags forming on your face, you'd kept going, trying to perfect your scene.
You left the costume department after waving goodbye to Sean, with your purse in hand and a new script to learn. You walked between the different buildings trying to make your way to the parking lot, hoping your bus hadn't driven away. Due to the time, it would be at least an hour before the next one.
After turning around a corner near the props department, the smell of smoke filled your nostrils. In front of you, Cliff leaned back on a brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He turned his head slightly to look at who was walking towards him, and lightly smiled when he saw it was you.
You approached him, holding your bag in front of you. "Headed home ?" He asked.
"Yeah, I have to catch a bus."
"Didn't I see you with a car yesterday ?" He said as he got up from the wall.
"It's at the garage. Something about the exhaust.. I wouldn't know."
"Well, mind if I join you on your walk ?" You shook your head, and the both of you began strolling towards the parking lot.
"Rick's not with you ?" You asked, trying to start a conversation.
"Nah, sometimes he sleeps in the offices when he knows he's gotta be back early in the morning."
He was right. It was four in the morning and you had to be on set ready to shoot for eight. Going home might've been useless, but you were already on your way, so it was too late to change your mind now.
"Smart guy."
As the parking lot came into view, you saw the bus slowly departing. Without thinking, you tried running, but you soon realized it was useless as the conductor was not going to wait for you. You stopped in your tracks as the vehicle drove away. You sighed as you tried to catch your breath.
"Seems like you might have to go join Rick until filming restarts." Cliff said as he looked at you, a look of amusement painted on his face.
"You're terrible, you know that ?"
"Come on." He said as he walked past you and into the parking lot.
You quickly caught up to him and followed along as he walked between lines of expensive cars. He took a set of keys from his pocket and you heard the sound of a car door unlocking. In front of you was the pale yellow Cadillac you'd seen the night you met Cliff.
"Stealing Rick's car ?" You asked as he reached to open the passenger door for you.
"Rick can't drive, it might as well be my car. Minus the taxes." You sat down on the soft leather seat and watched as the stuntman walked to the other side before getting inside the vehicle.
"Where are we going ?" You said as you threw your bag on the backseat.
"I need a drink."
The engine roared to life and you began driving away. Barely out of the parking lot, you turned on the radio and switched through the channels. Nothing stood out to you. At this hour, radio stations mostly played soft 40s songs. After at least five minutes of nothing but static coming from the speaker and a sigh from Cliff, you finally landed on a song that interested you. You immediately recognized the guitar line. Hearing it made you completely forget you were ever tired.
"What's this ?" Cliff asked as he pressed a button on the dash board, making the roof of the car slowly open.
"Layla !" You said as you felt the wind pass through your hair.
The car began gaining more and more speed. You watched as the lights of the buildings around you became blurry. You laughed and laid your head back.
You noticed how Cliff was driving recklessly. Switching lanes quickly to avoid slow drivers on the boulevard and never slowing down. You assumed his training as a stuntman included driving fast cars at dangerous speeds, which could explain his carefree behaviour.
Layla, you've got me on my knees !
Layla, I'm begging, darling, please !
Cliff finally stopped at a red light. "Well, look who it is." The man said as he gestured towards the sky with his head. In front of the two of you stood another billboard for Cottontail Bandit. You got up from your seat and held onto the windshield to get a better look. You smiled, almost amazed by your own picture. You leaned forward, your dress slightly riding up your thighs.
Beside you, Cliff observed. His gaze had begun at your legs and ended on your face, like the first time he'd seen you. You were so happy, unable to control your happiness.
A red sports car full of young men, obviously drunk and headed to a party, stopped beside you. "That you ?" The driver asked you, his voice cheerful due to the alcohol he'd had.
"You see any other pretty actresses around ?" Cliff asked, making his presence known to the boy, with a devious smile. The boy stayed silent. When the light turned green, Cliff revved the engine before driving away. As you felt the wind on your face once more, you began slowly lifting your arms from the windshield and closing your eyes.
You felt a hand making its way to your lower back, holding you. You quickly looked back to see Cliff with one hand lazily on the steering wheel and the other on your back, making sure you wouldn't accidentally fall. You went back to looking at the road, you felt safe, even at the dangerous speed the Cadillac was reaching.
As the song came to an end, so did the car ride. Cliff slowed down and stopped the car in the parking lot of a famous Hollywood bar. You leaned down further on the windshield and watched as Cliff got out of the vehicle.
"You comin' little lady ?" He asked as he waited for you.
You hummed as you sat down on the top of the windowless car door. Cliff huffed as he walked back towards you. He placed both of his hands beside you on the car, caging you.
"We only got..." He looked down at his watch, you leaned your head as if to look too. "Three hours before we need to be back on set. And you're comin' with me" He said as he suddenly grabbed your hips and threw you over his shoulder, holding you only with one arm. You laughed and wiggled trying to get out of his grip. He let you go once you approached the door.
"Now, you act nice, people here know me." He said with a fake condescending tone as he lowered his head to speak to you face-to-face.
"I don't think your reputation can get any worse, stuntman."
You walked inside the brightly lit establishment, it was mostly empty, maybe only a dozen people inside not including the staff. Cliff sat down on one of the stools at the bar and patted the seat next to him, beckoning you to do the same. You quickly joined him. The bartender approached you. "The usual, Cliff ?"
"You know it."
"And for the lady ?" The man said as he turned to look at you. "Vodka Martini, dirty." You answered.
"Dirty ?" Cliff said as the bartender left to make the order.
"Very." You said with an air of over exaggerated innocence.
"Did Rick pass you his flask on set ?" Cliff laughed.
"What do you mean ?" You said, continuing your blameless act.
Before any other words could be exchanged, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked behind you.
"Fran, what are you doing here ?"
"You haven't returned my calls in three days." She said, not an ounce of glee in her voice.
"I-I'm sorry, I guess I forgot. How'd you get here ?" The unease in your voice was easy to hear.
"It's difficult not to spot you standing in a car being driven by a maniac." She said as she glared at Cliff.
You heard the sound of the bartender placing your glasses behind you. You pushed Frances' hand off you, but she grabbed your wrist.
"What the fuck did I tell you ? Stay away from him. You're trying to ruin your image this early on in your career ?"
Cliff pulled her hand away from you and placed himself between the two of you. "Enough of that. What the hell do you think you're doing ?" He said, still as careless as ever.
"Saving her from you, you sick fuck." Her face somehow contorted into an even angrier expression. But she stayed relatively calm, not wanting to cause in scene in public.
"Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna kill her ? Like I did Billie ?" He whispered that last part. "You're a shitty excuse of a manager, not mentioning a failed actress."
She quickly slapped him without hesitation. Cliff gasped, in faux-shock as a smile overtook his features. "Wow, I didn't think you had it in you." He held his cheek to mock her further.
"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to leave the premises, please." The bartender said calmly.
"I'm gone." She said as she angrily but quietly stormed out.
Cliff sat back down and took a gulp of his Bloody Mary. You couldn't help but admire him in that moment.
"You need to cut her out." Cliff chuckled as he put his glass down.
"You alright ?" You said as you lightly touched his cheek with your hand, making sure there was no swelling. You felt bad for what Frances had been saying about him and now what she'd done to him.
"Never better. Don't you worry your pretty little head, this is by-far the least painful slap I've ever gotten."
"Alright." You said with a smile as you took a sip of your drink.
"Dirty enough for you ?"
"Perfect."
"So you're not afraid to stand up in a moving car, but you're afraid of horse riding ?"
After only two other martinis, and meaningless conversation, you felt your head begin to spin. You were flushed and trying to stay seated as you felt your body become weak. You could feel yourself leaning towards Cliff. He held your shoulders to get you back to standing straight.
Cliff laughed a genuine laugh. "You're a lightweight aren't you, princess ?"
"What's that s'posed to mean, Booth ?" You slurred your words.
"C'mon, let's get you out of here." He placed some money on the counter, placed a hand under your knees and behind your shoulders and lifted you up, carrying you bridal style. You unconsciously placed your arms around his neck as he began walking outside. You played with his hair and began trying to talk. "H... Have I told you, you're like really hot ?"
"Oh, yeah ?" He teased, he knew this would be hillarious later.
"You could punch me and I'd thank you." You said as you buried your head in his chest. He held back a laugh.
"I wouldn't do that, your face is too cute."
"You think so ?"
"Absolutely."
He laid you down on the hood of the yellow Cadillac and backed away to get a good look of you. You lazily stretched your arms out with a slight moan. He observed you. He noticed the little things, like how you'd lost your headband at some point during the night, or the fact that your dress fit you perfectly, or the way you batted your eyelashes very slowly.
"We need to get you sobered up, darlin'. Shoot starts in an hour and a half."
"No, I don't want to." You protested as you looked at the sunrise.
Cliff went looking in the car for something to give you. He found one of Rick's Aspirin bottles, twisted the lid and popped one of the pills in his hand.
"I don't think I have any water to help you take this."
"It's fine." You said as you sat up, took the capsule from him and swallowed it without any trouble.
"Get in the car, we're going for a ride."
You would've complained but you didn't have the strength at that point. You sat down on the, now cold, leather seat and fought to keep your eyes opened. You were almost fully woken up by a pair of hands gently grabbing your face. "Now, you gotta promise me somethin', dollface. You're not gonna fall asleep." You leaned into his touch and softly nodded. "Good girl."
He let go of you and started the engine once more before driving away. You sighed and laid down on the front seat, your head ending up in his lap and your feet outside the vehicle. He looked down at you with a smile. "You promised me you wouldn't try to sleep."
"I'm not, I'm observing you." You pouted, as you lifted up your hand to touch his face, but were too tired to do so.
He grabbed your hand. "What's Max gonna say when you show up to set like this ?"
"He's gonna think I'm a real actress now. No one in Hollywood works sober." You said as you watched him place your intertwined hands on your waist.
"Can't argue with that." Cliff laughed as he briefly looked down at you. "But real actresses can handle their alcohol."
You looked at the sky above you. The few clouds in the orange sky passing you by. You could see palm trees from the corner of your eyes from time to time. Although you couldn't feel the breeze on your face anymore, you breathed in the fresh air, calming you down. You heard the faint sound of the radio, it was playing a song. California Dreamin' by The Mamas and The Papas.
Cliff reached for the carton of cigarettes on his dash. He grabbed it and brought one of the cancer sticks to his mouth. He looked for his lighter, and found it in one of the cupholders. After lighting the cig and taking a puff, his gaze shifted to you again. "You smoke ?"
"I'm not allowed to."
"What do you mean you're not allowed to ? Your folks spyin' on you ?"
"Frances says I can't. It's not good for my image, 'women don't smoke'."
"That woman is a chainsmoker." You shrugged. "Well, fuck her."
He handed you the cigarette. You laughed dryly. You took an inhale and coughed lightly.
"Yeah, I don't think it's for me." You said as you placed the cigarette back in his mouth.
You arrived at the studio and felt the hot Californian sun on your skin. "You know I could stay like this all day, but we got a job to do." Your driver said as you stood up and got out of the Cadillac. You rubbed your eyes with a groan. "Come on, cowgirl."
You felt a familiar touch on your hips, leading you towards the gates. After a slow and silent walk, you finally made it to the costume department. Inside, Sean was putting some makeup on Rick, getting him ready for the day. Both heads turned to look at you. Sean approached you with a shocked expression and Rick got out of his chair as Cliff let go of you.
"What did you do ?" Sean asked, scared almost, as he grabbed your shoulder as if to wake you up. You weren't sure if he was talking to you or Cliff. You stayed silent, unable to fully concentrate on what was happening around you.
"She had a few drinks." Cliff explained.
"A few ?" Rick answered back, his voice cracking.
"Why would you do this ? You knew we had a shoot this morning." The costume designer said as he helped you sit down in one of the makeup chairs.
"I didn't know she couldn't handle alcohol."
"She's barely old enough to drink ! Is she even 21 ?!"
Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "C-Cliff, it was real difficult tryin' to get producers to hire you after what happened to Billie. Are you trying to catch a r-reputation for gettin' series leads drunk ? Not extras, leads !"
Before the stuntman could defend himself, Maxwell walked into the room.
"What's all this shouting about ?"
Everyone went silent.
Max looked at everyone single one of you, wondering what was going on. He strolled towards you and placed a hand on your shoulder.
"You okay, Y/N ?" He definitely knew you were out of it. You hummed, not wanting to make your state more obvious by trying to talk.
"Alright." The director said, before whispering to Sean ; "We're gonna start with establishing shots of the desert this morning. Might take a few hours. So no need for Rick and Y/N to be there until maybe 11 or 12." Sean nodded.
As the director left, there was a collective sigh from everyone present.
"Do I still have the job ?" You asked.
"Of course you do ! The show wouldn't be the same without you." Sean reassured.
"No need to worry dear old Franny over this." Cliff joked as he finally placed the shared cigarette he'd been holding onto for ten minutes in a nearby ashtray.
You yawned and laid back on your chair, thinking back to the bright lights you'd seen on the road and the colourful signs that decorated the path. You'd never been in a car driven at such speeds. Somehow this night out felt the same as the day you'd arrived in Los Angeles. Curious and full of excitement. How beautiful California was. The dream of so many, including you.
No matter how intoxicated you were, you couldn't forget the touch you'd felt earlier. It lingered on your mind like a tattoo, permanent and unable to scrub it away. Was he a coworker or a friend ? After all the threats from Frances you'd received, you were conflicted about what to do next. But you wished to stay near him, for now.
Wanna know when the next one comes out ? Join Nina's Partners in Crime today !
I'm your Little Baby Doll, you're My Mr. Rock n' Roll - Chapter III
Getting close to an alleged murderer.
Nina's Remarks : Margaret is named after Margaret Qualley. [3k]
Click here for Companion Pinterest Board - Masterlist - Ao3
tw : mentions of murder
You remember sitting down in front of your family's small TV, on the fuzzy beige carpet to watch reruns of Bounty Law on Saturdays. It wasn't your favourite program, by far, but you made sure to catch it in the afternoon since it was the only show you and your siblings could all enjoy together. You weren't particularly a fan of Jake Cahill, what really interested you about Bounty Law was the setting. The old far west. A time you'd never know.
You wondered how people back then lived. With no electricity, no laws and no television. You wondered, at the time, if you would've made a good cowgirl. Riding a horse seemed fun enough and you were certain you could do it, just like Cahill, who made it all look easy. But now, almost a decade later, you would soon realize that Jake Cahill, in truth, Rick Dalton, was a terrible rider, or so you'd heard. And that it wasn't him on that horse most of the time, it was Cliff Booth.
You arrived on set early that morning, slightly groggy from spending the previous night rereading scripts. The usually imposing sun could barely be seen in the sky. It took you a while to get used to the Californian weather, and sometimes, like that day, it still felt unusual.
As you'd come to learn, Maxwell was... a unique director. It seemed like he was always in a hurry. You wondered why the studio hadn't fired him yet, considering he was the opposite of what they looked for in directors. He did not let anyone push him over, he wanted control on everything concerning his films and he liked production not to last too long. He was undeniably talented, but executives favoured money over creativity.
You walked towards the outdoor shooting area and you were immediately woken up by what you saw. The whole 'street' looked like it had time travelled to 1866. You stood there for a few seconds. There was movement all around you, from horses, to extras dressed in period-typical clothing and set designers moving around props. You were so enthralled by the scenery surrounding you that you hadn't noticed someone placing a hand on your shoulder.
"Ain't never seen a movie set before, sweetheart ?" You turned around to face the now all-too familiar voice.
"Not of this scale. It's amazing." You said as you took in Cliff's appearance. He was wearing a blue jean jacket with matching pants and a black t-shirt. You made sure not to look at his hand as he removed it from your shoulder.
"Don't get too excited about it. You're gonna see a million like this in your life." He said as he began walking to the costume trailer and you promptly followed. "This' a reused lot from Lancer. Studio didn't have time to build a new one as per Blyhte's request."
You hummed in acknowledgement. As you stepped into the costume department, you were faced with rows and rows of clothing racks holding hundreds if not thousands of costumes, each labeled meticulously by name. There were fabrics, accessories and clothes as far as the eyes could see. The room smelled of aging textiles, something that reminded you of an old woman's sewing room.
A man holding a brown clipboard and a pen approached you. He had shaggy bleached hair and a slight beard. He wore a colourful suit with a lot of mismatched accessories. He had what seemed to be eyeliner on his waterline and eyeshadow on his eyelids. "Names ?" He asked, completely focused on his papers.
"Cliff Booth." Cliff said as he took off his sunglasses and placed them in his jacket's pocket.
The man hummed and quickly checked a box on his list. He stayed silent for a few seconds, indicating it was your turn to answer. "Y/N L/N." He scribbled something down and finally looked up at the both of you.
"I'm Sean Orton, I'm the lead costume designer for the show." He said with a big smile. "And you are..." He looked through his list to find your names again. "Co-star and lead stunt for the series ! Wow, very impressive. It's gonna be a pleasure working with you." He turned around and began walking through the labyrinth behind him.
"We're here for our costume fitting. I think Mr. Blythe wants to start shooting in the next hour." You said, raising your voice slightly, unsure if he could even hear you with all the equipment between you.
"Always in a rush Maxwell. Well... Mr. Booth, I already have your suit, but Miss L/N, I'm gonna need to make some adjustments to your dress... quickly." He said as he handed you a white dress and pointed to a changing room.
You pulled the cabin's curtain, got in and began swapping your modern day attire for a typical 1800s garment. It was quite simple and modest, made of light cotton. You presumed it was historically accurate to a degree as it looked exactly like what you were used to seeing on television. Maybe your dream of being a cowgirl wasn't so ridiculous now.
You heard rustling from behind the fabric separating you from the two men as Sean began speaking. "I worked on your dress for the past two days. I got your measurements from the designers on Cottontail Bandit, but I just need to make sure everything fits and looks right."
After a minute or two, you pulled back the green and blue curtain and walked out. Sean was the only one standing in front of you. He motioned for you to step on a small platform. You extended your arms and he began working on the hem of your dress. He was simply tying off knots that were left loose for fitting and removing any safety pins that had been put in place. "Where's Cliff ?" You asked.
"Right here, darlin'" You heard someone say from another changing room further in the room.
You felt a warmth in your heart, knowing you were not alone. Not that you were in a particularly dangerous situation or that you were nervous, but his presence just put you at ease somehow. You wondered if he had that effect on everyone. You doubted that last thought, thinking back to his infamous reputation as a wife killer.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the sound of metal spurs hitting the ground. You looked at the stuntman, now in full cowboy getup, hat, boots and everything. You'd be lying if you said you weren't momentarily stunned by his appearance. You wondered why he'd never tried becoming an actor, as far as you knew, he certainly had the face of a leading man.
Sean tied a red skirt around your waist and handed you a matching shawl to hang loosely around your shoulders. He quickly put your hair into a braid and then into an up-do, joking that women back then would've loved hairspray since they were always stuck with the same hairstyle. He put some light blush on your cheeks and applied a pink lip balm on your lips.
Once the costume designer was done, Cliff approached you, giving you his arm and a wink. "Ma'am, I think we're needed elsewhere."
You hopped off the small podium and linked your arm with his as you both began exiting. "Thank you, Sean !" You said, as the man also bid you goodbye, before leaving to make your way towards the set.
You walked towards the fake building surrounded by cameras and other filming equipment, signalling that that was where you were needed.
"Can't let Frances see us like this." You joked as you looked ahead, wondering where your manager was.
"Like what ?" Cliff said with his fake-oblivious attitude.
"You know very well. Poor woman thinks I'm your next victim."
"I don't think psycho managers are allowed on Blythe's productions. That's why she wasn't allowed at the audition. Unnecessary people equals less efficiency."
"Aren't you glad ?" You teased.
"Damn right I am. Get to spend more time with the sweetest actress in Hollywood."
You walked into the fake western bar and saw Rick and Max discussing. The scene you were about to shoot was a conversation between Margaret and Jack which would be interrupted by a bounty hunter. Due to the strange nature of the filming schedule, scenes were not shot in chronological or episodical order.
"Y/N, I think you found the wrong cowboy." Max joked as he and Rick smiled. You let go of Cliff as you were handed your script. As you began reading, two makeup girls powdered your face and added mascara to your lashes.
It was at that exact moment, you had a realization. You'd made it.
Here you were surrounded by staff taking care of you, working with an amazing crew and reading a script given to you by a highly talented director. You'd starred in your own movie, but for some reason practicing your lines while getting you makeup touched up near one of the most famous western actors of all time without a care in the world was what gave you the feeling that it was all worth it. Moving away, working non-stop, signing contracts, it culminated to this life you couldn't believe you were living. This was just the beginning of your career, you couldn't wait for what came next.
You held back a smile as Max asked everyone to get in place to start the first take. You walked behind the fake bar as set designer explained where your props were. You thanked him and turned your attention to a man behind the camera.
Cliff was backing away, towards his designated chair, observing you. You leaned your forearms on the bar as you waited for everyone to finish preparing. You gave him a joking sigh as the crew were finally ready to start.
"Action." Max called. Rick was sitting at a table in front of where you stood. You grabbed a bottle of fake alcohol that had been placed underneath the counter for you along with a glass and walked towards your costar. His head was resting on his hand, as if he was pondering. You placed the cup to his left and filed it up with the auburn liquid.
"Are you sure he was a bounty hunter ?" You, or Margaret, asked.
"I don't know many other men around here who carry that kind of weapon." Rick, or Jack, answered sarcastically as he brought the glass to his lips. "I don't want to skip town, Maggie, but-"
"If you keep running away, it's only a matter of time before they find you." You stood next to him as you watched him drink the prop whiskey. "You know it."
He loudly banged the glass on the wooden table when he was done. He sighed as he leaned back into his chair. "That, I do." Before he could utter another word, the saloon door swung open, announcing the arrival of another patron. The camera quickly moved to showcase the other man.
"Coyote." The actor said as he spat on the ground.
"I think you got the wrong man, pal. That ain't my name no more." Rick suddenly got up and motioned you to step behind him as you placed your arms in front of your chest to show Margaret's slight fear. The cameraman followed your movements as both of the men's hands lingered near their revolvers. "Cut ! Don't move !" Max shouted as he pushed the camera behind Rick and yourself to have a different point of view. Every aspect of this production was unlike anything you'd ever lived or heard about. "Continue." He said as you heard the click of the slate.
"There's a $1,000 bounty on your head, I ain't leaving without it." The 'hunter' said.
Rick quickly reached for his gun first and 'shot' the man. The actor was pulled from behind by a hidden wire and was propelled onto the ground of the fake street as comical smoke came out of Jack's pistol. "We have to get out of here before someone sees us. This may be the first one, but it ain't gonna be the last." Rick recited as he grabbed your wrist and walked out of frame, towards the unexacting back door of the saloon.
"End scene." Max said as he got up from his crouched position. "That was really good, let's try that again, and then we'll go shoot the departure."
After a few more takes, some better and some worse, the whole crew moved outside to film the next scene. There was a white horse waiting there, surrounded by handlers. You approached it and asked the owner's permission to pet it, to which he happily approved. He told you her name was Domino, but for the sake of the show she was called Daisy on screen. You smiled as the animal leaned onto your hand.
"You know how to ride ?" A voice, obviously belonging to your stuntman, now alleged murderer, acquaintance, said.
You turned around to look at him, wondering if you'd misheard him, keeping a hand on the horse. "Pardon ?" You almost choked on the air you were breathing.
"Horses. Do you know how to ride horses ?" He asked more specifically. His face practically lit up when he'd seen your half-concealed shock. "What did you think I meant ?"
"Nothing, I just had trouble hearing you." You said, feeling the blood rushing to your face. You couldn't believe you'd fallen for that. And you couldn't believe your first instinct was to think of... well that. It was so unlike you.
"I don't think so, Miss L/N." He huffed.
"Places everyone !" Max said, now holding a megaphone to ensure everyone could hear him. Cliff walked back to stand behind the camera as you stood next to Rick who was about to mount the horse. You heard someone call for the scene to start and Rick jumped on the saddle as you slowly approached him. He held out his hand for you. You took a moment before grabbing his arm to demonstrate Margaret's hesitation. "Don't tell me a horse scares you, Maggie. You're on of the toughest dames I know and this harmless creature worries you ?" Rick laughed. You sighed with annoyance and crossed your arms. "Come on. Daisy don't bite, I swear." You put your hand in his and Max ended the take.
You were confused, the scene ended with Margaret and Jack riding down the street, it was too early to cut. Rick got off the mare, and Cliff walked towards Domino to take his place. Now you understood. The man got on the saddle so easily, you wondered if he'd previously been a cowboy. The camera changed angles so the stuntman's face wouldn't be visible to the audience. You jokingly rolled your eyes as Cliff looked down at you, seemingly too happy about the situation.
He placed his hand in the same position Rick had and waited for the signal to start the scene. Once 'action' was called, you grabbed his hand as he helped pull you up and you sat behind him on the saddle. He clicked his tongue and hit the side of the horse with his shoe to signal to the animal to begin its walk. The sudden movement caused you to slightly lose balance, so you instinctively wrapped your arms around Cliff's abdomen as to not fall.
You didn't need to see his face, you already knew he was smirking.
After a a few seconds, you heard Max call out from afar with two thumbs up. "That was perfect !"
Domino stopped moving and you let go of the stuntman. Cliff quickly got off the horse, leaving you there alone and worried. A horse might not be as tall as a building, but Domino's height was still important enough to scare you. He began slowly walking away before you called for him.
"Um.. Cliff how do I... ?"
He stopped in his tracks and walked back to face you. "I'm sorry doll, do you not know how to dismount a horse ?" He joked as if that was the easiest thing in the world, his hands on his hips to emphasize his sarcasm.
"Obviously not. Tell me how and I'll do it."
Cliff didn't answer, he just held out his arms, indicating he wanted you to jump.
"Are you crazy ? I could fall and hurt myself. I'm not a stunt double, this could slow production weeks if not months." You said, completely serious.
"Don't you trust me ?" He kept his joyous attitude towards your slight fear of heights.
"I..."
"C'mon, jump, princess."
You took in a slow breath and wearily jumped off the horse and into his arms. He only held you in the air for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your mind go completely blank. He delicately placed you on the ground and leaned his head to look down at you, his hands still holding onto your waist.
"That wasn't so bad, was it ?" His voice was soft, as if comforting you, but still had that usual smugness he always had. You just shook your head, your gaze not leaving his, nervous almost. You were certain your face was pink, you could feel the heat rising.
The crew approached the two of you and began prepping for the next location. Cliff slowly backed away from you, his eyes focused solely you.
In that moment, it felt like everything and everyone around you was moving at a thousand miles per hour, and the only person you could clearly see was the old stuntman. His slightly greying disheveled hair, the early wrinkles starting to appear on his face, his strong arms, he was perfect to you. You forgot everything you'd known and been told about him, for now he was just Cliff. The silly stuntman that loved to tease with the most charming grin you'd ever seen. What was he doing to you ?
Wanna know when the next one comes out ? Join Nina's Partners in Crime today !
I'm your Little Baby Doll, you're My Mr. Rock n' Roll - Chapter II
Someone is determined to keep you apart.
Nina's Remarks : OUATIH is so good. [3.1k]
Click here for Companion Pinterest Board - Masterlist - Ao3
tw : swearing, mentions of murder
You were still a teenager when you moved to Hollywood. With not much to your name, you struggled to make end's meet. You had worked as a waitress, and it was there you'd met your talent agent, Frances Adams. You don't remember how your conversation had shifted from what kind of eggs she'd like that morning to your aspirations of becoming an actress. But in the end, she wasted no time making you sign a contract, binding your careers together for the next decade or so. You still didn't know if Frances had any true experience in business or managing.
In your two years of working together, she went from getting you to act in commercials to you starring in your own movies. You didn't have a clue how she'd done it, but you were grateful for what she'd done, as you knew not everyone in your position had these kinds of opportunities.
On your schedule today, an interview and an audition. You'd looked at the limited script you had been given the day before. A short western series, Coyote's Gambit, where you, if casted, would play the part of the main romantic interest. A sarcastic and confident woman with a vulnerable side named Margaret. You were happy to have been considered in something that wasn't a comedy. Not that you hadn't enjoyed making those pictures, simply you wanted to try something different, more challenging for you.
You arrived at the studio a little after nine. It was a hot day beneath the Californian sun. You'd opted to wear a dress considering the heat and the fact you had an interview that morning. You walked to the costume trailer, which was, luckily for you, not too far from the parking lot. The makeup artists had set up their stations outside considering the limited ventilation in the trailers. You greeted them all quickly as one of them motioned for you to sit down on a chair so she could get started.
You took a seat and closed your eyes as she began applying eyeshadow. After only fifteen minutes she was done. She handed you a mirror as she moved on to her next client. You admired her work. Your eyelids were painted a light blue with a sharp line of winged eyeliner and a thick coat of mascara on your lashes. It was a popular look and you thought fitted you well after all the monochrome makeup from Cottontail Bandit you'd been used to these past few months.
You heard the sound of someone walking towards you. You removed the mirror from your eyesight to see who it was. In front of you stood a man in a black shirt and white pants, sunglasses covering his eyes.
"Mr. Booth, what are you doing here today ?" You asked with a slight smirk as you crossed your legs and laid back further in your chair.
"Driving around my boss, it's all I do these days." He huffed as he put a hand on the armrest of your chair. You had to stop yourself from looking down at his bicep. "What do they got you lookin' all pretty for ?"
"An interview and later an audition." He hummed.
"I think this is the first time I've seen you in regular clothes." He joked as he pulled his sunglasses further down his nose, exposing his eyes. "Not that I was complainin'."
You giggled. "Yep, the bunny suit is retired. Should've enjoyed it while it was still here."
"Oh, I sure did, sweetheart." He said as he leaned in closer to you. "Though-"
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a screeching voice. "Clifford Booth get the fuck away from my actress !" Frances.
He got off your chair. "Miss Adams, how are you doing on this fine day ?" Cliff said, his tone obviously trying to annoy her.
They knew each other. How ? That you didn't know.
"Better once you fuck off." Your manager answered, her voice full of spite. "What the hell do you think you're doing ?"
"I'm just having a nice chat with Miss L/N about her last film. That playboy one. Am I in trouble ?" He kept his cool, finding amusement in all this almost.
"You leave her alone or I'll have her get a restraining order against you." Frances said, dead serious. You'd never seen her this mad before, you were almost too afraid to say anything.
Cliff gave her a dry laugh as he slowly walked away. "See you around, darlin'." He said looking straight at you, dismissing Frances fully.
"You better fucking not !" She shouted as Cliff disappeared from view.
"Fran, what's the problem ? We were just talki-"
"He was the one you were with outside yesterday." She stated plainly.
"Yes ?" You said, not understanding how this was such a grave offence. "He was waiting for Rick Dalton. It was a coincidence. He's just being nice to-" You were cut off once again.
"You steer away from him. He's no good."
"Why ? What's your problem with him ?"
"That prick killed his wife." She dropped the bomb.
"What ?"
"Everyone knows it. A 'boating accident' they said. Unless you want to be the next one six feet under, you don't even look at him." She ordered you with complete seriousness.
As it turns out, you were one of the few people in Hollywood not aware of who Cliff Booth really was. After asking Frances for some more details, she explained that on that fateful day he'd gone on a boat ride with his wife, Billie, and when they came back she had been stabbed trough the stomach by a harpoon. Gruesome indeed. The thought made you shiver, had you been cozying up to a murderer ? Even if your two interactions had been brief, he'd left his mark on you. He'd partially occupied your mind since your last talk the evening prior.
You sighed as Frances lead you to a designated spot outside for your interview. You shook hands with your interviewer, Dean Farrow and sat down on the actor's chair in front of him. As he introduced you to the camera, you spotted far behind him Rick Dalton walking into a building, followed obviously by his stuntman. The door was opened for them by a security guard. Rick seemed to be talking to himself, rehearsing line probably, and Cliff looked as unbothered as ever.
"So Miss L/N, how does it feel to finally have broken into the world of cinema ?" Farrow asked with that fake news reposter kindness.
You quickly composed yourself and began answering his question. "It's been such a rewarding feeling after all the hard work I put into my career. I mean just a few years ago I was serving tables at a bad restaurant." You laughed.
"Talking about waitressing, how do you feel about the controversial nature of your character's profession ?"
"I think she's trying to live the best life she can with the cards she was dealt. I mean, I don't want to reveal what happens in the movie, but she uses the only tool she feels she has to her advantage. But this is a comedy, I hope people don't take it too seriously."
"Yes, it seems like audiences are divided on their opinions regarding the film. On one hand the younger crowds seem to think this movie will be an empowering tale, on the other, less open viewers believe this could affect the youth into rushing to sign up for jobs at the Playboy mansion."
"All I have to say about the topic is that this is a film, we don't want to encourage anyone to do anything. I think viewers need to keep in mind this is a very romanticized version of that culture, we do not see all the struggles my character probably goes through. At the same time, I do not think we should be mocking anyone's who's chosen that line of work."
After a handful of questions, Farrow ended his segment by telling viewers the release date of the film. The camera turned towards you once last time, you blew a kiss at the audience and waved them goodbye. The cameraman yelled cut and all the tension you hadn't realize you'd built up faded away. You thanked the two men and before they could say anything else, Frances was already back at your side. She excused you as she shoved a script in your hands.
It was the script for Coyote's Gambit. She gave you a look as if saying 'no time to waste'. You knew the interview had lasted longer than planned, but you doubted you needed to be rushing this much. She brought you towards the building your audition would be taking place in. Your eyes were glued to the words you were reading on the pages, not paying much attention to where the older woman was bringing you.
It was only when a man spoke that you looked up. "I'm sorry, only the actors are allowed in." That was the security guard you'd seen at the start of your interview. You looked up at the building in front of you and you realized it was that same building Cliff had walked into following his boss.
As you heard Frances argue with the poor man, you intervened. "It's alright Fran. I can take care of myself."
She scoffed, doubting the last part. The security guard opened the door for you and closed it quickly before your manager could try running after you.
The inside of the studio had been divided into two sections, the waiting room and the audition room. Strangely enough, you were the only person in the waiting room.
A man walked out from the other area to greet you. He had disheveled brown hair, a long bead and big glasses. "Y/N L/N ?" He called.
"That's me." You said as you walked towards him.
He approached you and shook your hand excitedly. "Maxwell Blythe. I'm the director and writer of the show."
"It's great to meet you sir." You said with a smile as he lead you into the next room.
"Please call me Max." As you feared, you were faced with Cliff Booth once more. You saw his face shift from bored to amused. Rick Dalton was sitting next to him, smoking a cigarette while whispering his lines.
Max brought you closer to the two men. "I presume you know Rick Dalton ? He's going to be playing the series lead, Jack 'Coyote' Steele."
"Of course. It's an honour Mr. Dalton." Rick gave you a simple smile.
"And this is his stunt double, Cliff Booth."
"A pleasure ma'am." Cliff said as he shook your hand with both his larger hands, pretending not to know you. He had a huge smirk on his face. You just gave him a polite nod.
After a lot of introductions, you were finally asked to stand in the middle of the room and play out the scene with your possible costar.
"And action." Someone shouted.
"Back again, Mr. Steele ? How long do you plan to stay in town this time ?" You started, your character's tone playful.
Rick paused before saying his line. "Until the authorities come lookin' for me Maggie."
"Well, I sure hope you haven't forgotten all about us while you were out in the big city."
Rick stayed silent. Meanwhile your character's strong shield was slowly being lowered to show her soft side.
"You can't run forever." You said as you got closer to the actor, getting more and more serious as the scene progressed. "They'll know you're here. It's dangerous."
"I can't leave. Not this time."
"Why not ?" You recited as you felt the tears pooling in your eyes on command.
"I've got somethin' to stay for."
"It's not worth it Jack, you're wanted. Dead or alive."
"Then leave with me. We can live from town to town, they'll never find me." Rick grabbed your upper arms to show the desperation of the coyote.
"But what if they do ?"
"I won't let 'em."
"Cut !" The director shouted. "That was great Y/N." You lowered your head as a 'thank you' as you wiped the water from your eyes.
You turned to look at Cliff who was leaning on the wall. His eyes were fixed on you, but he kept quiet.
"You're hired !" Max said suddenly. It was unusual to be hired on audition day, even you knew that.
"Mr. Blythe, you can't just hir-" An intern tried speaking but was stopped by the artist.
"The studio gave me full creative liberties. If I want to hire an actress on the spot, I will. No matter how late she showed up."
As the executives discussed, you decided to approach Cliff, against your better judgement considering the news you'd just gotten about him.
"Anyone tell you you're a pretty good at this ? Maybe you should become an actress."
"Never." You said with fake-shock, but you were unusually neutral.
Cliff could tell something was different. "What's up ?" He asked bluntly.
You hesitated for a moment but decided to be honest. "Listen, after her outburst, Frances told me some pretty nasty stuff about you."
He sighed, knowing exactly what the talent agent had done. "It ain't true." He answered plainly.
"Uh huh ?" You looked up at him, unable to say anything.
"She fell. The coroner said so himself after lookin' at the wound. There's no way I, or anyone else, could've done that to her. Can't argue with the law." His tone was the most serious you'd ever heard it. "You know how fast rumours spread here."
He looked down to make direct eye-contact with you, trying to reassure you.
Something in you was telling you he was being truthful. He was right, rumours spread easily and get disproportionate in Hollywood. But then again, if he was guilty, you'd doubt he'd admit to it. You decided not to think with your brain for now and just hoped you wouldn't be the next one found stabbed.
"Franny's never liked me."
"So you know each other ?" You leaned your shoulder against the wall, facing him.
"Well, I presume you know about your manager's failed acting career ?" His demeanour went back to its usual cheerfulness. "Back in the day, maybe 15 or 20 years ago, when you were just a baby, I accidentally fell on her during a stunt." You dismissed his comment about your age and focused on the story he was telling.
He could tell from your expression that you were holding in a laugh. "Tell me about it."
"We were filming this time-period drama. Fancy suits and what not. Anyways, I was supposed to jump off this two story building, but I somehow missed the safety net at the bottom and landed right on an extra. Just so happened to be your dear Frances. She wasn't hurt or anything, but you know her, she holds grudges."
"God, knowing her she probably blames you for ruining her career." You joked.
"Well, if that's the case, I'm glad I missed the stunt that day. You wouldn't be here otherwise. Could almost say I'm the cause of your success."
"And I'm so forever grateful Cliff." You said as you comically batted your eyelashes.
He noticed the way you'd finally called him by his first name. "It's no problem, darlin'."
Your conversation stopped once Maxwell stood in the middle of the room and announced that you would all start shooting in two days. You could see the executives behind him, disapproving and scrambling to find a way to make this work. You knew this was going to be a crazy experience. The director dismissed everyone and as you made your way towards the exit you could hear him arguing with producers.
Cliff and Rick followed after you. As you reached the entrance, Cliff extended his arm to push the door open, all while staying behind you, getting quite close to your back in the process.
After only a few steps on the pavement, Frances came running back to you. But her attention was on the man accompanying you.
"What the hell do you think you're doing ?" Your manager asked, her tone frustrated.
"Working." Cliff answered, not even bothering to look at her as he placed his sunglasses back on his face.
"I'll be in the car." Dalton muttered to his friend as he placed a cigarette between his lips and quickly left.
Frances looked to you for an explanation. She was practically red.
"Rick Dalton is the lead for Coyote's Gambit, so he and Cliff were at the audition."
"Cliff ? You're on first name basis with that idiot ?"
"Well, we're gonna be working together for a few weeks, so get used to it." Cliff said to the woman.
She slightly calmed down, understanding that you had managed to land the role. "Oh, thank God." She huffed as she looked up at the sky. "My hard work is paying off."
You didn't comment on her last words, she was starting to get on your nerves.
"Listen, Fran, I can surround myself with who I want." You said, bringing up your previous topic of conversation.
"No, Y/N, you can't. You've got to understand that surrounding yourself with certain people is career suicide."
"Thanks." Cliff said sarcastically.
"But-"
"Our contract states I can make these kinds of decisions for you, so I better not see you two chattering again or I will sue." Frances said, dead serious. She didn't let either of you answer back as she tightly grabbed your wrist to bring you far away from the stuntman.
Frances had a way of over exaggerating things. Although it is possible to sue someone for breach of contract, you refused to believe she would take you to court for talking to a man. She didn't have the money and if she ruined your career by sending you to trial, she'd kill her cash cow.
You looked back at Cliff. He gave you a 'eh, what can you do' look, regarding Frances' bad temper. He gave you a wink as he turned around to leave.
You wondered if being around Cliff Booth was as much trouble as your agent made it out to be. Cliff was not blacklisted from Hollywood, he hadn't been sent to prison and people did not seem to act different around him from what you'd personally seen. You didn't want to stay away from him, and if you needed to lie to the woman who'd built your career, you would do so without a problem.
The next two days could not pass fast enough. The old far west was the next place where you'd see Cliff Booth.
Wanna know when the next one comes out ? Join Nina's Partners in Crime today !
I'm your Little Baby Doll, you're My Mr. Rock n' Roll - Chapter I
A rising starlet catches the eye of an old stuntman.
Nina's Remarks : Written while listening to unreleased Lana. [3k]
Click here for Companion Pinterest Board - Masterlist - Ao3
tw : language
Cliff was not famous, but he wasn't unknown. To the public, he didn't exist. To the people working in Hollywood, he was a talented stuntman turned murderer. So overall, people more or less knew his name, not that he cared all that much. He was never one for the spotlight anyways. It was funny, how LA big shots never paid him much attention before he became a rumoured criminal. But after all, that was how the movie business worked. Brilliant people shunned by talentless crooks.
Cliff leaned on his yellow Cadillac, his boss' car in truth, but he'd been the only one driving it for years so he considered it his. He was slowly smoking a cigarette in the pale moonlight, lost in thoughts, waiting for Rick Dalton to finish his meeting inside so he could drive him home.
Rick had been his boss and now friend since the rise of their careers on Bounty Law. To everyone else it seemed like Cliff was the one following Rick from set to set like a lost puppy, but in truth it was Rick who could never get anything done without his double. Dalton might've been a great actor, but it was all he was talented at. This didn't bother Cliff, he was glad he could spend his days driving and getting paid for it, plus he enjoyed Rick's company. However paranoid the man might've been, he was fun to be around.
Cliff took a long drag of his cigarette as he looked up at the bright billboard in front of him. It was an ad for an upcoming film. Cottontail Banditwas the name of the movie. The image showcased a beautiful young woman lying on her side, dressed in a playboy bunny outfit with curled hair and accessories to match on a pale blue background. Although he noticed her get-up covered her more than the regular bunny suit. The collar was higher on her chest and her hipbones were hidden under the glossy fabric. He'd seen a short article about the film in a magazine. It was a comedy about a waitress at a playboy bar who used her seduction skills to steal from men. He remembered this because he found it strange that the picture had managed to get a PG rating, considering the nature of playboy culture. He read the tagline that was written above the actress' legs ; Bunnies, bucks and mischief. He huffed as he looked at the girl's face once more. She was covered in exaggerated makeup and her expression was, strangely enough, neutral. Though her eyes were wide with surprise almost.
He was interrupted by the sound of a car door opening and closing. When he turned around to look, Rick was back and ready to leave. "What are you looking at ?" Rick said as he leaned down to get a better look at the billboard. Cliff threw the rest of his cigarette on the ground and got in the car. "Oh... That's that new girl... She just got signed with our company. I can't remember her name."
"You know 'er ?" Cliff asked as he started the car.
"Not personally. People been talkin' about her because this is her second or third picture ever." Cliff hummed. "Y-You mind stopping by the studio ? I need to go pick up some scripts for auditions." Cliff knew he didn't really have a choice and started making a detour towards the film lot the studio was on.
After some meaningless conversation, they arrived at their destination. The car stopped in front of the toll booth. Inside, a security guard was sleeping, leaning on his arm. "Larry !" Rick shouted, waking up the man. "What're you still doing here ?" When the duo usually stopped by the studio late at night, it was always empty and they'd even had to lift the barrier keeping their car from passing themselves.
"Some artsy new director is taking his sweet time." The man said annoyed. "They're not even filming, they're taking promotional pictures for the movie."
"Well, you know how beginners are." Cliff laughed. "Now open the gate, won't you ?"
The guard did as he was told and let the car pass. Cliff parked in front of one of the offices. Rick got out and assured he'd be back quickly. Cliff sighed and took his carton of cigarettes from inside the glove box. To his left was the only film lot that was still opened. He could hear people moving and talking from the inside. As he put one of the cigarettes in his mouth, the door of the movie set opened. From it emerged a woman, her back facing him.
He took in her appearance, starting at her shoes and slowly making his way up. She wore black heels that were quite short, adding almost nothing to her height. She wore slightly shiny skin-toned tights which made it seem like her legs were just naturally smooth. As he continued looking, he realized she wasn't wearing pants, but rather a familiar bodysuit with a white pompom attached to the back of it. Her shoulders were bare and it seemed like she'd been decorated in, probably fake, diamonds. Her curls were being blown by the slight breeze, and on top of her head were placed a pair of rabbit ears. She wrapped her arms around herself.
Cliff got out of the car to light his cigarette, the sound of the door closing made her turn around to face him. It was the same actress he'd seen on the billboard. "You alright there ?" He asked as he let out a puff of smoke.
She approached him, her arms still tangled together. "Our camera broke and it's freezing inside, so I needed to step out." She nervously smiled.
"Yeah, the indoor studios get really cold when they turn on the AC, and it's not like you got much to warm up with."
"You're an actor ?"
"Stuntman." He answered with his signature grin.
"What's a stuntman doing here at this hour ?" She laughed.
"Driving around my boss."
"Who's your boss ?" She asked as she leaned back next to him on the car.
"Why are you askin' so many questions ?"
"I'm new here, we might cross each other again." She said as she held out her hand for him to shake. Her wrists were decorated with fake suit cuffs and her nails were perfectly manicured. "Y/N L/N."
"Cliff Booth." He said as he shook her hand. "Rick Dalton's my boss."
"Thee Rick Dalton from Bounty Law ? I used to watch it as a kid."
Cliff gave her a look, not wanting to comment on the fact she was still very much a kid compared to him. "Then you must've seen me too."
"So you're famous ?" She gave him a teasing glance.
"Not as much as you." He said as he looked ahead. He saw from the corner of his eye that her head was still facing him.
"How do you know I'm famous ?"
"I've seen your billboards." He could tell from her demeanour that she was not too proud of that. "Cottontail Bandit. Is it a good film ?"
"It's good if you like comedies. The studio is scared nobody will go see it because they'll assume it's one of those X rated pictures." She huffed.
"It isn't ?" Cliff teased.
She delicately pushed his arm, holding back a laugh. "Mr. Booth, you are terrible."
They heard someone from inside the film set call for her. She got off the Cadillac and started walking away slowly. "Run along, bunny." Cliff said, as if assuring her it was alright to leave. She waved him goodbye quickly and got back to work. Cliff would be lying if he said he hadn't looked at her ass. At that same moment Rick came back, only catching a glimpse of the white pompom attached to her lower back.
They both got inside the car again. "W-Were you talking to someone ?" Rick asked as he put his pile of scripts in the backseat.
"Y/N L/N."
"That was her name !" Rick said, finally remembering the name of the new actress he'd mentioned earlier. "Her director's the one who won't leave ?"
"Seems like it."
"They're still filming that playboy movie ?"
"I doubt she dresses like a playmate by choice." Cliff imagined the bunny ears on her perfectly styled hair again in his mind. "Did you find anything interesting ?" The stuntman said, changing the conversation topic.
"More TV westerns. I feel like I'm getting type casted now. Plus these ones don't have many episodes planned out."
After bringing Rick back home, Cliff drove back to his trailer in his own, less impressive car. It was dark out and it had been a long day at work. As soon as he opened the small door, Brandy, his dog, came running out. He scratched her ear as her tail wagged, happy to see him. After a few seconds he lead her back inside. He turned on his small and old television before walking to the kitchen to make himself something to eat.
As soon as he opened a cabinet, Brandy barked. Cliff laughed at his impatient pet. "We've been practicing patience." But after a dozen barks and noises from the dog, he realized he couldn't say no to her. He sighed as he grabbed one of the many cheap dog food cans he had stored in the cupboards. He ripped the lid off with ease and watched as the slop slid out of the can and into a dog bowl. He waited a minute before letting the dog eat. As soon as he whistled, Brandy ran towards her food and wasted no time chowing down.
Cliff sighed at the sight and began looking for food for himself. After a minute or two of searching, he found a packet of instant mac and cheese. He put the pasta in boiling water, paying no attention to the mess he was making as he poured the bright orange powder in the pot. As he stirred the food, he heard a familiar voice.
"Oh, but haven't I been such a good girl ?" He turned towards the sound almost immediately, it was coming from his TV. When he looked at the screen he saw her. Y/N, in her now signature bunny costume. He kept on watching the commercial featuring her that was now playing. Her demeanour was completely different, more confident and sure of herself than when he'd seen her earlier that evening.
"Brace yourselves for one of this year's most hilarious comedies, starring rising starlet Y/N L/N !" The narrative voice of the advert said, as multiple shots of her from the movie flashed on the television.
Cliff dismissed his supper and sat down on his small couch, his eyes never leaving the monitor. He watched as she looked up at an unnamed costar in the scene, her hands on his chest. The next scene showcased her sitting on a bed, joyously throwing hundreds if not thousands of fake dollar bills in the air with a mischievous grin.
"From director Arlo Duvall ; Cottontail Bandit. Coming to theatres near you next month. Rated PG." The last shot of the commercial was her lying in a gigantic pile of diamonds, blowing a kiss to the audience. "They say money can't buy happiness, but it sure does make my life sparkle." That was her last line in the short TV spot. As the advertisement ended, he laughed. She was a totally different person on screen it seemed. Her character was more serious, self-assured and certain in her role than the actress portraying her. But he couldn't deny, he enjoyed the way she looked. He thought back to her last words to him and how she'd preferred to call him Mr. Booth rather than his first name.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of the hot water falling on the stove. He quickly got up to remove the pot from the burner. The show playing on TV resumed after the last ad, but Cliff wasn't paying much attention to it at that point.
The only thing he thought about was the fact he might have to go to the movie's next month.
~
As you walked back into the studio, all seven pairs of eyes inside were on you. Your manager, Frances, angrily walked towards you. "Y/N, where were you ?"
"I was just outside... It was too cold for me here."
She grabbed your upper arm. Whatever she was about to do was stopped by her giving you a look. "You smell like cigarette smoke." She unhappily whispered in your ear.
You knew one of her many rules for you was no smoking. She had spent the past three years creating your public image and she would not see it destroyed. She wanted your persona to be one of the perfect feminine actress. She believed smoking was a man's pastime and it was not something you should be doing as a woman. Although you'd caught her multiple times with a cigarette between her fingers. So much so, you'd noticed a yellow stain forming on her index and middle finger, the hypocrite.
"Could we get back to shooting before the camera decides to break permanently ?" Arlo, the director of the film, said annoyed from afar.
You ripped your arm from France's grip and walked back to the set. You sat down on the lounge chair that had been set up for the shoot and continued posing as you heard the clicks of the shutter. After ten minutes or so Arlo finally announced "That's a wrap for Cottontail Bandit everybody !"
He approached you with a friendly smile and kneeled to be face-to-face with you, still on the chair. "We're all done with the movie, you're just gonna need to do a few interviews tomorrow since there won't be a real press tour or premiere."
"Thank you so much for this opportunity, Arlo. It's been so fun."
It didn't take long for Frances to intrude, making you unable to continue the conversation. Frances wanted to make sure all business decisions were handled by her. Apparently any talking between you and any one who'd ever worked on a movie was a possible opportunity and if it was handled by you it could be ruined.
"It's getting late." The older woman said, obviously insinuating it was time for you to leave. You quickly said your goodbyes to the crew and walked back to the costume trailer to change.
You took off your costume for the last time. It might've been inconvenient at times, but you'd miss it. You wondered what your next project would be, and if it would be an experience as comfortable as Cottontail Bandit. You still remembered the day you'd approached the women in the wardrobe department and told them about your concerns regarding your outfit and how they had it fixed for you the next morning. You doubted other productions were as worried about their actors as this one.
You put on your sweater, skirt and heels, fixed your hair and walked out of the trailer. To no one's surprise, Frances was waiting for you.
"You weren't smoking were you ?" You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, you couldn't believe she was still hung up on that.
"No, you know I never have. And where would I have been able to buy a carton in five minutes without leaving ?"
"There was someone else outside." She said, finally reaching the right and most probable conclusion.
You didn't even bother answering and began the walk to your car. "Tomorrow morning, nine o' clock sharp, here for the interviews. And I set up an audition for you." She shouted as you got further and further away.
Once you got in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath.
You'd signed a contract with Frances when you were a struggling actress two years ago. You were eighteen, in an unknown city with no connections and it was truly an accident that you met the woman. With no lawyer to reread the paperwork for you, you'd apparently missed a few key elements, mainly about her managing your social life and schedule. She was quick to become your manager, and you her only client. Although your career had improved since your meeting, she was truly a pain. Very strict and controlling. You found out a few weeks after meeting her that she was a failed actress in the 40s, she'd only managed to land roles as background characters with no lines or significance. You didn't know if that's what had transformed her into a bitter old woman.
You turned on the car engine and began driving away. LA was illuminated by colourful lights and the crowds on the streets. It was nothing like your home state of Oklahoma. Although Tulsa was beautiful and always illuminated, it never had that glamorous charm Hollywood had. You left Oklahoma to start your career as an actress. This wish had been kickstarted by your mother taking you to the movie once as a tween. Little did she know about the obsession with becoming a star that she had accidentally started. Your family had wished you luck when you left, but except for a few letters here and there, you hadn't heard much from them. Not that they disliked you or anything of that sort, simply you fell out of touch.
As you drove, you thought back to the stuntman you'd met earlier, Cliff Booth. You wished you could have spent more time talking to him. He interested you, you weren't sure why, but you hoped you would cross him again soon. As embarrassed as you were to admit it, you couldn't stop thinking about him. Maybe it was the lack of men in your life, no thanks to Frances' strict rules, or maybe it was due to the way he was genuine when talking to you, not 'talking business'. Not to mention, he was quite handsome, you'd had no problem imagining the amount of women that must've thrown themselves at him every day.
Whatever the source of your interest was, Cliff Booth was on your mind that evening.
Wanna know when the next one comes out ? Join Nina's Partners in Crime today !
Will there be more added to the story Luce Della Mia Vita on AO3? It’s so good!
Alright, so I know it's been a few months since an update for LDMV, but I've been struggling with writer's block. I know what I want to do, I'm just not sure how I want to get there 😭
But I did start working on chapter 6, I'm gonna try and get some ideas for it because I don't want to leave it uncompleted.
So, short answer, there will be new chapters for LDMV. If you guys have anything you'd like to see in the story, don't be afraid to ask through my ask box to help me get out of the writer's curse (you will be credited ofc !)
