So the sentence is “tell me you don’t feel the same.” and ofc ship is Teslen <3
(So, this idea of them as actors wouldn’t leave me alone. Don’t ask me why, cause I don’t know. But I hope you like this! Unbeta’d, so any/all mistakes are mine.)
“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he said, eyes wide and earnest. “Tell me that this is all in my head, and I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.”
She took a breath, gaze never wavering. “I–”
“CUT! Jesus, Nikola, you’re trying to get her to admit her feelings, not sell her a car. Make me believe it,” the director yelled from his chair.
Nikola rolled his eyes as he nodded, looking at Helen Magnus, shining star of the silver screen, who was currently being primped by hair and makeup. His heart leapt into his throat. He’d heard the stories, how men had lost their heart to this siren of a leading lady, about how guileless and serene she was (the reason so many people fell for her), how dedicated she was to her craft. He knew how with one soft smile, hardened action men melted for her.
He swore he wouldn’t be like the others, that she was just another actress.
How wrong he was. She smiled at everyone, younger members of the cast had been taken under her wing and Nikola? She took none of his shit. She flirted a storm with him (so much that even the papers were mentioning it, comments underneath paparazzi pictures of her), but it was in the quiet moments - tea in her trailer, running lines over lunch, watching dailies with James, the second director - that Nikola had fallen.
“Right, take five everyone,” John, the director, yelled, getting out of his chair and stalking off. Probably to call James, see how recording on the second stage was going.
“Nikola? Shall we run the scene again?” Helen asked, her English accent soothing his nerves.
He nodded, and off they went to a secluded corner. “You do seem to like having me all to yourself in these dark corner, Miss Magnus,” he whispered into her ear as he followed her, so close it was almost inappropriate.
“And you don’t?” she asked, looking back and winking.
“Be still my beating heart,” he muttered, grinning when she laughed. He liked making her laugh.
“Shall we go from my, “Just leave,” line?” she asked, leaning against the wall. He nodded, and watched as she changed from Helen Magnus to Sophie Evans, the woman stuck between caring for her dying husband and falling for their kind neighbour. “Just leave, Robin. Leave me alone. Leave us alone. Stop… stop being so helpful and kind and… and…”
He nodded earnestly. “I will, if you tell me you don’t feel the same,” he murmured as he gently pushed back a lock of her hair, stepping into her personal space. “Tell me that this is all in my head, and I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.”
“I… I…” She shook her head, looking down. “I can’t. It isn’t.” She swallowed, looking to the ceiling, eyes wet with unshed tears. “I shouldn’t want this… you… but I do. I want you so much it hurts.” Her fingers had curled around his tie. “Make it go away,” she whispered, pulling herself to him, kissing his lips gently.
Backing away, something flashed in her eyes that drew him to her. Fire ignited in his belly when they kissed again, her hands in his hair, fingers flexing. Without thought, he had her pinned to the wall, pressing his hips to hers. She hissed at the contact, head thrown back as he kissed her neck. “Yes, Nikola, there…” she panted, her fingernails scratching down his back.
“What?” he asked sharply, his head snapping up at his name, his real name, falling from her lips.
Her eyes wide, Helen’s mouth worked soundlessly.
“Places everyone!” they heard John yell.
Shaking her head and combing her fingers through her hair, Helen Magnus - consummate professional - was back. “Later.” She pushed against his chest gently. Following her lead, he stepped back, slightly dazed. She smiled shyly. “Come on, we’ll talk later.” With every ounce of grace, she walked away.
Heart in his throat, Nikola followed, counting down the seconds to later.
