Fake - Pornstar!Levi x Pornstar!Reader [AU]

“Actors are agents of change. A film, a piece of theater, a piece of music, or a book can make a difference. It can change the world.” These words were imprinted on a little mirror you kept in your bag. You mother gave it to you when you moved away to New York in pursuit of your acting career. Naturally, the road started rough and seemingly hopeless; often working extra hours at the cafe, accepting insignificant roles in movies, filming stupid, over the top commercials. You even reduced yourself to the lowest, shameless act of sleeping with a few directors to obtain roles you really wanted. So desperate you were to achieve your dream that morals and rules didn’t even apply to you anymore.

Alas, life is cruel, and in some cases even hard work and sacrificing your all isn’t enough.

With a low grown, you stretched your limbs and pulled yourself from the bed, sweat dripping from your brow. Your current partner removed himself from your presence and slid his fingers through his hair. How you enjoyed the cool air on your heated skin.

“Uh, [Name,]” the director stepped from his chair crossing his arms. “The lighting was a bit shitty that last go around. We could barely see you. Can we run through that one more time?”

Your stomach dropped. “How far back?”

“The whole thing.”

You bit your lip hard to prevent yourself from spitting curses at everyone around you and throwing the nearest objects. After all your efforts, after all your hard work, the flagrant giving of your talents and your body, a practically useless degree in theatre and hours of searching for any kind of job offer, you accepted a job in the pornography industry. At first, you accepted roles as doubles and bystanders, but you didn’t care. Still payed the bills with a little extra to spare which was more to say than any of your previous jobs. Soon, you asked to do bigger roles, including sex scenes. You found yourself thankful for all those seemingly wasted acting classes. If you had a dime for how many orgasms you had to fake, you’d be richer than the damn President.

But, those scenes summarized exactly how you felt; fake. Every time you scrutinized yourself in the mirror, a sick, self loathing bubbled throughout your entire being. No pride, no more aspirations or goals, no self respect. You let the directors and actors use you as they pleased, and you didn’t have the strength nor the room in your heart to even give a fuck anymore.

So, for the millionth time that day, you let out a long sigh, and replied, most begrudgingly,

“Fine.”



Two o’clock in the morning came, and you still hunched over the wooden table in the bar, swirling the deep, brown liquid resting at the bottom of your glass. A cigarette flickered and dangled in between your index and middle fingers. The last few costumers departed early, leaving the place to yourself. That was the advantage of choosing a weekday to drink one’s self shit-faced stupid. Normal people always had work or school to think of the next day. Now, you had a slight buzz going from the combination of alcohol and nicotine.

Another movie out of the way; now onto the next one.

After one more sip of your scotch, you flipped to the next page of your script, scanning down the cast list. Most of them were people you knew, but this particular film was different from the rest. After pulling a few strings, the crew managed to higher the biggest star in the porn industry: the infamous Levi Ackerman. With the attitude of a street thug, he made up for his lack of romance with his good looks and talents in the bedroom. He was the most sought after actor in your department. Men hated the competition, and women loved the good times received in working with him.

With an irritated growl, you tossed the notebook aside. They were all the same to you. What you would call the best sex you ever had still left you feeling completely worthless afterwards. Your partner never even looked at your face, spoke any kind of tender words to you or even gave you the privilege of relieving you in the midst of it.

But, that wasn’t the point: your job was to have sex on camera and make it look believable enough.

Swallowing back a sob, you gulped down the melted ice of your drink, praying just an glazed ice cube could tip you over. You put the last bit of your cigarette to your lips and inhaled, slowly, the smoke filling your lungs. Soon, you were left with the remains of your evening, alone with your script, glass and ashtray. The bartender strolled by but as he reached for your glass, you shook your head and tossed him a few extra bucks for a bit more.

Maybe one more would at least knock you unconscious for the rest of the night.

“Vodka. On the rocks.”

A low voice caused you to nearly fall from your stool as you snapped from your chance. Another refill of scotch rested before you, so you took another swig. An intruder invaded your space on the barstool next to you; a black-haired man with sharp pale eyes and keen features. His brows were knit in obvious disapproval, and his chest rested against his folded arms. The longer you stared at him, one question tickled the back of your mind:

Where had you seen him before?

Naturally, in your slightly intoxicated state, your lousy brain could barely function. He wasn’t hard on the eyes that was for sure. Feeling a little brave, you half mumbled,

“Shitty day, too huh?”

He glanced over and took a minute to scan you in your current state. A slight breath of air seeped through his nose.

“I hate work,” he grumbled. His glass was slid over and at once, he took it and downed it. He signaled the bartender for another.

“I hear you on that one,” you moaned, rolling your eyes. “What do you do?”

He almost froze and turned back to you. “You shitting me?”

“No, why would I ask?”

The way his eyes glinted - it was almost as if he didn’t believe you. Still, he merely chuckled and answered,

“I’m a porn star.”

You cocked an eyebrow, letting his words process in your foggy mind.  “Funny you should mention,” you said clearing your throat. “I’m in that business myself.”

“Really now?” he took another sip. “Come to think of it, you do look a little familiar. What’s your name again?”

You sighed. “ [First] [Last]. I’ve only been doing leading...”roles” for a short time but yeah.”

Again, he remained silent. He simply looked at you, long and hard, as if studying your every feature. You shifted awkwardly in your seat. You returned to the comfort of your drink.

“Nice to meet you,” he suddenly held out a hand. “Levi Ackerman.”

The fluid caught in your throat, and soon you were spluttering over your shoulder. You were certain your heart stopped altogether for a minute. You glimpsed back at him.

For the first time in seemingly forever, a blush colored your cheeks.

“Ah,” you said, returning his handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

Levi chuckled, quietly. “That was an interesting meeting.”

You honestly felt a little disappointed at first until you remembered his first words after ordering his drink - “I hate work.” That was the first time in your entire career that you heard someone utter those dreaded words. Either content with their lives or their heads shoved too far up their ass, the actors you always encountered relished in what they did. You never had anyone to complain to, especially when you needed it most.

Maybe this wouldn’t turn out so bad after all...





“Damn it, [Name]! Why the fuck aren’t you getting this right?!”

You gulped hard at the rage of your director. This was at least the twelfth time he stopped you and Levi from continuing with your scene, and he reached his limits. The short man had you pinned to the bed, your hips caged between his knees and only half dressed, obviously ready to continue. But, you couldn’t do it. After doing this so many times, this was the first time you were ready to just leave forever. Just leave, hide in a corner somewhere in utter humiliation and die.

All because you authentically liked Levi.

As you stared into his stoic, though a little confused, face, your mind reverted to the night at the bar where you two coincidentally met; staying until at least three in the morning, sharing stories about your worst actors, faking pleasure through a majority of the sex scenes, stalkers, the most arrogant directors. For once, you acted like yourself. You were as crude, sarcastic and even awkward as you wanted. He didn’t care. You were the first person that shared a real conversation with him in a long time, and he savored every minute of it.

As it turned out, filming was even better. You both cracked jokes with each other after each cut, either making fun of the shitty dialogue or a smartass actor who thought he was all that. Behind closed doors, you could complain about work that day, sip a few cold beverages and the night always ended with your laughter resounding in your living space. No lame dirty talk or pick up lines, no pointless nudity, nothing sexual at all. You could sit in front of him in your baggiest of pajamas and he was just fine with that. He didn’t need to see you naked to enjoy your company.

For once, you felt real.

Now, here you were, ready to simply go through the motions again. It was fake, every last damn bit of it. You hoped so desperately that maybe you could share intimate moments with Levi before actually filming, but you were so caught up in just enjoying being yourself that it slipped your mind altogether. All eyes were on you now; the director, the costume mistress, the make up artist, jealous actors and actress, and more. Your stomach churned at the thought of the thousands of viewers who would be watching this in their dark rooms, pleasuring themselves or simply drooling over it, all those perverted eyes invading this moment you wanted to keep just between you and Levi.

“[NAME!]” his coarse voice broke your thoughts. “Mind if we get on with the damn scene?”

Levi tilted his head. The anxiety was written all over your face.

“What’s wrong?” he mouthed.

Your eyes burned with tears. You couldn’t even remember the last time you heard those words from anyone in your life.

“I need a minute,” you lightly pushed him away, grabbed your currently discarded shirt and ran to your room.

As the director turned to his coworkers, the hum of conversation and his bitching now settling in, Levi rose from his seat on the bed to follow you.




With your head planted on your vanity, your arms caged around it as if shielding it from the outside world. Your heart violently pounded against your ribs, and your lungs could barely keep up with it, as your breath came in short pants. Your throat constricted to the point that it ached all the way down into your chest.

You were hurt. You were exhausted. You were used up and worn out, and you were sick of it all.

And at last, after fighting back the urge for so long, after pushing down years of negative and powerful emotions, you broke into sobs.

They were loud, almost obnoxious. You gasped for air in between cries, and tears flowed down your cheeks. The emotions were so strong, every limb trembled at their mercy. But, damn, it felt so good to release those imprisoned feelings, especially after keeping yourself numb for a good portion of your life.

It made you feel so alive.

After a few minutes of weeping your heart out, your door slightly creaked. Almost snorting, you clamped your lips together.

Ah, shit, you thought. He’s gonna kill me.

Then, to your relief, a rough but gentle hand circled your shoulder. “[Name].”

It was Levi.

Sniffing just a little, you raised your red-rimmed eyes to meet his: you never thought an expressionless face could ever be your greatest comfort. He knelt down before you, steely eyes still locked with yours.

“What’s wrong?” he said again, wiping tears with his chilled fingertips.

With a strangled sob, you latched your arms around his neck, half collapsing to the floor. Your weight caught him off balance but he soon slinked his arms around your waist.

“I am so sick of it!” you muffled into his shirt. “I hate it all! I hate being passed around, ignored, treated like a fucking doll that does whatever they tell me!” your voice shook so you took another breath. “I worked so fucking hard to make something of myself, and I get paid in shit! What the fuck was it even worth?! I hate it! I hate myself! I just-!!” your words were drowned by more tears.

Levi simply held you, occasionally stroking the locks trailing down your back. Though he revealed nothing of his feelings inside, his heart bled for you.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” your voice reduced to a whimper. “I really like you, Levi. I mean, I’ve told you this. You’re the only person I’ve met in so damn long that makes me feel like a human being. I’m scared,” your breath hitched. “I’m scared if I do this...It’ll ruin what we have...what we could have later.”

You felt his head nod against you.

“I don’t want this anymore. I’m so tired....”

At last, your voice trailed into silence. He still cradled you tightly.

No, he understood perfectly what you meant. People saw him as a sex icon, not a person with feelings. He was used as a toy for pleasure without any regard for his wants or needs. He too saw himself as a doll, something fake and inhuman. Until he met you, he was afraid that he had gone down that route so far, there would be no hope for him.

However, you revived him. You helped remind him of his identity, and he would forever love you for that.

“I understand,” he finally said when you calmed yourself. “I kinda felt the same before we started shooting, how things would go down when we finally got to the sex.”

“R-really?” your voice cracked.

“Yeah, so I’m glad I’m not alone,” he pushed you a little just so he could look into your face. “We don’t have to do this.”

Still embarrassed, you attempted to look away but he grabbed you by the nape of your neck and pulled your mouth onto his. You froze before even comprehending what was happening. His lips encircled yours with such longing, moving slowly, tenderly. Everything about him eased you down to your core. With a sigh, you leaned into him, fisting his shirt. With a quiet drone from his chest,  he traced his tongue around your lips but didn’t push it in. He simply wanted to feel you this close to him, to finally kiss someone with meaning and mutual affection.

When the need for air arrived far too soon, he cupped your face in his hands, leaving your lips cold and wanting more. But, he stayed within close range. You smiled at the tingling skin. You had given a thousand kisses to many undeserving but you never really noticed how nice the touch itself was, just the kiss, with no sexual intent behind it.

“What do we do?” your voice was no more than a whisper.

“We can quit,” he replied in between tiny pecks. He still held your face so delightfully close.

“What then?” you couldn’t withhold your smiles.

“Mmm,” he pressed a longer one onto your lips, warming them all over again. “We’ll play it by ear. These stupid films set me back a lot of money, you know.”

“Perfect,” you replied. But, before you could say anything else, he pulled you in for another slow kiss. You gave up altogether and locked your arms around his neck.

You and Levi revitalized each other. Because of your soul sucking job, you forgot very important aspects of who you were. You laughed. You cried. You fell apart. You raged. You enjoyed little past times. You suffered. You rejoiced.

You were flesh and blood human beings: you were real.