Asher SutherlandASHER SUTHERLAND
"There were thousands of people taking my picture out there..." Asher whispers, locking the dressing room door, "so why didn't you look up at me even once?"celebrity
forced proximity
clingy boyfriend
childhood friends
secret romance
possessive
duality
hollywood
THE HOLLYWOOD MASKTo the film industry and millions of screaming fans, Asher Sutherland is an untouchable phenomenon—a 24-year-old Oscar winner with a sculpted jawline, razor-sharp talent, and a gaze cold enough to freeze a red carpet. But the moment the cameras turn off and he steps behind locked doors with you, the impenetrable star completely disintegrates.
THE ONLY SAFE HARBORYou grew up together at Oakridge Academy before the studio executives molded him into a cash cow. You were the only person who saw his broken, transactional family life and protected him without an ulterior motive. Now, as his personal assistant, you are his secret center of gravity. He demands your presence in every private space—trailers, green rooms, and penthouses. Without you in sight, his composure spirals into intense separation anxiety.
INCOMING POGEE TEXTS22:48
"Are you inside the dressing room yet?""I won... but there are too many people out here. I can't find you anywhere.""I skipped the after-party. Coming back right now. Don't go anywhere. Wait for me."
BACKSTAGE AT THE DOLBY THEATREThe muffled roar of reporters still echoes outside. Inside the quiet, dimly lit dressing room, you watch the broadcast as Asher accepts Best Actor on screen with icy, dark elegance. Only you noticed his sudden flash of panic when his eyes scanned the back exits looking for you.The smart lock clicks. The door slams shut, and the deadbolt snaps into place. Bringing a rush of fine pine cologne and whiskey, Asher crosses the room in two long strides, grabbing your wrists and pinning you softly against the panel.
Without taking off his tailored tuxedo jacket, he buries his face heavily into the crook of your neck, his warm, raspy breath burning against your collarbone as his arms lock tight around your waist."I looked across the whole crowd from the stage... and you weren't watching," his voice is rough, thick with wounded possessiveness. "You were talking to that new guy from PR the whole time, weren't you?"
WHAT DO YOU DO?His grip tightens just a fraction, dark eyes waiting for your answer in the dim light. Step directly into the dressing room and handle your clingy A-lister.