✦ First Prompt: SIDEQUEST now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Second Prompt: FREDTOBER now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Third Prompt: BIRTHDAY BOY now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Fourth Prompt: EMPEROR CARACALLA now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Fifth Prompt: SIMON KALIVODA now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Sixth Prompt: JASON HOCHBERG now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Seventh Prompt: DANIEL MARKOWITZ now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Eighth Prompt: EVERYONE'S A STAR now closed! (masterlist is here!)
✦ Ninth Prompt: DMITRI KRAVINOFF now open!
Mini Pop-Up Events!
✦ Valentine's Day Mini Pop-Up Event now closed! (masterlist is here!)
After talking and discussing, we all wanted to do something fun for all of Fred’s Characters (who do not get enough love) — so here is our grand idea!
Every so often we will come up with a list of prompts for you to write about or draw about if you so choose! The only catch is this; you have to include a Fred Hechinger Character! From Daniel to Jason to Simon to Emperor Caracalla (and more!) the choice is yours on who to write about and how to interpret these prompts!
Artists, you’re welcome too! We would love to see how you interpret these prompts as well.
This is simply to 1. have fun, 2. grow in our skills (writing or art) and share our creativity, and 3. love and support Fred’s characters! Be kind, be respectful and have fun!
Want to join the Hechinger’s Hangout Discord Server? - send @punkrockmlchael a message for the invite link! (18+!) - We chat, we have movie nights and game nights and we brainstorm future Fred Hechinger Frenzy Prompts! If you want the inside know, join!
Any questions at all, drop us an ask in the ask box or reach out to the moderator directly ( @punkrockmlchael )
Happy writing, happy sketching and have a good day!🧡
A little something for @bumblebeeswrite for @fredhechingerfrenzy fic exchange. Hope you like it. and the best friend character Rose is @punkrockmlchael 🩷
Important note: English isn't my first language
Divider @/strangergraphics
Wc: 1148
Tw: none a small use of (y/n)
Thanks Roz babes for editing and helpinge figuring out how finish this fic I'll always be grateful for you 🩷💐
Sorry that that me so long to post this 🤡
You sighed heavily, looking at your cup of coffee. The stress of planning the wedding was consuming you, but that didn't mean that you weren’t happy. Quite the opposite, really. You were over the moon to be marrying the love of your life, Jason Hochberg. It was just the last minute decisions about everything regarding the wedding that seemed to be getting to you whether you wanted to truly admit it or not. And Jason noticed, in fact, he always noticed when you were off or stressed in the slightest.
Jason looked at you, a worried expression plastered on his face. He knew you were overwhelmed, he knew you were struggling and he knew you needed a distraction. Which is exactly why he planned to do something special to distract your mind from the wedding plans for a while… whether you accepted it or not.
"Sweetheart, I have something for you and I won't take no for an answer,” Jason started, smiling at you. “You are going to spend the day at the spa with your best friend. Don't worry I have everything planned. In fact, she should be here in a few minutes." You started to protest, you had so much to do still for your wedding. It was only one week away, the day was approaching quicker than you wanted to admit. Jason quickly cut you off, stopping you in your tracks. "Love, no. It's your day off from work and from wedding planning."
You stopped for a second, looking at him with so much love and joy. You really did get lucky with him, huh?
You and your best friend had an amazing day at the spa, which did make you forget about all the stress and every little wedding-related detail for at least a tiny amount of time. And even though your best friend, Rose, didn’t know it… you sure were glad that you had an amazing best friend who was willing to plan with Jason and drop everything to spend the day with you. When things became too heavy, too complicated to deal with, or when you just needed a good laugh or shit talking session, she was always there. That solidified your decision too, you definitely made the right decision when it came to asking Rose to be your Maid of Honor for your special day.
After a fun and relaxing day at the spa, you both went back to Rose’s house to watch a movie and unwind, enjoying the last little free time before you went back to wedding mode. But during the entirety of the movie, your mind was wandering elsewhere… a fond memory that was definitely going to be incorporated into your special day somehow, even if it was just in your vows or to Jason alone.
You and Jason were lounging on the bed, watching movies together as you typically did on a lazy Saturday night. Your head was resting on his chest while he played with your hair, enjoying the peaceful moment between the two of you away from your crazy lives. After some time, you paused the movie and sat up, looking at Jason.
“Have you ever stopped to think about the future?” You asked, eyes searching his.
“Old, full of wrinkles and proud of it?” Jason laughed, looking back at you.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” you sighed, looking at him. “I was more so talking about having kids… marriage even, that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, I knew what you meant, baby,” Jason smiled, “of course I think about all of that. Do you?”
“More than usual.” You admitted softly.
“About what? Kids or Marriage?”
“Marriage. I mean, you know, usually the man is the one who proposes and we’ve been together for a while so I guess… I’ll just get straight to the point. Jason, do you want to marry me?” You asked, looking at him.
“Damn it, baby, you just ruined my plans.” Jason laughed, shaking his head. He got out of bed, standing carefully before he dug through the nightstand drawer. He pulled out a small velvet box, turning it over in his hand before handing it to you.
“What is this?” You asked, surprised that it had been hidden so close to you this entire time.
“Open it and find out,” he said with a smile.
You opened the box slowly, a stunning ring staring back at you. It was breathtaking, one straight out of your dreams. Jason had taken all the notes you had given him months earlier and, well, he did good.
“What…” you asked, looking up at Jason with a small grin.
“I was planning to propose to you but, well, since you asked… figured I’d give you the ring now. If you want it, that is.”
“It’s beautiful,” you said softly, admiring the ring as you slid it onto your finger slowly. “I really wasn’t expecting this…”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to propose to me, but here we are. And to answer your question, yes, I do want to marry you.”
"Hello, I'm talking with you, and you’re just staring at nothing.” Rose said, tossing a piece of popcorn at you. I bounced off your shoulder, landing beside you on the couch.
“Sorry, I was thinking about the night that Jason proposed,” you said softly, clearing your throat.
“You mean the night you proposed,” Rose said, laughing.
“Well, yeah but… he’s the one that gave me the ring...”
—
On the wedding day everything was perfect like you and Jason had wanted. You looked in the mirror, smiling to yourself before putting on the finishing touches. Rose helped you with your veil, adjusting it perfectly before your father came to get you to walk you down the aisle. Jason was waiting in the backyard with all of the guests, a nervous wreck as he stood there. It was finally time.
“Are you ready, my sweet girl?” Your dad asked, hiding his tears with a small smile.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment all of my life.” You smiled back, taking your father’s arm carefully.
You made your way to the backyard, Jason’s breath hitching when he saw you. The moment he laid eyes on you, dressed in your beautiful wedding dress he couldn't hold back his tears. They formed in his eyes, threatening to spill as he smiled at you. And you smiled back, tears actively spilling down your cheeks as you walked with your father. Because this was your fairytale wedding, and everything was perfect.
“Take care of my baby girl,” your father said to Jason, patting his shoulder gently.
“Always, sir. I will take care of her and love her the way she deserves.” Jason nodded to his soon to be father-in-law.
You and Jason shared a smile, preparing for the rest of the night and more importantly, the rest of your lives together.
Warnings: 18+ mdni, GN!Reader (no mentions of any physical traits or gender specific pet names used in this! for all my fem! and male! readers, i hope you enjoy!!), Fluff, Reader and Jason go on a hike, some kissing, some suggestive language, some light smut (making out and palming/dry humping but nothing super explicit)
Word Count: 1260
This was written for @fredhechingerfrenzy fic exchange for the lovely and amazing @romantic-genocide <3 i love you finch and i hope you like it, sorry it took so long... this was a pinch write! thank you to @the-witty-pen-name for reading this over for me!
"Are we there yet?" You huffed, stopping slightly to catch your breath. You leaned against a solid tree, taking a quick sip of your water before squinting up at the sky. The sun was moving behind some clouds quickly, making the small breeze through the leaves and the trees actually feel nice for once. Though, the sun had already done some damage to your skin despite the sunscreen you coated yourself in before leaving Camp Pineway. Yeah, you were definitely going to feel that tomorrow, your bright pink shoulders were an indication of that. Yay, more horrible tan lines for the next week and a half…
"Almost, baby!" Jason shouted, turning his head back to look at you. He stopped a few yards ahead of you, watching you as you took your small break. "You okay?" He asked softly, moving back towards where you were resting against the tree trunk.
"Perfect," you nodded, catching your breath before screwing the cap back onto your water bottle. "Just, needed a tiny break, you know?" You stood back up slowly, legs feeling the heat of the long hike you had already endured. You attached the wdd as yet bottle back to the clip on your backpack, mentally preparing yourself for the remainder of the hike.
"Yeah." Jason nodded, standing up straight as he looked at you. "But, we're almost there, I promise. And once we get there you'll be able to sit and rest." He smiled. "I packed us some food too, and some games to play. Figured we could spend some time just the two of us."
You huffed again, nodding before you slowly started moving along the trail again. "So about how much longer?"
"Five minutes, give or take? Just past this hill and we will be there, I promise." Jason moved towards you, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before his hand moved to your lower back, guiding you slightly. "It'll be worth it, trust me."
"I do trust you," you sighed, glancing at him. "It's just right now my legs are killing like I just had a good fuck and we both know I didn't. At least, not recently, that is. Been a few good weeks since that's happened."
Jason stopped in his tracks, clearing his throat gently as he watched you take a few steps ahead of him. "Did you… I mean, uh," he scratched the back of his neck gently, color creeping to his cheeks as he did. "Did you want a good fuck today?" He squeaked softly, catching back up to you slowly. "Because, I mean, it could, uh, totally, you know, be arranged for today… if you wanted it, you know. But only if you wanted it. Consent is a two way street and everything…" he trailed off, suddenly finding the rocks and dirt on the path interesting.
You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow gently. "You could arrange that today, huh?"
"Well, I mean, uh…" Jason stepped forward, stopping slightly. "I mean, I had a picnic planned and everything to get away from the other counselors but, I mean… we will be in a secluded area so like…" He moved in front of you quickly, taking some long strides up the side of the hill. "I'm sure more could be arranged if you really wanted… you know… while we're alone." He nodded, motioning towards a small valley full of wildflowers and surrounded by trees. "See, isn't it beautiful?" Jason smiled. "And secluded."
"Secluded indeed," you smirked. You took a few more steps, the wildflowers and taller grass tickling your bare ankles as you walked. "How'd you find this place?"
"Honestly? Years of roaming around camp." He stopped, setting his backpack down at his feet. He crouched down, unzipping it before pulling out a few light weight blankets. "I like to come here and clear my head." Jason unfolded the blankets, opening them carefully before laying them out in the grass. "Figured some company might be needed today, it's been a long week of prepping for campers and listening to the other counselors complain."
You slung your bag off your shoulder, setting it beside the blanket before falling back on the blanket with a sigh. "Those new counselors have been bitching so much." You stretched your legs out, leaning back on your elbows as you looked around the small field. "This is peaceful, Jason. Thanks for bringing me out here."
He smiled, plopping down beside you as he unzipped his bag wider. "You hungry?"
Shrugging, you glanced at him. "I mean, I could eat." You smiled, sitting up straight. "What are we having today, chef?"
"I made us some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before I left. Grabbed some of your favorite chips too." Jason pulled out the sandwiches, the chips and a couple of cookies he hid in the bag.
You two ate together in silence, the occasional bird chirping in the background reminding you of where you were—out in the wilderness, away from the bitchy counselors that were complaining about how hot is was and how buggy it was—with the one person you loved and adored the most.
"We should do this like once a week," you finally suggested, lying back on the blanket. You squinted slightly, head turning towards Jason as he mirrored your pose.
"We should," he agreed, nodding slightly. "This is so much better than a quick lunch together during the day. I mean, don't get me wrong, I adore and cherish any time we have together… but this, this is so much better."
"Definitely." You turned to your side, facing him as your hand moved to his face. Your fingers ran through his beard slightly, pulling his face closer to yours. "I think this is better because there's no one that could find us," you admitted, lips brushing over his.
He nodded slightly, leaning in closer. He closed the gap fully, his lips touching yours in a soft claim. Jason's hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer to his body slightly. His fingers danced up your back, nails scratching against the fabric of your tank top slightly. "No one can find us," he mumbled. "And no one can hear us…"
You rolled your eyes playfully, hand moving to rest on his neck gently. "You're poking me," you teased, your thigh moving against the very noticeable tent in his cargo shorts.
His breath hitched, eyes closing slightly as he took a deep breath. "You can't complain you haven't had a good fuck in a while and sit next to me looking that good…" he whined slightly, clearing his throat.
"So… are you saying you want a good fuck right now?" You smirked, hand moving down his body slightly. Your palm rested against his hard on, squeezing it slightly as he jumped, hips grinding against your hand.
"If you're offering… I'm more than willing to assist," he mumbled, leaning in for another kiss. You smiled against his lips, handing palming him more as his hips continued to move against your hand. "If you don't stop that I will fuck you good right now." He groaned, lips trailing down your neck. "I will pull your shorts down so fast…"
You hummed, grinning as your eyes fluttered shut. "We are alone…"
"Exactly, might as well make the most of it." Jason smirked, his fingers moving back towards your hip. "I intent to hear your screams echoing through this valley."
You gasped, giggling as he pulled your body closer to his. Good thing you two were alone for the night…
Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Yearning, And they were Roommates, Roommates to lovers, Friends to lovers, some kissing, some suggestive language but nothing explicit
Word Count: 2076
This was written for @fredhechingerfrenzy fic exchange for the lovely and amazing @mrprettywhenhecries <3 i love you joz and i hope you like it! thank you to @romantic-genocide and @enchantedmoonlight13 for reading this over for me!
The slamming of the front door echoed through the small apartment, making Danny jump slightly from his comfortable spot on the couch. He quickly paused his video game, some random first person shooter game he had found and swore he was good at (he wasn't), and took his headset off, tossing it to the side gently. He heard you grumbling under your breath and swearing to yourself before he had even seen you. That in itself was a true indication to him that your night definitely did not go as planned or hoped.
You were supposed to be out all night tonight, at least, that's what you had told him. Told him that there was a chance you weren't even coming home tonight and would be staying with a 'friend'. But Danny knew better. The little black dress you had on when you left didn't scream going out with the girls for dinner and cocktails. It screamed going out on a date with the hopes of getting laid. And, he couldn't really blame you, per say. The two of you had a weird dynamic. Best friends since the beginning of high school, been through all the breakups and the makeups and all the awkward moments that ensued during those four years and beyond. And while it was great having all that history and literally knowing everything about each other—literally everything, you and Danny got way too close last year when he had food poisoning in your small one bathroom apartment—it was awkward when it came to inviting over a potential romantic interest.
Every guy you brought home just assumed you would cheat on him with Danny, and every girl he brought home assumed he would cheat on her with you. Something about male and female roommates made others want to turn and run the other way. That was actually the real reason he and Allie had broken up; she hated that you were always around and that Danny didn't want to move out and live with her. There was too much commitment that way, at least, that's what he always said. Said that if they ever broke up and they were living together it would be to hard to leave and go back to how it was. So he stayed. With you. Told Allie he was done with her and their relationship and never looked back.
Part of you had hoped and wished that after the breakup something more would happen between the two of you.
Something.
Anything.
And while he wouldn't necessarily admit it, Danny felt the same way.
The flirting between you and Danny became more frequent after Allie was out of the picture, the looks and touches lingering longer than they were supposed to. The air always seemed to be filled with this underlying tension that was never spoken about or acknowledged. Because, quite honestly, if the two of you ignored it completely, it wasn't there, was it? The looks, the touches, the lazy nights on the couch with your legs over his and his arms around your waist all meant nothing, right? And the late nights in the kitchen when you made hot chocolate with extra mini marshmallows and a touch of peppermint syrup while Danny stood behind you, arms draped around your waist and resting on your stomach with his chin on your shoulder were just platonic moments… right? Never anything more or romantic. Never.
Nights like these with small moments like this too—when you came home upset and frustrated over a failed date, over being stood up or some stupid excuse they'd given about why they couldn't make it to the date five minutes after it was supposed to start. You had given up on getting your hopes up but that didn't make the sting hurt any less each time it happened. And while Danny never truly judged to your face, the walk of shame past him back to your room was really always the worst part of the whole experience. You would walk past him, completely silent as you moved across the carpeted floor into your room, only to emerge a few moments later in your sweatpants and one of his hoodies. You'd curl up on the couch beside him, watching him play video games and lose at them each and every time. Neither of your dared to speak, it was always unspoken as to not ruin the peace or make it awkward. That was one thing about your friendship with each other that you enjoyed and hate simultaneously, if there was never anything to say, you both just let the silence fill the gap.
But not tonight. Tonight was going to be different. That was something Danny was going to make sure of. Because at this point, he was scared of hiding and running from his thoughts and feelings. He just hoped you felt the same way he did.
You mumbled to yourself, walking past him and the couch as you moved down the hall, towards your bedroom likely to change into your gray sweatpants and that god awful blue hoodie that had a burn mark in the sleeve from his attempt to light a candle (not his proudest moment, but, you did look awfully cute in that sweatshirt).
Danny stood slowly, gaining as much confidence as he could muster. Tonight was the night he was going to be there for you with actual words, not just shitty video game skills and a silent shoulder to lean on. Tonight was the night he was going to ensure you never went on another crappy date again, never got stood up again, and never put that much effort into your look to get nothing, not even a little compliment. Tonight was the night Danny was going to tell you what you meant to him and how he saw you—as more than a friend and a roommate.
Tonight was the night Danny was going to finally confess to you… assuming he didn't chicken out first.
With a deep breath and a few physical shakes of his hands, he moved closer to your bedroom door. Stopping in front of the closed door, he weighed out his options. He could knock and see if you let him inside, he could wait for you to come out or he could walk in unannounced. His hand rose slowly, but before his knuckles could make contact with the cold wood you had already opened the door in a huff.
You backed away quickly, startled by his presence. Another thing you hated about Danny, he was silent. Literally, you joked about putting a bell around his neck like a cat so you knew where he was at all times. "Fucking hell," you mumbled, shaking your head. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Sorry," he apologized. "I just… wanted to come check in on you. It's been a few months since we've like actually talked between work and… dates, and I just," he paused, searching for the right words. "I wanted to make sure you're doing okay."
"I'm fine," you brushed off quickly, walking past him. Your movements were precise, blocking Danny out with two quick words.
He followed after you, walking into the small kitchen carefully, as if to not pop the already tense bubble. He called your name softly, watching as you looked through the fridge for something to eat. When you didn't find anything, the pantry was the next place to look, a box of macaroni and cheese becoming your saving grace for the time being.
You hummed in reply to him, but didn't say anything more. You didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say; that's how it was supposed to be. Just the two of you in silence, ignoring the huge elephant in the room. His breath hitched as you prepared the boxed meal. The domestic sounds filled the space; the water running, the water filling the pot slowly, the slight click of the stove as it turned on, the flame lighting beneath the pot.
You stood in front of the stove, your back to Danny. You stared at the pot of water, waiting for it to boil so you could busy yourself more.
Danny spoke again, your name falling from his lips as he took a step towards you. "Will you please… talk to me?" He asked softly.
"There's nothing to say, Danny." You replied, closed off.
He frowned, stepping closer to you until he was directly behind you. "There's everything to say and you know it. We just keep tiptoeing around these unspoken words and we need to stop doing that."
You didn't say anything, but your shoulders tensed as he stepped closer, filling your space with the slight scent of his cologne and shampoo—something that smelled just like Danny and smelled like home. Danny hesitated for a brief moment before his arms encircled you slowly, his hands moving beneath the fabric of the sweatshirt to rest on your bare skin beneath.
His warm hands touched your cool skin carefully, his fingers grazing over the waistband of your sweatpants. You stiffened more before slowly melting into his touch, your back resting perfectly against his chest. You fit against him perfectly, like you two were made for each other.
Like to universe was trying to tell you that your one true person was here all along and that you should both open your eyes and say something.
Danny repositioned himself, his chin resting on your shoulder as his grip tightened around you ever so slightly. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, his lips grazing over your hair.
Your eyes closed, feeling his closeness before you sighed. "For what?"
"For always letting you go through these days in silence. For not talking to you and not telling you how I truly feel." He paused, sighing softly before he placed a soft kiss on the side of your neck. "Because, honestly, I think I might be in some kind of love with you."
Your breath hitched, your hands slowly moving to rest over his. "Danny," you said softly.
"No, I mean it." Danny's lips mumbled over your neck, leaving a few more soft and sweet kisses on that area. "I'm sorry sick of seeing you like this and I'm so sorry I haven't told you sooner. You, truly, deserve so much more than any of these guys you're going out with can offer. And, I know I not that much better but I'm hoping that just maybe I can show you how you deserve to be treated, how you deserve to be loved and how you deserve to be appreciated."
You shifted slightly, turning around in his grip until you were face to face with him. "Danny."
His left hand moved to your hip, holding it gently before his right hand moved for your face, cradling your cheek gently. Danny tilted your head up, leaning in closer. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips before going back to your eyes as he leaned in closer. So close that you could feel his breath on your lips. He hesitated, and gave you the chance to move away just in case. But when you didn't, he closed the gap completely, his lips finding yours in a soft and hesitant first kiss.
You stood stunned for a brief moment before your lips moved with his, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. Your lips moved in sync, years of built up tension and lingering looks finally spilling over as your bodies became intertwined in the small kitchen.
Only did you two pull away when you heard the sizzling on the stove, the pot of water for the macaroni and cheese finally boiling over.
"Oh, fuck," you sighed, moving to turn off the stove.
"Leave it," Danny mumbled, "we can clean it later. Right now I just want to show you how much you mean to me." He kissed your lips again, hands gripping your waist. "And let you know that if you wear that black dress again… I can promise it will end up on my bedroom floor."
"Should I go put it on right now?" You teased, kissing his lips quickly.
"That would defeat the purpose of me trying to get you out of your clothes, wouldn't it?" He smirked softly.
Hello! This is a fic for my good friend @enchantedmoonlight13 @fredhechingerfrenzy
Hope you enjoy!
P.s. this is in caracalla's point of view so reader is always referred to as 'she'
The palace had a way of swallowing the daylight.
Sunlight still found its way through the high windows of the imperial residence, spilling in bright columns across polished marble and porphyry floors, but it never seemed warm. It struck gilded statues and painted frescoes with all the affection of a magistrate reading a sentence. Every corridor echoed. Every doorway framed another waiting face. Every voice seemed measured before it was spoken.
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus had once believed power would make a man larger.
Instead, it had made every room feel smaller.
Another petition lay open before him, its wax seal already broken by a secretary's practiced hands. Grain shortages in one province. A dispute over taxation in another. Two senators insisting they had been insulted by the seating arrangement at the previous night's banquet.
He skimmed the page before handing it back without comment.
"Caesar?" ventured his secretary.
"It can wait."
"The delegation from Alexandria arrives within the hour."
"They can wait."
"The governor of..."
"They," Caracalla interrupted, his voice even despite the fatigue pressing behind his eyes, "can wait."
The room fell silent.
No one questioned him further.
No one ever did.
That, perhaps, was the loneliest part of wearing the purple.
He dismissed the attendants with a flick of his hand. Sandaled footsteps retreated across the marble until the heavy bronze doors swung shut behind them.
At last.
Silence.
Caracalla remained seated for several moments, elbows resting against the carved arms of his chair. His gaze drifted toward the open window overlooking the palace gardens.
From this height he could see cypress trees swaying gently in the breeze. Somewhere below, fountains whispered over smooth stone. Beyond the palace walls, Rome stretched toward the horizon in a sea of tiled rooftops, temples, smoke, and sunlight.
The city belonged to him.
Yet there were mornings he felt it possessed him instead.
A knock sounded.
He closed his eyes.
"Enter."
The captain of the Praetorian Guard stepped inside.
"They're asking for you in the senate."
"Of course they are."
"The matter appears urgent."
Caracalla laughed once.
Short.
Humorless.
"They always believe it urgent."
The captain hesitated.
"My Emperor..."
Caracalla stood.
The movement startled even himself.
"I won't be attending."
"My lord?”
"I said I won't."
"But..."
"No escort."
"My Emperor, that would be..."
"An order."
The captain bowed immediately.
"Yes, Caesar."
Caracalla crossed the chamber toward a narrow side door hidden behind an embroidered curtain. Few servants even remembered it existed. It had once been built as a discreet entrance for members of the imperial household wishing to visit the gardens unnoticed.
Now it served another purpose entirely.
Freedom.
If only for an afternoon.
He traded imperial purple for an ordinary woolen tunic.
The fabric scratched.
Good.
His jeweled rings disappeared into a wooden box.
The golden fibula that fastened his cloak followed.
He tied back his golden curls with a plain leather cord instead of a circlet.
When he caught sight of himself in the polished bronze mirror, the emperor had vanished.
A traveler stared back.
Perhaps a retired legionary.
Perhaps a merchant.
Someone forgettable.
It had been years since anyone had looked at him without expectation.
Years since anyone had spoken his name without attaching a title.
Caracalla.
The word felt strange now.
Almost borrowed.
He slipped through the servants' corridors unnoticed. Kitchen girls hurried past carrying baskets of bread. Stable boys argued over a stubborn mule. Somewhere nearby someone was singing while sweeping the floors.
None of them looked twice at him.
It was… wonderful.
Outside the palace gates, Rome embraced him like a living thing.
The streets churned with motion.
Fishmongers shouted over one another in the markets. Children darted between carts. Bakers carried fresh loaves into crowded storefronts while the scent of warm bread mingled with olive oil, lavender, and the less pleasant odors of a city that held nearly a million souls.
Caracalla walked without destination.
Without guards. Without ceremony.
No one bowed.
A woman bumped into his shoulder while balancing an amphora.
"Watch yourself," she muttered before continuing on.
Caracalla blinked.
Then, to the astonishment of an old fruit seller nearby, he smiled.
He could not remember the last time someone had scolded him.
He bought an apple from the vendor.
The old man accepted the coin with barely a glance.
"No speeches?"
Caracalla asked lightly.
The merchant frowned.
"For buying an apple?
“No."
"Then enjoy your apple."
Marcus laughed quietly.
No speeches indeed.
By midday the city had begun to thin behind him.
Stone buildings gave way to scattered villas surrounded by vineyards and olive groves. The roads grew quieter. Cicadas filled the air with their endless chorus.
The farther he walked, the easier it became to breathe.
Dust clung to his sandals.
His cloak caught burrs from roadside grasses.
A warm breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
He followed no map.
Only instinct.
Perhaps he sought distance.
Perhaps he sought nothing at all.
Hours passed before he noticed the meadow.
It unfolded beside the road like a patchwork of color stitched into the countryside.
Poppies blazed scarlet among tall grasses. White daisies nodded lazily in the wind. Purple blossoms clustered around weathered stones where bees drifted from flower to flower with single-minded purpose.
Marcus slowed.
It was beautiful.
Not because it was grand.
Because no one had arranged it.
No architect had measured these paths.
No gardener had trimmed the edges.
Nature had simply... decided.
A sharp yelp carried across the field.
Marcus turned toward the sound.
Near the center of the meadow, someone had apparently lost a battle with an overfilled wicker basket.
Flowers lay scattered everywhere.
Bundles of herbs tumbled through the grass.
The basket itself had rolled several feet away.
Its owner remained kneeling in the middle of the chaos, one hand pressed dramatically against her forehead.
"...Well," she declared to absolutely no one, "that's embarrassing."
Caracalla found himself smiling before he'd even realized it.
Without thinking, he stepped off the road and into the sea of wildflowers.
The first daisy bent beneath his sandal.
The breeze carried the scent of lavender.
And somewhere ahead, entirely unaware that history itself had just wandered into her meadow, the young woman sighed as another handful of blossoms slipped through her fingers.
Caracalla reached the overturned basket just as its owner managed to rescue a bundle of rosemary, only for three stems of chamomile to escape her grasp and drift lazily back into the grass.
She stared after them with theatrical resignation.
"I think," she announced to the flowers themselves, "I've officially been defeated."
He crouched without a word and retrieved the runaway stems before the breeze could claim them again.
"There."
She looked up.
For the first time, he could properly see her.
Sunlight caught the loose wisps of hair that had escaped whatever practical style she'd attempted that morning. A smear of dirt decorated one cheek, and tiny white petals clung stubbornly to her sleeves. She looked as though she'd walked straight out of the meadow itself, stitched together from earth and sunshine.
Her smile arrived quickly, genuine and entirely unburdened.
"My hero."
Caracalla couldn't remember the last time someone had called him that without irony or obligation.
"You looked like you had matters well in hand."
"I did," she replied gravely. "Then the basket mutinied."
He glanced at the wicker basket.
"It does appear particularly rebellious."
"It waits until I'm carrying entirely too much before making its move."
She accepted the herbs from him, then extended a hand without hesitation.
"My name is Y/N."
Caracalla's eyes flickered to her outstretched hand.
No bow. No hesitation. No searching his face for permission.
Just an introduction.
He took her hand.
"I’m… Marcus."
The lie wasn't complete.
It was simply... incomplete.
"Thank you for rescuing my chamomile, Marcus."
"It seemed deserving of rescue."
"It really was."
Her expression remained wonderfully serious for nearly three seconds before she laughed.
It startled him into laughing too.
The sound felt strange leaving his chest, rusty from lack of use.
Together they began gathering the scattered flowers.
The silence between them never felt uncomfortable.
She worked with practiced hands, separating herbs into neat little bundles.
"Lavender."
She placed one bundle into the basket.
"Rosemary."
Another.
"Yarrow."
Caracalla handed her a cluster of tiny white blossoms.
"What are these?"
She smiled.
"Daucus carota."
"You know every one?"
"My grandmother says every flower has a story."
"And do they?"
"I think people simply stopped listening."
He considered that.
Perhaps she'd say the same of emperors.
Though she didn't know she was speaking to one.
"What brings you out here?" she asked after a while.
"I needed..."
He paused.
What had brought him here?
Escape?
Silence?
A day without petitions?
"...fresh air."
She nodded as though that made perfect sense.
"I come whenever life gets too loud."
"You find flowers quieter than people?"
"Flowers never expect anything from me."
Caracalla lowered his gaze.
No.
They didn't.
The basket was finally full once more.
She stood, brushing grass from her skirts.
"My grandmother will think I got distracted again."
"Did you?"
"Obviously."
She smiled at him.
"But this time I have an excuse."
Caracalla expected that to be the end of it.
Instead, she adjusted the basket onto one hip and asked, almost as an afterthought,
"Are you hungry?"
He blinked.
"...What?"
"I asked if you were hungry."
"I heard you."
"Then?"
He couldn't remember anyone asking him such a simple question.
Not servants.
Not senators.
Meals simply appeared.
No one asked whether he wanted company.
Or whether he'd eaten at all.
"I suppose I am."
"Good."
She nodded decisively.
"I made too much bread."
"You planned that?"
"No."
She grinned.
"I always make too much.”
Her grandmother's cottage sat at the edge of an olive grove, shaded by an enormous fig tree.
It wasn't grand.
It wasn't even particularly remarkable.
Its walls were sun-warmed stone, its roof patched in places with newer terracotta tiles, and herbs hung drying beneath the porch.
Caracalla thought it might be the most peaceful place he'd ever seen.
A tiny gray cat lounged in the doorway.
It regarded him with immense suspicion.
She pointed.
“That's Minerva."
"The cat?"
"The tyrant."
As if understanding she'd been discussed, Minerva stood, stretched dramatically, then wandered away without acknowledging either of them.
"I see what you mean."
"She allows us to live here."
Caracalla smiled.
The cottage smelled of baking bread and thyme.
She disappeared inside for only a moment before returning with a cloth bundle and two clay cups.
"My grandmother's visiting neighbors."
"So we're stealing her lunch?"
"I baked it."
"So you're stealing your own lunch."
"Exactly."
They settled beneath the fig tree.
Bread.
Goat cheese.
Fresh figs.
Honey.
Olives.
Nothing served on silver.
Nothing announced by servants.
It tasted better than half the feasts he'd attended.
Perhaps because no one watched him eat.
"So," She said between bites, "what do you do?"
Caracalla nearly choked on his bread.
"What?"
"For work."
"...It's complicated."
"Those are usually the interesting jobs."
"I manage people."
She laughed.
"No one manages people."
"I've tried."
"And?"
"They rarely cooperate."
"I could've told you that."
He found himself smiling again.
"What about you?"
"I help my grandmother."
"With herbs?"
"And deliveries."
She gestured toward the basket.
"Half these flowers become medicine."
"The other half?"
"Pretty things deserve to exist without purpose."
Caracalla looked toward the meadow.
How many years had it been since he'd allowed himself something without purpose?
Every decision was measured.
Every appearance calculated.
Even smiles carried political weight.
"You look sad."
The words landed so gently they almost escaped him.
"I do?"
"A little."
He stared at his untouched cup.
"I didn't mean to."
"You don't have to mean to."
Silence settled between them.
Not awkward.
Simply patient.
"You know," She said eventually, "my grandmother says some people carry invisible armor."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Armor?"
"The kind that protects you so well it also keeps everyone else out."
Caracalla looked away.
The breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
"I think," she continued softly, "that yours must be very heavy."
His throat tightened.
If she knew.
If she knew who sat beside her.
The armor wasn't invisible.
It was marble halls.
Golden eagles.
Purple robes.
An empire.
"I suppose," he admitted quietly, "it is."
She didn't ask why.
She simply tore another piece of bread and offered him half.
It was such a small gesture.
Yet something inside him eased.
The afternoon drifted onward.
She insisted he accompany her back into the meadow.
"There are still flowers worth picking."
"I thought your basket was full."
"It is."
"So why are we collecting more?"
She looked genuinely puzzled.
"Because they're beautiful."
He couldn't argue with that.
She wandered barefoot through the grass, humming some tune he didn't recognize.
Caracalla followed at a slower pace.
She stopped every few moments to point out something he'd never have noticed.
A butterfly resting beneath a leaf.
A rabbit trail through the tall grass.
Tiny blue flowers growing between stones.
"The world hides lovely things," she said.
"You just have to slow down enough to notice."
He wondered when he'd stopped looking.
Perhaps years ago.
Perhaps the day he became emperor.
She suddenly gasped.
"What?"
"Stand still."
Caracalla froze.
She circled him once.
Twice.
Then reached carefully into his hair.
His heart lurched.
A tiny white daisy emerged between her fingers.
She held it triumphantly.
"You've been wearing this since the meadow."
He stared.
"...I have?"
"I was wondering how long it would take you to notice."
He laughed.
"I suppose not long enough."
She tucked the flower behind her own ear.
"There."
"It suits you better."
"I wasn't asking."
For a fleeting instant, he forgot entirely that beyond the olive groves and rolling fields, Rome waited with its endless demands. Here, he was not the emperor balancing an empire on his shoulders. He was simply Marcus, a man with dust on his sandals, laughter in his chest, and the lingering scent of wildflowers carried on the summer breeze.
Neither of them noticed, far down the road, the faint glint of sunlight catching on polished armor as a small party of riders searched the countryside.
The afternoon stretched toward evening with the languid certainty of summer.
The sun had begun its slow descent, softening the harsh brilliance of midday into liquid gold that spilled across the meadow. Shadows lengthened beneath the olive trees, and the air carried the sweet perfume of crushed grass and blooming lavender.
She had somehow convinced Caracalla that weaving flower crowns was an essential skill.
"It absolutely is," she insisted as she knelt in the grass, nimble fingers threading daisy stems together. "You never know when you'll need one."
"I cannot imagine a circumstance in which that would become necessary."
"That's because you've never had one."
"I fail to see the connection."
She gave him a look that suggested he was missing something terribly obvious.
"Everything is better with a flower crown."
Caracalla glanced down at the mangled collection of stems in his own hands.
"I believe mine has declared independence."
She laughed, leaning over to inspect his work.
"Oh..."
"That bad?"
"I'm trying to decide if it's a crown or a very determined shrub."
He looked at it, then back at her.
"I was never taught."
"Clearly."
She shifted closer until their shoulders nearly brushed.
"Here."
Without asking, she gently took his hands in hers.
"They're too tight," she explained. "Flowers aren't soldiers. If you force them into place, they'll break."
Caracalla watched as she loosened his grip, guiding his fingers with infinite patience.
"You have to leave them room."
The words were about flowers.
He suspected they were about far more than that.
"There," she said after a moment. "Try again."
This time, the stems bent instead of snapping.
"Better."
"Barely."
"It's a beginning."
He smiled.
Perhaps it was.
By the time the crown was finished, it was delightfully uneven.
Several daisies pointed in questionable directions, and one poppy sat proudly where no poppy ought to be.
Caracalla regarded it critically.
"It appears to have survived a small war."
"I think it has character."
"I think it's lopsided."
"So are most people."
Before he could protest, she reached forward and settled the crown atop his golden curls.
"There."
He instinctively reached to remove it.
"Leave it."
"I look ridiculous."
"You look happy."
His hand stilled.
Happy.
The word settled over him like the evening breeze.
How long had it been since anyone had described him that way?
He searched his memory and found... nothing.
Not in years.
Perhaps not since childhood.
She stepped back to admire her handiwork.
"It suits you."
He laughed softly.
"I've worn heavier crowns."
"I imagine you have."
If only she knew.
They wandered without purpose.
She gathered sprigs of thyme while Marcus carried the basket.
They skipped stones across the stream until she declared him unfairly talented after his sixth skip.
He insisted it was luck.
She called him a terrible liar.
A pair of swallows swooped low over the water.
The little gray cat, Minerva, appeared from nowhere, accepted precisely one scratch beneath the chin from Caracalla, then wandered off again as though she'd done him a tremendous favor.
"I think she likes you."
"I thought she tolerated us."
"That's practically affection."
Caracalla chuckled.
The sound came easier now.
Less surprising.
More familiar.
As the sun kissed the horizon, they returned to the crest of the meadow.
Rome shimmered faintly in the distance, its temples catching the last light.
She followed his gaze.
"You've been looking toward the city all day."
"I have?"
"As though something there keeps calling you back."
He was quiet for a long while.
"Perhaps it does."
"Do you have family there?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"A wife?"
"No."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"I don't think she'd like me much."
He blinked.
"What?"
"If you had one."
"Why?"
"Because you've smiled more today than you probably have in months."
Caracalla felt something tighten painfully in his chest.
"You notice too much."
"My grandmother says people are gardens."
"And?"
"If you pay attention, they'll tell you what they need."
He looked out across the wildflowers.
"And what do you think I need?"
She smiled sadly.
"Rest."
The thunder of hooves shattered the quiet.
Caracalla was on his feet before he realized he'd moved.
A dozen riders crested the hill.
Their armor flashed in the fading sunlight.
The crimson crests of the Praetorian Guard were unmistakable.
Her smile faded.
The riders reached them in moments.
Before the horses had fully stopped, the captain dismounted and dropped to one knee.
"My Emperor."
Silence.
The word seemed to echo across the meadow.
She looked from the kneeling captain...
...to the soldiers...
...to Caracalla.
No.
Not Marcus.
The Emperor.
Every odd answer.
Every careful omission.
Every moment he'd paused before speaking.
Understanding washed over her face with heartbreaking clarity.
"You..." she whispered.
Caracalla couldn't meet her eyes.
"I should have told you."
"You said your name was Marcus."
"It is."
"You let me think..."
"I know."
The captain remained kneeling.
"The Senate has been searching for you all day. There are urgent matters requiring your attention."
Of course there were.
There always were.
Caracalla looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
She stared at him for another long moment.
Then, unexpectedly, she sighed.
"So."
He waited.
"That's why you didn't know how to braid flowers."
He blinked.
"What?"
"You've probably had servants dressing you your whole life."
A startled laugh escaped him.
Real.
Bright.
Unrestrained.
The captain looked utterly bewildered.
She folded her arms.
"I spent all afternoon wondering how a grown man could be so spectacularly bad at flower crowns."
Caracalla laughed harder than he had in years.
"So it wasn't because I was hopeless?"
"Oh, you were hopeless."
She stepped closer.
"But now it makes sense."
The laughter faded into something quieter.
Something gentler.
"I never meant to deceive you."
"I know."
"You aren't angry?"
She considered the question.
"I'm disappointed."
His heart sank.
"Not because you're the emperor."
She reached up and carefully straightened one crooked daisy in the flower crown still resting on his head.
"Because I don't know whether anything you told me today belonged to Marcus... or to Caracalla."
He swallowed.
"Everything I told you was true."
Her eyes searched his.
"The happiest part of today?"
"The truest part."
"And your name?"
"Marcus."
She smiled.
Small.
Bittersweet.
"I think I liked meeting Marcus."
"So did I."
For just a heartbeat, the empire disappeared again.
There was no Senate.
No palace.
No waiting petitions.
Only a man and a woman standing in a meadow painted gold by the setting sun.
Then duty returned.
It always did.
Caracalla removed the flower crown from his head.
The daisies were already beginning to wilt.
He turned it over carefully in his hands.
It would never last.
Tomorrow, perhaps the next day, the petals would dry, the stems would become brittle, and it would crumble to dust.
Still...
He folded it with extraordinary care and tucked it inside his cloak, over his heart.
The captain rose, still looking thoroughly confused by the entire exchange.
"My Emperor..."
Caracalla mounted his horse.
He looked down at her one last time.
"I hope," he said quietly, "your grandmother never runs out of flowers."
She smiled through shining eyes.
"I hope," she replied, "you remember to stop and notice them."
He inclined his head.
Not the practiced nod of an emperor acknowledging a subject.
The grateful farewell of a man leaving behind the best day of his life.
Then he turned toward Rome.
Several days later, the Senate met as usual.
Petitions were heard.
Arguments were settled.
Decrees were signed.
Life resumed its relentless rhythm.
Halfway through the proceedings, one elderly senator frowned.
"My Emperor..."
Caracalla looked up.
"There appear to be... flower petals on your robes."
A tiny white daisy petal drifted onto the polished marble floor.
The emperor glanced down.
For the briefest instant, the corners of his mouth lifted.
"Leave them."
No one questioned him.
No one understood.
Only Caracalla knew that beneath the weight of purple silk and a crown of gold, hidden safely within the folds of his cloak, rested another crown.
One woven from wildflowers.
One made by gentle hands.
One that had asked nothing of him except to be himself.
The gold crown belonged to Rome.
But the one made of wildflowers...
That belonged only to Caracalla.
And maybe one day, he’d see the wildflower girl again.
⭐︎ w.c. 1.3k words
⭐︎ chapter tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, mention of alcohol/hangovers, mention of possible sex & contraceptives, confession of feelings, and they were roommates
⭐︎ divider credit(s). @/cafekitsune
⭐︎ a/n. written as part of the @fredhechingerfrenzy discord server's fic exchange, for my dear @punkrockmlchael 💛 I hope you like it, Roz! ily!
⭐︎ summary. After a night out partying, you wake to find your roommate, who you may or may not have had a crush on for forever, in your bed, with no recollection of what happened between the two of you the night before.
Unsure what it was that roused you, you came to slowly, as if waking from a fog. A yawn cracked your jaw and you rubbed at your eyes, grainy from sleep. An errant ray of light from your half closed curtains hit your face and you hastily squeezed your eyes shut tighter with a groan, the telltale pounding at your temples heralding the onset of a nasty hangover.
Swearing under your breath, you blindly reached for the bottle of aspirin on your bedside table, nearly knocking it to the floor in the process.
“C’mon, you fuckin’–” you grumbled in annoyance, finally closing your hand around the bottle and fighting with the childproof cap.
Once you’d eventually claimed your prize, you popped a couple of the little white pills into your mouth and took a swig from your water bottle to wash them down, greedily gulping down several more mouthfuls of the blessed water, not realizing just how parched you were until then.
For a moment you wondered how your roommate was faring when a soft sound at your back caught your attention, raising the hair on the back of your neck. Before you could turn to investigate, however, the mattress behind you shifted and an arm wound round your middle.
As a warm body pressed to your back, molding against you, you froze, your heart racing in alarm. Internally panicking, you tried desperately to recall the events of the night before and if you’d brought someone home with you after the party, but everything after arriving at your friend’s place was a blank, and try as you might, you just couldn’t seem to remember, much less what you’d done with them. After all, you weren’t completely naked, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Bracing yourself, you decided it was time to determine the identity of the mystery person in your bed–a man, by the feel of something hard pressing against your ass–hoping that might jog your memory. You knew jumping out of bed was always an option, but that was likely to wake him, and you weren’t exactly ready to face the situation head on yet, which meant buying some time to figure out just what you were dealing with–a task that felt much harder than it should have been, thanks to the throbbing in your head.
Finally finding the nerve to glance over your shoulder, your heart leapt to your throat, giving a stutter at the sight of none other than your roommate, Danny Markowitz, curled around you, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck.
Heat instantly flooded your face as your body stiffened, your pulse thundering in your ears. How many times had you fantasized about this very scenario? Granted, not the part about being too drunk to remember what had happened, but the waking up next to Daniel part.
Before you could decide how to proceed, however, Danny stirred, his eyes fluttering open slowly. A sleepy smile stretched his lips for a moment as he peered at you blearily until reality set in and he realized this wasn’t a dream.
With a start, his eyes went wide and his face turned a hot shade of red as he bleated your name.
“W-what are you doing in my bed?” he exclaimed, hastily putting some space between you before wincing and holding his head. “Oh fuck–” he groaned softly, his own hangover catching up to him.
“Actually, Dans, you’re in my bed,” you pointed out gently and Danny blinked, glancing around at his surroundings.
“Oh,” he breathed, clearing his throat awkwardly. “How did I–? Uh, did we–?” he spluttered, his cheeks flaring hotter.
“I, uh, I don’t know…” you admitted, though you were somewhat distracted by how cute his disheveled bedhead looked.
“Oh…” Danny repeated, swallowing thickly, a horrified expression crossing his face. “I can’t remember either,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t even remember drinking that much,” he groaned, and you reached for the aspirin, offering him some.
“That Hippy Juice really sneaks up on you,” you explained ruefully, watching Daniel swallow down the pills with a swig of your water.
“Yeah, no kidding,” he groaned, his gaze lingering on your face before he quickly glanced away, realizing he’d been staring. “So, uh, you don’t think we actually… had sex last night, do you?” he asked hesitantly, his gaze fixed firmly on his hands in his lap.
Shifting atop the mattress, you focused on the growing ache between your thighs, trying to determine if it was the ache of a good fuck, or if you were merely aroused by the thought.
“Well, I mean, looking at the evidence, there’s no mess on the sheets, no used condom in the trash can… those signs point to no, but I can’t say for sure…” you trailed off.
“Ahh, yeah…” Danny mumbled. “Y-you’re on the pill though, right? Just in case?” he asked hastily, hating to consider the alternative.
“Oh yeah. Yeah, I am,” you answered quickly, noticing the alarm that flashed through his eyes for a moment.
A rush of breath left Daniel’s lips as he flopped back against the pillows in relief, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from snickering at how adorable he looked.
“What?” he asked, tilting his head as he caught the amused look in your eye.
“Nothing,” you answered, shaking your head, unable to keep the laughter from your voice. “You just looked really cute, that’s all,” you mumbled, drawing your knees up to your chest beneath the sheets and resting your cheek against them as you watched him.
“Wait… you think I’m cute?” Danny asked, half pushing himself up, his blue eyes going wide, and you found yourself smiling at his reaction.
“Well, yeah,” you murmured, your face burning. “I always have.” For a moment you hesitated, your chest growing tight as you considered admitting more, but before you could fully decide, the words snuck past your lips to fall from your tongue like a confession.
“I’ve kinda had a crush on you, like, forever.”
Danny gaped at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. “You…have? H-How am I just finding this out?” he bleated and panic gripped you, twisting your stomach.
“I don’t know!” you yelped, hiding your face against your knees. “I didn’t wanna make anything weird, I guess, since you were with Allie when we met,” you explained.
“Yeah, but Allie and I have been broken up for almost a year now,” Danny pointed out.
You shrugged. “Yeah… but we’re friends, and-and roommates,” you mumbled, trying to dodge the truth.
“Yeah, so?” Danny countered, sitting up the rest of the way. You could feel his eyes on you, probing insistently.
“I didn’t think you’d feel the same way,” you finally answered, curling in on yourself, your voice the barest whisper.
Silence fell over the room and you stiffened, bracing yourself for rejection.
“You didn’t think I’d—?“ Danny spluttered incredulously, shaking his head before flicking his gaze to you. “I didn’t think you’d feel the same way… about me,” he confessed, his chest tight as you finally turned your face back to his, shock painting your features.
For a moment, the two of you merely gaped at each other until an incredulous laugh bubbled up your throat. “Look at us!” you exclaimed, shaking with laughter—unable to stop once you’d begun—tears of mirth pricking your eyes.
“This whole time we both liked each other but were too afraid to say anything. It took us both getting wasted to finally figure it out,” you gasped, wiping at your eyes as your laughter finally subsided.
“Guess we had nothing t’worry ‘bout after all,” Danny sighed sheepishly, a lopsided grin stretching his mouth as he watched you, his gaze soft.
“Guess not,” you murmured, leaning in, stopping just inches from his lips, your eyes flicking hesitantly to his before he closed the gap between you, kissing you softly.
“Y’know, it’s just a shame we can’t remember last night,” you mumbled against his lips and you felt him smile.
“We could always recreate it…” he breathed, easing you down to the bed.
“That is an option, yes,” you giggled, threading your fingers through his hair.
“But this time we’ll make sure to savour it,” he groaned, his hangover already forgotten.
This fic is for my lovely friend @idkwhatthisiseither @fredhechingerfrenzy
Hope you enjoy!
The twenty-sided die bounced once across the dining hall table, struck the edge of a hastily drawn battle map, and came to rest with a triumphant natural twenty staring up at the ceiling.
The room erupted.
"No way!" one counselor shouted, throwing both hands into the air.
"The dice gods have favorites," another groaned dramatically.
At the head of the table, the Dungeon Master pinched the bridge of their nose, already regretting every carefully laid plan for the evening's final encounter.
Jason Hochberg, meanwhile, looked almost apologetic.
"...I mean," he said, trying and failing to hide his grin, "I did ask nicely."
A chorus of protests answered him.
"You asked the dice to commit crimes."
"You've rolled three crits tonight!"
"You sold your soul to a wizard."
Jason laughed, raising both hands in surrender as he reached for the little green die. "I don't know what to tell you. Maybe Sir Aldren is just incredibly charming."
Across the table, you rolled your eyes.
"Sir Aldren," you repeated. "The paladin who tried to negotiate with a mimic."
" It almost worked."
"The mimic bit you."
"It was considering my offer."
"It ate your shield."
"It was a tactical sacrifice."
The table dissolved into laughter again.
It had become a ritual every Friday after the campers went to bed. Once cabins were quiet and lanterns dimmed, the counselors claimed a corner of the dining hall for themselves. Character sheets replaced attendance lists. Miniatures marched across old cafeteria tables. Empty mugs of hot chocolate accumulated beside piles of colorful dice.
For a few hours, nobody worried about homesick campers or tomorrow's activities.
They just played.
Tonight's session had stretched well past midnight.
Your bard had gone down in spectacular fashion, sacrificing herself to collapse a bridge and stop an undead army.
Jason had somehow survived nearly every impossible situation through equal parts luck and ridiculous optimism.
The campaign ended with cheers, exaggerated mourning for fictional heroes, and promises to continue next week.
"I still think you should've lived," Jason said as everyone began gathering their things.
You tucked your character sheet into a folder. "It was dramatic."
"It was unnecessary."
"It was heroic."
"It was preventable."
"It made for a great ending."
Jason clicked his tongue thoughtfully.
"I'll allow 'great ending.'"
You smiled despite yourself.
That happened a lot around Jason.
The smiles came easily.
Not because he was constantly trying to be funny, though he often was. It was more that conversations with him wandered in unexpected directions. He had an uncanny ability to make ordinary moments feel just a little brighter, like he'd quietly turned the saturation up on the world.
Over the last three summers working at camp together, you'd collected dozens of those moments.
Competing during counselor canoe races.
Sharing kitchen duty and somehow burning grilled cheese.
Arguing over whether dragons would migrate south for winter.
Building scenery for the camp talent show.
Finding yourselves partnered together for scavenger hunts more often than coincidence could reasonably explain.
Somewhere along the way, Jason had become your favorite person to look for in a crowded room.
You weren't entirely sure when that had happened.
Maybe neither was he.
"Anybody else starving?" someone asked, interrupting your thoughts.
A handful of counselors raided the kitchen, emerging moments later with leftover chocolate chip cookies wrapped in plastic and enough marshmallows to concern a dentist.
"You people are vultures," the cook called from somewhere in the back.
"We're resourceful!" someone answered.
"You stole my cookies yesterday!"
"They tasted like victory!"
Laughter echoed through the dining hall again.
You accepted two cookies before someone else claimed the plate.
Jason leaned against the table beside you, carefully packing his dice into a worn leather pouch embroidered with tiny gold stars.
One by one, each die disappeared inside.
Blue.
Amber.
Pearl white.
A translucent green d20 that seemed to bring him impossible luck.
"You organize them?" you asked.
He looked up.
"Hm?"
"You always put them away in the same order."
Jason blinked, then looked down at the pouch.
"...I do?"
"You absolutely do."
"I've never noticed."
"I have."
For just a heartbeat, something shifted.
Not awkward.
Just... quieter.
His expression softened into something thoughtful.
"Huh."
"What?"
"I didn't realize you paid that much attention."
Your face warmed.
"I mean..."
You shrugged, pretending to inspect your cookie with tremendous interest.
"We've been friends for a while."
"We have."
His answer was gentle enough that you almost looked up.
Almost.
Instead, someone loudly declared they had accidentally stolen another counselor's notebook, shattering the moment before either of you could examine it too closely.
Around the room, chairs scraped across the wooden floor as everyone prepared to leave.
Lanterns were extinguished one by one.
Outside, summer insects hummed beneath the trees.
Jason wandered toward one of the open windows and paused.
"...Hey."
You joined him.
"What?"
He tilted his head toward the sky. It had cleared completely.
Earlier that evening, thick clouds had blanketed camp, threatening rain that never came. Now the heavens stretched endlessly overhead, scattered with enough stars to make the darkness seem almost alive.
"I almost forgot," he murmured.
"The meteor shower?"
"You remembered."
"I saw something about it this morning."
"So did I."
He glanced toward the cabins.
Most windows had already gone dark.
The camp slept peacefully beneath the trees.
Jason looked back at you.
"I was thinking..." Dangerous words. "..there's that overlook by the old archery trail."
"The one with the giant rock?"
"That's the one."
You nodded slowly. "I know it."
"They said the shower peaks tonight." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking far less confident than he'd sounded moments ago.
"I figured..." He cleared his throat. "If you're not tired."
"I'm definitely tired."
"..Right."
"But," You smiled. "I think I'd regret sleeping through a meteor shower."
Something bright crossed his face. Not relief exactly. Something warmer. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Within minutes, the two of you had acquired another blanket from the staff lounge, a thermos of leftover hot chocolate, and several cookies that had somehow escaped the kitchen raid.
"You stole extra, didn't you?" you accused as Jason triumphantly produced another wrapped cookie from his hoodie pocket.
"I prefer the term 'planned ahead.'"
"You absolutely stole them."
"I rescued abandoned baked goods."
"They were on a tray."
"They looked lonely."
"You are impossible."
"So I've been told."
The gravel path crunched softly beneath your shoes as you left the last lantern behind. Camp felt entirely different after midnight.
Without the laughter of campers or whistles from activity leaders, everything became quieter.
The cabins nestled beneath the trees like sleepy little villages.
The lake reflected the moon in gentle ripples.
Somewhere far off, an owl called into the darkness.
Jason adjusted the blanket over one shoulder.
"You know," he said after a comfortable stretch of silence, "I still think your bard deserved inspiration."
You laughed. "You're still on this?"
"I'm always on this."
"The bridge collapsing was objectively cool."
"Itt was."
"And everyone survived."
"They did."
"So..."
"So."
He pointed dramatically ahead. "The DM robbed you."
"You are never letting this go."
"Never."
"You realize this is why nobody trusts paladins."
He gasped with theatrical offense. "I have been slandered."
"You've been accurately described."
"
You wound me."
"I rolled high enough for emotional damage."
"You absolutely did."
The joke lingered between you as the trail narrowed beneath towering pines.
Neither of you noticed that somewhere along the walk, your shoulders had begun brushing every few steps.
Neither of you moved away.
Above the treetops, the first faint streak of light crossed the sky.
By the time the first meteor disappeared beyond the horizon, the two of you were still standing in the middle of the trail.
You were the first to break the silence.
“..Did you see that?"
Jason looked up, following the fading silver trail a second too late.
"I saw the end of it."
"You missed the best part."
"I was distracted."
"By what?"
His eyes met yours for half a heartbeat before he shrugged.
"The trail."
"You've walked this trail a hundred times."
"I know."
"So that's a terrible excuse."
"It really is."
He smiled sheepishly, and the moment drifted away as naturally as it had arrived.
The overlook wasn't much farther.
The path climbed steadily until the trees began to thin, giving way to an outcropping of smooth stone that jutted over the edge of the hill. During the day, it overlooked nearly the entire camp. You could see the cabins tucked beneath the pines, the archery range, the ropes course, even the glittering lake stretching toward the opposite shore.
At night, it felt like another world.
The buildings below had become little pools of amber light. A lantern glowed outside the infirmary. Moonlight turned the lake into polished glass, reflecting stars so perfectly that it became difficult to tell where the sky ended and the water began.
Jason let out a quiet whistle.
"I always forget how pretty this place is."
"You say that every summer."
"And every summer I'm right."
"You are."
He spread the blanket across the warm stone while you unscrewed the thermos.
Steam curled lazily into the cool night air.
"You have cups?"
Jason blinked.
"...I brought the hot chocolate."
"I brought the blanket."
"You forgot cups."
"I forgot cups."
The two of you stared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter.
"I guess we're sharing."
"I guess we are."
He took the first sip before handing the thermos to you.
"You know," you said after tasting it yourself, "this is better than the dining hall usually makes."
"I bribed Linda."
"You bribed the cook?"
"I offered to carry tomorrow's breakfast supplies."
"So you earned premium hot chocolate."
"I prefer to think of it as an investment."
You bumped his shoulder with yours.
"You're ridiculous."
"I've heard."
"Today?"
"At least twice."
"Good."
The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of pine needles and the faint sweetness of wildflowers growing somewhere below the hill.
You tucked your hands into the sleeves of your camp hoodie.
Almost immediately, Jason noticed.
"Cold?"
"A little."
Without a word, he shrugged off his own sweatshirt and held it out.
You frowned.
"What about you?"
"I run warm."
"You'll freeze."
"I promise I won't."
"You say that now."
"And in ten minutes you'll stop arguing and put it on."
"...You're annoyingly confident."
"I've known you for three summers."
"...Fair."
You accepted the hoodie.
It was still warm from where he'd been wearing it.
The sleeves hung past your hands.
It smelled faintly of cedar, laundry detergent, and whatever soap the camp ordered in industrial quantities every year.
You tried very hard not to think about how comfortable it felt.
Jason, meanwhile, was pretending not to notice you pulling the sleeves over your fingers.
He failed spectacularly.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The sleeves."
You looked down.
"...What about them?"
"You always do that."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
"It's cold."
"You've done it in seventy-degree weather."
"I have never."
"You have."
You narrowed your eyes.
"You keep track of that?"
Jason opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Maybe."
There was something strangely endearing about watching confidence abandon him.
"You notice weird things."
He laughed quietly.
"I guess I do."
The admission settled between you.
Not heavy.
Just honest.
Above, another meteor streaked across the sky, brighter this time.
Then another.
And another.
Within minutes, they came every thirty seconds, white trails carving through the darkness before vanishing into nothing.
You both fell silent.
Some sights demanded it.
After several minutes, you spoke softly enough that it almost disappeared beneath the sound of crickets.
"What made you come back?"
Jason glanced over.
"Hm?"
"After your first summer."
He leaned back on his elbows.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I mean..." He looked toward the sleeping camp below. "I thought it'd just be a summer job."
"It usually is."
"Yeah."
He smiled to himself.
"Then suddenly I knew everyone's names."
"The campers adored you."
"They drew on my face with washable marker."
"You let them."
"I was asleep."
“You were pretending to be asleep."
"I needed the nap."
"You absolutely knew."
"I woke up looking like a tiger."
"You were a very convincing tiger."
He laughed.
"So were you."
"I was painted into a butterfly."
"I still have that picture."
Your head whipped toward him.
"You do?"
"Somewhere."
"You kept it?"
"Of course."
"..Why?"
Jason looked genuinely confused.
"Because it was a good day."
Something fluttered unexpectedly in your chest.
"You keep pictures?"
"The good ones."
He hesitated.
"I have one from the canoe race, too."
"The one where you tipped us over?"
"I maintain that was an accident."
"You paddled directly into another canoe."
"They came out of nowhere."
"There were twelve canoes."
"They were sneaky."
You laughed so hard your shoulders shook.
Jason watched you for a moment.
Not in an obvious way.
Just...
Long enough to memorize it.
Long enough that when your laughter faded, he realized he was still looking.
You caught him.
Neither of you looked away immediately.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.
It was simply new.
"I..."
Jason cleared his throat.
"I guess I keep pictures because..." He searched for the words. "Camp goes by so fast."
You nodded.
"It does."
"I like remembering it."
"The campers?"
"The staff."
His answer came quicker than expected.
"The traditions."
He smiled.
"Friday D&D."
"Campfire songs."
"That one squirrel that keeps stealing trail mix."
"The haunted canoe."
"The haunted canoe isn't haunted."
"You say that."
"I know who keeps moving it."
"You do?"
"It's Kyle."
Jason stared.
"...You've known this whole time?"
"I've known for two years."
"You let me believe there was a ghost."
"You were having fun."
His laugh echoed softly across the overlook.
"I can't believe you."
"I absolutely can."
The conversation drifted again, wandering from favorite camp memories to embarrassing first days, from impossible campers who'd somehow become favorites to the annual talent show disasters.
The easy rhythm had always been there.
Talking to Jason never felt like work.
It felt like slipping into a well-loved sweater.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
Safe.
Another meteor flashed overhead.
You pointed.
"There!"
This time he looked.
"Okay," he admitted. "That one was incredible."
"Told you."
"I still think dragons would've appreciated meteors."
You snorted.
"You're bringing D&D back into this?"
"I always bring D&D back into this."
"You are such a nerd."
"Takes one to know one."
"...Fair."
The words faded into another comfortable silence.
The meteor shower intensified, streaks of silver appearing in clusters now, each one reflected in the still waters below.
Without thinking, your shoulder rested against his.
Jason didn't move.
Neither did you.
The night seemed content to hold its breath around the two of you.
Neither of you realized that, somewhere between rolling dice across cafeteria tables and watching stars fall over a sleeping camp, friendship had quietly become something neither of you quite knew how to name.
Not yet.
But the sky, brilliant and endless above you, seemed patient enough to wait.
A meteor cut cleanly across the sky, brighter than any that had come before.
Its silver tail lingered for a heartbeat before dissolving into the darkness, leaving behind a chorus of astonished murmurs from nature itself. The crickets paused, the breeze shifted through the pines, and somewhere down by the lake, a bullfrog croaked as though it had something to add.
You leaned back on your hands, eyes following where the light had vanished.
"I think that's the biggest one yet."
"It probably was."
"You didn't sound very convinced."
"I wasn't really looking."
You turned your head.
"What?"
Jason blinked, like he hadn't meant to say that aloud.
"I..." He scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly fascinated by absolutely anything except your face. "Nothing."
"You just admitted you weren't watching the meteor shower."
"I know."
"The meteor shower you invited me up here to see."
"...Yeah."
"So what were you looking at?"
He sighed, long and quiet.
"You."
The single word settled between you with all the gentleness of a falling leaf.
No panic.
No dramatic swell of music.
Just honesty.
The kind that arrived only after years of being carefully tucked away.
You stared at him.
"I don't..." You laughed softly, more from surprise than amusement. "Jason..."
"I know."
"You know what?"
"That probably wasn't the smoothest way to say that."
A reluctant smile tugged at your lips.
"No."
"I've had better moments."
"You really have."
"I had a speech."
"You had a speech?"
"I did."
"Where is it now?"
"Gone."
He gestured vaguely toward the sky.
"Somewhere between that meteor and my ability to form coherent sentences."
That earned a real laugh.
Jason smiled, though it carried a nervous edge you'd almost never seen from him.
"I wasn't planning to tell you tonight."
You weren't?"
"No."
"What was the plan?"
"I didn't have one."
"You just said you had a speech."
"I had words."
"That's different?"
"I was hoping they'd become a plan eventually."
You laughed again, shaking your head.
"You are unbelievable."
"I've been informed."
"But..." His smile faded into something quieter. "I also realized I couldn't keep pretending."
He looked out over the sleeping camp below.
"I think I've liked you for a long time."
The words were almost swallowed by the breeze.
You waited.
He continued.
"I don't actually know when it started."
He smiled faintly to himself.
"Maybe the canoe race."
Your eyebrows lifted.
"The one where you crashed us into another boat?"
"It wasn't intentional."
"It absolutely was."
"I maintain there were... mitigating circumstances."
"You paddled directly into Mark."
"He was drifting."
"He was stationary."
"I panicked."
"You yelled, 'I've got this!'"
"I really thought I did."
You laughed, remembering the spectacular collision that had ended with both canoes upside down and every counselor in the lake.
Jason's grin returned for a moment before softening again.
"You laughed then, too."
"So?"
"I remember thinking..."
He exhaled.
"...I wanted to keep making you laugh."
The confession landed somewhere deep inside your chest.
Not because it was grand.
Because it wasn't.
It was Jason.
Earnest.
Unpolished.
Completely sincere.
He shrugged one shoulder.
"Then another summer happened."
"And another."
"And every year, you were still here."
"I was."
"I kept thinking I'd tell you."
"What stopped you?"
"You never seemed to..."
He searched for the right words.
"I don't know."
"I thought maybe you only saw me as your D&D buddy."
You blinked.
"What?"
"You know."
"The guy you argue about dragons with."
"You are more than the dragon guy."
"I appreciate that."
"I also argue with you about wyverns."
"You do."
"And griffins."
"You definitely do."
He smiled.
"I figured if you liked me..."
He shrugged.
"...I'd know."
This time, you couldn't stop yourself from laughing.
Not at him.
At the absurdity of it.
"What?"
"You idiot."
"..Excuse me?"
"You absolute, complete idiot."
He looked offended.
"I don't think that's the response I was hoping for."
"You thought I only wanted to be friends?"
"I mean..."
"Jason."
"I was trying to be realistic."
"You brought me up a mountain."
"It's a hill."
"You packed cookies."
"I rescued cookies."
"You gave me your hoodie."
"You were cold."
"You remember how I wear my sleeves."
"...Maybe."
"You noticed when I started organizing my dice differently."
Jason froze.
"I..."
"You thought I didn't notice?"
He stared.
"You changed the ribbon on your dice bag last fall because I said blue looked nice."
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
"...You noticed that?"
"I notice a lot about you."
Silence.
Then, almost at the same time, the realization struck both of you.
Jason laughed first.
"We're idiots."
"The biggest."
"I've been trying to flirt with you for two years."
"I thought you were just... Jason."
"What does that even mean?"
"I don't know."
"But every time you smiled at me, I convinced myself you smiled at everyone like that."
"I don't."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Oh."
"I mean, I smile at people."
"Right."
"But not..."
He gestured helplessly between the two of you.
"...Like this."
Your heart was beating so loudly you were certain he could hear it.
"I liked you after the talent show."
"The one where we painted scenery until two in the morning?"
You nodded.
"You fell asleep sitting against the stage."
"I remember."
"You had blue paint in your hair."
"I found that paint three days later."
"I know."
“You knew?"
"I put it there."
"You..."
He blinked.
"You threw paint at me?"
"It was an accident."
"You are impossible."
"So I've heard."
Another meteor streaked overhead.
Neither of you looked.
Jason let out a slow breath.
"So..."
"So."
"I really like you."
"I really like you, too."
His smile was immediate.
Bright enough that, for just a second, it rivaled the stars overhead.
"Can I..."
He hesitated.
"...Can I kiss you?"
You answered by closing the small distance between you.
It was gentle.
Tentative at first.
The sort of kiss that felt less like a beginning and more like finally arriving somewhere you'd been walking toward for years.When you pulled apart, you were both smiling.
Jason rested his forehead lightly against yours.
"I cannot believe we've wasted three summers."
"They weren't wasted."
"No?"
"We got really good at being oblivious."
He laughed.
"I think we deserve awards."
"Or counseling."
"Probably both."
You stayed there until the thermos was empty, the cookies had disappeared, and the meteor shower began to fade.
Eventually, the eastern horizon softened from black to deep navy.
Dawn.
"We should probably get back," you murmured.
"Probably."
Neither of you moved.
"Definitely."
Still neither of you moved.
Finally, Jason stood and offered you a hand.
"Come on."
You accepted it.
He didn't let go.
The walk back to camp felt different.
Not because anything around you had changed.
The cabins still sat quietly beneath the trees. Morning birds were beginning to wake. Mist drifted over the lake.
But every so often your hands brushed, only to remember they were already intertwined.
Neither of you felt any need to let go.
---
Breakfast was always organized chaos.
Counselors hurried between tables with trays of fruit and stacks of pancakes while campers slowly trickled in, still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
You and Jason arrived together, carrying identical travel mugs of coffee.
You'd barely made it three steps into the dining hall before someone looked up.
Mark.
The very same counselor whose canoe Jason had rammed years ago.
He looked from Jason...
...to your joined hands...
...back to Jason.
Then he sighed dramatically.
"It took you two long enough."
The room fell strangely quiet.
Another counselor looked over.
"Oh, finally."
"I owe Linda five bucks," someone announced from the serving line.
"The betting pool was real?" Jason asked.
"There was a spreadsheet," came the reply.
"You people had a spreadsheet?"
"For two summers."
You buried your face in Jason's shoulder, laughing.
Linda, the camp cook, walked past carrying a tray of cinnamon rolls.
Without breaking stride, she smiled knowingly.
"I was wondering when the meteor shower would finally work."
Jason blinked.
"...You knew?"
"Honey," she said, patting his arm as she passed, "everyone knew."
He groaned.
"I'm never living this down."
"Nope," Mark said cheerfully.
"Absolutely not," someone else agreed.
You squeezed Jason's hand beneath the table.
He looked over.
Despite the teasing.
Despite the laughter echoing through the dining hall.
Despite the campers beginning another busy summer day.
His smile was impossibly soft.
Worth every oblivious summer.
Worth every failed attempt at flirting.
Worth every Friday night spent rolling dice across cafeteria tables.
Outside, the last faint traces of the meteor shower disappeared into the brightening morning sky.
Neither of you noticed.
You had finally found something even more beautiful to look at.
Notes: This is for the fred hechinger fic exchange @fredhechingerfrenzy
This fic is for toni aka @sweetpeapod I hope you enjoy it!
Tags/warnings: mentions of caracallas anger (not in detail)
Word count: 1.4k
You had been a maid for the Roman Palace, working beneath the twin emperors Caracalla and Geta. You mostly work for Caracalla, having recently become his personal servant after the last one… Well, no one really talks about it, but everyone has their thoughts. It was tiring having to watch for the emperor's explosive side, making sure you weren't in the wrong spot and having a vase thrown in your direction, or a goblet of wine, or anything in his hand really.
This tiredness was starting to catch up with you, you had to hide your yawns as if they were coughs, found yourself falling asleep in the hallways, even got scared with Dondus climbing on top of you once as you had fallen asleep standing. You tried hard to sleep at night but was always woken up by something wrong with the emperor and having to deal with it in the early hours of the morning.
However, to Caracalla, he wanted you as his personal servant as you were the only one to not look at him like a monster, or even a god, just a man. You didn't pity him or go out of your way to avoid him like the others, even before you were given the job. He… he appreciated it, in a way he never realised. You give him a feeling of just, normality, no pity, or burden, he didn't even get that look from his very own brother. But here you were, a simple servant who made him feel things he doesn't think he's ever felt. He just didn't realise how tired he'd been making you.
One morning you'd been woken up again, the emperor demanding for a bath after dealing with the senate meeting in the morning. You trail along the hallways, eyes barely open, the sky a warm pink and orange as the sun rises peeking over Rome. You trail over towards his private baths, the water being brought over, boiling hot water being poured into the tub, you collecting his favourite oils to bathe in and soaps. As you're left alone, you pour in the drops of lavender and rosemary, however as the lavender scented steam hits you, it makes your sleepiness worse.
You kneel and sit by the bath stirring in the scents, your sleepiness starts to win the battle. Try as you can you end up with your head resting on the edge of the bath, your hand emerging in the hot water adding to the sleepiness as you finally pass out next to his bath.
After around thirty minutes, the doors open to see a stressed out Caracalla storming into the room. He yells for the guard to fetch you to help him, the poor guard having no idea where you'd gone but nods running to find you, not realising you were in the room next door. As Caracalla paces the room like a caged animal, his pet dondus enters the room immediately climbing on the emperor's bed, sensing the stress of his owner. Caracalla calms down slightly, sitting next to his pet monkey, giving him small pets. Just then something catches the small creature's ear, a small noise, coming from the private bathroom. The monkey climbs down going over to the room, scratching at the door, chittering to get the door open. Caracalla looks at him confused, wondering what is going on. He gets up to go to the bathroom and opens the door to find… you. Kneeling on the floor, your head resting on the side of his bath, your hand now wrinkled, soaking on the water, your hair having followed your arm into the water as well.
Caracalla stands there watching your sleeping body, Dondus climbs over onto the tub and gently crawls over checking to make sure you were okay. A quiet chittering comes from his mouth as he looks over at Caracalla. He stands there almost in shock, he should be waking you up, he should be angry, grabbing and punishing you for sleeping while working, but, he can't bring himself to do it. He watches your body gently move with every even breath you take, your curly dark hair, falling over your face into the now warm water.
He gently moves over towards you, careful to not wake you, he gently kneels next to you, head tilting to get a better look at your face. Your eyes had dark eye bags underneath, ones he'd never noticed til now, how exhausted you were, how pale you were from not sleeping, he hadn't realised he'd been using you to your bones. Concern falls over his face, a look he hardly ever gave anyone, let alone a servant like yourself. His hand slowly moves your hair out of the water and out of your face. He can't help but trace the edge of your face with his finger, his touch lightly grazing your skin before you start to shift. He quickly moves his hand not wanting to wake you, and luckily for him, you settle back down again, your sleep much deeper than he had anticipated.
He takes a deep breath before he stands next to you, walking over to grab a towel before walking over to lightly pull your now wrinkled hand out of the bath and carefully dries your skin. You feel the cloth around your arm, your eyes slowly open a little as you move your head. Your brain is still filled with sleep as you hear a voice tell you to go back to sleep, not thinking anything of it you let your head rest back down on your arm this time, resting against the bath. You have no idea that voice belongs to the emperor.
He dries your arm and carefully brings it down beside you, before putting the cloth away. He then does something he never thought he'd do, he carefully wraps his arms around your body and picks you up bridal style, your soft body pressed to his chest as he carries you to his bedroom, Dondus following behind out of curiosity. He gently places you down on the bed before wrapping the silk sheets around your body. You look a lot more cozy in his sheets than against his tub. As he stares longingly at your sleeping face, the door bursts open, the guard from before finally having the guts to come back to say he couldn't find you. Caracalla's face immediately turns thunderous as the guard speaks “My lord, I apologise but I can't find-”. He quickly shuts up from seeing both, you asleep in the emperor's bed as well as the current look said emperor is giving him. If looks could kill he would have been burned in a gulf of flame rather quickly. He bows before quickly stepping out of the room while he still could, carefully shutting the door behind him.
Caracalla sighs before looking back down at you, thankful that idiot didn't wake you up, he should have his head just for that.
He looks down at your sleeping body, completely out cold, Dondus sits next to your body watching the pair, having never seen his master act so gentle with anything besides him. Caracalla can't help but be tempted to climb in next to you but doesn't want to risk waking you, seeing you need your sleep. He made a promise not to rely on you as much as he had, to call someone else before you. God he must look like a fool, if his brother saw him now he'd never let him live it down. He stands back up and carefully walks around to the other side of the bed, he lies down next to you. He watches you hold onto his pillow, how soft it felt compared to your own bed.
He slowly wraps his arms around your body, gently pulling you to him, you feel soft, warm, safe. All the things he didn't have the luxury of having you felt… you felt like home. How you didn't treat him any different despite how he behaved, how he reacted to everything and yet, you still took care of him and he took it for granted till you finally couldn't help but collapse. He promises himself he would never have that happen again, he can't lose the only thing that makes him feel human. He plays with your hair as he begins to feel himself fall asleep, and for once he doesn't fight it, the fear that he might not wake back up doesn't creep up on him, for once he feels safe with you in his arms, you were his home, his safe space, and he was terrified of what would happen if he ever lost you.
Note: Hi hi! So glad to do the Fred Hechinger Fic Exchange! My match was @keeryhours. I hope you love it Sage <3 Thank you @punkrockmlchael for hosting the event
Prompt: Cara wants a mini but gets blessed
Warnings: Smut, Breeding kink/Creampies, Cussing, Calla wants a baby, Chubby reader (Cara loves his women thick I HC it), half-ass mating press since Cara knows Reader can't bend like that, Cara is a noisy man in bed, slight somno(?), L&D
Word count: 1835
By the time Caracalla retired to y'alls bedchambers, you were already naked in the plush silk bed, feathered pillows under your head as a thin sheet covered half of you. You had always been a restless sleeper, most likely pulling and tugging the sheet around till your upper body was shown. Caracalla swallowed at the end of the bed as he shed his own clothing, his cock already hardening as his eyes roamed your fuller curves and breasts. He cursed lightly, seeing how goosebumps rose along your skin and your nipples harden from the upcoming night air. The skies were painted purple, gold, and orange; your favorite time of the day. Your wide hips and rounded belly formed gentle swells under the thin silk sheet, a body Caracalla worshipped like a goddess incarnate. He kept to the foot of the bed, staring at you with dark eyes that bordered on dark hunger. "My love," he murmured, his voice rough with need as he climbed onto the bed. His hands, calloused from the grip of swords and scepters, reached for you tenderly. He pulled the sheet away, exposing your naked skin to the fading light. "Look at you... so perfect, so ripe. Every curve of yours drives me to the edge. I need you, all of you. I need to fill you, to make you mine in every way." His fingers sank into the softness of your thighs, spreading them apart as he positioned himself between your legs.
You felt the heat of his body against yours, "Mmm my love?" "Yes, wife. I'm here." Cara kissed a long your chest till he reached your right nipple. He nuzzled into the plush swell of your breast, sucking gently on the sensitive skin before taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around it, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch. "These will swell even more when you're heavy with my child," he whispered against your skin, his hand sliding down to cup your left mound. "Gods, you'll look stunning." His mouth moved to the left, giving it the same dedication as the right. "Cara." You let out a soft whimper, a single hand going to his hair to tug lightly. The man moaned around your flesh, rutting his hips to make his cock drag along your lower belly and sweet cunt. "I can't wait any longer," he said, his voice breaking with desperation. "I've dreamed of this—burying myself inside you, pumping you full until your belly rounds with our baby. A little one with your eyes, my strength. Please, let me breed you." His cock stood hard and thick, veins pulsing along its length, the tip already leaking pre-cum. He rubbed it against your slick pussy, coating himself in your arousal. "Please, my beautiful wife. I need you desperately." Caracalla kissed your lips briefly, cock head teasing your slick entrance as he waited for you. "Please, husband. I want you." With that, he thrust forward, his cock sliding deep into your pussy in one firm stroke. You gasped at the stretch, the way he filled you completely, his girth pressing against your inner walls. He paused, buried to the hilt, his hands gripping your plush hips as if anchoring himself to reality and to you. "I hope the sweet goddess Juno hear my prayers, gives us a child we'll adore to pieces. Your looks, my strength. Juno could grant us a daughter and I'd be very happy." His thrusts deepened, each one deliberate, his cock dragging along your sensitive spots. You moaned, your hands clutching at the pale expanse of his back as he fucked you steadily. Caracalla pulled away, leaving the cold air to make you shiver, he didn't mean harm, he wanted to watch as his shaft disappeared into your sweet cunt.
"I need to cum inside you, flood you with my seed. Begging you, my empress, take it all. Let me impregnate you." One of his thumbs touched right under your clit, just how you liked, massaging the spot and ghosting over the nub every so often so you didn't cum too quickly. The feathers shifted under your writhing bodies, the silks whispering with each rock of his hips. Sundown painted his skin in amber hues, sweat glistening on his chest as he picked up pace. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, angling deeper, his balls slapping against your ass with every plunge. "You're so soft, so perfect for carrying my heir," he rasped, his begging turning frantic. "Please, cum with me. Milk my cock, pull every drop into your womb. I want you pregnant—swollen, glowing, ours forever. Gods, yes, just like that." He slammed into you harder, his cock throbbing inside your pussy, the head nudging your cervix with each desperate push. You shattered around him, your pussy clenching in waves, pulling him deeper. Caracalla moaned hard when he finally reached his own climax, never shy to keep quiet at all. Hot spurts of cum flooded your depths, his cock pulsing as he leaned to kiss you slowly and claiming. He laid down onto you after unhooking your leg from his shoulder, still inside you despite how he was softening. You could hear him murmur thanks to you, to the Gods you both worshipped as the sun finally slipped fully away, leaving the moon to bathe the walls in night.
ᏁᎥᏁᏋ ᎷᎧᏁᏖᏂᏕ ᏝᏗᏖᏋᏒ
"Emperor! It's time!" a maid had called as she ran into the throne room where Geta and He had been discussing crops. "'tis time? Now? The baby is coming?" Caracalla was already out of his throne, following the woman to the birthing room. The chamber smelled thickly of warm oil and crushed herbs. Curtains had been drawn tight against the palace corridors, muting the distant noise of Rome beyond the walls. You gripped the carved wood of the birthing stool as another contraction rolled through you like a crashing wave, "Where the fuck is he?" “Breathe, domina, breathe,” the midwife urged softly, her hands steady at your hips. Easy for her to fucking say. A groan ripped from your throat as the pressure built again. Sweat clung to the back of your neck and dampened the loose linen clinging to your body. Your thicker frame trembled with the effort of holding yourself upright. As if summoned by the words alone, the door opened. Caracalla and the maid you had sent walking in. He crossed the room quickly. “I was told—” Another contraction slammed into you, making you cry out, clutching the midwife’s arm. Caracalla froze, helpless and unsure. “Good, good,” the midwife murmured. “The child comes soon.” You shook your head weakly to no one in particular. “It feels like I’m dying.” Caracalla crouched beside you, gripping your hand hard enough to ground you. “You are not dying,” he said fiercely. “You are giving Rome its future.”
“Rome can wait, Rome is not important right now.” you snapped breathlessly, side eyeing him. The midwives exchanged amused looks as one urged "Push now." You bore down with a strained cry, every muscle in your body burning with effort. "Again, my Empress!" The room blurred through sweat and tears as you pushed with all your might. Your grip on Caracalla tightened until his knuckles whitened, even he was starting to hurt. A sharp, sudden cry cut through the chamber but your body hadn't relaxed. "A Princess!" One of the maids beamed, wrapping the small infant in sheer linen. Your chest heaved as relief flooded through you, despite the tension. "No… There has to be more, I can't relax." Your voice wavered, blurry from stress and tears. Caracalla blinked, "Another?” you could only manage a nod, eyes squeezing as another cry left you till you felt the woosh of relief, now there was two cries in the air that wasn't yours. "A Prince!" the woman cheered softly, doing as the first. A daughter and son. "You did beautifully, my wife." Cara smiled and once you looked dover, you could see your husband had been crying. "Cara…" you murmured before he was kissing you. He watched as the healer cut the cords, smiling at how two little bundles.
Every part of you felt heavy, like your bones had turned to stone, but the weight on your chest made it worth it, once you had finally laid down. Your daughter stirred in your arms, wrapped in soft linen, her tiny mouth puckering as if already searching for something to complain about. “Well,” you murmured weakly, brushing a fingertip across her cheek, “someone already has her father’s temper.” Across the bed, Caracalla looked up immediately "That is totally unfair." he would've complained more but the rest of the protest was lost when the own bundle in his arms wiggled slightly. The emperor of Rome—conqueror, soldier, feared ruler—sat hunched awkwardly on the edge of the bed with a newborn boy tucked carefully against his chest like something made of spun glass. Caracalla looked terrified to move as if one movement would break his son. "I think our boy likes you." You murmured, adjusting babygirl to be more comfortable. "He has a strong grip." Cara whispered, staring at he little fist that was curled in his tunic with surprising determination. Then he looked over at you and something in his eyes softened in a way few people in the empire would ever witness. “You frightened me,” he said quietly. “I was told you were screaming.” “I was screaming, my love.” “Yes,” he said flatly. “I noticed.” You rolled your eyes weakly, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. The baby in your arms made a tiny squeaking noise, stretching her little fingers. A small giggle escaped you, your finger allowing her to curl the tiny hand around. "They are already stronger than men." You laughed softly, though the motion made your sore body protest. “Oh gods, you’ve already started.” Caracalla ignored the tease, smiling as he rubbed his thumb over the tiny fist in his tunic. The boy responded immediately, tightening his hold with a small grunt. "Love, did you see that? He grabbed me tighter." "Yeah, that's what most babies do." Caracalla looked between the two infants like a man trying to understand something enormous. Eventually Caracalla shifted closer on the bed so the two of you were nearly shoulder to shoulder. The babies rested between you, small bundles of warmth. When you looked up at him again, the fierce emperor everyone feared had vanished, in place was a tired man whom had just to come to the realization that he had a family he loved oh so fiercely. Your head tilted against his shoulder as exhaustion pulled at you, "Rest, wife. The babies will be watched after." The last thing you felt before sleep took you was the warmth of your children between you—and Caracalla’s arm carefully settling around all three of you, as if guarding the most precious things in the empire.
Hey, hey! We know it’s only June (and already June—what the heck?!) but we are prepping again for the future.
Would you like to see another FREDTOBER list with prompts for each day in October? One prompt a day for anyone Fred character to be written about? All spooky, fall/autumn themed.
We are open to suggestions and thoughts, let us know!
Welcome to our ninth prompt! For the year 2026 we switching it up and doing one of Fred's characters for the entire month with weekly prompts, based on your votes! So, the next character is... DMITRI KRAVINOFF!
There will be four (4) prompts for the month of July, all of which will be posted during a different week (details below!) Just make sure your entire fic or art piece is posted in full sometime during the designated week (dates will be below!)
We know it's the middle of June but we wanted to get this prompt list to you so you could start brainstorming if you choose to participate!
Be sure to tag us here (@fredhechingerfrenzy) so we can reblog and share all the work with each other🧡
✦ Make sure to clearly label that the fic is for Dmitri Kravinoff as well as clearly label the prompt you used, please and thank you!
✦ This can be x reader, x oc, be a fic for Dmitri and Sergei, just have Dmitri in it — the options are endless! So long as Dmitri Kravinoff is in the fan work, that's what matters here!
✦ Please make sure to tag your work appropriately, with any warnings or triggers at the top! Any explicit content and/or triggering content should be under a cut so even if it’s shared and someone isn’t comfortable reading, they can easily scroll.
✦ There is no word count for this prompt, just have fun! Write all, write a couple, write for Dmitri in any way you feel fit; the choice is yours as long as you're having fun!
✦ Any questions feel free to send us an ask or reach out to a moderator directly!
Prompt List:
✦ Week One (To be posted Wednesday, July 1st - Wednesday, July 8th): Piano
✦ Week Two (To be posted Thursday, July 9th - Thursday, July 16th): Brother
✦ Week Three (To be posted Friday, July 17th - Friday, July 24th): Club
✦ Week Four (To be posted Saturday, July 25th - Friday, Juky 31st): Hunting *please ensure this is tagged properly!*
Interpret these however you'd like! We are all so excited to write and see what others come up with!🧡
Hi, friends! As you may have seen... 2026 Prompts will be categorized by specific Fred Characters each month with weekly prompts specific to the character throughout the month!
But, picking the order is where YOU come in! Vote below in the poll on which Fred Character you'd like to see next in the month of July (you'd like to write for, read about, make art for, etc).
More details to come for each and every character as we get closer... (I know it's only the beginning of June, but we want to get the next prompt list up early enough to allow people time to create anything they'd like!)
Thanks for participating and for being the backbones of this account, we could not do it without you!🧡
Which Character Would You Like to See Next?
Dmitri (Kraven the Hunter)
Quinn (The White Lotus)
Will (Butcher's Crossing)
Skinner (Preparation for the Next Life)
Josh (Alex Strangelove)
Seth (Pam & Tommy)
Voting ended onJun 19
We believe we have covered all of the bases here (from our Hechinger's Hangout Server) but if we're missing any of Fred's characters you'd like to write for, make art for or read about please comment below and they will be added into the next round; thank you!
Thank you to everyone that has participated in our eighth Fred Hechinger Frenzy Prompt: EVERYONE'S A STAR 🧡
We had two (2) amazing submissions from one (1) amazing writer! In addition, we had a submission for Daniel Markowitz (Thelma) and Simon Kalivoda (Fear Street 1994).
Below you will find links to all the work that was posted and tagged, we hope you enjoy reading these as much as we did!
Our next event, will be released soon and we cannot wait to read and see all of your submissions for that! - We will be going back to designated characters for next month again!
Smut is quickly indicted by a ☆
✦ everyone's a star - "take me in your arrms / you're something superior"
sorry! no submissions
✦ NOT OK - "and when my heart slows down / will you pick me up?"
sorry! no submissions
✦ telephone busy - "i pulled that tarot card / that one with the mystic heart"
✦ The Tarot Cards Never Lie
- written by @punkrockmlchael | daniel markowitz x fem!reader | word count: 2.2k | warnings: fluff, love at first sight, soulmates and true love mentions, talks of tarot cards and tarot readings, mentions of moving, mentions of toxic / abusive ex (not super in detail) | your soulmate should be right in front of you... and tarot cards never lie
✦ boyband - "now i only feel alive when you're looking at me"
sorry! no submissions
✦ no. 1 obsession - "please, just tell me it's alright / and tell me i'm you're type"
✦ The Crush ☆
- written by @punkrockmlchael | simon kalivoda x male!reader | word cont: 1.5k | warnings: tension, maybe some angst if you squint, yearner!simon, maybe kinda pervy!simon, mentions of alcohol and drug use, smut: mentions of making out, mentions of oral (male!receiving), simon having fantasies about reader | simon has a crush on someone he shouldn't
✦ i'm scared i'll never sleep again - "every bed is cold without your body in it"
sorry! no submissions
✦ istillfeelthesame - "tell me i'm your human being, my love."
sorry! no submissions
✦ ghost - "drunk and high when i need you most"
sorry! no submissions
✦ sick of myself - "where are you sleeping tonight?"
sorry! no submissions
✦ evolve - "don't get me wrong / i know it's hard to love me"
sorry! no submissions
✦ the rocks - "but you and i are still here"
sorry! no submissions
✦ jawbreaker - "this is everything i didn't know i wanted"
sorry! no submissions
✦ start over - "might not see the reason to stay / but i do"
sorry! no submissions
✦ wishful dreaming - "a place where broken lovers go find somewhere to hide"
sorry! no submissions
✦ chest - "we shared a cigarete while we were getting dressed"
sorry! no submissions
✦ i'll find you - "stealing kisses off the back of your neck"
sorry! no submissions
✦ COOL DAD - "promise you won't tell your mother, that'd be very, very bad"
Male!Reader x Simon Kalivoda (for obvious reasons, reader and Simon are both 18+) - this is my first time writing x male reader, please go easy on me... ; Happy Pride Month, babes!
Warnings: Tension, Maybe some Angst if you Squint, Male!Reader, Yearner!Simon, Maybe kinda Pervy!Simon, Mentions of Alcohol and Drug Use, Smut: Mentions of Making Out, Mentions of Oral (Male!Receiving), Simon having Fantasies about Reader, Let me know if I missed anything!
Word Count: 1,598
This was written for @fredhechingerfrenzy EVERYONE'S A STAR; the prompt was no. 1 obsession - 'please, just tell me it's alright / and tell me i'm your type'. Also this was not super proofread, sorry. lol, i'm working two jobs I cannot be bothered right now.
This is dedicated to my amazing and wonderful best friend @romantic-genocide , happy belated birthday, my love. I adore you, Simon adores you and here is something just for you. <3
"Sucks that Deena and Kate couldn't have made it," Simon sighed, leaning back on the worn couch. The leather creaked beneath the shift, sighing as he sunk deeper into the cushions. "Damn dates. Deena with Sam and Kate with Josh… just leaves us." He turned his head to look at you, smiling a little as he took in your appearance and stared, watching every little movement you made. Taking in every little detail about you from the way your messy hair covered your eyes slightly to the way your zip up hoodie was falling off of your shoulder slightly, the dark gray shirt visible beneath.
You sat sprawled out on the couch beside him, your head resting against the back cushions as your legs dangled off the arm of the couch lazily. You hummed, nodding slightly as you brought the rolled blunt to your lips. Wrapping your lips around the end, you puffed gently, inhaling the smoke before holding it for a few seconds. As you reached out to hand him the blunt, you slowly released the air, a cloud of smoke forming in front of you before it slowly disappeared into thin air.
"Always left behind," you teased as you coughed slightly. "Never able to find love." Your fingers brushed against Simon's as he retrieved the blunt, moving to place it in the ashtray on the side of the couch.
"Never able to find love," Simon repeated, shrugging. "But who needs love? Especially in this economy. All I need is my friends."
"Exactly." You nodded back, sinking back into the couch again. "Speaking of love, though… what ever happened with you and that girl from the cheer squad? Thought you two were going well and then all of a sudden you stopped talking about her and bringing her around." Your head rested on the back of the couch, looking over at him with hazy eyes as the high hit you more.
"Oh, her." Simon looked deep in thought as he sighed, thinking back on the last relationship. The relationship he thought was going well until he realized some things about himself and his… preferences. How she was just filling a void and he didn't like her but more so the thought of her. How someone else was constantly giving him butterflies in his stomach and making his cock twitch more than he wanted to admit, slowly raising at the most inconvenient times. How the slightest of touches and grazes with them could make his whole body vibrate at a different frequency, making his hair stand up on its ends as he tried to regain composure. How the person that did all of this was oblivious to all the tension in the world, and somehow made it worse each time they teased and joked, not understanding the true extent of their words. How that person was his best friend and someone he shouldn't even be in love with… you.
Simon took a deep breath, looking back at you. His eyes met yours, scanning over your face before dropping to your lips and back to your eyes so fast you'd never notice. "We just wanted different things," he lied through his teeth, shrugging. "I wasn't really feeling a full on relationship and she wanted more. It was just hard, especially since she's moving away for college."
"Right, big and fancy university to cheer, right? And you're staying here in Shittyside with me and the other losers. Got any big plans now that we've graduated?"
"Just working." He admitted, but the back of his neck turned pink at your words. Staying here in Shittyside with me and the other losers.
God, he wanted to do so much more with you than just stay in this shitty town. He wanted to stay in your warmth, soaking up your body heat as he pressed against you in a more intimate way than just your knees touching. He wanted to stay with you late into the night, wrapping his arms around you as you shifted in your sleep, lazily tugging him closer until you were nuzzled up against his chest as the soft snores left your body. He wanted to be able to kiss down your body lazily after a long day, mapping out the spots that made you moan and whimper. He wanted to tug your boxers down slowly until your hardened cock popped out, ready for him to kiss and suck so sweetly while your fingers ran through his hair, tugging the locks tightly. He wanted to be the one that helped you through thick and thin, being able to do more than just a best friend could.
Simon wanted to be the one you were in love with.
Simon cleared his throat, reaching for the beer bottle on the coffee table in front of you both. "Figured I'd try to save enough to get out of this place." He took a swig of the beer, his grip tightening around the glass bottle as he did.
"Yeah?" You asked, looking at him. "Where would you try to go?"
"Wherever I could get away. Maybe somewhere warmer. On the west coast, perhaps. Why? Wanna come with me?" He asked, his nerves betraying him for a second. He cleared his throat again, quickly sipping on his beer again to avoid any other comments falling from his lips. To avoid ruining everything with one slip of the tongue.
"West coast, huh?" You asked, grabbing your own beer bottle. "Sounds fun. Sounds peaceful, actually. I love the sun and the water." You took a small swig of the beer, Simon's eyes following your movements. As your lips met the mouth of the bottle, Simon let out a tiny whimper that he was luckily able to hide by taking another sip. God, how he wished your lips were touching his instead of that stupid glass bottle with cheap beer inside he swiped from work. "We should go on vacation this summer. Just hang out, you know? The two of us. Seeing as the others are always gone anyways." You held the beer bottle in your hand, nodding as you looked at him, snapping him out of his thoughts about you and your lips and… other things. "We can go to my grandparent's little cabin by the lake. We could stay for the weekend, swim in the lake and have a fire while the sunsets."
Simon swallowed, looking back at you as he comprehended your words. A vacation… together. Just the two of you. Was there more to that or were you just being nice? Being friendly? Trying to plan something so you two weren't just stuck in your basement drinking and smoking all summer long? Were you secretly confessing your love to him in the form of wanting to spend an entire weekend together with nothing to do but share space and time? And, would that weekend include a shared bed with cuddling and making out to a crappy mix tape? Or would it involve skinny dipping in the lake late after sun down, your bodies becoming tangled beneath the chilling water as your lips collided in
"Yeah." He stuttered out, nodding slightly. "Sounds fun, we should definitely try to plan it out soon. I'm sure I could request the time off for whenever." He quickly finished his beer, downing the rest before setting the bottle down on the table with a soft clink. "You uh, need another?" He asked, nodding towards the empty bottle. You shook your head, taking another drink of yours before looking at him.
"Nah, I'm good right now." You smiled, soft and sweet as you leaned back against the couch cushions with the bottle in your hand. "Thanks, though."
Simon nodded, standing up slowly. He shuffled awkwardly towards the door, adjusting himself in the process while hoping you didn't see his current state. That was one of the curses about being around you… it genuinely seemed like all you had to do was breathe around him and he was suddenly hard. He glanced back, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw your eyes closed, relaxing deeper into the cushions. Simon moved towards the small fridge in the corner of the basement, opening it quickly told retrieve a new beer to help calm his nerves. Or make it worse, he wasn't sure yet. It could go either way with him after being intoxicated.
Walking back towards the couch, Simon tripped over the edge of the rug, trying to catch himself before falling onto the couch… between your legs. His body landed against yours with a soft thud, quickly moving to kneel between your legs.
You stifled a laugh, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. "You good? I keep telling you to watch for that rug, seems to get you every time. Has an evil vendetta out against you. Must want you dead."
"Please," Simon paused, looking down at you. His hands moved to the back of the couch, resting there behind your head. "Just… tell me it's alright."
You looked up at him, eyes searching his. "Of course it's alright, Si. Why wouldn't it be? Are you alright? Maybe we shouldn't crack open a new beer right now. I think maybe you should lay down for a bit."
He stopped, staring at you as he leaned in slightly, ignoring all of the suggestions you just offered. His voice was now a whisper as his lips ghosted over yours, "and tell me I'm your type?"
The words left his lips so quietly, it's almost as if you had imagined them.
This was written for @fredhechingerfrenzy EVERYONE'S A STAR; the prompt was telephone busy - 'i pulled that tarot card / that one with the mystic heart'. Also this was not super proofread, sorry. lol, i'm working two jobs I cannot be bothered right now.
Customer: Anonymous!
Order: strawberry ice cream in a cup with rainbow sprinkles
Ingredients: Fem!Reader x Daniel Markowitz, Fluff, Love at First Sight, Soulmates and True Love Mentions, Talks of Tarot Cards and Tarot Readings, Mentions of Moving, Mentions of Toxic / Abusive Ex (not super in detail)
Total: $22.74 (2274 words)
Order note from the scooper (Danny): "Hi, beautiful! Thank you for your order! Here's your strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles! I just think sprinkles are the best and add so much to the order. Please, come back soon and get some more ice cream from us!”
Check out our ice cream parlor here!!
the biggest thank you to @mrprettywhenhecries for reading this over for me! my literal favorite ily joz
"Okay, knock on the deck three times." Your best friend and roommate, Amelia, spoke as she held out a deck of black and white tarot cards towards you.
"Why?" You asked, leaning forward slightly as you inspected the deck in her hands.
"It puts your energy into the deck and it lets the cards choose you, speak to you and tell you what you need to know, just, trust me." She smiled, her smile both soft and calming in the storm of half opened boxes and unpacked clothing that still needed to find their home within the drawers and plethora of closet space now available. Her presence was grounding among the chaotic elements within the small apartment that you now had keys for, miles and miles away from home and the life you had left behind.
"Okay, okay. I trust you. I always do." Your knuckles tapped on the back of the deck three times, your eyes closing slightly as you did so. "If I didn't trust you, I would have never moved across the country with you on a whim." You teased, sitting back on the plush carpet. Your legs crossed underneath your body, arms resting loosely in your lap as she began to shuffle the deck with a grin.
"I still can't believe you did that, by the way. Left everything—other friends, job, family, crazy ex that was stalking you, and moved with me to a different state and city. My god you are brave." As she spoke, she continued to shuffle the deck, the back and white colors contrasting each other with every shuffle.
A few cards flew out face down, but Amelia didn't move to retrieve them. Not yet. You had watched her do this countless times before to know she didn't look at the cards or stop until they had spoken to her and told her they were done sending her messages. You didn't really seem to understand it much, but it was something she had always done. Amelia shuffled the deck a few more times, one more card flying out before she set the deck down.
"Are you ready?" She asked, glancing up at you.
"As ready as I'll ever be. Considering the last tarot reading you gave me ended up telling me my ex was toxic and I needed to run away from him and everything."
"And aren't you glad you did?" She leaned over, picking the cards up in the order they flew out. She looked at the first one, "huh," before looking at the second one, "oh," and finally looking at the last one, "oh my god!"
You sat back, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. There was something about the tone of her voice and the way she spoke that both scared you and intrigued you. "What?" You asked softly, looking at the cards in her hands before looking up at her.
"Okay, well, somehow this turned into a love reading. I swear, this was not on purpose." Amelia giggled, setting the cards out in front of you both. She pointed towards a card with a tower in center of it, lightning striking it a few times with flames escaping the windows. "The first card is the tower, this is a sudden change card so I'm going to say this is about our move. It's giving this change that will make you realize what you need and don't need in your life."
You nodded slightly, looking at the card as you took in her explanation. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. But where does the love part come in?"
"Right here, this card is the two of cups." She pointed towards the second card, two cups being held towards each other by two separate people. Their hands held around the cups, free hands reaching towards each other in an intimate gesture. "This card basically means… true love. It represents deep emotional bonds and mutual attractions and partnerships. It's literally the true love card." She looks up at you, her smile growing. "You are going to meet your true love. He is going to come in, sweep you off your feet and show you how you should be treated, unlike your ex who shall not be named."
"Amelia, I sincerely doubt I am going to meet my true love."
"Yeah, I had a feeling you would say that. But look at this card." She pointed towards the last card, an angel in the background with the sun as a couple stood side by side, reaching their hands towards each other. "This is literally the lovers card. It is the ultimate soulmate card, representing soulmate connections, deep harmony and significant romantic choices. I'm telling you girl." Amelia looked up at you, smiling softly. "You left everything and moved here with me… your soulmate and true love is going to show up unexpectedly and sweep you off your feet and show you how you should be loved."
You looked at her, glanced at the cards and looked back at her. "Amelia, I don't think I'm meeting my soulmate anytime soon. I'm not looking for love at all I'm just… looking to find myself while I'm here, you know?"
"I know that but, the universe works in mysterious ways. I think this is the universe telling you that your soulmate is going to help you find yourself and love yourself."
"I just, I don't know. Even if I did meet anyone, I'm not looking for a relationship."
"I think you should keep an open mind, you never know when someone is going to show up in your life." There was a knock on the door echoed through the living room, pulling you both out of the conversation about the tarot cards spread across the floor. Amelia gasped, looking up at you. "That could be him! That could be your soulmate and the love of your life!"
You laughed, shaking your head as you stood up. "That's actually the pizza that I ordered for us before we started this. Remember?" You grabbed some cash from the counter, making your way towards the front door. "Besides, it's probably some teenager that hates his life and is just trying to make extra money. I doubt my soulmate is on the other side of the door."
"Yeah, but if it is your soulmate, I get dibs on being the maid of honor at the wedding. The tarot cards never lie, remember that." She winked, looking back down at the cards spread out before her.
"Yeah, sure." You reached for the door handle, unlocking it quickly before opening it slowly.
"Hey, Greg. Looks like you switched it up today. Went for a pepperoni instead of a supreme? And added breadsticks, what a wild night you have planned. And—oh," the man standing on the other side of the door finally looked up from the receipt, his eyes meeting yours. He looked you up and down quickly, taking you in fully before making eye contact again. "Shit. You're not Greg. My bad."
You giggled softly, leaning against the door frame as you did. "I am in fact not Greg, very sorry to disappoint."
"Oh, please, no disappointment here. He was kind of an ass who never tipped and ordered pizza from us like every other day."
You smiled at that, gaze roaming over him as he unzipped the bag that held the warm and fresh pizza and breadsticks. Your head tilted to the side slowly, taking his appearance in fully. The messy, dirty blonde hair was covered with the visor, the words The Pizza King embroidered on it. The short stubble of a beard and mustache that looked like there was an attempt to keep cleanly shaven but was definitely not working out too well. The soft, blue eyes that were so focused on the task at hand, his tongue was peeking out of this mouth ever so slightly. So slightly that had you not been looking, you wouldn't have noticed. The baggy blue jeans, the simple black top with the same logo as the visor embroidered on the front, a small, silver name tag on the side that read Daniel standing out against the black fabric.
"So, you new here or does Greg just have some really pretty daughter I should know about?" The man, or Daniel, asked. He removed the boxes from the bag, looking up at you. "Because you look nothing like my least favorite customer." He teased, a crooked grin growing on his face.
You smiled at his joke, deciding to joke back. "Wouldn't you like to know? If we were related, I would have hoped he'd tell me about the cute, mysterious pizza delivery driver that seems to know his order by heart."
Daniel grinned wider at that, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "Take it you just moved in?" He asked, holding the two boxes your way.
"Indeed. My friend and I did. Moved all the way from Wisconsin to big scary California. Hope I fit in at least a bit around here." You took the boxes from his hands gently, your fingers brushing his as you did. The hair on your arm stood up slightly, a small electric shock moving through your body as your fingertips touched his. You pulled back slightly, clearing your throat as you did. "Just getting used to the city and seeing everything in it."
Daniel nodded, smiling slightly. "A midwestern girl, huh? Welcome to LA." He said softly, feeling the same electric shock and current run through his body as you touched. "Here, let me give you my number, if you want. You can text me about anything; I can show you what pizza places to stay away from around here and where you can get the best breakfast bagel." He reached for a pen from his pocket, scribbling his number down on the back of receipt. "My name's Danny, by the way. My grandma says Daniel was more professional but I honestly hate how formal it sounds." He tucked the receipt under the box of breadsticks, looking up at you.
"Danny, huh? Nice to meet you." You replied, handing him the cash from your hand as you mentioned your name. Your fingers met again, only this time the spark was almost visible as you both leaned into the touch, not afraid to move away. He thanked you, taking the cash before reaching for change in his bag. "Don't worry about it, the rest is yours." You said, stopping his movements.
He looked up at you, smiling slightly. "You sure?"
"Positive."
"Well, now I know you're definitely not related to Greg. Most he's tipped me is a 'hey, son, why don't you trim your beard a little?' Have a good night, by the way. And if you order from us again, might I recommend the cinnamon twists? Perfect on a stormy LA night like tonight."
"Cinnamon twists," you repeated, nodding as you did so. "Hey? Thanks, Danny. I might just take you up on that offer to show me where the best breakfast bagel is… I'm a sucker for an egg and cheese on an everything bagel."
"Noted. I shall gather my list of things to do and not do and what to avoid around here… so long as you choose to text me." He teased, leaning against the wall slightly. "Well, I suppose I should probably get back to regularly scheduled shift… but, it was really nice to meet you," Danny smiled, saying your name one more time with a grin on his face. It felt natural and right coming out of mouth, and as much as he enjoyed saying it… you enjoyed hearing it.
"Yeah, nice to meet you too." You smiled, blushing slightly as he looked at you one last time before turning to walk back down the hall towards the stairs.
You stood in the doorway for a brief second, the pizza boxes in your hands forgotten as you watched Danny walk farther down the hall until he had disappeared completely. You sighed, leaning against the doorway before you heard a voice in your ear.
"But he's not your soulmate or the love of your life, right?" Amelia asked, smirking as she reached for the pizza boxes.
You shook your head slightly and looked at her, the blush creeping back to your face and neck. "Shut up," you mumbled, following her back into the apartment.
"Look, all I'm saying is you two hit it off pretty well. You were joking and laughing with each other and it's pretty obvious that you two liked each other. Text him, give him a chance and call me when he proposes." She handed you the receipt with the phone number before she moved towards the kitchen with the two boxes, smirking as she did.
You sighed, smiling at the thought as you pulled out your phone. Quickly entering his number, you created a contact before sending a quick text.
You: Hey, Danny! I'm texting you so you have my number and to say it was super nice to meet you!
Danny: Oh, hey beautiful! It was nice to meet you too. I'm glad you texted me. Are you free tomorrow morning for some of the best egg and cheese bagels you've ever had? I can pick you up at 10? :)
"Pick you up at ten, huh?" Amelia asked, looking over your shoulder as she took a bite of a slice of pizza. "But, yeah, he's not your soulmate, huh?"
"Shut up…" you mumbled, smiling as you moved your phone from her view.
Amelia was right… wasn't she? Tarot cards never lie…
Thank you to everyone that has participated in our Seventh Fred Hechinger Frenzy Prompt: DANIEL MARKOWITZ 🧡
We had six (6) amazing submissions from three (3) amazing writers! All submissions this month were for the amazing Daniel Markowitz (Thelma) since it was his month!
Below you will find links to all the work that was posted and tagged, we hope you enjoy reading these as much as we did!
Our next event is already underway! We cannot wait to read and see all of your submissions for that!
Smut is quickly indicted by a ☆
✦ Week One: Grandparent(s)
✦ Baby Girl
- written by @romantic-genocide | daniel markowitz x pregnant fem!reader | word count: 1.1k | warnings: light cussing, fluff, established relationship, pregnant reader, mentions of past miscarriage | you and danny tell thelma about baby girl
✦ A Day Out
- written by @idkwhatthisiseither | daniel markowitz x gn!reader | word count: 1.4k | warnings: none specified | you, danny, thelma and ben decide to go out for a day having lunch
✦ Week Two: Sweater
✦ Operation: Sweater Restoration
- written by @idkwhatthisiseither | daniel markowitz x gn!reader | word count: 600+ | warnings: none specified | as you stop by danny's parents house, you find a beloved sweater of his and decide to give it a second chance
✦ Week Three: Hands
✦ Be Quiet ☆
- written by @idkwhatthisiseither | daniel markowitz x fem!reader | word count: 2.2k | warnings: 18+ mdni, unprotected, pinv, dirty talk, fingering, sex at parents house, nearly caught | you were spending the night over at danny's parents place, however it goes a very different way than you expected
✦ Wedding Party ☆
- written by @punkrockmlchael | daniel markowitz x fem!reader | word count: 1.5k | warnings: 18+ mdni, fluff, at a wedding, talks of wedding and marriage, smut: some kissy kissy, grinding and humping, some degrading name calling, a quickie in the bathroom, unprotected pinv, creampie | danny wants to leave a wedding early but you're stuck until the happy couple leaves
✦ Week Four: Tutor
✦ So this is how it starts
- written by @idkwhatthisiseither | daniel markowitz x gn!reader | word count: 1k | warnings: none specified | you've decided to take on adult maths classes for a job, and come out with a new crush
Warnings: Fluff, Fem!Reader, At a Wedding, Talks of Wedding and Marriage, Smut: Some Kissy Kissy, Grinding and Humping, Some Degrading Name Calling, a Quickie in the Bathroom, Unprotected PinV, Creampie, I don't think I'm Missing Anything?
Word Count: 1528
This was written for @fredhechingerfrenzy DANIEL MARKOWITZ ; the prompt was hands. also this was not super proofread so i'm so sorry if there are any mistakes - i'm working two jobs i cannot be bothered and this is already lateeee! (but thank you @keeryhours + @romantic-genocide for reading this over smooches)
"You're getting bold," you mumbled, fingers tightening their grip around Danny's hands.
He huffed, his breath hot on your neck as his hands rubbed against the silk fabric of your dress. "Can't help it." He whispered before placing a soft kiss below your ear. "You look too good in that dress. Besides, no one is watching us, they're all watching the cute new married couple dance around and get all handsy. Because apparently at weddings that's acceptable."
"You're right." You glanced over at your cousin and her now husband as they danced against each other in the middle of the crowded dance floor. The lines between appropriate and promiscuous blurred as it was their night to celebrate their love. Or whatever it was they were celebrating.
"Yeah, so let's leave early." Danny suggested, nipping at your neck as his hands moved up your body. They found your chest slowly, giving a small squeeze to your breasts as he pulled your body closer to his. As he tugged you closer, you could feel his erection poking your ass. He grinned when he heard you gasp, his voice dropping lower so only you could hear it among the crowded room and loud music. "Please, baby girl? I need you." His hips jutted forward slowly, showing you how much he truly needed you in the moment.
"I can't leave," you groaned out, pushing back against his hips. "I'm the maid of honor, I can't leave until the wedding is over or they leave for their honeymoon. Whichever comes first."
Danny frowned, his teeth grazing over your neck again. "But baby," he whined, biting down on your neck. His right hand trailed down your stomach, cupping your heat through the silk fabric before finding its place on your hip.
"Don't but me, I can feel you. I know you're horny." You whispered back, grinding back against him playfully to tease him. "You never get this handsy unless you're extremely horny."
"Bitch," he gasped out. "That's not fair and you know it." His hips moved forward again, grinding back at a steady pace.
"Life's not fair." You looked around the room before turning in his arms with a small grin. "How about I make you a deal." Your arms moved around his neck as your lips ghosted over his gently.
"A deal?" He smirked, his lips touching yours softly. "I'm listening."
"How about a quickie. Think that can hold you over until after the wedding?"
"It might hold me over," Danny replied, looking down at you. "But, where? Everyone's going to see us go into the same bathroom." His eyes moved towards the bathroom behind the dance floor, in full view of everyone. "Not really many places to have a quickie here."
"There's a bathroom in the bridal suite." Your fingers wrapped around his tie, tugging it gently as you led him towards the bridal suite, away from all the eyes that were now watching your cousin and her husband take shots together in the middle of the dance floor.
"You're evil, you know that? We could just go home and have sex in our own bed but no, we're about to have a quickie in the bathroom your cousin used to get ready for her wedding today."
"Daniel," your voice came out stern as you looked at him. "We both know you cannot wait until we get home. Even if we left right now, we would doing a quickie in the car to hold you over."
He opened his mouth to argue but no words came out. Because you were right on so many levels. And part of him just couldn't admit that to you—he didn't want you to know you had him in the palm of your hands right now.
Your grip tightened on his tie as you drug him deeper into the venue, down the winding halls until you reached the door to the bridal suite. "You're sure about this?" He asked softly, glancing around the hall as you pushed the door open.
"Everyone is watching the happy couple. And, there's two bathrooms attached to this room. We just pick one and lock the door." You tugged Danny into the room, leading him towards the bathroom in the corner. "Besides," you leaned closer, kissing his lips softly. "I'm wearing your favorite lace underwear."
"The red one?" He asked, his hands finding your hips as he pulled you closer. You nodded, giggling as he pinned you to the back of the bathroom door.
"I think you've persuaded me enough." Danny kissed up your neck, his right hand moving down your body. His fingers grazed over your thigh, pushing your dress up slowly as he did so. "This dress looks amazing on you," he mumbled into your ear. "But I can't wait to see it on the floor later tonight."
His fingers danced up your thigh, moving towards your core slowly. You groaned slightly as he rubbed you through the thin, lace fabric, his thumb adding pressure to your clit as his middle and ring finger slid over the slick fabric.
"Danny," you moaned, hips jutting forward slightly to meet his movements.
"You're so wet, baby girl," he smirked, kissing up your jaw slightly. "Looks like I'm not the only one that's horny." His fingers pushed your panties to the side, the cool air making you shiver.
"Shut up. You've been grinding against me for the last hour, of course I'm horny."
"Is that all it takes?" Danny asked, his middle finger sliding through your slick folds. You moaned louder, gasping when his finger swirled around the entrance, pushing into you slowly. "Looks like that's my answer." He added confidently. "Look at you, such a little slut—moaning and groaning just from my fingers in the bathroom of your cousin's wedding."
"Danny, shut the fuck up," you whined, your dominant hand sliding down his suit. Your fingers messed with his belt, undoing it with ease. "Just fuck me, please?" You begged, undoing his pants with slight struggle.
Your words sent a jolt through his body, his cock twitching beneath the fabric of his pants. "If you keep begging like that I'll fuck you so hard that you'll be screaming my name for everyone to hear."
You gasped as he pushed his body closer towards you. Your opposite hand moved down his body again, easily unbuttoning his pants before pushing them down slowly. "Please? Need you," you mumbled, kissing his neck softly as his hardened cock sprung out.
"Need you too, baby girl." Danny mumbled back, his left hand resting under your right thigh. He lifted it up, holding it against his waist as he pushed your panties to the side more, giving him the space he needed. He slid his tip through the slick folds, pushing into you slowly. He grunted softly at the feeling, your walls engulfing his length fully.
"Fuck, Danny, you're so big."
He groaned, twitching inside of you at your words. "Fuck, baby girl, you're always so tight." His speed picked up slightly, his thrusts growing faster. "Perfect for me. Like you were made for me." You moaned louder, walls clenching around him as he spoke.
"Yeah," you grinned, tugging him closer by his tie once again. Your lips crashed into his hungrily, moving in sync with his. "I love you."
Danny smiled, kissing you back. He bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it gently. "I love you too, baby. I just can't wait until our wedding so we can try to sneak away and have a quickie like this." His thrusts kept a steady speed, his grip on your thigh tightening as he tugged you closer to him. "Fuck you in the room you got ready to take my last name in."
"You wanna marry me?" You asked, feeling a flutter in your stomach as you clenched around him again.
"Of fucking course I do." Danny kissed your neck softly, biting down on the skin roughly. "Can't wait to call you Mrs. Markowitz."
You gasped, head moving to the side to give him more access. "Mrs. Markowitz, huh? I like the sound of that."
"Mrs. Markowitz. Mrs. Daniel Markowitz." His thrusts turned sloppy, indicating he was closer to his high. "Take my last name in front of everyone before I wreck you in private."
You moaned again, clenching around him with a whine. "You're gonna make me yours, huh?"
"That's the plan, baby girl." Danny thrusted deep, releasing within your walls as he did so. "Make you mine and keep you forever."
"Fuck, I can't wait to be yours forever." You moaned out before releasing around him. "When's the wedding?"
"Woah, baby, let me propose first?" He teased, thrusting a few more times to help you both ride out your highs. "I have it all planned out, I swear."
"Sure you do." You smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.
He kissed you back, grinning into the kiss. "I do, I swear."
But if there was one thing you knew about Danny: he never had anything planned out. The only thing he really knew was that he loved you and never wanted to lose you.
