hey! I’m going to be moving the smut to my main blog @stellav1va! It’s just way too much work to have multiple different blogs! Hope to see you there :3c
warnings - threesome, man egos, Xavier being a munch (canon), mentions of breeding obviously, slight mention of voyeurism, slight inspo from Mickey 17!
You can barely hear the conversation between Caleb and Xavier. All you know is that Caleb is holding your thighs apart and Xavier is licking and sucking at your clit. Your fingers dig into Xavier’s hair causing him to moan against you making your throw your head back and moan into Caleb’s ear.
He groans at the sound and thrusts his hips upwards towards your pussy. “Not your turn.” Xavier taunts the other one. “My turn ends when she cums against my tongue.”
Caleb curses under his breath at the mentioned deal. “Fuck, shouldn’t have agreed to that. Should’ve just used my evol and made you watch me fuck her correctly.”
Xavier hums at that. “And you think I don’t know how to fuck her correct? You do know who she’s been going to since you disappeared?” More taunts come from both men’s mouths.
“I’m gonna cum!” You squeal out interrupting their little argument. Caleb easily begins to talk you through it. “That’s right pretty girl. Cum all over his tongue. So I can fuck you and breed you like I know you need.”
“Not so fast.” Xavier says pulling away, causing your orgasm to wash away. Whining for him to continue, Xavier hushes the protests from you, assuring you that you’ll get to cum before he turns to Caleb. “I bet you’ve never made her squirt before.” He challenges as he leans down back to your pussy.
Caleb’s eyes darken at the challenge. “Challenge accepted.”
Content - breeding, Caleb calls your pussy her lmfao, multiple cream pies, it’s been like a month since I wrote smut Caleb just awoke something in me
“Shhhh, you had your time with me earlier, now it’s her turn.” Caleb murmurs in your ear from his place on your back. His cock thrusting in and out at a slow pace.
Whining into the pillow, your noises barely audible. “I said, shh. She’s talking. It’s rude to interrupt.” Caleb says firmly as he yanks your face up from the pillow and covers your mouth. “Yeah just bite down on my fingers. Just like that pipsqueak.” He groans out.
You’re barely able to hear anything other than him. “That’s it.” He praises as he looks down at where his cock connects you two. “Let her talk to me.” He watches intensely as your pussy squelches with multiple loads of cum in it already.
“I think she’s saying she needs another one.” Caleb murmurs as he grinds down into you, his balls grazing your clit. You whine out against his hand at the sensitive feeling.
“Yeah? You agree with her?” He laughs. “You want your best friend to breed you? Knock you up?” You clench down on him at his words and he laughs again.
“Well if my two favorite girls want it, who am I to say no?”
hello. 🫣 as a fellow kpop stan (i LOVED your fics btw), who do you stan? like groups/soloists/etc
Hi! I Stan so many groups 🥲 I don’t really stan soloists. The groups I stan are BTS, Txt, aespa, Lesserafim, NewJeans, blackpink, pretty much all NCT groups, ateez, Ive, gidle, kiss of life, gfriend, exo, the boyz, TWS, SNSD, red velvet, zb1, ot4 big bang and so many more!
synopsis: you recall the gradual shift in your relationship with fred when prompted by questions at a panel promoting the movie.
wc: 13k+ (...)
warnings: rpf! reader is specified to be inexperienced! major plot point actually!
a/n: loads of backstory! and banter! and pedro and paul! and kissing!
i hope the format is as intuitive as i think it is, but just in case it isn't, italics means the start of a flashback and bold is the return to present day. feedback is writer's fuel!
cross posted on AO3
<<previous part
The energy in the green room was calm, easy. You sat perched on the arm of the couch next to Fred, laughing as Pedro recounted a story from a previous panel he’d spoken at. Fred’s forearm draped over your thigh, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your knee, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
The casual physical affection felt normal now, expected even. No one batted an eye. Not Pedro, not Paul, not anyone in the room.
Ever since filming began, your relationship with Fred had only grown in comfort and familiarity. The closeness of your characters on screen slowly but surely translated to your friendship in real life. And then something more…
Late nights of practicing scenes together turned into deep talks and sharing secrets in the warm light of his trailer. Only a few months into filming, the two of you were attached at the hip. Inseparable. It became a running joke. If anyone asked where either of you was, the answer was always with the other.
~
“Where’s Fred?” An assistant called out onto the crowded set one day. “He’s needed in hair and makeup!”
“Where’s y/n meant to be right now?” Paul asked, barely looking up from the script in his lap. The young girl looked down at the clipboard in her hands, combing through the schedules and call sheets. Costume department, she concluded after a few moments of frantic shuffling. “Well, there’s your answer then.”
Pedro had laughed for days recounting the story, shaking his head at how predictable you and Fred had become.
~
“Are you excited?” Fred’s voice softened, meant only for you now despite the buzzing room. You lit up with a smile and a nod. You were incredibly excited. You had never been a guest at a panel before. “Nervous?”
“Not really,” you shook your head and shrugged. “Just more surprised, I think?” You mused aloud with a tilt of your head. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you were invited to the panel at this convention today.
You knew that your role wasn’t as impactful as people told you it was, they were just trying to be nice. You had less than ten lines in the whole film. Being invited to a panel discussing the complexities of the plot and the acting behind it was an honor! But a confusing one.
You had a sneaking suspicion that, somehow, Fred was behind it.
“Surprised?” Fred asked, his eyebrows rising and dipping in quick succession in that way that they do. “Why?”
“Just that—” You glanced around, as if gathering evidence. “Everyone here was pretty high up on that call list.” Fred’s brows furrowed even further this time and you knew what was coming.
“Don’t do that to yourself, y/n,” he almost whined. “You were a driving force—”
“I’m not tryna minimize my work, Fred.” You chuckled lightheartedly, cutting him off before he went on a tangent. He was always quick to pop any bubbles of self-doubt that formed in your brain, but this really wasn’t the case. “I know I worked hard on this movie. We both did.” You held his hand in yours. “But… Alexander wasn’t invited.” You pointed out with raised brows. Alexander had played Ravi in the movie, the healer in the Colosseum. “I’m pretty sure he had more lines than I did.”
“But you definitely had more screen time,” came Fred’s quick rebuttal. “Actually, that’s why I told them you should come—”
“I knew it!” You exclaimed in a whisper, making sure your conversation didn’t attract any attention. You were enjoying the private moment in the crowded room and there was no need for it to end so quickly. “I knew you did this!”
Fred’s grin tilted, eyes glinting with quiet defiance. “What? Am I supposed to feel bad for wanting people to notice how good you are?” He laughed. “You had almost as much screen time as anyone here, but nowhere near enough lines. So I told them that your insight into your character and the plot was just as interesting, if not more.”
“Does this count as nepotism?”
“Shut up!” Fred giggled, lightly punching your shoulder. “I just feel like— If I can help you get the recognition you deserve, why wouldn’t I?”
“Alright, thank you all for arriving on time.” A producer spoke up, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and putting an end to your conversation. You turned away from Fred to face her as she spoke, a smile still lingering on your face.
“We’re gonna start calling you guys out now, one by one. It’s gonna be in the order your names are set up on the table, so you just come out and sit in the chair farthest from your entry. Does that make sense?” She asked, receiving a few nods. “Is everyone ready?” Another round of nods and yeses left the group, yours along with them.
“Don’t overthink it,” Fred whispered to you with a squeeze of your knee. “Just enjoy the moment.”
At that, you could hear the producer hype up the crowd for the cast’s arrival.
“That’s our cue.” Pedro got up from the couch with a clap of his hands. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Fred replied, standing up along with Pedro. “How about you, old man?”
“Creaky at the knees, but it’s alright.” Pedro teased, giving Fred a playful punch on the shoulder. That’s when you heard Pedro’s name called out into the microphone followed by the crowd’s roar in applause and cheers. “Later, losers!”
One by one the cast was called out, Fred’s name being the last one before yours. You breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful to be sitting next to him.
“y/n l/n!” Your name blasted through the speaker, signaling your cue to head out onto the stage. You walked out with a smile and a wave, the crowd cheering at your arrival. You sat down at the long table facing the audience, right there next to Fred.
Your name was printed on a place card in front of you, spelled right and everything. With every passing day of working on this project, you felt more and more that you had finally found your place in the world.
The producer’s voice blurred into the background, distant and dull. Your focus drifted to the sea of faces ahead—posters with your name in big bright letters, shirts with your face printed on them. Some people were even dressed as your character from the movie. It was surreal.
The warmth of Fred’s hand on your knee tethered you back to the present. His steady gaze met yours, silently reminding you to breathe. He knew how overwhelming it could all be. And he knew what you were thinking, he could see it too. He was so proud of you.
Fred squeezed your knee twice, a small act to show you that he saw you. To show you that he was there for you. And maybe, cockily, he was saying ‘I told you so’. That your presence was wanted here, not just by him.
“We’ll get started with questions from the audience then.” The producer announced, motioning for a member of the crew to turn on the spotlight facing the crowd. When the light turned on, it illuminated a microphone on its stand in the middle aisle between all the chairs, and, with it, an incredibly long line of fans. Each with a vetted question, the producer assured.
Most questions were for Paul, though that wasn’t surprising. Many for Pedro and Denzel, as well.
You listened and laughed along, enjoying the easy going nature of the conversation. A lot of the questions were based on the acting, which was a topic well loved by actors of course. But some, as expected, were about the on-set dynamics.
“What was your first impression of your castmates?” A teenage girl asked Paul.
This launched a chaotic answer, with multiple people joining in at once, talking over the other and laughing loudly.
“We all know that I was absolutely terrified of Denzel at the beginning.” Paul laughed, patting Denzel, who was sitting next to him, on the back.
“So was I!” Joseph cracked up. “But I thought Fred was such a sweetheart.”
“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with him. “Fred was incredibly kind to me on my first day on set.”
“Kind?” Pedro questioned, eyebrows upturned in surprise. “Little asshole is what he was.”
“He saves the sweet stuff for her,” Paul chuckled.
“Yeah, well Pedro was an old man calling me short and she was a pretty girl who was lost.” Fred defended himself with his arms crossed, tone clearly kidding. The crowd’s laughter rose at the banter, even if it was obviously turned up for the panel. “Who would you help, huh?”
~
It was your first day on set and your very skin was buzzing with how excited you were. Your schedule said that you should start your day in the hair and make up department, and you heard someone say that it was next to the crafts center. But you couldn’t find either of them for the life of you. And you should’ve been worried about being late for your very first appointment on the set, but you were just too enthralled with it all.
The set was beautiful! Malta, as a whole, was absolutely gorgeous, but the set was something else. It truly felt like you were transported back in time— if you ignored the cameras, speakers, and lights, of course. You had heard of Arthur Max’s work on other productions, and of course knew of his work on the first movie. But experiencing it first hand was almost an out of body experience.
You knew that, when the time came, immersing yourself on the set would be a piece of cake. An actor’s dream really, that was what this type of set was.
“Uh, y/n?” Your name being called out from behind you caused you to spin around. “Oh, it is you.” The man’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Hi, I’m Fred.”
Fred Hechinger. You knew exactly who he was.
“I’m y/n.” You replied, stretching out a hand for him to shake. “But you already knew that.”
“Yeah, well from what I hear, we’re going to be exclusively working together.” Fred laughed as he shook your hand. “Had to do some research on my scene partner.”
“Glad I’m not the only one, then.” You chuckled.
When your manager told you of his secured position as Emperor Caracalla, you knew you wanted to look him up. Many other actors accepted the role before flaking for ‘scheduling issues’, so you were never sure who you were actually going to work with. But once Fred’s acceptance was confirmed, you went on a deep dive. You watched as many of his shows and movies as you could, his IMDb tab constantly open on your laptop.
“They were calling for you in hair and make up,” he said. “I offered to look for you and help you find the way.”
“How did you know I was lost?” You raised an eyebrow as you asked. You weren’t really lost, more so taking advantage of the lack of directions.
“Oh, I know you’re not lost.” Fred shook his head with furrowed brows as he folded his arms, faux seriousness painted his expression. Fred’s effortless confidence had an unexpected charm. It was magnetic. “But if I tell them it took me a while to find you, then we can admire the set for a bit longer.”
Your surprise melted into quiet laughter.
And just like that, you had made a friend.
~
Back on the panel stage, you leaned into the mic, smiling softly. “He gave me a tour.” You recalled. “And he vouched for me at hair and make up, because I was almost half an hour late.”
“On your first day?!” Paul questioned in astonishment, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Ballsy move, y/n. I could never.” Paul tsked and shook his head at you in disappointment.
“Hey!” You called out in offence, throwing an arm up in Fred’s direction. “Blame Fred, he’s the bad influence here!”
“Entirely my fault.” Fred nodded with his hand raised. “I take full responsibility for corrupting the child.”
“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re like two minutes older than me.”
“Two minutes?! For your information,” Fred pointed at the crowd as he spoke now, “I am years older than her. Years!”
Another fan stepped up to the microphone, pulling you back to the task at hand. “Were there any funny on-set moments or inside jokes that made it into the movie? Or at least stayed with you afterwards?”
“Bless you.” Pedro whispered into the mic, causing a wave of giggles to pass through the rest of the line up.
“‘Bless you’ was a good one, I liked it.” Joseph smiled before bursting into laughter at a memory, sending Fred a look from across the table. "Tell them about the sword!"
Fred groans, but the memory sparks in your mind—the clang of metal and his ridiculous deadpan expression.
Connie lets out a loud laugh as she recalls the incident. “Fear me!” She clapped her hands together as she giggled. “Oh, it was hilarious!”
“Fear me,” echoes in your head, and suddenly you’re there again, barely holding back laughter on the set.
~
It was a late night, you were filming the scene where the emperors confront Acacius and Lucilla regarding their treachery. Ridley had instructed Joseph and Fred to make their reactions as dramatic as they saw fit, considering how fervid the scenario would make the twins.
You had been filming for hours at that point, the energy amongst you growing more chaotic with each take. Everything was funny to you now as the sleep deprivation finally hit.
During one of the takes, Fred jumped out of his seat on the throne and grabbed a prop sword from a nearby guard, as was written in the script. He was supposed to point it at Pedro and Connie, yelling about their punishments, as Joseph held him back. But, with each shake, you noticed how unstable the prop looked.
A loud clang echoed in the marble halls of the set. The sword had fallen right off of its handle.
No one said a word. Fred’s face scrunched up in confusion and anger. He stared at the broken hilt in his hand, then at Pedro. Without missing a beat, he raised it like a dagger. “Fear me.” He whispered menacingly, nose to nose with the older actor.
That’s it. Pedro snorted so loudly that the entire set erupted into laughter. You and Joseph were crying from laughing so hard. Denzel was chuckling into his hand, and Connie was leaning on Pedro to stay upright.
“How dare you mock me?!” Fred shrieked, staying in character, even when it was clear the take was a lost cause, if only to keep making the rest of you laugh. “I am your emperor!”
“Alright, alright.” You hear Ridley’s voice call out, winding down from his own laughter. “One more time, then we’ll call it a night. Someone fix that sword, please!”
None of you ever let Fred live it down afterwards.
Pedro would grab a toothpick from the crafts table and follow Fred around with it, a soft and dark ‘Fear me’ heard under his breath.
~
"Honestly, I thought Ridley would leave it in the movie." Fred shrugs, laughing it off. “If only someone didn’t break and ruin it all.” He sent a teasing look to Pedro out of the corner of his eyes.
You wipe a few tears from the corner of your eye as you catch your breath. “It wasn’t even that funny. We were just so tired.”
“It was like four in the morning, we were done.” Joseph explained to the crowd, still coming down from his giggles.
“Anything would’ve been funny to us at the time.”
After the crowd’s volume slowly dwindled, another fan came up and asked about Denzel’s performance. Denzel spoke about how much he enjoyed the freedom Ridley allowed the actors in this movie. How exciting it all was.
Afterwards, someone asked about how Joseph balanced working on multiple sets at a time. Pedro joked about Joseph being sought after and hard to find, always in a different part of the world. Joseph shot back at Pedro that they were always together anyways, considering how they both were working on ‘Fantastic Four’ together.
Another audience member asked Connie how it felt to come back to this movie after more than two decades. She talked at length about the differences and similarities the two sets had. How it was both nostalgic and new.
Someone else stepped up to the mic and nervously waved to the cast after the laughter had died down. “My question is for Fred.” Fred perked up and smiled, nodding at her to continue. “How did you prepare for the emotionally vulnerable scenes you had as Caracalla while staying true to both his character and his sickness?”
“That’s a really good question.” Fred nodded, his arm coming up from your knee to rub at his shoulder. It was so incredibly endearing to you how he reacted to attention. “It was important, definitely. To make sure that you weren’t just seeing his sickness, but the true him under it all. And I think Caracalla, the man and not the sick emperor, really shined in those vulnerable moments.” His hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke and you were enamored the whole way through, not expecting them to motion to you next. “But, at the end of the day, I think you just really have to trust your scene partner.”
Fred looked at you with a shy but knowing smile, “It takes a lot of practice to be vulnerable in front of someone, even if it is just pretending. And y/n was always incredibly kind and supportive whenever I lacked that—that vulnerability—that powerlessness. It wasn’t that I lacked it, per se. It’s just a difficult thing to tap into. And she was always there to help me through it.”
Your eyes dropped downwards as you felt your chin dip towards your chest, your head tilting slightly to the side as a smile grew on your face. The crowd awed in response to both Fred’s words and your reaction.
Fred’s compliment sent your stomach twisting in knots. You glanced at him, his hand went back to its previous position, resting on your knee, steady and grounding. It reminded you of that quiet morning on set when everything between you shifted.
~
The set was calmer that morning than what you were used to. The haze of sleep still clung to the few crew members needed on set this early. They shuffled about quietly, setting up for the day's shoot. Fred sat on the edge of the prop bed, script in hand, shoulders slumped forward as he stared at the lines that refused to feel right.
You were sitting on a couch a few feet away, observing him, script laying forgotten in your lap. His fingers absently tugged at his earlobe, a nervous habit you had come to recognize at this point in your friendship. He had been having difficulties with connecting with Caracalla’s childlike vulnerability. And it wasn’t because he didn’t know the lines—Fred knew them backwards and forwards.
It was the emotion, the raw vulnerability of Caracalla crying like a child to Lovie about Geta, that he couldn’t quite reach.
You had been running lines all night, but he wasn’t performing it to his own incredibly high standards. So you had told him to get a good night’s rest and that you could practice some more in the morning before call time. You spent some time researching trust building exercises, because you were sure that Fred had it in him. He just had to trust you enough to let it rise to the surface.
After you watched him run through the scene a few more times with no progress, you got a look of determination in your eyes. “Alright!” You inhaled deeply and dropped your script onto the seat next to you. “How about we try something else?”
Fred’s head snapped up at your voice, the both of you having been silently in each other's company prior to your exclamation. “Like what?”
“Trust exercises!”
He blinked, unimpressed. "y/n, I really don't think—"
“Come on, it won’t hurt to try!” You insisted, knowing that he was worn down and everything felt useless. But you had faith in him. “For me?”
He rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fine.” You cheered quietly at his agreement. “What did you have in mind?”
You stood and moved to sit across from him, knees nearly brushing. "Eye contact. No talking, just hold my gaze. Nothing else."
“For how long?”
“As long as possible.”
He hesitated for a second but leaned in slightly, blue eyes locking onto yours. The silence stretched. At first, it was easy. The hours you'd spent together on set had built a quiet comfort between you. You were comfortable with each other now, as any pair of friends would be.
But slowly, the air around you shifted.
Had his eyes always been this blue? And so full of emotion? You wondered how you had never noticed these things about him before. The longer you looked, the more your chest tightened, like you were standing too close to the edge of a cliff. You swallowed hard.
Fred’s head tilted, his eyes scanning yours as if he were searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Then, without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently brushed his thumb along your cheek, swiping away an eyelash that had landed there. The touch was featherlight, but it sparked something within you. Something new.
You sucked in a breath, breaking the rhythm of your breathing and pulling Fred’s attention to your lips.
He quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. "Sorry. You had—uh—you had an eyelash."
You barely managed a nod, heat blooming beneath your skin. The air had changed so suddenly. It was sharp, tense, and neither of you knew how to break the spell.
More crew members were starting to file in, calling out names and times. The usual hustle and bustle on set was rising. Your name was called out from one side and Fred’s from another, instructions to go to wardrobe for you and hair and makeup for Fred.
“I—I should go.” Came Fred’s stuttered response as he slowly got up and backed away, his eyes now finding it difficult to stay on yours.
“Uh yeah, me too.” You nodded with pursed lips, just as awkward as he was.
That was different, you pondered as you walked away. You had never seen Fred in that light before. You had never reacted like that to his touch. This was entirely new territory for you. You liked Fred.
Oh no.
How predictable. Catching feelings for your on screen lover. You had to suppress the eye roll. This was something you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do once you got into the film industry.
But how could you resist? Fred was so kind and caring, so helpful and affectionate. His smile never failed to bring a similar one to your face. Now that you thought of it, you were a bit surprised it had taken you this long to notice.
You had a crush on Fred.
And you were almost positive he didn’t see you in that way.
This was horrible, you thought as you reached the wardrobe department. You were regretting everything. Not only was Fred no longer just a friend in your eyes, you were almost positive you had ruined any chances of him getting this scene right after this. You groaned quietly to yourself as you changed into your costume in the dressing room. What a way to start the day.
But later, as the cameras rolled, Fred laid in your lap, perfectly in character. Something was different about him. He seemed more… open. More calm. When you softly carded your fingers through his hair to comfort Caracalla, Fred’s hand drifted to your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin without thinking. Almost in the same way he had that morning.
It wasn’t scripted. But you stayed in the scene, unflinching. You wiped away his tears as he moaned about his wretched brother and the empire he was forced to bear the weight of. He was delivering the scene perfectly. Almost like nothing unsavory had transpired between the two of you less than an hour ago.
Ridley, watching from behind the monitors, leaned forward. Eyes glued to the screen. Once the scene had played its course, he called it. "Cut!” His voice boomed through the speakers.
Fred carefully got up from your lap, though not straying far.
An assistant quickly came over with a walkie-talkie. Ridley’s voice broke through the static, fragmented but understandable. “Fred, that wasn't in the script."
Fred sat up quickly, already apologizing. "Sorry, it just—"
"I liked it. Let's run it again. Same way."
Your eyes flicked to Fred, wide in surprise. He liked it. Ridley liked it. Fred shared his own surprised smile with you.
He finally got it. That obstacle was overcome. And Ridley noticed. It was exciting to have your work appreciated in that way. And he had you to thank, even if you thought otherwise.
And, in the process, something had shifted between you.
~
Then someone asked Paul who his closest friends were on set, pulling you back to the present moment.
“You want me to make enemies of my colleagues now, do you?” Paul chuckled nervously, garnering a laugh from the crowd. “No, in all seriousness, I made many great friendships on this set. Pedro, of course Denzel, Connie, all great mentors that I can call friends now, I think. But who I spent the most time with on set? That would probably be Fred. Fred and y/n, yeah. They’re a package deal, as well. So yeah, it was always us three.”
His answer takes you back to a pivotal moment you had with Paul on set. You knew from then that he had your back, in every situation. Even in matters where he had no stake, you knew you could trust him.
~
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky over the ancient stone set, casting long shadows across the Colosseum replica. The usual hum of activity filled the air. You were sitting on Caracalla’s throne overlooking the arena, legs dangling off the edge as you scrolled absentmindedly through your phone.
Paul plopped down beside you with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.
“Easy!” You laughed. “What did the chair ever do to you?”
Paul leaned over slightly to peek at your screen, completely disregarding what you had said to him. “Who are you texting?”
“No one.” You locked your phone quickly.
Paul’s smirk deepened. “So it is someone.”
“No, Paul.” You shot him a look.
He tilted his head and grinned. “Oh, so it’s Fred.”
Your stomach flipped. “Paul!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one heard.
“Oh, come on!” Paul leaned back, arms stretched behind him. “When are you not texting Fred?”
You groaned as your palms covered your eyes in embarrassment. “It’s not—” you mumbled before smothering your face in your hands.
“Not what?” Paul teased, nudging your knee with his.
“It’s not a big deal.” You exhaled, peeking at him between your fingers. “We’re just friends. Don’t make it weird.”
Paul gave you a flat look.
“Friends?”
“Yes!”
He let out a disbelieving laugh. “Okay.” He shrugged, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, whatever you say.”
“Thank you.” You breathed out in relief, glad he was letting it go.
After a short moment of silence, he spoke back up. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” He motioned to the air between the two of you with his pointer finger.
“Paul—” You groaned, knowing exactly where he was going with this.
“And I’d like to think that Fred and I are friends as well.” He leaned towards your side in his seat now, coming face to face with you. “I don’t take long walks with him on the lot, hand in hand. He’s not giving me his jacket when I’m cold. He didn’t let me braid his hair in the hair and makeup trailer.”
You glared at him. “That last one was one time.”
“Not the point.” Paul leaned closer. “He’s different with you.”
You bit your lip, looking away. “I don’t know… Fred’s—he’s sweet. He’s friendly. That’s just who he is!”
Paul raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, but he’s not that sweet or friendly with anyone else.”
You stayed quiet, fingers picking at a loose thread on the hem of your costume.
Paul’s tone softened. “Don’t sell yourself short, y/n.”
Your eyes flicked to his, hesitant but curious.
“You’re smart, talented, and funny. And let’s not pretend the Roman attire doesn’t suit you perfectly.” He gave you a playful nudge.
You laughed despite yourself. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” Paul’s grin changed into something more sincere. “Fred should consider himself lucky that you like him.”
Your cheeks burned.
“I just don’t want to—” You mumbled and trailed off. “Ugh, I don’t know. I don't want to make things weird between us.”
“You two are too stubborn for your own good. Someone’s gotta give.” Paul mumbled before raising his eyebrows at you. “You can’t yearn forever.”
“Can’t I?”
His gaze softened as he took in your expression. “You really don’t see how he looks at you, do you?”
“What?” Your brows furrowed and you shot up in your seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Paul laughed in shock, pulling back and looking out onto the expanse of the set. “Wow.” He muttered to himself. “I can’t tell which of you is dumber.”
“Hey! I can still hear you!”
“Maybe put some of your other senses to use then, idiot!” Paul retorted as he got out of his seat, the speakers on set calling for him to go someplace or other. He walked away mumbling to himself, leaving you sitting there, staring after him, unsure of what to think anymore.
~
“And I, of course, was chopped liver.” Joseph spoke solemnly to the crowd, dragging you out of your reminiscence. “Paul loved Pedro, Denzel, Connie, Fred, and y/n. But not poor old Joseph.”
Paul stumbled over his words as he backtracked. “And Joseph! Of course, I was always with Joseph!” Paul cried, pleading with an unyielding Joseph. All a bit to keep everyone entertained, you knew.
“No, no, you can’t undo what’s been done.” Joseph shook his head dramatically at Paul as he motioned for the next person to step up to the microphone. “You have made an enemy tonight, Paul. I hope you’re happy.”
“My question is actually for Joseph.” The fan sheepishly spoke, sending Paul an illusionary apologetic smile.
“I have what you can never have, Paul. The love and affection of the general public.” Joseph deadpanned as he looked over at Paul before turning back to the girl at the microphone. “Go on, darling. What’s your question?” Joseph smirked as he looked away, leaving Paul rolling his eyes.
“Well, um, Paul and Pedro had extensive physical transformations they had to undergo to prepare for the role.” Joseph rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion at the mention of Paul, the joke still running. “What did you have to do to prepare for Geta?”
“Not much, actually.” Joseph snorted. “I got really interested in the history of it, but in comparison to Paul and Pedro? Yeah, we got off easy. Didn’t we, Fred? Just loads of eyeliner.”
“Yeah.” Fred laughed as he nodded. “Shaving and eyeliner was our morning routine for a few months.” The crowd, as well as the cast, laughed at Fred’s note. “Emperor Caracalla is clean shaven, but I’m not.” He chuckled, hand instinctively rubbing at his chin at the thought of his light beard. “So I had to shave almost everyday, but that was about it for me.” With a glance towards you, you knew exactly what he was thinking about.
~
It had been another late night in Fred’s trailer. You were curled up on his couch, legs tucked under you, as you watched Fred pace back and forth. He had been reviewing lines, occasionally muttering to himself, but you hadn’t been paying close attention, not until the soft scruff along his jaw caught the light.
Your eyes narrowed.
“Fred,” you called softly.
He paused, blinking at you. “Yeah?”
You tilted your head, lips twitching. “You’re getting a little...scruffy.”
Fred instinctively brought a hand to his chin, rubbing over the light stubble that had started to grow in. “Ah, shit.”
“What?” You asked, sitting up now.
“Sam’s out sick,” He explained. “Usually, they shave me every morning. I don’t know how I forgot about it today. Emily needs me to be clean shaven tomorrow.” He mumbled lightly, as if he was only thinking to himself out loud.
You pushed up from the couch, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. “Let me do it.”
Fred blinked. “What?” It was like he forgot you were here for a moment. Or, more accurately, he forgot that you were actively listening to his stream of consciousness. He didn’t expect you to offer to solve this non-issue for him.
“Let me shave you,” you repeated, stepping closer. You gently grabbed his chin, feeling his rough hair between your fingers. You turned his face this way and that, appraising the work you’d have to do if he agreed. “I mean, you can say no if you don’t feel comfortable with your fate in my hands.”
He giggled, eyes softening as he watched you study his facial hair. “Is this another trust exercise?”
You smirked, eyes lighting up and looking back into his. “Maybe.”
Fred considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, Lovie. Have at it.”
The nickname sent a small spark through you, but you shook it off, hiding your grin as you gestured for him to follow you to the little bathroom in the corner of his trailer.
Fred settled on the closed toilet seat after you patted it, a silent command to sit down. He looked up at you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. You rummaged through the small drawer under the sink, pulling out shaving cream and a razor.
“Fear me.” You whispered as you held aloft the blade, watching Fred roll his eyes at the reference.
“You better not botch this,” he teased, leaning back. He couldn’t help but admire you from this angle. The bathroom lighting highlighted your features so beautifully, though he was sure he’d think that of any lighting.
“It seems easy enough.” You shrugged as you squeezed a bit of shaving cream onto your fingers, rubbing your hands together before gently spreading it over his jaw. The cool foam made him shiver slightly.
Fred’s eyes got wide, his head frozen in your grasp. “You’re telling me you’ve never done this before?”
Your eyes sparkled as you raised your brows excitedly, grin wide. “I’m testing your limits. Is this one of them?”
You saw Fred’s eyes dance back and forth as he thought this through. It seemed the risks outweighed the cons, though not by much, because he nodded apprehensively. “Do your worst.” His eyes widened once more and then he winced. “That’s just a saying, please actually do your very best. Don’t hurt the money maker, alright?”
“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes with a snort. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. Now hold still.”
Slowly, carefully, you dragged the blade along his jawline, your hand steady. Fred’s eyes flickered to yours, but he didn’t move. His breathing slowed, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you in silence.
The room felt smaller.
Your thumb gently tilted his chin, guiding him where you needed. His skin was warm beneath your touch.
“You’re doing well,” you murmured, focusing on the careful strokes of the razor.
“So are you,” Fred hummed. “You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”
“I’m that good, huh?” You chuckled, feeling him nod in response with the slightest dip of his chin in your palm. “Maybe I should go pro.”
“You’d leave all the glitz and glamour of being an actress and come shave my scruff every morning?” He asked, laughter lacing his words.
“You’re giving away Sam’s job that easy?” You raised your brows.
“To you? Of course.” He chuckled lightly. “Everything’s easy when it’s you.” The words slipped out, softer than he meant. The air thickened, and Fred’s eyes widened a fraction too late. The words weighed heavily in the space around you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Fred’s eyes flickered to yours at your silence. Whatever he said must’ve been the wrong thing to say, he thought, because your facial expression was unreadable to him. “I’m sor—”
“Everything’s easy when it’s you too, Fred.” You whispered back before he could complete his sentence. With one final swipe of the blade along his jaw, you stepped back from him and the moment. “There. All done.”
~
You smiled to yourself at the memory, glancing back at Fred next to you. You preferred him with the facial hair, you concluded.
“Who was the best mentor on set?” Someone else asked once they had their turn at the microphone, the question not directed towards anyone in particular. But Joseph took it upon himself to answer for someone else.
“I know who Fred’s gonna say.” Joseph whispered into the microphone, causing Fred to roll his eyes.
“It was me.” Pedro smirked, flexing his biceps and wiggling his eyebrows at Fred. “He can deny it all he wants, but I pushed that kid when he needed it. Didn’t I, Freddie?”
“You did.” Fred mumbled, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.
“Hell yeah, I did!” Pedro pumped his fist in the air. “Those stories are private, for Fred’s sake. But I’m a good mentor!”
“The best there is.” Fred confirmed, a slight blush colored his cheeks as he snuck a glance at you.
~
It had been a while since the moment Pedro cemented himself as Fred’s mentor in the younger actor’s eyes. He had learned a lot from him. Both as an actor and as a human being.
But something changed between Pedro and Fred one day.
A day where you had been utterly exhausted. You were filming in a grand room, the scene depicting a party or gathering of some type, you couldn’t recall the details. Everything was as opulent as you would expect with the twin emperors, of course.
You and Fred had been up all night, bingeing movie after movie, showing each other your favorites and analyzing every scene. When you saw him the next day on set, you were shocked at how awake he was. Everything felt like it was in slow motion for you. You had never been more appreciative of your lack of lines in this movie.
After a few takes of you blinking slowly in the background, Ridley had called for a break. Something wasn’t right with the focus on a few cameras and a monitor or two needed recalibrating. Technical issues that shouldn’t take too long to fix. An assistant director said the issue could take about half an hour to resolve, so you turned to Fred, a silent question in your eyes and a slight pout on your lips.
You and Fred cuddled often, but never outside of his trailer. Movie night was just an excuse for you to curl up in his arms at this point, though neither of you ever acknowledged that.
But you were so tired, and the pillows on the couch were decorative and stiff. And Fred was right there. It would only be thirty minutes. Just a quick lie down.
Fred saw your face and knew exactly what you wanted from him. He leaned back into the couch and patted at his lap, giving you space to lie down. It didn’t even register to him that anyone would notice nor care.
His hands instinctively went to brush his fingers through your hair, your nightly routine as of recently. With his cologne and his warmth enveloping you, as well as the soothing motion of his fingers against your scalp, it was less than five minutes later that you were snoozing away.
Pedro looked over and saw the two of you cozied up together and couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the scene. He had been trying to throw hints at Fred for weeks about the two of you. It was clear as day. But neither of you was brave enough to bring it up, fearing the other’s lack of reciprocation. If only you two could see what everyone else saw.
He shared a look with Paul, who was watching along with him. “Go talk some sense into him, Pascal.” Paul snickered lightly, giving Pedro a slight shove in your direction.
“I’ll try my best, Mescal.” Pedro sighed.
“Is she out?” He asked quietly once he had settled down beside Fred on the couch, not wanting to wake you up.
“Like a light.” Fred muttered, eyes never leaving your sleeping profile. “It’s my fault, really. Kept her up all night.”
“What did you watch this time?” Pedro smiled, knowing of the private movie nights held every evening in the trailer next to his.
“The Godfather.” Fred answered. “Actually, both of them.”
“The sequel is amazing.” Pedro nodded, but he wasn’t really engrossed in the conversation as much as he was in Fred. It was hard not to admire Fred as he admired you.
“Definitely.” Fred nodded, not even sparing Pedro a glance. The boy was in love and he didn’t even know it. But so were you, to be fair.
“She’s just as bad as you are, you know? Thinking too much, scared to say something first.” Pedro mused, eyeing you curled up in Fred’s lap. You never looked as comfortable as you did in Fred’s presence. Pedro leaned in and his voice dropped an octave. “You should tell her.”
“Huh?” Fred is finally pulled out of the trance you had unknowingly put him in, snapping up to look at Pedro for the first time since he sat down. “Tell her what?”
“I’m saying,” Pedro emphasized each word, “She’s just as oblivious as you are.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should tell her how you feel!” Fred instinctively cupped his hand around your ear, guarding you from Pedro’s sudden laughter like it was second nature. You hadn’t even flinched, too deep in your slumber to notice. But Pedro did, he noticed Fred’s subtle protectiveness. It was sweet. And increasingly frustrating.
Fred scoffed, his cheeks glaringly crimson. “I think I’d prefer not risking those odds.”
“Buddy, trust me. Every single odd is in your favor.”
“Don’t quote the hunger games at me right now.” Fred rolled his eyes.
Pedro frowned in frustration, leaning closer to Fred. “You really don’t see how gone she is for you?”
A few moments of silence pass between them. Fred’s eyes on you, and Pedro’s eyes on Fred’s lovesick expression. “...You really think she likes me back?”
“She’s not sleeping in my lap, is she?” Pedro smirked, standing back up. “Just think about it, would you?”
~
Fred buried his face in his hands to cover up his flushed cheeks. You shot him a concerned look, but he shook his head to ease your worries. You didn’t know about what had transpired between Fred and Pedro in the same way Fred didn’t know about what happened between you and Paul. And you both wanted to keep it that way. Too embarrassed that everyone else seemed to know of your affection for the other before you did.
“Did any unscripted scenes make it into the movie?” someone asked, pulling you back to the crowd once more.
You and Fred immediately glance back at each other with shy smiles.
Paul talked about the scene where he kissed Pedro’s forehead in the arena, even though it was technically cut.
But then he turned to the rest of the table. “What about you, Fred?” He asked pointedly, noticing how you had looked at each other when the question was asked. “You had a scene they left in, didn’t you?”
Fred chuckled nervously, scratching behind his ear. “Yeah, a few made it in. But… you probably mean when I called her ‘Lovie,’ right?” The crowd roars in response and Fred’s ears turn pink as he tugs at them. “Yeah, about that…”
~
Fred had started calling you Lovie after that day he was having difficulties with that one scene. He hadn’t even realized when it started, but now, it was just second nature.
Today was the day you would be filming a scene you were dreading. The day Caracalla, the sick emperor you had spent months embodying a devotion to, would die. And you were taking it hard. You had somehow made a place for him in your heart.
Fred thought it was sweet how your affections grew for his character. He assured you that he understood, working on a long term project like this always leaves an imprint on actors.
The filming schedule on set didn’t rely on the order of the scenes, but more on the availability of certain sets and certain crew members. So even though this was nowhere near the last scene you had to film with Fred as Caracalla, nor was filming coming to an end anytime soon, you were filming Fred’s last scene in the movie.
The wardrobe department was a maze of fabric and armor, with soft R&B muffling through a nearby speaker, someone no doubt wanting to lighten the atmosphere in the stuffy warehouse.
You sat hunched in a chair, eyes locked on the hem of your sweater, fingers twisting the fabric. You and Fred were waiting together to be given your costumes for the day.
It all felt so much heavier than you expected.
“You okay?”
Fred’s voice was gentle, but you didn’t lift your head. You just let out a quiet, shaky laugh.
“I’m being ridiculous.”
He came to crouch in front of you, elbows on his knees, watching you carefully. “No, you’re not.”
You sighed, pressing your palms to your face. “I’m getting emotional over the death of a villain in a movie.”
Fred’s head tilted. “Hey, we both know he wasn’t really a villain.” His voice carried a soft laugh with it.
Your lips twitched upward. “He was just misunderstood.”
“And syphilitic.”
You let out a wet laugh, wiping your face. “Yeah, and that.”
Fred grinned, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. Slowly, he stood and offered his hand. “Dance with me, Lovie.”
You blinked at him.
“What?”
“Come on,” he urged softly, fingers still outstretched.
The nickname barely registered in your mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it felt different now, like a natural extension of you.
You slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet.
Fred’s palms settled at your waist, hesitant at first. But when you leaned in, looping your arms around his neck, his grip tightened, like letting go wasn’t an option. You swayed together, slow and easy, surrounded by walls of costumes and muffled music.
“How dumb is this?” you whispered, though the corners of your mouth lifted.
“It’s not dumb, Lovie.” Fred shook his head slightly, his hand gently smoothing over your hair. “Nothing you do is dumb.”
The nickname lingered in the air.
You exhaled, resting your forehead against his collarbone.
“I’d take care of him so well,” you murmured, only slightly serious.
Fred let out a soft chuckle, his breath warming the top of your head.
“You did, Lovie,” he whispered back. “You did take care of him.”
And later, when you filmed the scene, the two of you covered in fake blood and silks, you couldn’t differentiate your character’s tears from your own. It all felt like the end of something. It felt like mourning.
When Fred said ‘Lovie’ instead of ‘My love’ as he wilted in your arms, you didn’t even register the deviation in the script. Only when it was over, when Ridley’s voice crackled through one of the hand held radios, did it hit you.
“Beautiful. Keep calling her that, Fred.” Ridley commended. “Lovie. Should’ve thought of that myself.”
~
“So what he means to say,” you spoke to the crowd, “is that my dramatics fundamentally affected the movie.”
“She was actually so sad,” Fred frowned, “It was heartbreaking. It was an honest mistake, though. Calling her ‘Lovie’.”
“But did you tell them where it came from?” Connie asked, teasingly looking at Fred.
“We uh—” He chuckled bashfully. “y/n and I called her character ‘Lovie’, because it was hard to workshop a character with no name.”
“And then ‘Lovie’ stopped being the character’s nickname,” Pedro chimed in with further explanation, “And it started being y/n’s.”
“I thought it was so sweet.” Connie sighed. “And it suits her so well.”
“Ridley loved it, too.” Denzel joined. “I heard him grumbling over the radio. Something about how he didn’t think of it before.”
“No one cried when Fred cut off my head, though.” Joseph shrugged with a shake of his head. “Take from that what you will.”
“Actually, I did.” You corrected him with a smirk. “Don’t underestimate my propensity to get emotional when it comes to film.”
“Did you?” Joseph perked up, leaning forwards to look at you across the table. “Did she really?” He asked Fred, like he was the authority on all things true about you.
“Oh yeah.” Fred nodded. “And the scene where Caracalla asks where his brother is. Inconsolable. Sad movies are her weakness. You should’ve seen her when we watched ‘My Girl’.”
“Don’t bring that up right now.” You closed your eyes and shook your head solemnly, raising a palm in Fred’s direction. “He wasn’t wearing his goddamn glasses, Freddie.”
“It’s alright, Lovie,” Fred chuckled, speaking away from the microphone as he leaned closer to you. His voice dropped lower, only for you to hear. “We’ll watch a happy one tonight. Non-negotiable.”
You nodded at him, a smile growing on your face. Fred never failed to make you feel special, like you were a priority to him. Your choices always came above his, no matter how hard you insisted. It was so easy to love him.
“And our final question to wrap up the panel—”
“Make it a good one!” Pedro called into the microphone, a laugh rippling among the crowd in response.
“Come on up, don’t be shy.” The producer smiled at the young girl last in line to ask a question. “What did you want to ask the cast, honey?”
“What was your first kiss like?”
An ‘aw’ passed through the crowd as well as the cast on a stage. But a slight sweat began to coat your palms. You had been admiring Fred and his kindness only a moment ago. So tranquil, almost like you weren’t sitting in front of a crowd of hundreds of people. But this one question sent a shock of electricity up your spine. You were an actress, you reminded yourself. They wouldn’t know if you told the truth or not, would they?
You heard Paul mention a school dance, and Pedro talked about a pool party during summer break. Denzel mentioned his wife, Connie spoke briefly of a night in Paris when she was a teenager. Joseph and Fred had similar stories, a stage kiss for a school play and a local production.
When your turn came, you stuttered over your words. It didn’t feel like you had enough time to make something up, at least not something believable. “I guess—uh—technically, it was on screen.”
“Technically?” Joseph asked, confused.
“Yeah,” You swallowed as heat bloomed across your cheeks. Your lips were upturned ever so slightly as you recalled that day. “My scene partner offered to practice with me before filming. It was much sweeter than it sounds.” You laughed before letting out a sigh. “It’s a memory I’ll cherish forever.”
~
It was the night before you would film your first intimate scene with Fred. The two of you were sitting on his couch, scripts open but long forgotten. The quiet of the trailer is filled with the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of pages as one of you shifts. You could feel Fred’s presence next to you, close enough that your knees brush when either of you adjusts your position.
“I don’t think Caracalla’s ever had anyone look at him the way Lovie does,” Fred mused, breaking the silence. His voice is soft, contemplative, like he’s voicing a thought meant only for himself.
You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the sincerity in his tone. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his blue eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “It’s like… even through the haze of his sickness and his trauma, he’s desperate to be seen. And she’s the only one who really does that for him. He doesn’t know how to love, not really, but he tries in his own way.” His gaze shifted to yours, a small, delicate frown tugging at his lips. “It’s tragic really.”
Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his expression, the way he’s peeling back a layer of himself in his explanation. “I think Lovie sees that too,” you said softly, barely above a whisper. “And maybe that’s why she stays.”
Fred’s smile faltered, his brows furrowing as he studies you. “You think she chooses to stay?”
“I think…” You paused as you pondered. “I think she’s grown to love him somehow, through this strange, abusive, co-dependent… thing they’ve got going on. And she’s choosing to stay. What you do with love is a choice,” you replied, your voice tinged with something wistful and raw. “Not everyone handles it as carefully as they should.”
The air between you shifted, growing heavier, thicker, as the weight of your words lingered.
It didn’t feel like you were talking about your character’s anymore. Fred’s eyes didn’t leave yours after you spoke, and you suddenly realized how close he was sitting. His knee brushed yours again, and this time, neither of you moved away.
“Does it scare you?” he asked, his voice impossibly quiet.
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribs. “What?”
“Getting it wrong,” he said, his gaze searching for something telling in your eyes. “Love, I mean.”
You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you held his gaze, unable to look away. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “It does scare me, I suppose.”
Fred nodded, a flicker of understanding passed over his face. “Me too.”
There was a beat of silence, and then, without thinking, Fred reached out, his hand brushed against yours where it rested on the cushion between you. His touch was light, almost tentative, but it sent a jolt through you.
“I guess that’s why it’s easier on set,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles. “You get to pretend, just for a little while, that you know what you’re doing.”
You laughed softly, but it caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.
“Fred…” you started, your voice trailing off as his fingers curled gently around yours. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“I’m nervous about tomorrow.” You confessed, eyes falling down to your lap.
“I know.” He replied.
You furrowed your brows and lifted your head to look at him questioningly. “You know?”
“Yeah y/n, of course I know.” Fred smiled softly, reassuringly, “I think I would be a bad friend if I couldn’t tell that you were nervous. And I’ve seen your filmography, I know you haven’t done this sort of thing before.”
You didn’t know if it was a relief or not that he thought you were only nervous about the shoot.
“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, eyes flickering downwards. “Never for a project, no.” You hoped he wouldn’t catch the half truth. Or maybe you hoped that he would. You weren’t sure how you felt about all of this.
You liked Fred. You knew this about yourself now. And sometimes, you think that maybe, just maybe, he might like you back. Paul never failed to seize an opportunity to tell you that, of course. But you were too scared to make a fool of yourself. And, selfishly, you didn’t want to lose what you had with Fred. But now, things were progressing.
Fred was going to be your first kiss.
And that would be hard to overcome. Especially when you already liked him so much. You were afraid that you would imprint on him like a duckling, never seeing anyone else in the same light. And then what would you do?
“y/n?” Fred asked, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Are you alright?” You hummed in response, eyes still unfocused. “Do you wanna do a trust exercise or something?”
“What?” You questioned, finally pulling yourself back to the moment.
“For tomorrow?” Fred explained, raising his eyebrows as he spoke. “To help you feel better about it?”
You thought about it for a moment before nodding. This might be just what you need. It was so helpful with Fred that last time, and hopefully it could be for you as well. “You wanna do the eye contact one?”
“How about another one?” Fred asked, leaning back against the back of the couch.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Tell me a secret.”
“What?” You balked. “What kind of exercise is that?”
“A secret for a secret.” Fred shrugged. “How about I start?” You nodded, though apprehensively. “I’m nervous for tomorrow, too.”
“Are you really?” You raised a brow at him. “‘Cause if your secret’s just a lie to make me feel better, then you’re cheating.”
Fred giggled and shook his head. “No, I really am.”
“Why?” You tilted your head inquisitively at him.
“Nope, I already told you my secret.” He pursed his lips and shook his head again. “Now it’s your turn.”
You shifted uncomfortably, tucking your legs beneath you on the couch, the script forgotten in your lap. Fred’s gentle, observant gaze had a way of making you feel bare in a way that wasn’t unsettling, but intimate—like he could read every thought you tried to hide.
“I guess it’s not just in front of the camera,” you admitted softly, fiddling with the corner of a page. The confession felt inevitable, like it had been lingering between the two of you for weeks, just waiting for a moment like this to surface. “I mean… I haven’t done this before. Any of it. Not just on screen.”
Fred's eyes softened as he sat up slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his focus entirely on you. “You mean you—you’ve never been kissed before?” His voice was quiet, not prying but careful, like he didn’t want to scare you away.
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.
For a moment, Fred didn’t respond. He simply watched you, and you could feel the weight of his attention, not heavy or oppressive. His brows furrowed slightly as if he were choosing his next words carefully.
“That’s… okay, you know,” he said finally. There was no pity in his tone, only a steady reassurance. “I know how intimidating this can be, even for people who’ve done it before.”
“It’s just—” you sighed, leaning back into the couch, exasperated with yourself. “It’s not that I think I can’t do it. I know I can, or at least I hope I can. I just don’t want to look ridiculous. I want it to look real.”
Fred smiled faintly, his head tilting as he considered your words. “It’s admirable, you know?” You hummed in question at him. “The fact that you’re sacrificing your first kiss for the production.”
“It’s embarrassing is what it is.” You rolled your eyes with a snort.
“What?” He gasped quietly, the air still feeling ever so delicate between the two of you. “You're giving it away for Sir Ridley Scott! He’d be honored if he knew, I think.”
“He’d be confused if he knew.” You corrected him. “An actress in her early twenties who hasn’t been kissed before. I think I could apply to the Guinness book of world records.”
“Hey, come on.” He shook his head at you sympathetically. “You’re not breaking any records, trust me. There’s no deadline for this kind of thing.” He shifted closer as he spoke, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in that familiar gesture you’d come to recognize as a sign of his sincerity, “But…I could help—only if you want.”
Your heart skipped. “Help?”
He nodded. “I mean… if it makes you feel more comfortable, we could—” he paused, exhaling as if second-guessing himself. “I could be your first kiss. Just to take some of the pressure off tomorrow. It’s not a big deal. Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”
The room felt impossibly quiet, save for the distant hum of the trailer’s air conditioning. You swallowed, your pulse thrumming in your ears. It wasn’t just the offer that stunned you—it was the ease in Fred’s voice, the way he treated it like something as simple. Just Fred, offering to help you in whatever way he could. It was so sweet. He was always so sweet to you. But you couldn’t. Not like this
You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you inevitably shook your head. “That’s really sweet of you, Fred. But I think I want my first real kiss to be with someone who actually really likes me, not a pity kiss from my scene partner. Tomorrow doesn’t count if I don’t count it. It’s fine, really. I was just in my head about it—”
Fred laughed before he could stop himself, interrupting your rambling. “You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”
“What?” You asked dumbly, not expecting him to say something like that after your vulnerable confession.
“Why do you think I’m nervous about tomorrow?” He asked incredulously, a laugh escaping him. “It’s because I actually really like you, y/n!”
Oh.
It was like someone knocked the wind out of you.
You had hoped that he liked you back, maybe even thought it might be a possibility in the back of your mind, but to hear him say those words out loud? You were speechless. It was like a dream come true. All those months of pining for him, all that yearning, was reciprocated this whole time.
“y/n,” Fred murmured, his voice low, soothing. “Can I be your first real kiss? Please?” He parroted your words back to you once more, breathlessly. You felt the blood rush into your head.
You managed a weak nod, barely managing to meet his gaze. He waited a beat, letting the moment settle before he leaned in, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His touch was featherlight, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheekbone. The intimacy of the gesture almost unraveled you.
Fred's lips brushed yours tentatively, the kiss soft and unhurried. His movements were gentle yet assured, he understood that this was new for you and he didn’t mind guiding you through it. His other hand found your waist, steadying you, and you felt yourself melting into him.
As the kiss deepened, Fred’s grip on your waist tightened subtly, anchoring you as he shifted. Without breaking contact, he eased you forward, guiding you into his lap until you straddled him, your knees on either side of his hips and your hands resting tentatively against his shoulders. His fingers flexed against your hips, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you.
Your lungs felt tight as Fred pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath fanned over your lips and his hands lingered against your waist, sending butterflies crashing into each other in your stomach. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that—long enough for the rapid beat of your heart to settle into something softer, steadier.
“Was that okay?” Fred asked softly, his voice just above a whisper.
You nodded before opening your eyes to meet his gaze. There was something tender in the way he looked at you, and it made the words on the tip of your tongue feel less terrifying.
“Can we… do it again?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and your stomach flipped as you realized how vulnerable you sounded.
Fred's lips quirked into a soft smile as his hand slid up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” he murmured, a soft laugh coloring his words as he brushed his nose against yours. “Yeah, we can do it again. As many times as you want.”
His lips found yours once more, and this time, there was no hesitation. Fred kissed you with more certainty, his hands firm as they traced the curve of your back, pulling you closer still. You could feel his quiet desire in the way he held you, the way his fingers flexed when you deepened the kiss.
You were glad that confession made its way out before you could stop it.
The next morning, you woke up with a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubbling beneath your skin.
The day was finally here.
The scene you’d been dreading—and quietly anticipating—was actually happening. But unlike the restless nights leading up to it, you felt more prepared. More steady.
You had filmed a few suggestive scenes with Fred before. As a syphilitic emperor, Caracalla had the propensity to be very comfortable and open in his desires. But you weren’t asked to be nude for any of those scenes, unlike this one. The complexity of not even speaking, yet being so exposed on screen was a little difficult to wrap your head around.
This scene was supposed to depict you and Caracalla in the privacy of his lavish quarters when Joseph as Geta barges in and angrily informs his brother of Acacius and Lucilla's betrayal. You and Fred were to be undressed and only covered by sheets from the waist down.
Clara, the intimacy coordinator, had explained that Fred would be leaned back in bed, propped up by a few pillows, while you sat in his lap. The scene would open with a close up shot of the two of you kissing gently, the camera slowly pulling back with you as you leaned back. Your lower bodies would be covered with various messy sheets, depicting the long night the characters had already had before the intrusion.
The scene was much more than physical, it was also meant to show the characters’ co-dependent nature. Even when his concubine was on him, he needed his hands to be on her, both showing his dominance and control over her as well as his reluctance to pull away.
Fred’s kiss lingered in the back of your mind like a warm ember, small but constant. While you still felt the nerves creep in when you thought about today’s shoot, there was a quiet confidence blooming alongside them.
When you arrived on set, you noticed immediately how different the atmosphere felt. The crew was smaller, the lighting dimmer—intentional choices to provide you with a layer of privacy.
Clara was already on set, organizing the sheets and setting up the space. She glanced your way, smiling comfortingly, but she didn’t say anything. She knew of your apprehension and had been worried about you. But she noticed something new in you today. Maybe there was a shift in your energy or a slight lift in your posture, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she kept her observations to herself.
Fred was already there, standing near the bed where the scene would take place with Joseph. He smiled the second he saw you, that familiar softness in his expression grounding you more than anything else could.
“Morning,” he greeted, voice low and calm.
“Morning,” you replied, a shy tight lipped smile on your face as you stepped closer to him. Joseph greeted you but was quickly ushered away to his mark behind the door, not giving him enough time to notice the change between you and Fred.
Clara approached you and spoke with her usual calm authority, a roll of skin-safe tape in hand. “Alright, let’s get these sheets secured,” she said, gesturing for you to adjust your robe.
But you stopped her with a small, assured smile. “I don’t think we’ll need the tape today.” Last night’s events forged a confidence deep within you. You knew your team had your back. You knew Fred had your back.
Clara paused, blinking at you as if processing your words. Her sharp gaze flickered briefly to Fred, who stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed into his robe pockets.
He tilted his head at your words, his brows furrowing slightly as he stepped closer. “You sure?” His voice was low, warm with concern.
You nodded, holding his gaze. “Yeah, I feel more confident now.”
Clara smirked faintly, a flicker of understanding in her expression, but she didn’t press. Fred’s gesture was subtle but telling. “Alright, just let me know if anything changes.” She said with a sense of finality before stepping away to oversee the set.
Fred watched her retreat, then turned back to you with a concerned glint in his eye. He brushed your arm lightly to grab your attention. “You really don’t want the tape?” Fred asked again, his tone tinged with genuine care.
“Yeah,” You nodded with determination. “I can do it.”
He studied you for a beat longer, as if making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard, then smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.”
“You helped.” You confessed in a whisper, a smile curling your lips upward.
“Yeah?” He asked in surprise, his grin only grew wider when you nodded in confirmation. “Glad I could be of service. We could sneak off and practice some more, if you’d like-”
“Fred!” You cut him off before he could say anymore, scandalised yet amused all the same. “You’re horrible!”
“And you’re cute, Lovie.” He smirked as an assistant pulled him away, cutting your conversation short.
Another assistant pulled you forward as well, telling you to get into place so they could adjust the lighting based on your position. Fred smiled encouragingly at you from the bed he was laying in as you approached. An assistant helped you get into position, straddling Fred’s lap with your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The position wasn’t unlike how you had found yourself last night in Fred’s trailer. With a quick glance into Fred’s eyes, you knew he was thinking the same thing.
The makeup artists fluttered around you, dabbing at your skin with soft brushes, unknowingly keeping the moment from becoming too intimate. The lighting crew adjusted their angles, the soft glow from overhead casting shadows that added depth to the space.
Fred’s hands found your waist instinctively, his thumbs brushing circles against the fabric of your robe. His touch was grounding, steady, and it calmed the last bit of tension lingering in your chest.
“You okay?” he asked, low enough that only you could hear.
You met his gaze, but your eyes kept drifting lower, to his lips. The memory of yesterday was still present at the forefront of your mind, your pulse quickened at the thought of doing it again.
Fred noticed immediately, a small chuckle escaping him. “You’re adorable.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier.
“I’m just—” You flushed, embarrassed at being caught. You were unable to find the words to explain the giddy excitement stirring in you. “I guess I’m excited to start.”
Fred’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t push it, not wanting to tease you any further. “Good.” His grip on your waist tightened subtly, the weight of his hands calming you.
As the cameras rolled, Fred’s lips found yours, his kiss was steady and deliberate, his hands guiding you gently as your body pressed closer to his. You pulled away from him when you heard your cue, the camera nearest to you swooshing in the air as it moved backwards. Soon enough, you heard the loud bang of the bedroom doors bursting open. You startled in Fred’s lap, the reaction a mix of yours and Lovie’s. For a brief moment, you weren’t acting on a set. It was just the two of you before Joseph barged in.
Fred cradled you against his chest, covering your exposed form from Geta, like the scene called for. You couldn’t hear what Joseph was saying over the loud heartbeat in your ears, but you knew what the script expected of you and when. Fred’s warm skin and chest hair brushed against your arms as you huddled close to him. It was intoxicating.
After the first take, you gently pulled back and shifted Fred’s position. “Keep your hands here,” you instructed, placing his hands firmly on your hips in view of the camera. “To show that he’s in control.”
“Okay,” he nodded, always open to your ideas. “You should try leaning into me more,” he added, his hands guiding your hips to tilt forward. “It makes it look like he’s really keeping her there.”
You furrowed your brows as you digested his notes. “Alright. Should I put more weight into it?”
“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded in encouragement. “Don’t hold back, I’ve got you.”
The next take felt even more intense. Fred’s hands pressed into your waist with more dominance. And you fell into him, relinquishing control, matching the energy you’d both discussed.
Between takes, he was quick to adjust the sheets, shielding you with practiced ease. Each touch lingered longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against your bare skin beneath the fabric, and every time you glanced up at him, his eyes held the same quiet intensity and kindness.
Joseph and Clara shared looks after each run through, the two of them noticing the shift in dynamic between the two of you.
“They’re different today.” Joseph whispered to Clara.
“They’re more in sync.” Clara tilted her head as she observed the two of you. “Almost like…”
“Almost like they’ve been practicing.” Joseph smirked.
“About damn time, if you ask me.” Clara huffed, though amused all the same.
~
All these months later, and the memory was still fresh in your mind. And apparently, in someone else’s as well. “y/n?” Joseph’s voice broke the quiet hum of the green room. You were standing at the tea station, carefully deliberating over how much sugar and milk to add to your cup when he approached, his tone unusually hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” You didn’t look up, focused on swirling the tea in your cup. “As long as it’s not about my sugar-to-milk ratio, because I’ll have you know, it’s perfect.”
Joseph chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “No, it’s not that. It’s… uh…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You can totally tell me to fuck off and mind my own business if you don’t want to answer.”
“I gotta hear the question first, Joseph,” you replied with a playful smile, still not turning to face him. “But I promise I won’t be offended.”
He took a deep breath. “Was Fred your first kiss?”
Your hand froze mid-air over the sugar tin, the question catching you off guard. You finally glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “What makes you think that?”
“It’s just…” Joseph shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence replaced with something softer. “What you said back there—on stage—about cherishing the memory forever. It sounded a lot like you were talking about Fred.” He looked down at the tea he was fixing, his words careful, almost shy. “And honestly, it reminded me of that day on set.”
“What day?”
“When we filmed the scene in Caracalla’s bedroom.” His eyes flicked back to yours, searching for confirmation. “You and Fred were… different that day. There was this energy between you two, like something had changed. I thought maybe you’d finally, you know, come to your senses about each other, but what you said on stage—it made me wonder.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, hiding the small smile tugging at your lips. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong.” You added a splash of milk to your tea. “We did come to our senses that day.”
Joseph’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity piqued. “And… was he—you know…?”
You glanced at him, tilting your head in mock thought. “While I appreciate your sudden foray into investigative journalism,” you teased, “I think the answer to that question is classified.”
Before Joseph could reply, Paul’s voice cut through the moment. “Or…” he started, strolling toward you with an infuriating smirk. “The answer is a three-letter word.”
“Fuck off, Paul!” you shot back, your laughter bubbling up as you grabbed your cup of tea.
Joseph groaned, shaking his head at Paul. “You’re relentless.”
“And mean,” you added with a grin as you turned to head toward Fred, who had just entered the room and only caught the tail end of the conversation. He gave you an inquisitive look as he draped his arm over your shoulders.
“What are we cussing Paul out for this time?” Fred asked, his voice light and teasing. He leaned down, pretending to whisper conspiratorially, “What’d he do?”
“He’s mean,” you said with a giggle, your words laced with amusement. “Are you ready to leave?”
Fred nodded. “Yeah, the car’s waiting out back.”
“You’re leaving already?” Paul’s mock-pout followed you as you grabbed your bag.
“We’re literally seeing you guys at dinner in, what, two hours?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.
“And tomorrow morning,” Fred added, steering you toward the door. “Hopefully you’ll survive without us until then.”
As you walked out, Joseph’s amused voice reached you. “For the record, I’m still rooting for that classified answer.”
Fred glanced down at you, his brow raised. “What’s he talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” you said, stifling a laugh. “They’re just being nosy.”
Fred didn’t push, his signature crooked grin tugging at his lips as he leaned closer, his voice warm against your ear. “Well, whatever it is, I’m on your side.”
As always, you thought, smiling softly to yourself.
As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Fred’s arm still draped over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but glance up at him. The way he fit so effortlessly into your life—his steady presence, his quiet reassurances—made you wonder how you ever doubted his feelings for you. Looking back now, it seemed almost ridiculous. Every glance, every touch, every word had been there all along, waiting for you to notice.
“Ready?” he asked softly, opening the car door for you and offering you a hand.
You nodded, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at his antics. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
How could you not be, when everything he did made it so easy to fall for him?
synopsis: your final red carpet appearance with fred for gladiator ii. (your first public appearance as a couple?)
wc: 4k+
warnings: rpf! reader is specified to be inexperienced!
a/n: same general vibes as the last one but more introspective ig, but we go into more specifics here as well as some backstory.
italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of the premiere. feedback is writer's fuel!
cross posted on AO3
<<previous part
The screams and chaos of the premiere crashed over you as you stepped out of the car, a security guard’s hand reached for yours to steady you. This was it, the final big event. Even though it wasn’t over just yet, the nostalgia was creeping in, soft but persistent.
“Hey, pretty girl.” Fred’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He stood only a few steps ahead of you, having just arrived himself. Your gaze softened, lingering on Fred, oblivious to the cameras snapping away. “You look…” His gaze dipped once—then again—tracing your figure. A soft, unguarded smile tugged at his lips, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. As if he was completely enraptured by you. “You’re stunning, you know that?”
The ability to speak escaped you for only a moment, the words caught in your throat. “...Fred, you can’t-”
“No, I’m serious.” He shook his head, eyebrows raised. He walked forward and placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place to continue studying you, as if he was in awe. “Look at you.” His eyes finally found yours again. “You’re gorgeous, y/n.”
“Thank you.” The words felt stronger than your voice. You weren’t insecure—you knew you looked good tonight. But having someone say it like that—having Fred say it like that, like he couldn’t even keep the thought to himself—it nearly brought you to tears.
A deafening roar of cameras and voices dragged you back to reality. The glow of flashing lights blurred at the corners of your vision, and distant shouts of your name cut through the haze. You straightened your posture instinctively, smoothing invisible creases in your dress. But Fred could see it. He could see that small moment you tried to keep to yourself.
“Hey, come here.” He spoke softly, less of a request and more of a warning of the oncoming embrace. He pressed his hands between your shoulders blades once you settled into him, chin hooked against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
You shook your head vehemently, the silky smooth finish of his suit rubbing against your neck. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“I made you emotional.”
“You always make me emotional.” You chuckled, voice light to keep the tears at bay, unsure why they even came in the first place. “You look incredibly handsome tonight.”
“Yeah?” He asked, his smile and excitement clear in his voice.
“Of course.” You pulled away and jerked your chin at his outfit. “We’re almost matching.”
With a quick second look at the color scheme of your outfit compared to his, Fred’s eyes lit up. “We are!”
“I think Grant and Leslie set us up.” You squinted your eyes conspiratorially. “I heard them talking about ‘all black looks’ yesterday.”
“Really?” He raised his brows at the information. “Come to think of it, Leslie refused to even entertain any of my suggestions today.” Fred laughed it off and reached down to hold you. His hands smoothly slid down your arms until they arrived at your hands, interlacing your fingers together. “Come on.” He tilted his head toward the carpet behind him. “Walk with me.”
“Down the carpet?” You gawked, frozen in place as he gently pulled you in the direction of the flashing lights.
“Yeah pretty, down the carpet.” Fred chuckled like you were joking. “It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“You wanna take pictures with me? Like us- together?” You whispered to Fred, not fully paying attention to the cameras already catching every moment. As Fred’s hand tightened around yours, you realized.
You weren’t exactly hiding this—not entirely. Your blossoming relationship, that is. Keeping things personal and quiet felt right for both of you. But this—walking a red carpet together—had never been part of the plan.
“‘Course I wanna take pictures with you.” Fred answered, eyes soft but certain. “We worked super closely on this movie, y/n. I don’t think people will over analyze if we take pictures together on the carpet.” He shrugged. His words meant more than that, though. You knew he meant that you could do whatever you wanted. That you shouldn’t limit yourself in your relationship just because you wanted boundaries. Keeping it private didn’t mean keeping it a secret, like you were doing something wrong.
“Besides, you’re my Lovie.” His voice softened, almost shy, like he wasn’t sure if you’d still claim the title in front of all these people.
Your neck grew warm at his words.
Lovie.
That was the name you and Fred called your deliberately unnamed character throughout filming. Caracalla called her ‘my love’ almost exclusively in the script. So it became your quick shorthand between each other. And soon after, the rest of the cast and crew called your character that as well. But it was different with Fred. After a while, it stopped being her name for him. It was you. You were his Lovie.
“Oh- Okay, yeah.” You nodded at Fred, accepting the idea of walking the carpet together, though still slightly apprehensive.
“Yeah?” He asked again, just to make sure. And with another nod from you, Fred’s victorious smile lingered as his hand settled on the small of your back, sending sparks up your spine. “Gotta show off my girl,” he murmured, his hand pressing a little firmer into you. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to hear that or not, but you did. The way Fred could unravel you, seemingly without even trying, felt wildly unfair—like every tender gesture was second nature to him.
He led you up the crimson steps, where the carpet shimmered beneath camera flashes and distant voices blurred into a roar. Your name and Fred’s were being called from every which way. Before you could stand still and face a specific group of photographers, Fred moved away from your side all of a sudden, his steps quick and fluid.
“Fred?” you asked, instinctively glancing over your shoulder.
“One second.” His voice was low, nearly lost in the noise. When you turned, you saw Fred at your other side by your feet. He crouched smoothly to get closer to what he was after. The train of your dress. It wasn’t that long, but the small trek up the stairs had it all misshapen. With precise movements, he tugged at the fabric to position it into place. After he straightened it out sufficiently, he stood back up and stepped around his handiwork to come back at your side, arm looping around your waist to pull you back into him.
“You didn’t have to do all that.” You looked up at him through your lashes as your hands came up to rest against his chest. You adjusted his lapels in a subconscious attempt to return the favor, brushing away the imaginary lint on his chest and shoulders. Fred visibly blushed at your words, your hands on him, the way that you were looking at him, all of it. You displayed your emotions in a way that even he couldn’t dismiss. Not that he would want to. He loved it. Every moment. Being cared for so openly made his heart flutter and his ears turn red, it was exhilarating.
“I wanted to.” He reassured you, head nodding down softly, a subtle attempt at getting closer to you.
A piercing shout of your name followed by a burst of blinding light shattered the quiet moment.
The soft bubble you and Fred had built around yourselves burst, replaced by the harsh glare of cameras and the relentless hum of the crowd.
You dropped your hands from Fred’s chest, suddenly aware of how close you were.
But Fred’s hand stayed where it was, anchoring you in the thrashing waves of it all.
You turned this way and that, following the voices of photographers as they shouted out different poses they wanted to see.
“I could get used to this.” Fred spoke quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.
You frowned in confusion and turned to look at him. “Which part exactly?” You asked.
“Having the prettiest girl in the world on my arm.”
“Was this your plan tonight?” You couldn’t hide your grin no matter how hard you tried. “To kill me with compliments?”
“Not a bad way to die, no?” Fred furrowed his brows in faux seriousness, his mouth twitching in that way it did, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.
You rolled your eyes with a giggle. “You’re a horrible man, Fred Hechinger.”
‘idk if they’re together or not and i want to be respectful but theyre literally the cutest people ever and if its true then theyre perfect for each other 🥺 truly wish them the best’
‘the mouth thing he does is actually the cutest thing ive ever seen’
↳ ‘hottest. i think you mean hottest.’
‘look at the matching outfits!! i can’t! theyre too frickin cute!!!’
↳ ‘its just all black lol y’all read into things too much 🙄’
‘we need a lip reader up in here 🗣️🗣️’
‘we love a man who knows the importance of the dress’
‘how does she just look better and better at each public appearance?!’
‘this is flirting one million percent’
‘either theyre together or theyre idiots, because this just might be true love’
‘we can’t assume that every interaction in hollywood means something more than it is, give them the privacy they deserve!’
‘what are they SAYINGGGG?!!?!’
↳ ‘it definitely looks like he said ‘prettiest girl in the world’ there at the end, right?? call me crazy, but i can see his mouth moving so clearly it has to be it!’
↳ ‘you’re definitely crazy, but also you’re definitely right’
↳ ‘you’re right!!!! isn't that so relationship goals??’
Towards the end of the carpet, the rest of the cast were gathered to take a group photo. Paul saw the two of you approaching and his eyes lit up.
“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” He teased the two of you. “Been waiting all night!”
“Sorry,” you ducked your head as you confessed, smiling sheepishly. “Entirely my fault. I came late.”
“Ah, come here.” Paul laughed as he brushed it off and pulled you into a hug. “You look stunning.”
“And you’re handsome as ever.” You returned the compliment.
Paul pulled Fred into his side once you withdrew. You saw him whisper something into Fred’s ear, and Fred laughed and whispered something back, but you couldn’t quite make any of it out.
When Fred pulled away, you shook your head at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. A small way of asking ‘What was that about?’ Fred smiled and shook his head, ‘Don’t worry about it.’
“Alright, you two!” Paul clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Picture time!”
“Do I look okay?” You turned to Fred, hand coming up to make sure your hair was in place. You were facing him now, your colleagues to one side of you and the expanse of the carpet on the other side.
“You always look perfect.” He answered, eyes struggling to stay on yours. Always dipping down to your neck, your shoulders, your waist. He had to get a hold of himself, he thought.
As you raised your arm to make sure your earrings were on properly, one of your bracelets snagged at the neckline of your dress. Nothing had happened yet, but if you moved in the wrong way, you’d have a horrible wardrobe malfunction on your hands. A soft ‘Oh!’ escaped you as you realized what was happening. Fred’s eyes darted from yours to your hand, where your eyes were fixated on something.
“What happened?” He mumbled as he quickly moved you with his hands on your elbows and simultaneously stood in front of you, making sure the scene was as difficult as possible for the cameras to capture.
“My bracelet’s stuck,” you explained, eyebrows furrowed and eyes zoned in on the tangle.
His hands quickly covered yours, gently moving your fingers out of the way. “Here, let me.”
You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You’re like my own personal assistant today.”
“Yeah?” He asked with a small smile, still working on your bracelet, glad that you seemed to be enjoying yourself even now.
He was a bit worried about you today, especially after he initially saw you at the entrance to the carpet. He knew the high of working on this project was coming down for you and he wanted to be there to support you through it all.
“Mhm,” you nodded, “first the train of my dress, now this. What next? You’re gonna pull out a powder puff and take care of the shine on my forehead?”
“If this suit had big enough pockets, I’d pull out a plane and fly us out of here.”
“Where would we go?” You laughed.
“I don’t know, the Maldives? Russia? The moon?” Fred laughed with you as he pulled your hand back down, your bracelet and your dress back to their previous intact positions.
“Well, I already told you two that I want to go take pictures.” Paul’s voice broke the bubble that seemed to continuously form around the two of you. He stood next to you and placed a hand on your and Fred’s shoulders. “Hate to ruin the moment, lovebirds, but there’s only so much time before the movie starts inside.”
Paul pushed the two of you towards the spot prepared for the photos. Ahead of you was the rest of the cast, all lined up. Pedro Pascal, Connie Neilsen, Joseph Quinn, and Denzel Washington all stood together chatting and laughing. Paul went and stood next to Pedro, and Joseph made room for Fred between him and Denzel. You slid up next to Paul, feeling like it was the best fit for you between the group of people without causing another shuffle.
Paul scanned the lineup, eyes flicking between you and Fred when his eyes narrowed slightly. “This won’t do.”
Without another word, he began casually nudging people aside, muttering something to Pedro, giving Joseph a knowing look. Slowly but deliberately, he carved out a space beside Fred.
A space for you.
“There. Much better,” he smirked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and pulled you into place.
Your cheeks burned as Fred grinned and tugged you closer into his side. Joseph smiled knowingly at you and draped an arm across your shoulders.
Paul darted back to his place and in turn the cameras flashing intensified.
‘paul fred and y/n seem like such good friends i could cry 😢’
‘we all know paul has tiktok and hes in the loop, this man knows exactly what hes doing to us fred x y/n shippers’
‘HIM FIXING HER DRESS LIKE THAT? TOMDAYA 2.0! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS 😩’
‘guys! a lip reader figured this one out! paul: ‘you’re smitten and you’re not being subtle about it’ and FRED SAID ‘who said i wanna be subtle?’ IS HE NOT THE CUTEST BOYFRIEND IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD?’
↳‘paul ships it, he’s on our team’
↳ ‘and he was telling her how good she looks at the other end of the carpet, did you see?’
↳ ‘at one point he even says ‘you’re my love’ and i just about melted’
↳ ‘no he said ‘lovie’! that’s what caracalla calls her in that one scene! NO SPOILERS GUYS!!!’
‘FRED THE MAN THAT YOU ARE!!!’
‘i can’t tell if i want y/n or if i want to be her’
‘paul making sure y/n is next to fred during the group photo’
↳ ‘did you see how joseph looked at them!! everyone ships these two!’
↳ ‘goes to show how literally everyone is rooting for these two’
↳ ‘so true! they’re the cutest couple ive ever seen i feel like a proud mom’
‘first he fixes the train of her dress, next he helps her when her bracelet gets stuck, then what? huh? i die? is that what these two want from me?’
‘never getting over the cast making sure theyre next to each other in the group pic, theyre so loved’
↳ ‘you mean paul specifically lol’
After a few pictures were snapped, a coordinator in charge of the media coverage told you to reshuffle. They wanted a few photos of Fred with Joseph and Denzel, and some of just the two of them. Some of Connie and Pedro, and some with Paul as well. A mixture of photos that represented their work together on screen. And of course they wanted some of you and Fred, and some with Joseph. And the last group on the list was you, Fred, and Paul.
When Paul came to join you, he placed his arm across Fred's on your lower back, both of their hands now landing on either side of your waist. “Hey,” He smiled warmly at you. “You alright?”
You hummed in confirmation. “Thank you for that, back there.” You tilted your head to the side, knowing Paul would understand that you meant how he made sure to put you next to Fred in the group photo.
“I have no clue what you're talking about.” He smirked, eyes fixed forwards on the cameras. But his hand squeezing lightly at your waist told you otherwise. He was so perceptive when it came to you, making you feel like you were an open book. It brought you back to a day on set. A long time ago. When the concept of you and Fred was something you were too afraid to talk about out loud in fear of ruining the magic of it. Your relationship was on the precipice, the very edge of friendship before the ocean of something more.
The day, you had confided in Paul about the very thing that led him to do what he did only moments ago.
~
“You guys are cute.” He had said, catching you admiring your lock screen. It was a picture of you and Fred on a picnic blanket. Paul had taken it the day before. Everyone on set thought it was a nice idea to have lunch outside. The weather was perfect, the grass was green, and there were butterflies everywhere. You and Fred took a blanket for yourselves, to no one’s surprise.
It was the next day that you were sitting with Paul on the set of the Colosseum and he showed you the picture he took of you. You quickly changed your phone wallpaper after he sent you the photo at your request. It wasn’t anything fancy, his film was still getting developed, though he promised you loads of pictures from that once it was done. This picture was just taken on his phone camera, but it was just as beautiful to you. He was so talented with cameras, capturing each moment beautifully you could almost hear it.
“Thanks.” You replied, avoiding his eyes. It felt strange—this fragile stage of something new unfolding under so many watchful eyes. But you knew that would be a sacrifice that you’d have to make. Especially with how slow you were going with Fred.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Paul asked. You hummed in response, asking for elaboration. “Us watching?”
“What do you mean?” You asked, needing further explanation. He couldn’t read your mind, could he? Was he really asking about the same thing you were thinking of? Were you that easy to read? Maybe to Paul, you were.
“I know you guys are taking it slow,” Paul said softly, like it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to know. Your eyes lifted to meet his. “Fred told me.”
“He talks to you about me?” You asked, your smile evident in the tone of your voice.
“Always.” He replied, smiling just as wide as you unknowingly were. You and Fred were some of his closest friends on set. You all had the same sense of humor and attitude towards life, it was easy to find companionship with the two of you. And he wasn’t surprised that you two found love within each other. But he worried about it at times. “He always talks about you.”
“All good things, I hope.” You chuckled quietly, the smile ever growing on your face as you thought of what Fred might tell Paul in your absence. Maybe he mentioned your weird obsession with stuffed animals, or how you clung to his arm whenever the two of you went for a walk.
After a beat of silence, you remembered his question and your brows knitted in thought. “Why would it make me uncomfortable?”
Paul inhaled through his nose and looked out onto the bleachers ahead of you. “I don’t know… It’s just that- I don’t think I would be comfortable in your position, is all.”
“Why is that?” You knew how you felt about it all, but you always explained away your emotions. A bad habit, you knew. But you were genuinely curious and wanted to hear a somewhat objective opinion on this whole situation.
“Just feels so-” He looked back at you now, studying you. Hoping, even, to see something telling in your expression at his confession. “Exposed, in a way. Raw. Like these feelings that really only one person should know about are on display to everyone around me.”
“Says the guy who had a first date on a live stream.” You retorted, the playful jab coming quick to mind.
Paul shook his head with a chuckle. “You know what I mean, dickhead.”
Your head cocked to the side as you thought of his words, truly taking them in. “I guess it does kind of make me feel strange.”
“Yeah?” Paul’s brows raised, appraising your face once more.
You nodded with a hum. “I’ve never- I mean, I’ve never really had a proper relationship. I don’t think I can even call this one a proper relationship. Not yet, anyways. And when I really think of it, it does feel a little unfair that what I always thought would be intimate and private is on display like this.”
“I’m sorry.” Paul spoke morosely.
“It’s not your fault.” You smiled softly, placing your hand on his.
“Feels like it is sometimes.” He admitted. You shot him a questioning look. “‘Cause of the pictures.” He explained. “I just want to capture the moment. For you guys, not for anyone else. But whenever I point a camera your way, it’s like I’m pulling everyone’s attention to you with it. I feel guilty whenever you two are having a moment and everyone’s staring. You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“I think we’re asking for it a little.” You huffed out a laugh, squinting in the sun. The underlying bitterness in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Paul. “It’s a bit dumb to try and start a relationship in an environment like this. Months on end on one set with the same group of people. It’s annoying to have everyone’s attention like that, but everyone else probably thinks we’re annoying too.”
“No, don’t say that.” Paul shook his head, his eyes sharp as he shot down your self-blame. “You don’t plan out relationships in advance, that’s not how things work. We’re not like normal people, we don’t get to clock out and go home when time’s up. We’ve moved to fuckin’ Morocco, we film day and night. We eat, sleep, and breathe on this set. And if something like that does happen, where would you even hide it? You can’t! Not that well anyways… You guys are doing this well. Better than most.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I do.” He nodded with certainty. “And I… I didn’t know this was your first relationship. I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you.” He apologized again and your heart squeezed.
“Yeah.” Your lips pressed together in a combination of agreement and embarrassment. “But it’s okay. To answer your question, I mean. I don’t think- I don’t feel uncomfortable.”
“No?”
“No.” You shook your head. “He makes me feel safe—like I’m home. Like we’re in a bubble where nothing bad can happen.”
~
Tucked into Fred’s side, surrounded by the cameras and the noise of the final premiere, you felt that same comfort—like you were in your own bubble with him. There were still interviews, panels, and endless appearances ahead, but this moment felt like the end of something special. And you were grateful that Fred was here, anchoring you through it all.
synopsis: interactions between you and fred hechinger at a red carpet event for gladiator ii.
wc: 2.5+
rpf!!! don't like, don't read!!!
a/n: i love that soft, sweet, adorable man with all of my heart. my inspiration is how fred talks about sherry. the monkey. i'm down bad bro.
italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of these interviews. i definitely have more in mind for these two, but we'll see how this goes. feedback writer's fuel!
cross posted on AO3
The flashing cameras and yelling reporters have started to become the new normal, which was so not normal for you. You couldn't believe how far you'd come.
Granted, your role in the movie was definitely more in the supporting cast territory, but you couldn't deny how massive the production was. But even as a supporting actress, you still had quite a bit of screen time as the unnamed favorite concubine to Emperor Caracalla.
The fans who knew you called out your name from behind the velvet ropes and you smiled and waved as you walked by.
"y/n! y/n! Over here!" A reporter called out. You nodded and smiled as you approached, indicating your acceptance of the carpet-side interview. Your agent had warned you that not every journalist might want to speak with you and that you should accept any interview you came by. Thankfully, as the start of your night would show, that wasn't the case.
"Hello!" You beamed, coming to a stop in front of the camera. The reporter greeted you back and handed you a microphone glued to a mini Romanesque column. "Oh, wow. I love the microphone!"
"Thank you," She smiled. With a quick glance at her blouse, you saw a name tag that said 'MTV UK: Claire'. "It was my idea, actually."
"Incredibly creative! They should give you a raise, Claire."
"If you wouldn't mind saying that directly into the camera..." Claire trailed off with a chuckle and a mischievous glint to her eye.
You shot the camera as serious a look as you could muster. "MTV, if you do not give this woman a raise, I will riot in the streets."
"Alright alright, enough of that." Claire laughed out loud with a few shakes of her head. "You look absolutely stunning!"
"Oh, this old thing?" You smiled bashfully, grabbing at your skirt to twirl it around. The styling department had made sure that all the gowns worn during press had some Roman inspiration behind them. The piece you were wearing was off white in color, representing your character's position in society. Even with your character in mind, your dress was still breathtaking. The gown was composed of yards and yards of fabric, giving it this dreamy, flowy silhouette. The neckline was so beautiful, in the cowl style and draped ever so slightly off your shoulders. To say that you loved it would be an understatement. "Thank you very much, you look amazing yourself."
"But you are on a different level!" Claire gasped, no doubt to return the topic to you. Just like you were media trained, the reporters were too. "What was the thought process behind your look tonight?"
Your eyes lit up as this was something you had wanted to talk about. "Well, the styling department and I actually workshopped this look together. Of course we wanted it to be glamorous, this is the red carpet after all. But we also wanted to show the character through the outfits, you know?" She nodded along.
"Right, your character was quite impactful even with the few lines you had." Claire added, and you smiled in thanks.
"Yeah, thank you." You felt your face heat up at the compliment. "We wanted to still be true to her, under all the glitz and glamour. So that's why we went with the understated color, to not only show her position in society but also her demeanor throughout the film."
"But your jewellery is anything but understated." She laughed.
"Yeah, I couldn't help myself." You laughed with her.
"Give us a quick tour."
You were almost dripping in gold, from your head to your toes. "We've got the hair piece." You brought a hand up to show the gold pins connected with chains littering your up-do. "Earrings upon earrings, all hoops." You pulled a strand back to show off your right ear clearly. Some were clip on earrings as you didn't have quite enough piercings to get them all. "The necklaces, of course. Some bracelets, some rings. But I think this cuff on my upper arm is my favorite."
"And these are all borrowed pieces from different brands?"
"Most of them are, yes." You confirmed with a nod. "But some are from my private collection. And some I might steal." You joked, getting a laugh out of Claire.
"Well, you really knocked it out of the park." Claire smiled, a tone of finality in her voice that showed you the interview was coming to a close. "And before we let you go, we've got one question we're asking everyone tonight. I think we can all agree that the cast of this movie is full of beautiful men." You giggled, a bit surprised at the turn in topic. "But people on the internet have separated them into two categories."
"Oh, have they now?" You asked, unaware of what she was talking about.
"Yes, they have. Gen Z has divided them into the brooding brunets and the freaky redheads." She explained, pulling up two little hand held signs. One with Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, the brooding brunets, and the other with Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger, the freaky redheads.
You couldn't contain the surprised laugh that escaped you at the sight of their little printed faces. "Oh my goodness!"
"So, as the resident Gen Z-er on the cast, who is your pick?"
"Well, I wouldn't say I'm the only representation of Gen Z here." You mused as you grabbed both the signs from Claire. You lifted up the 'freaky redheads' sign and pointed to Fred. "My friend is right there with me in the Gen Z territory."
"Alright, as the representation of Gen Z women, which team is more your style?" Claire asked as you studied the signs. "People are saying they went into the movie for the brunets and came out converted to team redheads."
"That's actually really funny," You chuckled as you looked down at both signs. "This is hard." You mumbled. A small smirk found itself on your lips as you thought of Fred seeing this clip later. Someone no doubt showing it to him, as he wouldn't find it on his own. "I feel like- yeah." You nodded with determination. "I'm gonna have to go with Fred- I'm going with team freaky redheads." You nodded. "I think it would be treacherous otherwise."
"And then he'd have my head." You laughed, stepping back. "Thank you for your great questions."
"Thank you for your time." Claire waved as you walked away. "We're gonna have a tally going throughout the night, and we'll see who wins. Team brooding brunets, or team freaky redheads." You heard her say to the camera as you moved further down the carpet.
'She looks so pretty!!'
'i love the thought process behind the outfit, you can tell she really loved her character'
'the reporter asked y/n if she prefers lucius and acacius or geta and caracalla and this girl really said FRED 💀'
'i love seeing new faces in hollywood, give young new actors a chance!!'
↳ 'right?? im so sick of them recycling the same actors for every big budget movie'
'she mentioned fred, not caracalla, twice, unprompted. i see you, y/n. you're just like us.'
↳ 'have you seen his interviews? he's literally the cutest i cant blame her 🥺'
A few steps down, another reporter flagged you down. This time, the questions were more centered around the acting itself.
"And was it difficult? In a previous interview, you've said that your character's growth was significant, but she had almost no lines in the movie."
"Yeah, I think in the final cut she only has... three lines?" You winced, looking upwards as you tried to recall what was and wasn't cut. "Though I'm not sure."
"So there were scenes where she could've said more?"
"Oh yeah, for sure! There was a lot of experimentation with my character throughout filming. Ridley's a genius and he was kind enough to truly take in my suggestions. There were times where I felt like she would actually stay quiet during a scene, whereas other times I felt like she would speak up. But yeah," You breathed in and furrowed your brows in thought as you tried to focus your answer back to the original question. "It was definitely a challenge. I had to really work on my micro-expressions. Lots of research, lots of practice. And lots of trust, too. With a character like mine, I really relied on Fr- on my fellow actors in those scenes. So yeah, definitely challenging. But who doesn’t love a good challenge?"
"And did you take any inspiration from other people's work? Any source material that helped you out as you built your character?"
"Of course!" You smiled, a hint of humor in your tone as you thought of your response. "Yeah, I did. Actually, one of the biggest inspirations for my role, believe it or not, was Ferb. From 'Phineas and Ferb'."
"The- The children's show?" The interviewer questioned with a grin.
"Yeah, Ridley thought it was brilliant!" You laughed. "We watched compilations of Ferb scenes on youtube together. And I know that Fred- Fred Hechinger, who plays Emperor Caracalla-, he also brought up Sid Vicious with Ridley, as well as other sources like that. Sir Ridley Scott has great taste, there's no denying that."
'ferb as inspiration for a movie like this,,, gen z in the film industry really are the gift that keeps on giving'
'im just imagining y/n and ridley scott curled up on the couch watching phineas and ferb reruns. that man is 86 years old. this is brilliant.'
'bro didn't even have to say anything and y/n still brought up fred 💀'
'the gen z cast members making ridley scott watch cartoons is sending me'
'not her pretending she didn't mean to say fred when she talked about trust, we all heard you y/n'
Unbeknownst to you, Fred's interviews were going much like yours, only a few feet behind you on the carpet.
"You look amazing today!" Claire, the same reporter you spoke to, told Fred during his first interview on the carpet.
"Thank you, thank you." He replied bashfully as he tried to subtly look around for you, but he couldn't see you just yet. "Everyone looks so great, everyone."
She asked him a few questions and then came time for her ending segment.
"Alright, to close off, we've got a little game here."
"A game?" Fred smiled with raised brows. "I love games." He said softly, not realizing that the microphone would pick it up.
"Yes, a quick one. You just have to choose between team brooding brunets and team freaky redheads. We've asking everyone to join."
"Woah!" Fred exclaimed as he received the signs. "That's me." He pointed out his own face in the picture of him and Joseph. "What are we basing our choice on here?"
"Well, the internet is battling on who is more attractive."
"Oh my god." Fred chortled, not expecting that answer. "Who's played the game?" He asked, still examining the hand held signs.
"As of now, we've spoken to Joseph Quinn, Connie Nielsen, and y/n l/n." Claire recounted.
Fred's eyes lit up and his cheeks reddened at the mention of your name. "And what's the- what's the consensus so far?"
"It's two to one. Can you guess who's in the lead?" Claire asked.
"Let me think... Well, Joseph -my brother-, he definitely voted for us." He pondered aloud as he counted the votes off on his fingers. "Connie... I think Connie went for team brunets. I mean, it's her husband. She's gotta." He grinned when it came to you. "y/n chose me, right? We're in the lead?"
"Yeah, you're right on all counts! You really know your cast members." Claire laughed. "y/n didn't want to anger Emperor Caracalla."
"Oh, she couldn't. I’ve got too much of a soft spot for her." Fred shook his head emphatically.
"So, are you keeping team redheads in the lead? Or will you give us a tie?"
"No, I'm going team redheads!" Fred exclaimed. "I'm not helping out my competition, no way!"
'this man has bewitched me with his beautiful eyes and calming demeanor'
'he always calls joe his brother im CRYINGGG'
'did you see his face when they mention y/n, this man can't hide his crush for the life of him 🥺'
↳ 'neither can she lol'
'what do yall know about fred hechinger 🗣️🗣️🗣️'
'fred immediately knowing that y/n chose him, kill me right now.'
↳ 'mind you the choice was caracalla. she still said 'fred' and he said 'me'. can they be more obvious?'
'the way this man said 'i love games' protect him at all costs'
‘he said ‘i’ve got a soft spot for her’ is this the year of men yearning?’
↳ ‘it’s just the paul mescal effect’
It was during his next interview that he saw you. He was talking about his experience building the character of Emperor Caracalla with Sir Ridley Scott as well as Joseph Quinn when he finally caught sight of you. You had spent a bit longer with a specific reporter down the carpet, causing Fred to catch up to you.
“Of course, y/n was a great help as well.” He smiled, reaching over to brush against your elbow to catch your attention. At the perfect time, too, because you had just finished talking to the reporter in front of you.
“Oh, Fred!” You beamed, coming over to give him a hug.
“Look at you.” Fred spoke against your shoulder. He pulled away from the hug and brought you into his side in front of the camera, almost like he was showing you off. “Look at her, isn’t she stunning.”
“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes as you tried your best not to show how his compliment affected you. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just had to say hello.”
“No worries,” the reporter reassured you. “Fred was actually saying how you helped with the building of his character.”
“Yeah, we worked really closely during pre-production actually.” You nodded, acutely aware of Fred’s hands on you. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket while his other arm draped across your waist, his hand resting against your hip. “My character was almost like Caracalla’s sidekick, so the motives for all her actions are really based around him.”
“I’d argue that she was more of a mirror, actually.” You turned to look at Fred, never passing up an opportunity to hear his view on these things. “She’s the complete opposite of Caracalla, but in a way she represents who he truly is under all the pressure of being in Geta’s shadow.”
“And under all the syphilis, of course.” You added, causing Fred to giggle.
“Yeah, and under the syphilis.”
‘he seems like such a sweet guy 🥺’
‘did you see his face when he saw her??? 😫😫😫 theyre in love, your honor’
‘him showing her off like that is peak soft boyfriend behavior’
‘they just called me single in seven different languages’
‘his laugh is actually so cute, who is this man and why am i in love with him? 😍’
↳ 'get in line'
↳'behind y/n, you mean?'
‘the way he’s touching her???? im just gonna go take a nap in front of an oncoming train’
‘im calling it, new hollywood it couple’
‘look at how he looks at her!!! may this love find me 🙏’
Plot : You are on your way to steal the mallet of death but Anthony gets there first, change in plans— romancing lord Viscount.
Warning: NSFW content ahead!
Rigel's note🪩 : This is inspired from happily ever after, there's quite blood shed for mallet of death. Yeah Colin is love <3
The last bits of doubt left as you shifted Anthony's arm off your waist, slowly pushing your body down and further till you were out from his grip, he almost looked innocent, sleeping and bed soft, his mouth curled in a dream like smile but you knew better than that. last time Anthony, like lord Viscount he was, stole the pallet from your wardrobe.
And the year prior, Daphne showed her Bridgerton colors, involving the Duke himself in her malice plans.
You couldn't help but smile, thinking your bridgerton were showing up too, the floor was frozen underneath your step but you thought about the victory tommorow, the look on Anthony's face would be priceless, wrapping your cloak around yourself and closing the door soundlessly as you ventured out in the corridor, the moon was high and the air was chill. If inside the Aubrey hall was cold then you weren't up for the chill outside, a shiver ran down your spine as you stepped out in the moonlight, taking the back route, just in case. The shed stood there in the bleak light. You fiddled for keys and it didn't make sense when the wooden door was unlocked, maybe Johnny forgot to lock it, anyway, all more easy. The door creaked in the silence and you couldn't care less, there was nothing between you and your victory black mallet and—
Your breath was knocked out of you as if your lungs were punctured, a gasp of white mist left your mouth at the sight of your husband, leaning idly against the wall.
" I... Anthony?! " You blinked and unblinked and he was still there, smiling.
" What are you doing here wifey ? " He cooed and it didn't help the terror that seized you.
" You knew ! " You hoped it wasn't as shaking like it felt in your throat, Anthony ran a hand through his hair and it all made sense, damn his dreamlike smile, damn you lord Viscount.
" You wound me baby, do you want me to tie you until the game tommorow, tell me, would you like that ? " He smiled all the while, faking a frown as he narrowed his eyes to your silhouette in dark.
" So you would guard the mallet all night ? " You wouldn't let Anthony win this time, it was coming on your pride now, also the love making that followed where he called you all those petty names. The last he called you runner up. No, you would win this time.
" Or I could tie you up, I like that better." Anthony suggested smugly, propping on top of the desk and flashing an erotic display of thigh, change of plans.
" My lord..." You whsipered, all seduction placed in one basket and all smugness was dropped when Anthony's lips parted.
" Do.not." he shuddered but you hit the nerve, moving slowly in your shaking steps, cloak dangling behind you.
" Anthony, these games are absurd. " You stiffled the laugh that burnt your chest, heart heaving and thudding inside your ribs.
It almost didn't work the last time you caught him stealing the mallet, Mrs.Wilson came at a very wrong time.
" It's not working." He assured, to himself mostly but his hand reached for your body all the same, betraying every word he said as he pulled you closer, face mere inches away.
He wrapped his big arms around your waist and cocked your head sideways.
" What about..." You paused, bumping your nose to his cheeks as he sniffed the moon shadow out of you, his lips tried to claim yours but you liked playing games. The ones you could win.
" About what ? " He asked breathless, his long slender fingers undoing the knot in frantic rushed movements. It was no use.
" I was thinking about...we don't have a daughter." You hoped nothing was drowned in the moan that left when Anthony bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder, he looked up with a glint, it was the most sincere set of eyes you had ever seen, also the lustiest.
Anthony could do both, have you screaming his name and worship you all the same.
" Take the mallet...take everything baby. " He kissed you, hard and crashing, like he couldn't get enough, you couldn't get enough and it became too restless for games and victory. Your body oozed with goosebumps and every single thought evaporated like mist and memories.
Anthony dropped the knot and pulled the cloak up from your head and you easily gave in, throwing your hands up as the satin fabric fell on the floor. Anthony hummed in desire.
You felt the cold air circling your body but as soon as Anthony's mouth kissed the exposed skin of you breast, it was gone, nothing mattered than him and his filthy demanding mouth.
" How beautiful you would look with our baby in your belly." He whispered against your skin and you shivered at the sensation.
His palm gripped your hips and lifted you on the desk, turning the dynamics and you cursed under your breath when his unholy fingers pinched your nipple, hard and raw.
" You like that ? " He breathed, undoing buttons of your nightdress like he was made for it, he was merciless sometimes, taking pleasure when you screamed his name and teasing you later, " so needy for me baby ? "
" An.. Anthony." You hoped he heard the plea, his thumb made circles in your inner thigh but never touching where you wanted him the most, " baby.." you buried your face in the crook of his neck and even so, you could hear the smile that crossed him, cocky and devilish.
" Say it wifey, say it nicely with your sweet mouth." He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to face him, eyes locked as his head leaned down, his darted his tongue, pink and wet, the wonders he could did with that, he licked your one nipple while the other was tucked between his two fingers, pressing them together and you screamed, almost embarrassed but Anthony liked that, he always did.
" What's the word ? " He looked up smugly, pressing the tip of his nose to your nip, a smile quirking up. Fuck you Anthony!
Your brain short circuited as he tickled more and more and it became too much to bear.
" Plea... please baby, please, please —" he heard the plea and his mouth opened, taking in your soft flesh and humming in delight, kneading the other so it didn't miss his attention. He wasn't biased when it came to your body, giving everything his full attention and torment. You threw your head back at the sensation that vibratated in your body.
You grabbed his hand that glided on your bare thigh to guide him to touch you where you needed him the most, his teeth nibbed, not harder but enough to make your eyes watery as he slapped your hand away.
" You get the mallet, I get what I want, win win Viscountess." He kissed your cheek open mouthed and his desire was pressing hard against you.
" Fuck me." You said, flushed and dazed and Anthony eye's widened before he was back to play all lord and smug.
" You always order me so." He bit his lower lip but you had enough, fuck pall mall, fuck Anthony bridgerton, yes fuck him. Now.
" Fuck me Anthony! " You almost cried, Anthony leaned further, his forehead touching yours as he whispered,
" I wouldn't be able to sto—" don't stop, then.
You kissed him hard and soft, like fireworks wrecking your brain and you tongue traced his lower lip, intoxication wasted you.
He moaned and a strangled noise that you trapped in your mouth escaped, right from his throat.
His length was pressed against your thigh and it was warm and vibrating. You swallowed like a Virgin damsel.
Anthony looked at you, not breaking the fire that was blazing between your souls as he pulled it out his erection and there, angry red tip, sticky with pre cum was buzzing to be touched and loved and he looked up in delight when your eyes widened, all of the times, it didn't matter, it baffled you just the same.
You touched the tip and he shivered at the contact, his cock gave a twist and lurked fir more.
" Do you see ? " He was panting, shaking with his words as if he would fall if he didn't hold his breath, " see it ?! How much I burn for you, how much I want you ? " He shaked his head and touched his tip to your belly, soft and burning.
" No." He laughed humourlessly, his hand pushing your body to lie down on your back and you followed, taking a huge breath as Anthony grabbed your dangling ankle in a yank, bringing it around his neck.
He then kissed your knuckles softly, whsipering sweet nothings tenderly in your bones.
" I would give you anything my sweet love, you just have to ask...mallet ? I would give you my soul if you had asked. Anything for my baby love " He said, you felt your body tremor as he teased his tip at your insides, Anthony inhaled sharply as he entered you, warm and slick as oil. he entwined your fingers together.
" So good...so good for me baby." He moaned as he soft thrusted once, twice and until you were numb for anything, his words were halo in the dark, beaming silvery glow and then came one hard push and you arched your back as the pain waved in pleasure.
" Anthony..." You moaned, " oh god ! " Your words mingled in blasphemy and Anthony smiled in victory, pushing harder and harder as your hips rocked and roll.
" Say my name...say it." He demanded, your nails gripping at his shoulder so hard that it would scar, he liked it.
" Anthony...oh lord... Anthony." You screamed and chanted and you believed he heard the worship, the fate you had in him, and it didn't matter if anyone listened, let them, you thought, Anthony was a force to be reckoned with, a storm you never minded to be wrecked in. A beak of sweat glided from his forehead and dropped on your belly.
He was still pushing in a angle that had you seeing stars and cosmic love, he bend down, licking it, tongue gliding across your skin, and sniffing, taking in everything your offered.
He wanted all of you.
" I will fill you up with our baby, next time don't go hunting for mallet in midnight...it's so cold Darling, i would have to tie you up," He kissed your stomach bump, " and would carry you around everywhere." He said in dreamily haze that soon took over your lids.
The only sounds were erotic slapping of skin against skin and shuddering breaths, and he fastened his movements as a war cry took him over like a devil.
You head was thrown back as everything collapsed and grew again, bit by bit. Your eyelids drooped and a muffled cry came from you and then it was Anthony as he came in warm fizzy juice. Your felt the knot inside you uncoil and something loose inside you, uncorked as your juices mingled like your souls.
He pushed one more time, he always did that and then he collapsed next to you, satisfied, kissing your already bruised neck sweetly.
" Wouldn't you like that mama ? " He chorused and you laughed like a drunk, you would, a daughter with Anthony's eyes and smile, you smiled at the thought.
" Let's clean you up and take you to bed my lady." Anthony picked you, kissing you again as you giggled, he then grabbed the cloak and covered your body against the cold, you were dazed but not quite forgotten, you eyes searched for the war prize. Your mouth fell open, second time in a very same night.
" Where's the mallet ? " You narrowed your eyes at the stock of pink and blue and yellow but the black wasn't there, perhaps a trick of light.
Anthony followed your eyes and went closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulder and there, beneath the shadows was a parchment, rich and fresh.
Anthony picked it up with one hand, the other keeping you steady in his arms.
You saw the lanky words that belonged to none other than Mr. Bridgerton.
" Damn you Colin! " You growled as the mockful apology was scribbled for stealing the black mallet.
Anthony perched his lips at the heist but smiled when your whining eyes met his.
" I am going to whoop his ass and get you the mallet baby." He said, and you knew he will.
Victory indeed.
_________________________________________
Uhm Benedict bridgerton next ? Send in request ladies <3
Content - female reader! sex in a shower (please be safe when doing that), Yoongi being soft, he mentions an idea of cockwarming and slight exhibitionist
“Place your hands on the wall just like that baby.” Yoongi mumbles into your hairline, guiding you to a safe position. The hot water hits both of you but neither of you notice, too caught up in the other.
“Don’t want you to slip.” He kisses your head and gently presses his cock into you. Allowing you to stretch out around him before he sinks deep into your pussy.
“Today I made some more songs for the album. I’ll show them to you later.” He informs you as he begins to thrust in and out. “I know you’ll like them.” You whimper at the feeling of him inside of you after two weeks.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll take you to the studio and let you sit on my cock there. I would make you cum on my cock as my songs play so you’re just surrounded by me and only thinking of me.” The steam from the water and your bodies molded together is filling the entire bathroom.
“Are you close?” He whispers as he kisses your cheek from behind. Nodding your head as you whine, he takes that as his sign and starts to thrust faster.
Whining as he hits your spot with the tip of his cock, you clench down around him, creaming his cock.
“Fuck babe.” He whimpers as he pulls out and strokes himself to his orgasm. His cum covering your ass. “We’re for sure doing this again.” He says starting to clean you up. “Maybe next time I’ll use the shower head.”
It had been at least four hours since Soobin began his rut. He’s came at least seven times, all inside of you because his instincts don’t allow him to pull out.
“I need to breed you, need to fill you up with my babies and stake my claim over you.” He whimpers out while grinding his cock as deep as possible.
You whimper back as he makes you cum once more, making a new total of nine. “Fuck I know you want it as much as I do. The way your body is just begging for it.” He groans out, while reaching his orgasm.
While he rides his out, he just gently rocks against your body. When he’s finished, he pulls out of your pussy, watching as the cum leaks down. “Fuck baby, you can’t leak anything. Gotta make sure it’ll stick.” He takes his fingers and plugs the cum back into your pussy.
dededos
jacobvanloon
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
titsay
izzy806
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
