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djotime-allthetime · 4 months ago

Text

Freaky Flashbacks

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 sure that 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 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, another 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 able 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?

381 notes · View notes

urmom3001 · 3 months ago

Text

How to Lose a Guy in Ten Seven Days G.W x Reader One Shot

Summary: Y/n proves to her best friends, Cho Chang, and Angelina Johnson that she can lose a guy in ten days. WC: 6.3k

Warnings: Ravenclaw! Reader, Fem! Reader, swearing, underaged drinking ,mentions of sex nothing graphic, yes like the movie, I have writer's block so I’m writing a one shot, set in Order of the Phoenix, Reader is a sixth-year. NOT PROOF READ bc I got lazy.

Day 1 “I just don’t understand where it all went wrong!” Cho dramatically fell back onto Y/n’s bed. Cho had brought up her horrible date at Madam Paddifoot’s Tea Shop with Harry Potter…again.

“Well…” Y/n wasn’t sure how to come about her words. With the recent passing of her friend’s late boyfriend last year, Y/n had been very careful with her choice of words around her friend. Who wouldn’t have been? “You did leave him at the shop, maybe you just need a bit of time before you get into the dating scene again, Cho.” Y/n sat down next to her friend, who was now sitting up. She put an arm around Cho’s shoulders, and rubbed her upper arm. “Any guy would’ve run for the hills like Harry. I mean– do you remember your first kiss with the boy?”

Cho had told Y/n everything from the mistletoe, to her crying into her ‘make out session’ with Harry Potter in the room of requirement. Cho snickered a bit, “Easy for you to say. No boy would ever run away from you, you’re too much of a catch.”

“You flatter me, Miss Chang.” Y/n rolled her eyes, and pulled her friend up. “Come on, I’ve been invited to the Gryffindor postseason Quidditch party, and you’re my plus one.”

Cho groaned. “Do we have to? Why couldn’t it have been Hufflepuff?” She whined as Y/n dragged her to the closet.

“Because.” She shrugged. Plus, Gryffindor throws the best parties, and I promised Angie I’d be at the next one after I bailed on her last time.” Y/n reasoned. “It’ll be fun~”

“Alright, alright. Only because it’s Friday night.” Cho reluctantly agreed.

By the time the girls had gotten to the Gryffindor common room, the party was in full swing. They had a long table of food, and drinks, and there were students from all houses enjoying themselves.

Angelina Johnson quickly spotted Y/n after she’d stepped into the common room a couple of minutes ago. “Y/n! You came! And you brought Cho!” She hugged Y/n tightly before pulling away. “Well don’t you two look nice?” Angelina smirked, and she twirled Y/n around.

“You look beautiful tonight, Angie.” Y/n giggled, and kissed Angelina on the cheek.

Angelina giggled too. “Come on, come on! Let’s get you two a drink in those hands!” She whooped over the chatter, taking a sip from her own red cup.

Across the room, unbeknownst to the girls, were five boys talking, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Lee Jordan, Fred Weasley, and George Weasley. “You’re delusional, mate!” Fred roared with laughter. “You couldn’t make anyone fall in love with you. Let alone in ten days!”

“I would beg to differ, ladies love me.” George slumped back into his chair.

“Correction, they love me.” Fred smuggly said, taking a sip from his cup.

“You’re barking!” Ron howled. “I believe in George, Fred might get the ladies, but Georgie can make a girl swoon.”

“Thanks, Ronald.” George cheered to him with his cup, before drinking a sip.

“Alright.” Fred grinned as a lightbulb appeared over his head. “I bet you can’t make a girl fall in love with you in ten days.” Harry was now tuned into this conversation, he’d been distracted ever since Cho walked into the common room.

“Ten days? Why so specific?” Lee asked, he too was intrigued by this wager.

“Seven days is too little, that’s only a week.” Fred explained. “But fifteen days is too much, then it gets too serious.”

“Alright deal.” George took up the bet, he loved a good challenge.

“Ah there’s a catch, brother.” Fred carefully warned.

“Lay it on me.” George challenged, whatever it was didn’t matter, George had loads of girl’s just like his twin brother at his beck and call.

“I get to pick the girl.” Fred shrugged, taking a sip out of his cup. “Do we have a bet?”

George had already gone and said he’d do it, he couldn’t back down– not with his dignity on the line. Even though the circumstances were less than ideal, he agreed. “Alright, who’s the girl?”

“You see that girl with Angie?” Fred pointed over at the entrance of the common room, all five boys instinctively looked, especially Harry Potter, who realised Cho was also with the group of girls. He hoped Fred wasn’t about to pick her. “The Ravenclaw girl that’s always with Chang? Pretty smile, being twirled by Angie?” Harry let out a sigh of relief. Fred had picked Cho’s friend: Y/n L/n

Fred had side knowledge about this girl to make it harder for George. He knew that in all of her six years at Hogwarts, she’d only had one boyfriend, Adrian Pucey. They were only together for about two weeks before she called it quits. She never wanted to date him in the first place, it was only because it was a double date with her, and Cho. The other boy Y/n couldn’t even remember the name of.

George knew who she was. Y/n was a sixth-year, he’d heard many things about her, and knew she was a fair chaser on the Ravenclaw team, but they’d never actually spoken before. “Y/n?” Said George.

“Bingo.” Fred raised his eyebrows. “We still got a bet, or are you too chicken?”

“You’re on, Freddie.” George chuckled, downing the rest of his drink. “I’ll have this girl liking me in one night.”

“Mmm,” Fred tried to speak, but he had a sip of his drink in his mouth, he only spoke once the burning liquor was down his throat. “Like, and love are two very different things, my dear brother.”

On the way to get their own drinks, somehow they’d gotten on the topic of Y/n’s love life. “Oh come on, Y/n! I never see you out and about with a fling!” Angelina urged. “There’s got to be someone.”

Y/n smiled, and shook her head. “Oh please. Boys are a waste of time. Especially Hogwarts boys.” Y/n giggled.

“Trust me, Angelina. I’ve tried.” Cho rolled her eyes.

“If I dated a boy, I’d lose him in ten days. I swear! They’d leave running!” Y/n sipped on her drink, she didn’t like drinking, but occasionally she would let loose with a cup of whatever sweetest liquor the party had to offer. “I bet my life on it.”

“No boy in their right mind would ever run away from you.” Angelina scoffed with a snicker, and drank from her cup.

“It’s true!” Y/n argued.

“Then do it.” Angelina smirked. “I don’t think a boy would go running away from you in ten days.”

“Is that a bet, Johnson?” Y/n tilted her head with a wicked smile. She loved wagers.

“You bet your ass it is, L/n. Find a boy tonight!” Angelina began to walk away to mingle with some other people. “I’m counting on it!”

“I won’t disappoint, Angie!” Y/n laughed as she walked into the crowd of people.

Y/n and Cho sat on a couch, talking to some of their other Ravenclaw friends, Maria Glossup, and Pamela Alton. “Y/n?” Maria smiled.

“Yes, Maria?” Y/n smiled back.

“Would you do me the biggest, fattest, favor ever, and please refill my cup?” Y/n was closer to the drinks table. Y/n laughed at her small yet long request.

“Of course, love.” She smiled, standing up, and grabbing her friend’s cup. “Anyone else?”

The other two girls shook their heads. “I’m all tapped out, Y/n.” Pamela slurred.

“Alright. I’m glad you know your limits, Pam.” Y/n laughed, before walking over to the drinks table. In Pamela’s defense, she’d arrived a lot earlier to the party than Cho, and Y/n did.

Y/n was minding her business pouring her friend a drink, she noticed a presence beside her. She ignored the person, thinking they were just waiting to also refill their cup, until he spoke.

“What’s a Ravenclaw like yourself doing at a party like this?” He smoothly asked. Y/n looked up to see one of the Weasley twins at her side. She almost let out a snarky remark, until she remembered Angelina’s words. Find someone tonight. Ten days, that's all it was, of course, George Weasley was thinking the same thing.

“The same as you.” She turned her body fully toward him. They stared at each other for a moment, it was as if they were both unsure of what they were doing. “Hi…” Y/n finally broke the silence, and put out a hand towards him. Y/n had never actually spoken to any of the Weasley’s, even in Dumbledore’s Army meetings. Y/n was half-way sure the twin she was talking to was George.

“Hi.” George smiled back, taking her hand. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting her hand to be so soft against his rough ones. Especially since she’d been so proficient in Quidditch. He expected at least a callus or two.

“Y/n L/n.” She introduced herself.

“George Weasley.” Y/n had never actually said this though out loud but she thought the last name Weasley was cute, it was close to Weasel, which were one of Y/n’s favorite animals.

“Cute.” Said Y/n. She hadn’t flirted with a boy since probably her fourth year.

“Thank you.” George smiled, he had thought Y/n was talking about him.

“I was talking about your name.” Y/n informed the boy.

George looked to the side sheepishly, before looking back at the girl in front of him. “Thank you two times.” George laughed, and she let out a small one too.

“Single?” Y/n asked, she knew far too well about the Weasley twins romantic endeavors, there were far too many to keep track.

“Currently.” George answered.

“Likewise.” Y/n smiled, leaning in just enough to tease him.

“Surprising.” George leaned down a bit, and tilted his head.

“Psycho?” Y/n questioned, now she was just joshing.

“Rarely.” George truthfully answered. Y/n remembered his beat down on Draco Malfoy just three months ago on the Quidditch Pitch, and striked his answer as truthful.

“Mmm.” Y/n acted like she was thinking about giving the boy a chance.

“Interested?” George tried his luck.

Y/n paused. “Perhaps.”

“Hungry?” George asked.

“Starving.” Y/n admitted, by the time her, and Cho had arrived at the party, all of the good food options had been taken by one student or another.

“Leaving.” Said George, he knew she would catch on, she was smart.

“Now?” Y/n questioned, like he was a mad man.

“Mhm.” George hummed. He couldn’t believe it was actually working, likewise for Y/n.

Y/n paused again, before agreeing. “Okay.” She softly said.

“Okay.” He agreed, and watched as she slipped away.

“Give me one second.” She smiled, holding up her pointer finger.

“I’ll meet you at the portrait!” He said to her now distant figure.

Y/n walked up to her friends, and pushed Maria’s cup into her hands. “Don’t look, but George Weasley is waiting for me at the portrait hole. He’s taking me somewhere.” Y/n watched as her friend’s eyes widened, and Pamela sobered up.

“The day has come!” Pamela cried, and she sat up.

“Don’t look! –” She tried to say but it was useless, Three three girls were all looking at George Weasley, and he was staring back at them. He smirked at Y/n’s back. She groaned. “I’ll be back at the dorm. I’ll see you guys later tonight.”

“Have fun!” Maria said as Y/n walked to George’s standing figure. The two walked out of the portrait hole, leaving the loud party behind them.

“I can’t believe he actually just did that.” Ron shook his head in disbelief.

“I thought you believed in him?” Fred snickered, although he was slightly nervous that he had already lost his bet.

“I do, but c’mon? Y/n L/n? No one’s had a chance with her like– ever.” Ron reasoned.

“So where are you taking me, Weasley?” Y/n asked as they walked through the dim castle. It was only about half past eight in the evening, although it felt like ten at night.

“You’ll see.” George only grabbed her hand, and dragged her with him at a faster pace. “If you don’t put a pep in your step, we’ll be caught by Filch, and Norris. Come on.”

Y/n appreciated the humor, she slightly laughed. “Alright.”

George led her to the fruit bowl painting. “I told you I was starving, so you take me to a painting of fruits?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “How thoughtful.” She deadpanned, this would be the longest ten days of her life.

“Do you really think I’m that daft?” George asked in a fake offended tone.

Y/n shrugged. “You Gryffindors are daring, not the brightest bulbs in the bunch.” She teased.

George laughed sarcastically, but he did acknowledge that it was a pretty good jab. “Very funny. If you're so clever, did you know this?” George tickled the pear, and the portrait popped open, Y/n almost gasped. “After you.”

Y/n climbed into the portrait, and was spit out into the grand kitchens of Hogwarts. “I’d always heard rumors, but I never dared to try it myself.”

“That’s what I’m here for. To be daring.” George played on her words from a couple of seconds ago.

Both George and Y/n had barely realised that this was basically their first time talking. Of course they’d seen each other in the halls, and had been against each other in Quidditch matches more times than they could count, but they’d never spoken.

Throughout dinner in the kitchens, they’d gotten to know each other exceptionally well. Birthdays, favorite colors, the works. What Y/n hadn’t expected was the conversation getting deep. “What do you want to do after school?” George suddenly asked her.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I still have a year left to go, you’ve got a couple of months.” Although Y/n knew it most likely would do with the business he, and his twin had now.

George shrugged. “Just trying to uncover the secrets of you. You’re so mysterious, Y/n.”

Y/n chuckled. “Do you want the real answer? Or the one I tell my parents to make them happy?”

“What do you want to do?” George confirmed.

“If it were up to me, I’d be writing spell books, and creating spells– charms, if we want to get specific.” Y/n answered.

“What do you tell your parents?” He asked, the house elves were now clearing away their dishes.

“My parents want me to get a Ministry job. Likely an unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries.” She shrugged, and muttered a small ‘thank you’ to the elf who took her plate. “It doesn’t sound all too bad, until you realise that you can’t speak about your job to anyone– a secret! I want to be able to go home, and rant to my husband about my day, you know?” Y/n ranted. It was probably the longest response George had gotten out of her all night.

“Yeah, I get it.” George nodded, he glanced towards the clock in the kitchens. “It’s getting pretty late. Do you want to head back to your dorm?” He asked.

Y/n thought for a moment, her dorm was empty. “Sure.” Y/n grabbed his hand, and led him out of the kitchens, headed straight for Ravenclaw Tower.

They approached the grand wooden door with a bronze eagle on the front of it with a large knocker. As soon as they approached, the eye of the eagle glowed red. “A man in a carriage saw three doors, one bronze, one silver, and one gold. Which door did he open first?”

Y/n had thought for a second, George was in awe, he’d hate to have to answer a conundrum every time he’d wished to get to his dorm. If it were him answering, he would’ve said gold, because gold meant first, but he allowed Y/n to answer. After a couple more seconds she chuckled.

“The man opened the carriage door first.” The Eagle’s eye dimmed, and the door opened. Y/n smiled proudly, she liked the daily challenge of the conundrum password.

Y/n walked into the common room entrance, George stayed back. “You coming? My dorm mates are all at the party.” George wasted no time in following the girl. He’d never been in the Ravenclaw common room, but it was huge. There were constellations plastered on the walls, and ceilings, telescopes on the balcony, it was a lot different than Gryfinndor tower. “I’ll warn you now, it’s a ton of stairs.” She giggled.

Finally making it to her dorm, Y/n let him settle in, while she used the bathroom. She knew from the start she would not give him anything of herself. Especially on day one of ten.

George on the other hand was scrambling to take off his shirt once the bathroom door closed behind her back. Until he remembered, this was a one night stand like he was used to, his goal was to make her fall in love. He quickly put his shirt back on just in time for her arrival back into her dorm.

George was sitting at her desk, he knew it was hers because of the framed picture of her, and her family on the right corner of the wood. “So, which one’s yours?” he motioned to the beds with his head.

“The bottom on the left.” Y/n sat on her desk next to him. The Ravenclaw dorms had bunk beds, Y/n wasn’t too keen on climbing up and down a ladder in the morning, and nights.

George grabbed the framed picture on her desk. “These are the parents that want you to work in the Ministry?” George asked in confirmation. Y/n nodded, leaning in a bit closer to look at the picture with him. “I think they don’t have a single clue what they’re talking about. I think you’d be an amazing Charms creator. I never in a million years would’ve been able to answer that riddle that quickly.” He chuckled, making her laugh too.

“Trust me, it took a lot of time to be able to get it at that speed. One time in first year, I had to sleep outside of the common room, because Cho, and I couldn’t figure out the riddle.” She laughed at the memory.

George laughed with his chest. “Did you really?”

“We did!” She laughed even harder. “We slept in the hospital wing, thank goodness it was a weekend.” Y/n sighed as she, and George's laughter cooled down.

George put the picture frame down. The two sat in silence, before catching each other’s gazes. Y/n wasn’t sure what it was, but she had the strong urge to kiss the boy. It wasn’t the alcohol acting as liquid courage, her drunk had been long gone, and sure, George Weasley wasn’t the worst to look at.

She leaned in, and he did too, meeting her in the middle. They both tasted of alcohol, however Y/n’s fruity drink clashed with George’s firewhisky. She hated firewhiskey, but it’d never tasted so good. Her arms went to his neck, and his hands to her waist. They pulled away to breath, and when Y/n leaned into him for more, he stopped her. “I think we should take this slow.” He whispered, surprising Y/n, but she obliged, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“Right…” Y/n said breathlessly. “Slow.” They’d stayed in their position, eyes still on one another's.

George wanted to make her fall in love, but he also wanted nothing more than to kiss her, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t heavily attracted to her. Who wouldn’t be? He was kissing the untouchable of Hogwarts. Fuck it.

In an instant George’s lips were on hers again. Y/n happily accepted the kiss, and even let him lift her up from the desk, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her to her bed. He broke the kiss only to let her down gently, before going back to kiss her again, they’d kissed for another good minute before they needed air. George dipped back down for more once he’d caught his breath, but Y/n stopped him. “I think we’re going too fast, Weasley.” She whispered with a dopey grin on her face. “I don’t want to be just another one of your girls.”

George chuckled. “Right.” He slowly stood up from under her cramped bed. “I should probably get going. I suspect your dorm mates will be back soon.”

“Right,” Y/n said, getting up. “I’ll walk you down.”

George denied. “Whoa, no.” He said. You’re already here, why would I make you walk down, and up those stairs again twice?” He laughed.

“You’re right.” She smiled, she hadn’t even thought about the stairs. She opened her dorm door for him. “Good night, Weasley.”

“Good night, darling.” He flirted, walking through the open door.

“Oh, nick-names already?” She tilted her head as she leaned on her door, and door frame, her dorm door now only open just enough to see just her from the outside. “That’s twice now.”

“Just how I work.” George shrugged.

“So you call all girls nicknames like that?” Y/n raised an eyebrow.

“No.” George shook his head seriously. “Just the pretty Ravenclaw ones that want to be an author one day.”

Y/n almost broke into a full fledged smile, as her cheeks burned. “Good night, George.” She’d managed to maintain herself.

“ ‘Night, Y/n.” He said, almost walking away, but Y/n grabbed his hand, before using it as leverage to kiss his cheek.

George’s own cheeks began to burn. He turned around taking his long flight down the stairs. When he got to the bottom of the spiral staircase, he noticed Y/n’s head peeping down at him from the top. He looked up, and waved before whispering to himself under his breath. “Oh god, you’re in love with me already.

Little did he know, she was muttering things to herself too. “I’m going to make you wish you were dead.” She muttered, waving too before blowing a kiss down the staircase.

Day 2 “So you guys didn’t–?” Y/n cut Maria off, as she stabbed a strawberry on her plate.

“No! We didn't. You know me, I am not an easy girl.” Y/n scoffed, shoving the fruit in her mouth. “Besides, this is just to prove a point.”

“I think there’s a part of you that actually likes him.” Pamela teased. “I mean, you didn’t fuck, but you did make out. Which in my books is so much more intimate than sex.”

“Pamela!” Y/n exclaimed, before whispering. “You are so loud!”

“It’s alright Y/n, don’t get your wand in a knot. It’s not like the whole party didn’t see the two of you leaving the party last night.” Cho joined in on the teasing.

Y/n was about to open her mouth to say something in her defense, when a group of twelve first-years approached her, all with their hands behind their backs. Y/n was stunned. “I’m sorry, can I help you?” She asked in her nicest voice, as they all stared at her.

One by one, each first-year gave her a red rose, garnering the attention of the students of Ravenclaw table and others. The twelfth first-year had the biggest rose, and a message. “From Mr. George Weasley, Miss!” He quickly said, before running off with the other first-years.

“And you said he was going to leave you in…how many days?” Maria teased.

Y/n could feel her face getting hot. “Shut it.” She got up, determined to give George the biggest turn off of his life, she was finished with her breakfast anyways. She walked up to him, and made her voice a bit higher than usual. “Oh!” She dramatically exclaimed as she walked up behind him. “Georgie-bear! That was so sweet of you! How romantic.”

George’s eyes furrowed at her change in demeanor from last night, but caught one glimpse of Fred’s gaze before pushing down his suspicion. “Of course, a dozen roses is a sign of love. To show you’re not just another one of ‘my girls’”

The use of the word Love scared Y/n, so much so that she almost broke character. But she continued. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest?” She pinched his cheek, and kissed the other, before going back to her friends. Angelina could see right through her, it was obvious Y/n was going an overly clingy, sweet girlfriend route to drive George away.

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest?” Fred teased his little brother, and looked at his friends, before they all completed the sentence.

“Georgie-bear!” Fred, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Lee said together, making George roll his eyes.

“Have the same energy when I win.” George warned his brother.

“Win, win what?” Angelina asked.

“Freddie here has bet that I can’t make a girl fall in love with me in ten days.” George informed her. Angelina’s jaw almost dropped at the coincidence.

“You’re going to break her heart.” Angelina shook her head and looked down at her breakfast. While Y/n was essentially also using George, it wasn’t half as bad as making someone fall in love with her.

Day 4

Y/n was surprised that George still hung around her. She had done numerous things to drive him away, she had acted super clingy, and then super distant, she’d even dragged him away from a prank he and Fred were doing to study with her in the library. Of course George had to oblige because his goal was to have her fall in love with him.

“How much longer are we going to be here for?” George complained for the second time in the hour.

“We’ve only been here for an hour, George.” One thing George really admired about Y/n, was her determination to telling he, and his brother apart. She’d been pretty good at it so far.

“An hour too long.” He groaned, putting his head down on the table.

Y/n groaned too. “Fine then!” She wasn’t actually angry, but she was actually trying to drive him away. “Just leave, since you want to go so bad.”

“What?” George’s head shot up. “Who said I’m leaving?”

“You. If you don’t want to spend time with me, that’s fine!” She whispered as they were in the library.

“No, no.” George grabbed her hands. “I want to spend all of my time with you. Even if it is in the most boring place at Hogwarts. Okay? Keep studying, I’ll stay quiet. I promised” He promised, hugging onto her waist.

Y/n gulped. She thought for surely he would’ve walked off, and they could call it quits. “Okay.” She whispered, going back to her book.

Day 5 Y/n had been doing everything in her power to drive George away, and he’d been doing everything in his power to make her fall for him. It was Tuesday after classes, and George invited Y/n to the Gryffindor common room.

The common room was much different from when there were parties. It was cozier, and it looked nice when there weren't so many people crowded around. George led Y/n to the couches, where his twin brother, little brother, little sister, Harry, and Hermione sat.

They seemed to be in an intense card game, however it wasn’t like any card game Y/n had seen before. “Hello.” She greeted timidly, it was intimidating being surrounded by people she’d never spoken to before.

George grabbed her shoulders. “You all know my girlfriend, Y/n. Y/n, Ginny, Ron, Fred, Hermione, and Harry.” He pointed them all out.Ginny turned around, and waved with a smile, and the others gave a nod or a wave. Y/n was stuck on the fact that George had just referred to her as his girlfriend. “Are you guys playing bluff?” Harry nodded. “I want in.”

“Next round!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m about to win.” It was his turn as well. “I’ve got two jacks.” Harry announced, putting his last two cards down.

Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed, two jacks would’ve been impossible, she had three. “Bluff!” She shouted.

“Damn.” Harry said, grabbing the cards in the middle.

“You catching on?” George asked, pulling her to sit in front of the fire with them.

“I think so.” Y/n nodded.

“It’s all about…reading people.” George told her, as they sat down.

After a couple of rounds, of just spectating, Y/n finally took up the offer of being in one game. “Georgie’s got the family record!” Ginny excitedly told Y/n, who was to her right. “You should see it when it’s the whole family playing, it’s vicious.” Ginny talked as Fred finished dealing the cards.

“Alright, Newbies first.” Fred said, looking at Y/n. George jokingly tried to peep at her cards, making Y/n push him back before deciding to play it safe. She took her ace of diamonds.

“I’ve got one ace.” She announced.

As the game progressed Y/n had come to find that she had been really good at bluffing…or really good at cheating. Y/n had the least amount of cards right now, George with the most. Ginny snickered. “I think this is the worst I’ve seen George lose at bluff.” She laughed as George thought about his move.

“I’ve got three kings.” George said, putting his three cards face down in the pile. Y/n looked at her hand, she had one king, which made George’s move possible, but then she caught Ron’s eye after he’d furrowed his eyebrows, he shook his head at her.

“Bluff.” Y/n called instantly.

“Lift those cards up, Georgie.” Fred suppressed a smile.

George lifted his three cards, it was two kings, and one joker. He rolled his eyes, and picked up the cards in the middle before adding it to his own growing deck. He then suddenly turned to Y/n, and wrapped an arm around her neck. “You’re doing something. I know it.” He pulled her into him, making her laugh.

“You’re mad I’m better at this game than you are.” She pushed him off of her jokingly. “You see… it’s all about…reading, people.” She mocked his words.

In the next round, George put down four cards. “I have four queens.” Y/n looked at the others, some were shaking their heads, and some were nodding.

“Bluff..?” Y/n said, but she sounded like she was unsure. It was only then that George had caught on to their work against him.

He gasped. “You…cheaters! All of you. My own blood! My own family! And you!” He pointed to Y/n dramatically. “You’re supposed to help me! Not them!” It was obvious that his dramatics was to make the people around him laugh, and he did.

Y/n laughed with his family. A part of her felt like she didn’t want to drive him away anymore.

Day 7 By day seven her feelings had only grown worse. She’d fallen for George Weasley, but she couldn’t admit that, however in potions, she had been partnered up with Angelina, they were both in the same N.E.W.T.S class. Angelina had a knack for making people speak about their feelings, she was a good therapist. “I don’t know Angie.” Y/n shrugged as she stirred her cauldron. “He’s not too bad, everything I do, it’s like– he won’t leave me alone, and– I think I’m starting to really like him.”

Now Angelina felt bad. “Y/n I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t tell you this.”

“What?” Y/n asked, brows furrowing together. “What’s wrong?”

Angelina sighed. “The night us girls made the bet, the twins made a bet too.”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped. “What…what was the bet?”

“The boy’s bet that George couldn’t make a girl fall in love with him in ten days.” Angelina told her, making Y/n’s heart drop, that was much worse than trying to drive the boy away.

“Oh.” Y/n said. Suddenly she didn’t want to speak anymore.

George was in a similar situation. He almost couldn’t believe his ears when he heard the voices of Y/n’s dorm mates. “Do you think Weasley’s going to leave her soon?” Pamela asked Maria.

“I don’t know, but she better think of something quick.” Maria snickered. “She’s got three more days to lose a guy in ten days.”

After Potions, Y/n found George waiting outside of her class. They stayed in the corridor until it was empty. “Lose a guy in ten days?” He questioned, and Y/n’s heart sank even further. “So that’s what I was. A guinea pig, something to test your theories on.” He seemed genuinely hurt, but Y/n was hurt too.

“Right, and I was a girl that was picked out at a party, just another one of your girls.” She scoffed.

“You aren’t just– you know what, Y/n. You did your job.” George sighed.

“Yes, I did.” Y/n stood her ground.

“You wanted to lose a guy in ten days, well you just, did.” George turned around to walk away, but Y/n wanted to get her last word in.

“No I didn’t, George.” She said, making him turn around. “You can’t lose something you never had.” She turned around, and began to walk towards the Ravenclaw tower. The moment she turned her back she let the tears fall.

When she got to her dorm, thank goodness only Cho was in there. “Y/n–” Cho took in her state. “Y/n…what happened?”

“Everything was fake, all of it.” Y/n hugged her friend. “Just when I was starting to actually like him.” She laughed sarcastically through her tears. “I hate boys.”

Cho had a bright idea. “Write to your mother. Tell her everything. I promise it’ll help to write it out. And I know how much you love to write.”

Y/n sniffled, it didn’t sound like a bad idea. Y/n stood up grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill. She wrote to her mother, and told her everything, start to end. Of course excluding the partying, and drinking.

She folded up the paper, and stuffed it in her bag. Cho gave her space, so she was alone in the dorm. Y/n splashed her face with water, and made her way to the Owlery.

She was walking pretty fast, she wanted to be back in her dorm as soon as possible. Of course in her flurry she bumped into someone. She looked up “I'm sorry–” She had to do a double take. Of course. “Fred.”

“Y/n, hey about the party–” Fred noticed how much George genuinely liked Y/n.

“You know what, I really need to get going. But we’re all good. No problems here.” She rambled before turning her heel, and dashing to the Owlery. So fast she hadn’t noticed the slip of parchment that flew out of her bag. The wind was so intense that it was left open.

Fred grabbed the letter, thinking it was just a piece of parchment he could throw away. He skimmed through the letter. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

“George! Georgie!” He exclaimed running from the portrait hole, and into the couches, where he sat spending time with Ginny, who was also upset that he, and Y/n broke up.

“George, you've got to see this.” Fred said out of breath.

George skimmed through the paper. “Where did you get this?” He whispered.

“Fell out of her bag. What are you doing? Go find her!” Fred encouraged his brother who was frozen in place.

George seemed to snap back. “Right! Where was she headed?” George asked.

“Towards the Owlery.” Fred said, as George ran out of the common room.

“Do you think she’s going to take him back? You two are gits.” Ginny asked.

“You should’ve seen that letter.” Fred raised his eyebrows with a shrug.

When Y/n got to the Owlery, and her letter was nowhere to be found, she panicked. If someone found the letter just out, and about she would be embarrassed for her entire life. The whole letter was pretty much Y/n explaining to her mother how she’d driven away the only boy she’d ever loved.

She ran down the steps of the Owlery, and back into the castle. She retraced her steps but paused when she saw George Weasley down the hall, holding her letter. She approached him quickly. “How did you get that–?”

“Is it true?” George asked.

“What?” Y/n breathed out. “George–”

“Is it true, or were you just writing empty words?” George asked again.

Y/n rolled her eyes to prevent the tears from falling. “I meant every word.” She admitted.

George walked up to her, and pulled her by the nape of her neck for a kiss. She happily accepted. “You were never just another girl.” He whispered. She smiled, and looked up at him.

“I guess I can’t lose a guy in ten days.”

#george wealsey x reader #george weasley #harry potter #fanfic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #how to lose a guy in 10 days

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