#the next movie should just be them making out

[peachesofteal]

more pizza girl

You're fucked.

It's the only way to explain how you feel, standing in the store, staring at bottles of liquor, wine, beer. You don't even know if this is the appropriate thing to do, but you've always seen it in shows, movies, so it must be, right?

You should have said no to this whole thing, should have told them you're busy, or you're working, or you had plans, but for some reason, you just knew they'd see through it. They'd call your bluff.

So here you were, staring at a rack of wine, trying to pick something to take to their house for dinner.

Even the thought is a marvel. You're not a complete shut in, you visit the few friends you have on occasion, your family, attend work functions, but this is different.

You know it is.

"Excuse me?" A petite old lady chirps at your shoulder, and you turn. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, um... no."

"You sure? It's just you've been standing here for almost thirty minutes." Fuck. 

"I'm fine." It comes out more assertive than you would have liked, and she backs away without another word. Great. 

You choose a six pack and book it out of there.

Their place is cozy. Not too small, not too big, clean and organized, orderly.

Except for the dog.

He's massive. 

And slobbery.

And... not for you.

Simon realizes immediately, and herds him away behind a baby gate, where he promptly slumps to the floor and closes his eyes, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

"He's..."

"Ye dinnae have to say cute. We know he's not."

"He's a mutt," Simon tells you, placing a bowl of something hot on the table, "but he's ours. Rescued him an' everything. Never liked pets but... found him on the street an' for some reason couldn't leave him behind."

"That's so sweet." He shrugs, Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Didnae tell me a thing. Just came home with a giant slobbering bear." You eye the table and it's three chairs, suddenly overflowing with anxiety. Which one should you pick? Which ones are theirs? Do they sit next to each other? Doesn't someone always sit at the head of the table? "Take a seat wherever," Johnny coaxes but you remain frozen, avoiding their eyes.

A hand folds over your shoulder with gentle, careful pressure, and warmth. "This one." Simon urges you towards the one in the middle, and you relax, grateful.

"Sorry." You mumble, but Johnny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for. We're really happy you came."

"I... I'm glad I came too." The admission tries to stick in your throat before you force it free, and they reward you with soft smiles.

"Let's eat then."

Dinner passes in a breeze. It's so easy to sit with them, be around them. Involved in their conversation but comfortable enough to bow out of it too, and just listen. They're very good at navigating it, knowing when to stop and go, when to ask you something, and when to move on.

"If you want to stay for a bit, we were thinking about watching a movie. Afraid we're not really exciting." Simon calls over his shoulder, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on his face.

"Oh." Just do it, do it, do it- "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah but no... nothing scary. I can't do those." Johnny jerks his head towards the couch.

"Nothin' scary."

Simon doesn't give you the opportunity to stress over the seating arrangement this time, and points immediately to the left side of the couch. "The button down on the side will extend the footrest, and it can lean all the way back."

"Wow." Johnny settles on the other side, and Simon takes up an overstuffed armchair to your right.

Lots of distance. You kind of feel sad about it.

Your eyelids start to droop after an hour, and no matter how hard you fight it, you're in a losing battle. "I think I should go home." You mumble, and Simon pauses the screen.

"You alright?"

"I'm falling asleep." You don't make any moves to get up, instead curling in closer, tucking your hands under your cheek. The room is warm, the couch is soft, and the dog is snoring, which is comforting, in a weird way. "Should call an uber."

"We'll drive ye."

"No, no... I'm-" you yawn. You don't want to move, and when no one says anything, you let your eyes close for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

In the dark, who knows what time or how many minutes or hours later, a blanket is tucked around your shoulders, shoes slipped off your feet, and someone strokes your cheek, trailing up over your forehead and away, lingering briefly.

"Sleep tight sweet girl."

[djotime-allthetime]

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?

[mydarlingclaudia]

lalala I’m not immune to him… butcher Simon and fem!reader

wc : 882

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

sigh. Butcher!Simon Riley.

You're new in town, you need a job, you need to have something to do. Too bad that no one besides the small coffee shop a few minutes away was hiring, you got the job, but they could only offer you time to work in the mornings.

After the first week, one of your coworkers told you about the butcher shop down the street that could really use some help (even though the owner refused to put up a sign in the window or anything of the sort), it really wasn't an awful idea to give it a shot, yeah?

The first thing you notice when you walk into the small shop is that the man behind the counter is huge, like, stereotypical slasher kind of huge with a few scars on his face to really sell the look. He hardly pays you any mind, just a small glance and "What'cha gettin'?" while he wipes his hands on his apron.

You panic, mumble out that a few slices of pepperoni and salami is fine, then watch him work for a few odd moments before you ask him if there's any chance you could get a job there.

He once again just glances at you before handing the meat off to you and telling you to come back the next day at 4:30.

So– you get the job.

Simon–your boss's name, apparently–figured there was no harm in hiring you, you'd be working in the afternoon and cutting meat isn't too difficult. Plus, seeing your face light up when he told you the good news made him feel better.

The whole thing comes almost naturally, you don't mind the clean-up that needs to be done afterwards and you're good with the customers, it certainly makes everything easier for Simon. Another good thing is that he lives right above the shop, so if there's no customers that day, he'll just send you home, he can come downstairs if someone knocks on the door.

He's stopped by the coffee shop a few times, too, he normally makes a comment along the lines of "Busy girl, aye?" or "See you in an hour." but it’s easy to brush off.

It’s only after a couple of months when Simon really starts to talk to you, before it had just been him asking about your day or talking about shipments and customers, but now it’s asking about your favorite movies and if you’ve gone to that nice restaurant just outside of town yet, if you’ve got any plans for the weekend and “Wanna know somethin’ funny?”

Turns out he was in some kind of military, you only found out when he had leaned over the counter when someone was ordering and a pair of dog tags slid out from the front of his shirt. Simon tucked them back under his shirt when the customer left, so you thought it was better not to ask.

Anyway, he keeps getting friendlier with you. Telling you that you could take more of the tips from the tip jar was, going out to get lunch for the both of you and evening bringing you food he made from time to time, offering to walk you home, normal things. What you considered a bit odd was when he’d start helping you adjust your jacket whenever you’d put it on to leave or when he’d bring you actual gifts like earrings and sweaters that he said he didn’t need anymore.

Even though you thought it was strange, you liked it, Simon’s a lot sweeter than he looks.

Watching him work is great, too. You’re in no way complaining that you get to see the muscles underneath his shirt flexing nearly everyday, the doting and pet names he calls you are another added bonus.

Once you’ve been working there for nearly a year, he starts inviting you up to his apartment for dinner and insisting that you should just stay with him when the weather is bad. You just brush it off each time, saying you don’t want to intrude and that a little bit of snow wouldn’t hurt you, but the look in his eyes makes your gut twist and you almost say yes.

If that wasn’t enough for you to want to go home with him, then maybe the soft touches would be. Whenever Simon’s hands were clean, there’d always be a steadying hand on your back or a gentle squeeze to your hip when he passes behind you.

Besides, the time Simon decided the shop was closing early when it was almost time for you to go home for the night had been special, but that’s because he asked you, “Y’doin’ anythin’ tonight?” when you were putting on your jacket.

You never do much of anything at home, so you thought nothing of it when you shook your head and turned to the door, but once again, his big hands found their way to your waist and a kiss was planted to the corner of your eye before you could really process that Simon was ushering you out and walking beside you.

”Then we’re goin’ out tonight, ‘kay? Proper like.” You weren’t going to say no, and his hand that squeezed more made it feel like he was planning on keeping you.

[thechaoticcherub]

Sheep Keeping Age

Pairing: Jackson!Friends Dad!Joel Miller x innocent reader

Summary: Joel keeps the flock of sheep in Jackson, you and Ellie become friends, partially because you think it's cute that he keeps sheep.

Warnings: 18+, explicit content, innocence kink, virgin!reader, big age gap(around 40 years), old!joel miller, frustrated!joel miller, some (very) light manhandling, edging, fingering, dirty talk, no use of y/n, pet names, farming, ellie briefly, pussy pronouns

Notes: My first Joel fic! I hope you like it! this isn't really proofread and def not beta read so sorry but that's just how i roll. Ten thousand cherub points to anyone who knows what the title references.

Word count: 4.4 K

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The first week after you became friends with Ellie, you hung out with her in the garage of her dad, well, her Joel’s house. She was in the process of fixing it up to be her apartment and you had agreed to help her move some stuff around. You had caught sight of Joel through the window of the garage, he was in the paddock just past his house where Jackson’s sheep were kept. He was carrying a bucket of water to fill their trough and stopping to rub one of the sheep that followed after him behind the ears while they all brayed at him. Joel was really good looking for an older guy, broad through his shoulders and chest with a lined and deeply etched but handsome face. His hair was peppered with grey and there was something about his prominent nose and jaw that made you want to stare. You had seen him at other times in Jackson, from across the mess hall when he came in looking for his brother while a movie played in the evening. You had watched him then, your eyes tracking his movements across the building instead of paying attention to the projector screen. You had seen him at the pub, late in the evening when you’d go in to play cards with friends, he would be sitting at the bar with Tommy, drinking and talking in low voices. You had always been friendly, saying “hi Mr. Miller!” all brightly, smiling and sweet. Every time he would give you an awkward ‘’llo’” and then look away as if you were dangerous to look at for too long. You had always found him attractive, but he continuously hurt your feelings. 

“Why are you staring at Joel?” Elli asked, knocking you from your thoughts as you stared out the window. 

“Oh I just didn’t realize he took care of the sheep,” You said, making up an excuse. Ellie snorted with brief laughter, 

“Honestly, I think the sheep are the old fucker’s best friends. He definitely likes them more than probably anyone else.” She said, glancing out the window. 

“It’s kinda sweet,” You said, “Shows he isn’t just a closed off asshole,” You finished. Ellie shrugged, “Orrr it means he’s really closed off. Come help me move this desk,” She said.  

The second week after you became friends with Ellie, it had really started to feel like springtime around Jackson and you had walked over to see if Ellie was home. When she hadn’t answered your knocks on the door into the garage, you had wandered around the back of the building towards the paddock. You spotted Joel by the barn, so you put your foot up on the wooden fence and swung your leg over before hopping down and walking over. 

“Hey Mr. Miller!” You called as you approached him, he glanced over and then quickly looked away, as if the sight of you had burned him or something. 

“Hey,” His voice was gruff and short, “You lookin’ for Ellie?” He asked. You walked up to him and shrugged, “I was, she’s not here though, is she?” You asked. 

“Nope. On Patrol with Tommy,” He told you. It sounded like a dismissal, like you should leave. There was a sheep laying against the side of the barn, her breathing was a little heavy and Joel crouched down next to her, feeding her out of the palm of his hand. His forehead was pinched in worry. You didn’t want to be dismissed. You had come all the way to the house and you liked animals. Maybe you could learn how to help with the sheep and if that meant getting to spend a little more time around Joel then so be it. 

“Is something wrong with her?” You asked, crouching down next to Joel and reaching out to touch the sheep’s back, giving her a pat. Joel shifted so he wasn’t close to touching you, and glanced over at you, 

“Nothin’ wrong, jus’ pregnant and ready to be done I ‘spose,” Joel said. You immediately cooed, 

“Aww there’s going to be lambs soon?” you asked, excited, you turned your head to look at Joel, your fingers still in the sheeps slightly dirty wool. You watched as he nodded, “Yup, hopefully not too long,” he said, he looked over at you and it was as if he hadn’t been expecting you to be looking at him. He looked a little startled to meet your eyes, you watched as his eyes moved from yours to your cheeks, a little pink from the cool spring air, to your lips, slightly pursed as you watched him. “Look, darlin’,” he stood up suddenly and the movement almost knocked you backwards into the mud. Him calling you ‘darlin’ got your heart fluttering and your cheeks flushing. “I can tell Ellie you stopped by later if you-”

“I can help with the lambs when they come!” You interjected. “I love animals and I bet I could be a big help with the sheep, I’d love to learn about it.” you told him hopefully. Joel’s eyes moved over your eager face, his brow was pinched in that familiar concern. It was like he was thinking of ways to reject you. You didn’t understand, was he really just this anti-social or was it something about you specifically? You had seen him talking to other people just fine, while he wasn’t the friendliest person he made  conversation with them, but ever since the first time you met Joel he hadn’t wanted to talk to you for long. And it wasn’t like he just didn’t pay attention to you, you had seen him looking at you almost as much as you had caught yourself staring at him. You would turn your head while talking to someone in the town square and he would be looking at you, as if you irritated him. You had once briefly thought maybe he was looking at you because he thought you were pretty but the fact that he never said more than a couple words to you dissuaded you of that.

“I dunno, I’m guessin’ there’s better things a girl like you-” 

“Oh come on, Mr. Miller! I want to help out!” You grinned at him and for a split second, his face cleared of concern and he looked ten years younger but then the almost frustrated look was back but he shrugged, “Alright, if that’s what ya want,” He said. 

The fourth week after you became friends with Ellie, the sheep had been born and you had spent every day since at the paddock behind the Miller house. Joel had shown you all around the sheep barn, told you about their schedules, and taught you a lot but mostly you snuggled the newborn lambs while he did the heavy lifting. You had gotten him to stitch a few sentences together to you and even joked with him occasionally, 

“Not sure why I let ya keep comin’ back if i’m going to be the only one haulin’ the shit,” He had said one afternoon while you sat on one of the rails of the wooden fence, cradling a lamb in your arms, one booted foot swinging back and forth and he cleaned out the stalls in the barn. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like my company, Mr. Miller!” You called to him, rubbing the lamb under his chin. Joel snorted as he came out of the barn, 

“I’d like it better if you did some chores,” he said, “Instead of snuggling the babies and then leavin’ me out here the second Ellie comes home.” it had sounded harsh but you could see the light in his eyes. He may tease you about helping but he hadn’t ever insisted you pick up a shovel.  You blushed,

“Do you miss me when I leave ya, Mr. Miller?” You asked boldly, eyes shining with mischief as you looked over at him. 

“I told ya to call me, Joel, darlin’” He said, not answering your question. 

One day that week you had shown up in a dress, it had been too warm for jeans, and snuggling lambs wasn’t such hard work that you needed to wear work clothes. When Joel saw you walking up in boots and a floaty cotton dress he had rolled his eyes,

“We’re droppin all pretenses now, aint we?” He asked. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr Miller” You answered lightheartedly as you climbed up and over the fence. You knew he had wanted you to call him Joel, but the way Mr. Miller slid off your tongue like honey was too good to pass up.  Joel’s eyes raked over you as you threw a leg over the fence and hopped down, your dress fluttering around your thighs. 

“Mhm,” he said. “You go prancing around town like this a lot?” he asked, you looked over at him, his eyes had darkened slightly and you wondered if it pissed him off that you hadn’t even come dressed like you could do work if he needed you to. 

“No? I mean…I wear dresses sometimes,” You admitted, “You know that,” you added. He had seen you in dresses before, not that you thought he had noticed. He raised his eyebrows and said nothing, going back to his work. You spent the afternoon with the lambs and their mother, taking them farther out into the paddock to let their mother eat the clover there while you bottle fed the two babies. You caught Joel looking over at you three times that day. Once he was stopped just outside the barn and watching as you knelt in the grass in front of one of the lambs, you had felt his eyes on you so you made sure you smiled and looked cute while you fed the lamb with the bottle. You wanted him to look at you, you wanted your wildest fantasies of Joel Miller thinking you were pretty to come true. Finally you allowed yourself to turn and catch him looking, when he saw you look back at him he hurriedly kept working. 

The second time, you were bent over, picking up one of the lambs and when you straightened up, your cheeks flushed as you caught Joel staring at you from just a few yards away. You realized you had probably shown off too much when you bent over, your underwear might have even been peeking out. Mortified it was you who broke away from this gaze, you refused to look back up until you could hear Joel open the door to the equipment shed. 

The last time was when you were leading the lambs and their mother sheep back towards the barn, you were going to go home soon and you were twisting the hem of your dress around your finger over and over again, pulling it shorter and shorter absentmindedly. You were focused on the lambs, hurrying them along when you turned and noticed Joel filling a bucket with water at a spigot, it was unmistakable that his eyes were on your legs. You knew your body shouldn’t warm at the thought of him looking at you like that. He was the father of a good friend of yours. He was at least 40 years older than you. You hadn’t meant to try and show off to him but what if he thought you were just that type of girl now? What he thought shouldn’t matter to you, but it did and so when he looked up and noticed you had caught him looking again, you were the one who looked away in shame even though it should have been him. 

Once you got the lambs and their mother put into their stall in the barn you came out and looked around for Joel. He was standing by the fence, leaning against it and watching the sun slowly begin to sink behind the mountains. You wandered over to him and stood next to him, you could smell him when you stood so close. Something like heady leather, rich coffee beans and the tang of the outdoors and man. You wanted to bury your nose in his shoulder to keep smelling it. 

“Mr. Miller-” You started to say but before you could apologize for wearing a dress, for not doing enough chores, for anything you might have done to upset him, ever, he grabbed your upper arm, turning so you were the one pushed up against one of the fence posts. His hand dropped from your arm to your hip, keeping you snug against the wood. The movement knocked the wind out of you, your mouth fell open and you let out a little, oof. 

“Knock it off with that Mr. Miller shit,” Joel breathed. His body was so close to you, one of his legs wedged between yours, his large hand tight on your hip, pressing through the fabric of your dress and squeezing your flesh. 

“I’m sor-” “Don’t say it.” He growled, “You come to my house lookin’ like-” he cut himself off, his eyes moving down your frame, raking over every bit of you, making you feel even more exposed than you already did. His lips twisted in what seemed like it was distaste, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Next time you come over here, you better go back to being a good girl and wear jeans or somethin’ otherwise I’ll be fixin’ to do somethin’ I’ll regret.” His voice was dangerous and it set something boiling in you. You stared up at him, eyes wide, unsure. Joel’s dark eyes felt like flames as they stared down at you, scorching you, tearing at you. You wanted to be a good girl, but even more than that, you wanted him to do that thing he’d regret,

“But, Mr. Miller-” The words slipped out of you, and you couldn’t finish the sentence before his hand found your jaw. His thumb pressed into one cheek, his fingers pressed into the other, making you look up at him.

“Enough of that.” he said. “Don’t let me catch you in a dress like that again.” He said and it sounded like nothing but a challenge. He pushed you back slightly as he took a step away from you and then turned and left you there in the darkening paddock. 

The fifth week you were friends with Ellie, you wore a dress every single day but Joel hid for you. He signed up for Patrol on the day you were supposed to go to help with the sheep. He was never at the pub or the mess hall at the same time as you. You spent time with Ellie in the converted garage, talking about friends, about Ellie’s girlfriend, and you tried your absolute hardest not to ask her about Joel and whether or not he had asked about you. You stayed late at her place, playing cards,  and when you lost your third hand of Egyptian Ratscrew you decided to head home. As you were saying goodbye, you noticed a light flick on in Joel’s place. Your heart skipped at least two beats and as soon as Ellie’s door closed, leaving you in darkness, your feet changed course from the road that lead back to the mainstreet of town and to the nearby house. You walked along the driveway and to the front door where there was less of a chance of Ellie seeing you than the back door. You weren’t even sure what you were going to do when he answered the door, what reason you were possibly going to give for coming to his house late at night, the instant you saw that he was home but your feet led you to the door anyway and before you knew it, you were knocking. 

When Joel answered the door you looked exhausted and wary, his expression turned to something you couldn’t quite recognize the second he saw you standing there, booted toes pressed together, thin dress still swishing around your thighs from your movement. Maybe the expression was irritation, maybe it was shock, maybe it was hunger. 

“Mr. Miller,” You said, testing it in your mouth, unsure of what words would come next even as you spoke. You didn’t have an excuse. The title served as a propellant, something that burned fast and hot, sending Joel careening into you. He took one step over the threshold of the door, towering above you and then grabbed both your forearms and tugged you hard. Your immediate reaction was to try and put your arms up to push him back but he held you firm and gave you a little shake,

“I told you not to let me catch you wearing a dress again, little girl.” He said. You struggled with him for a second, trying to shake your forearms out of his grip, but it was no use and you didn’t really want to anyway. You stuttered for a second,

“I’m…I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” The honeyed burn of that caused him to drag you over the threshold of his front door and slam it behind him. 

“You’re gunna be, darlin’” Joel dragged you through the entryway of the house and into the kitchen. He pushed you back into the counter, his body pressing into you again, his breath against your face. “You really think you can just be flirtin’ with me, tease me for weeks and then show up at my house in the middle of the night when I’ve been doin’ my damn best to avoid you?” 

You wanted to say you hadn’t meant to tease him, you hadn’t thought you were flirting, but thinking back on it, you had always gone out of your way to say hi. You had fluttered your eyelashes at him, and flipped your hair. Had you been that blatant? “N-no! I didn’t mean-” You started but you couldn’t even finish it. 

“You just a little slut, is that it?”Joel asked, his hands started to bunch up your dress around your hips. You gasped. No, you weren’t a slut, you hadn’t ever had sex. You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend. You hadn’t wanted to make any time for the boys in Jackson but you had been wanting Joel for a while. You tried to protest but again, the words died in your throat before they could come out because Joel was holding your dress bunched up in one hand while running a thick finger along the waistband of your underwear. “Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He breathed, his forehead was pressed into yours, you could feel his hot breath and his body pressing into yours. Yes, you did want it, but admitting that was admitting you had been acting this way specifically to get it.

“N-No!” You whined, pressing your back against the counter, trying to get away from his prying fingers but also desperately wanting it. “J-Joel!” You gasped as his hand pushed into your underwear, his fingers dipped into your slick folds, his middle finger slid up the seam of your pussy. When he reached the crest of your labia, his fingers seamlessly found your clit and tapped it, sending a spasm of pleasure through you. As quickly as he had shoved his hand into your underwear, he pulled it out, holding it up in front of your face to show off his fingers coated in your slick.

“Does this seem like no, to you, little darlin?” He asks, his voice sardonic. Your brow furrows as you look at your own juices coating his fingers. 

“Joel, I-I’ve never-” You whine and squirm where you’re standing, not sure how to say it, suddenly nervous this will all stop if you tell him. Joel reaches up with the hand that had so painfully briefly been touching your slit and cups your chin, surprisingly gentle,

“Never what, baby? Come on, spit it out, little girl.” His voice is husky, he leans in towards you, his nose pressing into the hollow of your cheek. 

“I’ve never been touched like…like that,” You manage to blurt out and Joel’s whole body seems to pause. For a moment you think he’s going to stop, he’s going to push you away and tell you to get lost, that you’re too young. But then the hand cupping your chin tightens and you feel his sharp, scratchy stubble against your cheek as he gives you a wet kiss there. He pulls back,

“Aint no one but me’s ever got the pleasure of touchin’ that pretty pussy?” he asks, there was a smile in his voice and you relax a little, he wasn’t about to shove you away. You shake your head slowly, looking up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Well, I should get proper acquainted with her then, shouldn’t I?” The words made everything in your body feel wobbly, like liquid sloshing around. His hands grab your hips and lift you backwards onto the counter. Joel shoves your knees apart and his fingers drag up your thigh towards your undies. You watch as his head tilts down to look between your bodies, his fingers moving to hook into the side of your underwear and pull them aside. Nerves make you try and clamp your legs shut and push him back, whining his name in protest at him looking at your naked sex. 

“Aw, sweetheart, I just want a little peek at her,” He convinces softly, you still whine but let his hands pry your thighs apart. His hand slips down your leg to your ankle and grabs it, pushing it back so your heel is pressed into the counter and your legs are splayed open, your body leaning back slightly. Your heart races, the idea of being exposed to his eyes is too much, you know you’re soaking through your underwear and now he can see that. Joel looks down over your undies and slowly lets go of your ankle, making sure you’ll keep it there. His pointer finger slides down your thigh to your undies, very carefully pulling them to the side, his eyes drinking up the view. “ohh, pretty girl,” he says. “You’re soakin’ for me, darlin.” He says, his eyes flick up to your face. Your whole face is red with embarrassment and desire. Joel brings his thumb up to his mouth, licks it and strokes your clit. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart hammers. All the times you had tried to touch yourself had never even come close to the way this felt. You let out a moan, your head falling back against your shoulders. 

Joel watches his thumb circle your clit, setting a steady, dizzying pace. “Good girl,” Joel said as you mewl out moans. Your body is blazing with pleasure, you can feel yourself dripping, you had never been wet like this before and it’s all because of his thumb softly circling around your clit, barely grazing it and then flicking over it in a mesmerizing pattern.  “Look at her,” Joel says with a short chuckle, “She keeps getting wetter.” His gaze fixed on your pussy and you let out a string of whines. 

Your orgasm is starting to build, you can feel it burning inside you, growing and pulsing, so close but not quite there yet.  Joel’s thumb strokes over your clit and your breath catches in your throat,

“You close, little darlin?” He asked, “I can see your cunt clenching on nothing….she needs something in her, doesn’t she?” You nod vigorously, unable to talk, unable to form a coherent thought. You didn’t care that you had never had anything inside of you, you needed his thick fingers. Your eyes open and look down at him, his face is tilted down, examining your sex, his grey peppered hair pushed back away from his face. His eyes move up to meet yours,

“Beg me for it, sweetheart.” he says, his eyes dark with lust. Your mouth falls open, your brow furrows and you shake your head, 

“C-can’t.” You whined, pressing your hips forward towards his finger as it continues its slow calculated pace of stroking your clit. 

“Yes you can, beg me to fill you up. Your poor, soaking pussy needs it, darlin. Come on, use those words I know you have.” He coaxed. You had never felt so filthy, you wanted to beg for his thick fingers in your virgin pussy but you couldn’t find the words, your brain was mush. “Beg.” he instructed. You whined, feeling like you were going insane and finally the words tumbled out of you,

“Please…please, please fill me up. Finger me, J-Joel. I need it in my pussy. Oh god, please, I’m soaking for it, she needs your fingers in her, please, Joel!” You babbled and whined as his thumb continued to stroked around and around your clit, occasionally swiping over it, bringing you closer and closer to that building orgasm. 

“Say, ‘please finger fuck me, Mr. Miller.’” He instructed, his middle finger notching itself at your entrance, not quite pushing in, just teasing your hole. 

“ughhhh!! Please! Please finger fuck me, Mr. Miller!” You moaned out, louder than you thought you were capable of. Joel let out a satisfied chuckle but instead of pushing that middle finger into your eager hole, his whole hand moved away from your throbbing sex. He delicately took the side of your undies and replaced them back over your swollen sex. 

“Wha- oh god…no! Joel!” You whined, pressing your hips forward, your cunt clenching on nothing. 

“Nuh-uh,” Joel said, looking over your face, smirking. “You spent weeks teasing me.”

“I didn’t know I was-” “Bullshit, little darlin’” Joel said. “‘Please, Mr. Miller can I please spend all my time at your house caring for the cute little lambs, bending over and dressin’ like a slut’” He mimicked you meanly and raised his eyebrow at you. “If you’re going to act like a naughty girl, I’m going to treat you like a naughty little girl.” He said, leaning down to be level with you. You stared at him, feeling like you might go completely crazy. You opened your mouth and then closed it again. Joel pressed his lips to yours in a soft, chaste kiss. When he pulled away he touched your nose, 

“Say ‘thank you, Mr. Miller.’” he insisted. 

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” You mumbled, dazed. 

“Good girl, will you come check on the lambs tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “Ellie is on patrol all day.” Joel stroked his finger down the bridge of your nose. You gazed up into his eyes and nodded. 

“Yup, I really think sheep keeping is super interesting.” You said, still dazed and needy.

[woozisguitar]

buzzcut and hair bleached

pairing: vernon x reader (afab)

warnings: kissing, so so so much making out, grinding, tbh its straight up dry humping atp, swearing, suggestive??, so many taylor swift references lol, car sex is mentioned, I think thats all, either way MDNI

word count: 593 (sorry 😔) + 3 smau images at the end

a/n: so. ive never rlly kissed anyways or done anything mentioned so idk how accurate this stuff is, all I know is that vernon is hot as fuck heh. hope y'all like it and this is why I dont write smut its terrible sorry 😭😭😭😭

ps: credit to @/yoon_kth on twt for vernon pictures used in header.

you had just finished cooking when hansol texted you he was on his way back home and that he had a surprise for you. assuming it was another movie poster or limited edition figurine, you decided to not think about it much.  

you had just settled in on the couch with a book in hand as you waited for your boyfriend, when you heard the front door open. excited, you went up to greet him, but the sight rather left you baffled. there he was, your boyfriend, except all his hair was shaven. his new buzz cut adorned him, and you found it hilariously fitting how taylor swift’s “dress” was playing earlier.  

hansol blinked in surprise as you popped in front of him and gave you a sheepish, “surprise?”  

“what- when- how????” you asked, trying to wrap your head around your boyfriend’s new hairstyle and how attracted you were to it.  

“just today. i was tired of having to keep fixing them, changing color, long hair and makeup sessions. plus! the hair was super damaged, so you know, decided to just,” he made a small click sound, “shave it all off.” hansol waited a beat for your reaction before tentatively asking, “do you like it..?”  

you walked closer to him, now slowly feeling his freshly shaven head. “like it? god, hansol, you look so good you have no idea right now. i didn’t even know i was so much into buzz cuts,” you bit your lip barely making an attempt to conceal your need for him.

you’re not really sure what happened because one second you were reaching up to kiss hansol and the next he had you pinned against the wall in the hallway that led to your room. your lips moved against each other in a lustful haze, fighting each other for dominance. hansol grabbed the back of your thigh and pulled it around his waist, grinding harder against you. you bit his bottom lip trying to suppress a moan. your hand felt the back of his neck to his shoulder, slightly missing pulling his hair, but all your thoughts flew out of your head as hansol grinded harder against you and let out a deep groan, moving his lips faster. “hansol, room now,” you pulled back breathless and pulled him towards your room. you pushed him to your shared bed, straddling him and reconnecting your lips with the same force but this time, with you grinding on top of him this time. hansol’s hands moved to caress the back of your thigh to your waist, letting out soft hums and moans. you moved faster, trying to chase a high you knew only he could give you.  

“should i bleach my hair?” you said, slightly out of breath as your now very naked boyfriend chuckled, pulling you closer to his chest. he adjusted till you were both comfortable and looked down to meet your eyes. your hair messy, courtesy of your activities, eyes blown and still a little hazy, a slight sheen of sweat glistening in the glow of the bedside lamp, you looked so fucking beautiful that hansol thought he might just die under the weight of his feelings.  

“so you can post us with the caption, your buzz cut and my hair bleached?” hansol teased, making your cheeks warm up.  

“nooooo…” you dragged out, making him chuckle.  

“sure you don’t, my sweet little nerd,” hansol hummed, feeling content having you in his arms and letting the day’s exhaustion wash over you two, the soft hum of the air conditioner lulling you to sleep. 

a/n: sorry this website hates me it was supposed to go on earlier😔

[allthingsfangirl101]

Friendly Set-Up – Glen Powell

"Plleeeeeaaaassseeee?"

"Pass."

"Pretty please?"

"Nope."

"He's a great kisser!"

"How would you know?"

I smirked as Sarah's mouth opened and closed. "I've. . . heard from his. . . costars."

"All the more reason not to go out with him," I chuckled as I walked past her and into the kitchen.

"But Y/N," she whined as she followed me. "Just a coffee date. That's all I'm asking for. He was talking to me and the other girls about needing a woman in his life."

"Why would he. . . Actually, I don't care." I shook my head as I started making dinner.

"He told us that he missed taking care of a girl," she continued anyway. "He misses spoiling a girl, calling a girl during his lunch break, and picking up dinner on his way home to her."

"That's very sweet," I sighed, "but I'm not ready for another relationship."

"I know that Jason broke your heart," she said, running over to me. "But Glen is the exact opposite of him. He's just what you need! A pallet cleanser!"

"Sarah, stop!" I snapped a little too harshly at her. "I don't want to go on a date with the actor you put makeup on every morning, okay? I just want to be left alone so I can forget about Jason."

I didn't care that the ingredients were all over the counter. I turned and walked away, grabbed my keys, and got in my car. I didn't have to think about where I wanted to go.

I walked into the bar, sat down at my usual spot, and ordered my usual drink. I ran my fingers through my hair and cursed the tears that begged to fall.

Jason and I dated for almost two years. Over the years, he's gotten a lot less romantic. Finally, I made the mistake of making a small comment about marriage and he freaked out. He left and I got a text the next day saying that we should take a break.

As that bartender put my drink in front of me, I thought about how Sarah described Glen. He wanted a girl in his life. He wanted someone he could spoil. I smiled sadly when I realized it had been a long time since I felt like I was being spoiled by someone.

I shook my head, forcing myself to stop thinking about "what if". Jason broke up with me a week and a half ago. I needed more time to get over it.

"Son of a. . ." I grumbled when I saw my friends running into the bar. "Hi, girls."

"Hi, Y/N," Angela said a little too sweetly.

"I don't want to. . ."

"Would you please go out with him?" Sarah cut me off.

"Girls," I sighed.

"Come on, Y/N," she whined. "He's funny. He's attractive. He's successful. He's the total package."

"If he's the total package, why is he still single?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"He's an actor," Angela shrugged.

"And he can get any girl he wants," I sighed, "so why would he want to go out with me?"

"Oh sweetie," Kelly sighed. "You're amazing. We all instantly thought of you when Glen told us about how he wanted a new girl in his life."

"Why wouldn't he like you?" Sarah asked.

"He'd be lucky to have you," Angela added.

"You're too good for him," Maggie chuckled.

"Look," I cut the girls off, "I just broke up with Jason. I need some time before jumping into a new relationship. Thank you for thinking I'm good enough for a famous actor, but I'm gonna pass."

* * * * *

After A LOT of badgering from the girls, I finally agreed to meet Glen. I told them not to get their hopes up. I was only going and having coffee with the guy to get them to stop begging me. After trying not to overthink my sundress, I headed to the coffee shop that was close to my work and the office building where his current movie was filming.

I gave myself a slight pep talk before getting out of my car. I walked into the coffee shop, my nerves jumping all over. As I looked around the shop, I kept wondering why I agreed to meet a complete stranger. Suddenly, my eyes landed on a guy who looked exactly like my friends described. He noticed me and sent me a shy smile. I took a shaky breath before walking over to him.

"Are you Glen?" I asked.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"I'm Y/N, Sarah, Maggie, Angela, and Kelly's friend," I introduced myself. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw him relax. "You don't have to look so relieved."

"Sorry," he chuckled. "Our friends talked you up so much that I wasn't sure if you were real."

"I'm very real," I shrugged with a small giggle. "They probably lied about me though."

"I doubt that," he said, slightly looking me up and down. He looked back up at me and smiled. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"I'd like that," I smiled.

He turned and gestured toward the counter. When I walked by him, he gently put his hand on my lower back. I tried to force the butterflies in my stomach to go away as we went and ordered our coffee.

"Oh my gosh," the seventeen-year-old barista giggled. "You're. . . You're Glen Powell!" 

Glen looked at me with a blush on his face and cleared his throat. The girl continued to fangirl, "I am such a huge fan. I love you."

"Thank you," he said politely. "That's very sweet of you."

An older man behind the counter cleared his throat, sending his employee a "manager glare".

"Sorry," she cleared her throat. "What can I get you?"

Glen looked at me and gestured for me to order first. I smiled before turning toward the still-excited teenager. "Can I get a caramel latte?"

"Of course," she smiled. Her face turned pink as she turned toward Glen. "And you?"

"Just an iced coffee for me," he nodded. I started to pull out my wallet but he quickly grabbed his wallet and handed his card to the barista. She giggled as she took his card.

She rang us up and handed Glen his card back. "We'll call your name when they're ready," she giggled. I saw the look on his face slightly shift as he looked around the coffee shop.

"Actually," I jumped in, "can you call my name? We're on a first date and don't want to draw too much attention."

"Of course," the girl said, putting her hand to her hard. "That's so sweet. What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Great. They'll be right out."

I followed Glen to the corner table, out of sight of the windows and front counter. We sat down and there was an instant awkward tension between us.

"This is. . ." He said slowly.

"Awkward," I finished for him.

"Exactly," he chuckled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I waved off. "Going on a date that your friends bugged you until you said yes to go on is awkward."

"They bugged you?" He asked, his eyes slightly sinking.

"It's nothing against you," I said quickly. "I just. . . I wasn't sure I wanted to get back into dating."

"Back?" Glen asked.

"Coffees for Y/N?" The barista called. Glen looked at me and hesitated before getting up and getting our coffees. I pulled my hands into my lap and nervously played with my fingers.

"Here you go."

"Thank you," I said, my voice soft.

"Y/N," Glen said after a short beat of silence, "what did you mean earlier when you said you weren't sure if you wanted to get back into dating?"

"It's. . . not something I should bring up on our first date," I said.

"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

I looked up to see Glen smiling gently at me. "I just broke up with my boyfriend," I admitted.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at me sadly.

"Well, technically," I cleared my throat, "he broke up with me. After two years. All because I made a small hypothetical about marriage."

"He what?" Glen asked, slightly surprised. "What an idiot. For what it's worth, you dodged a bullet. He's missing out on an amazing girl."

I smiled weakly at his comment. "You met me like five minutes ago," I chuckled.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "I still think you're amazing."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around my coffee mainly to hide my blush.

"You told me yours," Glen said, making me look up at him. "It's only fair that I tell you my breakup story."

"You don't have to," I stuttered.

"It's only fair," he said with a small smirk. "I was dating an old costar. It got to the point where I was putting in more effort than her. We spent the entire last two months apart. Whenever I called, she didn't answer. And she never called."

"Did you break up with her?" I asked before I could think about it.

"I did," he nodded. He added, "After pictures from her movie leaked of her making out with her costar on the beach."

"I'm sorry," I said. "That's terrible. You didn't deserve her."

"You met me like five minutes ago," he said, instantly going back to his earlier self.

"Doesn't matter," I shrugged with a smile on my face.

For the next two hours, Glen and I sat and talked. We talked about our jobs, our family, our crazy friends. The more we talked, the more I started to fall for this guy. Sarah was right. He was extremely sweet. He maintained eye contact the entire conversation and seemed like he was hanging on my every word.

I was explaining my latest project at work when his phone started ringing. By the sigh that left his lips, I could tell that he had a theory for who was calling him and interrupting our date.

"I'm sorry," Glenn said, his smile sinking when he looked up from his phone. "It's my manager."

"Take it," I said. "I don't mind."

"But Y/N," he stuttered.

"It's okay," I said with a small laugh. "Answer your phone, Glen."

"I'm sorry," he whispered before answering his phone. "Hey, Mike."

I busied myself as he listened to his manager.

"What?" He asked, slightly turning away from me. I looked at my hands wrapped around my coffee. "Wait, right now? Mike, I'm kind of. . . I know that but. . . Fine. I'm on my way."

"You have to go?" I asked, unable to stop my voice from dropping.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N," he said, instantly turning back to me. "I completely forgot I have an interview in two hours."

"I'm going to have to get used to sharing you with the rest of the world, aren't I?" I fake pouted, making him laugh.

"Oh, please," he smirked. "My girl never has to share me."

As we stood up, Glen grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. "I really enjoyed getting to know you, Y/N."

"I really enjoyed getting to know you, Glen," I smiled. My breath got caught in my throat when Glen's eyes dropped to my lips. Before I could wonder whether or not he was going to go for it, he went for it.

Glen leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I gently grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. When we broke the kiss, we both had matching smiles.

"Does this mean you'd accept the offer to a second date if I asked?" His voice soft.

"If you asked."

* * * * *

After our date, each of the girls called and begged me to go to brunch so I could tell them all about it. I fixed my dress as I got out of my car and headed into the restaurant. The second I walked to our table, my friends all jumped up and started bombarding me with questions.

"How was it?"

"Did he buy your coffee?"

"Did he pull out your chair?"

"Did he hold your hand?"

"Did you guys talk for hours?"

"Did he ask you out again?"

"Did he kiss you?"

"Why aren't you answering our questions?"

"Because neither one of you has stopped to breathe," I chuckled.

"Okay," Sarah said in her bossy tone. "Enough questions. Just tell us how it went."

"It was fine," I shrugged.

"Fine?!" They all screamed in sync.

"Just fine?"

"Come on."

"You gotta give us more than that."

"Sorry," I said, standing up, catching all of them off-guard.

"Where are you going?" Sarah pouted.

"Hey, gorgeous."

The girls gasped as Glen walked up, wrapped his arm around my waist, and kissed my cheek. "You ready for lunch?"

"Absolutely," I smiled at him. I looked back at my friends and saw all of them smiling like crazy people.

"You girls don't mind me stealing Y/N away from you, do you?" Glen asked the girls.

"Of course not!" Sarah said loudly. "Take her for the rest of the day."

"Subtle," I scoffed as I rolled my eyes. Glen just laughed as he led us out of the restaurant. When we got to his car, he stopped and pulled me into his chest.

"You know," he whispered, "when I first told the girls I wanted a new girl in my life, I never thought I'd actually meet a girl I could see spending the rest of my life with."

"The rest of your. . ."

"I know this is crazy fast," he said quickly, "especially since we've only been on one date. . ."

"We texted until like 2 am," I said quickly trying to reassure him.

"True," he smiled. "As I was saying, I really like you, Y/N. And I think that we have something here."

"I think so, too," I whispered. With a smile on his face, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips moved in sync.

We didn't care that our friends were watching us from the restaurant window with proud smirks on their faces. Glen broke the kiss but didn't let me go.

"Y/N," he whispered. "I know you're still getting over Jason. But I'd like to help you with that."

"I don't want to use you."

"You wouldn't be using me," he said, shaking his head. "I'd just be helping you through the breakup."

I bit my lip, debating if I really wanted to go for it. "Fine," I gave in. I quickly added, "But only if you allow me to help you through your breakup."

"It's a deal."

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Part 4: Worldbuilding Pass

Next up, worldbuilding! We're tackling this before structure, because you don't want to get too far into the weeds, realize a critical component of your story is wrong, and then throw your computer out the window in frustration.

Anyway, when it comes to worldbuilding, there's a lot of moving parts. There is no right or wrong way to worldbuild, but my preferred approach is to worldbuild as the story goes along. Any method works, and you can check out the worldbuilding tag for more. In editing your worldbuilding, you want to think about:

Trimming Front-loading/Info Dumps

When writing fantasy/sci-fi, getting down how the world works can take over the story. In first drafting, this is fine! But when you're trying to clean that draft up, it's better to weave this information in as you go.

Need to explain how the giant mechas guarding the city operate? Maybe your main character is trying to steal some precious alloy from one, giving you opportunity to explain how they work and how society feels about them. Have a magic system that relies on singing tunes? Show that off by having students practicing, or dueling rivals taking it too far.

You probably know by now that the thing you should avoid the most is "as you know" dialogue dumps - characters explaining concepts to each other that they both clearly understand. Another, weaker version of this is the "magic class" trap, where things are explained to the main character and the reader. A classroom environment is fine, but pair worldbuilding with action - demonstrations get out of hand, spells go wrong, etc. Make it fun!

Your World Needs Clear Rules (Sorry)

Listen, this is the part I hate. I have a WIP with the word "Rules" in the title and I'm still figuring out what those rules are. Argh. But the sooner you know the rules, the easier editing will be. The more clear those rules are to the reader, the more impactful breaking them will be.

If the rules of the world (you can't use warp speed too close to a planet's gravitational pull, the same type of magic cancels each other out) and the consequences of breaking them are clear, the pay-off will be satisfying for both you and the reader.

Use Your Environment to Your Full Advantage

You've no doubt heard 'make setting a character' and that's evergreen advice. Some of the best books out there are those where it feels like you could step through the page and into a real place, be it your childhood middle school or Narnia. Getting that feeling, however, is more than just describing a place really well.

Mood - How does the location make you feel? Does a dark, cramped room leave the characters with a feeling of dread? How would that feeling change if it was an overstuffed library with comfortable chairs?

Weather - Beyond the 'dark and stormy night' descriptions, weather impacts our daily lives and is often overlooked. A rain-drenched funeral scenes seems like it's the way to go, but how differently would that scene feel if it was a sunny day with birds singing?

City Versus Countryside - These books are a great reference for description, but also take a step back to compare how different situations would feel both in the setting and to your character. Quiet can mean very different things depending on where you are. A morning fog in the countryside might feel comforting to someone used to it, but to someone new to that environment, it might feel creepy. Think about both your environment and how your character reacts to it based on their backstory.

The Empty Room Problem

This is always a big challenge when moving from the first draft bare bones basics to fleshing things out. How much description is too much? (As a note, it's always okay to overcorrect - you'll have a chance to fix it later!) This post from @novlr has a lot of great questions - but you're still going to narrow it down to the most important details.

Escape the Movie Setting - You cannot describe the room like it's a movie set. Trying to do so is going to be overwhelming, and important details will be lost in the attempt. If you were to describe your room or your favorite coffee shop and could only highlight four or five details, what would you focus on? What gives the reader the essence of the place rather than a list of things that exist there?

Establish the Essentials - Is this your first character's first time in this room? Is it going to be key to several plot-important scenes? Some big, sweeping details when entering - how big it is, what's in it, where the windows are, how it feels, etc - are good to start with. Your character can briefly admire a full bookshelf in the first scene, and then study it in more detail in the second. If you have one scene in this place and spend too much time describing it, you're going to make your reader think it's more important than it is.

Engage the Senses - Does an old room smell musty? Does the coldness of the woods have a sharp taste? Does touching a shelf bring up a lot of dust? How does the lighting in the room make the main character feel?

Getting down the description of a room or setting is not something you'll nail in one shot, but if you approach each scene asking yourself "does this feel like a real place or a white room?" you can narrow down what's missing.

[grudgecollector]

Afterglow | Nam-gyu / American!Reader

You're reading part four

Story Summary: Nam-gyu gets a new job and finds himself falling for the girl behind the deli counter.

Words: 1.9k

Tags/Warnings: Nam-gyu and Thanos have PTSD, canon divergence, Thanos lives, heavy angst, fighting, references to past substance abuse, slight suicidal ideation

A/N: Oh boy oh boy, now this is a chapter I cooked up with the devious side of my brain.

This is a particularly heavy chapter, lots of angst, but in the next one I'll make up for it I promise (maybe ;))

Also I'd like to thank you guys again for the continued love on the Afterglow series. I wasn't expecting to do this many chapters, but I love them.......

MASTERLIST | Mini playlist to fit the chapter

October thirty-first, Halloween, one of the most anticipated holidays for kids and adults alike. You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the idea of being able to celebrate with Nam-gyu. It made you feel like a kid all over again, happily trying to plan out costume ideas, helping decorate his apartment a little bit. You were trying hard not to go overboard with your excitement. 

Since Halloween wasn’t as popular in South Korea as it was in the United States, you wanted to make sure that you could give both him and Su-bong an authentic experience. Candy, costumes, make-up, scary movies. Even parties, which you were never fully privy to in the past, but willed yourself to make an exception this time around. 

You jiggled your spare key a little in the lock of Nam-gyu and Su-bong's apartment, wiping your feet on the welcome mat outside before removing your shoes. Your umbrella was still dripping on the concrete just outside the door, you silently hoped to yourself that nobody would take it while you were inside. 

Su-bong was sitting on the couch twirling a finger through his fresh hot pink hair, fingertips still stained in the dye. He was watching one of his many guilty pleasure shows at a low volume. His brows were knit together in what seemed to be concentration, and something a little more. 

“Hey, Su-bong.” You greeted with a smile, setting down a few of the things you had brought for tonight. 

His head snapped over to look at you, “Oh hey, didn’t hear you come in.” His own smile faltered a little, it was distant, the usual happy spark in his eyes replaced with something a lot more unrecognizable. 

“I think Nam-gyu’s still asleep.” He answered your unspoken question flatly. His usual teasing and friendly demeanor shut away. 

Strange…

All you could do was nod. Your eyes stayed on him for a beat longer than usual before you made your way down the short hallway to your boyfriend’s room.

You carefully grasped the knob to his door and opened it slowly, not wanting to accidentally wake him up. There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke that lingered in the air. His room was almost pitch black if it wasn’t for the little bit of light let in by the open door. 

Right on the bed was the outline of your boyfriend underneath the covers. His weighted blanket was pulled tight around his shoulder as he laid on his side, breaths coming out in slow quiet snores. 

Worry tugged at your heart, it was four in the afternoon, usually he never slept this long. 

You passed the threshold of his doorway, closing the door quietly behind you. A part of you didn’t want to disturb him, deep in your stomach you know you should just leave him be. But you just couldn’t, not with the thorny feeling of curiosity jabbing itself into your side.

“Nam-gyu.” You whispered softly, a gentle hand settling itself on his covered shoulder. “Honey it’s really late, you should probably wake up.” 

He woke up with a startled gasp, his body going completely rigid underneath his sheets. You could hear his quickened breaths against his pillow, a tell-tale sign you recognized all too quickly. You were quick to press the switch to the lamp on his nightstand, his room being cast in a soft yellow light. 

There in the bed lay your boyfriend, a trembling man under a heap of blankets. He glanced over his shoulder with worried eyes, tears already brimming. Almost a year with him and you had never seen him so utterly terrified. 

Your name fell from his wobbly lips, trapped within a choked sob, he looked like a scared child seeking comfort. 

You wasted no time making your way to your usual spot on the bed, sliding underneath the heavy sheets and bringing him into your chest.

The sobs he released into your shirt were raw with emotion, as if they were being torn from his body unwillingly. You didn’t care that his tears and snot were seeping through the fabric and onto your chest. 

He was shaking like a leaf in your arms, hiccuping sobs forcing his fingers to grip tighter around the back of your shirt. 

~~~

Su-bong clenched his jaw at the sound of Nam-gyu’s sobs. A part of him wanted to storm into his friends room and tell you to leave, that he would handle things himself. But he couldn’t… He wouldn’t do that to either of you. 

You were the closest thing to normalcy Nam-gyu has had in his life since the games. Su-bong knew that more than anyone ever would. 

He watched for two years as his friend dragged his body through life pathetically. Picking at his arms every now and then as the itch, the urge, that unmatchable craving started to eat at him as he was consumed by his ever present thoughts. 

And once you came along, the dust finally seemed to settle. It was like watching his friend be built back into the man he met, while he wasn’t as selfish or as snide as he used to be, he finally found his smile again. His laugh no longer sounded forced.

He was finally happy. 

Su-bong would be lying to himself if he said that you being around was a comfort for him too. After the things both Nam-gyu and him did back in South Korea, they both needed that reminder that innocent minds such as yours were to be cherished. Those genuine smiles and laughs, clueless to the true horrors in the world. 

Nam-gyu was always so distant around the anniversary of the games. Shut off from the world, sleeping away the day just so he didn’t slip back into old habits. He always looked so hollow when he would finally show his face, dark bags under his puffy eyes, hair a mess, wearing the same exact clothes that he had been wearing four days before. 

A sigh fell from Su-bong’s lips as he noticed the cries of his friend finally started to quiet down, occasional choked sobs drifting through the thin walls. 

Su-bong knew that if you were going to continue being in a relationship with Nam-gyu, you had to at least be given a half truth eventually. 

Given a glimpse of the extent of Nam-gyu’s gruesome, tormenting, past. 

~~~

Nam-gyu felt so pathetic. His eyelids clenched so tight he was almost scared his eyes would pop in their sockets. He tried his best to will his tears away, the sobs subsiding into pitiful whimpers and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry… Fuck… I-” He was quick to push himself away from you, albeit a little harsher than he intended. Sitting up quickly and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I…” 

He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, his mind twisting and spinning so rapidly. Nam-gyu brought his hands up to his face, dragging his blunt nails along the skin of his raw cheeks.  He hoped that the brief bite of pain would bring him some sort of relief. 

God his fucking hands… If only they could stop shaking for just a second. 

Nam-gyu could feel your eyes boring into his back. He couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder at you. Your sweet, caring, beautiful face. It made his gut twist in a sickening way when a sudden gory image flashed in his head, an image of you in the games, dying in front of him. 

“I need to go.” He suddenly breathed out, rushing towards the door before you could even think to reach out for him. 

The world felt like it was spinning around him as he rushed to grab his jacket, slipping on one shoe at a time.

His mind was on one thing and one thing only. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going Nam-gyu?” Su-bong hissed, cutting through his friend’s tunnel vision.

It wasn’t an actual question, Su-bong knew exactly what Nam-gyu was planning to do. To search for that glorious hit that could make him forget everything that tormented his fragile mind.

“Dude… You can’t do this shit. Not today.” 

He snatched the keys from his trembling friend’s other hand, throwing them all the way into the kitchen, completely out of reach. 

“Su-bong…” Nam-gyu whispered his friend's name in warning, eyes glued to the wooden floor of their living room. 

“Your fucking girl is here bro… Do not do this shit.” An accusatory finger was jabbed lightly into Nam-gyu’s chest, “You can shut me out all you fucking want, but not her.” 

A tornado of emotions swirled recklessly inside of Nam-gyu. Right now all he wanted to do was forget, to wash all of his guilt away with one simple hit. That’s all he wanted. His heart was racing so fast in his chest, and his ears were ringing so loud he could barely concentrate anymore. 

“Sit down and smoke some weed or some shit, but we both swore that other shit off years ago, together. You can’t go sliding back on me now.” 

Nam-gyu’s hands tightened at his sides, body flushed.

Their eyes, their faces, everything was burned so brightly behind his eyelids. 

“I can’t do this anymore!” He finally shouted, making Su-bong flinch a little, “I’m so fucking tired! I just- I can’t… FUCK!” 

~~~

There was the sound of shattering glass in the hallway, so sharp and loud as you stared at Nam-gyu’s door. Still in shock from his sudden departure, seemingly running away from his deep seated emotions.

You threw back the covers hastily, ripping open his door and finding both boys fighting, yelling at each other in a way you had never seen them before. 

A picture frame was lying broken on the floor next to the front door, glass spread throughout the living room floor. Su-bong’s foot came dangerously close to one of the shards as Nam-gyu continued to jab his finger into his friend’s chest. 

“It has been so fucking easy for you! You don’t even act like it fucks with your head like it does mine!” Nam-gyu screamed at him, angry tears running down his cheeks. 

Su-bong couldn’t help but scoff, pushing against your boyfriend’s shoulder to force him to back up, “You don’t think it’s been hard on me?! Why do you think I go out so often?!” He pushed again, “I can’t stand being here by myself! I can’t get that shit out of my head! So I drown it out by going to clubs and bars!” Another push, “Don’t you think I wanna go out and get so fucked up out of my mind, do something I’ll really fucking regret?!” 

This time it was Nam-gyu who pushed him back, much harder than Su-bong had done to him, “Don’t fucking touch me again.” His voice was cold, bordering emotionless if it wasn’t for the slight tremble in his words. 

It broke your heart to see him like this. There was so much pain built up inside of him, all you wanted to do was grab his hand and usher him back into his bedroom. Hold him until he calmed down again.

But you knew that wouldn't be possible, not with how fired up he was now. You felt hopeless, unsure how you should act under situations like this.

You had been shaken out of your thoughts finally when Nam-gyu's hand grasped the doorknob firmly, "I'm going outside for a smoke. I gotta cool off." His gaze barely flickered past your shoes when he glanced towards the hallway. "I'll be back in a bit."

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Heya I’m here again! Hope you don’t mind.

I had a funny/cute Shadow x reader x Silver fanfic idea where shadow and Silver go through ridiculous lengths to try and one up each other trying to get more of the reader’s affection but reader tricks both of them to be at the same place and they all live happily the end.

“The Plan of All Plans”

Pairing(s): Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader x Silver the Hedgehog

Requested: Yes (by @shadowchan009 ).

Description: Being in love with two hedgehogs who always tried to one-up the other was a bit annoying. But you had two hands; so why couldn’t you all just date each other?

Notes: Ooh, my first poly request! And hello again! I don’t mind you requesting a lot, I like your requests! They’re tons of fun! I hope you enjoy this one too!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

To say you were miffed would be an understatement.

You were frustrated.

Sure, it was amusing at first seeing the two hedgies try to one-up the other, but at this point it was just ridiculous.

So to stop this, you had a plan.

You had two hands! You liked them both! And they should respect that!

So you were going to convince Shadow and Silver to both go on a date with you at the same time, without the other’s knowledge.

Getting to work, you first called Shadow, who, as he usually does, picked up your call on his communicator immediately.

“Hello, [Name],” Shadow says. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having you call?”

“Weeeell, I called to ask you out tomorrow night,” you tell him. You see his face tint green through the screen. Chaos, he’s adorable like that.

“Tomorrow night?” he asks.

“Yep! It’ll be at seven o’clock sharp, my place,” you tell him.

“I’ll be there,” he tells you. “See you then, [Name].”

“See you then, Shads,” you say before hanging up. “Now to call Silver!”

“Call me for what?” a voice asks from behind you, causing you to jump slightly, before you realize it’s just Silver.

“Hey Silver! I was just about to call you,” you tell him. “I wanted to ask you to come to my place tomorrow night.”

“Sure! What time?” Silver asks.

“Seven o’clock,” you reply.

“I’ll be there! Cya [Name]!” Silver says, waving goodbye before running off.

This was going according to plan.

The next day went by faster than usual, though you only supposed it did because Shadow and Silver were likely preparing themselves for the date.

You had just finished setting up the place with a movie you knew they both liked and an assortment of snacks, putting on a nice outfit as well, when someone knocked on the door.

You glanced over at your clock momentarily.

Seven o’clock, on the dot. That had to be Shadow.

You open the door and your prediction was right, Shadow was standing there in nice clothing, his quills up in a ponytail (and chaos did he look nice like that).

“Hey Shadow! Glad you could make it,” you tell him.

He lets off a nod, looking at your choice of clothing with a small green blush tinting his face.

You move aside to let him in, closing the door behind him.

“Go ahead and relax, I’ll be on the couch in a sec,” you tell him.

He does as told, sitting down on the couch.

As soon as he does, another knock is heard at the door, causing Shadow’s ear to flick.

“Did you order a pizza or something?” he asks.

“You’ll see!” you reply.

You open the door and there’s standing Silver, also dressed in quite a nice outfit.

“H-Hey [Name], hope I’m not too late,” he says, and Shadow’s ears both flick in an agitated way.

“No no, you’re fine! Come on in, Silver,” you tell him, letting him in.

Before he can get far, Shadow is standing in front of the both of you, a glare on his face.

“Shadow?! What are you doing here?!” Silver asks.

Oh boy, here it goes.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Shadow spats. “[Name], explain.”

“Okay, okay. I invited the both of you over at the same time on purpose,” you explain. “I’m tired of both of my crushes fighting over me like children.”

“Y…You have a crush on me?” Silver asks, his face tinted red.

“I don’t understand…Both of us?” Shadow asks.

“I have two hands, you two,” you say. “Ever heard of the word ‘polyamorous’?”

“No, that’s not one I’m familiar with,” Shadow says.

“Me either,” Silver mutters.

“It’s when three or more people, or in our case, mobians, date at the same time,” you explain.

“And it doesn’t count as cheating?” Silver asks.

“Nope!” you reply. “I wanted to make sure the both of you were here to see if you were okay with it.”

Shadow pauses for a moment before sighing.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to kiss this idiot anytime soon,” Shadow says.

“Yeah, same here,” Silver states.

“I wasn’t gonna suggest it. You two put that idea in your own heads,” you reply.

This causes both Silver’s and Shadow’s faces to flush their respective blush colors, causing you to laugh.

They couldn’t make you happier.

[mythicalninjas]

Not Just A Miner

Tf.One Orion Pax X Cog!Femme!Cybertronian!Reader

Author's note: I got inspired by a scene from an old brazilian movie called "Ó pai, Ó" (2007) in which the protagonist refutes racist remarks made by his friend. Click here to check it out (I couldn't find the english version, only in my native language). Also, I advise you to watch this movie if you have an opportunity.

Rate/Warnings: NSFW, prejudice, bullying, hate. | SFW, reader defends her friend.

Maybe it would be a good idea to be a prankster in the secret archives of Iacon instead of stealing useless material things. Not that young miner Orion Pax is one. He's just been searching for the truth ever since he became suspicious of the ancient and mysterious story of the 13 Primes. What happened to cause the great protectors of Cybertron to die in such mysterious ways? Why is Sentinel Prime's most beloved government hiding such information? Orion has searched countless files for cycles, and they all end with the same story.

Running from the two angry guards who are twice the size of the cogless miner, Orion's hope is to catch the fast approaching train at the nearest station, which is only 20 meters away from his position.

"Stop, miner!" Darkwing shouted from behind, pushing and dodging bots that were in his way.

KDQ-1, the other guard accompanying Darkwing, flies down from the air and lands directly in front of Orion, blocking his path. "Where do ya think ya're going, miner?" he asked threateningly.

Orion stopped abruptly and raised both arms in surrender. "Wow, hey!" He steps back, but feels Darkwing's sturdy body blocking his path. Their evil giggles make Orion feels shivers.

"So, Orion Pix." Darkwing said sarcastically, pushing Orion toward KDQ-1 "Where were we?".

KDQ-1 laughs. "What do you think, Darkwing? Should we pick him up and throw him from that top?" he pointed at a building next to them.

The brute guard disagrees. "Nah, it would be no fun, dull. Let's rip him apart right here." Both guards laugh.

Orion chuckles nervously. "You guys are creative, huh?"

KDQ-1 grabs the miners' left arm and pull him near. "So, miner. What do you prefer?".

Orion spots the train leaving. Now he's cooked.

Darkwing grabs the other arm. "Why do you want him to choose, KDQ-1? Miners don't have choices or opinion. They only obey." Both laughs again. "They are nothing but-"

"They're nothing but what?" You interjected suddenly, causing both guards to drop Orion in fright and backing off. You took it as oportunity to stand between your friend and the guards.

Orion moves quickly behind you as soon as notice it was you.

You could feel his hands gripping your right leg as if to make sure no one takes him away. How cog-bots can be so foolish to mistreat someone who can't even defend themselves? Even more so in public? Anger boils up your circuits.

"Come on, Darkwing. I want to hear it." you confront. "What were you going to say about him and other miners?"

The brute bot and his co-worker looked at each other. KDQ-1 was the first to speak. "We were just having a warm talk. No big deal."

"I don't think that bullying someone is no big deal." You reply calmly, but firmly.

"This is no of your business, Y/N." Darkwing shouted. "Leave us alone, now!"

"Out of question!" You answered. "You must have power over miners, but not over me. You cannot treat cogless-bots badly just because-"

The brute cut in. "Are you really want to teach me to how be a good chief?" he took a fews steps toward you, making Orion shudder. The young miner doesn't want a hand-to-hand fight to start. He doesn't want his friend to be hurt by the stubbornness of others. Thanks Primus that his brother-in-arms, D-16, is safe in the train going to mines right now.

"It seems you do need." You answered, not taking your eyes off him, ready to fight back.

KDQ-1, sensing that things aren't going well and knowing his co-worker actions, puts his hand on Darkwing's shoulder, trying to stop him, but the mean bot moves it away.

"Well, well. A "hero" protecting weaks bots?" he teased, stopping halfway.

"Don't forget that the weaks bots are those who keep our Energon reserves full. Don't forget you have Energon flowing through you because of them!"

"They are just miners. Damn miners! Nothing but dumb robots!"

"Yes, they are miners, but don't miners have eyes? Huh? Don't they have hands and heads and feelings? Don't they need the same Energon to live?" Your voice grows louder and louder. "Do they not suffer from the same diseases and need the same health care as we do?! When they feel exhausted after countless shifts, don't they need some rest just like us?! When you beat the shit out of them, don't they feel pain?! When they risk their lives down there in the mines, don't they die, too? You take advantage of them in everything because they are treated like slaves in our society, son of a bitch!"

An eerie silence fell over the open space. All that could be heard was the sound of the wind blowing off the huge buildings and the metallic sound of some construction machinery in the distance. Everyone who was passing by and paying attention to the small commotion now remained silent at Y/N's reaction, some jaw-dropped; even KDQ-1.

You were breathing heavily, as if your unimaginable reaction had been an impossible struggle to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. And you are willing to continue this discussion if necessary.

Darkwing glared angrily at Orion, who was still behind you. "Good for you, no-cog." the brute commented, ominously. "If I find you in the archives again, you'll suffer. And so will your little gray friend."

Orion's bright blue optics grew wide by his words. No... He cannot endanger someone he admires the most, someone he considers a brother. Darkwing is far more evil than he could have imagined. Suddenly, he feels you moving and blocking the threatening eye-contact between him and Darkwing.

Darkwing lifted his face up toward you. "And it will be a moment you won't be there, Y/N". He, then, was led by his co-worker through the crowd, away from there. All the other cog-bots returned to their tasks, murmuring about what they had just witnessed.

You sighed with relief that the situation was over without developing into something worse. Turning around, you realize that Orion also feels the same way. "Are you okay, Orion?" You asked softly as crouch down. "Did they do something else to you?".

Orion rubs his arm left arm. "Just a bit sore. Nothing to worry about it."

You lift an "eyebrow". His expression of pain was evident on his face as he try to move his arm with difficulty. "They've made a mess right there. Come along. I'll take you to a doctor to fix it."

"Oh, no need for it. I'm ok-" he grows by pain.

You smiled down at him. "Orion, don't resist. Let's go. And also... Don't put yourself in danger ever again... You know what Darkwing is capable of. Don't underestimate him."

"Yeah, I'm sorry... But, you know why I still insist on it. Something isn't right about Cybertron's past before Sentinel Prime's reign".

"I understand you Orion, but it doesn't mean you have to be chased by the authorities all the time. I don't want to imagine what would happen if they get you in a wrong moment." You sighed and watch the giant concrete jungle landscape. "I won't always be there to protect you."

Orion remained silent for a few minutes while the two of them stared at the cityscape before them. The miner is indeed quite stubborn, and that has consequences, especially for those who are not to blame. Rules and protocols are not even close to something he would follow. Orion doesn't like that, and it is what makes him different. Something that makes him look beyond work.

"I promise." he finally speaks. "I promise to not get in trouble."

You knew that Orion would never stop his extreme adventures.

And that defines him.

Damn, he can't wait to meet up with D again and tell him everything that happened and how brave you were. They knew that you, their best friend, are a hero. Someone they could trust their life with.

☆☆☆☆☆

Reblog to support and let more people read my work 🫶🥰

[lovebeatriceplz]

The Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack is basically just a bunch of 90's love songs. Idk just an education wish here but I think they're trynna tell us something

[pensivespacepirate]

it feels like the whole purpose of venom 3 is to kill off venom what the fuck

[hsslilly-blog]

huntclaire divorce au. everything is exactly the same but wait i was going to make a joke here but i’m actually very invested in this

[deus-ex-mona]

there is only one l in lxl

[bisaster-energy]

im not even done my current kuwameshi fic and im already getting ideas about new ones...

[louismygf]

just recently watched this is us with my college friends