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crushpunky · 3 months ago

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drew and actress!readers on hot ones

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based partially off of the new hot ones interview with the obx cast. just imagine drew and actress!reader are on opposite teams rather than drew being the question person lol. yall really seemed to like the last interview-fic i did so voila <3

“I’m already sweating.” Madison said, fanning herself as they filed into the studio. Lights and a white backdrop surrounded a table covered with wings, four chairs on each side. They’d already been briefed on how things were going to go, the eight of them divided into two teams and answering questions, their answers deciding whether or not they’d be subjected to one of the very hot wings laid out in front of them.

Drew came up behind y/n, pulling out her chair for her before heading to his own seat opposite her. She smiled at him, soothing her dress down as the rest of the cast sat down. Madelyn, Rudy, and Carlacia took seats on her team whereas Drew sat with Chase, Madison, and JD opposite them.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, resting her chin in her hands as she looked at the man across from her, his eyes crinkling as a smile crept across his face.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, my love.” Drew raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“Ok, are we ready?” One of the producers asked, to which the cast responded with excited (or perhaps anxious) cheers. The camera focused in on Chase, who reached and spun the bottle of hot sauce sitting in front of them, the ultimate decider of which team would go first. It spun for a moment before landing on Madelyn, her teammates erupting with hollers as Chases picked up one of the cards.

“Alright, Mr. Rudy,” Chase smiled cheekily. “Outer Banks has hooked viewers with its countless twists and turns, however, name one storyline you think should’ve never made it out of the writers room.”

Everyone let out some groans and giggles as Rudy began to lose himself in thought… and continued and continued to think.

“Is there a time limit on these?” JD quipped, causing Rudy to roll his eyes, stroking his chin in playful contemplation.

“This is off to a great start.” Y/n said, elbowing Rudy lightly.

“Ok, ok!” Rudy said. “I’d say… I wish they didn’t switch to the second treasure so fast. They should’ve stuck at the first treasure longer.”

“That sounds like an answer to me!” Carlacia clapped as the team opposite them picked up their wings with a groan. They each took a bite, chewing for a second before they all reached for the drinks in front of them.

“Shit.” Drew swore as he took a long sip of milk, his cheeks already beginning to flush a bright red.

“Don’t worry there’s more where that came from.” Y/n grinned as Drew shook his head. Y/n reached in front of her, grabbing another one of the question cards.

“Oh, JD,” Y/n read in a sing-song voice, “Outer Banks centers around a group of teenagers, but our cast ranges from 24 to 33 years old. Which of your costars is the least convincing teenager?”

The table erupted into “oohs” as JD surveyed his co-stars, a nervous grin on his face before his gaze landed on Chase.

“I think I have to say Mr Chase Stokes.” JD chuckled.

“Is it because of the beard?” Chase teased as y/n and her team picked up the wings in front of them. With a deep breath, y/n took a bite, her mouth immediately bursting with heat. With a groan, she reached for the ice water in front of her, hoping to soothe the fire in her throat as her eyes began to water.

“No more jokes, baby?” Drew asked as y/n fanned herself off with her hand. Y/n rolled her eyes, tossing the old question card at him. Drew picked the next card, his gaze locking onto the girl in front of him.

“Oh, perfect. Y/n,” Drew began, “part of Outer Banks’ charm is the chemistry between the cast. That being said, who here is the worst scene partner?”

“Oh no!” Y/n groaned, putting her face in her hands as the table broke out in gasps and laughter. She stole a glance at the second wing in front of her, royally coated in fiery hot sauce before thinking of an answer.

“Ok, ok! I’m going to answer, but,” y/n said with an anxious giggle, “you have to let me explain!”

Her co-stars leaned in, each of them with looks of anticipation covering their faces as y/n sat up straighter in her seat.

“My answer is…” y/n paused for dramatic affect, chewing at her bottom lip nervously, “Drew, but—”

Everyone erupted into shrieks and laughter, Drew’s jaw dropping at his girlfriend’s answer. Madelyn covered her mouth, locking eyes with Carlacia before they both turned to y/n.

“No, no, no! You have to let me explain!” Y/n reached across the table, grabbing Drew’s hand, his mouth still agape.

“This is going to be good.” Rudy chuckled.

“He’s not a bad scene partner, he is just so different from Rafe and always makes me laugh, so it takes us a million takes to get a scene done!” Y/n clarified, Drew’s shocked expression melting into a small smile.

“See, you’re just such a funny guy and I love you so much that it makes it hard to do scenes with you. It’s a compliment, really, baby.” Y/n finished with a quirk of her eyebrows, her costars swooning as the couple gazed at each other softly.

“Good save, good save.” JD teased as he and his team reached for another hot wing. The game continued for several more rounds, various questions, and, of course, lots of spicy wings, until they finally made it to the finale.

The table was moved out, their seats being arranged in a circle for a cutthroat game of musical chairs that would ultimately determine the winner of the game. Round after round, the numbers dwindled until one chair and two players remained: y/n and Drew.

“No mercy, y/n!” Madelyn shouted from the side as y/n and Drew rounded the chair slowly.

“C’mon Starkey boy!” Chase cheered. Y/n looked up for a moment, her eyes meeting with Drew’s as the music suddenly stopped. Before she knew it, Drew’s arms wrapped around her torso, lifting her off her feet with a shriek. He quickly sat down in the chair, pulling her down with him, and winning the game.

“Sorry baby,” Drew smirked, pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek. Y/n groaned playfully, tossing her head back to rest on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them laughed in the chair.

“You’re lucky I love you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, kissing Drew’s jaw.

“Do you? Do you really?” Drew teased, nuzzling his nose into the crook of y/n’s neck, causing her to squeal with laughter. In all her life, y/n would’ve never expected that she in all her competitive nature would be ok with losing a competition, but here she was, happy as ever.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #actress!reader

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jadevine · 1 year ago

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Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

#writing #preindustrial #horse riding #horse care #writing advice #medieval

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theglamorousferal · 6 months ago

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The Anti-Ecto Acts have been repealed.

War with an infinite army of the dead and concepts of existence has been avoided.

Damian was glad. On opposite sides of the battlefield is not where he would have wished to reunite with his twin.

She was stubborn enough to become a ghost.

To have to face her, still so small, because she never had the chance to grow would have wrecked him. To have to explain to the family why he hesitated with that once ghost would have wrecked the rest of them too.

Damian was glad the war was averted. Maybe he could ask the ambassadors for the Infinite Realms to pass along a message to his sister’s spirit? Maybe he could help her find peace?

The five ambassadors were coming to the Watch Tower today, and Damian had convinced his father to let him come. He had agreed mostly because the five appeared to be around Damian’s age. This admittance had made Bruce’s mouth form a thin line of displeasure at the thought of young adults being the party chosen to speak on behalf of an entire dimension. Damian knew the displeasure is at the thought of the responsibility thrust upon the shoulders of ones so young, not at having to face younger people on even footing.

They had zeta’d in earlier that day and Robin was making use of one of the training rooms when Batman came to get him for the meeting. He will admit to himself that he was nervous about this meeting. He wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to ask to send a message to his sister, but he did want to at least try.

The door to the larger meeting room swished open in front of him and he took a seat to Batman’s right. He sat there trying to collect his thoughts when he felt his hair stand on end more than usual. The temperature dropped and a bright green tear in reality formed at the other end of the room.

White fingered gloves appeared at the center of the tear and seemed to pull it wider, large enough for them to fit through with their armor. They floated about two feet off the ground and stood seven feet higher than that. They cast an eerie white glow and their eyes glowed the same bright green as the edges of the tear. Another being floated from the tear, this one just as tall with bright yellow eyes and a teal glow. Another wore a helmet to prevent anyone from seeing their eyes, but they had a red glow to them as they glided in on a hoverboard, they were still nearly six foot tall. The next was shorter, with a pair of goggles that glowed an unnatural blue and had glowing circuitry with hieroglyphics running along that arms. The last entity stepped out.

Damian knew that face. He had mourned it the last ten years.

Purple eyes, a genetic anomaly, but ones he would never forget. The same dark hair as him, thoughts flowed more like Mother’s. She had gained Father’s complexion, always fit to burn if out for too long.

There was just one thing. That face never reached that age. That face never grew to be a teenager, yet alone an adult. Why was this specter wearing his sister’s face?

#dpxdc #dp x dc #Samantha al ghul #demon twins #with a twist #Sam is Damian’s twin

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darknight3904 · 1 year ago

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All Yours, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴅ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ. ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ.

ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʜɪᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, ɴᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ.

ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

Coriolanus has never been the easiest person to understand. His mind was always racing and it kept you on your toes. Even now as he fretted over his appearance in the mirror you could tell his mind was thinking of a million things beyond whether or not his tie fit him correctly.

"For what it's worth, I think you look perfect." You say, sipping at your drink, you had been ready for nearly twenty minutes while Coriolanus was still figuring out what tie matched his pants best.

"I'm sure you do but this isn't just any party, I'm campaigning tonight and everything must be perfect." He says adjusting his hair even though it already sat perfectly styled atop his head.

It was Coriolanus' 23rd birthday and instead of celebrating like you usually did, you were both spending it at a party full of people who might help him reach the presidency by the beginning of next year. You approach him and wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"It will be." You assure, pressing a kiss to his exposed neck where his makeup artist did a wonderful job at covering the marks you had left behind last night.

"If all goes well tonight, you might just become the first lady of Panem one day." He smiles at you through the mirror

"Does that mean we're getting married?" You laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the idea of being with him forever

"Maybe..." Coriolanus says suddenly avoiding your eyes as his face reddens under your gaze.

You giggle at your boyfriend's flustered face, despite how grown up he had become in the past few years he was still the same boy you met at the academy all those years ago who just wanted his own bowl of fruit to gobble down.

"You definitely wanna marry me, Coryo!" You say almost as if you had discovered a secret of his.

"Well if you're not interested I can always find another." He jests, finally tying his tie.

"Oh please, I'm the only one who could ever tolerate you." You smile as he spins around to face you and rests his hands on your hips

"That you are, darling, that you are." He smiles and presses a chaste kiss to your lips

Coriolanus is sure you are his favorite person in the entire world. From the way you'd laugh at his jokes to the way your nose whistled when you slept, he loved it all. Even now as the two of you had long abandoned your teenage years and stepped into adulthood, he knew he didn't want to lose you. His interactions with Lucy Gray and his time in District 12 had only solidified how he wanted you to stay close to him. He watches as you cross the room to slip into a pair of pretty high heels, he loved the way your dress sat on your body, it was perfectly fitted and he wondered what designer had been able to craft it so perfectly.

He looked back at the mirror and pretended to fiddle with his outfit again even though he knew he looked perfect. Instead, his eyes cast to the small table next to the mirror where a collection of photos sat you and him over the past five years. His favorite though was the one that was taken at your 17th birthday party. He remembered how warm it had been, and at one point someone had filled a bucket of water and tossed at you. He had expected you to cry out and push everyone out of your home but instead, he was met with your laughter and thus a water fight had begun. The picture of the two of you had been taken not even twenty minutes later, both of you were drenched but happy and you had linked your arms together right before the picture was taken. Sometimes he wished to go back to those moments, to relieve the last bits of his boyhood even though it meant going back to that decrepit building he once lived in and the taste of cabbage a constant on his tongue.

"Thinking about the past?" You ask from across the room.

"Thinking about how ugly we look here." He says picking up the photo

"Nonsense, we're adorable in that. If I remember correctly that was taken a few weeks before you tripped me in my room trying to slow dance and then you gave me the kiss of a lifetime." You smile

"I didn't trip you, you tripped me with your bad dancing." He laughed, returning the photo to its proper place among the others.

"Whatever you say, Coryo." You smiled, he could tell you didn't believe one word that came from his mouth about the tripping incident.

These parties were always a bit tedious for you. You enjoyed seeing Coriolanus happy among Capitol elites and you loved the lavish dresses you got to wear but sometimes it became overwhelming. The sheer amount of reporters that were always at these things is what drove you crazy. Coriolanus ate the attention up and answered all their questions about how he'd change Panem for the better but you were usually left answering questions about what your dress was made of or what your relationship was with Coriolanus. He often assured you that once he won the presidency he'd have more control over what was asked and that you'd never have to answer another dress question again. You hoped he won as soon as possible, it was tiring pretending this line of questioning was interesting.

"Is that real gold on your sleeves?"

"Is that ring on your finger an engagement ring?"

"Who did your hair for the evening?"

"Are you going to have the future president's children?"

"Did you seduce Coriolanus Snow for power in the Capitol?"

"How many toes do you have?"

God you wished they'd all shut up, or at least get better questions. Even just something as small as your involvement with your father's company would've been better than this. You ignored whatever trash was coming from their mouths and held on to Coriolanus' arm like he was going to disappear and end up back in District 12 again.

You remembered that day very well, after Coriolanus' tribute had won he had just disappeared despite promising to walk you home after the games had ended. When he didn't show up for graduation either, you found yourself outside Tigris and Grandma'am's new residence looking for answers. Tigris had told you what happened with him and that girl, Lucy Gray, how he cheated with rat poison and a handkerchief of his father's. At first, you had been distraught that he was sent off to District 12, stuck there for twenty years as some peacekeeping grunt, you'd be an ugly middle-aged woman by the time he got back! You had been in the pits of despair about your relationship with him but all it took was one terrifying meeting with Dr. Gaul to change your attitude. Once she revealed that Coriolanus would be back in the Capitol soon, and she was simply testing his dedication to the games, you relaxed. While Dr. Gaul might not have all her marbles you knew she wasn't lying, and sure enough, your Coriolanus returned to you in a matter of weeks.

However, he returned to you differently though. Sure, his head was shaved like all Peacekeepers and the curls you loved to play with were gone, but his attitude had also changed. Perhaps it was that Songbird he never wanted to speak of even now. You could never quite place what happened between Coriolanus and her, all that mattered to you was that he had assured you it wasn't romantic. Just shared ambitions to both win something. In her case her life and in his the Plinth Prize, not that that went well for her since she had disappeared shortly after she went home. You weren't quite sure what to make of Lucy Gray, the mysterious Songbird who had enchanted all of Panem just five years ago. You had only spoken to her once and it was just to compliment her singing during her interview. She hadn't exactly impressed you with her in that moment but she must have impressed Coriolanus at some point if he was willing to break rules for her.

Or perhaps his change was due to whatever training Peacekeepers went through and the death of Sejanus that had rocked the entire Capitol when he was revealed as a traitor, you knew Coriolanus had been close to him. Of course, despite all his changes and attitude adjustments, he never applied them to you. So, here you stayed by his side, happy that he still loved you the same. Soft touches and sweet words remained constant as the two of you aged and explored the advantages of adulthood. One of your favorite things about being 23 was moving out of your family's home and into the penthouse Coriolanus had chosen for the two of you. Waking up next to Coriolanus each day and seeing how he looked before his eyes fluttered open had to be your favorite part of the days you spent together. Brushing his hair from his eyes and counting the freckles that just barely brushed his pale skin was something you did daily until his pretty blue eyes met yours again. Once he did wake though, it was hard to get him to stay in bed with you. His peaceful state was always replaced with a man who was always working towards something, ambition was always fueling him.

You didn't mind his rough exterior that emerged each morning though, Coriolanus was cold and hard on everyone but you. Perhaps it was your shared childhood memories and teenage romance that prevented him from treating you coldly like he did poor Tigris but you weren't sure. One thing you did know was that the boy you grew up with was gone and a man stood in his place, brooding and cold to everyone but you.

"I'm going to get us a drink and then if you want we can dance." He whispered in your ear

"Can you get me that fizzy lemon drink they usually serve?" You ask

"Of course, I'll bring you some of those hors d'oeuvres you like with the cheese as well."

And then, he was gone from your side moving expertly through the crowd. That dazzling blonde hair accompanied by the broadest shoulders you've ever seen on a man disappeared among the throngs of people craning their necks to get a better look at the future president and his pretty face.

"A true marvel isn't he?" a voice to your right said

You turned to be met by none other than Lucky Flickerman, a drink in one hand and a young child's hand grasped in the other.

"I'm not interested in doing an interview, Lucky. If you want information on Coryo you can ask him yourself." You say, ready to walk away from the Capitol's favorite news anchor turned Hunger Games host.

"Coryo...what an interesting nickname, a bit childish for a man who might watch over us all soon. No matter, I would however absolutely love to report on you one day and maybe even that big business you're the heiress of, but I'm actually talking to you for this little one tonight." Lucky smiles motioning to the boy who you guessed was his son. "He was admiring that stunning dress of yours and I thought he might want to see it up close and personal."

For once you didn't mind being asked about your clothes as you crouched down to the little boy's height, he couldn't be more than 5 or 6.

"You have a good eye, would you like to feel the fabric? The designer I met with made it wonderfully soft." You smile, thinking of how Tigris had gushed over the blood-red fabric that would perfectly match Coriolanus' suit with you just weeks ago.

The boy reaches his hand out and brushes it along expensive fabric and a smile grows on his face.

"What's your name?" You ask

"Caesar." He says "I just turned 6 last week."

"Well, Caesar, six is a marvelous age to be, you can do all sorts of things at six. In fact, when I turned six I learned to ride a bicycle for the first time, I did however scrape my knees half a million times. I even still have a few scars on my knees would you like to see them?." You smile at him and he nods.

"Lucky Flickerman, I thought I told your producers that you weren't allowed to bother her with your idiotic questions the way the other reporters do. You clearly don't value your job, if you did you would have listened to my words." Coriolanus' voice suddenly fills your ears as you quickly right yourself, remembering how he once told you you'd have to start holding yourself with more decorum at these events. 'No more acting like a stupid teenager' had been his exact words one night when you were eating dinner together in your shared room.

"It's fine, his son wanted to say hello." You smile down at Caesar, take your lemon drink, and pop some of the food Coriolanus brought with him into your mouth. You sincerely hoped that you weren't about to witness Lucky being fired by the newest mastermind behind The Hunger Games and future the president.

From the corner of your eye, you see Coriolanus cast an intimidating look down at the boy and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs and force him to apologize to the poor child who was now cowering behind his father's stylish pant leg.

"I'll see you later, Lucky. We are going to go dancing now." Coriolanus says setting your barely sipped drink and food on a tray of a passing server before whisking you away.

"You're bad with children, Coryo." You say as he leads you towards the dance floor.

"And you're bad at reading people, darling." He says, ignoring the way you pouted at your loss of lemon drink and cheese-sprinkled food.

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused

"Lucky just wanted to get you to answer questions about me," Coriolanus says as he leads you in a dance, the both of you had gotten exceptionally better since your failure at 17 in your childhood bedroom.

"Oh." You say, a bit sad that he wasn't genuinely interested in you, just another dumb reporter who wanted news on Coriolanus' next move. It was amazing how Coriolanus always knew what others were thinking and how to approach a situation best.

"It's alright, just ignore him next time," Coriolanus says, gently squeezing your waist as a form of reassurance.

You nod and rest your head on his shoulder as you spin around the dance floor, suddenly wishing you were tangled up in bed with him rather than dancing in heels that were pinching your toes.

"Can I confess something to you?" Coriolanus whispers, his lips tickling your ear.

"Of course, always " You reply honestly

"I hate seeing you interacting with them." He says in a low voice.

"Them?" You ask

"These people. Seeing them ask you questions about your dress or hair, makes me want to toss them into the arena and watch one of Gaul's mutts rip them apart. I hate the way they look at you like you're a piece of meat attached to my side." He says, possessiveness lacing his tone.

"Oh...well I'm sure they don't all think that way." You try to reason, hoping that he wasn't right about this read on others.

"I doubt it. Look at that one by the fountain in the blue jacket." He says nodding to his right.

You glance over to the fountain and see an old man with a fluffy white beard and white hair to match. He seemed to be carefully watching you and Coriolanus spinning on the dancefloor but you weren't quite sure.

"I'm positive he's standing there imagining what it'd look like if this pretty dress was on the floor and you were on top of him," Coriolanus whispers, knowing it'll have you blushing in his arms.

"Coryo..." You say, trying to keep your composure as he presses his body to yours while you wonder if he's truly right and the old man across the pretty courtyard is truly ogling you.

"Too bad I'm the only one who will ever know what that looks like." He says a certain arrogance in his voice you can't quite place.

"Stop it." You scold, trying to hide the fact that your face is as red as your dress.

"Why? I can't wait to get back to our bedroom tonight and bring what's in my head to life." Coriolanus laughs, his voice was husky in your ears and making you weak in the knees.

"You're so embarrassing, Coryo." You say into his chest, avoiding that sharp gaze he had. How could someone act so well-composed but also have the dirty mind of a perverted teenage boy?

Coriolanus stops leading your dance and hooks a finger under your chin so you're looking up at him again. Sharp blue eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul looked at you, full of passion and want.

"My heart burns for you, darling, as it always has. You're mine, my perfect girl, all mine." He promises before swooping in to deliver what might qualify as the most monumental kiss in all of history.

A certain warmness spreads across your body as he kisses you in public for the first time. It's moments like this with your Coriolanus make your heart swell, these moments remind you that the little boy with the golden curls you met when you were just twelve lives on, just in a different way. You know the teenager you once ate cabbage soup and bread with sweet jam watches over you as you kiss his 23-year-old self, you know he's smiling at where the two of you are now. You're sure that the same boy who once spun you around your childhood bedroom to your favorite slow song is still here with you now, even if he rarely shows his face. Coriolanus Snow is always watching over you, every version of him envelopes you tonight as he shows the world who you are to him.

Your head spins and your lungs burn as you hear a few whoops and cheers from onlookers while others whisper about how Coriolanus' hands are wandering all over your body. You're sure the way he's kissing you is going to end up on some Capitol news reel tomorrow morning but you can't find the heart to care. Somewhere in his chest, you feel Coriolanus let out a deep groan when you run your hands through his hair ruining the way it was perfectly styled for the evening. You gasp when his teeth nip at your bottom lip and pull away, a gasp for air leaving your now surely swollen lips.

"All yours, Coryo." You assure him and lean in for another kiss.

You smile as he kisses back and couldn't care less about what the world around you thinks, you had your Coryo, the boy who you grew up with and ate cabbage together in his decrepit home, the same boy who danced with you despite his own lack of skill. You were with your Coriolanus, the man who was going to carry Panem into a new age of glory.

Part Three

Series Masterlist

Read the Teaser here

So I uh sorta ended up abandoning fluffy Coryo thoughts from part one and went with the reader's pov of him at 23, I hope that's okay with all of you. He still loves you though don't worry, it's just in his own Coryo way. His own magically manipulative Coryo way. I was initially going to make this part during the 10th Hunger Games but then I thought, wouldn't it be interesting to see how he interacts with reader post Lucy Gray considering how much she changes his ideals. To make things clear, every moment with Lucy Gray and Coryo has occurred and the reader is unaware of pretty much all of it here, obviously since she's so goo goo gah gah over him.

If you'd like more of my writings about Coryo and you, my fic Blank Space might be the read for you, it also has a part two that is available now You can read them both here. (Yes it's based on the Taylor Swift song)

Taglist:

@bl0ndelilac

@lucygreene

@lwqfhp

@belle643

@fantasylovestoryme

@alana4610

@threeinchminimum

@dangelnleif

@hannaeditzs

@1950schick

@ennycutie

@janelongxox

@ajs-222

@or-was-it-just-a-dream

@notlilyyyy

@nicksolemnlyswears

@diannana

@ashrsworld

@lokidala

@clintsupremacy

@brilliantreid

@badassbitch-21

@steppingonshatteredglass

@405rry @folklorde24

@eir964

@charlesswife

@fangirling-galore

#the hunger games #fanfic #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #rachel zegler #coriolanus snow fluff #sejanus plinth #thg #tbosas #coriolanus snow x fem!reader

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cliosunshine · 2 months ago

Text

Thinking about wearing promise rings with Jason...

Warning: NSFW at the end

you got the idea of buying matching promise rings after scrolling too far on Pinterest on a lazy day and seeing a post with a couple wearing puzzle pieces promise rings

you fell in love with the idea and knowing your first year anniversary with Jason was coming up, you wanted to surprise him

now, getting his ring size wasn't the easiest task as he was always on alert, even when asleep. you had to trick him with a silly string game to finally get it

hiding your excitement was even worse

he could read right through you, but chose not to comment on the way you looked at his hands with a goofy smile on your face and sighed to yourself before returning to your current task

the date eventually came and you were an anxious wreck

you started to second guess every decision you had made

was the ring too much? maybe he would think that the heart shape was too childish. maybe he didn't like wearing rings-

you hadn't even gotten that physical yet, deciding to take things slow as relationships in general were something fairly new for the both of you

what if you were overstepping and he saw the ring as an oppressive symbol of ownership and forced commitment instead of a declaration of love and loyalty?

but his reaction to it couldn't have surprised you more

you had spent a wonderful day with Jason, going to a museum exhibition you had been keeping your eyes on for weeks and then having a picnic in Gotham Park, basking all the sunlight you could get even on a winter day. the two of you drank hot chocolate and held hands like two teenagers in love.

you lived for these days, where you could admire Jason being so carefree and appreciate the small things in life.

you may or may not have taken a dozen candid photos of him.

jason had been all smiles throughout the whole day, so after eating the dinner you had cooked together in your apartment, silence settling for the first time that day between the two of you, you got nervous real quick.

"you alright, sweetheart?"

his gaze was on you the whole time. you were cuddled up next to one another on the couch, a thick sherpa blanket over your bodies. you didn't look away from the tv, the show playing wasn't that good but you couldn't dare to look at him, suddenly shy.

"mh mh, everything's ok honeybun"

he chuckled at the pet name but didn't relent, tilting your chin with two of his fingers so that you would meet his gaze.

physical touch was something fairly new between the two of you. although you had been dating for a year now, you respected Jason's boundaries that he had set up right at the beginning, and both of you were taking small steps to slowly overcome them. so far, you had managed to make him feel at ease with holding hands, hugging him, and cuddling. he was still coming to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him to touch you and wanted him in your space.

this week you got close to kissing, but you were quick to reassure him when he freaked out, apologising for not being ready.

you were there for him, and you wanted to show him.

so him initiating physical touch? oh yeah, that was a big step, alright.

you released a shaky breath, looking away, "I really want to give you something, love"

Jason loosened the grip he had on your chin and rested his hand on his lap, a faint blush covering the top of his ears and cheeks. he looked so pretty with the warm lamp light casting golden hues on his flustered face.

"Oh, yeah?" you nodded, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his slightly bruised knuckles.

you got up, going to your room to retrieve the small velvet box you had meticulously picked in the jewellery shop in Gotham Heights.

you returned and sat on the couch, pulling both of your knees to your chest, holding the box in between your legs and your torso for dear life.

"I've been thinking about us, Jay, and I love how much progress we've made in our relationship in just one year," your eyes were going teary as you smiled at him. Jason could only look at you as you paused, gears clearly turning in his head.

"I want to be there for you. I want to know more of you as our relationship progresses. Before even starting dating, we'd been friends for a good couple of years and I've been grateful that you allowed me to come into your life and let me have a look at your soul, slowly trusting me to get closer and closer to you. This- this gift I have for you- I don't want you to see it for something that it wasn't meant to be in the first place. This gift to you is a promise that I'm making you. It's a promise that I'll be by your side because I want to, and it is in no way, shape, or form a way to hold you down or force you to some form of bond you're not ready for yet. I love you, Jason, and I hope you will love this gift, too"

With tears running down your cheeks, you pried the small bow open and presented the two silver rings in the inside.

Jason was holding onto your left hand the entire time, looking at you with wide eyes and suddenly feeling like his heart was caught up in his throat.

he lowered his haze onto the rings and subconsciously squeezed your hand tighter.

there were two rings in the box. one of them was daintier than the other and had a plain heart in the middle of it, while the other one was thicker in width and had the same heart, this time cut out so it would accodomate the first ring.

jason held back tears as he looked at you.

"these are for us?"

you nodded with a laugh, wiping the remaining tears on your face. you were amused at the starstruck look on his face. all he could do was look between you and the rings and squeeze your hands.

"do you like them? I was worried the heart shape would have been too childish...if they are it's ok I can go change them for another pair of rings. or if you don't like wearing rings at all it's ok, I'm sorry I should have really asked you about it, I know it's a lot-"

the feeling of Jason's chapped lips on yours shut you up. with wide eyes, you tried to understand what was going on before shutting them tightly and melting against his lips, pulling him closer. it only lasted a couple of seconds, but as you pulled away, you felt as if all of your breath had been sucked out of your lungs. he had soft lips, and the thought of what just happened made your head spin.

jason, too, seemed to be in a haze if his blushing face was anything to go by. he rested his forehead against yours, pulling in closer, "I love them."

you were so flustered you couldn't speak. instead, with a very wide smile and a lovestruck expression on your face, you picked up his ring, prompting him to do the same with yours.

you started to read the engraving inside of it - better yet, you were reciting it while looking at him.

"You are my heart, my life,-"

jason was quick to catch on, completing the quote.

"-my one and only thought."

now both of you were sporting goofy grins as you leaned in and exchanged a chaste kiss.

Jason looked at the engraving, smiling to himself, "Conan Doyle, uh?"

you chuckled as you curled up at his side, resting your head on his shoulder, "mh mh. It was the first book you had recommended me after I declared my undying hatred for historical adventures,"

he kissed the top of your head, pulling you even closer than imaginable, "you wanna do the honours?"

you gingerly held your (his) ring up and took his left hand, sliding it on his ring finger and then kissing it.

he did the same, this time holding eye contact with you as he kissed the ring and you swore you heard fireworks explode in your head at how in love you were with him that moment.

from that day on, neither of you took your rings off

the only time it wasn't on Jason's finger was when he went on patrol, opting to wear it by hanging it on the silver chain he always had around his neck

it also had become an habit of his to kiss you and then kiss the ring on his hand before heading out on patrol, symbolising a promise of coming back to you by the end of the night

he also started fidgeting with it during stakeouts and when he felt anxious, realising that it brought him an immense sense of calm by having a reminder of you and your love on him

but when he wasn't on patrol he would always, and i mean always wear it on his finger

he was honestly more excited than you were to show it off to everybody

Dick was low-key jealous to not have had something like that with Kory

what jason loved the most tho was when you'd put your heart through his

the first time that you did it was when the two of you were splayed out on the couch, enjoying a slow Sunday morning in blissed silence

he was reading a book and slowly felt you tugging his left hand towards you

he let you at first, without looking at what you were doing, but then when he heard you giggle to yourself, he promptly turned his head

and he thanked every God in existence for that because as he did, he caught you piecing the two hearts together, giggling as you two were now ring finger to ring finger

He felt so ashamed after you left, his ears and throat flushed pink as he jerked off to the image of the rings fitting perfectly together.

Jason chanted your name in a breathy whisper as he stroked his cock with his left hand, moaning shamelessly as the ring glinted under the low lights of his apartment and imagining it was your hand and your ring touching him while whispeing sweet nothings in his ears. The mental image was enough to send him over the edge and make him cum all over his hand, coating the ring in the process.

Jason whined as he threw his head back, his whole body trembling.

he thought about what it would look like when you two will be ready to have sex for the first time.

he thought about intertwining your hands together as he slid into you for the very first time and what faces you'd make, what pretty sounds he could manage to pull out of you.

he thought about seeing your ringed hand making its way across his body, and then his mind went foggy as he pictured his own hand wrapping around your throat, his ring resting against your skin creating such a beautiful contrast between the lovely heart shape and the downright nasty things he wanted to do to you.

safe to day, he wanted to see the rings slotting together more often

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanons #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd smut

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nonushu · 4 months ago

Text

stuck with you - csc

genre: fluff, married life :P | wc: 710 | husband!seungcheol x reader about: choi seungcheol, your husband, who would do anything to see you happy. a/n: happy late (don't come for me😭) birthday to scoops<3 (this was rotting in my drafts... i love you cheol, forgive me)

with a slight nip in the air, the breaths between the two of you were visible. it's late, and you're not sure why your husband dragged you out in your backyard—which was decorated in what seems to resemble a festival. it's a surprise he told you.

"okay, so... i know it's not fireworks," seungcheol began, revealing two sparklers, "but it's close enough, right?"

you blink before smiling. "sparklers?"

he nods. "i know you really wanted to see them this year," he says, putting one in your hand, "so, i'm sorry we couldn't make it. but if you think about it, sparklers are just tiny fireworks! plus, it's way more personal, too."

"cheol," you laugh, feeling your disappointment wash away as he lit one with a lighter. "you didn't have to..."

"hush, baby," he interrupts, motioning his lighter to the sparkler in your hand. "come here."

the sparks crackles between you, casting a glow over both of your faces. seungcheol waves his sparkler like a child at a birthday party, his toothy smile making your heart swell.

you shook your head at how hard he was trying to cheer you up, but the truth is, you couldn't envision something more perfect than this. "okay, okay," you say, holding your sparkler out toward him. "i admit, this is not what i expected but..."

his gaze softens, playfulness wearing off. "i just didn't want you to miss out on the fun."

you bit your lip, feeling a little flutter in your chest. “you really didn’t have to go through all this—i mean, when did we even have all these decorations in the house?”

he shrugs, leaning a bit closer with a grin. “don't worry about it,” he chirps, pecking your forehead.

his hair, slightly tousled from the breeze, curled at the edges of his forehead, framing his dark eyes that reflected the sparks as they flicker between you. seungcheol had that effect—one of many that you couldn't help but ogle over. not to mention his thoughtfulness, always surprising you even more on how much he really cares for you.

"you’re staring," he teases, catching your eyes as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

you feel cheeks heat up, and quickly avert your eyes, pretending to focus on the sparkler in your hand. "i... i wasn’t staring. i was... just thinking."

"yeah? about?" he uttered, his tone light, but you could feel the shift in the air. he steps closer, closing the small space.

a giggle slips from your lips, your eyes meeting his, seeing the way the warm light of the sparklers dances across his face. "okay, maybe i was staring a little."

he chuckles lowly, a soothing sound that made you feel like a teenager with a crush. "you can stare all you want," he says quietly, smugness replaced with something gentler, almost tender. "i don’t mind."

seungcheol's hand brushes yours lightly as he adjusts his grip on the sparkler, the brief touch sending a tingle up your arm. he didn’t pull away, and neither did you. his fingers stayed close, not quite intertwined with yours.

"i was just thinking... thinking about how i'm so grateful for you," you confess, "thank you for this, cheol, really. i couldn't have it any other way."

his eyes crinkle. "you don't have to thank me," he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "i'd do this for you everyday if i could."

seungcheol lifts his free hand to gently brush his fingers on your face. his touch lingers, his thumb graze your cheek. "you deserve to be happy," he murmurs, "and if i can be a part of that, then that's enough for me."

your breath hitches at his words, and for a second, you couldn't find your voice. you lean in, resting your forehead against his, the sparklers crackling in the background.

"i am happy," you whisper back, your voice full of joy. "as long as you light my sparkler, i always will be."

the last sparks of the sparklers die down, leaving behind only the soft glow of the backyard decorations. seungcheol leans forward and presses his lips to yours, a gentle kiss.

when he pulls back, his eyes twinkle. "i promise i'll always light them for you."

#nonushu.drabble #k-labels #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol imagines #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol #seventeen

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ethereangel222 · 4 months ago

Text

our safe haven

nicholas alexander chavez & fem!reader

premise After years of marriage and raising their daughter, Nicholas and his wife, Y/N, find their love and passion deepening as they consider growing their family.

cw fluff and eventual smut, oral (f receiving), penetration p in v, unprotected sex wc 4k a/n soft vanilla!nicholas fic is needed. this is my fav fic in my drafts so far! i hope you guys enjoy this <3

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

Nicholas quietly entered the bedroom, the soft creak of the door muffled by the plush carpet underfoot. The subtle scent of Amelia's lavender bath soap lingered on him, a reminder of the bedtime ritual he had just finished. He padded over to his side of the bed, his broad shoulders still relaxed from reading Amelia her favorite story, and pulled back the covers.

You were already nestled beneath the duvet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light on your face. The room was cozy, the air filled with the faint scent of the candles you had lit earlier—something calming, like vanilla and sandalwood. Nicholas slid into bed beside you, his body radiating warmth as the mattress dipped slightly under his weight.

He turned to face you, his hand immediately finding your hip under the sheets, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your sleep shirt.

"She went down easy tonight," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. "Asked for an extra story, though. Had to make a deal with her."

You chuckled softly, leaning into his warmth. The house was quiet now, the comforting weight of the day behind you, but as he lay there beside you, it brought back memories of when your life together had just begun—back when you were both teenagers, when everything had been new and full of promise.

You first met Nicholas when you were sixteen. He was the guy every girl had a crush on at your high school. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a natural charm that made it hard to miss him. He was the star of the football team, the kind of guy who could breeze through practice and still show up to class with that easy smile that made everyone feel like they had his attention. But he wasn’t just the jock everyone expected him to be—he surprised everyone, including you, when he joined the speech and debate team.

You’d been on the team for a while, focused on honing your skills and winning competitions. You were serious about it, and Nicholas, at first, seemed like he was just there to round out his resume. But as the practices went on, you realized there was more to him. He was good—really good. And there was a determination in him, a drive to be better, that matched yours. You couldn’t help but respect that.

It wasn’t long before the two of you started spending more time together. At first, it was just for debate practice, going over arguments and strategies late into the afternoon, but soon, those sessions turned into something more. After one particularly grueling practice, he had offered to walk you home. The conversation flowed easily between you, and by the time you reached your doorstep, you realized you were laughing more with him than you had with anyone else in a long time.

From there, it became a regular thing—sneaking out late at night to meet up at the park, lying under the stars and talking about anything and everything. Nicholas wasn’t just the confident, easygoing football player everyone thought he was. He had dreams, ambitions, fears he didn’t show to the rest of the world. You found yourself drawn to him, not just for his looks or his charm, but for the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he was with you.

That summer, everything between you intensified. The chemistry was undeniable. What started as late-night talks turned into stolen kisses, and before long, the two of you were inseparable. You’d sneak into football games just to watch him play, and he’d sit through your debate tournaments, always cheering you on from the sidelines. It was passionate, reckless, and all-consuming.

But it wasn’t just about being young and in love. Even then, you knew there was something deeper between you. Nicholas wasn’t like other guys you’d dated before—he was serious about you, about your future together, and that seriousness only grew when you both turned twenty and found out you were pregnant with Amelia.

The day you told him, you’d been terrified. You hadn’t planned for it, hadn’t expected it. But Nicholas had surprised you, just like he always did. He had sat quietly for a moment, processing, before pulling you into his arms and telling you that everything would be okay. “We’ll figure it out,” he had said, and the way he looked at you, with so much certainty, made you believe it too.

He was by your side through it all—the doctor’s appointments, the late-night cravings, the fear of becoming parents when you were barely more than kids yourselves. When Amelia was born, everything shifted. You got married soon after, a small ceremony with just your families, a simple exchange of vows that cemented what you already knew—you were in this together for the long haul.

And now, as Nicholas lay beside you, his hand moving slowly along your waist, his foot gently slid between your legs, grazing your skin with a slow, teasing motion. The soft, subtle contact sent a shiver of warmth through you, each caress deliberate yet comforting. The quiet intimacy of the moment made your breath hitch, the simplicity of his touch pulling you deeper into the connection you both shared.

It was then, with his foot still brushing against your skin, that he whispered, “You know... I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time we gave her a sibling.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your heart skipping a beat. The thought of another child had been floating around in your mind for a while, but hearing Nicholas say it out loud made it feel more real, more possible. You turned to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You think so?”

Nicholas grinned, his eyes darkening with intent. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I think it’s time.”

You smiled. The thought of expanding your family, of watching Amelia become a big sister, felt right. But then, a small worry crept in. “What if she wakes up?”

Nicholas chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “She’s out like a light,” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “And besides, we’ll be quiet. I promise.”

His fingers teased your skin, and your breath hitched as the familiar heat between you began to rise. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. He shifted, positioning himself over you, his body warm and strong, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened, filled with both tenderness and desire.

Nicholas’ hands moved with a practiced ease, exploring your body in ways that made your breath catch. He knew you better than anyone else—knew exactly how to touch you, how to bring you to the edge of wanting more. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the intensity between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“You sure about this?” you whispered, your voice breathless as his hand slid lower, teasing you, making your body respond instinctively to his touch.

Nicholas’ gaze locked with yours, his voice low and filled with the same determination he had shown since the day you met. “I’m sure,” he said softly, his hand moving with purpose now.

He gave you a soft, reassuring smile. His hand continued its slow descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts with deliberate ease. The heat of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your breath hitched, your body already reacting to the familiar, electric sensation of his fingers teasing your skin.

With one smooth motion, he tugged your shorts down, the fabric sliding easily off your hips. He didn’t rush, didn’t break eye contact as he took his time undressing you, as if savoring every moment. His touch was firm yet tender, knowing exactly how to build the anticipation with every movement. Your shirt followed next, leaving you exposed under his gaze, but there was no awkwardness, no hesitation—only the heat of the moment, and the years of trust and love between you.

Nicholas hovered over you, his eyes dark and intent, the air between you thick with the shared heat of the moment. His lips brushed softly against yours before trailing down your jaw, his breath hot as he moved to your neck. You could feel the anticipation building with every touch, every slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips traveled lower, kissing a path down your chest, the warmth of his mouth sending a shiver through you as he reached the curve of your breasts. He paused there, taking his time, his tongue flicking over your skin before gently closing his lips around one of your nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as his tongue swirled in slow, lazy circles.

As his mouth worked one breast, his hand slid up to your other, fingers teasing your nipple in a rhythm that matched the flicks of his tongue. The heat between you intensified, every touch, every flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands knew exactly where to go, building the tension, his fingers squeezing lightly before shifting to explore more, heightening the sensitivity of your skin.

His free hand, meanwhile, began to slide lower, tracing down your stomach and between your thighs. You gasped again as his fingers gently slipped under the fabric, teasing you at first, drawing out the anticipation. He alternated between kissing your breasts and watching your reactions as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against your most sensitive spot with an expert touch.

You arched into him, your breath catching as his fingers slipped inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. The feeling of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers inside you, sent sparks through your body. He curled his fingers just right, finding that perfect rhythm, and your body responded immediately, hips lifting toward him as your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Nicholas shifted the covers up slightly, casting the room in a soft shadow as he lowered himself under the blankets, his hands gently guiding your thighs apart. His breath hovered just above your skin, and the moment felt intimate, almost reverent, as he placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. He always took his time, prolonging the anticipation, heightening your awareness of every touch, every kiss.

“Relax,” he murmured, you could feel the vibration of his words against your skin.

Then, without further teasing, his mouth found you.

The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a soft flick that sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. You gasped, your fingers instinctively gripping the sheets as he settled into a rhythm. His free hand slid back up to your breast, teasing your nipple again, squeezing lightly as his mouth moved over you—exploring, teasing, and then going deeper. His digits slipping in and out, complementing the rhythm of his tongue.

Nicholas knew exactly how to work you, his tongue gliding over your most sensitive spot in slow, tantalizing circles before shifting, changing the pressure, keeping you on the edge without letting you tip over. The pleasure built steadily, every stroke of his tongue a carefully measured step toward your undoing. His fingers worked in time with his mouth, adding pressure and depth where you needed it most, the pleasure mounting with every touch.

You tried to stay quiet, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, but it was impossible to keep still. Your hips moved involuntarily, responding to the rhythm he set, chasing the pleasure he so expertly gave.

Beneath the covers, the soft sound of his breath mingled with the wet, quiet sounds of his mouth working against you, the sheets muffling the intensity of the moment but not diminishing it. The world outside the bed faded to nothing, and it was just Nicholas—his hands gripping your breast and working between your legs, his mouth coaxing your body higher and higher with each flick of his tongue.

Your fingers tangled in the sheets, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Nicholas seemed to sense it too—he pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue moving faster, more precise, and his fingers working in perfect rhythm, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The tension inside you coiled tighter, ready to snap.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure as he continued, relentless but tender, pushing you further and further. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Nicholas shifted slightly, his tongue finding that perfect rhythm, his fingers deepening their motion, and the world seemed to shatter around you.

Your body tensed, the pleasure flooding through you in waves as you came, your hips arching toward him, your hands gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Nicholas didn’t stop, his tongue still working you through every shuddering moment, his fingers moving in time with the tremors running through your body as you trembled beneath him.

When the last wave of pleasure finally subsided, you lay there, breathless, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all. Nicholas emerged from under the covers, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he crawled up to meet you. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him, his body pressing down against yours in a way that was both grounding and electrifying.

"That’s just the start," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire, his hands sliding up your sides again, ready to continue what he had so expertly begun.

Nicholas hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, his breath still warm from the intensity of what he had just done. You kissed him back deeply, your hand instinctively sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. His skin was hot, his muscles taut beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his need pressing against you through the thin fabric that still separated him from you.

He pulled away slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his own red plaid pj's, and without a word, he smoothly removed them, followed by his fitted shirt, tossing them onto the floor. The muscles in his arms flexed with the movement, and the light from the bedside lamp caught the lines of his chest and abdomen. He stood over you for a moment, naked and confident, his body strong and familiar yet still capable of making your breath catch.

You took in the sight of him—the hard lines of his chest, the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the subtle sheen of sweat that glistened on his collarbone. Even after all these years, he had the ability to leave you in awe, the years of familiarity doing nothing to dull the sharp edge of your desire for him.

He noticed the way you were looking at him, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he leaned down again, brushing his lips softly against yours, his kissed trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers spreading wide over your ribcage, holding you firmly as his mouth explored your skin. Every touch, every kiss was filled with the same passion he had shown since the beginning, but there was a tenderness to it now, something that went beyond just physical desire.

He kissed his way down your body, the warmth of his lips sending a ripple of heat through you with each soft touch. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressing against you as he moved lower, his hands guiding your legs apart again, his breath teasing your skin.

But this time, as he moved between your thighs, he paused, lifting his head just slightly to meet your eyes. "You ready for this?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a kind of determined softness.

You nodded, your body already aching for him, your skin alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Nicholas positioned himself over you, his body perfectly aligned with yours. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his eyes locking with yours as he lowered himself, entering you with a slow, deep thrust that made your breath catch in your throat. The connection between you was immediate and intense, the weight of his body grounding you as he began to move.

He started slow, his movements steady and controlled, each thrust pushing deeper, filling you completely. Your body responded to him instinctively, your hips arching to meet his, your hands gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built between you, hot and urgent.

Nicholas leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, the slow grind of his hips driving you both higher with each thrust. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, the intimacy of the moment making everything feel heightened, more intense.

As he picked up the pace, the pleasure intensified, and you could feel the tension coiling deep inside you again, the familiar ache building as Nicholas moved faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps against your neck. His elbows resting on the either side of your head, his body pressing against yours in a way that left no space between you.

The sounds of your quiet gasps and his low groans filled the room, mixing with the rustling of the sheets and the steady rhythm of your bodies coming together. Every movement was precise, deliberate, and filled with the urgency of the desire that had been building between you since the moment he climbed into bed.

Nicholas' movements became more intense, his pace quickening as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable level. You could feel every inch of him, the pressure and the pleasure combining in a way that left you breathless, your body arching to meet his with every thrust.

Your hips lifted to meet him, pushing yourself closer to the edge with every thrust. Nicholas groaned softly. He kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin, his body tense with the effort of holding back, waiting for you.

“I want us to come together,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, his thrusts hitting your spot in a way that made it impossible to think about anything else.

His breath quickened, his movements becoming more urgent, his hands now gripping your waist as he thrust deeper, faster.His own control was slipping, his low groans vibrating against your skin as his body tensed.

"Come with me," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, waiting for you to tip over the edge.

That was all it took. His words, way his body moved against yours—it all came crashing together in a flood of sensation. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body tightening around him as waves of pleasure coursed through you, your breath catching in your throat as you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Nicholas followed right behind you, his body shuddering as he gave in to his own release, his movements growing erratic as he thrust deep one last time, his own moans mingling with yours as he came, his body trembling above yours as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still pressed together, both of you catching your breath, still coming down from the high, a reminder of the intimacy you had just shared.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his breath still heavy. “That was… perfect."

Just as the two of you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, your breathing still steadying, you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door. Your heart skipped a beat as a small, tentative voice broke the quiet.

“Mommy?” Amelia's voice was soft but clear in the stillness of the room, filled with concern. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your mind raced. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you frantically pulled the covers over yourself and grabbed for your shorts and sleep shirt, dressing hurriedly under the blanket. Nicholas watched you with wide eyes, his own face a mix of panic and amusement as you scrambled to get decent.

Finally, after a moment that felt far too long, you managed to pull your shirt on, smoothing your hair and taking a deep breath before facing Amelia. She stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed bear, her little brow furrowed with worry.

“Ames, baby,” you called softly, sliding out of bed and quickly making your way over to her. You crouched down in front of her, your hand resting gently on her shoulder. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not hurt, I promise.”

Amelia looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “But I heard you... You sounded like you were sad or something.”

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “I know, baby, but I’m not sad. Sometimes grown-ups just talk loud when they’re... having a conversation. I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

Her little face softened a bit, though she still looked unsure. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay,” you assured her, pulling her into a hug. “I promise, sweetheart.”

You could feel her relax a little in your arms, and you stood up, taking her small hand in yours. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded, still clutching her bear, and you gently led her back down the hallway toward her room. The quiet creak of the floorboards underfoot seemed louder in the calm of the night, the house otherwise still. When you reached her room, you flicked on the small nightlight beside her bed, casting a soft, comforting glow around the room.

You guided her to her bed, pulling back the covers and helping her climb in. She snuggled down immediately, her little bear tucked close to her chest. You sat beside her, tucking the blankets around her small frame, smoothing the fabric out with gentle hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mommy?” she asked again, her voice small as she blinked sleepily up at you.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, brushing a hand through her soft hair. “I’m sure, baby. I’m so sorry I woke you up, but everything’s fine. You can go back to sleep now, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes already starting to droop as the comfort of her bed took over. “Okay. Can you leave the door open a little?”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her one last kiss before standing up. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Nicholas had followed quietly, standing in the doorway with a soft smile on his face. He stepped forward, leaning down to kiss Amelia's cheek. “Goodnight, Amelia. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

You and Nicholas exchanged a tender smile, quietly backing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, just as she had asked.

As you returned to your bedroom, you let out a small sigh of relief, the tension from earlier finally melting away. Nicholas wrapped an arm around your waist as you slid back under the covers together.

“Well, that was close,” he whispered with a chuckle, his breath warm against your ear.

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Definitely closer than I’d like.”

Nicholas kissed the top of your head, his hand resting comfortably on your side as you settled into the bed once more. “We’re going to have to be a lot quieter next time,” he teased, pulling you closer.

“Definitely,” you agreed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as the quiet of the night wrapped around you both once again.

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