#also this was a pretty difficult question to answer

[ariestrxsh]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🍷content warning: smut, innocence corruption, praise, mommy kink, thigh riding, oral (m!receiving), glasses kink, loss of virginity, sub!virgin!matt, dom!reader, friends to lovers

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🍷summary: you and matt are best friends and share everything with one another - except for what you each sound like in bed - that is, until now.

this fic was requested/inspired by this ask 💋

never lose me

"I have a question," you told your best friend Matt over dinner, leaning in closer to him and peeking up at him before you took a big bite of your pasta. You'd invited him out to celebrate a promotion you'd gotten at work, and you also wanted to ask for boy advice.

"What's up?" He asked, tearing off a piece of garlic bread and popping it into his mouth. He pushed up the bridge of his glasses as he made eye contact with you. "When you're having sex with a girl, does it bother you when she's loud?" You giggled, kind of embarrassed to ask.

"Why would that bother me?" Matt asked, his blue eyes darting around while he thought about how to answer your questions without confessing to you that he was a virgin. "I don't know. It's just this new guy I've been casually seeing. He's like, really quiet in bed. Almost makes me feel weird for being as loud as I am," you admitted.

He nodded to let you know he was listening, but behind his glazed over stare, he was thoroughly imagining all the naughty words you'd say and all the ways you'd scream whilst in the throes of ecstasy.

"He doesn't say much. He doesn't moan very much. I can't tell if I'm not satisfying him or if he's just shy," you confided in him, smoothing out your crimson dress that hugged your curves so snugly. "Well, have you tried asking him?" Matt timidly responded, studying the way your pretty red lipstick looked.

"Well, kind of. I mean, when I'm giving him head or stroking it for him, I'll ask, 'Do you like that, baby?'" You said in a seductive tone. Matt found it difficult to look you in the eye as he felt blood rushing to his appendage below his waist at the tone of voice you used. He took his napkin and subtly placed it on his lap to hide his growing erection.

"Mhmm," Matt nodded, halfway reassuring you that he was listening and halfway answering the question you'd just asked. "And he'll say it just like that, 'mhmm,' but even the way you said it sounded more convincing than when he says it. I just feel like he's not into it."

You took a sip of your red wine, your third glass of the night, leaving a lipstick print behind on the glassware. "Well, he's probably just nervous. I can't imagine he wouldn't like it when you.. do that stuff to him," Matt struggled to get out, twisting his ring like he always did when he was thinking about something.

"Are you shy in bed? I get the feeling you want to be loud, but you hold back," you lowered your volume, smirking at him. "That's none of your business!" He widened his eyes and smiled at you while he blushed. "See? You're already getting all shy on me," you laughed, taking another drink.

He nibbled on his lip and fiddled with his ring some more, and you noticed it had been a while since he touched his food. "Matty, are you okay? I didn't mean to get too personal with you or anything. I just get curious about what you're like in bed sometimes," you chuckled, reaching over and brushing your thumb against the back of Matt's hand.

Matt's gaze flickered up at yours and he raised his eyebrows in a surprised expression. "What!? You don't ever think about that kind of thing?" You replied, your cheeks turning pink. "I mean, of course I do," he laughed, hiding his face behind his hands.

"Why don't you satisfy my curiosity then and tell me how you sound?" You playfully flirted with him, slipping off your high heel and running your foot up Matt's pant leg, which turned Matt on even more. "Listen. I would have told you by now if I knew," Matt timidly replied, looking up at you for your reaction. "What do you mean?" You asked, gathering and twisting your noodles with your fork.

"I mean, I've never had sex," Matt said quietly, bracing for your reaction. He knew you weren't the type to tease him about it, but he was just so used to it by now that he was already prepared for it. You accidentally lost your grip on your fork and it fell against your plate with a loud clatter as you peered up at him once more.

"Never?" You asked with a bit of pity resounding in your voice. "Never," he innocently shook his head. "But surely you've done other stuff," you insinuated, picking your fork back up and picking at your food. "Nope," Matt softly answered, picking up his glass of water. "Why not, Matty? There's no way you haven't had any offers," you answered.

You knew Matt never talked about his sex life with you, but you always assumed it was just because he was being a gentleman and respecting the privacy of his sexual partners. It's not like Matt wasn't good-looking, and even though he was a bit dorky, you always found that endearing about him.

"I mean, girls are interested in me, and I can usually tell when they are, but all the girls who have ever been interested are so indirect, and all they do is drop hints like they want me to make the first move. I'm just not really into that. I want a woman who pursues me for once," Matt shrugged, adjusting his glasses again.

"So, you're saving your virginity for a dominatrix?" You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing him and giving him a sly smirk. You watched as Matt got all flustered and started running his fingers through his brown hair. "Well, I wouldn't word it like that. I just want a woman who's in charge and knows what she wants," Matt replied, blushing.

"Yeah? You want her to boss you around a little in bed, baby?" You cooed through your seductive smile. Matt rolled his eyes and let out a nervous giggle, but he neither confirmed nor denied your allegation.

You knew that your friendship with Matt was unconventional. You guys often did things together and talked about topics that most people would consider to be inappropriate for friends to engage in, but neither one of you minded how close you were. After all, you were just friends.

The waitress approached your table, offered you some boxes to take the rest of your food to go, and dropped off the check. Matt started to reach for his wallet, but you stopped him. "No, no, no. I invited you out, baby. I'll pay for your dinner," you grinned at him, reaching for your purse.

"Twisted my arm," Matt jokingly scoffed at you and acted like it was the biggest inconvenience to put his wallet back into his pocket, but he secretly loved that you always insisted on covering his bill. After you'd paid and left a generous tip, you went to get up from your chair.

"You ready, Matt?" You asked, standing up and grabbing your purse and your coat. "Uh, wait. You think we could sit here for a few more minutes?" Matt latched onto your arm, stopping you from leaving the table. There was an urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, of course. Why? What's up?" You tilted your head at him and softly caressed his face. "Please. You're gonna make it worse. Need just a few minutes. That's all," he said, batting your hand away. Your eyes traveled to the napkin placed over his lap, and you picked up on what the problem was.

"Oh, don't worry. We'll wait here until it goes away," you smirked at Matt, biting your lip. He blushed and let out a nervous laugh at how easily turned on he was, but you secretly loved it.

Once Matt's hard on had subsided, the two of you made your way back out into the parking lot, your red heels clicking against the pavement beneath you. You threw your arm around his shoulder, steadying yourself on him and towering over him. He reciprocated your gesture, hooking his arm around your waist.

"So, do you really think about what I sound like in bed?" He teased you, unable to let go of that tidbit of information you'd shared earlier. "Oh, from time to time," you snickered. You pulled your keys out of your bag and went to unlock your car, but Matt reached for them. "Hey, how about I drive? You've had a few drinks."

"Yeah, just a few," you rolled your eyes, holding your keys out of his reach. "Come on. I know that you're careful. But what if someone else causes an accident? Then you'd automatically be at fault because you had three glasses of wine tonight," Matt looked at you with his big, blue eyes.

He knew you were stubborn, but he always knew how to reason with you. "Fine," you smiled at him, handing him your keys and hopping into the passenger seat.

Matt started up your car, tilted the rearview mirror down, and moved the seat forward a bit to adjust to how much shorter he was than you. "It's so weird seeing you in the driver's seat. You're always my passenger princess," you teased him, connecting your phone to bluetooth and throwing on one of your playlists. He playfully side-eyed you as you serenaded him from the passenger seat.

When he pulled up to your house, he lowered the volume on your car speakers. "Hey, you mind if I crash here tonight? I kind of didn't think about the fact that I don't have a ride home unless I take your car," he innocently asked, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

"Of course you can stay here, Matt. You're always welcome to stay the night with me," you ran your thumb over the back of his hand again, a gesture you did often because you knew how much Matt valued physical touch. You stepped out of your car and grabbed your purse and your coat, slinging both over your shoulder. Matt, who still had your keys, unlocked your front door, letting the two of you inside.

You steadied yourself using Matt's shoulder as you stepped out of your heels, one foot at a time, still towering over the boy by a few inches. "You know, Matt. I don't think you should be self-conscious about being a virgin. I think it's really hot," you giggled into his ear, unable to stop thinking about how pure and innocent he was.

"Well, I was never insecure about it until people laughed at me when I told them," Matt responded, looking down and pushing up his glasses. "That's because other people are insecure and convinced that everything is a race. Don't worry about them," you drunkenly responded. "Thanks for saying that," Matt shrugged and gave you a smile.

"Come up to my room with me, Matty," you cooed, running your stiletto nails through his hair. He glanced up at you with a submissive expression and nodded, following you up the stairs. His gaze landed on your legs, and he silently appreciated every curve as you led him up to your bed in a calculated manner.

"I wanna shower before bed. Will you help me with my zipper?" You asked him once the two of you were standing in your master bedroom outside your bathroom. "Sure," Matt replied, feeling the tension in the air as you spun around, peeking over your shoulder.

He took the zipper between his two shaky fingers and slowly pulled it down, revealing your back to him. "Come hang out with me while I shower so I don't get bored?" You invited him in, batting your lashes in his direction. "Yeah," he replied in a soft tone.

You turned the dial on your tub and began running the water while you grabbed your makeup wipes and started washing the lipstick from your mouth. Matt sat on the edge of your bathroom counter, watching you remove the pigmented color from your face.

"Matty, I know you don't know what you sound like during sex, but indulge me for a second. How do you sound when you touch yourself?" You softly asked him, looking into his blue eyes. His cheeks started to turn bring red, and his face grew warm. "Um, I guess I'm not super loud, but I make some noise, and I definitely have to try to stay quiet," Matt disclosed to you.

"Yeah? I bet you whimper," you smirked at Matt. "Why are you thinking about that?" Matt wondered, teasing you and purposely ignoring your accusation. "Just a little curious. That's all," you seductively replied, still buzzing from the wine. "Well, just for the record, I think I would like it if a girl were loud in bed," Matt smirked at you. "Oh, really?" You asked, licking your lips. "Mhmm," he quietly answered you.

"No peeking," you ordered Matt as you started to slip out of your dress. He covered his eyes and shut them until you'd disappeared behind the shower curtain. "You can look now," you said to Matt as you tilted your head back, allowing the hot water to drench your hair.

He let his eyes adjust back to the bathroom lighting, and he watched as the steam in the air began to fill the space in front of him. He took off his glasses, wiping the condensation that was in the air from them before placing them back on his face.

"Thank you for driving me home and for being such good company," you thanked Matt from the other side of the curtain. "That's what friends are for," he responded, but the word friends started to lose its meaning and began to seem more like a strange sound than an actual term the longer it tumbled around in Matt's head.

"So this guy you've been seeing," Matt started off with a twinge of jealousy in his voice. "What about him?" You peeked your head out from behind the curtain with shampoo in your hair. "Do you think you'll end up dating him?" Matt asked, his eyes flickering up at you from his ring he was fidgeting with again.

"I don't know. I don't want to sound superficial, but the fact that he's so quiet during sex and doesn't give me any reassurance that I'm doing a good job is kind of a dealbreaker. It really kills the mood for me," you admitted, removing your detachable shower head and rinsing out your hair with it.

"What kinds of things would you want him to say?" Matt casually wondered out loud. "It's kind of embarrassing," you started to say, scrubbing your body. "You can tell me. I won't laugh," Matt assured you. "Well, I'd want him to moan really loud for me and not hold back," you started to say, letting your imagination take over.

"I'd want him to tell me how good I'm making him feel," you said, your hand dipping between your legs and softly running it along your folds while you pictured it was Matt under your control, saying this all to you.

"I'd want him to say something like, 'just like that mommy' when I'm doing something with my tongue that he really likes," you hissed through your teeth as you spread your lips open with two fingers, letting the warm water from the shower head hit your most sensitive place.

Matt quietly listened, his lips falling slightly open and his eyes subtly widening as he pictured you doing unspeakable things. His erection started to strain against his pants.

"And I'd want him to tell me when I'm about to make him cum," you said right before an obvious whimper escaped your lips as you kept the shower head pointed at your clit. Matt started to giggle. "Hey, you said you wouldn't laugh," you peeked out from behind the shower curtain, giving Matt a pouty face.

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing because I think it's funny or anything. I just laugh when I'm nervous," Matt replied, sighing and fidgeting with his hair. "Awh. Do I make you nervous, baby?" You cooed, and Matt blushed and nervously chuckled in response.

"Another reason he and I probably won't ever date is that he doesn't really like how close we are," you admitted to Matt. "You and me?" He asked, sounding surprised. "Mhmm," you hummed from the shower. "He knows we're just friends, right?" Matt asked, unfogging his glasses once more.

"Yeah, but he thinks something's going on between us," you replied, shutting off the water after you'd rinse all your bodywash off of you. Matt was caught off-guard by this, but the more he silently mulled over the dynamic the two of you shared, the more he realized how often the two of you toed of the line of being just friends and being more than friends.

"Well, he doesn't have anything to worry about. I'm a virgin," he laughed and shrugged, putting his glasses back on. He watched as you leaned out of the shower to grab your towel, exposing your breast to him while you held eye contact and smirked when you watched his gaze drop to your chest.

"I'm sure you'll lose your virginity before you know it," you responded, wrapping the towel around yourself and stepping out of the shower. "You think so?" Matt asked, chewing on his lip. "I know so. There's no way a cute little submissive thing like you isn't going to draw in the attention of a girl who's bold enough to make a move," you cooed, licking your lips as your eye caught a glimpse of his hard on. "I hope so," he whispered.

You sauntered off into your room, and Matt followed behind like a lost puppy dog. You dropped your towel and started changing in front of him, and in an attempt to be as respectful as possible, he turned his gaze away from you.

"I'm gonna go get set up in the guestroom, and I'll see you in the morning," Matt told you, getting ready to leave the room as you slipped into a pair of underwear and a tank top. "Oh, come on, Matty. Stay. What's the fun of a sleepover if we don't get to hang out all night until we fall asleep in the same bed like we always do?" You asked, pouting at him.

He slowly nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. "You don't mind if I sleep in just this, do you?" You wondered, presenting your pretty, black lace panties and black camisole. "I don't mind," Matt answered, staring at you in awe.

You dried off your hair and started brushing through it, and after a few more moments of silence, you brought up the original topic of discussion, the same one you and Matt had been dancing around and circling back to all night.

"Could I actually just show you how loud I am?" You shifted your eyes up at Matt as you caught your lip between your teeth. "Show me how loud you are?" He naively wondered. "How loud I can get during sex? I really feel self-conscious about it, and I need your opinion," you batted your lashes again. "Uh, sure. Why not?" Matt said, trying to keep his cool. "This is purely for science," you raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded.

He felt like he was in a dream, watching as you put each of your legs on either side of his knee. You lowered your weight down onto it until your clothed pussy was resting right on his thigh, the increase in pressure creating a wonderful sensation for you. He could feel your heat and the soft thump thump of your throbbing clit through your panties. You leaned in and locked your soft lips onto his.

It wasn't the first kiss you'd shared. You'd kissed each other a handful of times when you were younger, under the guise that you were just practicing, but this was definitely the most passionate one.

His whole body started buzzing as your tongue begged for entrance, swirling around in his mouth. He could taste the red wine on your breath. You let out a loud moan against Matt's lips as you started rocking back and forth on his leg.

He immediately felt the fabric of his jeans strain against his hard cock as he studied the way your lips fell open and your eyes fell shut once you'd pulled back from the kiss. "Oh, Matt," the words escaped your lips loudly as you picked up the pace. He loved hearing you say his name in such an intimate manner and seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

Your hands made their way to Matt's chest, curling your fingers and latching onto the his jacket as you rode his thigh, and you slowly started to push the fabric off over his shoulders. Your involuntary sensual sounds filled the room, and you started grinding on his knee a little harder.

Matt held his breath as you reached for the bulge in his jeans and started palming it through the denim. "Oh," he quietly whimpered at your touch.

He could feel how wet you were getting, rhythmically rolling your hips forward as you humped his thigh. Your moans resounded, reaching their crescendo as you fell apart on Matt's knee. "That's it. Gonna cum," you cried out.

You held him in an embrace as you finished, falling limp against him and nearly screaming in his ear. He wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, your wet hair tickling his forearms and your chest pressing against his cheek as it rose and fell while you caught your breath. You were both blushing.

"Did you think I was too loud?" You quietly whispered just above his ear. "You were loud, but I liked it a lot," Matt said after a short pause. You let out a laugh. Matt's cock was aching. "Oops. Sorry about the mess," you mumbled as you climbed off his knee, revealing a wet spot you'd left behind on his jeans. "I don't mind," he replied quietly, staring up at you.

Maybe the two of you were too close, and maybe it was inappropriate to grind on your best friend's thigh, but why stop now? His breath hitched in his throat as you descended to a kneeling position in front of him. "Now it's your turn," you seductively relayed, your fingers crawling across his lap, making their way to his zipper.

"My turn? For what?" Matt naively asked, wide-eyed. "To show me how you sound in bed. Please, Matty. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight unless I know," you pouted at him, undoing the button on his jeans. "Wait. What if this complicates our friendship?" Matt wondered out loud. "Oh, come on, Matty. We're basically already dating. We do everything a couple would do except have sex. Maybe it'll actually make things less complicated," you smirked at him.

Deep down, he knew you might be right. "O-okay," Matt stammered, peering down at the way the teeth of his zipper came undone between your fingers. He went to take off his glasses, but you stopped him. "Matty, please. Keep them on," you requested, and he nodded.

You gave him a lustful and devious expression as you pulled his pants down just enough to access his throbbing dick. He lifted his hips as he looked into your hypnotic eyes. You reveled in the fact that you were going to be the first to make him make those sounds that were about to pour from his mouth. You reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock, mesmerized by the sight.

His tip was the same shade as his parted lips, and it was shiny with pre-cum already. You started to curl your fingers around its thickness and gently stroke it up and down. "Look at that," you gasped while you observed more clear liquid drool out of it, admiring how sensitive it was. Matt softly whimpered as it quivered in your hand.

You ran your palm up his shaft, grazing the head and spreading the fluid around, using it as lubricant while you pumped it back and forth. He let out a soft whine as you stimulated him. "Good boy," you praised him in a low, seductive tone.

He started gently bucking his hips up, driving his sensitive dick further into your hand while he let out a few stifled moans. "Don't hold back, baby," you cooed, picking up speed. "Mmm. It feels so good, mommy," he cried out, sending blood straight to your clit.

"That's it. Let me hear you," you responded, slowly closing the distance between his aggravated tip and your soothing lips, latching onto his most sensitive nerve endings. He gasped at the sensation. It was impossible for him to stay quiet.

Fervent noises filled the room while he watched as you made the head disappear behind your lips, then his shaft, and then you slid all the way down until your nose was pressed up against his lower tummy. "Yes, yes, yes," he whimpered, holding your wet hair out of your face.

You loved how responsive and interactive he was, doing everything you would have wanted a boy to do while giving him head. You bobbed your head up and down a few times, coaxing more pleasant sounds from Matt while he savored the soft, wet, warm feeling of your mouth.

You slid all the way down on his shaft again until the tip was in your throat, this time holding still while you hummed against his dick. "Please. Please keep going," Matt begged, trying to buck hip hips again, but you held them down, keeping him from being able to move. You were driving him crazy.

"Mommy, please move your mouth. I'll do anything," he implored, his voice cracking with desperation. You teased him, moving your head up and down but just slightly and at a painfully slow pace. "Faster, mommy," he begged you.

After a few more minutes of his pleading, you finally gave in, sloppily drooling all over his cock while you moved in a steady, calculated rhythm, stimulating every nerve ending on his rod while he inched closer to the finish line. "Feels so good. Gonna make such a mess for you, mommy," Matt desperately whined.

The words leaving his mouth suddenly had you aware of how empty you were feeling between your legs.

You moved back up his length with your mouth, but this time, when you reached the tip, you slipped it out of your mouth and smirked up at Matt. "Please. No. Why'd you stop?" He wondered, sounding distressed by the way his pleasure came to an end suddenly before he was done.

You stood up. "Be a good boy and wait," you responded lustfully, dropping your panties and pulling off your top. Matt fell silent as he admired your body, his eyes following every curve.

The shape of your body drew in his stare to your most intimate parts, the way your thighs came together in a v shape, practically directing his eyes towards your pussy. His eyes wandered up towards your breasts that he'd only ever seen for seconds at a time when you'd changed in front of him.

"Be a good boy and let mommy cum one more time, and then it'll be your turn. Got it?" You asked, slowly stepping towards him again. "Anything you want, mommy," he obediently nodded.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap, taking his dick into your grip and guiding it towards your hole. "Oh my god," Matt gutturally moaned with his eyes rolling back as you slowly descended onto him, taking it inch by inch. He couldn't believe you were taking his virginity.

"Don't you dare cum yet," you smirked at him as you lowered all the way down and started bouncing on his cock. He nodded at you with his glazed over eyes and his jaw hanging open as you picked up speed, your tits bouncing in his face while he admired them.

You started rubbing your clit while you rode Matt, and more urgent whimpers poured from both of your lips. "How's it feel, Matty?" You cooed. "Best feeling ever," he moaned, peering into your eyes. "You're so big. You fill me up so good!" You exclaimed as his dick rutted into your g-spot. He swooned at your compliment, placing both his hands on your waist.

You rocked your hips forward, your pussy gliding up and down his length, and you felt your legs behind to shake. You could feel Matt's dick throbbing in your hole as he whimpered for you and looked up at you with his most desperate expression, which sent you past the point of no return.

Your pussy spasmed around his sensitive cock, and he could feel every contraction as you called out his name loudly over and over. You rubbed your clit in tighter, faster circles. He felt your whole body tighten while you shook and loudly squealed as you finished onto him, leaving behind the milky evidence of how much fun you'd had leaking down his shaft.

"Please," he begged, staring down at the mess you made on his cock and knowing he'd done that to you had him right on the edge of his climax. "Please what, baby?" You bit your lip, still riding him. "Please, mommy. Don't stop. Need a warm place to cum inside," he cried out.

"Of course, baby. Of course you can cum inside," you assured him, cradling his head and pushing your breasts into his face. Your rose-scented bodywash filled his senses. He peered up at you with his pretty blue eyes that were filled with lust and desire. His eyebrows were furrowed together in an expression of sheer pleasure.

Goosebumps arose all over his flesh as an orgasmic rush coursed through his body. He whimpered fervently against your chest, his cock twitching and draining inside of you. You loved watching him come undone underneath you. You continued to bounce up and down on his dick until he started hissing through his teeth about how sensitive it was.

You brought your movements to a stop, tilted Matt's chin up with your hand, and kissed him while he was still inside of you. He looked up at you wide-eyed and panting. "Wow, I never knew sex could be that intense," he innocently shook his head. "I made you feel good, didn't I?" You asked, nibbling on your lip. "So good," he replied, pushing up his glasses.

"That was so hot. I knew you'd be a whimperer."

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[xetlynn]

Twilight Imagines- Jasper x Reader

Curiosity

[Masterlist]

Requested by: @futurequeen2018-blog

“Are you sure you want to come?” Bella asks me as we had just gotten into her truck. “Isn’t this against your guys' agreement or something?” Starting up the vehicle but also not glancing my way. I hum softly, not really knowing how to respond. It is against the treaty to go on one another’s land they claimed. 

Technically on the other hand if they get permission it is different. And I have permission from the one and only. Carlisle Cullen. I know my family would be angry. 

Very angry. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. “Just go, questions will be answered in due time.” I joke with Bella, snapping my seatbelt on. Surprisingly she takes it and reverses out of my mother’s driveway. 

The only reason I got permission from the vampire was because I was with Bella when Edward came over. I pleaded with her boyfriend to let me talk with his “dad.” I needed to know their side of the story. Everyone’s history. I believe my people of course. I had to know more. I got to call the sculpture of a man. His voice was sultry, smooth and almost angelic. I felt safe instantly and I now understand why Bella trusted them so. 

I explained my curiosity, my interest in learning about them, he told me the dangers. On both sides. I knew what I was getting into. It wasn’t difficult to push though, with a sigh from him he told me I was welcome to come over with Bella, to keep it a secret. 

“We’re here.” Her voice startles me, my eyes widen but I quickly calm myself. Giving a small smile and exiting the loud red vehicle. “Oh.” I mumble, slamming the door shut behind me. Four of the Cullen’s were already outside to greet us. Edward rushed to his lover as I walked toward the other three. Carlisle reaches a hand out and I take it. Curtly shaking it, then letting it drop to my side. “An honor, [Name].” He nods his head, I do the same. “Thank you.” I say. 

“This is Esme and Emmett.” He introduces me to the pretty duo beside him. His wife and other “Son.” Esme gives me a gentle smile, not offering her hand though. “Nice to meet you again.” 

Oh, right. We’ve met before. “Yes, it is.” I attempt a smile but now I’m beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. “Don’t go all wolf on us now, come inside.” Emmett’s voice booms loudly, motioning for me to follow him. I glance back to Bella’s red truck then over to Carlisle who gives me a reassuring expression. I let out a breath, letting my feet take over. 

As beautiful as their house is outside it’s even more gorgeous inside. I soak everything in, my eyes wandering everywhere. I notice the other three Cullen’s in the living room as we get to the kitchen. They were talking amongst themselves. The blonde’s beauty was almost overwhelming and then my eyes landed on the other girl. Her eyes are already piercing into mine. 

Once she sees me look at her she gives me a genuine smile which I wasn’t expecting. I smile back, shortly waving. As I went to look at the guy he was walking away. Seemingly… upset? “Hi, I’m Alice! You strangely don’t smell awful.” The girl from before is now in my face and I take a step back, alarmed. 

“...hi, and thanks?” I shyly respond. Jacob told me they despised wolves, why are they being so nice to me? “It is weird that you smell decent.” The blonde interjects the conversation that I think I was going to have with the short brunette. “Um- I don’t know how to respond to that.” I awkwardly chuckle, avoiding eye contact with them. 

“I thought it was just going to be Carlisle and I.” I rub the back of my neck, changing the subject. I didn’t expect to meet everyone. Well almost everyone since that one guy didn’t want to meet me. For some reason it kind of hurt my feelings? I don’t understand why. 

“That is what was supposed to happen but they are nosey. Felt entitled to meet you.” Carlisle steps in, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, well if they want to stay for the time being I don’t mind hearing everyone’s side of things. That’s why I’m here.” I smile, folding my arms in front of my chest, mainly to comfort myself.  “If you’re alright with it.” He repeats, I glance at everyone who was kind of staring me down. I swallow thickly, looking back up to him. “It’s fine.” I almost whisper. “Let’s go to the couch, to get more comfortable.” Esme leads the way into the living room. “I’m Rosalie by the way.” The beautiful woman says, nudging my arm. “[Name].” I say back. 

We all sit down as a group, except Emmett who stays standing behind his wife. Rubbing her shoulders every now and then. 

And this is kind of how it’s been since that day. We talk in the living room of their house, telling me their stories. Carlisle always has more to say due to being the eldest out of all of them. Hearing the heartbreaking things they’ve been through to be who they are now just makes me not understand why we hate them so much. Not all of them are evil, just like not all humans are evil. It’s a 50/50 chance to meet someone bad. You never truly know who you are going to meet. It’s scary but that’s the price of living. Or not living in their cases. 

Everytime I come over, there’s that one guy who always leaves the house. I learned his name is Jasper. There’s only been two times where he has stayed, It’s not for a long time either. For thirty minutes at most and it seems like if I look at him too much he tenses up and that’s what causes him to leave. I ask Rosalie and Alice about him quite a bit. Curiosity getting the best of me. Emmett makes fun of me, telling me I have a puppy crush on him. Insulting if you ask me. 

Alice always tells me it’s nothing personal with him; he just has a hard time opening up to people. Especially when he finds them interesting himself. Or threatening and I hope it’s the first one because I only want to be his friend. Like I became with the three, more Rosalie, kind of Emmett as well. 

Alice has been leaving with Jasper more recently, I don’t know why. She didn’t explain it but I can tell something serious is going on. Something to do with Bella. No one will tell me anything though. I think it’s because of me being a wolf. 

With that being said it’s also been hectic at the Rez. Paul, my cousin keeping a closer eye on me. Making me stay with the pack to train. Again it is kept a weird secret against me. Until I found out from Jacob and Leah talking. Some vampire is making an army of newborns to kill the Cullen’s. Wanting Edward and mainly Bella dead. They’re tracking her scent and everything, someone’s been in her room. 

When I found out I ran to my car, driving to the Cullen's place, I didn’t know someone was following behind me though. Shoving my gear shift into park I run up to the front door, knocking like a mad man. The door opens and I immediately begin talking. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that’s what we’re training for? Supposedly I was training to literally do nothing too.” I glare at the person before me. It was Jasper. When my eyes landed on him something felt different. The world getting brighter. My heart rate quickened. My breathing stunted. “I- What?” I whisper, before I can say anything else though I hear a scoff behind me. 

“Are you kidding me, [Name]!?” My cousin Paul shouts behind me, Jasper and I look at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know what happened! Wait! Calm down!” I step off the porch, Jasper right next to me, trying to explain what I just did. We’ve never even talked to one another and I just imprinted on him. How stupid am I? Can a wolf even do that with a vampire? Is that natural? Is that okay? 

“You imprinted on a vampire, [Name]. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams in my face, Jasper places a hand on my cousin’s chest. “Hey, it’s not her fault and you know that.” He sticks up for me. I tense up as Paul glares at him. “Don’t touch me, freak.” He shoves the guy. I feel my skin get hot. 

“Don’t touch him!” I scream and push Paul back, causing him to stumble. 

All of a sudden I’m not onto the steps of the porch, hurting my back. I look back to see the Cullen’s getting in defensive stances. My eyes go back to the guys in front of me. Paul backs up and I think he’s going to walk it off but instead he runs back toward Jasper, shifting into his wolf form. Jasper braces himself for impact but I quickly get up shifting in my own form. Attacking Paul from the side. 

Both of us get up after rolling in the dirt. I shake it off, getting in front of Jasper protectively. Baring my teeth at my cousin. Snapping when he gets too close. “You’re going to fight for him over your own family!?” He questions me. “He’s my mate now, I have no choice.” I growl. He gets close to me but I snarl. Standing my ground. “It’s in our rules. You can’t harm my imprint, Paul.” I remind him. He attempts to get at me again but when I don’t move he pauses. Not responding to me. Just staring me down. I do the same, not losing my stance. Then suddenly he huffs, running off. 

I look back to the Cullen’s whimpering as an apology, bowing my head down. Closing my eyes. Not believing the mess I just made. How could I imprint on Jasper? Why did I have to do that!? He probably resents me now, I screwed up my every chance of being normal to him. 

“It’s okay, hun.” A country accent rips through the air, a hand petting under my chin and I look up to see Jasper giving me a gentle smile, his dimples forming. “You did nothing wrong, [Name].” Edward tells me, shocking me. I just wish I was in my human form but I know if I shift back I’ll be naked. 

“Go get her a blanket.” Jasper says, as if he was reading my mind. I know he can feel my emotions, but not read my thoughts like Edward. Alice comes toward me with a large blanket, wrapping it over me back giving me enough privacy to go back to my human form. 

When I do I grip the blanket, covering myself. “Thank you.” I huff, feeling sweaty and gross. “No problem, love.” Jasper helps me up, keeping an arm wrapped around me. “I understand if this is weird for you.” I automatically say to him. He breathes out a quiet laugh. 

He looks around at the others, giving a look as if to tell them to leave us for a moment. They do so, going back inside. “We never even spoke and now we’re supposed to be mates.” I drop my head, embarrassed with myself. “It’s definitely interesting.” He squeezes me closer to him. 

“Don’t you find it weird?” I ask, hiding my face in the blanket, we both sit down. “Mm, I was fond of you before you imprinted. I think this just gives me a push to get to know you.” He tells me, I gasp quietly, still hiding my face though.

“You were?”

“Yeah, nerves got to me, I couldn’t read your emotions when you looked at me. You were happy when you spoke to everyone but when you looked at me it was confusion..? I don’t know.” He explains. It grows quiet as I begin to register what he’s telling me. “Can I see your face?” He asks. I slowly do it, looking up at him. 

“You’re embarrassed.” He states. My face grows warm. “Who wouldn’t be in my position? I’m naked and I just imprinted on this handsome guy that also happens to be a vampire?” I dramatically explain, almost dropping the blanket but he lifts it back on my shoulder before that happens, leaving me with an even warmer face. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m happy with what happened.” He stares into my eyes to prove his being genuine. “Are you sure?” I quiz. 

“Positive.” He snickers. “Can I kiss you?” I blurt out, only making him laugh more. “Yes, you can.” 

I reach out with a covered hand and touch his face, pulling him into a kiss.

---------------------

I'm super sorry this took forever to come out, I've been busy with another move, along with a bunch of other personal stuff. I have been working on writings during this time I just haven't had time to edit and post it. Expect a few things to be posted within these next few days. Hopefully at least:)

[cube-cumb3r]

BELOW: FAQ (and iFAQ)

Here are some frequently (and infrequently) asked questions:

Q: It should've been longer A: Do you want me to die

Q: Will there be a data project 4? A: Eventually, but I think next up I'll make a form with Just the questions written by form-takers, because I've realized that that is actually a genius idea. Also I wouldn't need to do any work!

Q: What will you do with the questions we've written?! A: See answer above.

Q: What is the actual purpose of the survey? The data will be very difficult to analyses due to missing values! A: I'm sure I've mentioned it before in various places, but I'm interested in how people answered the survey, in addition to what they actually answered. So the "missing values" is actually part of the data! But then again I am of course also interested in the actual responses, because they're fun. If you're interested in my amateur data analysis see here, here and here.

Q: Are you enjoying the spreadsheets and the responses A: Yes, but I am also being harmed by them

Q: Why do you spell shampoo like that ("Schampoo") A: That's how it's spelled in Swedish

Q: How to eat cheese? A: I often wonder this

Q: are you hopeful for the future? your own future and the future in general A: I am very hopeful for the future, especially my own future. I was doing really bad 2020-2022 and then things were suddenly good and now I'm really excited about life, things are going well and I know what I want to do with myself!

Q: What is your take on the relationship between doctor doffinshmerts and perry the platypus A: I had a pnf phase in early 2018, and at this at the same time mysteriously I had created a superspy OC and a Mad scientist OC who were gay lovers. This was unrelated

Q: Omg i love tofu what’s ur favorite way to season it A: I typically fry broccoli and tofu cubes together and then drown them in sweet chili sauce and soy sauce. And then serve with instant noodles with a drizzle of sesame oil ontop #studentlife Q: What was the r value of that line of best fit for age vs favorite doctor? (referring to a graph included in the form) A: Oh it's complete garbage I don't even remember I just included it because the idea amused me. I think the r value was less than 0.05. If I were to make a similar graph using the data from this form it'd look like this. Correlation test shows the r-value is -0.2 which suggests possibly a weak negative linear relationship, and the p-value for Age in this regression model 0.06, which is pretty low but now low enough that I'd claim that there definitively is a relationship, it might also just be completely random.

Q: What's YOUR favorite Doctor A: 12th! Somewhere on the chart above there's a little dot for 22, 12

Q: What was that about a password? A: Don't worry about it.

Q: Are you secretly an alien trying to learn about humanity though this form so you can make a plan to take over the world and destroy all humans? A:

Q: Why A: Why....

Does anyone want to do my new google form

[pincushionx]

hello! out of curiosity, would it be possible for a witch with healing magic to let Hunter, i don’t know, bite a part of their hand off, and then just regenerate it with their magic? i’m not sure if that would defeat the plot of the au as Hunter would freely be able to chomp on someone, haha!

.

Actually they can! However it’s incredibly limiting. This method would only allow Hunter to get surface level meat. He also need organs, deep tissue, bone, ect. Also while healing magic can do all sorts of wonders and I’m sure could regenerate limbs and flesh depending on how talented the healer is. I doubt they would find someone genuine that’s would be willing to do such a thing and at a frequent rate, especially when he starts eating more and actually developing healthy eating habits. I’m sure one of his family members would be happy to do this but Hunter would never allow it. Id imagine it also be a much longer medical procedure than him simply being able to bite chunks out since that would literally him mutilating someone alive lol, even with the help of numbing or pain relief potions.

The amount of food shown would have been perfect for Hunter a few years ago but now with lots of love and healthy habits being put upon him, it’s no longer sustainable. But what healing witches can provide is blood!

Blood is a good alternative for when he’s unable to have meat so I’d imagine he’d be pretty stocked up on it. He gets frequent refills on blood, it’s also slightly more socially acceptable to have as I’d imagine blood being a regular part of some demons and those suffering from vampirism diets. I’d think most people would assume Hunter is a vampire if they don’t know about the grimwalker situation. So he takes blood bags with him on the go as food.

Of course he needs actual food and lots of it as he’s pretty malnourished and has lots of catching up to do. As well as developing healthy eating habits.

He eventually gets a pass that allows him to eat bits of bodies that aren’t being used, that where donated. So if a bunch of healer students are dissecting a cadaver, Hunter is cleanup. Or if organs are given for a transplant, Hunter could eat what wasn’t used. Obviously this disturbs Hunter but it’s better than going feral and attacking people. Of course it was a bit difficult to obtain pass but with the right strings pulled and some light threats, he was able to get it.

All these images are post canon in the Au. For the amount of pain and suffering inflected upon Hunter for the majority of this Au, I do want him to have a happy ending. While there are tragic alternatives, him having a happy ending was always my intention. While it be more difficult to reach than in canon, he gets there eventually :3

(Feel free to ask some questions but do note it may take a bit of time to answer, I already have some questions waiting rn lol)

[fatherrussia-69]

「《Happy Birthday Father R and Updates!》」

Hey Hey! Sorry for the absences, if you've been keeping up with all the updates, you'll know that we've been pretty busy this year and haven't been able to write. o(*￣▽￣*)ブ Yeahhh, School's just been eating up me and Editor T's schedules. 😩🤧 We've tried finding a good schedule for Father R to write without him getting burnt out and for me and Henchman A to be available to edit, pre-read and add our authornotes, but it's been proving to be difficult. That's why we've just settled for the goal of getting at least 2-3 chapters posted per month. It's not as many as it used to be last year, but working on the weekends seem to be the only saving grace. (￣▽￣)" There's a break coming up for Thanksgiving, so we're going to double-timing that week to try and get things posted. I cannot assure anyone that we'll get a chapter posted, but we'll have definitely made progress. I've also made a bit of a routine when it comes to writing to avoid Writer's block, and I'm proud to say Chapter 61 of SSATW is about 78% ready for posting. RAD Chapter 4 is about 64% but that's only because I haven't figured out the skeletal structure of the chapter yet- ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ Anyways, Now that Updates are out of the way, HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY BIG GUY!!! 🥳🎉🎊🎂 Happy Birthday Father R, and thank you @thegenderfluidace for surprising him with this drawing this morning. Hearing him screech in joy was one wake to wake up. Sorry about that- But truthfully, Thank you so much Ace for the drawing!!! Your art is amazing, and whether or not you were able to finish the drawing doesn't ruin the surprise in the slightest. q(≧▽≦q) As per tradition, we went bowling on his birthday and God Damn- 😀💀 I got first place, which isn't surprising. Gutter, after Gutter, After Gutter- ...( ＿ ＿)ノ｜

Ask me how this man got outdone by the NPC (accidentally added another slot so we all just randomly rolled balls down the lane). 🤧🤣 I had a rebirth on my skill tree okay? (┬┬﹏┬┬) You only had 23 points. Everyone else was above 50- Couldn't be me. 🤪😘 Just wait till next year. o(一︿一+)o Anyways, we'll see you guys pretty soon, we have some questions in our Inbox and although the Q&A has long since ended, we will answer a few of them when we can! If you guys have any questions or just want to chat with us, don't be afraid to drop by our inbox and say hello! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) ALSO WE REACHED 108 FOLLOWERS ON TUMBLR!! YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTELY FUCKING AMAZING!!!! 😍🤩😖

[abugidaithink]

what kind of gameplay do you enjoy in more difficult levels more? and do you think certain extremes get overhated for "annoying gameplay" when it could just be.. yk.. hard to play because it's an extreme

for gameplay, i'm not really a fan of memory, or other particularly learny levels. i think Decay is probably the most learny level that i'd be willing to put much time into for now. Acu's gameplay is a good example, since even though it's pretty muscle memory heavy, you can pretty easily tell what to do on a freeze-frame. the Decay 44% spider is the opposite side of things, where it's impossible to read, and also too high-CPS to easily learn. it took me like 400 attempts to pass that part on its own once, and those weren't a very enjoyable 400 attempts.

there's also the element of balancing. imo, the ideal balancing has some parts harder than others spread throughout the level, rather than the beginning or end being harder than the rest. (that's less achievable for shorter levels, but yknow) also, chokepoints should be kept to a minimum!

when it comes to levels being overhated for annoying gameplay, i feel like it's usually a case of a creator making gameplay outside their own comfortable skill range. this is why i'm generally against the idea of playing past top 1s, because it's very hard to maintain good gameplay at a difficulty level that far above what you can play. this can go for any difficulty level though! i would argue this isn't too different from what happened with The Nightmare, and that's practically not even a demon. these levels don't deserve to be despised by any means (and the GD personifications have made it harder to be really upset at levels), but i'd say it's valid to an extent to criticise them for having annoying gameplay.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

do you ever find yourself irrationally annoyed about the answer someone gave on a game show because for the past four days ive been getting endlessly frustrated at some guy on the weakest link reboot for passing on a question that began with "what english queen regnant" because oh my fucking god my dude, there have only been 6 undisputed queens regnant and 2 of them were marys and 2 were elizabeths, just name any of them, why are you passing???????

like i dont expect everyone to know that mary ii ruled alongside her husband william of orange or for anyone to think quick enough to try and process of elimination of it (liz ii, victoria and liz i are varying levels of easy to eliminate), but just give an answer at least. its not that difficult to recall both lizes and victoria, and mary i had the nickname bloody mary, like. sure mary ii and anne are lesser known, but that doesnt matter. just name one of the more known 4. maybe youd get it just for mary. maybe you wouldnt. but you definitely wont get it if you pass you absolute buffoon.

...do you see why i said it was irrational?

[sanstropfremir]

Hi! First I wanted to say I've really been enjoying your q&a! :) So here's another one. Not sure if you have any thoughts on this since it's on the music rather than the design side, but why do some 4th gen groups only have one person sing the chorus? I thought usually members have their individual lines and then the entire group songs the chorus together. It took me so long to notice because they layer the vocals in the recordings so it sounds bigger. Only when I started watching some covers did I notice only one person is singing. Specifically I was watching the various Mirotic covers and wondering why it sounds so thin, and then once I saw I started seeing it everywhere. And 4th gen is probably not right, because Twice does it too. But why? The producers know it would sound better since they layer vocals on the actual recording version. Why not just do it in real life too, literally all the members are already there.

thank you!

well, the short answer is because no one in fouth gen can sing.

the long answer is that there's been a significant decrease in the amount of debuted idols that have good vocal technique that can be performed while dancing. certain priorities are placed by companies in terms of what type of vocal training idols get, how much training they get, what type of choreography gets chosen, and even what type of people even get cast in the first place. obviously the industry is no stranger to streetcasting a rando just for looks, but in the past, and particularly with sm, there was generally effort put in to making sure that everyone slated to debut was at least a passable vocalist, even if they were cast purely for dance. but now that the trend in the industry has shifted to being more performance forward, some companies have changed some of those priorities. you can't do the same kind of vocal work that you see in second gen performances because now the choreography is too difficult and not optimized for it. the mirotic choreo is a fantastic choreo, but if you have really strong training, it doesn't inhibit vocals like something like ateez's fireworks choreo, which actively prevents them from holding steady notes. also, most companies have made the choice to emphasize dance training because it's been proven in the last several years that group vocals and even the quality of vocals don't particularly matter to the hardcore dedicated fans. fans are going to stream anything from their faves regardless of the sound, so why bother making songs that utilize a specific type of skiill that needs specific training, when you could just not and save the time and money. it takes a lot of musical training and notably training about music (not just vocal technique) in order to sing like nct or any other sm group, which is pretty much the only company that still trains their idols with good technique. there are a couple of small groups that still keep to the old standards, like a.c.e, tan, purple kiss, and onf, but it's much less common because it's become cost inefficient.

the other reason as to why they don't do it in actual performance that often is bc singing and dancing at the same time is fucking HARD. there's a reason why vocal quality improves when people are standing still. dancing and singing both involve having to control when and where you breathe and it's very difficult to do both those things together, so in order to accomodate for the increase in difficult choreography + lack of good vocal training, it's become common practice to rely more on backing tracks or exclusive line distribution in order to take the strain off the members and allow them to focus on the choreography rather than singing.

[quaranmine]

gods i fucking wish i could do that for ashes au but since its a fantasy world i opted to research japanese and indian geta for two days before writing my chapter instead

L

no but really it is sort of nice for once to have actual concrete things to research! like, my questions have...answers? real answers? that i can just look up? i'm used to doing similar to you. i always have a desire to make things scientifically accurate and omg that just does NOT play well with minecraft sometimes. [stares at moon big]

so. shakes your hand. but it's still fun to try to borrow from real-world cultures and things and try to reimagine them into canon or a fantasy environment. it's like a puzzle...that requires a LOT of thought. i've been there with empires worldbuilding before, i was looking up all kinds of stuff for the cod empire regarding wetland construction, water pollution, etc. i also end up looking at a slightly disproportionate number of NASA JPL webpages sometimes...mcyt fic taught me about the roche limit ldjsfklsfjslfj

[cinnasaur]

no but like google translate would actually be more accurate:

this isn't a canadian product, you can see the kazakh label underneath, so i think the importer translated that to english and then the english directly to french. they even misspelled provence and added extra grammar (i dunno where "à l'oignon" came from, but everything has "the" in front because that'd be "proper" french syntax in a full sentence).

"soleil de fleurs" is really getting me, i feel like that takes some kind of manual effort. the word order isn't consistent with anything else, and modern translation software would take "sun flower" and give you "fleur de soleil" or correct to tournesol, so they would've had to translate and arrange each word independently, or else actually type "sun of flowers" in english?

this just looks like someone who isn't a professional translator attempted to translate word-for-word into a language they're not fluent in and didn't check their work, and that's kinda interesting. it would've been even easier to actually just run the whole list through translation software, but hey, you tried??

anyway this literally doesn't matter and i didn't need to write an essay i just think the logistics are interesting

i’m “the petrol of sun of flowers” 

[3hks]

How to Write REALISTIC and SMOOTH Dialogue

In a story, dialogue is quite important, it helps the readers paint a picture of what's happening and the characters themselves. However, it can be difficult to avoid the unnaturalness and choppiness that comes with a lack of experience. But luckily, I have put together A LOT of advice on how you can get over that rockiness and improve!

*** KEEPING YOUR DIALOGUE REALISTIC, AND PACING ***

>> Keep your characters in character:

Dialogue is a remarkably quick way for readers to determine your character's personality. Thus, you want their speech patterns to remain fairly consistent so the audience won't get confused. If your character is more serious, then they will use less slang and perhaps a more impressive vocabulary. If your character is more relaxed, they will use more slang and compress the words. (such as "dunno," "kay," "y'know," etc.)

Basically, you want their tone to match their traits so the way that they talk is more realistic and personlized to themselves. If the way all your characters speak is the same, there's something wrong. A strong tip is to put yourself in your character's shoes and imagine how they would respond!

>> Take the situation into consideration:

This is another part of keeping your characters in, well, character. Different emotional situations will have a different effect on separate people, so make sure that you have an idea of how your character will act during stressful, irritating, and sad times.

If your character is normally cold, they will struggle if it comes to comforting other people because they have less experience in that field.

>> Don't take too long with their words:

Unlike when narrating something, most people talk just to get the idea across. They will be more specific and quicker with what they say. (This excludes any character who likes to talk a lot.) Unless it's on purpose, they won't dance around the topic. Think of when you casually chat with your friends; you're pretty unlikely to use certain words and/or phrases that might be common to use while narrating.

If you want to explain something complicated, instead of writing out a paragraph of just one person talking, use a question-and-answer prompt! This is where another character continuously asks related questions that get answered by another person, so you can indirectly reveal your explanation.

*** HOW TO WRITE A SMOOTHER CONVERSATION AND DIALOGUE TAGS***

>> Having a variety of dialogue tags:

This is a pretty basic thing to look out for if you're new to writing conversations. Using words like "said," every other sentence can easily make it feel choppy and robotic. Instead, use words like "murmured," "smirked," etc. to paint some emotion into their words. Additionally, vary the location of the dialogue tags! They don't all have to go after the statement, you can include something in the beginning or even the middle, too!

Examples:

Beginning - She tilted her head, "What are you talking about?"

Middle - "Oh," he blinked, "I actually never thought about that."

End - "Wait up!" She exclaimed loudly, waving her hands around.

>> Using no dialogue tags to create a smooth conversation:

Having too many tags can also overwhelm your reader--remember, sentence variety is a crucial part of writing--so you can always drop them if they're unneeded. This applies when your characters (two is the suggested amount) are talking back and forth in a pattern straightforward enough for the reader to understand who's talking without it having to be labeled.

Dropping dialogue tags in these moments can create a smoother atmosphere during the conversation because the reader only has to focus on the talking present.

*** USING SLANG, STUTTERS, FILLER WORDS, AND PAUSES ***

Human speech is often not perfect; when talking, we often make mistakes such as filler words, grammatically incorrect phrases, etc. Hence, for more natural-sounding dialogue, it's important to incorporate some of these.

>> Pauses and stutters:

When reading dialogue, we read it at a steady pace unless it's written otherwise. However, that steady pace can soon get too robotic and too smooth. Luckily, there are several ways to change this! You can use dialogue tags, (ex: she quickly spoke) commas, and ellipsis (...). These are often integrated when the character is hesitant, nervous, answering something, or when they need to admit something. The same idea applies to stutters--they're mainly used to demonstrate anxiousness, which can be found in varying situations.

>> Filler words and slang:

Filler words can really just be used where you see fit. They may be used in the situations I previously mentioned (because it shows someone stumbling over their words) but it's ultimately up to you!

Slang, just like everything else, should not be used too often, or it will seem forced and exaggerated. The point is to sound natural, and increasing amounts of repetitiveness can ruin it. It's also important to remember that in real life, our conversations move slower; when someone speaks, another person usually doesn't respond quite literally, right after. However, in writing, dialogue can actually often seem that way, which is why using tags and these imperfections of speech is pivotal for building a realistic conversation!

*** CONCLUSION ***

Lastly, a key point when writing dialogue is to ALWAYS read the conversations! Whether it be in your head or out loud, it can often help you catch anything that seems off! Additionally, like I mentioned at the very beginning, write dialogue from your character's perspective! Imagine yourself as them and how they/you would talk. Try to keep your dialogue tags, sentences, and word use varied to create a natural conversation!

If you were struggling before, I hope that this (extra) long guide was able to really offer you some insight and useful tips! If you read this far, thank you!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 1: 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑

title: poker face synopsis: luckily, mr. zero didn't knew you were a mugiwara. luckily, mr. zero fell for your bluffs. unfortunately, you never imagined it would be that hard to not fall for crocodile's charm. [3.1K] cw: mugiwara!fem!reader, strip poker, strip tease, public sex, cock crush, nipple stimulation, size difference, fingering (f!receiving), riding, biting, scratching, finger sucking, p in v, creampie, possessive behavior, mob boss meets a baddie, pussy so good he wonders about marriage.

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With a thick cigar between his teeth, Crocodile forced himself to smile. “Five of a kind”, he dropped his cards on the table. “Seems like the house won. Again.”

Crocodile’s presence in Rain Dinners works to reinforce his reputation as a hero in this wretched island. Unfortunately, it also means Crocodile is tormented by the most boring clientele.

To watch someone gambling everything they own out of delusional hope and losing it all because of sheer mischance is only interesting the first few hundreds of times. Now, all Crocodile feels is disdain.

He curses those vermin that stole the joy of victory.

Murmuring complaints, two bettors left the table. The croupier stretched his arm, reaching for the cards left far away from him. As the cards were shuffled, Crocodile took in the chance to observe the tables nearby. Searching for chaos to be dealt with, such a common occurrence in a casino, an unusual sight stole his attention.

A long, thick, light pelted fur coat. Crocodile inhaled the smoke, holding it in. Admiring you with that coat over your shoulders, no one would’ve imagined this is the middle of a desert. And still, you didn’t break a sweat.

One of the bettors decided it was the right moment to thank Crocodile for his protection over Alabasta. He did his best to sound modest, heroic. To embody the last hope of this dying island. The moment a white blur entered his peripheral vision, Crocodile simply ignored the man’s existence.

With a hand over the chair’s top rail, you stared directly at the croupier. “May I?”, you asked, voice sultry as the desert.

Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, releasing the smoke in the direction opposite from you. “Made just in time”, he moved his hand towards the croupier ready to start. “Do you know how to play, hon’?”

You took a sip from your glass, not bothering to answer him. Placing your coat over the chair’s rail, you reached inside its pocket and took the poker chip’s box. You left it open on the table, emerald dress moving on your body as you sat down and crossed your legs.

The box was filled to the brim.

Your lack of interest on him ignited something within Crocodile. Curiosity. Something far more interesting than gambling against weak bluffs. “New to poker?”, Crocodile smiled devilish. The sort of smile that make pretty women like you forget about decency.

If only you had looked at him.

“New to this island”, you answered, sounding as bored as Crocodile was before you got there. The way you danced around his question was enough for him to know you didn’t want the others to think of you as an easy target. Usually, Crocodile would simply profit on it. This time, with you staring straight into his eyes, he couldn’t care less about this game. “Is it worth?”

“It will be.”

A promise Crocodile intended to fulfill.

Feeling his gaze burning your skull, to not smile was never so difficult. If you were weaker, you would’ve laugh until your cheeks fell apart from your face. How funny. How alluring. Ah, Luffy really told you the truth.

Your life will be funnier around me, Luffy gave you the brightest smile you ever saw. Stroking your cheek, he cleaned the trace of tears. I will never let you get bored.

A Shichibukai stands before you, unable to see you as part of the threat he is so interest in dealing with. The man that sent thousands of bounty hunters after your crew, that forced Vivi to witness as unnecessary violence tore her nation in pieces, doesn’t even know that you’re part of the group he wants to exterminate.

Good. That means the plan of distracting Crocodile has a chance of working.

Each bettor made an initial contribution for the deal to start. At every round, you raised the amount of chips. It didn’t matter if others were dropping out of the deal or if Crocodile doubled the bet with no hesitance. You simply continued to bet more.

That was alluring. It told more about you than your pretty lips could. You’re not here to make money. You’re not here to waste it. You’re here for amusement. And that Crocodile can give you any time.

“Showdown”, the croupier called. “Please, bettors, show your hands.”

The woman sitting beside you sighed, showing two pairs. Two bettors had dropped out, choosing to wait until the next deal. You placed your cards on the table. 4, 3, K, 10, 10. One pair. “Does that mean anything?”

The first man to drop out chuckled. “Only that you lost.”

Lost in the way your smile spread across your face, the croupier had to remind Crocodile it was his time to show the cards. “Three of a kind”, he murmured. This time, he put no effort into acting as if he cared that he won. Crocodile just wanted to learn more about you. “Do you know the rules?”

“Does it really matter?”, your bright smile was enough to enlighten the whole place. As the croupier changed the card sets, you gave him your solely attention. “The best liar wins at the end.”

“No surprise you haven’t won yet”, Crocodile smirked. He spread his legs, cigar between his fingers. His golden hook glistened, reminding you of the threat he represented simply by breathing. “It’s so easy to see right through you.”

But not to see how I stole all those chips from you, was what you thought. “Seems like a failure of mine”, was what you said out loud.

With a movement of his hand, a waiter approached. Crocodile whispered into his ear; eyes still fixated on you. Intoxicated on his presence, you forgot to look away. What a tempting man. From then on, your glass never remained empty.

Deal after deal, you continued to lose just as Crocodile continued to win. Deal after deal, you continued to answer just as Crocodile continued to ask.

Until there were only you two left at the casino. You let go of your glass and closed the poker chip’s box, raising from the chair. “Should have expected a pirate to be a good gambler.” You took your coat, walking away from the table. “Have a good night, Crocodile.”

“One last deal?” Crocodile was quick to offer. Desperately, you would add. “And then we call it.”

You raised the empty box. “I have nothing left to bet.”

And at that, Crocodile saw his last chance of amusing you. “Then let’s bet everything we have.”

Sat down again, chin supported by your palm, you frowned. The wine had started to affect you both. “And by that you mean…”

“Everything”, Crocodile spread his legs, resting his hook on his thick thigh. You told yourself he was begging for you to stare, but you weren’t that sure of it. “Every chip on this table. Everything on our bodies.”

As he closed his mouth, a part of Crocodile feared his proposition would offend you. It doesn’t happen often, but there is a chance he misread your signals.

“I’ve been eyeing your rings since I sat here”, you wondered out loud. “Just as you been eyeing my dress.”

But to be so straight to the point… Crocodile wasn’t quite expecting that. It was what he wanted, but to see how you two were connected made harder for him to breath.

Then you sighed.

“As tempting as it is,” and you were standing again. Crocodile hated to see that. He would hate even more to see you leaving. “It is also getting late. Like I said, I’m new to this island.”

“You have nothing to fear”, Crocodile bargained. “Not when I’m around.”

“But you won’t be around on my way back to the hotel.”

“Then stay here”, he offered. You arched an eyebrow. “I don’t intent on letting you walk away that easily. I’m a pirate. I’m used to taking what I want for myself.”

For an eternity, you both stared into each other’s eyes. A silent negotiation. His final offering, your final chance of doing the right thing and walking away from danger. You could see his very soul. How it burned just beneath the surface. Crocodile felt the same heat coming from you.

The croupier forced a cough, remind you of his presence. It took much of his strength for Crocodile to not kill him right then and there.

“Shuffle the cards and leave”, you ordered.

He obeyed. Quickly. You both took a look at your cards sets. A smile died within you. A smirk grew on Crocodile’s face. The moment the croupier closed the exit door, Crocodile showed his hand.

Crocodile looked even bigger than he already was, filled with the confidence of a winner. “Four of a kind.”

Dropping your hand on the table, you were the winner he believed to be. “Royal flush”, you smiled. “Pretty sure that’s the highest since we’re not using any wild cards.”

Shock was a good look on Crocodile. After analyzing your cards, his gaze returned to you. “You said you didn’t know how to play.”

“Oh”, you drank the last sip from your glass. “Did I?”

And at your answer, all he could do was laugh. Crocodile ran his hand through his black hair. “You hustle me”, he whispered. Crocodile wasn’t able to get rid of this genuine smile.

Your laugh was real too. It made Crocodile breath in your scent, get drunk on the sweet sound coming from you. Not a bluff, not an act. It was real, and it only made you more beautiful. “And now you have a debt to pay.”

His face darkened, reminding you of who he is. You hustled Crocodile. You hustled Crocodile. You never thought of yourself as a stupid woman, but here you are. For fucks sake. Luffy really is rubbing on you.

Crocodile bended over the table, his broad shoulders creating a shadow over you. His hand grabbed your chair’s arm, his hook moving your chin upwards. A strand of hair fell in front of his orange eyes, and looking into them you felt like a powerless prey about to be ravished.

Face lurking inches above yours, Crocodile smiled devilish. A smile that made you forget about decency, focusing only on the promise of more of him. More of the man that wants to kill you. “Enjoy the show”, Crocodile whispered.

His blue scarf was the first to be throw away, and neither of you cared about where it would land. His long fingers worked on the buttons of the rumpled black-striped vest, so slowly you almost took it off of Crocodile by yourself.

The peach shirt beneath showed a portion of his wide chest and instead of finally getting rid of it, Crocodile held the leather belt around his waist.

He had so much fun teasing you, admiring how you couldn’t look away. A man as handsome must feel entitled to the silent praise. He really thought he was the one in charge, didn’t he? And for long enough, Crocodile was.

You’re a lot of things, but you’re not patient.

Leaning against the chair, you raised your leg. The silver heel brushed against his pants, from down on his ankle until the insides of his thigh. And when your painted nails shined right in front of his crotch, you forced your feet against it.

“Stop playing around.” Cocking your head, eyes explored his still covered up body. “Don’t make me wait.”

Crocodile grabbed your ankles, calloused hand stroking softly your skin. It wasn’t a rough touch, but not less possessive because of it. You put more pressure, making him groan. “You are insane.”

“And why is that?”

“Anyone else would fear me”, Crocodile’s voice reminded you of velvet and sharp knives. It lingered on your ears. “And here you are. Demanding more.”

You sighed, fingers brushing against your lips. That voice… it was your last straw. Fighting his hold, you put your foot down on the ground. You grabbed his shirt, pushing him back until Crocodile sat down on his chair again.

He opened his mouth as you sat down on his lap, but you gave him no time to do anything. “You talk too much.”

Holding the chair’s top rail as leverage, you dive into him. Tooth biting his lower lip, tongue forcing a passage into his warm mouth. Your free hand found a spot on his large neck, bringing Crocodile closer to you. Instead of waiting, you took what you wanted for yourself.

Just like a pirate would.

She isn’t fragile, Crocodile thought. She won’t break.

Sinking into you, Crocodile forgot about self-control. He simply ravished you, just like you demanded of him. A wild animal and nothing more. Exploring your mouth as if it was his to control, hand grabbing your soft skin without a care about finesse or decorum. Crocodile pressed his hook against your chest, enjoying how it didn’t stop you from moving as you wanted to.

You got him out of that stupidly tight shirt, hands scratching his chest as your hips moved on top of his crotch. He forced you down, putting your whole weight upon himself, and ripped your emerald dress into pieces with his hook.

“You’ll pay for this one.”

It was a complain, but your fingers working to unbutton his pants made clear you couldn’t care less. His kisses travelled to your neck, tongue leaving a trail of drool on your shoulder, mouth closing against your nipples. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, encouraging Crocodile to continue.

“I will get you anything you want”, he said, voice muffled. He couldn’t get away from your body to speak. “You burn hotter than the fuckin desert.”

No shame, no hesitation. Freed from his pants, you licked your palm before grabbing his cock. You pumped him with zero delicacy, thumb pressing against the dark, sensitive head. Just like everything in Crocodile, it was big enough to make you wonder.

As if he could read you mind, Crocodile slid his hand into your panties. Long fingers explored your lips, precise with every movement. Thumb pressing against your clit, two fingers against your wet slit. His hook brushed against your thigh, arm locking around you to press you down on his fingers.

Your loud moan embarrassed your very soul, but all Crocodile did was laugh. His teeth closed around your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. That’ll mark you for sure. “Ride me, hon’.”

With your nails deep into his back, you stretched yourself on Crocodile’s fingers. You bit his earlobe, brushing your face against his as you speed up your movements. In your hand, his cock throbbed. Crocodile was leaking, burning in the same way you do.

“Take what you want”, you whispered against his ear. “Fuck me already.”

It happened so quickly, you barely understood how he moved. A second before you were on his lap, two fingers deep into your hungry cunt, lips around his ear. Then you were sat on the table, poker chips falling on the floor, Crocodile standing between your legs.

A fucking monster.

Crocodile took his drenched fingers from you, and wasted no time before sucking them clean. He grabbed your thighs, exposing yourself from him. “She’s delicious”, Crocodile stared at your pussy. His fingers pulled your lips apart. “Will get me addicted to her.”

Using your legs, you got him even closer to you. Crocodile grabbed your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss. Fighting against your tongue, he fit the head of his cock into you. You moaned into his mouth.

Moving your heels against his thighs, you forced him inside of you. A stupid decision. Your head collapsed against his shoulder, the entirety of his length touching all the right places. So good, so right, so… much.

Crocodile wasn’t in that much of a better situation. Eyes closes tightly, lips hanging open as a deep cry escaped. So wet, so warm. Moving slowly, Crocodile chortled. He had no control over his mind anymore.

“Don’t you dare stopping”, you manage to say. “Just… fu-fuck, just like that.”

Deep thrusts as his fingers worked on your clit: Crocodile wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than you wanted. He could feel your drool gathering on his shoulder. How your fingers were deep into his forearms, or how the hold of your legs around his waist weakened.

All Crocodile wanted was to make you as addicted to him as he already was to you. To get you to scream his name, begging for more and more. He wanted you to take from him. To get what you wanted. And Crocodile wanted everything you could give him.

Feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, mind empty as a white canvas, you tilted your head back. Eyes half-open, you admired him. His raw lips, face covered in sweat. Marks of lipstick all over his chest, just as deep nail marks and surface scratched. You looked down, watching as he entered you.

“You are worth way more than eighty million.”

Crocodiled bended, tongue playing with your aching nipple. “After my head, hon’?”, he sucked on them. You stroked his hair, enjoying how primal Crocodile looked.

“Do I look insane?”, you moaned.

Crocodile looked into your eyes, face near yours. You placed your arms around his shoulders, but he held you in place. Crocodile simply looked at you. As if there was something new, something he never saw before.

“You do”, Crocodile whispered. It felt so intimate. For a moment, you weren’t being fucked in an empty casino. For a moment, you two were sharing a secret. “You’re perfect.”

You melted against him. Lost on your orgasm, you unlearned how to breath. The fact you couldn’t think didn’t stop Crocodile from kissing you. As you closed around him, Crocodile reached his limit. Tooth deep into your throat, he marked you again.

Tears formed behind your eyes, throat aching as you finally breathed again. You laid your head on his chest, feeling it rising with his unregulated breathes. A firm hand held your waist, his nose stopped in the union of your shoulder and neck. His biting hurt so good, just like your scratches on his skin.

When Crocodile opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand holding onto the table. He looked at the fours rings you said caught your attention. And he saw how there was only one finger lacking a ring.

Insane, Crocodile thought. She’s making me insane.

As his hips moved away, a cry left your throat as he emptied your pussy, your legs finally stopped working. Crocodile took his cigar from the ashtray, smoking it for a few seconds. When he released the smoke, you grabbed his chin and made him face you. Inhaling it, you closed your eyes.

Not a second after you let it go, his hand and hook slid beneath your thighs. Effortlessly, Crocodile took you from the table. Your shaken legs closed around his waist as he carried you. “What you doing?”

Crocodile finally looked into your eyes again. He smiled, and it was genuinely. “Taking what I want for myself.”

taglist: @ffinosie @lovelyy-moonlight @alzaira @s2-angells @eyes-ofhell @inlovewithmariah @chiiyohiimee @shaquilles-0atmeal @bloodyziggy @salemey @kcch-ns @notanalienindisguiseblink

© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

[gamesetart]

sweet 'n easy

Art thought dating you would be enough. He's content to have your heart, wait until marriage to have your body, too. But it's proving really difficult when you look like that.

tags: art donaldson x fem! reader, open relationship, guided masterbation, reader's kind of messy in this one (corruption), religious themes/corruption of religious themes. nsfw. minors DNI.

a/n: this is part of what im referring to as the open relationship au and im more than expecting to write more about this dynamic! im also very open to suggestions about it

Art Donaldson is a Good Christian Boy. He's a good, smart young man. He wears his thin silver purity ring on his left ring finger. He wears a delicate silver cross on a chain around his neck. He used to sing in the church choir, and now he spends his Sundays volunteering with the children's sector and frequenting church picnics. If it wasn't for tennis, he'd probably be a priest.

You're not right for him, and he knows it. Guys like him aren't made to marry girls like you - girls with low-cut tops that show off the top hem of your lacy electric purple bra. Girls who wear low, low-cut jeans with your matching purple thong hanging out the back. Girls with butterfly-shaped tattoos hovering on your lower back. Girls who spend weekends drinking and clubbing and dancing with absolutely no room for Jesus.

But there's just something about you. Maybe it's your attitude, the way your hand flies up in class whenever you know the answer to a question, the way you speak, with such clarity, such conviction. Maybe it's the way you walk with your friends across campus, beautiful and assertive, a pack of wild hounds. You're terrifying to him. A force of nature, a thunderstorm. Art's managed to get caught up in your jet stream, but it doesn't mean he's any less scared of falling out. You and all your hot, brash, party-girl friends. You and the 'bitch pack', as some of his friends have taken to calling you and yours. The sorority girl, frat party, dim clubs, bitch pack. Girls like you don't give guys like him the time of day: you're too pretty, too powerful, far too high up on an entirely different social ladder.

But you're different. You're sweet. He's watched you stop to pet stray kittens. He's seen you volunteering to donate blood at the campus blood drives. He's seen you stop to help a girl pick up her books even though you were already late to class. He's seen your notes in his biology lecture, your cute, bubbled handwriting and your array of gel pens. He's seen you buy an extra coffee at the campus cafe for a friend. People contain multitudes, or whatever, right?

So maybe it's no surprise when you end up paired up on an assignment and you bring him back to your dorm room. Maybe he shouldn't have been so stunned by the boy band posters and the stacks of fantasy novels and the stuffed bear sitting on your bed. Maybe he shouldn't have been thrown off by your framed pictures - family, friends - and your collection of Beatles CDs. Just a girl. A normal, nice girl. Who lays out all her notes for him, glances up with a sweet smile, and asks,

"Where d'you wanna start?"

He didn't mean for it to go any further than that. For the study visits to start happening at night, after dinner. For you to start blowing off club nights to curl up on your plush blue shag carpet next to art, pointing out lines of text and highlighting things with a bright pink marker. For you to start eating with him at lunch, talking about your lecture, laughing over some stupid thing your professor said or did. For him to start seeing you, really seeing you, and liking that you saw him, too. It happened before he even registered it. Somewhere, somehow, Art Donaldson fell in love.

It's different than how he felt with Tashi. This isn't that painful, all-consuming desire to please, to have her notice him, the obsession with the idea of her and her tennis. This feels sweeter, kinder. This feels like what he used to read about: fireworks in his heartbeat, butterflies in his stomach, the giddy thrill of First Love. A slower, ennobling sort of love.

If he had it his way, he'd date you. Flowers. Expensive dinners by candlelight. Picnics. The works. Court you for the four years you were at Stanford together, then propose once you graduated. Spend a few years engaged so he could do his tennis, make a good amount of his own money. Save until he could plan a dream wedding. Honeymoon somewhere pretty and exotic, like Bali or Punta Cana. Then the country house and the kids, the white picket fence. Except, Art doesn't really ever get things his way, does he?

"I... I don't know," you say slowly, digging your heels into your carpet. You can't meet his sad blue eyes. You can't bear to. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. It feels alien, even in your head.

He stares at you, crestfallen. Your heart plummets and you race for an explanation, for some way to explain this without blaming him. Because it's not Art at fault, it's his Faith.

"It's not that I don't like you!" you scramble. "I do, really, Art, I do. I just... a girl has... needs, you know? There are things I'd want that I can't ask you to give me. Things I can't take from you."

You both know what it is. You'd never ask him to give up on or waver in his faith for you. Never. You like Art how he is. But you know you'd be wanting. You know you can't wait until your wedding night.

"I... I'm just not the dating type, Art," you explain mournfully. "And you don't want to date a girl like me, anyway, trust me. You deserve someone nice."

"But... you are nice," Art says, and he really does look like you've just torn his heart out and stomped on it. It's horrible. It's awful. And you feel like a monster for doing it, but what can you do?

He doesn't have a solution until a full week later. He pretends (to you, and himself) that he came up with it all on his own, when in reality it was Patrick's idea. Patrick's suggestion, murmured over the phone in cloying low tones, luring him in like sailor to siren, bee to honey, moth to flame. Art, for all his cleverness, for all his ability to read Patrick like a book, could not see it. He trusted Patrick. He should have, he's sent Patrick some of your pictures, talked about you endlessly. But Patrick was on tour, far, far away, where he could do no harm. And Patrick was taken, as he was so keen to remind Art all the time.

"She doesn't have to fuck you, man," Patrick muses. "Date her. Be her good boy, be her fuckin' sweetheart. She can get dicked down with someone else."

"You're suggesting my girlfriend cheat on me?" Art laughs, and even saying it, my girlfriend, even in hypothetical, makes his heart do a flip.

He can practically picture Patrick's face, screwed up with a mixture of pity and disdain. Poor Art. "Nah, man. I'm suggesting an open relationship, you know? Let her fuck who she wants, she's gonna come home to you."

The conviction in Patrick's voice makes Art's heart somersault. Because there's something about that idea that makes his pulse quicken. Patrick's right. You'll come home to him, your heart - the thing that really matters - will be his. He doesn't like the possessive thing that curls up in his chest and purrs at the idea. But he doesn't fight it.

"What if you didn't have to wait with me?" Art asks.

He's twirling a highlighter over his fingers. Cross-legged on your plush duvet, working at a piece of spearmint chewing gum. Gum you'd offered him, gum that you now kept a small stash of in your desk drawer for evenings just like this. The project you'd been paired up on was long over, the proud 96% sitting in your Stanford grading inbox. Now you're just regular homework buddies. Art sought you out for homework he missed because he was at practice and lecture notes he didn't get. You don't mind. You enjoy it, actually. You just wish you could give him more. Hate that you couldn't be what he deserved. It almost feels like leading him on, when he sits with you until the wee hours, sharing diagrams and passing your textbook back and forth. When he brings you your morning coffee before class, or you bring sandwiches and Gatorade to his practices.

Except now, apparently, he has a solution.

"What?" you ask, blinking at him. "What d'you mean?"

Art flushes. Soft pink. Mostly around the ears, you've noticed, red against the gentle gold of his curls. Evening rose.

"I mean, what if..." he looks away. "You know. You went out with me. Dated me. But you could... 'hook up' with other people when you needed to."

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. Art Donaldson. Is sitting on your bed, asking you for an open relationship? Are you dreaming? Has the world suddenly gone mad? Did you go to bed last night and wake up in an alternate dimesion?

"You... are you suggesting... what I think you're suggesting?" you ask faintly.

He nods, ears burning a truly impressive shade of crimson. You suppose you should be flattered, really, the lengths he's going to date you. Most guys would have given up by now, egos bruised, feelings hurt, hearts shattered. And with most guys, you would have been firmer, clearer, colder. Meaner. But Art isn't most guys. Art is sweet.

"I-- shit, Art, wouldn't you rather just date some other girl like you?" you say helplessly.

"I don't want another girl, I want you," he replies plainly. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like there's no other answer.

And that's all it takes for you to agree. It's impossible to say no to those baby doll eyes. The two of you set ground rules - you don't tell him who or where or how, just that it happened. He doesn't ask you any questions. No one leaves you any marks. Immediate friends, such as Art's tennis circle and his church friends, are off limits. And that's that. He's your boyfriend now.

Art thought it would suffice. He likes being with you. Holding your hand while you walk to class. Seeing you in the stands when he plays a match. Chaste little pecks here and there. But you're like a pit of quicksand, a hurricane. You draw him in quicker than he thought possible, and now he can't breathe, can't think, can't move. The corruption is slow, certain, and inescapable.

He starts to find himself wanting more.

A kiss in his dorm room that deepens instead of stops, one hand cupping your jaw, the other floating to rest on the small of your back, above the waist of your low jeans, on the warm, bare skin there. A glance that feels more than affectionate, his eyes roving over your collarbone, the glint of your skin in the sun, the line of your bra beneath your sheer, tight shirt. He sees you smile at another guy and a hot flash of jealousy surges through him as he wonders if this is one of the guys you're fucking, if that guy, that random piece of shit, gets to touch you, see you, feel you. He tamps it down, and it feels too little, too late.

You'd be a fool not to notice. Stupid, not to feel the press of his hard-on when he hugs you from behind. Not to sense the shift in the way he kisses you, tongue slipping past your lips, hands sliding down further than they usually do. He plays it off, always. An accident. The heat of the moment. But you know. And because you're weak, because you're a terrible person, because ruining Art Donaldson is the most beautiful thing to ever happen to you, you let him.

"Art, do you ever touch yourself?"

He falls off his chair in his hurry to spin around and look at you. From the floor of your dorm, he stares with wide blue eyes and pink cheeks. "Wha--"

You shrug. "You know. Do you ever..." you make a crude gesture with your hand, and he buries his face up to his nose in his collar.

"No," he says, muffled into his tee shirt. "It's sinful."

It takes every fibre of your being not to laugh. He's so precious, so pure, sometimes you wonder why a guy like him could ever be interested in you at all. Your looks are one thing - you know you're hot. But Art likes you. He likes you even when he can't fuck you. He liked you even when you told him you wouldn't date him. He likes you because you're you. Which makes you feel a little shitty about what you do next, but you can't help it.

"So, what, when you're hard, what do you do?" you press casually. "Send up a Hail Mary and wait?"

Art's ears, which peek out over his shirt collar, are so red they could have been on fire. He shakes his head, a little frantically. He flushes easily, you notice, blood flowing quickly whenever he's even mildly embarrassed. It conjures images of his cock, whatever it might look like, red and aching with need. And you feel a lot less bad, the mental image of Art's dick fuelling the way you lean over, sliding off your chair to join him on the floor. You kneel, hands resting on your knees, and you know he's getting an eyeful of your tits. You keep your eyes on his face.

"Show me," you murmur. "I won't touch you. I won't even touch myself. I just wanna see."

He stares at you like you've asked him for his social security number and all his credit card info. Which, honestly, he probably would have given up a little easier. And you're an awful person, because you know the effect you've had on him, especially these days, you know that Art will probably do anything you ask of him, just for the pleasure of pleasing you.

"Please?" you wheedle, cocking your head to one side lightly, staring up at him through your lashes.

And, really, how could he say no to that?

"I-- okay," he says, and he tries to pretend like he's relenting a lot more than he actually is. Pretends like he's doing you a huge favour, as if his cock isn't straining at the mere idea.

Art doesn't jerk off often. He's only ever used his hand once - the single time Patrick showed him. After that, he'd cried in the bathroom and washed his hands so many times he got a contact allergy. But he's figured out an alternative. One that doesn't involve him touching himself at all. So he slides off his sweats, all too aware of your steady eyes on him. You look at him like you've never seen legs before, as if you haven't seen him at a thousand practices. You look at him like you want to eat him.

He tries to tell himself that's not what's making his cock throb in his boxers. He keeps those on, more for his sake than yours.

"You can lie on my bed," you offer innocently.

Art almost moans. Because it's your bed. Because it's yours, and when he lies down it's almost like lying with you. When he buries his face in the pillow, he can smell you, your vanilla and roses body wash, and, beneath it, the gentle smell of you. It's your sheets he starts to cant into, hips rolling in a familiar motion as he starts to work away the desperate pressure in his cock. It's your pillow he bites in a futile attempt to muffle his moans. And when he looks up, eyes half-lidded, he can see you watching him. You're biting your lip, looking flustered, and it's the cutest he's ever seen you, and he moans your name without meaning you.

You keep your promise, hands folded neatly in you lap as you watch Art rut into your bed like a wild animal, like he's in fucking heat, like your sheets are a person and he's fucking it. Like your sheets are you, you realise, as his eyes meet yours and he whines your name. He's pretending he's fucking you. It's hard not to give up and shove one hand into your panties, but for his sake, you try. Art's moans are almost musical, and with a sharp slap of embarrassment, you're reminded of the sounds he makes when he hits the ball at practice. The same whining grunts of exertion, except now they're fuelled by pleasure, spurred on by the desperate grind of his hips into your sheets, not a fucking tennis ball.

"Oh, oh, fuck," Art's voice gets a little higher. "Oh, fuck, it's so good--"

You can feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you shift slightly. His movements grow a little more erratic, hands balling up into white-knuckled fists into the soft fabric of your sheets. You drink it all in while you can - his ears are red, his cheeks are pink. You follow the curve of his ass in his boxers. You stare at the muscles in his thighs. The bones of his hips.

Art gets breathy when he's about to cum. Breathy, very whiny, almost crying if you're being honest. You file that information away for later.

"Please, please, can I?" he gasps, staring up at you with pupils blown wide with lust. "Can I cum, please, fuck, need it, need it-- you-- fuck, please?"

It's surprising he can even string together a full sentence. "Of course, baby," you murmur, already resolved to not changing your sheets until after you've cum in them too.

Another nugget of information: Art favours a deep grind when he cums, like he's looking for a place to put it, to bury it, looking to breed, to mark, to keep. The sight of him pushing his hips as far into your mattress as he can before he cums, a cry of your name and a shuddering breath slipping from his lips, will probably fuel your nighttime ventures for the next few weeks. You'll use it when you find your next hook up, it'll probably send you right over the edge.

You don't know when you started thinking of Art while you fucked other guys. You just know that now, it's tricky to get off without it. It's hard enough biting your tongue so you avoid saying his name. Now, you'll have the image of his face when he cums locked in your brain forever.

"Shit," Art curses, still breathless, sitting up to examine the sticky mess soaking from the front of his gingham boxers, all the way into your sheets. "Sorry."

You just shake your head. "Don't worry about it. That was... really hot. That's actually how you get yourself off?"

He nods, embarrassed. When he shuffles off to shower, borrowing your shower caddy and a towel, you wait until your door click, and then you practically rip open your nightstand. It takes less than ten minutes with a vibrator and the memory of Art's voice moaning your name for you to add your cum to his. You imagine his hips fucking into you, not your sheets. You imagine pulling his stupid fucking purity ring off and wearing it like some fucked-up engagement ring. His hands are so big, you'd probably have to wear it on your thumb. His hands. You imagine them grabbing you, holding you, sliding up your skin. You wonder what it would be like to have him revere you, not his God. Worship you. You want him to, you think. The idea of him shattering every promise he's ever made, just to be inside you? It sends you over the edge with a muffled cry of his name.

It's that feeling, that messy need for him, that drives you to that frat party. You told him, obviously, and while he seemed sort of put-off when you mentioned you were probably going to sleep with someone, he told you it was okay. Told you to be safe.

You wish you could tell him, but you're worried it'll scare him off. Don't worry, Art, every guy I fuck, I pretend he's you. And now I'll have the knowledge of exactly what you look and sound like when you cum to help me out! Not exactly girlfriend material.

Still, you're thinking of Art when your eyes land on a boy playing beer pong. He's tall, all messy black curls and tanned skin. Handsome, too, if you're being honest, in a messy, frat boy-y kind of way. Hook up hot. You're thinking of Art when he waves you over, holding up a beer like it's a peace offering. You're thinking of Art when you give him your name and ask for his.

"Patrick," he tells you easily. "Patrick Zweig."

[maxv331]

✮ What happened to hello | Lando Norris ✮

Summary: Quick little drabbled based on all the speculation of Lando getting a bad haircut because he wore his hat so much at the Mexican GP

Warning: none :)

word count: 848

a/n: I haven't wrote in a long time so I'm pretty rusty, go easy on me! I also wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to wrap up the ending, so yeah, sorry for that!

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

“Take the hat off Lando” You playfully demand with a squint of your eyes as soon as Lando’s face appears on your laptop screen. 

You’re currently on day 14 of being apart since Lando left for the triple-header and it’s eating you both alive. You haven’t been apart for longer than seven days at a time, in almost a year. Everyone around you, even the fans, call you two codependent, but really, you were just in love and wanted to spend as much time together as possible. 

Between the time zone differences and you both working so much, you’ve found it difficult to spend much time together. You’ve found comfort in being able to keep up with Lando from all of the fan and official F1 content posted online. 

You’ve gotten a giggle out of all the speculation surrounding Lando’s hair. It started on the first media day in Mexico, when it appeared Lando had gotten a haircut, but his hat stayed on the entire day. 

The next day was when the rumors actually started, Lando hadn’t taken his hat off again and every fan you came across was freaking out and cracking jokes that Lando got a bad haircut and was embarrassed about it. 

Initially, aside from enjoying all the posts, you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming Lando was mostly wearing the hat because of the heat; but then you realized Lando hadn’t sent you any photos without the hat on, and the handful of late night facetimes you had, he was already in bed with his hoodie up and it was mostly dark. 

Whenever you and Lando are apart, you always made sure to keep each other still included in the day to day parts of your lives; you were always sending photos, videos and voice notes until you could facetime or be with each other again. 

Lando hadn’t changed your familiar routine, he just never had hair showing, which was a little odd, but nothing concerning. You admittingly missed the post shower selfies or the sweaty, messy haired, tired post race selfies. 

You’re instantly met with a giggle from Lando “What happened to hello baby.” Lando’s sat in his drivers room, he’d got a couple hours break between practice and qualifying and wanted to make the most of your shared free time to squeeze in a quick facetime with you.

“Hello baby” You grinned cheekily. “I’ve missed you so much, did you get a bad haircut?” You giggled 

Lando raised an eyebrow as another giggle slipped past his lips. “Did I get a bad haircut?” 

You nodded quickly “You haven’t taken your hat off the entire time you’ve been in Mexico, so show me”

“And how would you know that, hmm?” Lando asked with a smirk. Lando was initially confused, but now all he wanted was to play into the fun he was having. 

A bright rosy blush crept up your cheeks as you briefly glanced away from Lando on the screen. Lando’s now grinning mischievously, enjoying getting to tease you. “Do I need to talk to Osc or have you been creeping on me?” 

Before you even get a chance to answer, Lando starts giggling again and shaking his head. You pout and cross your arms. “A bad haircut is the only explanation for the hat and not getting my selfies”

“Your selfies?” Lando questions, once again raising an eyebrow. He knows exactly what selfies you’re talking about, but one thing about Lando Norris is that he loves to tease his girlfriend.

“I want my post race selfies back Lando” 

Lando smiles widely, taking a moment to take in all of your soft sweet features. Lando hadn’t intentionally been keeping anything from you, the few days he had been in Mexico had been busier than usual and it slipped his mind. “I’m sorry my love, I promise you’ll get one after quali”

“I better” You murmur, arms still crossed against your chest. You did miss the selfies, but you weren’t actually annoyed with him, in fact any feelings that even remotely resembled annoyance or hurt from the past few days all stem from a place of missing Lando. 

Lando knows you better than you know yourself, so he knows that if he doesn’t do something in the next few minutes, the call is going to take a sharp turn from playful and fun to somber and probably leave at least one of you in tears. Neither you or Lando were one to shy away from your emotions, but if Lando could hold off on it, until he could guarantee you his undivided love and attention, that's what he’s going to do. 

Lando winks at you, before taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. “Is that better my love?”

A small gasp passes your lips, before you break out into the widest smile that Lando had seen in weeks. “Lando!” You squeal happily. “You look so handsome, why have you been hiding your hair?”

“I haven’t been hiding my hair, you doughnut,” Lando laughed. “It’s hot and I like my hat”

[sanguinesmi1e]

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 (you're here)

Full fic on Ao3

Art of LBM

Pt. 4: An Unexp-ectoed Party (not on Ao3 yet)

Constantine was quietly freaking out. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that the ghost who had turned itself into a cute little tatzelwurm to avoid answering questions might be something far beyond his capabilities to deal with. Everything it said and did suggested it was way outside his scope of experience. While Tim used a shoelace to play with it like a rambunctious kitten, John mentally catalogued the things that threatened to give him a panic attack:

Before the ghost even arrived, the blinding power flowing through his spell array nearly knocked him flat. It had felt like being swatted in the eyeballs by an eldritch god.

The ghost appeared in human form, fully alive, before being transformed by the summoning magic. John had only ever heard whispers of legends about a being who could do such a thing. The legends were vague and grandiose, but some epithets included The One Who Walks Between, He Who Straddles Life and Death, Twilight Walker, Shroud Danger Child, and The Halver. 

The ghost could not only see his soul at a glance, it could perceive all the damage he had done making deals with demons.

The ghost implied it was on casual, friendly terms with the Ancient of Time aka Chronos, Kala, Father Time, etc. And that it had altered the timeline at least once already.

It could age. Despite what the ghost said, only Neverborn should be able to age. The dead were static, and given the death that he could feel sustaining the portal, this ghost had definitely died.

It was brilliant enough to pinpoint a weakness and successfully distract Tim by transforming into a shape that could manipulate his protective instincts. John did not want to admit that he also felt protective of the cute little blighter.

It had hopped out of the summoning circle as if it were just chalk scribbles, despite John working in some of his most powerful containment spells as a matter of what he had thought was excessive precaution.

Shite, the list had already reached seven items. The tatzelwurm (had Drake really just named the thing Little Baby Man?) glared at him and called him “Gross!” 

“Seriously!? This cloaking spell should be more than sufficient.” John grumbled. “Did it really have no effect?” If so, that was gonna be item number eight.

Little Baby Man tilted his head. “It worked.” Then he huffed with amusement. 

Thank fuck for small blessings. 

A quickly muttered spell turned his burning cigarette into a makeshift sort of laser pointer, and Constantine distracted Little Baby Man while he tried to think of what to do next.

“Hey kid, this is a problem.” He kept his voice low, and watched to see if the tatzelwurm appeared to pay any attention to him. It dedicated all its attention to the glowing dot, and ignored the two men.

“I assume this isn’t the normal direction your interrogations go.” Drake wound his shoelace around his hand and pocketed it. “It’s certainly a first for me.”

“Ditto, in so many ways.”

“Any idea what to do now?”

“We should probably return him where he came from, and wait for Zatanna to get back from wherever she’s disappeared to now.” John would really like a second opinion. He would also like to dump this mess in someone else’s lap and be on his way. 

Although to be fair, watching the tatzelwurm careen around after his lazer dot was actually pretty fun. Not that he’d ever admit it. Still, the creature was done answering questions and John wasn’t prepared to bind the thing because he didn’t think he’d need to pack the tools to bind an eldritch god when Batman called him to do a “quick consult.”

Danny couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun. The CEO person played with him! He did feel a bit bad for hurting his foot, but it was difficult to dwell on regrets or worries when he could attack the string instead. And now there was a red dot to chase! It was very fast and sneaky, but he was faster and sneakier.

Is this what Paulina felt like when she wished herself to be a giant chibi version of herself to be loved and worshipped by everyone? Because he felt adorable. And fierce. He was going to kill that red dot so hard when he finally sunk his claws in it!

Frustratingly, it seemed to also have intangibility powers. Well, Danny knew what to do about that! He concentrated ectoplasm into his paw and bapped it down hard on the dot. This scorched the floor a bit, but when he lifted his paw, the red dot was skewered on one of his claws. It tried to tug away, but he clung tight. Apparently its size belied its strength, because it started to drag him across the floor. 

Danny tried to release the dot, but his claw was firmly snagged, so he resigned himself to being dragged back into the chalk circle. He tingled a bit as he crossed the perimeter, but it wasn’t a bad sensation, just a little odd. Then a portal opened up and pulled him through the water filled tube snake toy sensation in reverse and ugh! Just as bad the second time, if not worse.

The spell spat him out in human form under the Specter Speeder. Or rather, it ejected him at speed so he smacked into the bottom of the Speeder before falling back to the ground with a heavy thud. Thankfully he didn’t crack his head against the concrete, but he still couldn’t stifle a pained groan.

A firm hand wrapped around Danny’s ankle and dragged him out, and he found himself staring up at Drake and Constantine for the third time that day.

“Uh, hi,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

Being able to create ghost portals would come in real handy right about now. Maybe he should just commit some arson and let these two deal with escaping the basement on their own.

[eufezco]

IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE BABY — FINNICKODAIR x FEM!READER

IN WHICH Finnick is interviewed by Caesar.

Caesar Flickerman greeted Finnick. Everyone in the audience stood up from their seats when he entered the stage, men chanted his name and women shouted for his attention. ―Thank you, thank you so much. ―Finnick smiled and waved to everyone in the audience who had welcomed him so warmly. He was especially handsome that night. The white shirt that your stylist had put on him had a large opening in the front that went down to almost his belly button, somewhat revealing for the Capitol but not vulgar at all. The bottom part of his outfit was a skirt that reached his ankles and the necklaces made with materials from your district rested on his neck.

From your place backstage you could appreciate how Finnick's green eyes shone under the spotlights. They also had that lovely glow when he saw you arrive at the back of the stage with your outfit. He wanted to tell you how pretty you looked, he wanted to help you relax before going on stage with Caesar. Finnick knew how uncomfortable those questions, often more private than they should be, made you. But it had been days since the last time you talked to him and you didn't have a Capitol camera on you, and that didn't seem to be the moment when you were going to speak to him again.

You had taken the opportunity to look him up and down when he was not aware of your presence. When his eyes fell on you, you acted unbothered, with a serious face and not paying attention to him for even a second. He was by your side with his hands behind his back minutes before he went onto the stage, you were paying attention to the tributes being interviewed but Finnick was looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

―You look great. ―Finnick dared to say. He didn't receive an answer from you, not even a look of disdain or a grimace. He pressed his lips together, defeated, and stretched the muscles in his back as the host introduced him.

You stayed backstage, watching him with your arms crossed and with still no expression on your face. The trip to the Capitol had been tense. Very tense on your part. Your hostile attitude hadn't made things easy for Finnick, your mentor Mags, and even yourself. From the instant your names came out through your stay at the tribute's hotel up to that moment, you had been avoiding Finnick. Mags had tried to bring you back to him, but you were pissed off. Pissed off with the Capitol for putting you in that arena with the love of your life, with Finnick for pretending that everything was okay, and with yourself for not letting them kill you in your first games.

You looked over your shoulder when a girl covered in white fabric appeared in your visual field. She came closer to you, accompanied by Effie who was constantly arranging her dress, and you rolled your eyes. ―A wedding dress. Of course. ―You pointed out loud enough for the girl to hear you.

You and that girl liked each other. Very similar personalities, highly challenging to the Capitol, difficult to contain for President Snow. You wouldn't say you two had a friendship but your encounters during training definitely could have been the beginning of one if you were not just a few days away from fighting for your lives in the games. Again.

―Snow made me wear it. ―Katniss confessed.

You looked up and down at her and nodded.― Make him pay for it.

―Finnick, it is an honor to have you here with us tonight. ― They both sat and Caesar grabbed both FInnick's hands, shaking them. The smile remained on Finnick's lips. ―We thought we would never have you back but we're so glad that we get to see you once again. Let's show some love to Finnick Odair, ladies and gentlemen!

At that moment the people in the audience applauded and shouted for him again. Your eyes were still focused on your partner, the boy was very relaxed, grateful for all the affection he was receiving from the people of the Capitol. Gosh, he was so good at pretending. At that moment your dress started to feel too tight and your stomach grumbled; was it because of the crappy food you'd been at the Capitol? Because of how tight was the dress around your body? Or was it because of how disgusted you felt with the person Finnick became when a Capitol camera focused on him? Even if you knew he was faking it, you didn't like seeing him like that.

―The pleasure is always mine, Caesar.

―Finnick, we saw that dramatic reaping day that took place on District 4 and I think I speak for everyone when I say that we lived it very intensely. ―Murmurs could be heard in the audience agreeing with the host. Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. ―First, your name comes out, ten years after your first victory, and then her name comes out and we can see how your expression changes completely. Look, look at that. ―The images from that day played on the big screens for the people to watch and you had to look away.

You swallowed and tensed your back, all the memories of that day came to your head unwantedly. His name. Your heart feeling heavy inside your chest. Him walking to the center of the stage with a smile on his lips. His eyes on you telling you to not worry. Your name. Gasps from the people of District 4. Finnick's jaw clenching. It became difficult for him to breathe. You walking to the center of the stage next to him with no smile on your lips. You shook hands. People clapped for you two.

―Are you okay? ―Katniss placed her hand on one of your shoulders and you nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing.

―People in District 4 love drama. ―A familiar voice said behind you two. The girl in her tree and wood-inspired outfit approached you and Katniss with a devilish smile on her lips. ―It's already done, girl. Your name came out already and you are here. Get yourself together. Snow is watching, don't embarrass yourself like this.

The relationship you had with Johanna Mason was complicated. You did consider her somewhat of a friend but sometimes she was too much. Finnick definitely knew how to deal with her better than you.

―We have been informed that she has expressly asked not to be here with you tonight, how does that make you feel?

―Well, it makes me feel sad, obviously. As everybody knows, she is a very special person to me and I think we could handle this situation much better together. Things have been difficult but I strongly believe we are the best allies, in and out of the arena. The love I have for her keeps me from having any negative feelings about her not wanting to sit with me here tonight, Caesar. I just hope that you all can enjoy her later.

―I'm sure we will have the best time with her. She's lovely, very lovely. ―People clapped. They loved Finnick. You could see it on their faces every time the boy opened his mouth, how they nodded their heads to everything he said, empathizing with him. In a way you were grateful for it, when the time came you knew they would rather save him. ―As you said, she'll be sitting here later and we know she's back there now, probably watching us and waiting for her moment. Finnick, is there anything you'd like to say to her?

Finnick nodded and acted for a few seconds as if he was looking for the words. As if he hadn't had this planned. ―My love, you have my heart. All eternity. And if I― if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.

―Oh, Finnick! You're going to make our hearts melt! When did you became such a loverboy?

―I've always been, Caesar.

They all laughed.

Johanna giggled and you ran your hand over your face. Maybe Johanna was right and the people of District Four were too dramatic. Katniss was left speechless, he and his ability to make those things sound natural surprised her. He reminded her of Peeta.

―Forgive me but I must ask because I know people are dying to know. Is everything okay between you two? Has the Quarter Quell been the cause of any couple crises?

People in the audience laughed again and so did Finnick. He didn't find it funny but laughed anyway which made you angrier.―No, that has not happened, no. We have had our ups and downs since that day, as you said, there have been a lot of emotions going on. We had plans for the future but we are trying to get through it.

―I'm sorry, Finnick, but you can't leave us like this. Plans for the future? Tell us more about that.

―We were trying for a baby.

That statement hit you like a big wave and swept you breathlessly to the seashore. You heard Johanna chuckling and Katniss, on the other hand, was as surprised and as confused as you were. People in the audience got up from their seats, demanding more information, asking if there was a wedding planned, and questioning if you were already pregnant.

―No we weren't. ―You mumbled getting the attention of the two girls who were with you. ―¡No we weren't! ― You tried to go on stage, angry like the sea during a storm and about to do something foolish that you would regret later and for which Mags would tell you off. Johanna was quick to step in front of you to prevent that from happening. Effie let out a little scream, seeing the scandal that was being made.

―Johanna, move.

The girl shook her head at you, smirking. That smirk. She knew all along.

―I'm not asking, Johanna. Move.

Johanna, again, shook her head at you.

―¡Ladies! Let's mind our manners and let's calm down. Please. ―Effie intervened, aware that there were people from the Capitol backstage watching. Katniss was behind you, silently rooting for Johanna to let you out.

―He knows Snow is not canceling the games. He's saving you.

―I do not need him to save me. I do not want him to save me. If I have come all this way, it is to save him.

Johanna smiled, mocking you. ―Well, he has gone ahead of you.

―What's going on? ―Peeta appeared and Effie jumped on his neck to fix the white suit he was wearing.

―She's pregnant. ―Johanna answered him.

―I'm not.

―Congratulations. ―The boy from District 12 told you sincerely.

―¡I'm not pregnant!

Seeing that people in the audience were not calming down after Finnick's news, Caesar mumbled something in the boy's ear. Unlike the rest of the tributes who had already been interviewed and who remained on the stage, Finnick was sent to the back of it.

―Girl from 4, you're next. ―A man from the staff announced and grabbed your arm. Caesar was distracting the audience while they got you ready to go out.

―Get off of me. I'm not going anywhere. ―You shook your body and managed to free yourself from the grip that was eager to push you on stage. You were still face to face with Johanna who had not taken a single step backwards and waiting for Finnick.

He said goodbye to the audience and walked to where you were. He knew what was waiting for him there, an even angrier you who would not understand why he had done that. All this time moving around the Capitol and with much of your relationship on display for everyone, and you still hadn't learned how to play the real game.

―I'll go for her. I'm ready. ―Peeta offered instead of you. The man seemed satisfied and before walking Peeta to the stage, he warned you that you would go after the boy from District 12 whether you liked it or you didn't.

Finnick walked with his head down. You were no longer interested in Johanna but you were surprised by the way she and Finnick shared a look of complicity when he passed by your side. His eyes never landed on you but they did on his friend. You turned around and walked after him. Your fists were close, your jaw was tight.

You pushed him by his shoulders, now it was Finnick who seemed unbothered. You pushed him again, trying to get any reaction but instead, he continued walking as if you did not affect it. He was calmed, he did what he thought it needed to be done. People in the Capitol will have mercy on you, you will have plenty of sponsors and you will make it out alive. But you didn't want that. You wanted him to be the last one standing, you had already discussed that with Mags. The woman assured you that she'd do anything in her power to get Finnick out alive. ―Why did you do that to me?! Who gave you the right to do that?! Finnick I swear to God if you don't speak to me right now!

―Oh, now you want to talk, don't you? What happens if now I don't feel like it? Would you like that? Would you like me ignoring you like you've been doing with me for the past days?

By the way his eyes looked at you and the way he had said it, practically spitting the words in your face, you knew he had been holding it in for days. You shook your head. ―It's not the same.

―Oh but it is. Trust me. You just don't want to see it. And for your information, it was Mags. She gave me the right.―He turned around and answered your previous question. ―Oh, you didn't expect that answer? Did you think you were the only one she’s made promises to?

You clenched your jaw. You did think that. Whatever she'd promised Finnick would contradict the promises she had made to you, so she was clearly fooling one of you two. And you knew it wasn't Finnick.

―You made me look weak!

―But you're not so why do you care? Right now you have more than half of those people in the palm of your hand. You could need the stupidest thing in the arena and they would send it to you without even thinking about it. They will make you the victor.

―I didn't want that! I didn't want that and you don't even care!

―You're right, I don't.

―You fucker. ―You threw yourself against his chest, hitting him with your small hands compared to his body. He was still standing on the spot while you beat him with tears in your eyes out of anger.

―Come on come on, give him a break. ―Haymitch, who had gone backstage to be with Katniss when he saw Peeta come out on stage, tried to separate you from Finnick by grabbing you around your waist.

―Why don't you save all that anger for when we're in the arena? It'll be better.

―Finnick! ―Effie said, shocked.

―I fucking hate you. ― You mumbled. While Haymitch managed to get you away from Finnick, your hands grabbed his shirt, he wasn't going to get off that easy, not after that comment. Your body shook against District 12's mentor.

―I could really use a helping hand right now, you know? ―Haymitch struggled to hold you. Katniss and Johanna freed Finnick from your grip and he left. You tried to go after him but obviously, you couldn't do anything against three people. As you continued to fight to free yourself from his grasp, Peeta's voice sounded louder over the loudspeakers, getting your attention.

If it weren't for the baby.

You looked at Katniss and she looked at you, still trying to process what had just come out of Peeta's mouth and trying to find a way of not going into that stage and choke him to death. Now you were going to be the one who was going to hold her down.

―Well, congratulations to you two. You are going to be amazing moms if you make it out of this one alive.