#i love writing dialogue

[skyrim-forever]

OC in Fifteen

Thank you @justafoxhound and @dirty-bosmer for tagging me in this cool game :) Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @umbracirrus @hircines-hunter @changelingsandothernonsense

Post fifteen lines of dialogue that showcase your oc's personality <3

For Theodora

1. "Are you asking because it’s the proper thing to do?”

2. “Am I not pleasant conversation? You wound me my friend, you really do.”

3. “I bet you write all the ladies poems.”

4. “I don't, I'm not stupid. I just miss thieving. I’m spread so thin lately and I miss the fun we used to have, especially back in Cyrodiil.”

5. “I don’t know, it seems to be getting you all worked up.”

6. “I’m not doing it out of malice, I’m doing it to protect you.”

7. “I thought I was wretched, terrible even?”

8. “Then get rid of me.”

9. “Oh yes, I think he’ll be home any minute and kick you out for the wolves. Damn elves taking everything, including our women!” 

10. “Are you apologizing because you mean it or because you regret not getting laid that night?”

11. “I was planning to go to the tavern here. The Skeever, and I don’t think you’d like to be seen in public with me, least of all in a grubby Nord tavern.”

12. “I’ll forgive you if you keep getting carried away.”

13. “How could it not be General?” Money doesn’t make up for his loss. I have mourned my father for longer than I had known him. I will serve, serve proudly even, but only if my family is safe.”

14. “Yes, yes the famous mer supremacy I’ve heard about. Well Commander if you’re so superior, then why have you been hitting on me half the night?”

15. “I’m not any ordinary woman Commander, and I certainly won’t be treated as a consolation.”

[bluemantics]

“Love, please.” Allura pulled on a belt, ignoring her calls. “‘Llura.” She shoved her foot into a boot, snapping the buckles and then reaching for the next.

“Allura, at least look at me.” That, finally, made Allura spin on her heel to face Acxa, who was still dressed in her bedclothes. Her eyes were pleading, softer than Allura had ever seen outside of their bed.

“You don’t have to do this. All those years of fighting, of being stuck in that pod…” she trailed off helplessly, her hands balled tight at her sides. “We’re supposed to be done, okay? You’re supposed to be resting and everything is supposed to be—“

“Be what?” Allura demanded, now fully suited up. She reached for her last object, a light-bow, resting barely-used on the wall. “The universe won’t just stop suffering because the main war ended. We knew this would happen.”

Acxa's hands moved from being clenched at her sides to squeezing her arms, and she stared at Allura’s grip around her sleek white bow.

“Why can’t someone else handle it this time?” she tried again. “Why does it always need to be you?”

Allura paused, turning to stare at her lover with eyes as bright and as blue and as beautiful as Acxa had remembered from when they first met in battle, her pink marks flashing, her head lifted regally high, and oh.

“If I do not fight, then who will?” Allura said.

Acxa looked away from her, this woman and the laurel leaves that gleamed at her brow.

“I love you, but this is who I am,” the princess quietly explained, her hand coming to rest on Acxa's shoulder. Acxa turned away from her touch. The weight felt more like a false promise than an assurance.

“Darling—“

“Just... go.”

Allura sighed, and after a brief moment’s hesitation, walked to the door and opened it to the moonlight beyond.

Acxa could only spare a single glance at her retreating back. She was haloed by the moon, her bow luminous, and Acxa simply could not hope to contain this wild thing she’d always been.

And why would she?

[theecourtsjester]

Two excerpts from a short story I wrote for class last semester :3

From Coming Clean, a story about two queer high school students falling for each other, except one of them is religiously close minded and homophobic so he ruins it </3

1.

His house was quite nice. Thanks to his mom’s new boyfriend, he told me. It wasn’t too far from my place, so I took a mental note that if I needed to escape, I wouldn’t have far to go. I was slightly unnerved to find that he and I were the only two there that evening, he said his family was out of town for some festival or something. Still, he made me climb up the side of the house to get into his bedroom window, saying he never uses the front door.

“This house pisses me off. I stay in my room. Won’t go out unless I have to,” He explained. I didn’t understand but didn’t want to question him.

His room was filthy. Clothes strewn about, stains in the carpet, old food containers, and the whole place smelled strongly of alcohol and something rank. I cringed as I sat down hesitantly on his bed. It was the only spot free of filth, at least that I could see. I tried not to think about what he might have done in that bed.

“Before we get back to work, you gotta check this out,” Jory said, crouching down to rummage under his bed. After a few seconds he stood up quick with a pop in his knees, grinning ear to ear. He flashed several vinyl records, throwing all onto the bed except one. That one, he placed gingerly onto a record player I didn’t recognize at first under all the trash piled on top of it. He mumbled something about cleaning it up later, kicking it under the bed.

“I’m really not interested in listening to any of that, Jory. It’s not my style,” I said.

“‘Your style’ being shitty Jesus music and uh…Beethoven. Da Vinci, or something. You need some culture, Matthew.”

“Da Vinci was a painter.”

“Who cares? You’re listening to this. If you don’t I’m not helping anymore.”

“Wouldn’t change much.”

“Fuck off.”

He started the music, way too loud at first. I had to beg him to turn it down, which he did, but only after rolling his eyes and calling me a B.I.T.C.H. As for the music, it was nothing I’d ever heard before. Much louder, more abrasive, less controlled than I was used to. I guess I could see why he thought my taste was “boring” if that was what he liked.

“You like it, don’t you?” Jory asked, looking down at me with a smug grin. I didn’t respond, just started taking out my books and got to work.

“You like it. I can tell.”

I didn’t know how to tell him I did, so I didn’t. The rest of the night, we worked and Jory played me more music. I didn’t want to admit I was having a great time, but I found myself staying hours later than I planned, just taking it all in. At some point, we weren’t even working anymore, just relaxing and talking. I didn’t even realize it was getting dark out. Jory told me a lot about the music he was playing. Band names and history and album inspirations and everything in between. It was the most excited I’d seen him in the few months since he moved here. I didn’t want to, but I enjoyed seeing him light up like that. Happiness looked so good on him.

“I ever tell you I wanna start a band?” Jory asked as I was packing up my stuff to leave.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“It’s a pipe dream. It’ll never happen, but this. This is the kinda music I wanna make. It’s everything to me, dude. I’d give anything to be in a studio producing shit like this. Up on stage, blowing crowds heads off with my art. That’s my dream.”

“That’s pretty cool,” I said, hiding my smile.

“But now that I've turned you on to the good stuff, you'll be my first fan,” He tossed me a funny glance. “Or my first bandmate.”

I shook my head furiously. “Absolutely not.”

I heard Jory chuckle behind me, but I didn't look. I grabbed the last of my things and started heading for the door.

“Hold up, I got something for you,” He produced a few CDs, some with cases, some not. “Take these. All the shit I just played for you. I never use ‘em so you can have ‘em.”

I shook my head, mumbling something about not being interested, but he only rolled his eyes, turned me around and shoved them into my backpack. I tried to protest, but he simply pushed me over to his window and sent me on my way. He offered to walk me home since it had gotten late, but I shut that down quite sternly. My heart raced the whole way home. I had been tainted, allowing these things to be placed into my bag. I tossed them into a dumpster somewhere on the way home. No way I’d ever play those on my own.

2.

I confided in Jory about my sister, my doubts. He didn’t take it well. I knew he wouldn’t. But he was the only one I could talk to about it.

“I keep telling you they’re fucking brainwashing you, dude,” he said. “They’re afraid of what’s different and wanna beat it out of you. You know damn well there ain’t nothing wrong with you. Except maybe that shitty ‘God’ you like so much.”

“Stop talking like that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“What?”

“You let all your Jesus freak friends talk however they want about me and what I do, never speak a word in my defense. But the minute I have something to say about them or your fucking faith, it’s all ‘don’t talk like that,’ ‘you don’t understand,’ ‘that’s disrespectful’. Where’s my respect? Where’s my understanding? Hm?”

I couldn’t find an answer. He continued on.

“I try so hard to be here for you. I put up with so much of your bullshit, I listen to you, I try to help you, knowing damn well the second you leave, you pretend I don’t fucking exist. Why? Because I love you.”

“You know I love you too,” I hated seeing him upset, and I hated being the reason, but he was being unfair.

“Yeah, that’s rich. I can’t tell, Matt. I really can’t.”

I picked at my fingers, which had already been bleeding for a bit.

“Yeah, don’t say shit. If you ignore me you won’t have to deal with me, right? Go suck your God’s dick then, since you care so much more about him, huh?”

I left without saying anything. Jory mumbled more curses under his breath as I fumbled out of his window, but I had stopped listening. I had made up my mind before I even went to see him, he only confirmed my decision. It was only about five o’clock when I left him, so I took a long walk around town before heading back home. My parents would be back around seven.

Thanks for reading, if you did :3

[eldritch-flower]

Excerpt from my urban fantasy epic, "Zenith", because I'm writing this one 'reveal' scene and it's so difficult I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON IT FOR A WEEK AND I'M TIRED OF IT. Anyway, Zenith act 2 spoilers below the cut <3

Christ, the world was going insane.

It has always been insane, sir. You just never saw the truth.

Maybe Cuán was the one going insane. Hearing the voice of a dead man in his head, seeing all those- those mirrors that Danny said he wasn’t supposed to.

It was obvious something was going on. Something he didn’t understand, something he wasn’t privy to like the rest of his so-called ‘friends’ were. But he’d been drawn into whatever fantasies they claimed by murdering Jedidiah Shaffer in that casino. Cuán had thrown himself into the shit without a shovel to dig himself back out. And he had to live with that, consequences be damned.

So what? He was surrounded by alleged beings of… inhuman nature, most likely powerful. He didn’t doubt that any of the three in the room with him could kill him if they really wanted. Did they want to? No. They would have done it by now.

None of them were the kind to procrastinate.

“Cuán?” That was Afshani; dear, sweet Sammy. Cuán raised his gaze from the bohemian patterned rug thrown across the floor. “Are you alright?”

“Not really.”

Tommy huffed out a stiff laugh, strong arms folded over his chest. Tommy… should Cuán even still call him that? Or was he supposed to address the God as such?

“You said you’d already had experience with True World folk, Cuán. We didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” Sam said gently. The softness of their voice was like a cleansing lotion to the turmoil in his heart.

Susie frowned, studying Cuán indiscreetly: “You’ve seen others?”

The man nodded, slowly, and her mouth fell open.

“Other than me?”

“He said he’d seen a grindylow,” Sam said quietly, and Tommy raised an eyebrow. “And – Cuán, forgive me if I’m wrong in saying so… but you mentioned a banshee.”

“Aye.”

“You’re kidding,” Susie breathed out, sitting forward on the sofa. Her nails clawed at the plush fabric of the arm like, well… like claws. “Cuán, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Ain’t the type of thing I’d deem funny, Shiori,” he said stiffly.

“You’re done for, Dunleavy,” Tommy supplied unhelpfully. His words were contrite and filled with the same mirth he always spoke with, but the god’s face was a display of uncertainty that Cuán had never seen embedded in the strong lines of his jaw, in the set of his brow. He looked nervous.

“Don’t say that, Vulturnus,” Sam snapped, losing their collective mind for a moment as they examined Cuán with honey-flecked eyes.

“We can figure this out,” Susie said quietly. “People have outrun their fates before.”

“He knows nothing of the true world, Su. And he’s gonna have Reapers after him – “

Shiori bristled, leaping to her feet. “Who said anything about Reapers being involved?”

Tommy sneered: “The hospital think he’s an illegal. He didn’t have a licence.”

“He doesn’t need one! He’s a human!” The woman’s loud voice rang out, and Cuán pressed a hand to his temple as Shaffer sat in the forefront of his mind, content to watch and not say anything. His black amusement crept like a plague into Cuán’s own sensibilities.

“They don’t know that.”

Susie inhaled sharply, her jaw clenching, and she rounded on Cuán with fiery eyes. “You can’t just make anything easy for us, can you?”

“Hey, lady. You tell me first what a ‘reaper’ is and maybe I’ll get to workin’ on my teamwork skills,” Cuán growled back, green eyes narrowed in frustration. “You all sit here, playing human and pretending to care. But you’re so far removed from what it’s like to know nothing. So stop talking like I’m supposed to have a clue what’s goin’ on, and explain.”

Shiori stared at him, her dark eyes heated, knuckles white and clenched at her sides. Sam just watched him with a forlorn expression. Out of all of them, remarkably, it was Brown who looked the least concerned… and that, in and of itself, concerned Cuán.

Do not concern yourself with their fear. You are more than that. You are better.

[gabetheunknown]

when you're just writing a fun cliché little geraskier fanfiction to keep your mind busy till volume 2 drops but suddenly you're 11k in and it becomes a whole commitment

[gretavanfleetposts]

Genuinely these fics have me so excited!!!!!! I can’t wait

Thank you, thank you! I'm excited too, they're both quickly moving past the outline stage and getting dialogue which is when I start getting giddy haha

[the-cosmic-artist]

Someone smarter than me has said this before, but when writing dialogue, I always try to imagine the other person basically saying “no”.

Keeping tension in dialogue is a good way to make it more lively and fun to read, whether it be a slight disagreement, ignoring a question, answering a question *with* a question…

Writing Tips; Dialogue

Does your dialogue fall flat, or feel thin and strange? Does it feel like your characters are talking like robots? Do your conversations sound repetitive and monotone? We’ve all been there. It’s a very common occurrence amongst writers. Here are some of my favorite ways to avoid the monotone robot characters and add life and movement into your dialogue!

In this post, we’re going to have an example sentence that changes as I talk about different additions. Here it is in its naked, base form: “I know it’s real I saw it,” Nico said.

Now, let’s hop into making it lively, shall we?

-

1) PUNCTUATION

Commas and punctuation are your best friends! Use them. Use the crap out of them. Many people will say commas can’t go here and they can’t go there, but I say, in dialogue, it doesn’t matter. If you want your character to pause but you don’t want to use an ellipsis because it feels too long, use a comma. Put them wherever you want. Wherever your character pauses. If your character is rambling or talking really fast, take them out. It’s your dialogue. Use any and all punctuation to bedazzle up your lines. There is never too many or too little of anything if you want it that way, folks.

Keep in mind, punctuation can change the whole feeling of your sentence and the way your readers imagine your character talking. For example, your punctuation should differ between an excited and a sad line.

Here is the example sentence, punctuated in two different ways. “I know it’s real, I saw it!” Nico said. “I know it’s real… I saw it,” Nico said.

Can you see how just the change in punctuation changes the way you imagine him saying it? Really hone in on how your character is speaking and punctuate it to show that. (Keep in mind that this is your story and your character. You don’t have to obey punctuation rules and writing stereotypes, your story obeys you.) Put whatever punctuation you want there. Use thirty commas in your sentence. Use an ellipsis after every word. If it makes your character sound how you want them to sound, go for it, friends!

-

2) ITALICS

Some people hate reading over-italicized works, but that’s their own preference. Italics is a great way to add interest, movement, and a characters natural inflection into your dialogue. (I freaking love italics.) Italics helps readers understand what the character is focused on, and how they’re speaking. Again, people will say not to use it too much or only to use it so many times in a paragraph… but the key here is still to write it how you like it. Italics can make your sentences sound more human and more authentic.

Here is our pair of examples, now with punctuation and italics. “I know it’s real, I saw it!” Nico said. “I know it’s real… I saw it,” Nico said.

Take a minute and read through the example dialogue, imagining each word italicized one by one. Pay attention to the meaning and context it gives it. (For example, if the ‘I’ at the beginning is in italics — I know it’s real — that could imply that he’s talking to someone who doesn’t know or believe whatever he’s talking about is real.)

-

3) DIALOGUE TAGS

Tags. Tags, tags, tags! Tags are so important! Tags are brilliant for clarifying and identifying exactly how your character is speaking and how they intend for the statement to come across. If you ignore every other tip in this post, don’t ignore the tag! There are so many different words you could use instead of said that give life and context to your lines. Muttered, mumbled, yelled, shouted, exclaimed, whined, groaned, whispered, and a ton ton ton more. Use these to your advantage, like an outline for your dialogue. The tag is undoubtedly the easiest way to make your lines come across the way you want them to.

Here’s the examples with different tags! “I know it’s real, I saw it!” Nico defended. “I know it’s real… I saw it,” Nico mumbled.

Don’t be afraid to move your tag around, either! Sometimes, in order to make your conversations less repetitive, moving your tags are nice. You can put them at the beginning, middle, or end! (Middle tags are my favorite, I use them a whole, whole lot…)

Here’s the example sentence with a tag at the beginning and middle. Nico growled: “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico muttered. “I saw it.”

Don’t forget, tags don’t always have to be how they’re speaking. It can also be what they’re doing or how they’re acting, which can be just as telling as other tags. (I use action tags sooooooo much. Action tags in the middle of dialogue is my jam.)

The example sentences with action tags: Nico crossed his arms, huffing deeply. “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico averted his gaze, staring down at his shoes instead. “I saw it.”

Or, you can mix them both! An action tag plus how they’re speaking for maximum impact and description.

Here’s the example sentence with both! Nico rolled his eyes, hissing: “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico uttered, poorly stifling a shudder. “I saw it.”

-

4) DESCRIPTION

Describing the way your character looks, moves, speaks, etc etc before and after the line can further help your readers know how they feel about what they’re saying. This is especially important if the character is not the main character and doesn’t have internal dialogue. Body language can explain things voices can’t or won’t. You can explore putting these descriptions before the line, after the line, in the tag, or after the tag. Whatever you prefer!

Here’s the sentence with descriptive sentences with it. I did one before the line & tag and one in the middle! He was practically fuming, his eyebrows knitted so closely together they looked like a single strip of hair. His eyes were flicking between his friends like he was trying to determine if they were joking, blue irises blurred with a rage-fueled haze. Nico finally rolled his eyes, hissing: “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico uttered, poorly stifling a shudder. His eyes never left the floor, and he looked smaller, younger as he spoke. His breaths weren’t exactly even, but they weren’t too quick, either. “I saw it.”

-

Look at those two very different scenarios we got out of the same base line! This is the power you hold, folks, the power to un-bland your dialogue and make it into something intense and memorable for your readers! The power to make it portray exactly what you want it to portray! No more worrying how your readers took that line, because you set in stone how it was presented.

Remember, making a paragraph like that for every line might get tiring or repetitive to read. Sometimes tags alone are good enough in fast-paced or long conversations, and sometimes, if the dialogue makes it clear who is speaking, the line can suffice by itself!

If you have any writing tip requests, drop them in my inbox!

[artsymeeshee]

Another aroace Ford idea that came up. I just really like the idea of Ford going to Mabel for these types of things :’)

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[lyralit]

anything but just "I love you"

I want to love you.

I think I can love you?

Let me love you.

I loved you.

I would love you.

I can try to love you.

I used to know how to love you (I don't anymore)

I still love you.

Do you love me?

Can you try to love me?

I can't stop loving you.

Let me try to love you.

I think I can love you.

I think I can try (to love you).

Do you still love me?

Did you ever love me?

I don't think I could ever love you.

Don't let me love you.

I gave up (loving you).

You made me love you.

I've always loved you (but I can't anymore).

[urfriendlywriter]

20 "we are each other's safe place" romance prompts:

(feeling emo now that I'm officially back :') feel free to useee and tag me when yall write!!)

holding each other close in silence

yearning for just one hug after being separated for so so long... </3

"i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." :'')

noticing that bright smile of theirs after you compliment them. [my heart. omds]

them rushing into your embrace after a long day

"let me ask my partner." or,

"oh, my partner at home is waiting for me, i better get going :)"

being ur partner's mum's favorite, hehehe

^ "ma... how come they're getting head rubs from you often while i rarely do?"

sulking to get attention from them and they get cuteness aggression over you (> < my cuteness aggress. for mr. japan goes crazy guys!!)

being you comes easy with them ♡

being emotionally available to one another, and having each other and knowing you're not alone <3

when they're affirmative and expect affirmations from you <communication is the best trope>

cuddling and cozying up together, being all physical but not sexual ツ✰

them wrapping their hand around yours whenever walking together

when it's their smile, that's just enough to brighten your day :')

loving and living and actually looking forward to tomorrow with them,

^ "you make me want to be a better person."

"smile for me" or, "twirl for me" :))

searching for each other in a crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere (this is just love guys, top tier.)

[druid-for-hire]

hawkeye and trapper get fake septums

(id under the cut)

[image id: a three-page digital comic about characters from the TV show MASH, illustrated by "druid-for-hire." On page 1, frank burns squints at Hawkeye from a short distance, who is next to Trapper, who is reading a newspaper that obscures his face. "Pierce," Burns asks, "what's on your face?" Hawkeye turns to face him, revealing a septum piercing. "what's what, Frank?" he asks. Shocked and affronted by this breach in army regulations, he shouts, "I can't!! Believe you!! It's not enough for you to disagrace the army uniform by being out of it all the time? You have to go and--and do that! You look like a punk! Or a cow!"

On page 2, Hawkeye, unbothered, replies "Y'know, Frank, I'm finally living up to the Pierce name. I was thinking about going for some ear tag earrings. Maybe I can get a nurse to pull my udders." Frank howls, "That's disgusting!" Turning to Trapper he shouts, "Did you have anything to do with this, McIntyre?" Trapper pulls down the newspaper to reveal that he's wearing three septum rings and says, "I sure did! He stole my look!"

On page 3, Frank says "You're both terrible. Both of your butts are going on report!" while Hawkeye takes out his apparently fake septum ring behind his back. "Report for what, Frank?" he asks; Frank turns to see that the piercing is now missing. "Yeah, what's the matter, Frank?" Trapper says, whose piercing is suddenly missing as well. Frank storms off, yelling "Neither of you can pull the wool over my eyes!! Just wait until General Barker hears about this!" Some time later, Frank is standing next to General Barker, pointing at Hawk. "General, I'm telling you, the hole is THERE!" he shouts. "Go and take a look in those nostrils for yourself!" There is a long and awkward pause. The General did not like that. Hawkeye remarks, "Gee Frank, take a girl to dinner first." end id]

[me-writes-prompts]

-:"I can't stop loving you." Angsty romance prompts for your otp:-

(This prompt list...... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. tag me if you write these ☠️)

By @me-writes-prompts

"It's not you...it's me. I can't stop loving you."

"If I knew loving someone would hurt so much, I still would've loved you."

"I'm tired of being the only one who loves you. I need you to love yourself first." oof

"This is not the version of you I fell in love with. And honestly, I've forgotten the real you." T-T

"Is it so hard to believe I've stopped loving you?"

"I can't live without you. I can't love without you. I need you, by my side, always did and always will." "You'll be okay. I know you will."

"It's not okay to just leave me here, after telling me you love me back." "We can't- we'll never be together."

"So you choose them over me? After all we've been through together, you choose them?"

"I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?" (bear with me here AHHHH)

"It's truly funny...how you can't choose who you want to be in love with. I didn't choose to be in love with you. It just happened, and I wish it didn't."

Walking in rain to their house just to find that they're no longer there.

"You can't go. You cannot leave me here. You promised we'll be together forever." (No words)

Playing the song they always sang together to, and just crying.

"It'll never be the same between us. We'll never be the same."

"Your silence speaks more than you ever have. And, I'm not sure why it took so long for me to notice."

"You've drifted so far away from my side that I can no longer reach for your hand and guide you back to me." SOB OMG DID I JUST WRITE THAT

"I can no longer recognize you. And that's not even the saddest part. It's the fact that you no longer make any attempt to make me understand you."

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “it’s all about the kisses but add just a lil’ flavouring to it” prompts 

Character B pulling Character A closer by the small of their back/their waist as things get extremely heated (FUCKING JUST TAKE ME RIGHT THEN AND THERE YES YES YES YE SYE E-FJEWOINFW’LFNK i am malfuncTIONING YOUR HONOUR-)

Character A carding their fingers through Character’s hair 

Character A letting slip soft little noises as they kiss 

Character B letting their lips wander all over Character A’s face before pressing their lips against theirs again, stealing their breath away with another kiss

Character A’s hands slipping up Character B’s shirt, palms splaying on their back; fingers tracing down their spine

Character A giggling when Character B trails kisses down to their neck because they’re sensitive/ticklish there, which causes Character B to laugh along with them (LKNEWFLKNWFEN PLEAAASSSEEE I WILL CRYERWUIRB)

Character A pulling Character B closer by the nape of their neck

Smiling/laughing into the kiss (JUST. YES. YES. YES. A MILLION YESSES. GREEN FLAGS ALL AROUND IDFC WHAT YOU SAY) 

When it goes from innocent little pecks to them making out (What can I say? What can I say?? WHAT CAN I SAYYYYYYY?)

Character B’s hand stroking the side of Character A’s thigh as they kiss

Hands roaming all over each other 

Character B pulling away, exhaling a soft laugh as they hold Character A closer to them. “You good?” they ask, and Character A nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” Character A murmurs, smiling a little as they hide their face on the crook of their neck, cheeks a little more flushed than usual. (PL EAS EE THAT LITTLE GIGGLE OF HIS WILL ALWAYS BE MY FAVOURITE THING ABOUT HIM WQRNEW;LKN’FKN and the check ins THE SWEETEST MAN FRRR) 

[fcthots]

OKAY SO. I was thinking abt Jason fucking you raw for the first time and he's all dizzy and giddy when he puts it in and he has to like pause for a sec because if he moves he's 99% sure he's gonna cum and like YEAH. i need this man BADLY. anyways...

-💌

This came out more cracky than I intended

"Fuck, Jason. Move."

"Can't."

"What the fuck do you mean you can't? If you don’t hurry up and fuck me-'

'I mean if I move I'm gonna cum."

"You haven't even been inside me for a full minute."

"Shut up. You feel so good. Can't help it. Gimme a minute."

"Jason," you whine, "please."