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vrtualchg · 28 days ago

Text

IN THE DARK

he shouldn’t want her like this. shouldn’t crave the girl who constantly challenged him, undermined him, humiliated him in front of everyone. but her mouth was always sharp, and her body even sharper. she was fire and venom, and when she finally let him in—literally, painfully, perfectly in—he realized losing to her never felt so fucking good. she was cocky, clever, impossible. and tonight, she was his.

pairing: Draco Malfoy x f!rival!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, Hogwarts-era

tw: MDNI 18+, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex (broom closet), rough sex, gagging (tie), power dynamics, possessive Draco, filthy talk, overstimulation, denial, post-orgasm tenderness, he’s so gone for her it’s embarrassing

part one- In Spite of Everything

Tag: @jasminedragoon

It wasn’t nothing.

Merlin help him—it never had been.

Draco Malfoy was slowly, painfully, and irrevocably coming to terms with a truth he’d spent years avoiding: he had a crush. A real, consuming, all-encompassing crush. On her. On the girl who had been a thorn in his side since first year. The girl who challenged him without fear, whose wit was sharper than a blade, who rolled her eyes at him like it was a reflex. She was maddening—brilliant, insufferable, untouchable. And yet, somehow, he wanted her more than he wanted air.

It was pathetic, really. He saw her in the corridors—hair a little messy, tie loosened, wearing one of those oversized jumpers that swallowed her frame—and his breath caught like a child’s. Every time she smiled, especially when it wasn’t at him, something twisted in his chest. Something raw and reckless. He told himself it was just lust, that he’d grow out of it. That it wasn’t real.

But it was. It was real.

He’d catch glimpses of her across the Great Hall and pretend he wasn’t looking, pretend he wasn’t dissecting every glance she gave someone else. Every excuse to talk to her became a strategy. A carefully constructed trap. And one day, in Potions, he gave in.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he murmured as he appeared beside her like a shadow, heart racing beneath a perfectly tailored robe.

Her potion was flawless—of course it was. She was annoyingly good at everything. But Draco didn’t care. He just needed her to look at him.

She turned her head, brows raised, lips twitching with that familiar, smug glint. “Oh, I’m sorry—did I ask for commentary?”

He leaned closer, dangerously close, under the guise of checking her cauldron. His voice dropped, low and deliberate, almost brushing her ear. “It’s wrong. Trust me.”

She stiffened but didn’t move away. “You smell terrible,” she said, too quickly. Her voice trembled at the edges.

Draco smiled—slow and knowing. “Liar.”

He knew she was lying. He always smelled good. Clean, expensive cologne and a hint of cinnamon from breakfast—she noticed. She had to. And in that moment, with her breath ghosting across his skin and her eyes flaring with something unspoken, Draco knew he was doomed.

He thought about her that night. And the next. And every night after, until his pillow became a poor substitute for her skin and his imagination cruelly vivid.

And now—now it was nearly midnight, and Draco was prowling through the castle like some lovesick cliché. His robes billowed behind him, dramatic and theatrical and entirely on purpose. He told himself he was just clearing his head, but the truth was simple: he hoped he'd see her.

Fate had a sick sense of humor.

She appeared from the corridor opposite, lit by flickering candlelight. She moved with purpose, wand swinging gently at her side, expression focused. Her eyes found his immediately. Always too perceptive.

“Draco,” she greeted, cool and composed, like she wasn’t the centre of his universe.

“First-name basis,” he drawled. “I’m touched.”

She rolled her eyes. He felt it in his spine. “You’re unbearable. Do you try to be this insufferable or is it just natural?”

He arched a brow, let a lazy smirk curl across his lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know what I’m naturally good at?”

You. You, in every fucking way. The thought hit hard. Too hard.

She crossed her arms and his eyes dropped—traitorously—to the way it pushed her tits up. He bit the inside of his cheek. Control. He needed control.

“No. I wouldn’t.” She sniffed. “You’re such a teenage boy, Malfoy.”

Before he could respond—something biting or desperate or maybe both—footsteps echoed down the corridor. A professor. Heavy, measured, getting closer.

“Shit,” he breathed.

Without hesitation, Draco reached for the nearest broom cupboard, yanked the door open, and pulled her inside with him.

She gasped as they stumbled into darkness.

It was cramped. Warm. Too warm. Her body was right there, chest brushing his, her scent intoxicating. Ink, vanilla, and something sweeter—something hers. His head swam.

“What the hell are you—” she began, but he clapped a hand gently over her mouth, palm firm and fingers splayed across her cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his breath brushing the curve of her face. “Just this once, try not talking.”

Her glare was blistering even in the dark, but she didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. And then he felt it—her hands, pressed against his abdomen, grounding herself. Warm and uncertain.

“You’re touching me,” he murmured, voice quiet but loaded.

“I thought you were the wall,” she muttered.

A breath of laughter escaped him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He let his hand drop from her mouth to her waist. Then lower, to her hip. She tensed—but didn’t stop him. So he pulled her closer, until the space between them was gone.

“Shut up,” she whispered, almost like a confession.

Then her fingers hooked around his tie and yanked.

And her lips crashed into his.

Draco’s world exploded.

She kissed him like he was the only solid thing in a world of smoke and mirrors. He kissed her like he’d been waiting his whole damn life. His hands found her hips, gripping tightly, anchoring her to him, grinding his hardness into the soft heat of her center.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently, drawing a low groan from his throat. He barely realized he was walking her backwards until her spine met the wall and she gasped against his lips.

His mouth moved down to her neck—fevered, hungry. He kissed and nipped and sucked, already imagining the marks he was leaving. His name spilled from her lips like a secret.

��Draco…”

He groaned, hips bucking once—sharp and desperate.

“You’re going to have to be quiet, darling,” he breathed against her pulse, voice ragged. “Can’t have Flitwick catching us while you’re saying my name like that.”

She whimpered—soft and high—and he felt it like a curse. Her thighs trembled under his touch.

Then his fingers slid up, ghosting under her skirt, cupping her over her panties. Damp. Soaked. For him. His smirk faltered, replaced by something more reverent.

“Oh, love. That’s all for me?”

“Shut up,” she breathed, trembling as he hooked her underwear aside and slipped a finger inside.

Her head dropped to his shoulder. “Oh—Merlin—”

“Careful,” he whispered, adding a second finger, curling them just right, “You’ll get us caught, baby.”

He brought his other hand to her mouth, muffling her gasp, whispering praise into her ear as he moved his fingers in and out. She clenched around him, clawing at his shirt, her thighs quivering.

“Draco,” she panted into his palm, voice muffled. “I—I need you. Please.”

He swore under his breath. He would’ve given her the bloody moon if she’d asked like that.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice shaking. “Yeah, okay.”

He pulled his fingers from her—slow, reluctant, savoring every inch. She whimpered at the loss. His belt was a blur, his zipper louder than it should’ve been. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, already leaking.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he said softly, reverently, tugging her panties down her legs. “Hands on the wall.”

She obeyed, breathless.

And Draco Malfoy, prince of cold sarcasm and sharp tongues, was gone—utterly, ruinously hers.

He pushed in slowly at first, his breath catching the moment her slick warmth enveloped him, tight and pulsing, like her body was trying to keep him out—and pull him in at the same time.

Draco’s head dropped forward, his forehead pressing between her shoulder blades, the air punched from his lungs. "Fuck. You’re—bloody hell, you’re tight. Relax for me, love,” he murmured, voice strangled, trying not to lose it too fast. Her cunt squeezed around him, trembling and hot, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from giving in right then and there.

“You’re…” she started, but the words dissolved into a gasp—a broken, choked sound—because Draco couldn’t wait anymore. With a rough snap of his hips, he buried himself in her to the hilt, every inch of his thick cock sheathed in her heat. The sudden fullness made her cry out, her back arching instinctively, pressing her ass flush against his hips.

Draco groaned against her spine. She was unreal.

He didn’t start slow—couldn’t. His restraint had long since evaporated. He set a brutal, steady rhythm, rutting into her with deep, measured thrusts that had the wooden shelves beside her rattling in protest. His hand found her waist, fingers digging into her skin like he needed proof she was real. With every slam of his hips, her body jolted against the wall, her moans echoing softly in the cramped, dark space.

“Listen to you,” he rasped, mouth by her ear now. “Making those pretty little sounds—just for me. You love this, don’t you?”

She whimpered—neither confirmation nor denial—but the way she clenched around him was answer enough.

His hand slid around her front, slipping down her belly, until his fingers found her clit. He didn’t tease. He couldn’t. Instead, he rubbed fast, tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing her toward the edge, her gasps climbing into a desperate cadence.

“Draco,” she moaned, her cheek pressed against the stone wall, eyes glassy, mouth slack.

“Open your mouth, darling,” he whispered, voice thick with possession and something far more tender he didn’t dare name.

She obeyed, lips parting obediently—so trusting—and he balled up his green Slytherin tie and slid it between her teeth, muffling the sounds he was sure would get them caught. He looked at her, really looked—her flushed cheeks, her eyes fluttering shut, that damned jumper pushed up above her hips, her mouth full of his tie—and he swore, low and reverent.

“Can’t have you getting us caught now, can we?” he murmured, before gripping her hips again and driving back into her with a force that nearly knocked her forward. She gasped around the fabric, her knuckles whitening as she braced herself on the wall.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, head falling to her shoulder, hips rolling against her with steady, ruthless power. “So. Fucking. Good.” He punctuated each word with a rough thrust that made her legs shake and her whimpers break into stuttered sobs of pleasure.

He looked up, eyes dragging over her face. Her lashes were damp, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks, and her brows were knit with overwhelmed ecstasy. His tie—his fucking tie—was clutched between her teeth, soaked with spit and moans, and it might’ve been the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. She looked ruined. His.

The tight coil inside him wound tighter, but he bit it back. Not yet. Not until she comes first.

And she was close. He could feel it—the way she pulsed around him, the trembling in her thighs, the desperate flex of her fingers against the stone.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered before he could stop himself. The words left him like a confession, fragile and raw.

Her body jerked.

“Cum for me,” he breathed into her hair. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

And she did.

Her back arched, hips stuttering, body going rigid around him as she broke apart in his arms. She clenched around him like a vice, her cunt fluttering and squeezing in rhythmic waves that pulled a guttural moan from Draco’s throat. Her muffled cries spilled around the tie, her whole body trembling as her orgasm rolled through her.

Draco held her up as she sagged against the wall, arms firm around her waist, and then—then—he let go. One final thrust, hard and deep, and he came with a strangled gasp, burying himself in her as he spilled inside, hot and thick. His vision whited out. His whole world narrowed to the feel of her—soft and wet and trembling around him—and the sound of both their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence.

They didn’t move for a long time.

Their bodies stayed locked together, her chest rising and falling beneath his, his forehead still resting against the curve of her shoulder. His release slowly dripped down her thighs, and some of it had already soaked into his boxers and the waistband of his slacks. He didn’t care. He was floating.

Eventually, Draco reached up with trembling fingers and gently pulled the tie from her mouth, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. She turned her head slightly, eyes still half-lidded, lips swollen from their kisses.

She whispered, soft and quiet: “I lied.”

He blinked, still hazy. “Hm?”

“Earlier. In Potions. When I said you smell awful.” Her voice was barely audible now, but it cut through the air like glass. “I lied.”

Draco let out a low, breathless laugh, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her skin was damp, flushed, smelling like sex and sweat and something perfect. “I knew it,” he murmured, smiling into her skin.

He was so fucking screwed.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

Sooooo😄 this was something. Also I genuinely BELIEVE Draco would smell divine and NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #hogwarts fanfiction #hogwarts au #Emmy writes!

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faithsmadhouse · 2 months ago

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Dear god your max x piastri! Sister smut has me down bad, what do you think about max with a reporter who always riles him up, and after P2 in Saudi Arabia she makes him so mad in interviews he takes her back to his hotel room at the afterparty and makes her pay the price 😼

Pay the price||Max verstappen x Fem!reader

Summary— After a frustrating P2 finish in Saudi Arabia, Max Verstappen is already on edge — and the reporter who’s been riling him up all season finally pushes him too far. When the afterparty fades into flashing lights and adrenaline, Max drags her back to his hotel room to make her pay the price.

Word count

Warnings-Explicit sexual content (18+) Rough sex Dom/sub dynamics (light power imbalance) Degradation (light — calling reader a “fucktoy”) Spanking Breathless/forceful kissing consent is implied but not explicitly discussed Emotional tension / anger sex Minor manhandling (being grabbed, dragged) Possessiveness

A/n — I’m glad you liked it because I’m working on a second part!

The champagne was still drying in his hair when you cornered him.

“Disappointing day, huh, Max?” you asked, voice syrupy sweet, recording device already shoved toward his face.

His jaw tightened. “P2 isn’t bad.”

“But not what you’re used to. Not what you wanted.”

You tilted your head like you were sympathizing. You weren’t.

You knew exactly how to poke him; it was your job, after all and something about him always made you want to poke harder. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like he could set you on fire if he stared long enough.

“Frustrating to be beaten at your own game?” you added, a little too innocent.

Max’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

The PR girl hovering behind him gave a nervous cough, but he ignored her completely. His gaze was locked onto you like he was already imagining all the ways he’d shut you up if he could.

“You love this, don’t you?” he muttered under his breath, low enough the microphone wouldn’t catch it. “Pushing me. Trying to see how far you can go.”

You just smiled sweetly, recording blinking red in your hand.

Max leaned in close, so close you could smell the champagne and sweat still clinging to him.

“Be careful,” he said his voice a threat and a promise. “You might find out.”

—

The afterparty blurred with music and flashing lights, but you knew he’d find you.

You could feel it. The tension, thick in the air, the way your skin prickled whenever you thought about him.

Sure enough, as you sipped from a flute of cheap champagne, a hand closed around your wrist firm, unrelenting.

Max.

“Let’s go,” he said simply.

You didn’t argue.

You barely had time to process it before you were in a private elevator, the hum of it rising along with the pulse between your legs.

“You think you’re so clever,” he growled, backing you against the mirrored wall as soon as the doors slid shut. “Running your mouth, laughing at me.”

You smirked, cocky even now. “Maybe.”

Max’s lips crashed into yours, brutal, demanding. Teeth clashing, breath hot and furious. He tasted like adrenaline and resentment, and you drank it down like you were dying of thirst.

When you gasped against his mouth, he grinned a sharp, wolfish thing and spun you, pressing your front against the mirror.

“You wanted my attention?” he hissed in your ear, grinding his hips against your ass. You could feel him, thick and already hard through the fabric of his jeans.

You arched back into him shamelessly. “Maybe.”

The elevator dinged, and before you could move, Max threw his jacket over your shoulders, hiding you from the curious eyes in the hallway as he dragged you down it, quick and purposeful.

The door to his hotel room slammed shut behind you.

And then chaos.

He shoved you against the wall, kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, hands rough as they yanked at your dress, pulling it up around your hips.

“You wanted to make me lose it?” he rasped. “Congratulations.”

You moaned as his fingers slid into your panties, finding you already wet for him.

“Fuck, you’re desperate,” Max muttered, voice thick with disgusted arousal. “Bet you were dripping during the interview, weren’t you? Getting off on making me angry.”

You couldn’t deny it. Wouldn’t.

“Answer me,” he snarled, slipping two fingers inside you without warning. Your legs buckled.

“Y-Yes,” you gasped. “Fucking love it.”

Max laughed low in his throat a dark, cruel sound.

“Of course you do.”

He pulled his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth. “Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this.”

You sucked greedily, eyes locked on his.

Max’s control snapped.

He ripped your panties down, turned you around, and bent you over the bed. You heard his belt unbuckle, the sound making your whole body clench with anticipation.

“No teasing,” you whined, wriggling your hips.

He didn’t tease.

He drove into you with one brutal thrust, making you scream into the bedsheets.

“That’s it,” he groaned, gripping your hips so hard you knew you’d have bruises. “Take it. Take what you fucking asked for.”

He fucked you like he was punishing you fast, rough, merciless. Every thrust was an accusation.

For the race.

For the interview.

For the way you made him feel.

But you loved it.

You lived for it.

“Look at you,” he panted, voice tight. “So cocky earlier. Now you’re just my little fucktoy.”

You whimpered, pushing back against him, desperate for more, for everything.

“Say it,” he demanded, slapping your ass hard enough to make you cry out. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, the words torn from your throat. “Fuck, Max I’m yours.”

He groaned, hips stuttering. You felt him throb inside you, and with one more rough thrust, he came, spilling deep inside you.

You collapsed onto the bed, shaking, wrecked.

Max pulled out slowly, staring down at the mess he made, at the way you were trembling for him.

Then to your shock he leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, soft and lingering.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered.

You smiled weakly into the sheets. “Good.”

#f1 smut #f1 x you #formula one x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula one x reader #f1 x female reader #formula one x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut

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literaryvein-reblogs · 10 months ago

Text

600+ Personality Traits

as reference for your next poem/story

Positive Traits

Accessible - easy to speak to or deal with

Active - disposed to action; energetic

Adaptable - capable of being or becoming adapted (i.e., suited by nature, character, or design to a particular use, purpose, or situation)

Admirable - deserving the highest esteem

Adventurous - disposed to seek adventure or to cope with the new and unknown

Agreeable - ready or willing to agree or consent

Alert - watchful and prompt to meet danger or emergency

Allocentric - having one's interest and attention centered on other persons

Amiable - friendly, sociable, and congenial

Anticipative - given to anticipation (i.e., the act of looking forward)

Appreciative - having or showing appreciation (i.e., a favorable critical estimate)

Articulate - expressing oneself readily, clearly, and effectively

Aspiring - desiring and working to achieve a particular goal

Athletic - characteristic of an athlete; vigorous, active

Attractive - arousing interest or pleasure; charming

Balanced - being in a state of balance; having different parts or elements properly or effectively arranged, regulated etc.

Benevolent - marked by or disposed to doing good

Brilliant - distinguished by unusual mental keenness or alertness

Calm - free from agitation, excitement, or disturbance

Capable - having or showing general efficiency and ability

Captivating - charmingly or irresistibly appealing

Caring - feeling or showing concern for or kindness to others

Challenging - invitingly provocative; fascinating

Charismatic - having, exhibiting, or based on charisma (i.e., a special magnetic charm or appeal)

Charming - extremely pleasing or delightful; entrancing

Cheerful - full of good spirits; merry

Clean - pure; free from moral corruption or sinister connections of any kind; fair

Clearheaded - having or showing a clear understanding; perceptive

Clever - mentally quick and resourceful

Colorful - full of variety or interest

Companionable - marked by, conducive to, or suggestive of companionship; sociable

Compassionate - having or showing compassion; sympathetic

Conciliatory - intended to gain goodwill or favor or to reduce hostility

Confident - having or showing assurance and self-reliance

Conscientious - meticulous, careful

Considerate - thoughtful of the rights and feelings of others

Constant - marked by firm steadfast resolution or faithfulness

Contemplative - marked by or given to contemplation (i.e., an act of considering with attention)

Cooperative - marked by a willingness and ability to work with others

Courageous - having or characterized by courage; brave

Courteous - marked by respect for and consideration of others

Creative - having the quality of something created rather than imitated; imaginative

Cultured - cultivated (i.e., refined, educated)

Curious - marked by desire to investigate and learn

Daring - venturesomely bold in action or thought

Debonair - suave, urbane; lighthearted, nonchalant

Decent - marked by moral integrity, kindness, and goodwill

Decisive - resolute, determined

Dedicated - devoted to a cause, ideal, or purpose; zealous

Deep - of penetrating intellect; wise

Dignified - showing or expressing dignity (i.e., the quality or state of being worthy, honored, or esteemed)

Directed - having a positive or negative sense

Disciplined - marked by or possessing discipline (i.e., orderly or prescribed conduct or pattern of behavior)

Discreet - prudent; modest; unobtrusive

Dramatic - having or showing a tendency to behave or react in an exaggerated way

Dutiful - filled with or motivated by a sense of duty

Dynamic - energetic, forceful

Earnest - characterized by or proceeding from an intense and serious state of mind

Ebullient - having or showing liveliness and enthusiasm

Educated - having an education; skilled

Efficient - productive of desired effects

Elegant - of a high grade or quality; splendid

Eloquent - marked by forceful and fluent expression

Empathetic - involving, characterized by, or based on empathy (i.e., the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another)

Energetic - operating with or marked by vigor or effect

Enthusiastic - filled with or marked by enthusiasm (i.e., strong excitement of feeling)

Esthetic - artistic; appreciative of, responsive to, or zealous about the beautiful

Exciting - producing excitement (i.e., something that rouses)

Extraordinary - exceptional to a very marked extent

Fair - marked by impartiality and honesty

Faithful - steadfast in affection or allegiance; loyal

Farsighted - having or showing foresight or good judgment; sagacious

Felicific - causing or intended to cause happiness

Firm - not weak or uncertain; vigorous

Flexible - characterized by a ready capability to adapt to new, different, or changing requirements; tractable

Focused - a state or condition permitting clear perception or understanding

Forceful - possessing or filled with force; effective

Forgiving - allowing room for error or weakness

Forthright - free from ambiguity or evasiveness

Freethinking - thinking freely or independently

Friendly - showing kindly interest and goodwill

Fun-loving - lighthearted and lively

Gallant - nobly chivalrous and often self-sacrificing; spirited

Generous - liberal in giving; magnanimous

Gentle - free from harshness, sternness, or violence; docile

Genuine - free from hypocrisy or pretense; sincere

Good-natured - of a pleasant and cooperative disposition

Gracious - marked by kindness and courtesy

Hardworking - constantly, regularly, or habitually engaged in earnest and energetic work; industrious, diligent

Healthy - prosperous, flourishing

Hearty - enthusiastically or exuberantly cordial; jovial

Helpful - of service or assistance; useful

Heroic - exhibiting or marked by courage and daring

High-minded - marked by elevated principles and feelings; also: pretentious

Honest - genuine, real; marked by integrity

Honorable - deserving of respect or high regard; illustrious

Humble - not proud or haughty; unpretentious

Humorous - full of or characterized by humor; funny

Idealistic - of or relating to idealists or idealism (i.e., having a standard of perfection, beauty, or excellence)

Imaginative - given to imagining; having a lively imagination

Impressive - making or tending to make a marked impression; having the power to excite attention, awe, or admiration

Incisive - impressively direct and decisive

Incorruptible - incapable of being bribed or morally corrupted

Independent - not requiring or relying on others

Individualistic - pursuing a markedly independent course in thought or action

Innovative - characterized by, tending to, or introducing innovations (i.e., a new idea, method, or device)

Inoffensive - giving no provocation; peaceable

Insightful - exhibiting or characterized by insight (i.e., the power or act of seeing into a situation)

Insouciant - lighthearted unconcern; nonchalance

Intelligent - guided or directed by intellect; rational

Intuitive - possessing or given to intuition or insight

Invulnerable - immune to or proof against attack

Kind - of a sympathetic or helpful nature

Knowledgeable - having or showing knowledge or intelligence-

Leisurely - characterized by leisure; unhurried

Liberal - marked by generosity; openhanded; broad-minded

Logical - skilled in logic; analytic; capable of reasoning

Lovable - having qualities that attract affection

Loyal - unswerving in allegiance

Lyrical - having an artistically beautiful or expressive quality suggestive of song

Magnanimous - showing or suggesting a lofty and courageous spirit

Many-sided - having many sides or aspects; interests or aptitudes

Mature - based on slow careful consideration

Methodical - habitually proceeding according to method

Meticulous - marked by extreme or excessive care in the consideration or treatment of details

Moderate - avoiding extremes of behavior or expression; calm, temperate

Modest - decent; unpretentious

Multi-leveled - having a scale (as of difficulty or achievement) with multiple positions or ranks

Natural leader - a person who has qualities that a good leader has

Neat - habitually clean and orderly

Nonauthoritarian - not authoritarian (i.e., of, relating to, or favoring a concentration of power in a leader or an elite not constitutionally responsible to the people)

Objective - expressing or dealing with facts or conditions as perceived without distortion by personal feelings, prejudices, or interpretations

Observant - paying strict attention; keen; mindful

Open - characterized by ready accessibility and usually generous attitude; responsive

Optimistic - of, relating to, or characterized by optimism; feeling or showing hope for the future

Orderly - well behaved; peaceful; tidy

Organized - having a formal organization to coordinate and carry out activities

Original - independent and creative in thought or action; inventive

Painstaking - taking pains; expending, showing, or involving diligent care and effort

Passionate - capable of, affected by, or expressing intense feeling; enthusiastic

Patient - bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint; not hasty

Patriotic - befitting or characteristic of a patriot (i.e., one who loves and supports his or her country)

Peaceful - untroubled by conflict, agitation, or commotion; quiet, tranquil

Perceptive - responsive to sensory stimuli; discerning; observant

Perfectionist - having a disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable

Personable - pleasant or amiable in person; attractive

Persuasive - tending to persuade (i.e., to move by argument, entreaty, or expostulation to a belief, position, or course of action)

Planful - full of plans; resourceful; scheming

Playful - full of play; frolicsome, sportive; humorous

Polished - characterized by a high degree of development, finish, or refinement; free from imperfections

Popular - commonly liked or approved

Practical - actively engaged in some course of action or occupation; useful

Precise - strictly conforming to a pattern, standard, or convention

Principled - exhibiting, based on, or characterized by principle (i.e., a comprehensive and fundamental law, doctrine, or assumption)

Profound - having intellectual depth and insight

Protean - displaying great diversity or variety; versatile

Protective - intended to resist or prevent attack or aggression

Providential - coming or happening by good luck especially unexpectedly; fortunate

Prudent - having or showing good judgment and restraint especially in conduct or speech; cautious

Punctual - being on time; prompt

Purposeful - full of determination

Rational - having reason or understanding; reasonable

Realistic - able to see things as they really are and to deal with them in a practical way

Reflective - marked by reflection; thoughtful, deliberative

Relaxed - easy of manner; informal

Reliable - suitable or fit to be relied on; dependable

Resourceful - able to meet situations; capable of devising ways and means

Respectful - marked by or showing respect or deference

Responsible - able to answer for one's conduct and obligations; trustworthy

Responsive - quick to respond or react appropriately or sympathetically; sensitive

Reverential - expressing or having a quality of reverence (i.e., honor or respect felt or shown; deference)

Romantic - having an inclination for romance; responsive to the appeal of what is idealized, heroic, or adventurous

Rustic - characteristic of or resembling country people

Sage - wise through reflection and experience

Sane - rational; able to anticipate and appraise the effect of one's actions

Scholarly - of, characteristic of, or suitable to learned persons; learned, academic

Scrupulous - having moral integrity; acting in strict regard for what is considered right or proper

Secure - trustworthy, dependable; assured in opinion or expectation; confident

Selfless - having no concern for self; unselfish

Self-critical - inclined to find fault with oneself; critical of oneself

Self-denying - showing self-denial (i.e., a restraint or limitation of one's own desires or interests)

Self-effacing - having or showing a tendency to make oneself modestly or shyly inconspicuous

Self-reliant - having confidence in and exercising one's own powers or judgment

Self-sufficient - capable of providing for one's own needs; haughty, overbearing

Sensitive - highly responsive or susceptible; delicate; touchy

Sentimental - marked or governed by feeling, sensibility, or emotional idealism

Seraphic - suggestive of or resembling a seraphim or angel

Serious - thoughtful or subdued in appearance or manner; sober

Sexy - sexually suggestive or stimulating; appealing

Sharing - to talk about one's thoughts, feelings, or experiences with others

Shrewd - marked by clever discerning awareness and hardheaded acumen

Simple - free from guile; innocent; modest; naive

Skillful - possessed of or displaying skill; expert

Sober - marked by temperance, moderation, or seriousness; calm

Sociable - inclined by nature to companionship with others of the same species; social

Solid - sound; reliable; serious in purpose or character

Sophisticated - finely experienced and aware; intellectually appealing

Spontaneous - controlled and directed internally; natural

Sporting - of, relating to, used, or suitable for sport

Stable - firmly established; enduring

Steadfast - firm in belief, determination, or adherence; loyal

Steady - not easily disturbed or upset; dependable

Stoic - not affected by or showing passion or feeling

Strong - extreme, intense; ardent; firm

Studious - assiduous in the pursuit of learning

Suave - smoothly though often superficially gracious and sophisticated

Subtle - delicate, elusive; obscure

Sweet - marked by gentle good humor or kindliness; agreeable

Sympathetic - given to, marked by, or arising from sympathy, compassion, friendliness, and sensitivity to others' emotions

Systematic - marked by thoroughness and regularity

Tasteful - having, exhibiting, or conforming to good taste

Teacherly - resembling, characteristic of, or befitting a teacher

Thorough - complete in all respects; having full mastery

Tidy - methodical, precise; neat and orderly

Tolerant - permitting or accepting something (such as a behavior or belief) that one does not like

Tractable - capable of being easily led, taught, or controlled; docile

Trusting - having or showing trust in another

Uncomplaining - accepting pains or hardships calmly or without complaint

Understanding - endowed with understanding; tolerant, sympathetic

Undogmatic - not dogmatic; not committed to dogma (i.e., something held as an established opinion)

Unfoolable -impossible to fool (i.e., deceive)

Upright - marked by strong moral rectitude

Urbane - notably polite or polished in manner

Venturesome - inclined to court or incur risk or danger; daring

Vivacious - lively in temper, conduct, or spirit; sprightly

Warm - secure; ardent; marked by or readily showing affection, gratitude, cordiality, or sympathy

Well-bred - having or displaying the politeness and good manners associated especially with people of high social class

Well-read - well-informed or deeply versed through reading

Well-rounded - fully or broadly developed

Winning - successful especially in competition; tending to please or delight

Wise - marked by deep understanding, keen discernment, and a capacity for sound judgment

Witty - marked by or full of clever humor or wit

Youthful - having the vitality or freshness of youth; vigorous

Neutral Traits

Absentminded - tending to forget or fail to notice things

Aggressive - marked by combative readiness

Ambitious - having a desire to be successful, powerful, or famous

Amusing - giving amusement; diverting

Artful - using or characterized by art and skill; dexterous

Ascetic - austere in appearance, manner, or attitude

Authoritarian - of, relating to, or favoring a concentration of power in a leader or an elite not constitutionally responsible to the people

Big-thinking - tendency to think about doing things that involve a lot of people, money, effort, etc.

Breezy - airy, nonchalant

Businesslike - serious, purposeful

Busy - full of activity; bustling

Casual - feeling or showing little concern; nonchalant; informal

Cautious - careful about avoiding danger or risk

Cerebral - primarily intellectual in nature

Chummy - quite friendly

Circumspect - careful to consider all circumstances and possible consequences; prudent

Competitive - inclined, desiring, or suited to compete (i.e., to strive consciously or unconsciously for an objective)

Complex - having many parts or aspects that are usually interrelated; complicated; intricate

Confidential - entrusted with confidences

Conservative - marked by or relating to traditional norms of taste, elegance, style, or manners

Contradictory - involving, causing, or constituting a contradiction (i.e., logical incongruity)

Crisp - concise and to the point; lively

Cute - attractive or pretty especially in a childish, youthful, or delicate way

Deceptive - tending or having power to cause someone to accept as true or valid what is false or invalid

Determined - characterized by determination (i.e., the act of deciding definitely and firmly)

Dominating - dominant; domineering

Dreamy - quiet and soothing; delightful, ideal

Driving - acting with vigor; energetic

Droll - having a humorous, whimsical, or odd quality

Dry - not showing or communicating warmth, enthusiasm, or tender feeling; uninteresting; plain; aloof

Earthy - practical, down-to-earth; unsophisticated

Effeminate - having feminine qualities untypical of a man

Emotional - markedly aroused or agitated in feeling or sensibilities

Enigmatic - of, relating to, or resembling an enigma; mysterious

Experimental - of, relating to, or based on experience or experiment; tentative

Familial - of or relating to a household or family; homey; domestic

Folksy - homespun; having or showing an unpretentious informality

Formal - following or agreeing with established form, custom, or rules

Freewheeling - free and loose in form or manner

Frugal - economical; careful in the management of money or resources

Glamorous - full of glamour; excitingly attractive

Guileless - innocent, naive

High-spirited - characterized by a bold or energetic spirit

Hurried - going or working at speed; hasty

Hypnotic - readily holding the attention

Iconoclastic - tendency to not conform to generally accepted standards or customs

Idiosyncratic - peculiar; eccentric

Impassive - unsusceptible to or destitute of emotion; apathetic

Impersonal - withdrawn; having or showing no emotional warmth or interest in others

Impressionable - inexperienced; easy to influence

Intense - extreme in degree, power, or effect; passionate

Invisible - discreet; not readily seen or noticed

Irreligious - lacking religious emotions, principles, or practices

Irreverent - lacking proper respect or seriousness

Maternal - of, relating to, belonging to, or characteristic of a mother; motherly

Mellow - pleasant, agreeable; laid back

Modern - being or involving the latest methods, concepts, information, or styles

Moralistic - characterized by or expressive of a narrow moral attitude

Mystical - impossible to prove, understand, or explain by either the senses or intelligence

Neutral - not decided or pronounced as to characteristics; indifferent

Noncommittal - having no clear or distinctive character

Noncompetitive - not inclined towards or characterized by competition or rivalry

Obedient - submissive to the restraint or command of authority; willing to obey

Old-fashioned - adhering to customs of a past era; outmoded

Ordinary - being of the type that is encountered in the normal course of events; normal

Outspoken - direct and open in speech or expression; frank

Placid - serenely free of interruption or disturbance

Political - involving or charged or concerned with acts against a government or a political system

Predictable - behaving in a way that is expected

Preoccupied - lost in thought and unaware of one's surroundings or actions; distracted

Private - preferring to keep personal affairs to oneself

Progressive - liberal; not bound by traditional ways or beliefs

Proud - feeling or showing pride

Pure - having exactly the talents or skills needed for a particular role; immaculate; innocent

Questioning - skeptical; inclined to doubt or question claims

Quiet - calm; gentle; easygoing

Religious - scrupulously and conscientiously faithful; zealous

Reserved - restrained in words and actions

Restrained - not excessive or extravagant

Retiring - reserved, shy

Sarcastic - given to the use of sarcasm; caustic

Self-conscious - conscious of one's own acts or states as belonging to or originating in oneself

Sensual - devoted to or preoccupied with the senses or appetites

Skeptical - relating to, characteristic of, or marked by skepticism (i.e., an attitude of doubt or a disposition to incredulity either in general or toward a particular object)

Smooth - amiable, courteous

Soft - lacking firmness or strength of character; feeble

Solemn - marked by grave sedateness and earnest sobriety

Solitary - not gregarious, colonial, social, or compound

Stern - having a definite hardness or severity of nature or manner; austere

Stolid - having or expressing little or no sensibility; unemotional

Strict - stringent in requirement or control

Stubborn - justifiably unyielding; resolute; mulish

Stylish - conforming to current fashion

Subjective - arising out of or identified by means of one's perception of one's own states and processes

Surprising - of a nature that excites surprise (i.e., a taking unawares)

Tough - capable of enduring strain, hardship, or severe labor

Unaggressive - not aggressive; not given to fighting or assertiveness

Unambitious - feeling or showing a lack of ambition (i.e., desire to achieve a particular end)

Unceremonious - not ceremonious; informal

Unchanging - constant, invariable

Undemanding - not requiring much time, effort, or attention

Unfathomable - incomprehensible; impossible to understand

Unhurried - not hurried; leisurely

Uninhibited - free from inhibition; boisterously informal

Unpatriotic - not feeling or showing love for or devotion to one's country

Unpredictable - tending to behave in ways that cannot be predicted

Unreligious - having no connection with or relation to religion; involving no religious import or idea

Unsentimental - not marked or governed by feeling, sensibility, or emotional idealism

Whimsical - characterized by whim or caprice; especially: lightly fanciful

Negative Traits

Abrasive - causing irritation

Abrupt - rudely or unceremoniously curt

Agonizing - causing agony (i.e., intense pain of mind or body)

Aimless - without aim or purpose

Airy - affected, proud

Aloof - removed or distant either physically or emotionally

Amoral - having or showing no concern about whether behavior is morally right or wrong

Angry - feeling or showing anger (i.e., a strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism)

Anxious - characterized by extreme uneasiness of mind or brooding fear about some contingency; worried

Apathetic - having or showing little or no interest, concern, or emotion

Arbitrary - marked by or resulting from the unrestrained and often tyrannical exercise of power

Argumentative - given to argument; disputatious

Arrogant - exaggerating or disposed to exaggerate one's own worth or importance often by an overbearing manner

Artificial - imitation, sham

Asocial - not social; rejecting or lacking the capacity for social interaction

Assertive - disposed to or characterized by bold or confident statements and behavior; aggressive

Astigmatic - showing incapacity for observation or discrimination

Bewildered - deeply or utterly confused or perplexed

Bizarre - strikingly out of the ordinary

Bland - dull, insipid

Blunt - insensitive

Boisterous - noisily turbulent; tumultuous

Brittle - lacking warmth, depth, or generosity of spirit; cold

Brutal - cruel, cold-blooded; harsh

Calculating - marked by prudent analysis or by shrewd consideration of self-interest; scheming

Callous - feeling or showing no sympathy for others; hard-hearted

Cantankerous - difficult or irritating to deal with

Careless - negligent, slovenly

Charmless - unpleasant and without charm or interest

Childish - marked by or suggestive of immaturity and lack of poise

Clumsy - lacking tact or subtlety

Coarse - crude or unrefined in taste, manners, or language

Colorless - dull, uninteresting

Complacent - marked by self-satisfaction especially when accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies

Complaintive - prone to complain

Compulsive - of, relating to, caused by, or suggestive of psychological compulsion

Conceited - having or showing an excessively high opinion of oneself

Condemnatory - expressing strong criticism or disapproval

Conformist - following or seeking to enforce prevailing standards or customs; opposing or avoiding unconventional thinking and behavior

Confused - being perplexed or disconcerted

Contemptible - worthy of contempt (i.e., the act of despising)

Conventional - lacking originality or individuality; trite

Cowardly - being, resembling, or befitting a coward (i.e., one who shows disgraceful fear or timidity)

Crafty - adept in the use of subtlety and cunning

Crass - having or indicating such grossness of mind as precludes delicacy and discrimination

Criminal - guilty of crime; disgraceful

Critical - inclined to criticize severely and unfavorably

Crude - marked by the primitive, gross, or elemental or by uncultivated simplicity or vulgarity

Cruel - disposed to inflict pain or suffering; devoid of humane feelings

Cynical - having or showing the attitude or temper of a cynic (e.g., contemptuously distrustful of human nature and motives)

Decadent - characterized by or appealing to self-indulgence

Deceitful - deceptive, misleading

Delicate - weak, sickly; fragile

Demanding - requiring much time, effort, or attention; exacting

Dependent - relying on another for support

Desperate - having lost hope; suffering extreme need or anxiety

Destructive - designed or tending to hurt or destroy

Devious - not straightforward; deceptive

Difficult - hard to deal with, manage, or overcome

Dirty - morally unclean or corrupt

Disconcerting - causing embarrassment

Discontented - dissatisfied, malcontent

Discouraging - causing someone to feel less confident or less hopeful

Discourteous - lacking courtesy; rude

Dishonest - characterized by lack of truth, honesty, or trustworthiness; unfair, deceptive

Disloyal - showing an absence of allegiance, devotion, obligation, faith, or support

Disobedient - refusing or neglecting to obey

Disorderly - engaged in conduct offensive to public order

Disorganized - lacking coherence, system, or central guiding agency

Disputatious - inclined to dispute; controversial

Disrespectful - showing a lack of manners or consideration for others

Disruptive - disrupting or tending to disrupt some process, activity, condition, etc.

Dissolute - lacking restraint

Dissonant - marked by dissonance; discordant; incongruous

Distractible - when attention of the mind is easily distracted by small and irrelevant stimuli

Disturbing - causing feelings of worry, concern, or anxiety

Dogmatic - characterized by or given to the expression of opinions very strongly or positively as if they were facts

Domineering - inclined to exercise arbitrary and overbearing control over others

Dull - tedious, uninteresting

Egocentric - self-centered, selfish

Enervated - lacking physical, mental, or moral vigor

Envious - feeling or showing envy (i.e., painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage)

Erratic - characterized by lack of consistency, regularity, or uniformity

Escapist - relating to avoiding an unpleasant or boring life by thinking, reading, etc., about something more exciting or fun, especially something that could not really happen

Excitable - capable of being readily roused into action or a state of excitement or irritability

Expedient - governed by self-interest

Extravagant - lacking in moderation, balance, and restraint

Faithless - not to be relied on; untrustworthy; disloyal

False - not genuine; intentionally untrue

Fanatical - marked by excessive enthusiasm and often intense uncritical devotion

Fanciful - marked by fancy or unrestrained imagination rather than by reason and experience

Fatalistic - having or showing a belief that the future is determined and cannot be changed

Fawning - seeking or used to seek approval or favor by means of flattery

Fearful - causing or likely to cause fear, fright, or alarm especially because of dangerous quality

Fickle - marked by lack of steadfastness, constancy, or stability; given to erratic changeableness

Fiery - easily provoked; irritable

Fixed - firmly set in the mind

Flamboyant - excessively showy

Foolish - showing or marked by a lack of good sense or judgment

Forgetful - inclined to forget what one has learned or to do what one should

Fraudulent - characterized by, based on, or done by fraud; deceitful

Frightening - causing fear

Frivolous - marked by unbecoming levity

Gloomy - lacking in promise or hopefulness; pessimistic

Graceless - lacking a sense of propriety; immoral

Grand - lavish, sumptuous

Greedy - marked by greed; having or showing a selfish desire for wealth and possessions

Grim - ghastly, repellent, or sinister in character

Gullible - easily duped or cheated

Hateful - full of hate; malicious

Haughty - blatantly and disdainfully proud

Hedonistic - devoted to the pursuit of pleasure

Hesitant - slow to act or proceed (as from fear, indecision, or unwillingness)

Hidebound - having an inflexible or ultraconservative character

High-handed - having or showing no regard for the rights, concerns, or feelings of others; arbitrary, overbearing

Hostile - marked by malevolence; having or showing unfriendly feelings

Ignorant - unaware, uninformed

Imitative - imitating something superior; counterfeit

Impatient - not patient; restless or short of temper especially under irritation, delay, or opposition

Impractical - not practical; impracticable; idealistic

Imprudent - lacking discretion, wisdom, or good judgment

Impulsive - prone to act on impulse

Inconsiderate - careless of the rights or feelings of others

Incurious - lacking a normal or usual curiosity; uninterested

Indecisive - not decisive; inconclusive; irresolute

Indulgent - willing to allow excessive leniency, generosity, or consideration

Inert - sluggish

Inhibited - not confident enough to say or do what one wants

Insecure - beset by fear and anxiety; not confident or sure

Insensitive - lacking feeling or tact

Insincere - not sincere; hypocritical

Insulting - giving or intended to give offense

Intolerant - unable or unwilling to endure

Irascible - marked by hot temper and easily provoked anger

Irrational - not using or following good reasoning

Irresponsible - having or showing a lack of concern for the consequences of one's actions

Irritable - easily irritated or annoyed

Lazy - disinclined to activity or exertion; not energetic or vigorous

Libidinous - having or marked by lustful desires; lascivious

Loquacious - given to fluent or excessive talk; garrulous

Malicious - having or showing a desire to cause harm to someone; given to, marked by, or arising from malice

Mannered - having an artificial or stilted character

Mannerless - lacking good manners; impolite

Mawkish - exaggeratedly or childishly emotional

Mealymouthed - not plain and straightforward; devious

Mechanical - without thinking about what you are doing, especially because you do something often

Meddlesome - given to meddling (i.e., to interest oneself in what is not one's concern)

Melancholic - tending to depress the spirits; saddening

Meretricious - superficially significant; pretentious

Messy - extremely unpleasant or trying; slovenly

Miserable - causing extreme discomfort or unhappiness; being likely to discredit or shame

Miserly - marked by grasping meanness and penuriousness

Misguided - led or prompted by wrong or inappropriate motives or ideals

Mistaken - wrong in what you believe, or based on a belief that is wrong

Monstrous - having the qualities of a monster (i.e., a threatening force; of unnatural or extreme wickedness or cruelty)

Moody - subject to moods; temperamental

Morbid - abnormally susceptible to or characterized by gloomy or unwholesome feelings

Muddleheaded - mentally confused; bungling

Naive - deficient in worldly wisdom or informed judgment; credulous

Narcissistic - of, relating to, or characterized by narcissism (i.e., egoism, egocentrism); e.g., extremely self-centered with an exaggerated sense of self-importance

Narrow - illiberal in views or disposition; prejudiced

Narrow-minded - not willing to accept opinions, beliefs, behaviors, etc. that are unusual or different from one's own; not open-minded

Negativistic - having an attitude of mind marked by skepticism especially about nearly everything affirmed by others

Neglectful - given to neglecting; careless, heedless

Neurotic - behaving strangely or in an anxious way, often because one has a mental illness

Nihilistic - holding a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are unfounded and that existence is senseless and useless

Obnoxious - odiously or disgustingly objectionable; highly offensive

Obsessive - excessive often to an unreasonable degree

Obvious - very noticeable especially for being incorrect or bad

Odd - differing markedly from the usual, ordinary, or accepted

Offhand - done or made offhand (i.e., without premeditation or preparation; extempore)

One-dimensional - lacking depth or complexity; superficial

One-sided - limited to one side; partial

Opinionated - firmly or unduly adhering to one's own opinion or to preconceived notions

Opportunistic - taking advantage of opportunities as they arise (e.g., exploiting opportunities with little regard to principle or consequences)

Oppressed - burdened by abuse of power or authority

Outrageous - violent, unrestrained; going beyond all standards of what is right or decent; deficient in propriety

Overimaginative - excessively imaginative (e.g., devoid of truth)

Paranoid - characterized by suspiciousness, persecutory trends, or megalomania; extremely fearful

Passive - lacking in energy or will; lethargic

Pedantic - narrowly, stodgily, and often ostentatiously learned

Perverse - turned away from what is right or good; corrupt

Petty - marked by or reflective of narrow interests and sympathies; small-minded

Pharisaical - marked by hypocritical censorious self-righteousness

Phlegmatic - having or showing a slow and stolid temperament

Plodding - proceed slowly or tediously

Pompous - having or exhibiting self-importance; arrogant

Possessive - manifesting possession or the desire to own or dominate

Predatory - inclined or intended to injure or exploit others for personal gain or profit

Prejudiced - resulting from or having a prejudice or bias for or especially against

Presumptuous - overstepping due bounds (as of propriety or courtesy)

Pretentious - characterized by pretension (e.g., making usually unjustified or excessive claims)

Prim - stiffly formal and proper; decorous; prudish

Procrastinating - habitually and/or intentionally putting off the doing of something that should be done

Profligate - wildly extravagant; shamelessly immoral

Provocative - serving or tending to provoke, excite, or stimulate

Pugnacious - having a quarrelsome or combative nature; truculent

Puritanical - : of, relating to, or characterized by a rigid morality

Reactionary - relating to, marked by, or favoring reaction; especially: ultraconservative in politics

Reactive - done in immediate response to something especially without thinking or planning

Regimental - of or relating to a regiment; dictatorial

Regretful - full of regret (i.e., sorrow aroused by circumstances beyond one's control or power to repair)

Repentant - experiencing repentance (i.e., the action or process of repenting especially for misdeeds or moral shortcomings)

Repressed - characterized by restraint

Resentful - full of resentment; inclined to resent (i.e., to feel or express annoyance or ill will at)

Ridiculous - arousing or deserving ridicule; extremely silly or unreasonable; absurd, preposterous

Rigid - inflexibly set in opinion

Ritualistic - stressing the use of ritual forms; adhering to or devoted to ritualism

Rowdy - coarse or boisterous in behavior; rough

Ruined - bankrupt, impoverished; devastated

Sadistic - taking pleasure in the infliction of pain, punishment, or humiliation on others

Sanctimonious - hypocritically pious or devout

Scheming - given to forming schemes; devious

Scornful - full of scorn; contemptuous (i.e., manifesting, feeling, or expressing deep hatred or disapproval)

Secretive - disposed to secrecy; not open or outgoing in speech, activity, or purposes

Sedentary - lazy; not doing or involving a lot of physical activity

Selfish - concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself

Self-indulgent - excessive or unrestrained gratification of one's own appetites, desires, or whims

Shallow - lacking in depth of knowledge, thought, or feeling

Shortsighted - lacking foresight

Shy - sensitively diffident or retiring; reserved

Silly - exhibiting or indicative of a lack of common sense or sound judgment; frivolous

Single-minded - having one driving purpose or resolve; determined, dedicated

Sloppy - slovenly, careless; disagreeably effusive (i.e., marked by the expression of great or excessive emotion or enthusiasm)

Slow - lacking in readiness, promptness, or willingness

Sly - lightly mischievous; roguish; furtive; dissembling

Softheaded - having or indicative of a weak, unrealistic, or uncritical mind

Sordid - marked by baseness or grossness; vile; meanly avaricious; covetous

Steely - harsh and threatening in manner or appearance

Stiff - stubborn, unyielding; harsh, severe

Strong-willed - very determined to do something even if other people say it should not be done

Stupid - marked by or resulting from unreasoned thinking or acting; senseless; vexatious, exasperating

Submissive - submitting (i.e., to yield oneself to the authority or will of another; surrender) to others

Superficial - concerned only with the obvious or apparent; shallow

Superstitious - of, relating to, or swayed by superstition (i.e., a notion maintained despite evidence to the contrary)

Suspicious - disposed to suspect; distrustful

Tactless - marked by lack of tact (i.e., a keen sense of what to do or say in order to maintain good relations with others or avoid offense)

Tasteless - having no taste; insipid; dull

Tense - feeling or showing nervous tension

Thievish - given to stealing

Thoughtless - lacking concern for others; inconsiderate; reckless

Timid - lacking in courage or self-confidence

Treacherous - likely to betray trust; unreliable

Trendy - marked by ephemeral, superficial, or faddish appeal or taste

Troublesome - difficult, burdensome; giving trouble or anxiety; vexatious

Unappreciative - not giving recognition or thanks for something

Uncaring - lacking proper sympathy, concern, or interest

Uncharitable - lacking in charity; severe in judging; harsh

Unconvincing - not convincing; implausible

Uncooperative - marked by an unwillingness or inability to work with others

Uncreative - lacking originality of thought; not productive of new ideas

Uncritical - showing lack or improper use of critical standards or procedures

Unctuous - having, revealing, or marked by a smug, ingratiating, and false earnestness or spirituality

Undisciplined - lacking in discipline or self-control

Unfriendly - not friendly (e.g., hostile, unsympathetic; inhospitable, unfavorable)

Ungrateful - showing no gratitude; making a poor return

Unhealthy - of a harmful nature; morally contaminated

Unimaginative - having or showing a lack of imagination or originality

Unimpressive - not attracting or deserving particular attention, admiration, or interest

Unlovable - incapable of inspiring love or admiration; not having attractive or appealing qualities

Unpolished - not polished (i.e., characterized by a high degree of development, finish, or refinement)

Unprincipled - lacking moral principles; unscrupulous

Unrealistic - not realistic; inappropriate to reality or fact

Unreflective - unthinking, heedless

Unreliable - undependable, untrustworthy

Unrestrained - immoderate, uncontrolled

Unstable - wavering in purpose or intent; vacillating; characterized by lack of emotional control

Vacuous - marked by lack of ideas or intelligence; inane

Vague - not thinking or expressing one's thoughts clearly or precisely; vacant

Venal - originating in, characterized by, or associated with corrupt bribery

Venomous - spiteful, malevolent

Vindictive - intended to cause anguish or hurt; spiteful; vengeful

Vulnerable - open to attack or damage; assailable

Weak - not firmly decided; not factually grounded or logically presented; ineffective, impotent

Weak-willed - not having the determination that is needed to continue with a difficult course of action

Willful - obstinately and often perversely self-willed

Wishful - according with wishes rather than reality

Zany - strange, surprising, or uncontrolled in a humorous way

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

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astrologydray · 29 days ago

Text

Pallas through the degrees

Each degree gives Pallas a specific tone—some degrees make you a warrior strategist, others a silent psychic, a healer, or a visionary. These tell us how your brain sees the world’s patterns… and how you’re built to solve what others can’t.

0° – Bold and raw strategist; you jump into problems instinctively.

You trust your first hit of intuition and usually nail it before others finish processing.

1° – Strong-willed and fiercely independent in thought.

You’re devoted to your own logic and don’t wait for validation.

2° – Steady, grounded thinker; your intelligence moves slow but deep.

You don’t miss anything—especially when money, loyalty, or long-term value is involved.

3° – Mentally flexible and witty; you process everything through language and vibes.

You’re sharp in conversations and catch subtle patterns quickly.

4° – Deeply intuitive; your intelligence is emotionally rooted.

You read people’s moods and hidden needs without them ever saying a word.

5° – Creative problem solver with childlike spark.

Your strategy often involves humor, art, or playful genius.

6° – Precision thinker; you can spot the flaw in a system instantly.

You’re wired for service, health, and smart solutions that actually work.

7° – Balanced, aesthetic thinker; you see symmetry and fairness in everything.

You solve relational issues with clarity and grace.

8° – Intense psychological strategist.

You’re gifted at seeing what’s not being said—and using that to shift the whole dynamic.

9° – Expansive thinker; your wisdom is philosophical or global.

You’re great at connecting patterns across time, cultures, and beliefs.

10° – Structured, executive strategist.

You organize thoughts into blueprints for success—you’re made for leadership.

11° – Abstract thinker with a gift for innovation.

You’re a mental rebel, always scanning for a smarter, freer way forward.

12° – Quiet mystic; you receive patterns through feeling, not logic.

You download wisdom from the subtle or spiritual realm.

13° – Laser-focused and unshakable.

You’re not afraid of chaos—you can find the center and take control.

14° – Clever, adaptable, and always three steps ahead.

You’re a mental shapeshifter who solves problems with a joke or a twist.

15° – Charismatic and radiant thinker.

You shine when you’re expressing your vision creatively or publicly.

16° – Skillful, steady, and rooted in logic.

You’re great at mastering the basics and building smart, sustainable results.

17° – Diplomatic mind; you can charm and out-think at the same time.

You keep things fair but always strategic.

18° – Powerful, intuitive, and emotionally complex.

You work behind the scenes and can dismantle a problem from the inside out.

19° – Bold belief-based thinker.

You fight with facts and fire—and your opinions usually stick.

20° – Wise beyond your years with a CEO brain.

You apply ancient logic to modern goals, and people trust your judgment.

21° – Inventive thinker with a rebellious edge.

You challenge every norm and usually win.

22° – Quiet and fated intelligence.

Your wisdom feels karmic—almost like you’ve been solving the same soul puzzle for lifetimes.

23° – Imaginative strategist with a dreamy edge.

You solve problems through visuals, feelings, or fantasy worlds that make more sense than reality.

24° – Functional brilliance; you create efficiency like it’s art.

Your logic is beautiful, earthy, and helpful.

25° – Dramatic, compelling thinker.

You perform your intelligence and captivate people in the process.

26° – Deep strategist with a love of hidden systems.

You see patterns in power, pain, and transformation—and know how to work with all three.

27° – Visionary problem solver; you teach others how to think bigger.

Your wisdom is bold, clear, and influential.

28° – Structured and legacy-driven wisdom.

You’re here to make real moves with your mind and leave a mark through strategy.

29° – Karmic closure; you’ve been carrying this sacred intelligence across lifetimes.

Your pattern recognition is profound, and your solutions often feel final, fated, or deeply healing.

#astro notes #astrology #birth chart #astro observations #astro community #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology degrees #astro #astroblr #astrology content #astrologyposts #asteroids in astrology #astrology aspects #astrology insights #zodiac #zodic signs

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Title: Intoxicated.

Pairing: Yandere!Fae King x Reader (OC).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Non/Con -> Dub/Con, AFAB!Reader, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Orgasm Denial, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

His chambers reeked of honey and lavender.

A stark improvement when compared to the raw stench of sweating bodies and animal fervor that’d hung over the celebrations still raging on in his banquet hall, but strong thick enough to turn your stomach, still choking enough to leave your head spinning, your vision distorted and dark around the edges. A thick, lilac smoke clouded the air, courtesy of the herbs smoldering in jars of stained glass on a nearby windowsill – only adding to your current haziness. It went without saying that none of it, of course, was aided by the clever, slender fingers slowly drawing lazy circles into your clit, the stimulation too much to block out entirely but not nearly enough to bring you any real satisfaction. It was hard to be frustrated, though, when you considered who that stimulation was coming from.

Aisling had positioned himself behind you, propped against the ornate headboard of his almost comically oversized bed. Two long, hoofed legs stretched out on either side of you – flecks of golden pollen still dusted over his dark fur. His chest was bear and cool where it pressed into your back, and his unoccupied hand alternated between wrapping snuggly around your midriff and prying your thighs apart when they attempted in-vain to shut. His touch, like most other things about him, left much to be desired. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent here, how much time had passed since he carried you out of those wretched rituals his kind called revelries, but couldn’t have been any longer than a few minutes, even if it felt like a small eternity lapsed by every time you let your eyes droop shut. He prided himself on his adeptness in all things frivolous and pleasurable, and you couldn’t imagine him taking this long to bring you to climax.

“I’ve grown quite fond of your meekness, you know.” His voice was a deep rumble, less a string of words and more a prolonged, inflected purr. Cold lips ghosted over the curve of your ear, and his fingers found a new pattern; one with enough force behind to it make your head lull forward, a slight whimper slipping past your grit teeth as the loose knot in your core began to tighten. “At first, it was rather irking to realize I would never be able to make love to you under the light of the full moon to the accompaniment of my finest bards, but I think I’ve come to like how—” A quirk of his wrist, a strange crescent-like motion. You withered against him, your hips bucking stiltedly into his hand. “—reserved your kin tend to be. It feels more intimate, locking ourselves away like this. Like we share a common secret.”

That fucking smell. The sickening sweetness of it seemed to claw and tear at your lungs, to lodge itself in the hollows of your skull and send a warm, steady pulsing down the length of your spine with every slight movement of Aisling’s fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, your hands kneading at the silk of his sheets as the knot sitting in your core coiled ever-tighter, as you came so, so close to that—

As Aisling pulled away, his touch skirting over the inside of your thigh before forcing two fingers into the dripping entrance of your cunt. You couldn’t bite back the fractured whine that bubbled past your lips, arching your back as he spread and curled his digits inside of you. “Still,” he went on, sighing in mock-disappointment. “I feel like our relationship has been far from reciprocal, as of late. I do adore taking care of you, and I don’t mean to sound unthankful, but—” Another pause, another sigh. “I am beloved to all folks of the land and air, worshiped by the valleys and mountains alike, and dearest to all beings with the wisdom necessary to appreciate true beauty. Why is it that the one I cherish most so evidently detests my very existence?”

“Be—” A broken moan cut you off, draw out by a particular scissoring motion of his fingers. It was a fight to find your voice again. “Because you’re a fucking prick.”

“Your honeyed praises will have to wait, for now.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, but the friction was too soft, too half-hearted to do anything. His lilac smoke seemed to claw its way down your throat and dislodge a pathetic string of whimpers and mewls, filling the new vacancy with a sort of… a sort of liquid heat, strong enough to leave you panting and hot enough to have you squirming against him, eager to get that much closer to his frigid body. Your desperation earned a melodic laugh from Aisling, a tender nuzzling of his cheek against yours. “Oh? Do you have something you’d like to ask for, little fawn?”

He forced a third finger into your terribly empty cunt, and something inside of you seemed to break open. “Please, Aisling, I—” You paused, gasped as his fingers curved against the clenching walls of your pussy. “I need to cum. I can’t take another—”

Whatever you might’ve said dissolved into a broken, pained moan as he drew back entirely, his slick-stained hand moving to your chin and tilting your head back, his lips finding your own before your shock could fade into hurt. Pointed, cat-like fangs burrowed into your bottom lip as his rough tongue laved over your own, the gesture less of a kiss and more of an attempt to permanently attach a part of him to a part of you. His taste was one of fresh fruit and sugared cream, and by the time he pulled away, you were panting, heaving, clambering to stay as close as him as you possibly could, to get as much from him as you possible could. Aisling only laughed as you rushed to straddle him, taking your face in both hands and pulling you into another long, lingering kiss – his mouth just as sweet as his poisons.

“Such a beautiful song,” he muttered, pulling back far enough to speak, but not leaving quite enough distance to disguise the crooked smile spread across his lips.

“Perhaps, by the time we’re finished, you’ll love me enough to deserve to.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere fae #yandere monster #yandere oneshot

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 2 months ago

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Curse Your Name

𖤐❝The Preachers Daughter❞𖤐

❥Vampire Ateez x fem reader

❝What is destined cannot be avoided.❞

Masterlist + Visualizers

✫彡wordcount: 9k

(✯◡✯)genre: yandere, fantasy, smut, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: see general warnings in the masterlist: injuries, blood + drinking said blood + hard ons from said drinking of said blood, fear, supernatural elements, age gap (reader mortal/ateez over 300 years old😭), unbalanced power dynamics, forced smooches, fictional religion, soulmate au

➯a/n: and so it begins *evil laughter*

✫taglist✫(i can't think of something clever help lmao) @spenceatiny18 @gigglensnort @londonbridges01 @soobieboobiebaby @killerwaifu @stayatinykatsy @onyxmango

✩index: veil walking - an advanced spiritual technique when your soul leaves your body and takes you somewhere else. Caethnor dialect: ka - spoken before or after a sentence to make it more serious or stern. ba - spoken before or after a sentence to make it softer. mi - added after someone's name to show affection.

there will only be a few instances where i use an entirely made up language but when i do the translation will be written next to it {like this}

❝Drink from me and live... forever.❞

MDNI.

𖤐❝Fate cannot be changed.❞𖤐

Caethnor is a lucky village.

The river that flows in a near circle around the community is beautiful and provides protection and resources. Water grass and marine life are plentiful, even in winter months one could break through a shallower part of the water and fish. There is only one main bridge into and out of the town.

Not only that, it is a good two week journey from the capital of the realm. From the home of the cruel and disinterested High King and his council. You've only had the displeasure of seeing one of them in your lifetime, back when you were a child.

The homes are generational, built by the inhabitants close ancestors. Wood and cobblestone is the extent of the materials. Even then, cobblestone is only on the walkways and floors. Besides one building.

The church that stands at the back of the town. It's built completely of cobblestone.

That's where you almost always are.

And that's where you are now.

Ever since you spilt your first blood, you were wed to The Goddess. That was a good few years ago now. But you still felt like a piece of you was missing. The part that everyone said was filled when they met their soulmate.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts and closing your eyes. If you weren't fulfilled with having The Goddess as your soulmate, you just needed to pray harder. That's what your father said.

You're kneeled by the window on the second floor, hands clasped when —

The fluttering of wings makes you a peek an eye open, thinking that you're imagining things like you did in your childhood.

"Oh... Elhyna, li'hora," you whisper as you open both your eyes, watching the large feathered creature hop around on the window sill. You reach out slowly when you see the scroll on its foot, "long travels...?" When you grasps the paper, it flies away; its job complete. {Oh... Hello, bird.}

You hum as you look down at it. It's clearly good quality parchment, and it's sealed with red wax stamped down with the sigil of the realm. You've never seen it in real life before now, only in the old and withering books in the churches library.

"Pa!" You yell through the window to the man who's tending to the offering bowl next to the river. "A messenger bird came! It has a red seal, should I-"

"I'm on my way!" You swear you've never seen the middle aged man run so fast, he's back inside the building before you even blink.

You're sitting down with Tihilda when he busts into the room, panting and waving for you to hand over the scroll you're inspecting.

"Hand it here," he huffs, rolling up the sleeves of his white robe.

He quickly breaks the seal and unravels it, his face becoming dimmer with each word he reads. "What does it say?" Tihilda coughs as she attempts to stand, and you're there quickly with some cooling tea.

As you hold it for her, you look back towards your father. "Pa?" He's sweating. He looks like his heart is about to fail.

He crumbles it up and tosses it in the fire. "We should begin gathering some offerings to the High Council."

You see now why he was so frightened. Their species is superior to humans. They even feed on your kind. You briefly remember your encounter with the royal Lieutenant many years ago, and it makes you shiver.

"Is King Seon-"

"Ka don't speak that devil's name in this holy house!" His yell makes you jump back, holding Tihilda's ever trembling hand.

"Sorry, Pa..."

"Go, go and do ten prayers. Beg that The Goddess did not hear you summon him to you."

As you exit the room with your head lowered, Tihilda sighs. "Preacher," she shakes her head, "you are too hard on that poor girl. It is not her fault she is fated in such a way."

"She is fated to no one. She promised herself to The Goddess-"

"You don't think that will save her, do you?"

They're in a stalemate for a good moment before his shoulders slump. He makes his way to the table, helping her with the teacup she struggles to hold still enough to drink from.

"I would rather first die than let that be her fate. Let those... false men be her soul mate. I promised her mother..."

"The Goddess does not care about human promises."

"So you've said." He sets the cup down carefully and looks to her, "you still have not seen any change in her future?"

"Not since the day she was born. It is always the same. You know this. Fate cannot be changed." When he says nothing, she continues, "what did the messenger bird bring us?"

"Three of the High King's royal council will arriving in two days time. They expect five sacrifices."

"Five... Oh, heavens. How will we tell everyone?"

He hesitates, "it said not to. The smell of fear t- it taints the smell, it said. They will choose their own offerings."

"It's time to tell your daughter the truth. She cannot-"

"She never has to know. She needn't even meet the retched men. Her encounter with the Lieutenant was enough fright for a life time. We got lucky."

The old woman scoffs, "lucky."

𖤐❝Don't try to put on a brave face.❞𖤐

With a grunt of effort, the men slide the preacher's podium across the cobblestone, revealing a wooden hatch door on the floor.

Your father, since there was no discernible leader of this village, he was the closest thing to such. He gathered you all in the church pews where you would worship together, and told you all that some of the High Council would be here in 'two days time.'

Panic was immediate, but he stressed the fact that they would not be hurting anyone. They just wanted some offerings. Just to be sure, though, children would be hiding in the basement with the Goddesses trusted sisters.

You were one such sister.

It was the very early hours of 'two days time' later, and you had younger boys help you prepare for the councils arrival.

"Thank you, Oswin," you hum as he pulls up the hatch, a cloud of dust coming up with it. "Sweet heavens, when was the last time anyone went down here?"

"I heard," Cynble clears his throat, waving his hand to disperse the dust, "last time anyone was in here was last time the High King was here. About, what? Fifty something years ago?"

"That's what my mother said, her grandmother was one of the Kings meals," Oswin hands you a lantern, a frown on his face.

"My father said the same. The last time they came with warning, everyone hid," you gulp as you take a step down the old stone stairs. "Will you both be joining us in the basement? Don't try to put on a brave face. There is no one to impress."

"I will, yes." Cynble nods quickly, "my little sister as well. She doesn't even know the tales of Vampires, she thinks this is just a practice for if we get invaded."

"Mayble?"

"Yes- aaah!" The teen yells as a rat runs past you all, grabbing onto his friend's arm. "Woooooah, shit, that scared me!" He laughs with a hand on his chest, making you shake your head with a smile.

"We can see." You grin lightly as you look around the room. It has a few dusty beds. A few crates with old blankets on them, clearly used as furniture a few decades ago. "Oswin, will you be joining?"

"No, I traded my spot for my big sister."

"Why would you do that? She's an adult, we're supposed to be hiding children," you give him a questioning look as you hand him the lantern.

As he explains, you gesture for Cynble to help you in pushing the beds together.

"I heard that women and girls taste better to Vampires. Like how humans prefer sweet wine over bitter. A traveler once told me that a Vampire walked right by him even when he was bleeding, so it could drink from his wife. I have a feeling that your father isn't telling us everything, and that blood will be spilt. No- no offense meant, I just mean that, isn't it strange that the High Council would come all the way out here and not feed?"

"I agree." You cough as you yank the blankets off of the straw mattresses, going on as you gather the ones on the crates as well. "I know that my father is not telling us the truth of everything. But I do believe he is doing what he deems best."

You take the lantern and lead them back up the stairs, "we can make room for you, Oswin mi. Don't fret."

𖤐❝Sevalin bou, solenya.❞𖤐

"Down you come," you smile as the toddler waddles down the stairs, "you're so fast!"

It was near mid-day, and with no idea of when the councilmen would arrive; you all decided it was best to get into place sooner rather than later.

You had spent the morning hours cleaning the decrepit room, making it as comfortable as possible. You had it fairly well lit, dusted and swept and blankets back in place after being knocked clean.

All of the (two) babies of the village are laid on the bed with the two other nuns. The handful of toddlers are playing with one another, and the smaller group of teenagers sit along the walls.

All together, it was around twenty people in the basement.

The toddler, Mayble, was the last one. "There you go, sweetie," you pat her head as she successfully joins you at the bottom of the stairs.

You look up, meeting your father's eyes, "we won't be able to hear, but keep it to a minimum anyways, okay? Vampiric hearing is no joke."

You only nod. You're afraid of what's to come; but you don't dare show it with all of the children looking to you and the other sisters for strength.

"Sevalin bou, solenya" he smiles, sadly. {I love you, only child}

"Sevalin bou, Pa."

You turn as the door is shut, covering your eyes as dirt comes down with it. You hear the podium being slid back into place, and after that it's just muffled voices of the congregation.

"(Y/n)," Mayble pulls on your long skirt, "will you tell me a story while we wait?"

𖤐❝The more blood, the stronger the scent.❞𖤐

It was many hours later at this point, you had concluded from the amount of oil that had been burnt up in one of the lanterns. With a sigh, you take a seat on a crate near the few teens who are speaking quietly between themselves.

"Hey," Owsin hums, thankfully having joined his older sister in the basement, "we were talking about soulmates. What about yours?"

"Mine?" You chuckle softly, "no, I don't have one. Neither does Sister Brea or Sister Magiah. We're fated to serve The Goddess."

Sarin, his sister, tilts her head. "Really? No soulmate? And you're okay with that ba?"

"I can't imagine having a soulmate anyways," you smudge the truth just a bit. You can imagine it. You crave for it. You want to feel the spark that your father always described having with your mother when they touched. You want to 'feel like you're being kissed by a million butterflies.'

You wonder why he told you about that, knowing you would never experience it for yourself.

He only talked of her when he indulged in wine.

"My soul is full serving the Goddess." Oh, you'll have to pray so much for lying.

"You dare lie to me?!"

You hear a booming voice above you, making you all jump. One of the babies begins crying. Then the other.

Then some of the toddlers are whimpering and tearing up. While your sisters quickly tend to the babies, you and the teenagers are running over and shushing the children.

One of them slips away, making a break for the stairs. "Aliah!" You whisper yell, making the boy stop, "c-come. Come here, get away from there."

The boy, in his panic, knocks over the lantern you had on the last step. Thankfully, the flame goes out. But less fortunately, glass is now surrounding the boys bare feet. "Don't move ka." You whisper as you slowly come closer.

With a peek up the stairs, you slowly start scooting the glass away with your hand, making a path for him as you ignore the thud thud thud of your heart.

A loud crash spooks you, along with everyone else, and makes your hand falter in its careful movements. A large shard of glass finds its way to your palm — and you have to slap the other over your mouth to remind yourself not to scream.

You hold your pain and bear through it, clearing the way for the boy less carefully; shoving the glass away with your injured hand. You bite your lip as you move your hand, taking the boys and leading him into the group of kids; which have gathered on the beds you had pushed together. The older children surround them, wiping away their tears and praying with the sisters that the chaos went unheard.

You put your back to the bed and face the stairs, looking down at your hand. Every single movement of your fingers makes another gush of blood spurt out. It's unbearable to leave in.

Scent can't get through stone, right?

Whether it can or can't, you don't have time to deliberate. Your body wants the sharp object out, and now.

With a shaking hand, you quickly pinch the glass and yank it out, throwing your head back as you whimper as quietly as humanly possible.

Another loud crash.

Oswin comes and wraps a ripped piece of blanket around your hand tightly, making your eyes fill with tears at the compression. "Shhhh, the more blood, the stronger the scent." He apologizes with his eyes as he puts more pressure on your hand.

Light suddenly comes in through the cracks of the doors. Another crash. Someone threw the podium.

The door is quite literally ripped from the hinges.

𖤐❝I have waited an eternity.❞𖤐

The three members of the Kings council waltz through the village like they own it — because, technically, they do.

Their subordinates follow behind them loyally, as they make their way to the church at the very back of the town that could be seen from the entrance. Theres no doubt about it, that's where everyone is.

They can smell them.

One of the lower ranking men yanks the door open. The prayers stop. "Kim Hongjoong. Jeong Yunho. Jung Wooyoung." He announces them loudly.

Everyone stands up. Quickly. All of their heads bowed.

"This is certainly one of our smaller villages," Wooyoung nearly rolls his eyes as he counts how many people reside here. So little. So little people, in fact, they all fit in the modest main room of the church. No more than fifty, he sees.

"Indeed." The Lieutenant keeps it short, ignoring all the rest of the people as he makes his way to the man at the podium. "Preacher," he greets.

"My Lord, it's an honor to have you in our humble village-"

"Don't bother lying to me. I can hear your heartbeat."

The man, from his bowed position, pauses.

The Vampire laughs at the sight, high pitched and spooking a fair few of villagers. "Aaah, I know you don't want me here, so I will keep this visit short."

The preacher doesn't say anything, he isn't given the chance to as Hongjoong quickly turns away and starts scanning the standing people. "Sit." He commands, and the floor almost shakes from the sudden amount of people sitting at once.

He walks down the aisle slowly, inhaling through his nose deeply.

Obviously, fear is still clinging to the air. But not nearly as much as it would be if the preacher had told them why they're here. If they knew five of them would meet their maker soon... or wish they had.

But beneath the fear, somewhere far, is something that makes his heart beat.

His heart never beats. It hasn't in a long time.

Someone in here... someone smells beyond appetizing.

"Close the doors." The lackeys are doing so quickly, without question. "This is your entire village?" He turns his head, looking at the sweating man.

"Y-yes-" He chokes against the pressure on his neck, Hongjoong had appeared infront of him in a millisecond. He's lifting him in the air by his throat.

"Preacher, I will tell you this only once. I detest liars."

He lowers him slowly, letting go of his throat, "so tell me," he lifts his lip, showing his elongating fangs. "Is this everyone?"

"Yes, My Lord."

He growls and shoves the man away. Row by row, he makes his way down. Each face of anxiety is inspected as he takes more deep breaths. But the sickly sweet smell is stale. Like it's stuck to the walls.

Yunho and Wooyoung look on with a bit of confusion, taking inhalations of their own. But they can't latch onto what he can.

About halfway through the room, Hongjoong is stopped by Yunho, "Joong."

"What?" He snaps. He's completely abandoned his original task of picking five villagers. He only wants the one who smells like heaven.

"There is no children here. Nor teenagers. They are hiding from us."

He huffs in amusement. He was so distracted trying to pinpoint the smell that he failed to notice that everyone in the room was full grown. The smell might belong to someone who's hiding.

He needs to smell it fresh. He needs to taste it.

He's back at the podium, slim fingers gripping the wood so tightly that it creaks. Staring right in the man's fearful eyes, his begin to turn red. He can smell it clearer, like it's taunting him.

"You dare lie to me?!"

The wail of a child comes muffled in the following seconds. Then another.

"From below us?" Yunho starts looking around the floor with a small smirk. Of course he was right.

"Sneaky, sneaky~" Wooyoung joins in the search.

When one of them knocks over something and it falls with a loud bang! —

Hongjoong stumbles. The smell is stronger. Warmer. He needs it. He needs to have the source in his hands. He bares his teeth, putting all of his weight onto the podium and breaking off the sides of it. "Tell me! Before I eat every beating heart in this room and make you watch!"

"Under the podium." One of the frightened villagers whispers. Just loud enough for one of the nameless men to catch it.

"Under the podium." He repeats as he approaches quickly, grabbing the preacher by the robes and yanking him away.

The scent is growing by the second. More and more and more.

Hongjoong tosses the offending furniture to the other side of the room without a hint of trouble. His red eyes immediately trained on a hatch on the floor.

He rips it from the hinges, throwing it into the pews where people yell and cry as they scramble to move.

He's down the stairs without a second thought —

Yunho bumps into his back as he stalls on the last step, his eyes swirling with red as he gets his first scent of what's been driving the Lieutenant mad.

Golden deadnuts... So potent and sweet, like it can be tasted by the scent alone.

Hongjoong's thick boots slooooowly crush the glass below them as he steps down.

The cries of the children huddled together on the bed get louder. But the Vampires can't be bothered to hear them.

Because all of their senses are honed in on you.

"You..." Hongjoong seems to recognize you. "You were right under my nose."

Here you are. In all of your glory, kneeling on the floor with blood seeping out of the fabric wrapped around your hand. In the same village he begrudgingly left you in all those years ago.

You've grown into a woman in all these years since you unknowingly slipped away from him.

Your two pristine braids have red ribbons in them. He knows that it's a hairstyle for nuns, the color of ribbon correlating to your years of dedication. He knows that red means you were still newly promised to The Goddess, but he can't help but feel like it's for him — for them.

Yunho gulps as his eyes follow a drop of blood down your wrist. Red following red as it taints your dress.

The crimson liquid is soaking your baby blue sleeve and skirt as it drips down.

Your heart is beating so violently. You must be terrified.

You are terrified. Staring at them with wide eyes and instinctual fear making your blood gush from your wound even faster.

Their eyes are screaming 'predator' with their red gaze trained on you.

Before you know what's happening, a pair of cold hands are wrapped around your ankles. Chilling you to the bone even through your thick socks.

As you let out a primal, ear shattering scream, Oswin yells out, "no!" He goes to grab at you, but is quickly slammed to the floor by a soldier.

Hongjoong drags you across the floor, and Yunho yanks you up by your dress' collar as you get to the stairs.

You're entirely too frightened to do anything as they carry you up the short stairway.

"Good Goddess," Wooyoung trips as the smell of your blood floods the ground floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He's next to you in the following second.

The petrified crowd of people is stuck in place as they watch you be dropped to the floor. Be it from fear, or the archers ready to shoot at the first person who moves.

"Hid-," Hongjoong pants from the sheer force he's using to hold himself back, "hiding from your High Council? Who do you think you are?"

You only whine and shake your head, eyes going to your father who's trying to pull himself up from the same ground you find yourself on.

"Plea-" Your pleas are replaced by screams as Wooyoung yanks the impromptu bandage off of your hand. "No, no, no!"

Your flailing form is held down by Hongjoongs weight as he straddles your hips.

Both of Yunho's hands cradle your bloody arm like a piece of fine china, rolling down your sleeve; his eyes shining as his fingers come in contact with your skin for the first time. A broken moan parts his lips.

Your struggles have stopped, your fear temporarily replaced by confusion as his skin on yours makes you feel like you're floating.

Wooyoungs hand on yours has the same effect.

Hongjoong catches onto what's happening, and his hand cradles your heated cheek. He nearly collapses on top of you.

What in the world is this feeling?

"Grentizia," Yunho prays as he tilts his head back, looking at the ceiling of the church, "we have finally found her! Oh!" Another moan spills from his lips as his fingers slide in your blood.

Your eyes are still wide with a mixture of shock and fear when his face is suddenly in front of yours, "we're finally complete... I have waited an eternity."

Wooyoung's tongue twitches out of his mouth hesitantly before it dives into your hand, he holds it with his gingerly as he laps up every droplet that's pooled on your palm and in between your fingers.

You try to yank it away, try to turn away from Hongjoong's hand as it cups your cheek, try to look anywhere but Yunho.

You can't hear your father's weak protest over the thudding of your heart. This time, not from fear. This time, from... you can't tell. But as the blue haired man uses your eyes as a window into your soul, you find your skin buzzing from their direct touch.

All you can manage is, "w-what?" You don't have a soulmate. You don't. You don't. You're fated to serve The Goddess —

Yunho's lips upon yours stop any and every thought that you have. It's fleeting, but it's filled to the brim with more tingles.

He pulls back, laughing breathily, "I can't believe it. I can't believe it! Forgive me, beautiful, but I cannot wait another second or I fear I will lose what's left of my mind."

Before you can even blink; his tongue is on your arm, licking up your blood like he's starving, making you squeal and squeeze your eyes shut.

With them shut, you don't see Hongjoong looking down at you with a blush on his cold cheeks; watching his younger brothers feed on you. Watching your face scrunch up with disgust and... something more.

He leans, his breath on your face is the only warning you get before his lips are on your own. He kisses you like he's trying to leave a mark.

The little pleased moans of the others make him impossibly impatient. Usually he has better self control than this, he's the second oldest after all. "Apologies, little one." But you smell so tempting. He lifts your other arm and kisses the skin of your forearm gently before sinking his teeth into you.

A little gasp is all that leaves you. Your mind is entirely fried.

As are theirs.

You taste like nothing ever has. No blood or food compares. They'd rather starve to death than to ever go back after having their first taste. They feel the sparks they felt on their skin ten fold as they travel on their taste buds, down their throats. They settle in their stomachs with your blood like a crackling bonfire.

Wooyoung's heart feels like it might be beating just a bit too fast. Like one more push would make it explode. Along with that, he feels his pants tightening. He would fuck you right here on the floor of the worship building if he had his way. His entire being is eager to please you, to get your heart pumping more and more blood.

Yunho isn't fairing any better, sucking and kissing every little bit of crimson liquid he can get off of his fingers and your arm. He'd hold you down for Wooyoung if it meant getting a chance to see your blissed out face moaning for them. If it's anything like the view right now, he'll probably die a second time. His gaze never leaves your face as you close your tearful eyes, lips forced apart by little whines and weak protests.

Hongjoong is... Oh, Hongjoong... The oldest of the trio feels like a fledgling again. The entire situation has his cock painfully hard and his skin irritatingly warm. The final piece of their puzzle, right here infront of him. He'd hate himself for not sniffing you out earlier if his brain was anywhere near functioning; but it's not. Their final soulmate, held under his weight. He can't wait to see how the others react —

His brain comes back to him.

He hates himself for the next word he utters, but he knows it has to be done lest they send you into an even deeper shock. "S-stop."

The other two stop their feeding frenzy with soft growls rumbling up their throats. They don't want to stop. But they know better than to go against the chain of command.

Even though it felt like it did, the world did not stop around the four of you.

The royal soldiers had gotten everyone out of the basement with a small bit of struggle, and were now shifting on their feet; the smell of your blood was clearly enough to make them thirsty.

Hongjoong blinks a few times as he surveys the horrified looks of the townspeople. A smirk spreads across his bloody lips — "boo."

The simple word spooks a great deal of them, the broken silence is enough to make them jump.

He and Wooyoung laugh at their reactions, the latter playing idly with your numb fingers.

Yunho places his hand on your cheek slowly, looking down at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You're breathing heavily, eyes dazed as you force yourself to keep your eyelids open. The sweat on your skin doesn't stop the way he strokes your face adoringly. "Where have you been hiding, huh?" He chuckles quietly, the question clearly rhetorical.

Hongjoong is tired of all of these eyes on you. "Everyone out." He turns to you, then back quickly, "leave the preacher. Boys, you can feast."

Villagers start scrambling quickly, yells and cries of panic as the handful of lower ranking Vampires chase them out of the church.

It takes a good few moments for the chaos to clear, and he joins Yunho and Wooyoung in inspecting you slowly while everyone clears out. "How did I miss you, little one?" He hums, rubbing your waist leisurely, "you've grown a great deal. I forget that humans do that."

"Please, My Lords-" Your father whimpers from the bench he'd been drug to.

Wooyoung is a blur as he runs to the man, slamming a hand on either side of his shoulders, cracking the wooden pew. "You speak when we tell you to speak!! Be thankful I don't rip your tongue out for lying to us!"

Hongjoong begrudgingly gets off of your shell-shocked form, meandering his way over. "Yah," he tilts his head, and Wooyoung moves out of the way, still glaring daggers at the man who's responsible for hiding you. "I remember you now, preacher."

Yunho can't help himself, and gives your wound one chaste lick; giggling quietly at the way you shiver. He takes his jacket off, and maneuvers your limp body around to drape it around you. "W-what?" You mumble hoarsely, deep in the throes of distress.

"Shhh," he coos, carefully lifting you up. He sits you in his lap, holding back a moan and forcing himself to ignore his hard-on as he focuses on grounding you.

"Yes, I remember clearly." Hongjoong squats infront of the man, your blood still on the corner of his mouth; he licks it up slowly. "You lied to me not just today, but all those years ago. Tsk," he has to stop himself from gutting him on the spot. "You're lucky the High King didn't come himself, you'd be eating your own guts by now."

You gag at his words, slowly coming back to yourself. You feel like you're in the middle of a bad dream and a waking state. Nothing is making sense. But at the same time, it's all clicking into place.

Hongjoong looks over his shoulder, standing up. "Look who's back," he smiles in a way that might be kind. "Hello ba," he repeats your words from so many years ago, "isn't that how you said it, little one?"

You stare up at him jaw-dropped, wide-eyed. Yunho's finger brushing away a stray hair on your face feels like an electric shock, and you jolt; immediately looking down at the floor.

"T-toriel?" Your chin wobbles, and you gulp loud enough for the Vampires to hear. You look to your father, who's washed in an aura of shame and fear. "Ba sev vela toriel?" {What's happening? I don't know what's happening?}

Wooyoung leans over the back of the bench, now behind your father, and looks at him expectingly. "Sounds like she's asking you a question, Papa."

Yunho doesn't care what you're saying or about the fact that he doesn't understand it, he leans his head against yours and revels in the sound of your voice.

"(Y/n) mi, s-sev en'mali, I'm so-". {(Y/n), from my very soul, I'm so-}

"Waaaaah, holy shit!" Wooyoung reaches the conclusion first, grabbing the back of the man's neck and yanking him back. "You told her she didn't have a soulmate."

Yunho and Hongjoong both have realization fall over them. Yunho gets sad for you, while Hongjoong gets angry.

"Oh, I really have to kill you now."

"No, please!" You cry as soon as he takes a step towards him. "Please, My Lords! Have mercy on us, please, please, we-" Yunho's hand finds it way over your mouth as you plead, and your heavy hands try to pry it away.

"Is this true, preacher?" He asks, his voice lined with a barely concealed edge, "you told her she has no soulmate?"

"My Lords, you have to understand-"

"Little one?" Hongjoong looks to you, and Yunho removes his hand; instead holding your shoulder. "Tell us."

"My Lord, I- I have no soulmate, it's true. The seer- ah!" A small yelp slips up your throat as Yunho's touch once again shocks you. He has a pleased smirk. "...I'm promised to The Goddess."

"You are promised to us," Wooyoung quickly corrects you. "Your father has been spinning bull shit." He yanks the man again, and you face away as he fights back a yell of pain.

"Lying to the crown is betrayal. And betrayal is only punishable by death," Hongjoong goes to step again, but you find the strength to lift your arm and grab his hand with both of yours.

They watch on with slight disbelief as you slide from Yunho's lap and kneel, your head lowered and your arms trembling as you hold onto him. You force yourself to ignore the tingling spark.

"Please, Lord Kim..." His heart is beating again. How are you doing that? "Have mercy. I beg of you. I kneel before you-"

"Oh, stop it." He'll give in if you don't.

"Lord, he's all I have in the world. Please, spare his life..." You find yourself sobbing as you hang onto the Lieutenants hand, "I'll do anything."

The three Vampires look to each other, and glee overcomes them. "What was that?" Hongjoong smirks, and any hope your father had is shattered.

"I'll do anything..." You sniffle, your head still facing the floor when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. They haul you up quickly, and you yelp in surprise.

It's Wooyoung, and he's carrying you down the aisle towards the door. "You'll be coming home with us."

𖤐❝Little one is brave.❞𖤐

In exchange for your father's life, you're now packing up all of your Earthly possessions.

It's hard with only one hand really functioning properly, but you've refused Yunho's help. You don't want anything from them. You don't know what kind of trickery Vampires can do, but you're certain that's what the tingles you felt are a product of.

Your parents wouldn't lie to you your entire life over something so monumental, right? Tihilda wouldn't go against her oath to help people find their soulmates, right?

The door to your home opens without warning, and Wooyoung waltzes in like he owns the place (again: because he technically does).

You sniff as you look away from him, going back to painstaking folding your laundry on the floor.

"Yah," he points to Yunho, who's sitting in the corner watching you, "are you making her do that all on her own?"

"She wouldn't let me help." He shrugs, leaning back as he watches him unroll his medical pouch.

"Come here, (Y/n)," he hums as he pulls out a vial of liquid, sitting a few feet away.

"No." You whisper, but they catch it. Of course they catch it.

Wooyoung sits up stalk straight, blinking at you in disbelief for a moment. Nobody is brave enough to say 'no' so plainly to any of them. Then, he feels disrespected. You may be one of his soulmates, but he's not going to let that slide. "No?"

It's your turn to straighten up, freezing as if you realize what you've said. "I-"

"Get over here, now."

He doesn't have to say anything more, you're sitting in front of him as fast as humanly possible; your head hung low. "I'm deeply sorry, My Lord..."

"Mhm," he tuts his tongue, grabbing your wrist gently and making it face palm up so he can inspect your injury.

You didn't like him before, when he was insufferably loud — but now you certainly don't like him, when's he's quiet with a barely concealed anger. "Forgive me ba," you expect a back hand or scolding or anything other than what you get, really.

"Give me a kiss," he says plainly, "and I'll forgive you."

You can hear Yunho chuckling from behind you, he's taken your place in folding up your clothes and packing them into the bag they've provided.

"A ki-ss?" You glitch internally. You never kissed anyone — well. You've never initiated a kiss with anyone.

"That's right." You hate that his smug little smile makes you want to do it even more.

You sigh, grab his jaw, and turn him to the side before giving him a quick peck to the cheek and retreating just as fast as you came in.

"Wow," he giggles, "you loopholed me. Very clever! I'll take it~" He carefully pulls your hand forward, "now, let me clean this up, yeah?"

You don't have much choice in the matter, but it's heartwarming that he waits for you to be ready for the sting of the disinfecting liquid. You hold back your noises of pain and breathe deeply, closing your eyes.

"Little one is brave." Hongjoong's voice makes you jump, looking to him with wide eyes for just a moment before you go back to staring at the floor like you were earlier.

Yunho tosses him the bag. "Anything else you want to take, beautiful?" You don't have much, all of your possessions fit into the one bag.

"Oh," you go to grab the item that comes to mind, but Wooyoung has a tight grip on your wrist as he applies a healing salve.

"Stay still."

"What is it?" Hongjoong asks, leaning against the wall with the bag in hand, "I'll get it."

You bite your lip. You don't want anyone else touching it. "I'll get it, My Lord."

The moment Wooyoung is done wrapping your hand, you hurry to the bed and reach between the cot and the mattress, feeling around blindly.

They watch curiously as you find what you're looking for.

A small dagger with an engraving on it that they can't quite catch even with their heightened gaze before you sheath it.

"A knife?" Wooyoung asks baffled, "aren't you a pacifist? Y'know, cause the whole nun thing?"

"Yes," you shake your head, "but I don't like being defenseless."

Hongjoong laughs softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the door after you clip the weapon onto the side of your boot. "You're full of surprises, huh?"

𖤐❝You sure she won't spear us, Joong?❞𖤐

Much to your displeasure, you were on the back of a horse with Yunho sat behind you; going on two hours now.

Although you insisted that you had never ridden a horse before, and therefore had no way of knowing how to use it to run away, they seemed to think you would use it to bolt. But, truthfully, where would you even go if you did run?

You spent a good hour thinking about that over the lazy chatter of the Vampires around you. They knew where your home town was, clearly. And thankfully a lot of people were left unscathed, you saw as you were lead to the gate. Your father among them.

If you were to go back, it would undoubtedly bring chaos with you when the men who were convinced they were your soulmates gave chase.

If you were to take your chances and try for another village, you had little hope that they wouldn't follow you there as well. Being entirely honest with yourself — you didn't even know what villages or even cities were around you. You never even thought of leaving Caethnor.

You were plucked out of your safety zone and placed on the back of an animal which you had no way of knowing how to tame, with a royal council member resting his hands on your thighs and two others riding along side you.

You hadn't even noticed when the seemingly endless march came to a halt, you only looked up from the soft brown mane of the horse when you felt Yunho's ever present weight behind you leave.

You look over slowly as he dismounts, and then survey your surroundings. The small group has stopped near a narrow stream, veered off the beaten path.

"We'll stop here for the day, get some rest," Yunho explains as he sees your curious eyes looking around, lifting his hands to you, "come."

You sigh, having no choice but to lean forward and steady yourself on his shoulders as he lifts you from the tall animal. "Thank you, My Lord." Your voice waivers as do your legs while he carefully plants your feet on the ground.

"Oh, she speaks," Wooyoung jests as he leads his horse to the edge of the water, letting it drink as he pets its neck. "I was beginning to think you fell asleep with your eyes open."

"Oh, leave her be," Hongjoong chuckles as he joins him.

The group engages in conversations that you don't bother to listen to as you shuffle to the nearest tree. You lean against the bark and sigh with relief, taking some of the weight off of your weary hips.

How has this become your reality? You went from thinking you had zero soulmate, to beginning to believe you had three Vampires as soulmates.

Every time Yunhos skin brushed against yours, you felt it... the same sparks you felt in the church. And you could no longer write it off as a fear induced hallucination or the tingles of blood loss.

Like you're being kissed by a million butterflies...

You blink your tears away quickly before anyone can see them. You don't want them to ask, because you don't have an answer.

You're just confused. Confused and unfortunately, hungry.

You reach down and slide your knife out of its holder, ignoring the look that one of the soldiers gives you as you start looking around the tress for a suitable branch.

With another sigh, you push off the tree and go to your chosen branch; snapping it off the tree with a small groan of effort.

You settle further down the stream, away from the rest of them, and certainly away from the three councilmen.

You yank off your boots and socks and roll your skirt up at your hips a few times. You can still feel eyes on you, but you pay them no mind as you sit at the edge of the water and dip your feet into the water.

The longer the fish can feel you, the less spooked they'll be when you start trying to catch them.

You're thankful that everyone leaves you alone as you begin sharpening your stick to a deadly point. It would give you time to think, if you were doing that. But you found yourself with a blank mind. Maybe it was still all too much to think about.

"You think she's going to try and drive a stake through us?" Wooyoung nods towards you from where the trio sits along a fallen log.

Hongjoong hums as he moves his gaze to look at you, "no, she's not stupid. She feels it too, I know she does."

"Hey," Yunho starts, "how do you think the others will react? I think San might faint." The others laugh lightly with him.

"Seonghwa is going to be over the fucking moon."

"Mingi more, probably," Hongjoong yawns as he leans his head on Yunho's shoulder, watching as you slowly stand and make your way to the middle of the stream. "He's had to watch her all this time, in his visions. He's going to freak out when he sees her for the first time."

"Do you think she's what he imagined? He said that she's always just a blur. He can only see her soul in those vision."

"She's certainly not what I imagined. The irony is hilarious," Yunho smirks as they observe you watching the water, "I mean come on. A preachers daughter — a nun? Fated to a bunch of Vampires? The Goddess must have more of a sense of humor that we thoug- woah!" He yells as you suddenly stab into the water, your makeshift spear coming back up with a fish on it. "Good heavens!"

You smile down at the fish proudly, once again ignoring everything around you as you make your way out of the water.

"You sure she won't spear us, Joong?"

𖤐❝Death is the most human thing.❞𖤐

The sun is lowering in the sky, the day almost done.

When you started collecting fallen sticks for a fire, a female Vampire named Manon had followed you. After you gave her a questioning look, she said simply, "the Lords told me to keep an eye on you."

She's polite enough to not ask about your situation, and you appreciate that about her as you slowly begin talking more and more.

When you had been getting frustrated with starting the fire, you looked around for help and met eyes with Yunho. Without a word, he stood up and came to the small bundle. A smile on his lips as he produced fire from his fingertip and lit it ablaze. You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop, you had never seen a mage in action.

You were initially the only one around the fire as you cooked your fish; it seemed that the rumor about Vampires being cold blooded was true. The lowering temperature didn't bother them.

Manon was the first to join you, offering you a flask. And with the promise that it was just water, you took it with a small smile.

You were now simply staring into the flames as the sun grew ever lower in the sky. Your brain was allowing itself to think about the situation again. And you don't like that one bit.

Because that meant that you were thinking about the fact that your father, your mother, and Tihilda had all lied to you your entire life. The fact that they knew the answer to why you always said that you felt a part of you was missing, and they withheld it from you.

If they had told you the truth, would you have even wanted it? The reality of being not just one, but multiple Vampires soulmate was daunting. Everything you've heard about them. Everything they've done. What they are.

If they had told you, it might have explained a lot. Your dreams and your hallucinations as a child. They all seemed to link back to the royals.

"What are you thinking about?" Wooyoung asks softly as he lowers himself to sit beside you.

You shove your thoughts far away and clear your throat, "nothing, My Lord."

"Oh, come on," he nudges your shoulder with his light, "we have to spend the rest of our lives together, open up a bit. Or it's gonna be a rough few thous-" He stops himself, faking a cough into his elbow. "Ahem, anyways, what's on your mind?"

You eye him suspiciously for a moment in the corner of your vision. "Uhm," you dig your makeshift spear into the dirt, "just, things... when I was a child, I had these- these dreams? But, they felt like I was really there. And sometimes, they would happen. And now, I think it's because of you all."

He listens intently, leaning back on his hands.

"When I was a girl, I had a dream of Lord Kim visiting our village. And, a few days later, he did."

"Ah, that's what he was talking about? How you've grown?"

You hum affirmatively, tracing a pattern into the soil.

He watches you close, every move you make. "What else have you dreamt of as a child?"

You hesitate for a moment, like you weren't expecting him to continue the conversation. "Well," you exhale softly. May as well converse with the man that The Goddess has slapped you in the face with. "There's... there was a spirit, a man, who always came to me in my dreams- in my waking hours too. As I grew older, he went away. He would tell me to stay where I am, that my fate would come to me. For a while, I thought they were divine visions. That I was an oracle," you stifle a laugh, "I followed the villages witch around asking her how I would know when my fate found me."

"You sound like you were a cute kid," he smiles your way, and his heart starts thudding as you return the gesture. He gulps before asking, "did the man tell you his name?"

You look up at the darkening sky as you file through your memories. The dreams and the hallucinations all stopped when you first bled, when you became a woman. It was quite a few years ago by now. "Uhm," you drag on, "I don't rem-"

𖤐 You were eleven. Sitting on the steps of the village healer's home while your mother got her weekly treatment. You were sad. She wasn't getting any better.

There was a presence beside you. There was no one there. "Your aura..." It was the same voice you heard at the river. "Why are you sad, sweet child?" His voice was clearer. It had become so with the years.

"I'm not supposed to speak to spirits," you had said as you clasped your hands in prayer. When you are haunted by the spirit: pray — that is what you were told to do. "I bid you leave me be ka."

"I am no spirit, I am you and you are me. I can feel your sadness. We can feel it." There was the ghost of a hand, just the faint feeling of it. It was large and cold, it wrapped around yours in a way that felt... comforting. "I might ease your pain."

You were told that spirits were dangerous. Conniving and malevolent. That they would weasel into your heart and then take advantage of you. You knew this. But this... spirit — he didn't feel any sort of crude.

You needed comfort, and there he was.

"My mother," you whispered, "she has fallen gravely ill. She is in such pain, I fear she might not recover."

It was silent for a long moment, but you knew he hadn't left you; you still felt him in the air. "Death is..." He stalled, and you swore you could feel his sigh against your skin. "Should death come for your mother, she will be at peace. She will no longer be in pain after she joins The Goddess."

You take another long pause to register his words. "But... she will no longer be here."

"Does the thought frighten you?"

This was the longest conversation you'd had with the invisible man at the time. You always got spooked or interrupted. He'd asked many times where you were, but you were always too scared to answer should he be malicious.

"Deeply, yes." You hadn't admitted it aloud. Not even to your parents. Death, especially of those close to you, scared you. One of your friends had left the village on a trip with her family, and she did not return with them. Only sadness and grief.

"Death is the most human thing. You should not fear it, sweet child. It is only the beginning..."

The summer sun was beating down on you. His cold hand was still upon yours. "What is your name?" You had asked. Your curiosity had gotten the better of you after his comforting words. Your father said that to speak the name of evil was to bring it to you. But you wanted to know.

"Mingi." He had replied quickly. 𖤐

You turn to Wooyoung after a long moment and find him staring at you.

"Mingi."

His eyes widen at that, "Mingi?" His shock turns into laughter, "oh, oh wow! We thought he was jesting!"

Your brows push together with confusion, "what?"

"I'm sorry," he says through his giggles, "I'm sorry- it's just, that was no spirit."

"How could you know that, My Lord?"

"Because he's the royal seer. He's our soulmate — your soulmate." He watches the cogs turn into your head as you take in the information, going on to explain, "he felt it more than all of us when you were born. He nearly fell over. He started watching over you by veil walking, trying to figure out where you were. He never could, I suppose because he's never been to your village he couldn't place it."

"W-wait, what?" You hesitate, "who's 'all of us'?"

"The council." He states simply, licking his lips as he hears your blood start rushing. "We're all fated together."

You stare out at the horizon, watching the sun inch its way down. You were back to being in disbelief. Two or three soulmates, sure. A few Vampires, you could handle. But you've heard that the High King has seven council members.

"Shocking, isn't it?" He hums, leaning forward, "for us too. Vampires with a human soulmate... The Goddess should know better. I should warn you, beautiful — the King has a large appetite."

Tears are welling up in your eyes, and Wooyoung embraces you even as you try to lean away. He buries his head in your shoulder, arms locked around you. He forces himself to calm down, so close to your pulse point that he could easily take a sip. But he doesn't want to make you even more scared. He just wants to hold you.

The sun is giving its last rays of light, half way below the horizon.

You tilt your head, watching dumbfounded as something starts blocking the sun from below.

The moon.

An eclipse.

The moon is taking over the sun, blocking out its light.

As they align, it swallows the star whole.

The sun becomes void.

𖤐❝THE PREACHERS DAUGHTER❞𖤐

𖤐❝NEXT TIME❞𖤐

You feel like you've never been so exposed in your life.

There's eight pairs of eyes on you, each of which belonging to a Vampire more frightening than the last one you look at.

As you scan the royals slowly, your hand starts trembling. "Do- do I have to, My Lords?"

"Yes," Yunho meets your gaze as you come back to him quickly after taking a peek at the High King. "It's okay ba." He's taking up your dialect in your two weeks together. It makes you slightly less nervous. "We won't let them get out of control."

You take a deep breath and look down at your hands. You pinch the needle tighter and bite your tongue as you prick your finger.

𖤐❝CURSE YOUR NAME❞𖤐

#ateez #ateez smut #yandere ateez #smut fic #yandere fic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fantasy au #ateez fanfic #angsts fic #yandere ateez x reader

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pierroettie · 4 months ago

Text

TWEWY SWAP AU 2/4

I don't have a clever name for this if anyone has any suggestions I'm all ears 🙏

ohh yeah... composer neku.... (click 2 read)

Neku Sakuraba (swapped with Joshua)

Remeber how shitty he was in week one? Imagine that but for the whole game. Whatever experiences Neku had before he became composer made him quite cold hearted and self centered. Neku's shibuya is less superficial, he doesn't feel any need to hide the fact that he doesn't care about other people. Only through choosing Joshua as his proxy to play a game out of sheer boredom, does his heart soften a little more. Edgy emo 15 year old but it's so serious now. I'd say he's a bit more grouchy and self centered.

His relationship with Joshua is about the same, but he is disconnected from the others in the hachiko gang since he won't interact with them as much here. Like I mentioned in Josh's post, their character arcs are parallels anyways so there wouldn't be many changes plot wise. The interesting stuff comes from the other characters (I'm cooking I swear just wait for my shiki and beat posts....)

I'm no game dev but I think the mechanics would be pretty different if neku was the composer instead. For one thing, he doesn't care about clothing so why would he let the dead people shop? I'm not really sure how I would do it, but I think the game would be more music-centric to reflect his character.

In this au, Minamimoto plays the role of Hanekoma. In this case, he's Neku's connection (and also an angel). Their dynamic would be like bickering siblings... older bro Minamimoto... kind of similar to his character in NEO. Sometime in the future, I'll probably make a post dedicated to him as well.

Design Notes:

I've read Nomura's notes on Joshua's design, and he said that his design is deliberately simpler than the rest of the cast, with baggier clothes that might not fit him right, to suggest that there may be something more to his character. I wanted to include those elements while still making sure he's readable as Neku, since his color palette and headphones are just too iconic to change. I'm not really sure if I've achieved that at all, but for now I'm fine with it! I'm not gonna stress over it anymore!!! Still wanted him to be in a kind of sportswear loo, and and I wanted his hair to be less sq enix protagonisty so I made it downturned instead. Both my Neku and Josh designs have the two little hair spikes to match each other :)

ain't that cute

anyways i think shiki will be next! stay tuned 4 more.....

#digital art #art #fanart #twewy #the world ends with you #neku twewy #neku sakuraba #character design #alternate universe #square enix #au #crab canon

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festivating · 3 months ago

Note

what's your favorite gelphie fic?

OOF just one is so hard. here's a few of my favs. though more than being my favorite fics these are my favorite gelphie authors so assume i love everything they've posted!

The Love Club by OrkButch. just delightful. extremely queer and extremely heartfelt. and it has my favorite things ever like grief, healing, learning to be in a relationship, and nuanced portrayals of elphaba & nessa's dynamic. very formative to my perception of book!elphie, i learned a lot about her with this fic even if it's a modern AU!

Wiretapped Life by tinyace. another fic that has aaaaaaall of my favorite things like grief, healing, learning to be in a rel--- you get the gist. also it has nor! more fics should have nor! no but seriously this fic is incredible and has some of the best explorations i've seen on asexuality, aromanticism, gender, queer platonic relationships, and how to navigate a shitload of trauma in a cruel world when you have so much love to give. the gelphie dynamic is so nuanced and the worldbuilding is so intriguing and well done and glinda is a poor little meow meow and agh. could talk about this one forever. also if you've read attrition you will like this one, it has so many similar themes sam and i are always joking our brains are the same lol

The Last True Eminent Thropp by Ridiculous Mavis. ask any gelphie fan who was here before november 2024 for their favorite gelphie fics and they will probably mention ridiculous mavis. read everything on her page, seriously. yes even if it's ff dot net. do it. do it right now. this one is my favorite of hers!

Per Aspera Ad Astra (Through Hardships Towards the Stars) by show_me_the_universe. this one is still unfinished but i have enjoyed it so much! gelphie are so cute and so teenagers and they go through so much and their dynamic with each other is the sweetest thing. also has great dynamics between the charmed circle which it's also one of my favorite things :)

Aftermath by narta_shall_survive. another one where glinda is a poor little meow meow. i read this fic like a year ago and brother it has stuck with me. i love the way glinda is written and it has my FAVORITEEE glinda & crope dynamic. also it blends musical and book in such a smooth way and the prose is so crunchy.

and my saint, she is dancing by Mayverix. this one is extremely clever and soo well written. i adore this author's prose so much. made me ache in the best way possible. the way book!gelphie is captured here is just superb.

oh and of course i love the classics aka gretchenmaurice's works. all of them from the long ones to the most recent ones :)

now!!! i haven't read too many movie fics (yet) but here are two that stuck with me and that i love and have very much informed the way i see and write the movieverse gelphie dynamic.

the faint of heart by Verannode. vampire!galinda. and if that wasn't enough she totally thinks she's in some sort of romcom while elphaba is in a supernatural mystery or something. it's just the best thing ever. the dialogue is so whimsical and hilarious and galinda is incredibly delusional and dramatic and i love her. i've reread this a bunch of times it always makes me laugh.

PERENNIAL by anaphoruh. no joke this fic is one of my favorite ones ever. it's just so. i can't even explain it the way its written scratches my brain in the BEST way imaginable. the prose is so elegant and smooth i want to study it. it's the perfect blend of book and MOVIE which i didn't think was possible. the descriptions are so fun and engaging. the gelphie dynamic is delicious. galinda is insanely rich and elphie is her sugar baby in the most lowkey way possible. i adore it.

now not related to the movie at all. last but not least. there is Emerald City Lies by Beta Nova. listen to me. i would never recommend a fic on ff dot net that was last updated in 2016 if it wasn't worth it. i started reading this fic on a plane and it was so good i literally had to stop reading it so i could savor it. made myself read only one chapter a day and yes it's unfinished and yet i reread it once a year. it's so good.

anyway! thanks for asking <3

#gelphie #answered #fic rec

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roc-haze · 3 months ago

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I have a really rough idea that I think only you, my fave Will writer, will do justice and bring to life ! Inspired by Whatta Man by Salt-N-Pepa, I’m envisioning a 90s themed party! Perhaps reader and Will (intentionally or unintentionally) in matching outfits? I really love the way you write Will and the friendship dynamics, particularly w Becky my qween

Whatta Man | WillNE

Clothes were strewn across the floor and chaos had absolutely ensued in Y/N’s apartment. Up until recently, she had lived with both Arthur and Flo. Flo had found a place she’d absolutely fallen in love with, subsequently moving out and taking her incredible wardrobe with her. Fuck it, I just won’t go.

Great, she thought. Becky will be pissed if I don’t go.

Rummaging through her wardrobe, Y/N pulled together the outfit she’d worn to her friend Ada’s dirty 30’s party. Throwing on the signature Rachel Green fit of stockings, skirt, high neck tee and a handmade Central Perk apron courtesy of her Cricut machine, Y/N met Arthur, Liv and Bach in the kitchen for a fireball shot.

“Well. Hate to break it to you Isaac, but we’re gonna have to break up for the night.” Liv whistled in her direction, wrapping an arm around Y/N as she got within close proximity. Y/N pulled Liv into a sweet hug, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as Liv’s embraced her torso.

Isaac looked over, mock look of disgust on his face. “So who does that leave me with? Arthur?”

“Give me a wig and a couple of shots. I could be a solid replacement.” Arthur laughed, pouring out a shot for everyone. “Alright, give us a toast Y/N.”

Keeping an arm around Liv, the two girls raised their shot glasses and led the group in a toast. “It’s been a hectic few months, but I have a feeling 2025 is our year. Here’s to all of us - may we stay positive and test negative.” They all clinked their glasses, downing their drinks.

Isaac looked at Liv. “I’ll have to get tested if I spend the night with Arthur.”

The group erupted in laughter.

Walking into the party, they were met with all sorts of costumes. TLC’s ‘Waterfalls’ was blasting, Chip and Freezy were absolutely tearing it up on the makeshift dancefloor. Becky could be seen waving Y/N and Liv over.

“I’ll get us a drink and meet you in one sec.” Liv squeezed Y/N’s arm gently, making her way to the bar.

Y/N ran over to Becky, who was dressed as a spice girl. “Becks… you look stunning.”

Becky pulled her friend into a warm embrace, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I had to go with Sporty Spice.. pretty sure there’s a girl here somewhere dressed as Posh.”

The two stood gossiping before Liv joined, holding her hands together to carry over three cans of gin and soda. “I just saw the Arthur’s messing around with the DJ, I wonder what we’re in for.”

Becky had just launched into a story about the latest episode of her show when Chris walked past, doing a double take.

“That’s really clever, Y/N! I didn’t realise you and Will had coordinated costumes.” He smiled brightly before making his way through the room.

The three girls stood off to the side of the dance floor, puzzled. “Becks, have you seen Will’s costume?”.

“No, I haven’t seen him yet. He can’t be that hard to spot though.” She peered around the room.

Liv stifled a laugh. “Imagine if he’s come as Gunther”.

The girls had spent the next hour dancing, managing to drag Bach, ArthurTV, Cam Kirkham and Chloe onto the dance floor. Both Lux and Tobi had approached Y/N, hyping up her costume and letting her know she had matched Will perfectly. Yet, there was still no sight of the man. Y/N looked to Chloe, using her hands to fan her face.

“I need a minute… it’s getting bloody hot in here.” Y/N made a gesture to the bar.

“I’m right behind you, girlfriend.” Chloe gave her a salute.

Making her way to the bar, Y/N veered off to the side to pull her phone out and reply to a few messages she’d received throughout the night. She was mid text when she felt eyes on her. Looking up, she met Will’s gaze as he made his way over to her.

The lanky Geordie was decked out in a tight cropped shirt with ‘Frankie say relax’ written over it, tan pants and a pair of his signature Converse. He grinned, pulling her into a hug. “You must be the Rachel to my Ross.”

“Well, that depends.” Y/N smirked. “Were we on a break?”.

Will laughed, his smile reaching his eyes. “As if I’d ever let you go.” The blood rushed to Y/N’s cheeks as she blushed. “Pretty sure I owe you a pint from our last night out.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the bar. Will ordered for the both of them, before taking both drinks and finding them an unoccupied chair to sit in.

Seating options were limited, which worked perfectly for Will. They took up real estate on the closest love seat, sitting facing each other, legs touching.

Y/N mirrored Will, pint in one hand and the other resting on top of the sofa. They shared recaps of their weeks, laughing between the two of them. To onlookers, they appeared to be totally giddy over one another.

Becky stood chatting with Cam Kirkham, the two of them analysing the couple in front of them.

“I really like them together! He seems real smitten when she’s around.” Cam said, letting out a playful gasp as Will moved a strand of hair out of her face.

Becky nodded. “You know Harry’s been keeping an eye out.”

“Oh what, Wroetoshaw?”.

“Yeah. I hear he’s in the market for a lass.”

Cam tutted. “Not this one. Lenney’s marriage material.”

Arthur Hill emerged, throwing an arm over Becky’s shoulder. “What are we gonna do about those two? The sexual tension is fucking unreal.”

Cam’s eyes lit up. “Maybe we just throw a spicy song suggestion to the DJ. Might inspire them to pash or something.”

“Ooh, I’ve got just the one.” Arthur made his way over to the DJ, throwing him a song suggestion before being met with a nod and thumbs up. Making his way back to the group, Becky called out. “What’d you suggest, Mr Hill?”

“Salt-N-Pepa. Last time we went out for karaoke, they got steamed and performed their own rendition of it.” Arthur laughed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to show Becky a video of their karaoke efforts.

Meanwhile, Will and Y/N sat on the love seat exchanging anecdotes. Pints abandoned to the table in front of them, Y/N sat with her head resting in her palm. Will mirrored her, his free hand resting on her knee.. pinky fingers just touching.

Moments later, Salt-N-Pepa’s ‘Whatta Man’ flowed through the speakers. The two looked at each other, knowing smiles stretching across their faces. Will stood up, holding his hand out for her to grab. He intertwined their fingers, bringing her to the middle of the dance floor.

They gravitated toward the middle, taking turns singing line for line.

I wanna take a minute or two and give much respect due. His hands are on her waist.

To the man that’s made a difference in my world. She’s grinning up at him, singing directly at him.

And although most men are ho’s, he flows on the down low ‘cause I never heard about him without another girl. He’s tracing circles with his thumb.

But I don’t sweat it because it’s just pathetic, to let it, get me involved in that ‘he said, she said’ crowd. She rests her hands on his forearms.

I know that ain’t nobody perfect, I give props to those who deserve it. And believe me y’all, he’s worth it. He’s searching her eyes for even a hint of reciprocity.

So here’s to the future ‘cause we got through the past. I finally found somebody that can make me laugh. She runs her hands along his arms, resting them on his chest.

“You so crazy, I think I wanna have your baby.” Y/N sings, looking straight at him. She lets her gaze flicker from his eyes down to his lips, and just like that, he’s hooked.

Will keeps one hand on her waist, pulling her in as close as he possibly can. His free hand makes a home in her hair, thumb resting on her jaw. Their lips meet. Y/N leaves one hand on his chest, the other coming up to copy his movements - fingers tugging gently on strands of hair, thumb resting on his jaw. They were pretty much parallel. Mirrored on either side. Very Ross and Rachel of them. Will let her lead, and she was going to savour the moment. Y/N laughed into the kiss, trying to keep her mouth closed and make him wait.

Becky, Cam, Chloe and Arthur Hill stood off to the side, clapping and cheering as their friends kissed for the first time.

Freezy walked past, sussing out the commotion. “Why are we cheering?”. He spoke loudly over the chorus.

“They’ve just kissed for the first time!” Becky shouted.

“That’s not the first time!” Freezy spoke directly in her ear.

Becky furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”.

Freezy pulled up his WhatsApp chat with his editors and Chip, showing Becky the screen.

Chip: Just a heads up boys, should maybe cut this out.

*1 video attachment*

The video showed Will and Y/N on a night out filming pub golf, heavily intoxicated. The two were sitting in a booth together, her head resting on his shoulder. She lifted her head to look up at him, gingerly taking his head between her hands and placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

“What was that for?” Video Will had asked.

“Just felt like kissing a handsome man.” Video Y/N replied, resting her head back on his shoulder. Moments later, George had approached to let them know it was time to move on.

Freezy: Yeah, cut it out. Might be a fun story for their wedding someday though.

Becky stood with her jaw dropped, before a grin slowly took over her features. “Let’s just let them believe this is the first time.”

Freezy nodded. “Yeah, I’ll save that footage for a rainy day.”

——

Author’s note:

Thank you for your request! I LOVED the idea and I hope this is kind of what you envisioned 🤭 I love the idea of a somewhat niche costume so this is probs a bit specific. And thank you, my fave anon!! You are very sweet and I’m glad you enjoy these fics 🥹 I was feelin a little discouraged and you have absolutely made my week 💕

Here’s the playlist I listened to while writing and proofreading this one if you’d really like to immerse yourself in the 90s vibes 🤍⭐️

- Loser by Beck

- Bitch by Meredith Brooks

- Waterfalls by TLC

- Linger by The Cranberries

- Angels by Robbie Williams

- One Headlight by The Wallflowers

- The Look by Roxette

#uk youtuber #willne #willne x reader #will lenney #roc haze #ask roc

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cinnaleaf · 4 months ago

Text

In Your DMs: Left on Read - Ch 2: Sticky Situation

summary: you left jude on read once—but after one reckless night, he’s making damn sure you never ignore him again 💫 | MDNI 18+ | Full Series |

warnings: angst/tension, push/pull dynamic, jealousy/possessiveness, verbal altercation, sexual tension, language, cultural references wc: ~6.3k (approx. 23 minutes) 💋: let’s pretend u didn’t see me post this yday when the tag was in shambles song inspo: Gemini x THEY.

You were hungover, running on a questionable amount of caffeine, and about three seconds away from throwing your pen at your professor’s head. Documentary Production & Storytelling was already your least favorite class this semester, mostly because the professor was an eccentric Spanish filmmaker who smoked way too many cigars and had a tendency to talk in circles. Today wasn’t any different.

“Filmmaking isn’t about aesthetics! Not about perfect shots or clever editing tricks!” He slapped the whiteboard for emphasis, where he’d already written EXPOSE THE TRUTH in all uppercase letters. “It’s about reality! Raw. Unfiltered. Humanity! If you want to make a documentary worth watching, you have to dig beneath the surface.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and tapped your pen against your notebook instead. Expose the truth. The phrase alone made your head hurt. Bri, who was sitting beside you, leaned over and whispered, “So… are you thinking of exposing how you were crying over a toilet bowl this morning?”

You shoved her off you, whispering, “Shut up.”

Tasha, on your other side, barely contained her laughter. “You know what would be crazy?” she murmured, moving her eyes toward the board. “If you just documented Jude and his desperate ass. Now THAT would be exposing the truth.”

You groaned under your breath, shaking your head, but Bri wasn’t done. “Oh my god, imagine! Surviving Thirst: The Jude Bellingham Story.”

She was joking obviously, but the second she said it, the thought wedged into your brain and refused to budge. Your professor turned away from the board, pacing in front of the class like he was on the verge of an epiphany. The smell of cigars mixed with your lingering hangover made you question every life choice that led to this moment.

“You must capture something real!” He threw a dramatic hand in the air. “Something global but deeply personal! A story that goes beyond what people think they know. Something with weight!” He smacked his hands together which made your head pound even harder. “Something that DEMANDS to be told!”

He surveyed the class, eyes burning with intensity. “Tell me, how do we do that?”

Some overachieving wannabe Steven Spielberg shot their hand up. “By finding a subject that resonates with a wide audience but also reveals something deeper about human nature?”

“YES! Now you’re getting it!” The professor spun toward the board and underlined EXPOSE THE TRUTH so aggressively that the marker nearly flew out of his hand. “This is what great filmmakers do! They take what the world thinks it knows and deconstructs it! They rip apart the facade and show what lies underneath! Think about the subjects people obsess over and glorify.” His voice dropped an octave and he scanned the room. “Athletes. Celebrities. Public figures. They are mythologized and turned into icons, but what do we really know about them? What’s behind the curated image?”

He let the question settle in the air before continuing on his artistic yet slightly psychotic tangent. “Your subject must be compelling. It must have global appeal, but you must also find a way to make it deeply personal. You have one week to choose.” He clapped his hands once, signaling the discussion was over. “Class dismissed.”

You sat frozen in your seat as everyone around you started gathering their things.

Athletes. Celebrities. Public figures. It wasn’t a bad idea.. if you had actually considered it.

The thing was, you’d already been around these people your whole life. You knew exactly how the glossy image the world saw was never the full picture. Your dad was the go to plastic surgeon for the rich and famous. He was the man behind half the “natural” beauty people idolized on social media. You saw celebrities in and out of his clinic since you were a kid, some slipping in through the back entrance, others coming in with full security detail, all of them desperate to maintain whatever illusion the industry demanded of them.

You knew the aftermath too. NDAs, secrecy, negotiations over what work could be admitted to versus what would go to the grave. You knew which athletes got regular “maintenance” to keep their bodies in peak condition, which actors booked consultations but never followed through, and which A-listers claimed their glow ups were the work of a ‘strict diet and hydration’ (ahem, Drake.) Miami was also crawling with athletes and you watched how they moved before you were even old enough to drink. You saw the girls they rotated in and out of their lives, the ones they wifed publicly while keeping a different roster on the side. You had dinner with your dad and overheard conversations you weren’t meant to hear. You went to exclusive parties, walked through yachts and penthouses where cameras weren’t allowed, and sat quietly as men with the world at their feet made it clear that nothing was ever enough for them.

People were obsessed with them, but if they knew even half of what you saw, they’d have a lot less to say. Your professor wanted something that resonated globally but was deeply personal. Something that exposed the truth.

Well.

You could do that.

As the three of you walked out of the classroom and into the sundrenched halls of the film building, Bri slung her tote over her shoulder and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, so… I’m thinking of making my documentary about Madrid’s club scene. Like a deep dive into the DJs, bouncers, promoters, and all the fuckery behind the scenes.”

You nodded, already seeing the vision. Madrid’s nightlife was lawless, and Bri was a historian on the subject. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“I know.” She flipped her hair dramatically. “It’s giving investigative journalism.”

Tasha snorted. “More like it’s giving an excuse to party seven nights a week and call it research.”

Bri shrugged. “And what about it?”

You laughed while Tasha transitioned the conversation to go over her own idea. “I think I’m gonna do something about gentrification. Specifically, how it’s affecting Lavapiés and it’s immigrant population.”

You gave her a look of approval. “That’s actually really fucking good.”

“I know. But I’m about to piss off a ton of white people with this one.”

Bri grinned. “Oh, for sure.”

You were still laughing when you all stepped outside in the warm afternoon breeze of Madrid and made your way toward your usual café down the block. You could feel them watching you, waiting for you to speak, and you knew exactly why. You had been quiet about your own project since leaving class, which meant your brain was turning over something serious.

Tasha sighed. “You’re really gonna make us drag it out of you?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your phone back into your bag. “Fine. I’m thinking about documenting athletes.”

That got their full attention. “Athletes?” Bri repeated with interest.

You nodded. “Think about it. People put them on this insane pedestal, but no one really gets to see what their lives are like outside of what they post or what the media covers.” You shrugged. “I’ve seen that side my whole life. I know what really goes on behind the scenes. Why not film it?”

They exchanged a look before Bri asked the inevitable. “And who are you documenting?”

Tasha raised her eyebrow. “Because if you say Jude, I swear to God…”

You shot her a look. “I’m not doing a documentary about Jude.”

Bri smirked. “But he’s in it?”

You sighed dramatically. “I might use him. I might use Santi too. He’s not on Jude’s level but basketball is still a thing here.. so I could get both perspectives.”

Bri gasped. “Oh my god. You’re pitting them against each other in the name of entertainment.”

“I’m not pitting them against each other.”

“You’re definitely pitting them against each other.”

You shook your head but the idea was already taking place in your mind. The contrast between a man at the height of European football and a man who was well known but didn’t live under the same spotlight could make for a very interesting project.

Tasha smirked. “So… who are you calling first?”

After visiting the café, you made your way back to your apartment and stared at your phone, contemplating if this was really the move. Out of the two of them, Jude was the most likely to be the bigger headache and piss you off within the first few minutes of conversation, but you also knew he’d answer immediately. You tapped his contact and one ring was all it took before he answered.

“You finally had a change of heart and decided to stop ignoring me?” His voice came through the speaker, smug and warm. A normal hello would have sufficed.

You blew out a breath, already over it. “It’s not whatever you’re thinking, that’s for sure.”

There was a pause but then he let out a chuckle that made you clench your jaw. “You were thinking about me enough to call me.”

Your eyes nearly rolled out of your skull. “Are you busy or not?” Your attitude was immediate, rightfully so.

“Not for you, pretty girl.”

You ignored the way your stomach twisted slightly at that and forced yourself to focus. “Good. Come to mine. I just sent you the address.”

“See.. now you’re just making it too easy” he teased.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Jude shut the fuck up and just–”

“I’ll be there in twenty” he cut in smoothly, enjoying the chase. “Missed you too by the way.” The call ended before you could respond, making you stare at your phone in disbelief.

Clearly, this was a mistake.

Twenty five minutes had passed by before you finally heard a knock on your door, because of course he had to be late. You took one last deep breath and pulled the door open, only to be greeted with the ugliest Peaky Blinders ass hat you’d ever seen in your life.

You made a face of disgust because the sheer ugliness of his hat offended you. “Absolutely not.”

Jude stood in front of the doorframe, grinning with one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers. “Good to see you too.”

You didn’t acknowledge what he said and instead waved a hand at the monstrosity sitting on top of his head. “What the fuck is this?”

“What?” He asked innocently, reaching up to adjust the hat. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I don’t like it. You look like you started street brawls in 1923.”

Jude laughed and stepped past you, making himself at home. “I look good in this hat.”

You shut the door behind him and shook your head. “No. You look like a fucking 40 year old who snuck on earth in that hat.”

His ego was too big for him to admit to anything other than him looking good in the hat, so Jude wandered further into your apartment, stretching his long legs and taking in his surroundings with ease. “Nice place,” he mused, glancing at the half empty iced coffee cup on the table, an open notebook filled with scribbled ideas, and a stack of filming equipment tucked near the TV. “This where you plot your next move?”

You sighed, already regretting this. “Jude.”

He turned to you with a cocky half smirk on his lips. “Yeah, angel?”

You clenched your jaw. “Come to my room.”

“Damn at least buy me dinner first.”

You refused to give him the satisfaction of a response and instead turned around to walk to your bedroom as he followed behind lazily. Once inside, you shut the door behind you and watched Jude eye the personal confines of your bedroom. It felt strangely intimate having him in your room, especially since it looked like he was taking mental notes on the little details of your life. Your room was a mix of chaos and personality with half packed bags shoved in a corner, polaroid pictures pinned to the wall, books and videography equipment scattered across your desk. Jude walked over and picked up one of your camcorders without asking, testing the weight of it in his hands.

“You always been into this?” he asked, adjusting the focus ring as if he knew what he was doing even though he could barely put on a headset without looking confused.

You crossed your arms. “Why do you care?”

Jude glanced at you, setting the camera back down. “Because I’m nosy.”

Okay. At least he was honest. You inhaled deeply, preparing yourself for the conversation you actually needed to have. “I need you for a project.”

“Is that why you finally decided to hit me up?”

“Jude..” He laughed and stepped closer to you, shifting his body language into something more relaxed. His hands sat in his pockets as he studied your face, waiting. “I have to make a documentary for class. Something with global appeal that’s also personal. So I figured....”

“Ohhh,” Jude drawled, tilting his head. “You figured me.”

You stared at him, trying to explain yourself more in depth, but the words tumbling out of you dug you into a deeper hole. “You’re one of the biggest footballers in the world right now. It makes sense.”

He licked his lips, nodding slightly, but that smug look didn’t leave his face. “So what’s the angle? Exposing me in bed?”

Your nostrils flared as you clenched your fists at your sides. “Jude be serious.”

He grinned and ran his tongue over his teeth, leaning in only slightly. “I’m joking.”

You tried to push past the fact that he was actively and succeeding at getting under your skin. “I want to capture what your life is actually like. The side people don’t see.”

Jude didn’t respond right away and continued to study your face to figure out what part of this project you weren’t admitting to just yet. “And you think I’m just gonna agree to that?”

You shrugged. “I think you’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“What if I don’t want to do it?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then I’ll move on.”

“That easy?”

“That easy,” you echoed, even though you both knew damn well that wasn’t the case for reasons beyond the project.

The silence following after was charged with unsaid thoughts. Jude sat on the edge of your bed with his hands clasped in front of him, still watching you with an unreadable expression, but then he reached out for you and wrapped his fingers around your waist, tugging you just close enough that you had to catch yourself with your free hand on his thigh. Your breath caught, but you didn’t move away.

He looked up at you, voice low. “Why me?”

You swallowed, refusing to acknowledge the feeling of his skin against yours. “Because you’re a global name. And because people don’t actually know you.”

His grip on your wrist tightened, just for a second. “And you think you do?”

You really should’ve pulled away and put distance between you but you stayed there instead, feeling the heat of his body meld with yours from the way his leg caged you into his personal space. He smelled too good. He was too close. He was looking at you like he knew exactly what was running through your head and he liked it.

“Jude…” you said quietly.

“Hm?”

“Let go.”

His smirk deepened, but he let go slowly to test the waters. You took a very small step back and pulled the hem of your shirt down in order to forget the sensation of him touching you. “Think about it. If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. I’ll find someone else.”

Jude leaned back slightly, propping himself up on his hands. “Like who?”

You tilted your head. “Santi.”

Jude’s whole demeanor changed with the mention of Santiago. He didn’t hate him, but he definitely didn’t like him always being around you, regardless of if you were ‘just friends’.

“Santi?” he repeated with flexed jaw muscles.

“Obviously he’s not on your level but...”

“But?” Jude laughed loudly and shook his head. “Fucking hell. You really know how to push my buttons don’t you?” You smirked, because for once, you were the one getting under his skin.

“Maybe. But only when it’s something I want.” You were taunting Jude with a game of chess, willing him to figure out his next move and decide what was next.

“What if I want something out of this too?”

“Like what?”

“You.”

You knew he wasn’t joking based on the way he blew up your phone after your hook up, thinking he had a right to your attention. Jude had always been persistent, confident, and way too aware that he was the type of man who always got what he wanted. There were women chasing him all over the world and for some reason, you were the one he decided to bother the most. It would’ve been easier if the sex had been forgettable, but it was far from that and every time you saw him, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Now you were finding yourself in a sticky situation where you wanted access to his life without giving him too much access to yours. It made sense in your head originally, but you also knew Jude wasn’t the type to back off once he set his sight on things. When he wanted something, he chased it on or off the pitch, and he usually succeeded every time.

You gave him a poker face, refusing to give in so easily. “That’s cute Jude, but that’s not on the table. I don’t even think you truly know what you’re asking for.”

“Yeah I do.” he said with eyes still piercing into yours. “You just don’t like hearing the truth.”

He always flipped it back on you for control. It pissed you off, but worst of all...it was kinda working. “Are you gonna agree to this or not?”

“I don’t know..” he said, stroking his index finger over his facial hair. “Seems like a pretty big commitment. Are you sure you want me in front of your camera, angel?” You cut your eyes at him, giving him a nasty side eye. The nerve of this man to be standing so close to you, going back and forth in a hat that made him look like he was from the prohibition era was really starting to irk you.

“I want a documentary subject” you corrected, pressing your hand against his chest to create distance.

Jude caught your wrist before you could move away and captured you back into his space to remind you of how he could pull you right back in if he wanted to, especially behind closed doors. “Uh huh..” he murmured. “But what’s in it for me?”

Your breaths were a bit uneven by this point, but you forced yourself to keep composure. “The world gets to see a different side of you.”

Jude wasn’t impressed with your answer in the slightest and chose to push you even more. “Yeah? Or you get to keep me on a leash while you figure out whatever the fuck this is between us?”

“There is no this.” You gestured between you and him for emphasis. Before you even had time to finish the sentence, Jude scoffed a laugh at you, unconvinced with your statement. He loosened his fingers around your wrist and slid lower to graze his thumb against your thigh. You felt it everywhere. Heat rose in your stomach and kept rising both higher and lower the longer he touched you. He was barely doing anything, but it was a deliberate touch. He knew exactly what he was doing and knew you wouldn’t step back this time.

“This is professional” you said quietly with your tone not sounding confident at all.

Jude tilted his head. “Professional,” he repeated, brushing up against your skin again before he finally stopped. “You really think you can keep it that way?”

Your heart may as well have been in your ass but you refused to let him see it. “Yes.”

Jude wanted to push a little further just to see what would happen but instead, he leaned back to give you space. “Alright then. I’ll do it.”

The funny thing about exposing truth and reality is that sometimes it comes when you least expect it. A few sharp knocks on the door echoed through your apartment walls, startling you. You hadn’t ordered anything for delivery and all of your roommates had keys so it couldn’t have been them. Jude raised his eyebrow curiously. “Expecting someone?”

“No.” you muttered, knowing he was about to be an inconvenience no matter who was standing on the other side. You weren’t in the mood for any surprises, especially not with the world’s most annoying man sitting comfortably on your bed, grating your nerves. There was no version of events where he sat back quietly and minded his business because Jude’s entire personality revolved around being a pain in the ass.

You walked toward the door and kept your hand on the knob for a split second, opening it just enough to crack the door open and peek through, only to see Santiago standing tall with a brown bag in one hand and a worn food container that his abuelita passed down to him when he moved to Madrid. Your stomach rumbled slightly from smelling the scent of home. Whatever he had smelled like the kind of food you grew up eating that couldn’t be easily found in Madrid, no matter how many restaurants claimed they knew what they were doing with Caribbean flavors.

Santi flashed his bright teeth, putting last night’s drama from the party at the very back of your head. “I thought you might need this after all the rum.”

You shifted to block the doorway from view. “Thanks. You didn’t have to...”

“Yeah, but I wanted to. Brought some ropa vieja (stewed beef), arroz (white rice), frijoles (beans) and arroz con leche (rice pudding).” Santi glanced at your frame through the tiny crack in the door. “You’re looking better than I thought you would.”

Another voice....a very annoying voice spoke from your side of the door.

“She always looks good.”

You closed your eyes in horror, feeling your entire soul leave your body. After a deep breath, you turned your head back toward your room to see Jude standing a few short steps behind you. Santi shifted his legs, moving around because for some reason, athletes could never stay in place like a normal person…including Jude. “Didn’t realize you had company.”

You turned back toward Santi quickly. “They were just leaving.” You didn’t want to tell him outright who was behind the door, but Jude was going to make sure Santiago knew exactly who was in your apartment. He had no intention of making things easy.

“Leaving??” he asked while standing directly behind you, making it painfully obvious who was behind the door with his accent. “I thought we were still having a chat?” He cracked the door open wider so Santi could see him towering over you in the intimate space. Santi was chill and didn’t react right away because he was already familiar with the way Jude moved.

“Didn’t know you two were hanging out.”

“We aren’t.” You cut your eyes at Jude over your shoulder to give him a warning to not make things any worse than it already was. “He was just here for something.”

Jude wrapped his hand around your waist with a lot of gall and a sly smirk, ignoring how you were trying to block him from Santi’s full view. You weren’t doing a good job at it considering both of them were more vertically blessed than you were. “Yeah... something.” Jude inserted himself back into the conversation boldly.

Santiago laughed and kept his laid back demeanor intact, but his eyes bounced between you and Jude which made you wriggle your way out of Jude’s grip on your waist. “So what’s up?” You attempted to shift the conversation. “You just came to drop this off?”

Santi nodded, lifting the food slightly. “I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay after last night.”

Jude stepped even closer, making you feel the body heat radiating from behind you. “She’s good, mate.”

Santi finally looked Jude in the eye, becoming increasingly annoyed with his presence just as much as you were. “She can answer for herself, no?” The tension in the air was so suffocating that you could barely breathe through it. Jude wasn’t backing down and Santi definitely wasn’t one to be pushed into anything..no matter how chill he was.

You cleared your throat to gain some sense of control. “It’s fine Santi.”

“You sure?” he asked, locking his eyes on you and very blatantly ignoring Jude.

“Yes.” You crossed your arms. “Actually… I needed to talk to you about something.” Jude made a noise behind you but you were ignoring his antics now.

Santi nodded. “Yeah? Que lo que? (what’s up)”

Jude didn’t like the fact that he had been cut out of the conversation, his pride was on the line and he wasn’t going to let it slide. He peeped how you were shifting the conversation and being careful with your words to not reveal too much. Jude was smart but he was also petty, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Santi stand in your doorway for some innocent little check-in that could lead to more behind your closed bedroom door.

“You need to talk to him?” he asked mockingly but also very irked. “For what? I already said yes and you’re still asking him to be in the documentary too?”

“Documentary?” Santi asked.

You opened the door fully now and stepped back to grab the food and place it on the counter, then walked back to Santi. “I was going to ask for your help. It’s a project for class..” you admitted.

Jude walked over to the food and lifted the top off, inspecting the ropa vieja with a curious look before he turned his attention back to you and Santi, who had given you a quick hug while Jude was momentarily distracted. “So I’m not enough, huh? You need another athlete in the mix?” He gestured toward Santi lazily. “I guess that makes sense. You can’t just have me, gotta add a little filler content.”

Santi walked over to Jude, unbothered. “Something on your mind hermano?”

Jude smiled but it wasn’t friendly. “Nah. Just wondering what exactly your part in all this is supposed to be.” He opened the arroz con leche and grabbed a spoon, lifting a bite into his mouth to infuriate Santi. It was cold and creamy with just the amount of sweetness as he chewed. “What’s she gonna cover? The story of an NBA reject who never made it past summer league?” Jude then placed the arroz con leche back on the counter and gave Santi a pat on the shoulder. “Not too bad, mate. Maybe you should stick to cooking.”

Santi’s expression barely changed but you knew that pissed him off. There was a barely-there tightening of his jaw and a flash of anger dancing across his pupils. Santi didn’t get riled up easily but Jude’s words weren’t just a throwaway jab...they were designed to sting. His words even had you pissed off and you were seconds away from cussing Jude out yourself. He had no business coming for Santiago like that but you knew exactly why he did it. He needed to have the upper hand and couldn’t just let something sit when his ego was at stake. He peeped the way you kept your voice level with Santi but raised it with him. Jude saw how you tried to block the door and realized you didn’t tell him about your full plans for the documentary from the jump. He didn’t like the picture he was getting.

“Is this what you do?” Santi asked in a raised tone. “You throw a bitch fit every time someone else is around her?”

They were arguing over you again. It was flattering honestly. It wasn’t everyday that two hot men stood in your apartment challenging each other from the sight of you, but two days in a row was pushing it..especially when you still had a raging hangover headache.

Jude licked the last bit of arroz con leche off his spoon, satisfied with himself for getting under Santi’s skin. He didn’t need to say more to make his point. He had already thrown the punch by mentioning Santi’s career, his missed shot, and the fact that he wasn’t on Jude’s level and probably never would be.

“You know what’s funny?” Santi’s voiced in a cool tone. “You talk a lot for a man who can’t even handle his own shit.”

Jude’s smirk fell, but only for a second. “Yeah? Enlighten me.”

“You act like she owes you an explanation of what she does in her own life. She didn’t mention it to you because she didn’t want to.” Santi’s head tilted just slightly, pushing the knife in deeper. “Or are you mad she’s not hanging onto the bullshit you tell every other girl?”

Jude shifted around to stand taller and laughed. “Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I know.” Santi countered. “You’re a mommy’s boy who’s fucking pissed she doesn’t worship the ground you walk on like your hoes do.” Jude gritted his teeth together. He hated when people tried to dissect him, especially when they weren’t wrong. The boy could stomach a lot of things but being read like a book by Santi made his blood boil.

“I’m not the one delivering homemade meals hoping it earns me extra time. She called me to come over here” Jude fired back. “So what’s the plan bro? Feed her and wait around like a good little second choice the same way you waited around for the NBA just to not get drafted?”

You flinched. That was a deep cut and you all knew it. Santi took a step closer to Jude and squared up to him as a warning, daring him to say something else. “You almost got your ass knocked into the pavement last night, carajito (little boy/brat but derogatory). We can run it back right now.”

Jude’s jaw flexed and his muscles tensed around him with balled fists at his side. He was seconds away from doing something reckless and you knew Santi wasn’t just a basketball player, but also someone who did boxing recreationally. He could truly beat Jude’s ass if he was pushed far enough and it was starting to get to that point. Luckily for Jude, you didn’t want anything to do with the online conversation that would be trending if he showed up battered to training, so you stepped in.

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” you snapped while stepping between the two of them. “I’m not doing this again.”

Jude exhaled harshly through his nose with his jaw still locked, but he took a step back. Santi was the first to ease up, but his glare never stopped. You were tired of them throwing shots at each other and tired of being caught in the middle of the circus this was turning into. You ran your hands over your hair, exhaling slowly to keep from losing it.

“I want you both to be in this because you have different experiences and different perspectives. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it.” You looked at Jude first. “And if you have a problem with that, you don’t have to be involved.”

Jude kissed his teeth but he didn’t argue, he just stared at you instead. You turned to Santi. “Are you in?”

You waited, watching both of them with growing impatience. Santi had already cooled off and nodded at you. “Yeah, I’m in.” Jude took his sweet time, playing with the rim of his stupid hat with his jaw still flexing from his bruised ego. He wanted you to say something that would put him above Santi and everyone else.

Too bad for him. You weren’t doing that.

You crossed your arms, waiting. “Well???”

Jude wanted to make sure he would be the ONLY highlight of this documentary, no matter what extras you planned on adding. He lifted his hat off his head to run a hand over his sponge curls, finally agreeing definitively as he put the hat back on. “I’m in.”

You nodded out of satisfaction but you were still annoyed as hell that it took this much just for both of them to agree. It seemed like they were both agreeing to challenge each other rather than actually helping you, but you pushed that thought aside to get down to the nitty gritty. “Good. Now.. let’s be clear about a few things.” Santi attentively listened but Jude was still scoffing like a school boy who couldn’t get his way. “We’ll be filming over the next few weeks so I need access to your routines, training, travel schedules and whatever I can capture without pissing off Real Madrid or the leagues. When I go to your games, I’m going as media. Not as some fan..” you pointed at Jude before he could even try it. “Or someone in a private box at the Bernabeu. And definitely not courtside at Movistar. Got it?”

Jude rolled his eyes like your request was outlandishly ridiculous. “You think they’ll just let you in like that? I can–”

“I’ll apply for the credentials just like any other person in the media” you cut in sharply. “I don’t need to be paraded around Jude.”

You stared both of them down for a few seconds to make it abundantly clear how serious you were. “One more thing..I’ll be going back home to Miami to visit so you’ll have a break from filming while I’m gone.”

Santi nodded in understanding but Jude just had to push your buttons. “I could come with you to Miami.”

“What?”

“You’re filming my life, yeah?” He leaned back against the counter as if he had declared a normal suggestion. “May as well get the full picture and show them what I’m like on holiday.” Your mind drifted to the night he first liked one of your pictures on Instagram. You thought he was cute but the minute you took a deep dive googling his name, you found out exactly what he was like on his holidays. Seeing it online was enough to never want to see it again, especially right in front of you.

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening.” Jude licked over his lips and looked at you, then at Santi. He was weighing whether he wanted to push further just to get under you and Santi’s skin but you clocked the gears turning in his head and refused to give him another opening or opportunity. “We’re done here.” you stated firmly. “I need food, my bed, and zero testosterone in my immediate vicinity. Goodbye. Both of you can leave now.” You ushered both of them to the door, seconds away from peace and quiet when the door swung open and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Mateo took one sniff of the food, clocked Santiago, Jude, and then you.

“I know my eyes aren’t deceiving me on this day... que vaina es esta?! (what’s this nonsense?)” Mateo waved his finger between you three.

Your head fell back with a groan. “Mateo, pleaseeee.”

“No.” He pointed his finger at you. “I need someone to explain why this is happening.” he gestured at the two athletes standing tall in the same space without throwing hands. “Because last time I checked...these two were fighting over you at the party last night.”

Santi smiled brightly at Mateo to disengage from his dramatics. “I just came to drop off some food as an apology. I was just leaving.”

“And you??” Mateo pointed at Jude with a side eye.

Jude shrugged and pointed at you like the tattle tell he was. “She called me and told me to come over.”

Mateo turned to you in disbelief. There was no ‘we listen and we don’t judge’ with Mateo. He was listening and undeniably judging as he put the puzzle pieces together. “YOU called HIM?”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s for a project Mateo.”

“So you’re telling me out of the millions of people in Madrid, the capital of Spain, that these two fools were your only option?”

“They’re my best options” you admitted with exhaustion, still trying to usher Jude and Santi out of the apartment. Both of them were now intently standing near the door, watching Mateo and his dramatics unfold.

Mateo looked Jude and Santi up and down with a deep, exasperated sigh and then refocused on you. “You do realize this is a terrible idea, right?”

Jude scoffed. “Mate, I’m literally standing right here.”

“Oh I know.” Mateo shot back without missing an opening for a quick witted jab. “That’s exactly why I’m saying it.”

Mateo had a point which was easily the most annoying thing about him. But just because he was right about some things didn’t mean he had to be right about this. It wasn’t a terrible idea. Maybe a little messy, sure, but terrible? Noooo. You had a vision and you were going to see it through, no matter how many stress inducing headaches it caused. You were determined to capture the essence of what your eccentric professor explained in class earlier that day. You wanted to reveal the truth of their lives, their stories, and their reality beyond what people thought they knew.

But why did it suddenly feel like the only person being put under a microscope was you?

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #jude bellingham imagine #footballer imagines #jude bellingham fanfic

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