#hector too don’t forget hector

[dannybobany]

Omori magical girl au. That’s it that’s the prompt. I just think it’d be neat

[drakesfeelings]

Hector fort, fluff, that's all i need

sorry it’s a little short (and sorry for the long ass wait) hope you’ll like it tho 💖

more than you think [h.f]

“you need to stop dancing hermano, it’s getting worrying,” hector can’t help but laugh at marc’s jokes—disguised in faux concern.

lamine’s eyes widen in shock, and the smirk on the ‘blonde’s face quickly disappears when he’s playfully slapped by his teammate.

silently watching his friends fight, chuckling from time to time at marc’s attempts to dodge the moroccan’s attacks, hector almost forget about getting dressed.

today’s training is done. usually, the boys always had enough practice for a whole day, but xavi was in a good mood; which means finishing early.

and which means, in hector’s language, more time with his girl.

his naked back against the metal of his locker, putting on his yeezy’s slides, he feels his phone vibrate under his thigh. speaking of the devil.

❤️ | you’re done babe?

smiling to himself, he taps a simple answer before getting back to dress up—his movements now quicker than before.

hector was always the teammate who loves to take his time preparing himself. he usually took long ass showers and was the last getting out of camp nou, his cologne and shampoo lingering in the changing rooms.

the only and rare times he was on a rush, were the ones when you were waiting for him.

his whole team knew about how much he loves you, that much that he couldn’t bring himself to make you wait.

you are his princess, who is he, to make you wait? no-fucking-body.

so, it’s only an understatement to know why he’s the first one to finish packing today.

“the novia is waiting,” he hears alejandro’s teasing voice behind him. it’s not even a question anymore, just a simple fact.

“tú lo sabes,” the brunette smirks, sending a wink in his friend’s direction. “adios!” he quickly bids everyone goodbye, his hand tightening on his bag’s strap. you know it. bye!

before the door closes, he can hear marc’s complaints about him leaving like a thief and pedri’s making fun of the newly blonde.

he loves his team. but not as much as you, so he forgets about his teammates’ bickering and jogs in the exit’s direction, texting you during his run.

to ❤️ | coming mi amor

he quickly taps send and shoves his phone in his short’s pocket. in three minutes, the brunette is already coming out of the building, happily making his way to the parking, where you’re waiting next to his car.

shoulder pressed against the bmw’s driver’s door, your pretty eyes focused on the screen of your phone, you don’t even hear your boyfriend’s steps.

your legs are engulfed by the boy’s shorts—that you stole from his closet—and your white shirt is tucked into the front of your bra, letting your tummy breathes. you’re wearing a pair of slides, the weather being too hot to handle closed shoes, and your hair are wild-free.

his heart skips a beat. you’re the prettiest woman on earth to the man’s eyes.

“hola guapa,” he doesn’t let his adoration for you phase him though, keeping on his cool-fuck-boy act—even if he’s not waiting for your greetings to be said to snuggle his face in the crook of your neck, nose brushing against the skin of your jaw. hello, beautiful.

it’s time for your heart to skip a beat.

you grin with all your teeth, your arms automatically wrapping themselves around his neck and your phone long forgotten, loosely hanging in one of your hand.

“hola bebe,” you mutter in his chest, breathing in his scent. something musky, something masculine, something that screams hector, something that smells like home to you. your home. him. hello, baby.

he sighs happily, face smushed by your warmth and nostrils taking in your monoi scented body-cream. you smell like summer. like the beach, the sand, the blue sky and the waves.

but you also smell like his. and it’s all that matters to him, right now.

@ drakesfeelings

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [34] - Cage

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Lack of honesty can cause resentment.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, your day started out pretty calm.

You were petting Alpine with one hand while scribbling on the paper with the other, and you stole a look at Bucky when he entered the kitchen. He ran a hand through his damp hair and you inhaled the scent of his aftershave as subtly as you could, pretending to be busy with the file in front of you while he made his way to the coffee machine to fill himself a cup of coffee.

You could feel his glances on you as he leaned back on the counter, sipping his coffee but you ignored him until he cleared his throat.

“So when is that asshole leaving?”

You stopped petting Alpine and lifted your head to look at him better.

“Who, Rhett?” you asked. “He just got here.”

“Doesn’t he have a city to rule?”

“He left his right hand in his place, apparently,” you told him. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

You hummed, spinning your pen between your fingers.

“You should be nicer to him, you know.”

He scoffed into his coffee mug. “Yeah sorry, I’m not capable of being nice to dickheads who gaze at my wife longingly.”

“What?”

“I’m already being civil by not shooting him, and that’s only because you told me not to.”

“You’re not going to shoot—he doesn’t gaze at me longingly, Bucky.”

“Oh he does,” he shot back. “In fact, I bet he has a plan.”

Your frown deepened. “What plan?”

“He wants to—he wants to take you to Chicago,” he said, motioning vaguely and you tilted your head, your mouth slightly open. “Yeah, he’ll feed you some bullshit about never being over you—”

“He is very much over me.”

“And he will ask you to go rule Chicago with him, and then I’ll shoot him and feed his fucking body to the dogs—”

“Can I just interrupt that very creative theory with some truth?” you asked him as Alpine jumped from the counter to the floor. “Number one, even if he weren’t over me, it wouldn’t fucking matter because I am over him.”

His eyes searched yours as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. “…Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Number two, whoever he is with -which is not going to be me, by the way- will not be ruling Chicago with him. Chicago’s rules are different, the crown moves through blood there. Spouses are irrelevant, they’re treated worse than heirs, or right arms. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the bitch who he’s going to marry because she’s a terrible person, but I kind of feel bad for her too because no one will ever take her seriously. King consort or queen consort, doesn’t matter because they have zero power, except for providing heirs and strengthening the loyalty of families.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “Jesus, and we say we have medieval rules.”   

“Exactly,” you said. “And number three, I know we both keep forgetting it but we are in fact married. Even if I weren’t over him, me going to Chicago would be grounds for war and only an idiot—”

“Trojan War started the same way, didn’t stop anyone.”

“I appreciate the compliment but I’m not the underworld edition of Helen of Troy,” you pointed out. “That’s not what’s going to happen here. Unless Eric Bana shows up, that is.”

“Which one was he in that movie, Paris?”

“Hector,” you said with a sigh. “The things I’d do to him…”

“I’m glad we had this conversation because now I will have to add him to my hitlist as well.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“The point is,” you said. “I’m not starting a war between Chicago and New York for an ex. Because that’s what Rhett is. An ex.”

“He doesn’t see you as just an ex,” Bucky told you. “You said it yourself. He trusts you.”

The sight of Rhett’s car by the campus outside your building made you stop dead in your tracks only for a moment. You could feel the smile pulling your lips as you approached him, and he took off his sunglasses to grin at you.

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” you said. “Look at that, you survived.”

“Mm hm.”

“I take it the same can’t be said for Lucas?”

“For him or any of his men,” he stated, leaning back to his car. “He was waiting exactly where you said he was.”

You nodded your head. “How pissed off was your father?”

“Very pissed off,” he said. “But I think it worked out pretty well, you know? Now we have sent a message.”

“The ultimate golden heir is not to be crossed or challenged,” you teased him with a small smirk. “That’s a good message.”

He heaved a sigh, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you warn me?” he asked. “I mean, aside from the orgasms I gave you—”

“That was a mutual transaction,” you pointed out, making him let out a chuckle and hold up his hands.

“It really was,” he said. “But seriously, we were broken up. And I know what promise he dangled in front of you. What, you didn’t even consider it?”

You made a face, shaking your head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“New York values loyalty over power,” you said. “That’s what I grew up with. I don’t do business with greedy backstabbers, neither would my father or anyone else in New York. Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

Rhett’s gaze was fixed on you, a light crossing his eyes as he let out a breath.

“Jesus…” he muttered. “One last transaction, cupcake?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Then we will get attached and we can’t have that. You have a city to take over, and I���m too smart to be put in the background in someone else’s empire.”

Rhett smiled softly.

“My father won’t do business with anyone in New York,” he said, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“Neither will I,” Rhett said. “Until you need my help.”

Your eyes shot up to his, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“You’d do that for me?” you asked and he nodded.

“You saved my life, and proved that I can in fact trust you,” he said. “Chicago values loyalty above everything else. The least I can do is pay back the favor.”

A smile warmed your face. “I’ll come to collect, Rhett.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said and extended his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, cupcake.”

You let out a giggle, and shook his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “Likewise.”  

“Because I earned his trust,” you told him as his phone vibrated and he checked the screen, then typed something. Even if you wanted to ask who it was, you managed to control yourself, biting inside your cheek.

“Dr. Raynor rescheduled the therapy session for the evening,” you told him. “Your assistant told you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a meeting with Anna before that so I might be a bit late but I’ll be there.”

Your brows shot up, that familiar bitterness burning your mouth. “With Anna?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “Gotta go, I’ll see you there,”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you in a very demanding manner. You heaved a sigh, stroking over her soft fur.

“We’re not going to threaten Anna,” you told her, “Because that’s a fucking insane thing to do, and we’re very logical, rational individuals, right Alpine?”

Alpine meowed again and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm,” you muttered. “Exactly.”

                                               *

“I mean it’s not that I’m jealous,” you assured Becca who only watched you with her brows raised. “Obviously that’s not what’s happening here.”

She hummed, sipping her coffee.

“It’s just that she’s a bit too friendly with him I feel like.”

“Like Rhett is a bit too friendly with you?”

“That’s very different!” you protested. “Rhett and I are going to make a deal!”

“Anna already has a deal with Bucky.”

“Whose side are you on?” you asked, sulking and she let out a laugh.

“Yours, obviously,” she said. “But I’m just saying, maybe before pointing fingers, acknowledge the fact that Rhett liked you. A lot.”

“Liked,” you repeated. “Back then. Besides, I have no feelings for him and as I told Bucky, he will get married.”

“And he will have mistresses.”

“Probably,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Alice will kill them I’m guessing. She was quite obsessed with him even while we were dating and now that Rhett says he will marry her, I do not want to think about the lengths she’d go to.”

 Your phone buzzed on the table and you checked the screen, then tilted your head. “Huh.”

“Who is it?”

“Ethan,” you said. “We haven’t talked in forever, apparently he was too busy and so was I. He wants to grab coffee sometime.”

“What is it with all your exes wanting to fuck you?” Becca asked, making your jaw drop.

“That’s not true!”

“No seriously, what are you doing to those guys?”

“I don’t do anything to them—you know what, we’re changing the subject,” you said as you put your phone back on the table. “Do you think I’ll be able to pull it off?”

“The deal?” Becca asked, “I’d say you already have.”

“Nothing is on paper yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, he flew here for that deal. He will make it.”

You drummed your fingernails on the table. “My father will have so many things to say about it I’m sure.”

“He can say whatever he wants—oh!” she sat up straighter. “Guess what I heard.”

“What?”

“Apparently, Ian is learning how to fight.”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“Mm hm. His right hand is teaching him, the hot Hercules guy—”

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, him.”

You scoffed a laugh. “How did you hear about that?”

“Your father told my father and my father told my mom at breakfast,” she said. “Never too late to start I guess?”

“I mean he’s the heir,” you said with a sigh. “If the cage fight is happening…”

“You know how I feel about the cage fight tradition but for Ian’s case only, I will enjoy it,” she said. “I hate the son of a bitch.”

You squeezed her hand. “How Leila?”

“That’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you,” she said, huffing out a breath. “My mom kind of forced my hand.”

“How?”

“She and me and Leila are having brunch tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“So I need you to tell me Leila won’t decide to dump me tomorrow.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you shook your head.

“She won’t,” you assured her. “Do you want me to be there? I will invite myself to that brunch, I don’t care what Winnifred thinks.”

 She looked like she was genuinely considering the idea before she made a face, then shook her head.

“Nah, I need to deal with this myself,” she muttered and you pressed a hand over your chest.

“Aw,” you said with a grin. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut it,” she said, kicking at your shoe with hers, making you gasp. “But I’m going to need all the moral support I can get, so you will be by the phone the whole time, alright?”

You let out a laugh. “Deal.”

                                                    *

Bucky was late to the therapy session as he said he would be by fifteen minutes, and when he got there, he was rather tense. Even if you wanted to ask what had happened, you knew you couldn’t in front of the therapist so you raised your brows at him but he shook his head.

“So,” Dr. Raynor said, “Let’s pick up from where we left off the last time. How have things progressed in terms of your communication with your ex-boyfriend in the picture?”

“Him being my ex-boyfriend doesn’t play a part in our communication or lack thereof,” you said quickly and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It definitely does.”

“I think what plays an important part in our communication is the fact that Bucky doesn’t exactly trust me.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and turned to look at you better.

“I don’t think you should be pointing fingers here, Charm.”

“I do trust you!” you protested, making him scoff.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what, if you’re being like this because I didn’t give you one tiny little detail about my plan—”

“One tiny little detail?” Bucky repeated with a laugh. “Try the whole plan.”

“You wouldn’t even spare me a glance if I pulled the shit you did back in that back alley,” you finished your sentence as if he didn’t cut you off and that seemed to take him by surprise. He gawked at you, then licked his lips, shaking his head.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What happened in the back alley?” Dr. Raynor asked, her voice almost too calm and Bucky gritted his teeth, leaning back in the couch as if he was uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“It was ages ago,” he said curtly and you hummed.

“And you never apologized.”

“I did apologize—”

“Asking me if I’m still mad via text does not count as an apology, Bucky.”

“What happened?” Dr. Raynor asked and you took a deep breath, then crossed your arms.

“I had a silly little crush on Bucky years and years ago,” you said. “Before I left for college, I made the mistake of telling him about it.”

“Charm.”

“And it’d be fine if he only turned me down but nope,” you spat, that bitter taste burning your throat again. “He had to humiliate me.”

“I didn’t humiliate—”

“Yes you did,” you cut him off and he ran a hand over his face, then motioned at Dr. Raynor.

“Are we seriously going to do this in front of her?”

“Why not?” you said. “That’s what the therapy is for.”

“And you resent him for it, Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky scoffed a laugh.

“Oh she hates me for it,” he corrected her and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, I’m just saying that if I didn’t trust you, it would be with a reason.”

“Right.”

“Was there a reason behind it, Bucky?”

“No there wasn’t, other than the fact that he wanted to humiliate me.”

“Charm.”

“Y/N, open communication is very important and a huge part of it is listening,” Dr. Raynor said, making you shake your head.

“No, he really didn’t have a reason other than the fact that he was the city’s golden prince who thought—”

“My father wanted us to end up together,” Bucky cut you off, making you pull your brows together in confusion and you turned your head to gawk at him.

“What?” you asked after a beat and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said. “He kept talking about how it would be good for the business, how I should visit you in Chicago when you’d leave for college and…all that bullshit.”

You blinked a couple of times in complete silence and Bucky bit inside his cheek.

“I mean obviously I didn’t see you that way back then, but I wouldn’t have been that much of an asshole to you if that was the only reason,” he told you, his voice almost inaudible. “I thought…I thought you were yet another cage he would drag me into, that’s it.”

You could barely hear anything from the way your heart was pounding in your ears and Bucky swallowed thickly, then stole a look at Dr. Raynor and took a deep breath.

“Yeah no, I’m not doing this shit in front of a stranger,” he muttered and got up from the couch as if he was too restless, then walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. The sound snapped you out of your haze and you jumped on your feet, grabbing your purse.

“Thanks Dr. Raynor,” you said in a haste and walked out of the office as well but by the time you stepped outside, Bucky’s car had already driven off. You let out a breath, then leaned back to the wall on the building and rubbed at your eyes.

“Oh…” you murmured more to yourself. “Fuck.”

Chapter 35

[thewritetofreespeech]

Romantic relationship headcanons for Dracula, Hector, Issac, Alucard, and Trevor?

Castlevania Boys Romantic Headcanons

Dracula

Once his defenses are down, he’s a very romantic man.

Despite his eons of life, he still believes in love, and true love, and expressing that to those that matter.

Even if it’s few & far between on being able to find it.

Since his time is endless, and theirs possibly short, he wants to spend as much of it as he can with them.

Going on walks, picnics, or just being together in comfortable silence while they read or relax by the fire.

He is also a very passionate man. So make sure your evenings are free for him.

Hector

Aww bless him. He tries.

Which is probably his biggest flaw. He tries too hard.

Hector is a classic over thinker, in the sense that he thinks on ever scenario and plans it out. Thinking this will create a perfect plan with now flaws, except he forgets that people are flawed.

Inevitably this usually ends in failure, but still a sweet gesture that is appreciated.

His gifts are usually very thought out, but also miss the mark. Like one time you said you liked green, and Hector remember this and gave you an emerald ring he pulled off one of his night creature carcasses.

At least your pets will live forward though.

Alucard

Although jaded by life, Alucard is actually still an incredibly sweet and charming man.

Though he tries to keep his heart safe and locked away, he does still keep it on his sleeve. And once he’s warmed up to you, will gladly give it.

Words often escape him, as he’s worried about saying the wrong thing. So his romantic gestures are usually in, well, gestures.

Finding a book he thinks you will like. Coming across some manner of poetry and leaving it on your nightstand. Collecting wildflowers when he goes out to hunt or fish for supper.

Trevor

More swagger than romance, but he’s getting there.

Trevor always says the right things. Good on compliments. Great on telling you how beautiful you are.

Terrible at remembering dates or plans though. So don’t expect him to remember anniversaries, or show up to dinners on time if you have a special one planned without reminding him 18 times.

It’s not that he doesn’t care. It’s just that his brain doesn’t work that way. More in the moment than a future plans kind of person.

He longs to be close to you, always. Not necessarily in a sexual way (though that is a lot) but just beside you, next to you, curled up by your side.

[diana-bluewolf]

Why NPC’s lines outside quests don’t tell us anything about them

*with rare exceptions

Here we have Duncan saying he'd like to get rid of Muggle-borns like Garlick. And, surprise, then we have Hector Fawley (future Minister for Magic, btw) saying exactly the same line in the same voice.

The subtitles are hard to read, so I duplicated them with text under pictures.

Duncan and Hector: "If only Black had the power to choose the other professors too. Then we could get rid of Muggle-born like Garlick."

Or here Duncan rants about disgusting Mudbloods ruining the school. But look at this adorable Hufflepuff repeating the same word for word.

Duncan and a random Hufflepuff student: "It’s about time Hogwarts put someone like Black in charge. Perhaps now we can stop all these disgusting Mudbloods from ruining the school."

Suddenly, Duncan forgets his own words and says he will miss Professor Garlick or recommends that Garreth ask her for advice.

Duncan: "I can’t wait until I’m a sixth-year - then I won’t have to waste my time with Herbology anymore. I’ll miss Professor Garlick, mind." Duncan: "I wouldn’t bother yourself about that. If I were you, I’d be more inclined to acquire myself some Bubotuber pus. I’m sure Garlick could point you in the right direction."

Garreth seems to have difficulties with making up his mind, too.

Garreth: "Have you been in any other common rooms? I'd love to know what it's like to be in another house - just for a day." Also Garreth: "Even if I knew how to get into the other common rooms, I wouldn't bother. There's a reason I was sorted into my house."

This does sound like Garreth. Until you hear the same from half of Hogwarts lots.

Garreth and a random Gryffindor student: "Sometimes I wish someone would Transfigure me into a squirrel. Then I wouldn't have to worry about doing schoolwork anymore."

The same goes for Leander. Btw, hello Mousey @sparxyv!

Leander: "You think Garreth Weasley would be better at Transfiguration considering his aunt teaches the thing."

I see sometimes people think Leander is a bully because he says some mean lines like the one when he's bragging about a knee-reversal hex he tried on a small Hufflepuff. But it's NOT his lines. It's just the lines that belong to everyone, which means they belong to no one.

I even made a video based on Ominis's lines like this.

Ominis: "Well, my father naturally assumed I'd be a strong Seeker, just like him. I say, thank Merlin Quidditch was cancelled." Ominis: "I met some of my best friends in Flying. Nothing creates a bond like thinking you're all about to die." Ominis: "My friends and I like to spend our evenings watching the sunset from the Quidditch pitch."

Btw maybe Quidditch Champions devs took it too seriously 😂 I agree with the point that Ominis technically can play Quidditch: there are, without a doubt, disabled athletes in the world, and if there’s a wand, that helps him to see why not imagine a broom like this? Still, given his personality, I believe that Ominis appeared in that game just to gather more money from fans, and he's just as a quidditch player, as Seb's patronus is a cat. Because, seriously, Ominis? Saying that, "Nothing creates a bond like thinking you're all about to die." Haha!

From what I can see, random student dialogues exist only to fill the silence with background noise and create the illusion of life, but they can't tell us anything about the characters.

*HOWEVER, this does not apply to situations where NPCs say something to MC, rather than during dialogues with random students.

For example, Ominis’s lines like, “Heard you're defending Hogsmeade against trolls. You know there is such a thing as trying too hard." or “Heard you and Sebastian traversed a mountain in Loyalist territory. You know, that sort of thing could have gotten you both killed.” really belong to our gossip king Ominis.

Or when MC walks past Amit near Hogshead before talking to Lodgok for the first time, Amit shouts greetings to MC.  Those are the lines that really were intended for those NPCs.

[sl0t4matt]

could you do a fic w hector fort where him and the reader get a matching tattoo please? like something little or whatever you want hehe

h. fort | girl with the tattoo

thank you sm for requesting, i love this request! i only know very few things from friends abt tattoos so i hope i got everything right.

“hi baby how was training?” you ask hector as he slumps down the couch next to you, immediately snuggling up on you.

“it was fine. i would’ve rather stayed with you though.” he admits, laying his head on top of your lap.

you move your hands to his curls playing with them. you absolutely loved playing with his hair, since it was always perfectly curled and done. “don’t let xavi hear that.” you chuckle.

he starts grinning a little too suspicious.

“oh god, what have you done again you idiot.” with that look he must’ve done something, you thought. he smirks. “what do you mean?”

“do not play with me right now, hector. tell me!” you roll your eyes at his annoyingness.

“you know i love when you’re demanding, ma.” he winks liking his lips. you stand up not being able to deal with him right now. he knows exactly how impatient you are. he just loves pushing your buttons.

he won’t tell you. fine! he takes ahold of your wrist, immediately pulling you back.

“okay, okay i’ll tell you.” you sigh sitting back down. he smiles. “hector i swear-.”

“chill, i��m sure you’re gonna like it.” he interrupts you quickly. you furrow at him. what the hell could he mean? “okay so i got an appointment at the tattoo studio.”

“nice. what are you gonna get?” he smirks. “you mean what are we gonna get.”

“what?!” you’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but because of your school schedule you never got to doing it . you honestly also kept forgetting tbh but obviously hector didn’t.

“well i wanted to get your eyes tatted because you know how much i love them, but then i thought ‘oh y/n always wanted to get a tattoo’ so i thought why not just take you with me and we’ll get a matching one.” this boy is something else.

you grin so hard, it hurts. hector has always been affectionate moments like these remind you how much he truly is your soulmate. you jump on top of him shooting him with kisses. “i literally love you, you know that right.” he nods, laughing. “i love you too.”

“when is the appointment?” you ask. “7pm.” he shrugs. “are you serious! i don’t even know what we’re gonna get!!” you sigh, shaking your head at how your boyfriend can be so slow at times.

“we’ll get angel numbers of course. you’re a big astro girl.” hector says, referring to the time you first met him. (your first question being what his star sign is.) “wait, that’s actually a good idea.” he smiles smugly. “i know.”

…

“is it gonna hurt?” you ask hector as you enter the studio. “you don’t want me to be honest, ma.” you sigh. hector takes your hand. “i’ll go first if you want.” he says. you nod. you never had a big fear of needles. you yourself having a belly button piercing but a tattoo is different the pain is there for a while whereas when you get pierced it’s more like a poke.

you get in walking to the woman behind the counter.

“hi, we got an appointment for 7pm.” i smile at her. “of course. come with me.” she smiles back, bringing the both of you to the guy that does hector’s tattoos.

a bigger man with a beard greets us which you assume is the tattoo artist. he doesn’t quiet look scary though rather like a big teddy bear with lots of tattoos.

“the girl who’s eyes you’re getting tatted on?” he grins at hector. “yeah.” he smiles turning to look at you. hector isn’t very social with people he isn’t extremely close with, so he tries to keep his conversation as short as possible. you think it’s quiet ironic since you never seem to shut up, no matter who you’re talking to. they say opposites attract though!

he pulls out a picture handing it to him. the man nods, giving you a quick smile then takes his stuff out.

you follow hector as he sits down on a chair, extending his arm. he shows the guy where he wants it and how big it should be. the man doesn’t waste time and directly goes on tattooing him.

you sit beside him, squeezing his other hand, you being more scared of the pain he must be going through than hector himself is.

“you’re fine.” you stroke his hand, looking at him seriously concerned. “stop it you’re gonna make me laugh.” he mumbles. he’s so unserious.

it must not bother him much since he grimaces and curses on a few spots but keeps cool most of the time.

after him also getting the angel number tatto that is supposed to match with you, it’s finally your turn.

you’re pretty sure you’re gonna piss your pants as you wait in the room alone with hector because you’re so nervous. you don’t know how you’re gonna live to see see the next day after this. “you’ll be fine. it’s bad at first but you’ll get used to it. also i’m here for you, ma.” he tries cheering you up. “fucking hell.” you mutter. you’re probably going to experience the worst pain in your life here.

“are you ready?” the guy asks. with nodding your head, you go to sit on the same place hector sat when he got the tattoo.

you grip hector’s hand tightly, breaking it almost.

hector kisses the side of your face, whispering sweet words in your ear, trying to distract you from the needle that currently goes in and out of you.

“fuck.” you mutter through gritted teeth. “you’re doing so good, baby.” hector whispers. you bite your lip so hard you start tasting blood. “you wanna take a break?” the tattooer you now know as chris says. you shake your head, wanting it to end as soon as possible.

hector hates to see you like this: in pain. he hopes for it to end as soon as possible, the only thing he’s been wanting to do while you got tattooed being showering you with loving kisses, but he didn’t for the sake of chris since he’s sure he wouldn’t want to see a whole teen kissing session.

“it hurts so bad, hector.” you cry out. he moves stands of hair out of your face then cupping your face gently. “i know, baby but you got this.” he nods. the thing is you weren’t even being dramatic for once. this had the be the most hurting feeling you’ve ever experienced.

“we’re done!” chris pats your arm after he was done. your eyes meet with hectors, smiling lightly. you definitely knew you’re going to thank him at home for how he was there for you in this entire process.

[horoscope1078]

Pau sat in the corner of the locker room. His head hanging low as he fidgeted with his phone. His teammates Hector and Lamine were chatting animatedly nearby but Pau wasn’t really listening. His mind was somewhere else, specifically, on you. He had been crushing on you for months now but he just couldn’t work up the courage to tell you how he felt. Every time he thought about confessing his nerves got the best of him and he chickened out.

He let out a heavy sigh, catching Hector’s attention.

“Yo Pau, what’s up with you?” Hector asked tossing his towel over his shoulder as he walked over to him. “You’ve been quiet since training ended.”

Lamine who had been joking around with Hector moments ago joined them. “Yes man. You look like you’ve got something on your mind. Everything alright?”

Pau looked up at his friends, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “It’s this girl…”

Hector and Lamine exchanged a knowing look. “Ah... the girl. We’ve heard about her before” Lamine teased raising an eyebrow. “Still haven’t told her, have you?”

Pau shook his head feeling his face heat up. “No. Every time I get close.. I just.. I don’t know.. I freeze up. I want to tell her but I don’t know how to do it without making a fool of myself.”

Hector leaned against the lockers, crossing his arms with a grin. “Man.. you’re overthinking it. Just be confident and go for it. Girls love confidence.”

Lamine, however seemed to be more excited about giving Pau some advice. He rubbed his hands together, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Alright alright.. listen up. I’ve got the perfect plan for you. It’s simple. Write her a love letter.”

Pau blinked confused. “A love letter?”

“Yes man!” Lamine said nodding eagerly. “It’s old-school, romantic. Girls love that kind of stuff. You write something like ‘Dear crush, you light up my world like the stadium lights on game day. Every time I see you, my heart does a bicycle kick.’ ”

Hector snorted shaking his head. “A bicycle kick, really?”

Pau couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’m not sure that’s the right vibe Lamine.”

Lamine crossed his arms looking proud of himself. “Hey.. I’m just saying, it’s poetic. It’ll make her swoon.”

Hector rolled his eyes as stepping in with his own idea. “Forget the love letter. You need to do something bold, something that’ll get her attention for sure.” he thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Got it! Challenge her to a penalty shootout.”

Pau stared at Hector, half-amused and half-confused. “A penalty shootout? Seriously?”

“Yes! Hear me out” Hector said clearly excited by his own idea. “You invite her to the field, you both take turns shooting penalties and if she wins, you tell her your secret, you’ve been in love with her all along. If you win, same thing. Either way, you’ve got to confess. It’s a win-win!”

Pau rubbed his face with his hands, laughing but also groaning. “Guys.. I don’t think I can confess my feelings through a football match.”

“Why not?” Lamine piped up. “Football’s your thing Pau! It’s how you communicate with the world.”

Hector nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Make it fun. Girls love a guy who can make them laugh and doesn’t take himself too seriously.”

Pau chuckled, feeling a little better despite their ridiculous ideas. “Ok.. but what if she’s not into football? What if she doesn’t want to kick penalties against me?”

Lamine waved him off. “Then we move to plan b. Serenade her.”

Hector’s eyebrows shot up. “Serenade her? With what Lamine? You’re not gonna tell Pau to sing, are you?”

Lamine grinned unbothered by the scepticism. “Why not? I bet Pau has a decent voice. All he needs is a guitar and a few romantic lines. Something like ‘Girl, you dribble through my heart like Messi in his prime.’ ”

Hector burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re killing me man. Messi in his prime? Pau, please don’t do that.”

Pau leaned back, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Yes.. I think I’ll pass on the serenading idea.”

Lamine pouted though there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Fine fine. No singing. But seriously man, you’ve got to do something. The longer you wait the more you’re going to psych yourself out.”

Hector nodded clapping Pau on the shoulder. “Yes bro. Just be yourself. Talk to her like you always do but maybe.. y’know.. throw in a compliment or two. Tell her how you really feel but don’t overthink it.”

Pau sighed feeling grateful for his friends even if their ideas were totally out there. “You guys are ridiculous but thanks. I think I just need to figure out the right moment and go for it.”

Lamine leaned in with a grin. “And when you do, remember.. ‘bicycle kick of the heart.’ ”

Pau shook his head laughing again. “I’ll keep that in mind, Lamine. I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

With his friends by his side, Pau felt a little more confident even if he wasn’t ready to challenge you to a penalty shootout or sing about dribbling hearts just yet.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 28

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Thursday, December 31; 12:00 PM - Home.

- What if your new friends don’t like me?

- Mapi, that’s enough.

- No, seriously, I don’t know them and they don’t know me either, remember?

- You’ve got nothing to worry about, I said, rolling my eyes for the umpteenth time.

Since we woke up, she’s been second-guessing her decision to accept my New Year’s invitation. She had a whole week to think it over, and now she’s reacting. She was so enthusiastic at first. Now I’m getting all these “Are you sure?” and “What if…?” questions. I don’t think I can take much more.

- Anyway, it’s too late to back out now, I replied calmly.

- Pff... Are you almost done packing your suitcase?

- Yeah, I’m good.

- Are you going to tell me who all these gifts are for?

- You’ll find out soon enough. Are you ready? We’ll be leaving shortly.

- I’ve been ready since yesterday, she chuckles. I think you’re the one we should be asking.

- I should have everything.

I’ve checked at least three times to make sure. Since I won’t be coming back to Barcelona, I need to make sure I don’t forget anything. My next return could be months away or just a week.

- Do you really think we made the right choice? We could always stay here.

- Stop it, my friends are great. You’ll love them just as much as they’ll love you, I’m sure of it.

- So, how’s it going to work, then?

Even though I’ve explained it to her a hundred times, I think it reassures her to hear it again. I still wonder why she’s so anxious. I’m sure everything will go just fine.

- Alexia and Alba are landing at practically the same time as us. We’ll wait for each other and then take a taxi together to Leah’s place. That way, you’ll get to know my roommate ahead of time. She’s really excited to meet you.

- Hmm... Anyway, I don’t have a choice, do I?

- Nope, I giggled. It’s time to go. Hector must be waiting for us.

She grabs her things without much enthusiasm. I laugh as I follow her out. Her suitcase is small compared to mine. We say goodbye to Samuel and Sofia, who were waiting for us at the door. My mother, Marcus, and Joan had already left around ten this morning to visit friends who live a few hours away. I got up at nine on purpose to say goodbye to Joan. It wasn’t hard since I was already awake.

- Have a great time, girls, Sam and Sofia wish us.

- Thanks, have a great evening too.

I give them one last hug as they thank me for the gift I gave them. It wasn’t much, but I wanted to mark the occasion. They leave at the same time as we do since no one will be home. I’m glad they can enjoy the rest of their day with family. As for Hector, he still has a bit of work to do, driving us to the airport. The return is close now.

Thursday, December 31; 4:00 PM - Manchester Airport.

I stretch and yawn loudly, to Mapi’s amusement. I need to stretch my legs after the two-hour flight. I slept really well, even with Mapi’s presence. Shay greeted me as we got off the plane. Mapi can’t believe I know a girl like her. She gives me a playful shove after we pass her, still glancing back.

- Goodness. Why do you always attract the prettiest ones? she laughs.

- You can have her, I say with a smile, knowing her tastes. She’s just friendly, that’s all.

- Uh-huh. It’s true you’re saving yourself for Bronze, she teases back.

I roll my eyes, keeping my smile, not responding to avoid fueling her idea. My only hope is that she’ll behave in front of my friends tonight. No one knows about my relationship with my boss. I’ve given her enough pointers on what to avoid saying or doing. I don’t know why, but knowing her, I probably should’ve avoided it. She might do the exact opposite just to mess with me. Her arm drops as we reach the airport. We’ve barely passed the arrival barriers when a new brunette practically leaps onto me. I laugh as I feel her legs wrap around my waist, forcing me to support her by the thighs to avoid a spectacular fall.

- I missed you sooo much! she exclaims, her voice rising into a high pitch at the end.

- I missed you too, guapa!

I glance to my side where Mapi seems to have trouble processing what she’s seeing, from what I can tell. These next few days will be very enlightening for her. She’ll probably understand why these exceptional people make me want to stay here. Especially Alexia, who remains one of my favorites because of her persistence. She somehow managed to break through my physical barriers with her tactile nature.

Her voice goes high-pitched at the end. I smile, noticing Mapi’s puzzled expression beside me. She certainly didn’t expect me to accept such an embrace from anyone other than her. She’s going to understand a lot over these next few days.

- You must be Mapi? I hear despite being muffled by Alexia. I’m Alba Putellas.

- That’s me, and I know who you are, Bonita, replies my best friend.

Mapi’s trademark tact hasn’t changed. As if remembering her presence, Alexia finally lets go of me. I’m barely surprised when she hugs Mapi next. Mapi seems slightly awkward at first but accepts the contact out of politeness. I take advantage of their meeting to greet Alba in turn.

- Good to see you again, Princess. Glad to be back where it all began?

- Princess, huh? Mapi interjects before I have a chance to reply. Why don’t you ever tell me things like this? They’ve got you figured out, she laughs.

- Should I tell them how you were acting a few hours ago so you don’t start? I jokingly threaten.

- I think that’s enough, she says, pulling a face. By the way, what time is it? Is it normal that I’m starving?

- Four o’clock, but it must be the jet lag, comments Alexia.

- Yeah, that’s exactly it. Good thing I came prepared, right?

- Awh, you’re the best anyway.

I smile, digging into my bag to pull out some cookies I grabbed at the last minute in the kitchen. I expected she’d be hungry. I was just like her on my first trip here. She munches on them as we head to the baggage carousel to collect our luggage. Alba and Alexia have already retrieved theirs, which means they landed well before us. Once we’ve all got our bags, we head out. Alexia had reserved a taxi to take us to Leah and Alessia’s place. The taxi is late, making Mapi grumble, who now, instead of being hungry, is cold. I had warned her there’d be a big temperature difference between Barcelona and here, but she didn’t listen. From what I can see, it hasn’t snowed too much yet. To our relief, the taxi finally arrives, shutting my best friend up. Alba sits up front while I find myself sandwiched between my two friends in the back seat. I regret my spot when they start chatting with each other the whole way. At least I don’t have to worry about them getting along, though I had very little doubt. I knew everything would be fine. Thankfully, the trip was short. Leah and Alessia live just outside downtown in a spacious house, not too big and not too small. Alba takes care of paying the taxi while we unload our bags from the trunk. Leah herself opens the door before we even have to ring. I’m at the front of the group, so I’m the first to hug her.

- Hey, Princess, I didn’t know you were so sentimental, she laughs. You’re slipping in my book.

- Be grateful you’re getting a hug from her, I had to work hard to get the first one, comments Alexia.

- Seriously! You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to get the first one, Mapi chimes in.

- Hey, you two, I can manage you separately, but if you team up, this isn’t going to work.

They exchange a knowing look that tells me I’m going to regret bringing them together. In the end, the one who’s going to be jealous will probably be me. They get along even better than I imagined. I move forward when Leah invites us in. Alessia arrives shortly after we enter to greet us as well.

- Are we the first ones? Alba asks.

- Yeah, Patri and Claudia should be here soon, Leah replies. They said they’re picking up Maya and Ella on the way.

- Owh, that’s a lot of names to remember, Mapi comments.

I smile, understanding her on that point. Not long ago, I barely knew half of them, but I eventually learned everyone.

- There aren’t that many, Alexia reassures her.

- Maybe, but at the same time, Ona never talks to me about you guys, she retorts.

- Are you kidding me? I exclaim, offended.

- OK, how about I give you a tour of the house? Alessia suggests to avoid our debate.

- Good idea, let’s do that, Alexia agrees, not without teasing us.

We follow Alessia through the house. We start in the large living area we’re already in. It combines the living room and dining room, along with the kitchen in the back left corner. This layout creates a big, well-divided space. The decor is neither too old nor too modern. It’s a lot like the house I grew up in. We continue upstairs where we bring our luggage. She shows us the bathroom, the toilets, then the three main bedrooms, and two smaller guest rooms. She explains that there will be four rooms with three people each tonight.

- Well, I guess the three of us will be together, Alexia says. Is that okay with you, Alessia?

- Yes, yes, of course. Whatever you want.

She lets us choose between the two guest rooms, even though they’re practically identical. A mattress has been added to each room, leaving little space for our stuff, but with some organization, we manage. Alessia leaves us to help the other with the preparations. We thank her before she disappears downstairs.

- Want to share a bed? Mapi suggests. I mean, if you don’t mind, Alexia.

- No problem, she replies. You’ve known each other longer, so it’s only natural.

- Ona?

- We’ve been sharing a bed for almost two weeks. One more night won’t bother me.

- So it’s settled, she concludes.

I silently thank Mapi for her suggestion. She’s saving me from a tricky situation. I love Alexia, but I’m not ready to share a bed with her. That’s still a boundary for me. Before joining the others, we finish bringing up the rest of our things. Well, mostly Alexia’s and mine since Mapi doesn’t have as much as we do. She still comes down with us to take Alba’s things, which we put in Leah’s room as requested.

- You could’ve told me Alexia was so gorgeous, Mapi comments once we’re alone. Do you think I’ve got a chance with her?

- No, forget it, I giggled. I already told you she has a girlfriend and it’s serious. I didn’t bring you here to hit on my friends, I frowned.

- I was joking, she giggles. But still, what a shame. She must be a heartbreaker... Just like you, it seems.

- Really? Why do you say that?

- Didn’t you see how Alessia was eyeing you?

- What? Alessia? I laugh. Are you out of your mind?

- Didn’t you notice? she’s surprised. I’m telling you, she’s got a crush on you! Pay more attention when you’re with her.

- If you say so...

We stop talking when Alexia returns from Leah’s room. She smiles at us as she approaches.

- Everything good?

- Yep, we can go down and help the others.

And that’s what we do. The conversation with Mapi leaves me a bit puzzled, though. I would’ve liked to keep talking about it so she could explain how she came to that conclusion. I’ll pay more attention; maybe I’ll figure it out myself.

When we get downstairs, we find a completely transformed living room that we had barely recognized earlier. Leah and Alba have totally changed it by moving the couches and some furniture to create more space. They’re currently adding a table and chairs for tonight.

- "Alessia is in the kitchen if you’re looking for her," someone says.

We thank them and head to the kitchen, where we find Alessia busily working at the stove. Alexia immediately volunteers to help her. As for Mapi and me, to avoid overcrowding the kitchen, Alessia suggests we take care of the drinks in the meantime, which delights Mapi to no end.

- "The garage door is here," Alessia shows us at the entrance. "Everything’s in the car trunk. Just put whatever you can in the fridge."

- "For the alcohol, I’ve set up a table here," Leah tells us, not far away.

- "Got it, we’ll handle that."

Everyone goes back to their tasks as Mapi and I head to the garage. It’s a very well-organized space, divided into three areas. The first area near the door has a lot of storage cabinets and even a collection of wine bottles that we definitely don’t have permission to touch. On the other side, there’s a workshop space that’s just as orderly. In the middle, there are two parking spaces, one of which is empty, presumably because their parents are using the car since they’re not here. We don’t waste any time and open the trunk, which is indeed full of various bottles. Since most people stayed in Manchester, we agreed that Leah and Alba would handle the shopping and we’d split the bill among the participants tonight. All we had to do was bring the money and list our preferences to make sure everyone was happy.

- "Wow, there’s enough here to really get hammered," comments Mapi. "Beer, vodka, tequila, Jack Daniel's..." she lists off as she sees them. "They thought of everything!"

- "Help me out instead of snooping!"

- "Yeah, yeah, easy there, mini-commander."

- "Shut up, idiot," I say with a small smile.

She mocks me while balancing several bottles in her arms. We start by filling the kitchen fridge, then the garage fridge that Leah showed us. After that, we set up the alcohol on the table in the living room, preparing the cups that go with it. For what we can’t store, we place them next to the garage fridge to refill it as needed. When we return to the kitchen, the girls have finished preparing the meat platters. We agreed to have a raclette grill, as it was the simplest and least troublesome option given our group size. All we had to do was prepare the platters, as the butcher had already cut the red and white meat. Alessia added some salads and sauces like mayonnaise and ketchup to go with it. Another raclette machine is supposed to be brought by Patri. Speaking of her, they just arrived, right as we finished the final preparations. Leah and Alba had time to change in the meantime. I’m surprised to see that they all made the effort to wear a dress tonight. Now it’s our turn to get ready for the party. Maya and Ella join us as we go upstairs. I learned that they’re from here, like Patri and Claudia. I also learned that the only person not coming tonight is Misa, who already had plans. I don’t know her very well, so it doesn’t really bother me. In a few minutes, Alessia’s room turns into a real mess. Six girls just invaded her space with a ton of clothes.

- "How about this?" I ask for their opinion, showing a pair of black jeans and a shirt.

- "Ugh. Are you kidding?" says Mapi. "Good thing I brought you some clothes."

Oh no… I’m already dreading this just from hearing that sentence. I knew she would bring me things without asking. I already regret it just seeing her pull out my navy blue dress with a long V-neckline. I love wearing it, but it wasn’t at all what I had in mind for tonight. She holds it up to the others, who gasp just at the sight of it. The back is covered in lace. As for the length, it reaches mid-thigh, like almost all the dresses Mapi managed to make me buy.

- "Oh my God!" exclaims Alexia. "It’s gorgeous! You have to wear it!"

- "Really?" I say, groaning.

- "Absolutely!" adds Ella. "It must look amazing on you!"

- "It looks incredible on her," agrees Mapi. "And don’t forget the heels, right?"

She says this while dangling the matching stilettos on her finger. I hate her so much right now. It’s like she chose my outfit without asking for my opinion.

- "I’m sure it’ll look great on you," comments Alessia.

- "Of course it’ll look good on her. Sexier than this and you die, right Batlle?" she says, slapping my butt.

I glare at her, knowing exactly what she’s trying to do. She’s trying to prove she’s right about Alessia.

- "Come on, go put it all on," urges Alexia.

She hands me everything and practically throws me out of the room, leaving me no choice but to pick another outfit. I sigh as I head to the bathroom to change. At least Mapi had the sense to think of everything. She brought me a pair of tights. She’s not my best friend for nothing. She knows I hate wearing a dress without tights. When I’m ready, I return to the room, and it’s no surprise that my outfit is approved. Then it’s Alexia’s turn, followed by Mapi and Alessia to change. Everyone has put on a dress, so I feel somewhat reassured. Mapi hasn’t had any trouble fitting in with my new friends so far. I’m glad she gets along with everyone. Then again, she’s never been unsociable, quite the opposite. I still wonder why she was so anxious. She especially gets along well with Alexia. My best friend’s extravagant personality blends perfectly with Alexia’s good mood. For the next part of the preparations, we return to our room to do our makeup. It’s impossible to do it in Alessia’s room, where we’d all be crammed.

- "Don’t you think Alessia has a thing for Ona?"

- "Stop with that," Mapi.

- "No, she’s absolutely right," agrees Alexia. "I wanted to talk to you about it before we left, but Bronze came too quickly. Even though your exchange was intense, she seemed to like that you’re lesbian."

- "Aha!" exclaims Mapi. "See!"

- "Yeah, yeah, whatever!" I roll my eyes.

Alexia teases us. Seeing that I’m not thrilled with the conversation, she changes the subject to our plans for the end of the evening. She still hasn’t changed her mind about joining her girlfriend. She’s very careful when she talks about it, knowing how I reacted in the messages. She must have realized I wasn’t too keen on the idea.

- "What’s the plan?" Mapi asks excitedly.

I had filled Mapi in. If I leave, it won’t be without her, which Alexia completely understands. Although I know she can handle herself alone, there’s no way I’m leaving her here.

- "If Alba finds out, we’re dead…" I whisper.

- "Don’t be a killjoy," Mapi exclaims. "If the love of your life were two blocks away, you’d go too. I know it! I’m surprised Alba doesn’t know, though. You seem close."

- "She’s very… protective," she grimaces. "If she knew who I’m dating, she’d lock me up for life."

She’s joking, but knowing Alba, it’s not far from the truth. I’ve never seen anyone so caring about their family as she is. It’s like Alexia is the most precious thing she has. That’s probably true.

- "So, where will your guy be?" she continues her questioning.

- "Not far. She’s spending the evening with her friends, maybe five or ten minutes’ walk away. We haven’t seen each other in a while, so I really want to go. She wasn’t too keen at first, but she finally gave in to my insistence."

- "So, if I sum up the situation, we just need to distract Alba long enough for us to leave. The best plan is to get her drunk, right?"

We laugh with Alexia. She’s just proving she’s still far from knowing my friends. Alba will probably be the last to get drunk tonight if we all start drinking. Over time, I’ve learned that she’s very attentive to those close to her and likes to look after the people she cares about.

- "I doubt she’ll drink much alcohol. Am I wrong?"

- "No, you’re right," Alexia sighs, shaking her head. "She’ll drink, but not to the point of forgetting the evening. But," she starts with a mischievous smile, "I want you to drink."

- "Me?" I ask in surprise when she points at me. "Why?"

- "Because this is the first party we’re having together. I know you drink at parties, and I want us to go crazy, like it’s our first and last night together."

I smile sadly. I know exactly what she’s thinking. Will we get to have another night like this? Tonight is an exception, and no one can say if it will happen again.

- "Bronze won’t be happy if she finds out…"

The words slip out before I can stop them. Once again, she’s the first thing I think of. I know she kind of gave me a free pass for tonight, but I promised her I’d be reasonable. Knowing that I didn’t listen to her will bother me more than I’d like to admit. Mapi groans in frustration.

- "Stop thinking about her for two seconds," she grumbles. "She’s not your mother, and you have the right to have fun."

- "I know, but… I don’t know," I shrug. "I just don’t feel the need anymore."

- "You say that now. We’ll see after your third drink."

I chuckle, shaking my head in amusement. She’s probably right. Mapi often plays bartender for me at parties. If she serves me things that go down like water, I’ll probably break my promises quickly.

- "I don’t want to lie to her when I get back, and we’ll definitely talk about the party."

- "No one’s asking you to lie. Just leave out that little detail."

My best friend’s determination makes me sigh. I won’t win on this topic. If she’s decided to make me drink, she’ll do it, and she’ll succeed. She has this persuasive influence over me that I can never resist. Sometimes I wonder who would win between her and Lucy now that she’s in my life. Has she dethroned her? I can’t say at this moment. Our conversation is interrupted by Alessia, who comes to check if we’re ready. We’re surprised to see it’s already seven o’clock. It seems everyone is already waiting for us downstairs.

- "We’re coming," Alexia announces.

She nods, lingering a bit. I realize when I turn around that she’s looking at me a little longer than the others before quickly leaving and closing the door behind her. The girls giggle, teasing me about the moment. After that, we decide to head down to start our last night of the year. We greet the last to arrive, Laia, before sitting in the remaining seats. Leah and Alba did a great job setting up the little appetizer table. They added chairs so everyone has a place. Of course, I’m seated between Alexia and Mapi. My eyes linger on the many appetizers arranged on the small living room table in front of us.

- "Alessia made everything this morning," Leah, who’s sitting next to Mapi, tells me.

- "Impressive," I say sincerely.

- "I know, right? She was on a mission. No one could stop her," she says with a laugh.

I smile timidly before looking around. I’m happy to be here. I really missed everyone. I feel like I belong here with them.

- "So, what can I get you guys?" she asks the group.

The evening starts off slowly. The drinks so far range between beer and champagne. I opted for a glass of champagne, as I'm not particularly fond of the other option. This drink is tricky because it doesn’t taste strong, but it can go to your head quickly if you don’t eat something with it. The first conversation revolves around our holidays and Christmas. I realize that it was a disaster for most people.

- "No way, seriously?" Alba laughs. "Your dad gave you condoms for Christmas?"

- "Don’t laugh, Girl," Patri responds. "He said it was time for me to find a someone. It's like he’s afraid I that I’ll end up alone."

I sink into my chair as my friends laugh. Mapi Is very touchy with me and It seems she’s not planning to stop anytime soon as she kisses me on the corner of my lips. Her intention hits me immediately when I see Alessia's eyes, half surprised, half upset. Mapi is trying to provoke her to prove she’s right, and I’m forced to admit she is. I must be appealing to Alessia, given her reactions. I feel sorry for her that it’s not mutual. I sigh and gently pull away from my best friend. No one comments on the little moment. They must have noticed by now that Mapi is important to me. She’s the only one I let touch me freely.

- "I forbid you from doing that," I growl at Mapi immediately.

- "You won’t stop me," she retorts with a playful smile.

- "I’m giving you credit. Now stop."

- « No," she smiles even more. "You’ll see, it’s going to spice up our evening. »

- « You two were dating right ? » Alessia ask 

-« Yep  » I answer

- "At least you’ve managed to keep your friendship," Alba says.

- "Our friendship was too valuable to lose. We’ve become pillars for each other," Mapi replies.

After that little exchange, the evening continues, though I remain a bit on edge. Knowing Mapi, she’ll stick to her plan just to have fun tonight. Her inevitable bluntness doesn’t reassure me, and I’m worried Alessia won’t get through the night unscathed. Alexia seems to be in on it, as every time Mapi drops a hint about our past relationship in a conversation, Alexia insists on getting more details, further crushing Alessia with each revelation. Everyone is always surprised by what my ex says, as if they’re discovering a bit more about me with each little snippet of my past before I became who I am now.

We sit around the table around eight o’clock. Everyone’s already had at least three drinks. Mapi managed to position us opposite Alessia so that she can clearly see Mapi’s hand resting on my thigh under the table. Alexia can’t stop quietly laughing, watching Alessia simmer. She even asked us if we were back together, referencing our necklaces. Mapi delighted in telling her no, but that we care a lot about each other. I think Alessia might lose it before the night is over.

We eat while mostly talking about school. Leah recounts all the antics she’s gotten up to since her arrival, and the others quickly join in. I realize that no one at Camp Wiegman is really serious. They’re just lucky no one’s there to notice. If I were in their place, Lucy would’ve had my head for everything they’re describing. Bottles of wine are being passed around since Alessia offered us some sweet white wine. I recently discovered that it’s my guilty pleasure, so I couldn’t refuse. I’ve been drinking only that since she brought it out, it’s so good. Mapi wisely put a stop to it so I wouldn’t be drunk before midnight, and she’s right to do so. I almost forgot for a moment that I’m supposed to stay reasonable.

- "So, are you still studying, Mapi?" Claudia asks.

- "Yeah, in mechanical engineering."

- "Seriously? I like you more and more," Patri responds.

- "I’ve always liked anything related to mechanics," she shrugs. "I got into school thanks to Ona’s support."

- "Don’t say that, you would’ve gotten in regardless."

- "Maybe, but it was mostly your support that encouraged me to apply. You were there when I needed it most. We stick together, remember?"

I smile as I fist bump her. It’s true, we’ve always been like that. Just because I went through a rough patch doesn’t mean I abandoned my principles when I came back. I’ve always been there to help her when she needed my support, whether before or after my time with Feli. As for her studies, that was just before. She was really down about choosing her field. She didn’t know what to pursue, so I encouraged her to follow her dream, without worrying about what her family thought. Mostly her parents, actually. There was a real rift between them after her choice. They never saw her in that field at all. Yet, she doesn’t regret it one bit now, even though her parents have become even more distant.

The meal eventually ends. Everyone helps clean up. We take a break before having dessert. The girls dive into the alcohol, as does Alessia, who’s decided not to hold back tonight. My friends can’t get enough of her reactions. Poor thing, if only she knew that Mapi is doing it on purpose. I really feel for her.

We continue with the other bottles of alcohol we had brought out. Mapi chose tequila shots for the two of us. She’s starting off strong, making us take several in a row, but not enough to be out of it. I know when to stop, and I’m especially careful to snack between drinks to balance it out. We’ve turned up the music that’s been playing in the background since the beginning. As usual, Mapi drags me to dance even though I hate it. We’re quickly joined by Alexia, as well as Ella and a few other. Alessia joined us when Mapi started having fun dancing close with me like she does at almost all our parties.

We eventually return to the table when we decide to have dessert around eleven o’clock. We opted for ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Some people had coffee with it. This break was short-lived as we quickly moved on to some drinking games. For once, I managed to escape. I didn’t feel like participating when I remembered my last few parties. Mapi surprisingly left me alone. I suppose it’s thanks to Alexia, who decided to stay with me. We laugh at Patri, who is really getting drunk, unable to hold her alcohol. Surprisingly, Lotte is also feeling the effects, and even Alba is starting to let loose, much to her sister’s delight.

Midnight is approaching. There are only a few minutes left before we ring in the new year. We’ve stopped everything to gather in the living room. Leah is busy filling glasses while Alessia finds a channel doing the countdown on the TV. Once everything is ready, we just wait for the countdown, which isn’t far off. We all shout it out loud together.

- "Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One… HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

I take hold of my two friends who had the idea to jump on me at the same time. We go around and kiss everyone. We even had some surprises when Patri suddenly kissed Claudia.  Mapi confessed that she gave Patri the idea after seeing them practically devouring each other with their eyes. Mapi won’t let go of me and even forces me to dance with her. I really hope this year is the one where I can finally start fresh. So far, it’s off to a great start. I’ve never felt so well surrounded. The changes I’ve been waiting for are finally happening, little by little.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

DEVIL BIRDS (VII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VIII ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader.

WORDCOUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: Various crimes & illegal activity, paranoia, angst, mentions of death, trauma, inner turmoil, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You supposed that grabbing a hat would have saved you from having to worry about being seen, but you’d been too caught up in trying to sneak out as quickly as possible. Jacket flapping, your legs move fast over the open field of your estate, sprinting through the garden beds and past the thick copse with its willow trees and pond. The pathways were overgrown and you nearly trip over upturned pieces of rock. 

But you can’t stop giggling.

Your face pulls in a fast smile, eyes alight with eagerness. You feel like you have a purpose for the first time in years.

“Alright,” you whisper under your breath as you chart your course to the town. Maybe you could even catch Hector closing up and snag a coffee off of him. “Museum. Dad’s old office.” 

At your steady pace, you enter the beginnings of the businesses as the streetlights slip over you like water, bathing you in the glow as your breath puffs out. The air was cold, and you keep your jacket tight to your form as your shoes travel forward, slowing.

In your pocket, you twiddle your coin and wonder if you should have snooped in Gaz’s things for your penknife, lips thinning at the idea.

You were stubborn, but not stupid; you knew this wasn’t a good idea. 

But…it’s too late for that now. 

Shadows grew long as your eyes darted to open alleyways to the dull wind, glee dimming the longer you walk alone. After a moment you peek behind your form and nearly forget that Kyle wasn’t there with a flinch in your step. 

Have you really…grown used to having him follow you around? 

Why did it feel so threatening when he wasn’t there?

Your body tenses as a bottle across the street falls from the sidewalk to the asphalt with a clattering ping, rolling in the way that glass does as you watch. Clearing your throat, you continue on as your heart spreads blood throughout your veins. 

“Keep it together, you’re fine,” you hiss to yourself, not liking this new way of thinking. Sure you were considered a recluse—didn’t enjoy being out more than you had to in loud places—but…hell. You can’t start relying on Gaz for comfort. 

But he saved you. Your mind slashes to the shooting in the park and you sigh as you get closer to Hec’s shop.

Kyle had been kind to you, he gave pieces of himself like leaves from a tree to try and make you soften to him. The watch and the story, the stitches that still live in your hand. Soft words. Your gut bunches in your abdomen. 

You weren’t one to push past hurts—you lived with them, carried them like a parcel of goods at a picnic. The gun, the kidnapping, the…darkness of it all. If the Sergeant was capable of all of that, well, you weren’t sure it was in your best interests to allow him to carve a piece of your soul out with his bright smiles and amused smirks.

Soon the rest of the One-Four-One would be done with their missions overseas hunting down Yaromir Osipov and Mala Kham and it would all be over. You could go back to living in your mansion, alone, with the lack of lights and the sub-par meals. The ghosts. The covered furniture and the dead memories. You press the coin deeply into your palm.

…Why didn’t you like that thought?

Hector’s place came up as you stew in your confusion, seeing the low lights spilling out over the empty streets. You hum before pushing open the door, hearing the call from the back kitchen.

“One minute!” That Jersey accent is the same as it always is. Your body takes you to the counter, shuffling out your wallet and tossing bills to the wood before sneaking a ten into the tip jar. Everything for a moment slips away until only coffee and baked goods remain. “Christ, you folks don’t sleep, do ya?” 

Hector comes out from the back, pausing before locking onto your blank face. 

“Holy shit!”’ He laughs brightly. “Hey there, Kid! It’s been a bit, how’s it all going? I’ll admit I got a little worried when you stopped showing up.”

“School’s been tough,” you lie easily, shifting a smile to your lips. The man gets going on your drink immediately as you explain. “Thought I’d go on a walk and stop by. I’m heading into the city.” 

Hector stills momentarily, fingers twitching as he pours your drink into a cup. His throat hums out slowly, “The city? Ain’t it too late for all of that? What’re you going there for?”

“Just,” you pick up your addiction and let the warmth seep into you. What was the harm in telling him, after all? Hector was the closest thing to a friend you could have right now. “Wanna head by the museum. Feeling sentimental, I guess.” 

You almost hated how easy it was to lie to everyone.

“Ah,” the man nods and you stare at his neck before blinking at the sound of the phone ringing. “Shit,” Hector darts, and you had seen his heart dashing in his breast. “That’s me, Kid. Gotta take this.” 

He slips a hand into his pocket and disappears back from where he came from.

“See you,” but Hector’s already gone and you sigh out, “...later.”

You turn on your heels and leave, something akin to confusion in your chest. Strange, not even a goodbye. If Hector was one thing, it was usually casual.

“Whatever.” 

The train ride is silent as you sit in the back, stiff in your seat and not enjoying the eerie silence at all; sipping on your drink. Every time you look across to the emptiness you’re stuck with a great bout of unease but every time tell yourself that this was the only way to get answers. Your father’s office had to have answers, even as small as a single word. 

There just…needed to be something. There had to be.

When you step off into the station and lightly jog away, you pep yourself up with this thought as you drop your empty cup into the trash.

If you find information about your dad and his dealings, maybe Kyle won’t go absolutely ballistic if he finds out you left. You almost cringe at the thought of his tight jaw and clipped words; his silent broodiness wasn’t in your control. That was what terrified you. 

Like a cat you slinked along the streets, recalling the route you took so often when you were younger—the bookstore across the road, the Irish bar you’d have to pass as you slide left. Skyscrapers and planted trees, fast cars with their lights on. It was all familiar, and in that fact, you took the smallest comfort. 

Despite it all, there were still remnants of a time long passed. There were still pieces, and the museum was the biggest piece of them all.

Your eyes dig into the dark and blackened building with its white pillars; two sets of stairs leading up and up. It’s wider than it is tall and set apart from all other buildings or stores like a sentinel of history. The parking lot is bare besides a handful of cars far out into the open area of plotted greenery, and your vision seeps like water from one place to another. Your father’s old workplace is large and imposing—a giant of cream stones. 

After a minute or two of hesitation, you take the long walk around the museum to the back across its nine acres, climbing up a chain-link fence. 

Now was really when the anxiety snuck in. 

Fingers shaking, you know there are exactly five night guards on duty; had even met a few before the accident. The problem was getting in with the front door locked and sneaking into the employee-only section. Obviously, this amounted to breaking and entering except for the simple fact that…

“Shit,” you let the rare curse growl out of you, staring at the steady blinking light inside of one of the many back windows. 

Cameras. 

When had they added those in this section? Your mind jumps from one thought to the next, straining. 

“Okay, okay,” you calm yourself and rub your neck. “Think.” Blinking, your gaze slows itself on the maintenance ladder leading to the roof, eyes slowly widening. Perhaps with all of these horrendous ideas you’re cooking up like five-star meals, you might end up killing yourself before anyone else can. “Save everyone else the trouble, at least,” you grumble under your breath.

Your foot hits the first rung when you slowly stride over and you take a breath, hands sweaty as they quiver before you grab the metal. At the side, the bright sign burns into your retinas like looking directly into the sun. It was embarrassing, really. 

“NO TRESPASSING: VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED.” Red and white mock you in their color scheme. 

“Kyle is going to lock me in the storage closet,” your mouth mutters, but you only shake your head and push upward with the thought process of everything you’d done so far wasn’t worth giving up on. 

Surprisingly, you had less reservations about all of this illegal activity than you rightly should have—a sort of distance from it. As if everything was being seen through the lens of a photographer spreading linen over his equipment before snapping that picture. Already in your head, you were counting the charges that could be levied against you with a blank face. 

Trespassing. 

Your hands and feet take you higher, the steady creak of your weight on the old metal.

Breaking and entering. 

Breath puffing out, you get to the top after a tall vertical climb, pulling yourself over the edge and slapping to the roof of the left side of the museum. Flat concrete holds the bodies of roof ventilation turbines, AC units, and electrical equipment all shades of gray and sun-bleached yellow. Flopping on your belly, you scoot forward until you’re able to shove with your arms up from the roof. 

“...Burglary,” you huff out, frowning. But was it really stealing if it belonged to your dad?

Kyle’s crossed arms and his tight lips slash through your head like the pissed-off angel on your shoulder. 

“Shut up,” you growl out to his image, stalking forward to figure out your next plan of action. “If I wanted your opinion I would have asked.”

After a minute or two of snooping, your only option came in the form of a ventilation shaft jutting out of the museum; a monster of silver metal and roaming sections like a large snake. You blink at it and play with the coin in your pocket, tapping a foot. 

The problem was the grate. 

Twiddling your fingers in your pockets, you bite at your lip and furrow your brows, knowing how much time you’d already lost. At most, you could stay here maybe twenty minutes before you had to rush back to the mansion. 

Is that enough time? After all, you didn’t even know what you were looking for. 

Taking out your coin, you roll it over your knuckles while glaring at the grate—eyes burning into the small ‘+’ of the Combination Head screws set into the four, shining, corners. Above, the moon was letting your shadow lay long over the roof. 

Halting your fiddling, you get the spark of an idea while you catch your coin, the things blue and bronze color subdued in the darkness. Looking down at it in your bandaged palm—dried blood stuck in the old gauze—you run a thumb over the engravings and slowly look back to the screws. 

“Maybe,” your voice whispers out. Flipping the metal object, you walk and slot the side of your precious coin into the head of the top right screw, jimmying it in with a growing smirk as it sits in a straight line. 

Jiggling it, the small fastening of the grate squeaks before its body gets slowly twisted to the side by your tight-knuckled grip, skin thin as it struggles to turn. A small noise of victory leaves you when the rust under the bond flakes off, the screw now quickly moving outward for you. 

You didn’t want to blow your own horn quite yet, but this was going smoother than you could have hoped for. 

When all remaining screws were on the roof and your coin was back in your pocket, you were staring at the gaping wound that is the entrance to the ventilation shaft. For the first time in the night, you wondered about the consequences of acting like this. Your father had preached honestly when he was alive—telling you that the best thing a person could be was true. 

The phone in your pocket was like a brick as your heart stampeded. 

“C’mon.” He speaks blankly, whatever sly teasing and amusement from earlier today completely gone. “Exfil point is a block away—we need to move.”

You can’t do much more than follow, your head screaming at you. 

“B-but what about…” Wanting to ask about the people who are back in the park, not quite understanding the horror yet. 

Sensing this, Kyle knows it’s better to respond briefly. 

“They’re dead.” You flinch at the truth, hearing the bitter reality settle in coupled with the man’s bluntness. 

Dead. Row, the others, your father. “But if I find the answers,” you try to steady yourself, leaning closer to the inky duct. “Maybe all of this can go away. No one else has to die. I have to…” You push forward, “I have to do this.”

Gaz’s words had touched you in the kitchen. His willingness to speak to you. No one else ever bothered. He’d be more than angry—furious with this, but how could you explain that this was so much more to you than a price on your head? You felt he already knew, truthfully, but you’d never been good at listening much less looking into his eyes to see if he’s being genuine. 

There was a piece of you that had wanted to glance up at him while you were against the island, just a swift peek. You’d shut it down just as quickly as it had come, but, still. 

The thought had been there.

Knees hitting the metal, you crawl far into the vent, enclosed on all sides except forward and backward. Not once did you think about how you’d get back out as you start taking the twists and turns of the chilled metal square, on a mission in your own right. Taking shallow breaths, you pull and slide your shoulders through, getting to the first dip and slipping down as your hands squeak. 

“Woah,” you hissed to nothing, your voice bouncing off and echoing back to your ears. “Christ.” 

Your form clanks along, trying to be as quiet as a mouse but only being successful if that mouse was being rapidly slammed against a wall. Along the way, you would have to make decisions about which way to go—right or left—and you would have to imagine yourself walking around the museum as if you were inside it. 

Paleontology down there, your head is bent to the left and you huff and feel sweat dribble down your forehead. I need to be near Botany. 

You take the right with a bit of worry set into your veins. What if you got lost in here? Would they find your body years later? You shiver and grimace. 

“Nothing will go wrong—!” Your voice cuts out as you plummet down a decline, face ricocheting off the metal with enough force to rattle your brain. You groan long and low in your throat as blood fills your nose. “...One thing can go wrong…” Your sleeve presses into your nostrils as you shuffle on slower and steadier. 

You were never making it back to your estate on time.

It’s fifteen minutes of bumbling and cursing, to your mother’s horror, before you turn to a thick grate at a dead end. Across your position, you’re able to make out a plaque on the far wall by straining your eyes through the darkness; you lock on the white letters of the self-designated ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ area. 

Your bloody lower face peels back in a breathless smile as you pant. 

Hands pressing into the ventilation grate, you prod with all of your strength and bite into your lip as you do; lungs tight with exertion. Just as you start to feel a small movement in the metal, whistling hits your ears. 

Immediately stopping, you hold your breath and lock your eyes on the slowly walking form of one of the security guards. A great frozen feeling overcomes your bones—nearly the same that had hit you when you’d been behind that garbage can with Gaz in the park. You stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed, heart in your ears. 

The guard was clothed in white and black, keys at his belt jangling and a flashlight in his hands as he spreads a tune. Large and bald, he paused across the way and turned his head in your direction. You tense and stifle a sharp inhale, ducking just the slightest bit back. 

But he doesn’t bother looking into the vent while he takes out a tissue from his pocket and proceeds to blow his nose as you watch, flinching at every loud snort. 

“Gah,” the guard rubs at his nose, “...gettin’ too old for this. Should be back at home already. Need to have Jerry give me that raise…” 

Tossing the used tissue into an adjacent trash can, the man moves on with a bend to his spine, showing his fatigue as his free hand rubs at the back of his neck. 

You put your fingers over your mouth, blinking incredulously as he turns a corner out of sight—whistles tune getting smaller and smaller.

“I’m going to have a heart attack,” you grunt, waiting a minute more before taking a deep breath and placing your shaking grip back into the grate. “Kyle, you should have tried to make me stay home harder.”

Your digging words hit no one, and you gasp as the vent cover pops off with a slide of metal. You snatch a hand to grab it, panicked, but the thing fully slips from your fingers as your heart gets stuck in your throat.

The sound when it hits the bench right under and then finally slams to the floor is enough to make you get bile in the back of your throat. 

It echoes over the museum like you had just chucked a glass bottle at a man’s head in the middle of High Mass—louder than a thunderclap. The silence that follows after is just as violent. 

It’s like you count the seconds as your hands extend from the dark square, face lacking blood and chin loose. 

Did that…what just…

When the quick, hard, footsteps start running back in your direction, you’re scrambling out of the vent faster than you can think about your limbs moving. Feet slipping and hands latching onto the edge of the opening with a thinning of your pupils as you shove yourself out. 

You land on the bench and clatter to the ground just like the vent but quickly recover against the roving pain on account of pure adrenaline. 

“Shit, shit, fuck!” Your mouth snarls, vulgar curses slipping out as you snatch the grate into your arms and push through the Authorized Personnel door with a loud shoulder shove. Darting to the side of the opened door, you slip behind it into the corner; mind running a mile-a-minute. Think!

Running would only make it worse, the guard would hear you and follow after. You look down at the metal in your hands as a shout rings just feet away—panting breath and the jingle-jangle of keys. 

“Who's out there?! Show yourself!” Your lips thin, thinking over those possible changes again and adding in another.

…Battery. 

When the guard walks through the door and takes a few steps in, wildly flashing his light back and forth, you slowly raise the vent grate in your hands. Taking a small, shaky breath, you tighten your grip and whack the man in the back of the head. 

He falls with a large thump, body hitting the ground as you stand above him with wide eyes and a guilty conscience, bones rattling in your flesh. 

“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” he’s groaning, stunned, as you swiftly place the grate on the wall and run back past him. “It’s nothing personal, really. I…you're going to be fine—a…a bruise, that’s it.” 

Dashing down the hallway, you leave him behind, but only after you steal his keys and begin to read each name tag on the walls, searching for the familiar title of your father at lightspeed.

Theft. 

“I’m such an idiot!” Quietly barking out, you take a left and skid to a stop finding the exact door you needed to get into—the one at the very end as well as the largest and most fancy looking. You could have easily picked the lock with a stray bobby pin and a stick from one of the fake plants outside in the hallway, but now with the keys…

You push through the hundreds on the chain, palms sweaty and breath not slowing down. You’re muttering to yourself in a frenzied state, feet trading weight.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, hurry up!” You find MD carved into the metal and stick the key into the door, twisting and hurrying through. Closing the door behind you loudly, you let your body pant as you hold it shut, palms to the grain; it’s a second before your forehead meets the barrier and you groan lowly. 

Rubbing at your scalp, you stand up straight and turn to the room. 

Except there is a suspicious lack of boxes along the carpeted floor.

“What!?” You yell, before you slap a hand to your mouth. “What?” Your lowered, repeated, question is strained and aggressive, but in reality, you should have expected this. It had been three years, after all. Maybe you had yet to realize the entire world hadn’t stopped just because yours had.

Jogging over to the computer, you slide the keyboard out from inside the desk and tap the spacebar to wake it up, growling to yourself. You knew they had kept your father’s things, but you didn’t know where they put them—you were supposed to have picked them up during the first year but…well, you know how that year went.

You grimace and shake your head, restraining yourself from touching your coin. 

If you could hack into the CIA database, this was a piece of cake; it took no more than a minute, already looking at the wallpaper of a woman named Lorena Bennett with her pet cockatoo on her shoulder. Immediately you head to the emails. 

“Okay, Bennett,” you say, “I need…” Typing in your father's name into the word search, you come upon one of the first emails from only a month after he’d died, eyes slipping from one word to another. “Here.”

Dear Mrs. Bennett,

Due to the unfortunate passing of our prior Museum Director, you’ll find the office assigned to you still filled with his belongings. If you would be willing, please pack up what few personal belongings he had and send them down to Eastern storage—his daughter will be here to pick them up at a later date. 

Thank you, and I wish you well on your first day, 

Member of the Board, Mr. Shaw 

“Eastern storage,” you huff, fingers twitching over the keys as you nod rapidly. “Alright, okay. I can do that.” You couldn’t do that. 

Sweating, you close out the email and power down the computer, putting it all back where it was. Was it wrong for you to want Kyle here with you? You could do with his steadfast patience at this point. Might even applaud him for putting up with you for this long if he could take point on this. 

For doing far more stressful things for a living, you were sure this was easy as cake for him. If anything that pushed you on. Leaving and locking the office, you carefully step over the unconscious guard and utter another apology, watching his back rise and fall with his lungs like a balloon. 

Sneaking through the halls, you pass displays and stay close to the walls, listening with strained ears as your breath seems to be the loudest thing in the museum. Rubbing at your sore nose, you make your way across multiple sections of the building, knowing every turn as if you’d lived here forever. 

“Now,” your father’s voice guides you along and you almost feel his hand on your shoulder as you slip behind a case full of ancient cat furs in the Mammalogy section. A second guard's flashlight slips above you and you crawl on the floor as she passes. “If you ever lose sight of me, I’ll head right to the place between Mammalogy and the Bone Hall. Just follow the arrows and I’ll be waiting for you, alright? I’ll always find you, Little Love.”  

You steady your breathing and slink around another display, heart constricted at the sudden need to hear your father’s voice again. You’d forgotten it after all of this time—the way he would reassure you was only a series of words without flow; a knowledge of the memory but mixed with the desperation to truly feel it. It was just…empty. 

Getting out of Mammalogy, you lock eyes on the direction map placed on the wall as the stolen keys sit in your pocket, muffled metal clinking against the coin. Looking at it, you’re hit with a wave of sadness, brows going downturned, and a rueful frown coming to your lips. 

“Guess not, Old Man.” You mutter to a ghost, shaking your head and pulse spiking when the female guard resets her path and begins to come back. Your body dashes away into memories and shadows with nothing more than a harsh sigh.

—

You stand at the bottom of the long staircase, breathing heavily and staring at the double doors of the museum storage room, grimacing but internally celebrating that you’ve gotten to where you need to go. There were multiple close calls with security, plus the unconscious man near the offices that you had to go back to. 

But here, now, you finally were able to get somewhere. 

Inserting the needed key into the door, you push through one and find rows upon rows of Archival storage boxes and cupboards all in pure white and gray. Blinking, you let the door close behind you as you huff out a scoff. 

“I swear if these aren't in alphabetical order…” Your dim eyes go from one to another, but you grunt and go to find the labeled letters on the sides of the cupboards, the temperature dropping multiple digits to help the items preserve better. 

Fingers twitching over the boxes, you slide them along as you read, muttering to yourself. A few moments into your search, the familiar name of your dad comes into view and you smile softly. 

“Here we are.” Hand reaching out, you peel the object out and place it on the floor, taking a deep breath before popping the top and gazing inside. 

There were two visible objects—a laptop and a journal. 

Intrigued, your hands delve inside and take out the black leather journal with careful hands, feeling the bulk of crinkled, written-in pages. As you hold it up and tilt it over, something falls out and clatters to the ground; the clink of plastic making your eyes widen in surprise.

“And what do we have here?” A USB stick meets your bandaged flesh as you pick it up, sutures under your skin raw and tight. You pay no mind to the second pulse in your flesh and stare intently at the navy blue tone of the small object. “USB stick…? What were you doing in there?”

Your face goes curious, head tilting as you move the stick around in your hand. With a hum and a serious edge to your brows, you hide the object in your jacket’s pocket and quickly take up the remainder of the belongings. Putting the box back where it was, you high-tail it back out the door, lock it, and dash up the stairs. 

This had to have everything you needed in it—a full laptop that with any luck was still intact, a journal, and a USB stick. The stick alone could give you swathes of information, and the journal…you hold back a yell of victory. 

Your dad was sure to have something in all of this mentioning the donations and the moniker. The documents with the same date and printed red ink. There was something there; on the cusp of a great discovery like an anthropologist on a dig site. A pressure in the back of your mind—incessant ringing. 

Something. 

Getting back was easier now that you knew the places to avoid, and as you slip the keys back onto the unconscious guard's belt, you take back up the grate in one arm. Going back, you stand atop the bench below the vent, huffing as you shove your father’s things up first. 

“What would Gaz do?” Your voice questions, hearing the long groaning from the downed security behind you. Sighing, you leave the grate on the bench, climbing back up with your muscles straining. It’s a slow crawl back to a section where you can actually turn your body around and at that point, you’re annoyed with the tightness of the vents. 

But you do it, regardless, dangling your arms out of the square to twiddle your fingers above the grate before you finally claw it back up and twist it around, flesh pinched as you handle the long slats to manhandle it back into position with a defining pop of steel. Like a kangaroo, you slip the journal and laptop into your jacket, zipping it up and letting the objects hang as you shuffle backward—able to turn back around one more time as you begin retracing your steps. 

You’re sure you're going to be sore tomorrow from all of this activity. 

“If,” you bonk your head and hiss, glaring at the ceiling as you climb upward. “If Gaz lets me live that long. I’ll be lucky if he even makes me dinner anymore.” 

There’s a part of you that realizes the effects of what this might bring. A small portion of unease and…fear. But there were things that you had to do alone, and this was one of them. It was your father that had been wronged, and it fell on you to finish this story, for ill or for better.

When you finally make it to the roof, you heave a breath of fresh air, basking in the open land. The grate screws back on easily with the help of your coin and hiking your father’s items higher in your grip, you speed to the ladder. 

Even without checking your phone, you know you have missed calls—missed messages that number in the hundreds. It was far past midnight; you were stupid to think you’d be back on time. 

“At least let me come up with a good excuse before I see him.” But still, you’re filled with a sense of elated accomplishment, your body quivering with adrenaline and happiness as your mouth opens in quick chuckles. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I did it! I’d like to see him hold a grudge against this.” Feet moving quickly, you get to the top of the ladder and bend down, smiling wide and cheeks pulled back with glee.

You looked over the edge of the roof, irises sparkling like gems as your throat holds giggles and puffs of excited breaths. Only you don’t lock into the ground feet below. 

Instead, brown eyes like tree bark glare up into yours with hidden fury.

And then the black vehicles pull up with a screech of tires.

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[beevean]

This really should have been a one-shot. Oh well. Sometimes recyclying abandoned writing can come in handy.

Anyway, I'm honestly proud of this one :) Hector has finally been slapped in the face with a healthy dose of character development.

~

“I… I eventually tried to reason with him, to the best of my capabilities. I hoped, with all my heart, that he would lend me an ear.”

“Oh, my! Did you succeed?”

“Succeed? Had I been anyone else, I would have become a banquet for the vultures. I’m only alive because I was too useful to waste.”

“Hector…”

“Don’t tell me, I know that I was a fool. How arrogant of me, to believe Count Dracula saw me as anything more than one of his belongings!”

« I am going to ask you once, Hector. What, » and the bowels of Hell resonated deep in Lord Dracula’s voice, « are you talking about? »

Hector had an entire speech prepared, he had perfected it and memorized it. It evaporated into thin air, under the gaze of the vampire, burning like hot embers.

All illusion of control had slipped out of his grasp. He could not slow how his heart hammering in his temples, he could not stop his sweaty hands from shaking, he could not loosen his stiff tongue. Had he been on his feet, his legs would have trembled, too. He was no longer the dignified General Hector: he had regressed into that trembling boy who dreaded his mother’s beatings.

Nevertheless, it was his desire for peace of mind that gave him the strength to speak.

He took a deep breath.

« I no longer believe that this war is necessary, my Lord. »

There was no reaction. Hector rubbed his arms for a second, to calm down his goosebumps, focused on keeping his head low and enunciate his next words with care: « Our objective has been reached months ago. The village of Targoviste has been razed into the ground, and no one in Wallachia will dare to show you disrespect. We have forced the Church on its knees. At this point, we are merely wasting time and resources to destroy for destruction’s sake. »

The flapping of a Fairy’s wings could have been heard in the stifling silence that followed his declaration. Hector didn’t dare to breathe, but clung onto the certainty that he had expressed his argument in a concise, logical manner. His Lord may have been caught in the throes of fury, but he was a fair ruler…

« You don’t believe. Our objective. »

Lord Dracula’s caustic voice sheared through the silence, and Hector’s heart sank.

« When did you become the Lord of the Castle, Hector? » asked the vampire, stepping closer towards him. « What makes you believe you have the right to speak to me this way? »

« I— I appeal on your generosity, my Lord—»

« My generosity is only for those who deserve it. And what did the humans do to earn it? » Poison dripped from the Count’s gritted teeth. « Did they bring my Lisa back to life? »

Hector flinched. He couldn’t counter back to such an unfair question. « N-no, my Lord, but… »

« But? But what, Hector? » Lord Dracula raised his voice; it boomed in the vast throne room. « Where is this stubbornness coming from? Did you perhaps forget whom you swore loyalty to? Whom you belong to? »

I am not a tool! I don’t belong to anyone!

« I am loyal! I am only asking, my Lord, to reconsider—»

« What is there to reconsider?! The humans have waged war on me! »

« The ones who killed Lady Lisa—” the vampire hissed, but Hector refused to stop, « they’re all dead! I saw myself to it, my Lord! Why persevering? »

« Because I am your Lord and I said so! » The more agitated Lord Dracula grew, the more his cloak fluttered in the air, giving the impression of a cat with its fur standing up. « It is not your place to question me, boy! How dare you act as my advisor, when you still stink of milk and know nothing about the real world! »

Hector twitched in irritation.

Do you?

When was the last time Lord Dracula had stepped foot outside of his realm, concealed and isolated from the world of the living? When he fed on humans, did he ever stop to see their faces? And if so, did he recognize them as a mirror of his own?

Hector couldn’t know for certain, but the answer wasn’t hard to guess.

How could he? He’s not human.

« I thought that you understood, Hector! Do you truly believe pettiness lies only in a handful of peasants? Those creatures, they are all the same, made in God’s wretched image! And I will extirpate it, to make a world worth living in! »

It was what Hector used to believe too, as a child.

He had nodded along with the Count’s statements without thinking, because everything the Count uttered was law, it was the truth and all the knowledge of the world he needed. He had a small hole in his arm, where a boy had stabbed him with a twig in another life, calling him words now forgotten: Hector had used them as weapons to butcher children on the other side of the country.

The flames of the spite that had kept him warm for years had long died out. He couldn’t muster any hatred for men who threw themselves into the jaws of demons to give their women a chance to escape, or women who shielded their children with their body and soul.

(A memory: Abel, throwing in a wheelbarrow severed hands, under Isaac’s pleased supervision. The hand of a woman holding that of a child. The futile attempt to forget the feeling of death on his skin, to ignore it as long as he could bear, because he had a job to do.)

What did they ever do to him? What sin against Lord Dracula were they paying for?

Hector, Isaac, their Lord, were they so different from a cruel God punishing their subjects by throwing them into the pits of Hell? At the very least, God punished sinners. No, Hector could never compare himself to Him: he had become, rather, like the boys who used to beat him up for the only crime of being born.

Some people deserve to die. His thoughts resounded with Lord Dracula’s voice, Isaac’s mocking tilt, and his own old disdain. My parents, for example. The priest who sentenced Lady Lisa to death by twisting the words of his God. The cowards who never stopped any of them and stained themselves with the same sin. The world is a better place without them, and getting rid of them is only just.

What about me, then? My hands are sullied with blood. Who will come to punish me as I deserve? As a child, I had done nothing wrong, but now… now I truly am a beast.

His body was shaken by retches.

All trace of reason fled him. Hector threw himself forward and clutched the vampire’s long robe, tugging at them convulsively; he couldn’t care less about how pathetic he looked to his Lord, he couldn’t give up like this, he couldn’t, his life was on the line!

« I am human too! » he yelled, in the grip of desperation. « Do you plan on killing me and Isaac as well? »

Lord Dracula snatched his robe out of his hands, his face carved by a contempt Hector had only seen on his own mother. Never, never had his Lord looked down on him in such a way; he was unrecognizable in a way that made his guts squirm.

« Is this what this is all about? Yellow-bellied cowardice? Do you trust me this little? »

« No… no, my Lord, » Hector stammered, quivering and so small and pitiful and insignificant. The vampire could have crushed him under his boot. « But I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I am human too, I am one of those creatures you loathe so much. I beg of you. »

What was he begging him for? It no longer mattered. To stop his mad massacre, to stop using Hector as a sword, to simply listen to him, anything that did not make him feel like a worm to be eaten.

Lord Dracula let Hector’s words hang in the air for a time that stretched indefinitely. Were he alive, Hector imagined that he would be steadying his breath, much like he was. He no longer radiated wrath like molten metal, but he would not delude himself into believing the worst was over.

«You, human? Since when? »

With a delicacy that was unbecoming of such a giant and was a clear lie, Lord Dracula gently lifted Hector’s chin with his claws. A sudden twitch, and he would have slit his throat. The vampire was slightly bowed, but always imposing, more monster than person, still the same as the day Hector was lead to the castle.

« Hector. The moment you knelt at my feet was the very moment you declared that you were not human. Can a mere human being draw from the powers of Hell to create blasphemies? Can it survive in my realm, to my side? » His voice grew acerbic. « And tell me, Hector, who gave you such unimaginable power, the power you asked for? Whose essence is coursing into your veins as we speak? Who was the one who took you ungrateful lot into my home, under your request, because no human wanted you? » The claws sank inside his skin, drawing a hiss out of Hector. Lord Dracula bent forward, almost eye to eye with his General, but always above, always glaring at him with his sharp, demonic eyes. « You are bound to me in the same vein your creations are bound to you. It would behoove you to not forget it. »

He was right. Hector owed his whole life to his Lord, he would not be the man that he was without his guidance. Yet, all the gratitude he could feel for him was no longer enough to strangle the protests sprouting in his chest.

I’m not a devil. I’m made of flesh, I bleed if cut. I’ve grown. I’m the same as those people I have slain.

But, before he could begin to move his lips, as quick as a snake Lord Dracula grabbed Hector by the throat, and squeezed, and lifted him on his feet; Hector gasped, but not enough air could pass through his throat and he was held upright by a monster who could kill him with a thought and what had he done, his head throbbed fiercely, it wasn’t meant to go like this!

« I will never stop, » Lord Dracula murmured with an icy calmness, as if his General wasn’t thrashing in his hand. « Their cries of sorrow are my nourishment. As long as a single breath from the last human being can be heard in the air, as long as God walks the earth through them, I will not find peace. Power is absolute, and my power shall be felt by all I see fit. Yourself included. »

Yes, Hector could sense it perfectly, it flowed from the palm of the vampire through his skin, a poison absorbed until it rotted his guts. He could sense it in his spasming throat and his eyes that stung from the terror and humiliation, from the realization that the Lord he had sworn loyalty to, that strict but fair and sensible man, no longer existed.

« I trusted you, Hector. I believed that you understood me, after how the humans treated you. I may have sheltered Adrian, and I deeply regret it, but I truly thought you were better than this. »

Prince Adrian, yes, the only person with sense in the castle, the only one who had caught the signs of his father’s madness before it degenerated. He and Hector had stopped greeting each other a long time ago. Hector couldn’t help but wonder if the Count had ever raised his hands on his son, repeating the same words he was saying to him, in the same disappointed tone, pretending to have only a wounded heart and not pride. He should ask him.

« Where does your loyalty lie? To the creatures who rejected you through no sin of your own… or to me, who took you and forged you into something beyond humanity? »

To no one. To me! I am loyal to me! I wasn’t born to be a weapon!

It was the filthiest of blasphemies; Hector didn’t reject it from his mind. He would no longer.

The vampire’s fingers danced around Hector’s tight throat. It was protected by sturdy armor, designed so that no beast could easily chew on it. The chains holding it would fall like paper under the Lord’s claws, and then he would be free to strangle him, to snap his neck, to maim him, to drink from him to mark him further…

For a single, treacherous instant, Hector wondered whether his devils would attack Lord Dracula, their progenitor. He didn’t know. He never would have imagined that he’d ever want to know.

« If you are going to be a hindrance to me, » the Lord still spoke, with the presence of a biting winter wind, « I would be forced to take drastic measures. Isaac may not be perfect, but I can count on the fact that, were I to ask him to disembowel himself at my feet, he’d do so before I am finished speaking. This is the least I expect from the likes of you, after all I’ve done for you. »

Of course he would choose such a moment to lavish praise on Isaac, as much as it could be called as such. His friend could have it, if he yearned it so.

He bit his tongue until he tasted copper. Black spots had started to dance in his vision, which only made him heave his chest harder, in a frenzy. No, no, he did not want to die like this, not at the hands of his own Lord like a traitor and a failure.

« … I beg for your forgiveness, my Lord, » he wheezed at last.

Lord Dracula’s pressure on his neck slackened. Only enough for Hector to speak.

Words were of the essence in such a situation. Not a single one came to mind, deafened by the crushing pressure in his chest and blood rushing to his ears. Miserable little being, unworthy of his standing. Then again, his Lord did call him a child, as if all his accomplishments had lost all value.

« I spoke out of desperation. I was selfish. I thought… I thought… »

That you respected me.

Why did he believe that he among all was special? Just because he was told by his own Lord?

Hector clicked his dry tongue, and with closed eyes and a numb mind, he waited for his sentence.

« Hmph. I’ve spoiled you far too much. »

He was let go. Hector stumbled on his feet, dizzy and sore and panting and yet determined to not fall in front of his Lord.

« I will once again show you generosity. Behave, Hector, prove to me that you deserve my trust, that you do not plan to go back on your word… and I will pretend this temper tantrum of yours has never happened. Do you understand me? »

« Yes, my Lord. » Hector didn’t look at him in the eye.

« Once again. Whom do you belong to? »

To me. To myself.

« To you, my Lord. »

The lie tasted bitter.

Hector tightened his fists and braced himself for the following words of disappointment, another shower of contempt and condescension, but it never came. When he dared opening his eyes again, Lord Dracula was no longer in the throne room. He had vanished without a sound. He had left Hector behind.

Only then, he could no longer rein his sobs in – and to hell with not being a child, that’s what he was in the end, a stupid child beaten by his parent, who had clung onto a lie for far too long!

He needed to get out of there.

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 14 |

Chapter 15: Forget Me Not

TW: some awkwardness, confusing visions, Daniel makes an appearance, mentions of major character death and spoilers for the comics, a bit of Dark!Munin, The Fates, some intense memories and mentions of violence, pain, and allusions to assault, a bit of trickster god energy (I'm not super familiar with Puck and Loki from the comics, so please don't crucify me if they're not great!), threats, some cryptic shit from Destiny, a pretty big revelation, and finally, some soft fluffy goodness to give our story a happy end before the rewrite.

I really struggled with this last chapter! 😅 I think because I already know I'm going to rewrite it the words just didn't wanna cooperate with me and I'm overall not super thrilled with how it came out. I do really hope y'all still enjoy it and are looking forward to getting the rewrite whenever I have the time to get that going. Thank you all so much for your love, support and patience with this series!

Awkward felt like an inadequate word to describe the stiff silence that now consumed Hector's home. You quietly took a sip of your drink, eyes darting back and forth between the two men as they stared one another down across the living room. You’d quietly hoped that the two would use this time to let go of the strenuous circumstances they’d previously met under.

Hector finally leaned back and spoke, “Make any pregnant women cry today?”

Or not…

Dream’s face tensed slightly, but his voice was steady as he replied, “No.”

“You could’ve given us a minute to say a proper goodbye, you know,” Hector insisted with a sneer. “She had to go through so much all alone… we didn’t even get a chance to talk about baby names. I don’t… I don’t even know how they’re doing.”

This made Morpheus soften, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking about his own son, that had been long lost to him. “Daniel. Your son's name is Daniel, and he is doing well. I’ve had my raven check in with them on occasion.”

Your friend smiled and looked out toward the trees. “Daniel. What about Lyta?”

“She’s been more…” Morpheus chose his word carefully. “Restless as of late. A just reaction, I suppose, after learning all she has.”

“Couldn’t you help her with that?” Hector asked. “Isn’t that your job or something?”

“I could, but she does not wish for my help.”

“Sounds like her,” his smile was soft and sad but filled with a restfulness you’d not seen in him for a long while. “Lyta was always the stubborn one between us.”

Morpheus glanced at you, an invisible smirk plain to your eyes. “A struggle I understand too well, spirit.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stubborn?”

“I said no such thing,” he insisted with a wicked gleam in his eyes that answered the question for him.

Turning your head away, you smiled at Hector. “Apologies for bringing up such painful memories. It was not my intent, my friend.”

He shook his head and waved your concern away. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Morpheus allowed the man to show him the home he’d built, taking in details he’d missed the first time in his haste, and, you thought, the two seemed less at odds with one another by the time you departed. Your beloved remained as long as he could, spending time with you to tell the children stories while you held Sirius and got lost in the sound of his silken voice. A loud screech and a string of curses echoed from the wood, bringing you and the Dream Lord to your feet, shielding as many ears as you could reach from the vile things being shouted.

The Corinthian stumbled out of the woods with Kat hot on his heels, talons bared and clawing at him with every swoop. Her feathers were ruffled, and the noises she made were ones you’d never heard before. “Kat!”

She heeded your voice, halting her attack on the nightmare to settle on a branch beside you. The Corinthian shook his clothes off, looking at the deep tear in his suit. “Your beast owes me a new suit!”

Kat’s eyes burned. “The only thing I owe you is a slow and painful death, nightmare.”

“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded as Morpheus distracted the children.

“Is this not the nightmare that betrayed you, my lady?”

“It is,” you answered honestly. “But he has been remade now. He will not hurt me again.”

“Once is more than enough,” She bit back. “This was something you knew once.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you tilted your head at her words. “What do you mean by this?”

Kat shook out her feathers. “Nothing, my lady. If you say the nightmare means no harm, then I shall trust you.”

“Thank you, Kat,” you answered, her words still rattling around your mind, but the golden owl took to the skies before you could question her further. 

The Corinthian bared his teeth at the shredded suit jacket. “Daunty, love the new realm and all, but you gotta get a tighter handle on your greeters.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him. “Relax. I’m sure your maker would happily repair your suit if you asked nicely.”

He scoffed. “I’d rather live with the tears.”

“Stubborn.”

“Always,” he replied with a grin. “So, you gonna give me the tour, or are you too busy for little nightmares now?”

Linking your arm with his, you smiled at Morpheus, who continued telling the children stories beside the fountain. “I always have time for you, dear Corinthian.”

*

It had been a few days since you’d spoken with Hector, but the sad look in his eyes when he’d mentioned not being able to see his son had stuck with you. You approached the young tree with a gentle touch and kind gaze upon the face carved into the trunk. Hector's son was still quite young, and his tree of memory reflected such. It was smaller than his mother's that stood beside it, but the roots were strong and ran far deeper than any mortal. Daniel, you quickly realized, was special. Different. Like you.

The face seemed to stare back at you, white leaves peeking out from beneath the lush green canopy. You approached slower, urging the roots to lift and open the young one's mind to you. His memories would be few, but there was no doubt much you could learn within them. Veins of white stood out in the darkness. Some roots, the ones that borrowed deeper, were pale and sung with power and immortality. The song of The Endless. But, the tune wasn't Dreams, or Deaths, or Desires. It was its own song, still unfinished.

You walked through the light, lush still forming along the walls of his memory, focusing on the memories he found joyful. You intended to share them with Hector, a gift to show your gratitude for his hard work and kindness. That, however, was not where the tree led you.

Stumbling into the blinking light, you found yourself kneeling in deep sand. Sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap, just as it had the first time. Except now that sand, once a deep void of black, was white. It sparked like tiny perfect crystals in your palms as you stood and looked out at the miles of glistening sand and bright cerulean waves.

You knew this beach better than any save its creator. You knew the placement of each stone and the feeling of the sand as it molded to your steps. This place felt different… All at once, the beach you knew and not. It was old and new and entirely confusing.

The fragile ground beneath your feet seemed to remember you as you walked toward where the Gates of Horn and Ivory should have been. The sand didn't swallow your feet or try to slow your steps. It felt as though you were walking on nothing at all. Before your eyes, the entrance stood, an entrance that was not the gates you knew at all.

Glossy white marble caught the light and cast an ethereal glow all around you. An aura of both light and color, beautiful and bright. The gates stood open, revealing a sight you'd grown to know well. "The Dreaming."

As you passed through, you admired the fine craftsmanship of the carvings in the marble gates. A story familiar and also not… Something that had not yet been told. Familiar things were more abundant here as you walked through the town and admired the dreamers. Dreams and Nightmares, old and new, greeted you like a friend and wished you good fortune as you made your way to the palace.

The regal and beautiful palace of The Dream Lord was quite similar to the one you’d known. Only some small changes in the stone and the statues caught your eyes, but as the doors opened to the throne room, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over you at the sight. The white marble of Dream’s palace was pristine in every sense of the word, reflecting the array of light and color that swirled around the room, drawing your gaze to the tiny crystals that hung in the air like drops of frozen rain. It was beautiful, marvelous, but not what you knew to be.

The stairway leading to the throne was wrong as well, far more winding and long, a path of almost transparent crystal. The stained glass windows above the throne shifted to reflect you, a perfect vision of white mist and black dogs and golden leaves. It was as if The Dreaming was trying to welcome you… trying to lull you into a feeling of peace or comfort at all that was not as it should be. And there, in the place of the throne, you knew Morpheus to have was something entirely not his. It looked far more organic, like a split geode holding an uncontainable cosmos of stars and cosmic clouds inside it. And sitting on that throne was a being that was not Dream of The Endless. Not your Dream.

The pale being lifted his head, and not a single strand of his cloudy white hair strayed. His black eyes consumed you entirely, two small slivers of starlight shining brighter as they looked upon you. The robes he wore were white, adorned with golden designs, and there, sitting proudly upon his chest, was a glowing emerald dreamstone.

“It is a great honor to meet you at last, Munin of the Emerald Wood.” His voice was silken and light, Dream’s but not his. 

“You are not my Dream… are you?” You asked with tears building in your eyes.

With a soft sigh, he rose from his throne slowly, almost as if he thought doing so any faster would scare you. “No, I suppose I am not.”

You didn’t dare look away from him as you asked, “Then who are you?”

“The name you would likely know me by is Daniel. Daniel Hall.”

Lies. “Daniel Hall is little more than a child. You could not possibly be him.”

“Not as you know him to be,” he said, slowly descending the winding staircase. “But, as you’ve already noticed, none of this is as it was. A future carved in stone, written in Destiny’s book of things, a future only you can stop.”

“Future?” You questioned, looking around at The Dreaming. “You mean to tell me I’ve stumbled into the future?”

“No,” Daniel replied with a light chuckle. “More of a vision.”

You watched him carefully as he stood before you, hands clasped and a soft, childlike smile on his lips. “So this is what is to come then? You mean to steal this realm from Morpheus?”

His brows furrowed. “I’ve stolen nothing. The Dreaming and the title Dream of the Endless was given to me by he who came before.”

“Morpheus would never just give his realm or his title away,” you insisted. “Unless…”

“He did all he could to stop it, but The Kindly Ones were relentless in their attack. His sacrifice saved The Dreaming and those that remained.” Daniel could see the pain in you, and with a sigh, he added. “He did not suffer. Death greeted him and showed him the way. He was at peace in the end.”

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “And what of me? I did nothing while he perished?”

“There were… things complicating your involvement.” He shook his head. “It matters not. You are here now.”

“You’ve been expecting me?”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “No, more… hoping you would find a way here so we could speak.”

“Speak of what?”

"If the love you bare him is even a fraction of the love that lingers in me still…" he lifted a hand to your cheek. "Love he bore for you. Then you'll save him. You’ll ensure this future never has to be.”

With narrow eyes, you asked, “You would give up his power… his title, and his kingdom?”

Daniel nodded. “All I ever wished for was a normal life with my mother. Plots larger than me… Larger than him made that impossible. But you, you could change it.”

“How?”

“Seek out Loki and Puck. The end of your Dream Lord began with their plot and… my mother’s misguided actions.”

Loki and Puck - two tricksters that you’d only met in passing. Gods that were notoriously difficult to track down. “And how do you suggest I find them? They’re not known for making such easy.”

“Visit my mother,” he urged. “And myself, I suppose…” he chuckled again. “The two should be close by.”

You paused, listening to the faint sounds of The Forest calling you home. “What happens if I fail?”

Daniel only smiled, reaching out to lift your hand to his lips. “Then I hope this is not the last time we meet, Lady Munin. And that the next is under better circumstances.”

*

Lyta Hall lived in a modest apartment in a bustling city. Though you’d ventured into the mortal world before, it looked vastly different from what little you could remember. She was surrounded by those she loved, Rose Walker and Ged, and many familiar faces - faces you knew from memories alone. And while the apartment wasn’t large or lavish, she appeared to be happy aside from the large bags that hung beneath her eyes, telling you she’d not found any peace in her dreams.

For a while, you simply watched them, searching for some sigh of Loki and Puck’s coming mischief, but the longer you looked in, the more you felt compelled to venture closer. You wanted to speak with her, to reassure her that her husband was safe and loved. And so you found yourself in her apartment, standing in the kitchen and admiring the little notes, photographs, and memories each held. Lost in your own examining, you barely heard the sharp gasp and the sound of wood scraping against the floor as Lyta hurriedly rose from the table at the sight of you.

Suddenly you were reminded that it was not normal for people to appear in mortal homes simply, and you bashfully bowed your head to her. “Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Who are you?” She demanded, forcing her voice to sound firm and dangerous.

“We have met before,” you answered softly. “In a dream.”

Her face softened slightly. “You… you’re the one that took Hector.”

Nodding, you answered the question she had not asked. “He is safe. He misses you,” your eyes drifted to the small child in his high chair. “Both of you.”

“What do you want?” She demanded, wiping her eyes. 

“I simply wanted to apologize for my coldness that day. I was… I was not myself.” You sighed. “Were it within my power, I would have let him remain with you.”

“But it isn’t,” she answered bitterly. “It’s his power, isn’t it?”

You realized Morpheus was the he that she spoke so sourly of. “It was out of his power as well. The Dream Lord means you no harm, Lyta. This is why you’ve not slept, isn’t it?”

Lyta looked at Daniel and shook her head. “I don’t want him to come for my son… not while I’m under some spell and can’t defend him.”

“Dream of the Endless would not steal your son,” you said gently. “He means neither of you harm.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied bitterly.

“I do,” you assured her. As you watched her move to the child's side, you felt an odd power humming around her. The song of the Endless echoed from the boy, swirling around her, but beneath his song was power. A power that you knew. Lyta and Daniel froze, time halting as mist rolled in from unseen places, and their power engulfed the apartment.

"You are meddling in dangerous things, lost one." Their combined voices sent a chill up your spine, but not one of fear or anger… A feeling of familiarity.

The Mother tutted softly as she moved around the frozen figure of Lyta Hall. "Fate is not something easily changed, dear sun."

The Crone lifted her head, glaring at the babe in Lyta's arms. "And this fate is one you should not even attempt to alter."

"I won't let you do it," your voice was cold as mist rushed beneath your feet. The Forest bled into this illusion they thrust you in, dark, twisted trees casting long shadows over the three. Black engulfed your fingertips, and you could feel the darkness, the daunting power of it bending to your will. "Morpheus is mine. And none shall have him while I draw breath."

The Maiden tilted her head, eyes shining back at you in admiration. "You always were so determined."

"So headstrong and unafraid," The Mother continued, her eyes bearing a deep sorrow that surprised you.

"It is what led you to your doom the first time." Though The Crone's eyes were stiff, guarded, and unwilling to bend beneath your steady gaze, her voice trembled, lips quivering as she uttered a single word. "Mneme."

All at once the darkness vanished. You felt your power stripped away, leaving you trembling and bare before The Fates. Breathlessly you fell to your knees. Sparks of golden light and a searing, unbearable pain engulfed you until all you could do was scream.

Not a word. Flashes filled your vision, swarming like molten gold in water. A name. Fire blazed, and a burst of sickening laughter echoed in your mind. Your name.

Their hands offered you some comfort, albeit temporary. The Mother smoothed your hair back. "Do not fight it."

The Maiden stroked your cheeks. "Let it come."

The Crone looked down at you with tears in her eyes. Her palm pressed to your forehead. "Remember."

*

The first thing you saw once the blinking light faded from your vision was the orange hues of the sun setting over the ocean. You sat upon the edge of the cliffside, wind combing through your golden locks of hair, and a peaceful feeling settled in your chest. You were home.

"Mneme!" The Fates’ voices called out as one. 

Turning your head, you smiled at them. "Not too close to the edge, I know!"

The Maiden offered you a smile back. "The fall would be terrible indeed, even for one such as you."

The Mother waved, gesturing to you to come to them. "Come down from there, sweet child!"

The Crone rolled her ancient eyes and scoffed. "She won't fall! Our Mneme is far too surefooted to do something as foolish as that."

"Accidents still happen, sister self." The Mother reminded.

You squeezed her hand. "I'll be more careful."

"More careful!" The Crone laughed. "She's been careful since the day she was born, I doubt she's capable or more."

The Maiden lovingly braided a strand of your hair. "There's no harm in having fun every now and then."

The sky above had begun to shift to the deep star-filled night, your favorite. "I have to go."

"Back to that tree of yours?" The Crone asked.

"Back to the humans?" The Mother's question was far more bitter.

You kissed all their cheeks. "I'll be home before the sun rises!"

More light flashed, more voices echoed in your mind as your body felt like it would burst apart. You saw it through the slightly golden haze. The Great Tree standing tall amidst a bustling village. Its trunk was a rich reddish brown with golden leaves glistening in the low light of the fires the humans had lit to illuminate their festivities.

In the blink of an eye, you were in the tall branches, looking down at the bodies that moved below, watching the humans with wonder. You and the tree had been linked from the moment of your birth. A tree with roots that spanned across realms and lifetimes and a little spirit born of fate and memory. 

A rather simple pair when compared to the billions of other supernatural and immortal beings and creatures that existed. But, you were fine with simple. You enjoyed your time spent on Mount Helicon and watching the humans, quietly gifting them with long memories and thus making their marvelous stories last forever.

It had been centuries since you'd heard the lovely tune for the first time. The first song ever made. A simple and beautiful thing that planted a seed deep inside you. A longing for something real… Tangible… Something wholly yours. You had no idea what it would be, this thing, but some nights you could hear The Fates whispering. They must've known. There was little they did not see. So, you waited, hoping that it was something marvelous.

The memories raced by, quicker and more painful than before. You could feel the raw ache in your throat, a result of your screaming, but you could only hear the voices. It was all still fragmented, flashes of a happy life with The Fates that all shifted… The sour smell of decay stung your nose. These flashes were darker, the fragments blurry and hazed. 

You felt fire cracking under your skin, nails clawing at the wrong flesh that caged you. A laugh… A wide and villainous grin letting down at you. Unfamiliar hands touching you… Defiling you… The human's bright beauty slowly diminishing before your very eyes. You could taste the salt of your tears and feel the ache in your knees as you bent to the floor and begged. "Harken to me!" Your voice sounded so broken… Desperate. "Please, I beg of you! Deliver me from this place!"

The gentle hands that touched your head bore a somber tinge that answered the question you did not even ask. "Enough, dear one."

"You should rest," The Maiden said.

"You will need it for what is to come," The Crone finished.

"Help me," you begged them, lifting your drowning eyes. "There must be something you can do… Someone to intercede on my behalf."

The Crone's eyes turned cold as she sighed. "Foolish child. You are awfully bound. There are none that can deliver you from this place."

The Mother's eyes were filled with tears. "Not now, at least…"

The Maiden braided a strand of your dull hair. "Not when so much of you has been spent."

"I am so sorry, dear one…" The Mother pressed a kiss to your head. "Your prayers were wasted."

"No!" You cried out, rising to reach for them, but they were already gone. The chain binding you to this place scratched against the stone floor. "Do not leave me…"

The pieces fragmented further. Shattering like glass when you tried to hold onto them. All you could truly recall was a knife, blood, screaming, and fire. Darkness that felt warm and safer than what you'd known for so long and then breathlessness. You could see a rippling surface, bubbles floating away from you as the air abandoned you. 

As you sank deeper into an unknown abyss, you could see the golden strands of your hair fade to white, and a voice echoed in your mind as all else began to fade away. "You will never be rid of me!"

*

"Mneme," The Maiden's voice called out to you.

"Stop," you begged, voice raw and hardly understandable. This wasn't true… This was a trick. All of it. Their hands, cradling your head, felt too heavy. "Don't call me that."

“Mneme…” The Mother cooed softly as you shook their hands off you.

“Do not call me that! I… I cannot deal with this now. I… There’s…” You wanted nothing more than to sob, to let the information you’d just regained swallow you whole. 

Morpheus needed you. The events Daniel spoke of could still be years away, but you’d not risk it. Especially not now. Forcing your body upright, you looked into the eyes of The Fates. “I am going to change what is written. Morpheus will not perish, least of all at the hands of you.”

The Maiden’s tears were like diamonds upon her cheeks. “We take no pleasure in this.”

Your sound of disbelief caused The Mother to sigh, “Not much pleasure in it.”

“You cannot change this,” The Crone said, cold as ice once again. “Try as you might, what is will be and what will be is.”

“The only one you shall harm is yourself,” The Maiden replied.

"You will spend your power," The Mother warmed. "Spread yourself thin until all you are withers."

"Lost again to Lethe," The Crone finished.

“If anything happens to him… anything at all, it is you that I shall harm. Consequences be damned.”

You didn’t give them the chance to speak again, vanishing from the apartment and from their presence with a mere thought. The world felt both heavier and lighter, and with it, you felt both more powerful and less. Forcing the memories… the past from your mind, you put your plan into motion. It was just as you’d told The Fates. None would have Morpheus.

The meadow was quiet. From what you’d seen of the human world, there were few places like this that remained. Calm and untouched, reeking of old fairy magic and buzzing with godly power. Two tricksters lurking in the shadows. The combination of their power was dizzying and stunk of mischief. A warning to any that drew too near to turn back and hope you’d not caught their eye. You, however, would not be so easily deterred.

“What have we here?” An old and giggly voice purred from the shadows.

“A little witch?” Another chimed in, smug and prideful and filled with echoing laughter.

You showed no emotion as you addressed them. “I am Munin, Queen of realms of memory.”

A figure appeared a greenish beast with scales and fur and long pointed ears. Sharp teeth gleamed back at you as the deep red eyes of the spirit Puck glowed. “Queeny, Queeny, Queeny… why are you so far from your castle?”

Bright hair and an angular face examined you closely from a safe distance away as Loki grinned back. “Come to play with the old tricksters, have you?”

“More like come to talk sense into you,” you replied calmly, urging the wood around you to slowly shift.

The two laughed loudly, clutching their guts as they looked at each other. “Sense? Oh, we’ve not had sense in ages!”

“So I’ve been told. But, kidnapping a dream-touched child is a new sort of stupidity I thought even you two would be above.”

“Careful now,” Puck growled. “I’d surely hate to have to get blood all over that pretty white dress, Queeny.”

“It would be quite the shame,” you agreed. “Though the dress could be a trophy of sorts stained with your blood.”

Puck giggled, deranged and gleeful. “I like you!”

“Focus,” Loki insisted as he languidly stalked forward to circle you. “What’s this about a kidnapping?”

You followed him for a moment but chose to keep your eyes on Puck; he was the one you’d have to be most mindful of. “Your little plan to kidnap the boy… Daniel Hall.”

“How would you know about that?” Puck questioned.

“I have my ways.” That was the only answer you offered them. “The how is hardly the point. I’m far more interested in skipping it all together so we can focus on the bit where you both use your brains and forget about this half-baked scheme.”

Mist slowly began to seep between the trees, a low groan echoing in the air that signaled your plan had worked. Loki shook his head. “We aren’t exactly known for listening to threats from little girls.”

You smiled. “I’ve not even threatened you yet, Odinson.”

“Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing a long elegant finger at you.

“I’ll call you whatever name you see fit after you’ve agreed to leave Daniel and his mother alone.”

Puck tutted, clawed nails digging into the branch he leaned on. “Greedy, greedy. You’re getting boring, Queeny! Perhaps we should just be done with you… After all, you look so tasty!”

Sirius dove out of the mist and snapped at the spirit. “Mind your tongue, beast. Though I shall gladly rid you of it should you insist.”

Loki pulled two daggers from their sheathes as The Corinthian appeared somewhere off to the side of you, calm and collected as he casually leaned against a tree. “Naughty puppy!”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted a finger, calling forth the tree roots to bind them. “Enough of this.” The trees wound around their limbs, squeezing hard enough that were they not immortal beings, their limbs would have snapped. Loki sneered while Puck laughed. “It’d be in your best interests to leave the child alone.”

“Best interests,” Puck laughed harder. “I care little for interests.”

“You may not care,” you began, eyes turning to the god. “But he does.”

Loki shook his head, chuckling at the notion that he cared about anything at all. “You think you know me, little wood witch?”

You shook your head and walked along the tree roots. “I do not care to know you, trickster. But, I see more than just your eyes…” Memories swirled inside them, good and bad, joyful and not. “We may not have met more than in passing, but make no mistake, Loki, I know you.”

Puck was the wildcard, the mischievous being that none could reason with or bribe unless he so sought, but Loki was a god. He was shrouded in golden pride and a deep-rooted desire to make Odin love him. Loki was the one you needed to convince. Puck would follow, or he would die, a choice you’d not have to spell out for him, especially with Sirius’ watchful eye and menacing teeth gnashing in the sprite's face.

“Why do you care so much for this runt?” Loki pondered with a wide grin. “Have a soft spot for dream-touched mortals?”

“Why does not concern you.” You sat down on a high-up branch and stared the god down. “No more questions, Loki. Will you leave Lyta and her son alone, or will you die here in my little woods?”

He attempted to shrug against the branches that held him. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Puck rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to fear me! This game has gotten boooorrrriiinnggg! One little mortal, dream-touched or not, isn’t worth this kind of fuss.”

Loki glared at the sprite, clearly displeased by his so-called partner in crime's words. “Fine then. We’ll leave the kid alone. Happy now?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it,” he sneered back. “Now let me go.”

You waved your hand, and the roots released. Puck was gone in a blink, no promises made or extra words exchanged. Here then gone, just like you’d expected from the trickster. Loki remained, anger and some ugly, wounded pride shining in his eyes as he glared at you. Sirius growled. “Leave this place, trickster. And pray you never return.”

Suddenly all emotion drained from the god's face, and he laughed. “You know, I don’t much like being humiliated, especially not by insignificant little girls. Do you think you're suddenly untouchable just because you have some new realm and a bit of power? Well, you aren’t.”

Lunging for you, Loki found himself face to face with The Corinthian, who smiled as he brandished his blade. “I believe my lady released you. That means you leave.”

“I’m not scared of you, nightmare!” The god shouted.

“You should be. Hold him down for me, pup.” Sirius surprisingly heeded the nightmares command and pulled the god down while The Corinthian worked with his blade. The screams were drowned out by the trees cheering and laughing at the now mutilated god. You stood high above it all as The Corinthian finished his work and turned, presenting you with the eyes he’d plucked from Loki’s skull. Bowing his head, he chuckled. “Any other body parts I should take, my lady?”

You accepted the eyes and shook your head. “No. Kat has already sent word to Odin. Someone will be here to collect him shortly.”

The Corinthian glanced at you. “You alright, Daunty?”

Your mind was plagued with the past that you’d still not fully regained, a thing you now had broken and confusing fragments of. “Yes. There’s just something I need to do now.”

“Need a nightmare?”

Smiling at him, you shook your head and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “Not this time, dear Corinthian.”

*

Upon Mount Helicon, a secluded cabin stood overlooking the sea. The cabin was not what you’d pictured when you thought of The Fates. You’d imagined they’d live in some large palace or a winding maze, like Destiny, but there the three stood, looking out at the sea as you quietly approached. “Such a lovely sunset.”

The Mother smiled at you. “It used to be your favorite part of the day.”

The Maiden laughed softly. “You’d sit here until the yellow faded from the sky entirely.”

“One sun,” The Crone said. “Watching another.”

"Whatever the reason for this… Fondness, you bear me…" you stopped yourself, pain that you could not yet confront boiling within you like the fires in your vision. Shaking your head, you met their gaze again. "I urge you to cease these schemes against the Dream Lord."

The Maiden nodded, "Painful as this may be, you cannot run from the truth forever."

The Mother took a step closer with a sad smile. "Oh, dear one… Is this truly your wish?"

"It is."

The Crone stood before you, cold eyes slightly less so as she wiped your tears. "Very well. If it is your wish, we shall honor it. So long as Dream of The Endless does not bring harm upon you, then we shall not harm him or his Dreaming."

“Thank you… my mothers.”

The Three smiled sadly and watched you go. The Forest greeted you as it always had, offering you soft handing leaves to dry your eyes and a melodic rumbling to ease the ache in your heart. You did not know when you would be able to accept what you now knew fully, nor did you know if you’d ever be strong enough to remember the full brunt of the pain your past life had lived through, but you did know that The Fates had spoken at least one truth. You would not be able to run from it.

A dark figure emerged from the trees, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “There you are.”

“Morpheus,” you breathed, the pain easing as air filled your lungs.

His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you. “Where have you been?” His arms wound around you, pulling you into the embrace you’d fought so hard to preserve. You buried your face into his chest and breathed in his scent. “I’ve been worried.”

With a soft noise, you smiled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. There were some things I needed to take care of.”

“Is all well?” His breath hitched at the mere thought of something being wrong. 

You smoothed your hands down his chest and smiled. “All is well. I… I learned many things these past few days and have many questions that need answering.”

Morpheus nodded, soft hands caressing you. “I trust you will tell me your meaning when you are ready to?”

“Of course,” you answered. “It would be rather cruel of me to keep you in such suspense.”

“Cruel is not a word I’d use to describe you, my love.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him of all you’d learned and everything that had happened in your time apart, but instead, you simply smiled. “Would you walk with me?”

He seemed to understand the gentle gleam of tears in your eyes and quietly offered you his arm and a kiss upon your head. “Always, my love.”

The two of you walked through the misty forest until you found the cave of crystals and the lake that you’d once danced upon. Without needing to speak any words, he stepped out onto the water and swept you away into a starlit dance. With your head laid against his chest, listening… feeling the steady beating of his heart, you finally spoke, “Do you think we will remain together in whatever existence comes after this?”

“I should think so,” he answered with a soft laugh. “We’ve found one another against impossible odds thus far.”

"Well, if it should come to an end, this immortal coil we find ourselves in..." You pulled away from his chest and gently held his face in your hands. "I should like it to end by your side, that we might turn to stardust together or be bound in the roots of the earth as one. I shall not pass to whatever existence awaits us in The Sunless Lands without you, my dearest Morpheus."

With the software of smiles, he pulled a small thing from his cloak and held it between you. A ring. The stone in the center was an ethereal array of thinking stars with a branch-like band of roots twining around it. He lifted your hand to slide the ring on your finger, kissing it and whispering a soft oath, "I vow that no matter what comes, nothing shall ever part us again. I am yours, Lady of The Forest, Distress, Discourage, Daunt… Munin. In every existence, every realm and lifetime, I am yours."

"Just as I am yours, Prince of Stories. Always."

Beneath the starry skies and amidst the groaning echoes of your realm, you and the Dream Lord shared a kiss, soft and bright and beautiful. For that one moment, the past didn’t matter. Not Daunt or Mneme… you were Munin, and you were here. You were loved. And as you stared into the eyes of your lover, you knew you always would be.

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 67 - Late Night Venting

After another day of recovery, Ophelia is suddenly woken up by a call from Hilary. Xander had told her that Hilary and Hector were spending that day settling things for the divorce, so why would Hilary call to chat at 1 AM? If it were an emergency, wouldn't she call Xander?

Ophelia keeps her voice down, but Xander sleeps like a rock.

Ophelia: Hilary? Is-

Hilary: Ophelia, can you… can you please come to the restaurant? I need to talk and you're the only one who'd understand.

Hilary sounds on the verge of tears.

Ophelia: I'll be right there.

Ophelia throws on some sweats, leaves a note for Xander and teleports as fast as she can to the restaurant. She finds Hilary upstairs at the bar.

Ophelia: Hilary? It's me. Are you alright?

Hilary: I'm wearing a base game sweater. Clearly I am not alright.

Hilary downs her nectar like she thinks someone will snatch it from her.

Ophelia: I didn’t mean to start all this.

Hilary: You didn’t start anything, Hector did.

Ophelia: I could have left.

Hilary: Don't let that man place the blame at your feet.

Hilary finishes her drink.

Hilary tries to make another drink, but a cocktail is much more complicated than pouring a glass of nectar.

Hilary: Watcher damn it! Xander makes this look so easy!

Ophelia: Forget the drink. Let's sit down and talk.

Ophelia: I’m really sorry.

Hilary: You didn’t-

Ophelia: I know I didn’t do anything wrong. I do, deep down. You didn’t either, though. I’m just… I’m sorry this happened to both of us. It sucks.

Hilary: …I’m sorry this happened to both of us too.

Hilary: I do owe you an apology. I didn’t step in as soon as I heard what he was saying to you. I’ve always considered myself a feminist, and yet I just stood there and let that man treat you like trash. It's one of the most cowardly things I've ever done.

Ophelia: Xander told me you were in shock and, after the week you've had, I believe it. Your body was probably just focusing on keeping you from completely losing it. For what it’s worth, if you interrupting meant I didn’t get to slap that jerk, then I’m glad you didn’t.

Hilary genuinely smiles for the first time in days.

Hilary: You know, when we first met, I wasn’t sure what to make of you, Ophelia, but you’ve proven to me time and time again that you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and an even better heart. I’m so happy Xander has you.

Ophelia: That means a lot. Xander's told me lots about you. Like that time you told his bully you were an undercover cop that was going to arrest him cuz being a little jerk is illegal!

Hilary: I can’t believe he remembers that!

Ophelia: The kid peed himself! Pretty memorable!

Hilary certainly appreciates the distraction, but a question Ophelia asks catches her off-guard.

Ophelia: Any chance you’re hiring? I’m kind of out of a job right now.

It’s lighthearted in nature, but just reminds Hilary why she was trying to drink her woes away.

Hilary: You don’t need to worry about being blacklisted, dear. Any ounce of credibility Hector has is going out the window when the news spreads through the Grapevine Gossip interaction. People won't care about his opinion on the weather, let alone you.

Ophelia: Are you sure? I mean, it’s my word versus his and he’s a big deal around here. I know a divorce doesn’t look good for a man in the wedding business, but people get divorced all the time.

Hilary: Trust me, proof of his true nature will be made public soon enough.

Hilary: I’m sure Xander told you I spent today settling the divorce with Hector.

Ophelia nods.

Hilary: He finally confessed something to me. Do you want to know why he did what he did?

Ophelia: Uh, because he’s a slimeball?

Hilary: Yes, that too. But he told me that he had nothing left to lose, he considered it his ‘last hurrah’ before his life changed forever.

Ophelia: What the hell does that mean?

Hilary sits in silence. It looks like the thought of whatever she’s trying to say makes her physically ill. Ophelia allows her the time she needs to tell her.

Hilary: The day the kids and I left for the funeral… Tiff told Hector she’s pregnant.

He wouldn't… Would he?

Ophelia: I… She could be lying to get back at you for firing her. Maybe her garbage husband is the father!

Hilary: Ty is infertile. He can’t be the father… Even if she was lying, Hector admitted to sleeping with her. The pregnancy just worsens it.

Hilary: He's going to marry her, make 'an honest woman' of her. Maybe he's doing it because it looks better to the public than having a baby mama. Maybe he really does love her. That's what he told me, at least. That I basically pushed him into her arms.

Ophelia: What a douche. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine, but you know what? Those two deserve each other. This probably isn't what you want to hear right now, but you're so much better off without him. You didn't push him away, you threw out the trash.

Hilary: Deep down, I know this divorce is for the best, but… I’ve never been so scared in my life. I have to take over my parents’ restaurant, which just lost a good chunk of catering gigs from La Coppia Serena, and now I have to be a single mother? I don’t know how I’ll do it.

Ophelia doesn't know what to say but tries her best.

Ophelia: I know how. You’ll do it because you’re a strong, brave, amazing woman. Taste of Tartosa is already the best restaurant in town. Now that nothing's holding you back, you can focus on making it even better. If you need help, you know Xander and I will do what we can. We love spending time with the kids, so if you ever need anyone to keep an eye on them, call us. Whatever you need, we’re here for you.

Hilary can’t put her gratitude into words, so she doesn't try. She just lets Ophelia hug her. The two silently hold each other, trying their best to let the hug heal some of the pain they've gone through.

For the first time in a while, things feel like they're going to be okay.

By the time Ophelia gets home, the sun is out. Xander is waiting for her on the couch, having found her note. He wants to know what Hilary said, but she doesn't tell him much before falling asleep on his shoulder.

He pulls her closer and allows her to rest. She earned it.

[pelideswhore]

the horror and the wild (and achilles)

basically i’m trying to explain why the songs that are in my iliad playlist are there at all and ofc i’m starting with none other than achilles. I’m gonna do this line-by-line so you can listen as you read but i won’t be doing repeated lines. enjoy <3

also, yes, i am aware that the song is written about an abusive relationship between father and child, and i love listening it to it in that sense (yes i’m traumatized) but in this context it’s obvs different. my ability to make everything about achilles is a gift that keeps on giving. if you don’t want this song to have different meaning than what it’s actually about, just stop reading.

You were raised by wolves and voices, every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed —

The ‘you’ in this line is Achilles, who knew from a very young age that he was destined for greatness. He based his entire personality around the fact, hence the having been ‘raised’ by voices. The ‘wolves’ also remind me of the fact that he a) spent many years in a cave with Charon and b) had many father figures. I mean it. Count them.

They said it all comes down to (you) —

This ties in with the previous line. Achilles really was told that the fate of the war and hence the entirety of Greece depends on him, when he was literally a child. That’s way too much responsibility for a five-year-old if you were looking for parenting tips.

You’re the daughter of silent watching stones, you watch the stars hurl all their fundaments in wonderment at you and yours, forever asking more —

I mostly connect the female part of the song to Thetis. Firstly, I feel like this segment already makes her feel like an ethereal, divine being (although Madeleine’s voice does that well enough ngl), at the same time it also describes her character very well. The fact that the stars ‘hurl all their fundaments’ reminds me of Book (idk what book it is), where Zeus fulfills Thetis’ wish on Achilles’ behalf, no questions asked. I also feel like some people forget that Zeus literally wanted to marry her, she was that gorgeous, so ya.

You are the space that’s in between every page, every chord and every screen. You are the driftwood and the rift, the words I promise I don’t mean —

I don’t know what this means. Love it tho.

We’re drunk, but drinking; sunk, but sinking —

I love this line so much, you have no idea. It brings up the idea that while they all know that they are fated to die and it is guaranteed, there’s still living it in real time. They’re eating, laughing, speaking, with the knowledge that tomorrow they won’t be able to. They’re dead men walking. Also, on a less existential note, it reminds me of the fact that they’ve doomed themselves by starting the war and yet they continue it. They’ve dug themselves a hole and instead of hopping out, they dig deeper.

They thought us blind, we were just blinking —

Patroclus and Achilles now: Their decision to put the war on hold, a momentary action, is the blinking, in relation to “blindness” which would’ve been leaving. The ‘they’ who thought them blind could really be Agamemnon, who underestimates and insults Achilles with the little party he sends to him. Or it could be Hector and the Trojans who believed they were safe … and then Achilles came back.

All the stones and kings of old will hear us screaming at the cold —

The stones are a perfectrepresentation of the Trojan wall and the kings, well, that’s the current Trojan royal family but also all that have passed. They will hear Achilles screaming at the cold, which could be the sea or Patroclus’ corpse if you want to take it literally. When he hears the news of Patroclus’ death, his screams do in fact reach Troy.

Remember me, I ask. Remember me, I sing —

Yeah. Remembrance for Achilles is obviously a big thing, so I’m not going to go super deep here, however the switch from ‘ask’ to ‘sing’ is really nice, considering we’re taking about an epic that was sung in remembrance of Achilles. The first word of the Iliad is literally ‘sing’.

Give me back my heart you wingless (thing) —

This could very much be about the fight for Patroclus’ corpse, but Achilles didn’t even know that was happening at the time, so instead I just make it about Achilles wanting Patroclus to be alive again. He does in fact refer to him as “his soul’s far dearer part”.

Think of all the horrors that I promised you I’d bring —

To me, this sounds like Achilles referring to threats he made to Hector about killing him and bringing destruction to his people. While the threats were empty at the time, now, after Patroclus has died, he takes them very seriously.

I promise you, they’ll sing of every time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child —

In the song, this is the same person as in the lines before and after, considering it’s a song about a father and his son, but to me, this line is about the fact that Achilles wants the affection Patroclus showed him to be remembered. He doesn’t want the love they had to go forgotten. This is 100% caused by the fact that in my writing, Patroclus and Achilles’ hair is a huge thing you might want to look out for if you read it lols. OH also, the fact that he cuts it after Patroclus dies is like a “if you can’t touch it, no one can” moment.

Witness me, old man, I am the wild —

Back to the Trojans. ‘Old man’ here obviously means father but we’ll just ignore that and apply it to Priam, specifically to the scene where he comes to Achilles’ tent and asks for Hector’s corpse back.

You are the son of every dressing up box —

Honestly, I have no idea what this means. It definitely does remind me of Achilles hiding in a costume among the princesses in Skyros, but that doesn’t hold all too much significance. Dressing up is also usually a kids’ game which reminds you that he’s really just a kid pretending to be someone he’s not.

And I am time itself, I slow to let you play. I steal the hours and turn the nights into (day) —

Instead of giving the female voice just to Thetis, I could classify it as divine interference as a whole. This line specifically is giving me Athena vibes, though she is not time itself. The way she refers to what would be battling in this context as ‘playing’ shows how superior she is and how much she looks down upon even her favoured soldiers. It also reiterates for the millionth time that these soldiers are really just children. The fact that Athena has to ‘let’ him or allow him to play illustrates that Achilles is dependent on divine interference to win his battles, but specifically the duel with Hector.

Day by day, oh lord, three things I pray, that I might understand as best I can how bold I was, could be, will be - still am, by god, still am —

Here we get to the self-reflection where Achilles realizes that he was never as great as he thought he’d be, and that he had failed his people by not using that greatness to its full potential. The ‘will be’ and ‘still am’ parts are just him hyping himself up to take revenge on Hector, reminding himself that he does have the strength to do it.

Fret not, dear heart, let not them hear the mutterings of all your fears, the fluttering of all your wings —

I don’t know how deep I can go into this beyond what it literally means. He simply can’t let on that he’s scared. I guess the wings do represent his inner demons, but it’s also kind of funny when you think of him being Podarkes aka. having “winged feet”.

Welcome to the storm, I am thunder —

In the storm that is the war, Achilles is the thunder, the loud thing everyone fears. It’s quite interesting to consider that in reality, thunder is safe. The danger is the lighting. In my mind, Achilles considers Patroclus to be the lightning, which makes sense when you remember that after his death Achilles admits that he is not the best of all Greeks, but Patroclus. This leaves Achilles to be the thunder, the echo of what truly mattered.

Welcome to my table, bring your hunger —

This is similar to the line before. It’s his table, his war. Hector is the one that has to come prepared, ready to fight, but also ready to be served, ready to die.

[stellerssong]

Well since you kindly sent me five words I will send you five as well; “never,” “gonna,” “give,” “you,” and uhhhh…. “chickenpox”

never

from “meet you up high in your anger,” aka the healing generational trauma/hashtag mixedkidproblemsdanny fic:

“No. Don’t say that to me. Don’t ever.” Her companion stops at once and lowers his head, acquiescent. An unfamiliar gesture, formal, almost courtly. Hector had never been so stiff with her, not even when they’d first met, when they’d barely spoken three words to each other. Her companion doesn’t look like Hector when he moves like that. He looks like a stranger. Lyta’s not sure why, but that makes her so, so angry.

gonna

from a fic that will be of interest to absolutely no one, unless there are secret silm fans lurking in my notes, and if there are, everyone’s going to have to get real cool with a lot of loosey-goosey-ness around the good professor’s legendarium REAL fucking quick:

“Hey, Dad,” Arafinwë manages. Far too late, he manages to straighten up. He hopes neither Dad nor Olwë notice him rubbing his chest. He’s gonna have a bruise there later, he just knows it.

give

from “or with his nails he’ll dig them up again,” aka the Revealed To Me In A Dream fic:

“You made her forget,” he says slowly. “I didn’t make her do anything,” Hades replies. “She signed herself away; I took what she had to give. That’s all.” “But you did take something from her. Her memories. Her—her self.” “If you’re going to get on my case about a system that I’d had running smooth as anything since the dawn of time until you came along to fuck it all up—”

you

from the fic with three titles that i should really a) decide on a singular title for and b) decide whether or not it’s worth the rewrites it’ll take to make it postable, lmao:

“I am in the expanse between stars,” you murmur. Prickle-fuzz texture of her shaven scalp against your lips, as near and as real as the pull of the cosmic rays, the lightless black of the void pressing into your eyes, the steady stroke of countless wing-paddle-appendages against the nothingness.

chickenpox

shocking literally everyone, this word does not appear in any of my recent wips! so i’m going to take it as dealer’s choice and give you all a random quote. and in the spirit of randomness: surprise! it’s more elves.

But there’s such a thing as overkill, and Ñolvo is what Arafinwë would lovingly call “stupidly, embarrassingly proud,” and it’s not that Ñolvo has fratricide on the brain, but if Fëanáro were to take a page out of Lady Míriel’s book (may her fëa find repose) tomorrow and fuck off to Mandos, Ñolvo would probably be adding “heir apparent designation ceremony” to his social calendar within the hour. So. Shades of gray and shit.

[meechatuck]

More Hector stuff, are you even surprised?

So this is a HectorxReader fic. I’ve had the idea for literally over a year now and have never had the motivation to write it...until I read a ScroogexReader fic. Yes I am on the Netflix Scrooge is a GILF train, no shame. (His VA is dreamboat Luke Evans.)

Anyways, I laugh that this was supposed to be a cutesy fic and not too long. It ended up being a little over 4k words and on the NSFW side (nothing explicit, but very suggestive!). Yet when I try and make something NSFW it turns into cutesy fluff. I see an unfortunate pattern emerging.

So here you are. A HectorxReader fic. Never written one of these before and I think I managed to make it gender neutral. I guess let me know! I would rate it as mature as it’s pretty suggestive and there's sexual tension, and some hot kissing. I do plan on posting this to my AO3 eventually.

Hector x Reader Fic: Measuring Up

4K words

Rated: Mature for suggestive sexual situations, sexual tension, making out.

As one of the head tailor’s children, you are expected to help out with any and all matters of dressing the King & Brotherhood of the Dark Kingdom, even getting the lost measurements of the dubious, but attractive Hector.

____________________________________________________

Your nerves were shot. You couldn’t believe that your father was having you do this, but secretly you had dreamt of this. Since moving to the Dark Kingdom you had wondered what the people here would be like, especially the members of the Brotherhood. They were legendary.

Quirin was a tank of a man. Stout, strong, and, surprisingly, one of the sweetest people you had ever met in your life. His fierceness came out when training with the guards and other Brotherhood members, which was easily seen, but outside of that you had seen him help the locals with their gardens and discuss different planting strategies with the farmers (who knew that was even a thing!). The best was seeing his love for his quirky son Varian. He was a giant softie under that stoic exterior.

Adira. Oh Adira. She was a gorgeous and deadly woman. And she knew it. You couldn’t even count the number of times she had thrown her opponents across the training ring. The only thing that outmatched that woman’s strength was her confidence in herself. Adira could level any opponent, even Quirin and King Edmund, and come out with hardly a scratch on herself.

They were both amazing warriors, but one member of the Brotherhood had caught your eye. And dammit he always seemed to be right there, in the corner of your periphery. And if he wasn’t there, he was in your thoughts. The wild gleam in his green eyes looking right at you. His swaggered gait, surely from years of injuries and fighting.

“Don’t forget to write down the measurements! And don’t lose them!” your father called out as you made your way to the stairs.

“Got it!” you answered, realizing that you were going to his quarters. Hector.

In the last few days, there were preparations being made for a certain Brotherhood ceremony that was a tradition since its creation. Their usual ceremonial outfits had long since degraded into nothing but rags, due to sitting around here in the castle for twenty-five years. Your father was the head tailor for King Edmund, who requested your father to make new outfits. Everything had been straightforward and going smoothly, until it was discovered that Hector’s measurements had been lost.

You had seen your father lose his temper before, but this caused him to have a conniption fit. Luckily, you hadn’t been the one to take the measurements. You knew how and had done it plenty of times, but your father had entrusted it to your older and very single sister, who had no idea where the paper had gone. In the heat of their discussion, you were there in the room, sorting and cutting fabric when he suggested that you get the measurements. At first, you smugly accepted, seeing the furious look on your sister’s face made it all worthwhile. But now, as you ascended the stairs to the floor where Hector’s room was, you suddenly felt ill.

It crossed your mind to go back and see if someone else could do it, but giving your sister that satisfaction was out of the question. You had to do this. Not only to prove that you could be trusted with things like this, but you had been dying to talk to Hector alone for weeks. It wasn’t like he didn’t know who you were, but there hadn’t been many times to have much personal discussions. Or any kind of a discussion other than small talk and fixing clothing. He was gone from the castle a great deal; hunting, training, gathering intel, taking out rogue bandit groups, other things like that. Several times when he came to have something of his patched you would leap up and get to him first. Those conversations were quick, but oh so enjoyable. The only unfortunate thing was that a family member was usually around, so you would keep any flirting to a minimum to avoid being found out and teased.

But this was your golden opportunity. Your shining moment. You would have uninterrupted time alone with him in his quarters.

Your stomach churned uncomfortably and you swallowed down an inkling of heaving. You could do this. It was just flirting. You’d done it before. Whether or not it had been successful was another question, but still! You could do this! It was your one and only shot to show him your professional tailoring skills as well as show him your interest.

Suddenly his door was in front of you. Trying to control your uneven breathing, you adjusted the small bag of supplies in your hands and knocked firmly on the door. The seconds it took to finally open felt like centuries.

The door opened, revealing his piercing green eyes, “Uh you’re the tailor’s kid right?” He tapped the door for a moment in thought, “Y/n?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered and bit your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself calm. “I’m here to get your measurements again, they were lost somehow. I apologize if it is an inconvenient time. I can come back tomorrow morning if that suits you better.”

“Nah, now’s fine,” Hector waved, opening the door more. “Come in.” You stepped into his room and he closed the door behind you. “I needa change right?”

You glanced him up and down and nodded, “Yes that would be best. Something more form fitting will allow me to get more accurate measurements.”

“Alright,” he drawled and walked to the other side of the room. “Do ya mind turnin’ ‘round?”

Your quizzical look rapidly changed to embarrassment as he started to tug the tunic he was wearing up and off his body. “My apologies!” You spun around, hoping he hadn’t seen the heat creeping into your cheeks.

After an awkward wait, he told you he was ready. You turned to see him standing in front of his fireplace in a black, form fitted jumpsuit of sorts. All the saliva in your mouth seemed to dry up as you looked him over. You tried to tell yourself it was for tailor purposes, but the way your eyes lingered over his form said otherwise.

“Uh yes, let’s get started!” You stated stepping over to him. The bag you brought was carefully emptied onto the small side table in front of him. You unrolled your tape measure and laid it across the back of your neck and let the ends dangle down by your hips. You placed your small sewing book and a stick of graphite on the table and flipped the book to a blank page. Turning to face him, you took a deep breath preparing yourself. Measuring someone for their clothing was routine for you and you were going to try your damndest to keep it that way. You wouldn’t let your mind get carried away, even though it had in the past in your daydreams.

You started at the neck line, asking him to stand in his normal stance. You closed the space between the two of you, getting close enough to wrap the tape measure around his neck.

“Feels a lil dangerous with ya doin’ that,” he playfully commented. You raised your gaze to his, seeing him looking right at you.

You tried to focus on getting enough air into your lungs so you could reply, “I uh, can see why you’d think that.” A short laugh followed your statement as your brain scrambled for what to say next. “But you don’t have much to worry about with me, I’m only dangerous with scissors.” You felt your face heat at your ridiculous reply.

Hector chuckled and you felt your blush spread to your neck. Trying to recover, you focused on your tape measure, making sure that it was sitting in the right places before tightening it slightly. The dim lighting from the fireplace illuminated him from behind, making the markings on the tape almost impossible to decipher. Moving your face just inches from the tape measure, you could finally read it when you realized your face was also inches from his neck. The gentle rise and fall of his chest seemed to quicken and you swiftly stepped back. “Got it, 13 1/2 inches.”

After the measurement was written down, you moved to the next one: the chest. Hector stood close to the fireplace, close enough that circling around him would cause him to need to move. You knew it was best if he stood still, to ensure the tape stayed level. “I need to measure the chest next,” your words came out a little shakier than you wanted. “I’ll have you hold your arms up a bit so I can get the tape around you.”

Hector obeyed and you reached both arms behind him to exchange the tape between your hands. His woodsy scent filled your nose as you stood close to him. You hesitated to pull back, basking in the warmth that radiated off him. Or was it from the fire? If you encircled your arms you could pull him close in a tight embrace. The thought caused you to stiffen and jerk back, the tape almost slipping from your grip. You thought you saw a smirk play on his lips, but kept your gaze down at your tape measure, the only thing grounding you. Your fingertips brushed his chest. He wasn’t well-muscled like Quirin or Adira, but perfectly toned beneath your light touch. It was one of the things you admired about him. He favored the speed of attack over brute force. A certain memory surfaced, one of him showing off his acrobatic abilities when training some of the recruits. The way he could move his body and flip through the air. That mischievous smirk on his face.

“I ain’t a tailor or nuthin’,” Hector’s drawl pulled you from your thoughts. Your eyes found his hooded-and possibly sultry?-gaze. “But that might be a bit tight there.”

You saw that the tape was indenting into his skin, “Oh, yes. S-sorry.” You loosened it and leveled the tape back out, one of your hands pressing it down as subtly as possible. He swayed forward and your hand was feeling his firm pectoral. The heat in your face and neck traveled down into your gut, making your mind run wild.

“No problem.”

Your brain barely processed the numbers on the tape measure and you recorded them in the book. “Next is your sleeve measurement-” you paused, worried that you were annoying him with your narration of the process. “Sorry, you probably don’t need to hear me explain every detail of what I’m doing to you.”

He leaned in, his face close enough you could see a faint scar near his upper lip. You had never noticed it before. “I don’ mind it.” His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “I don’ mind it at all.”

You swore his eyes seemed to burn with some kind of desire, but your mind asked how that could be. Another part of you worried that you were just imagining it. You managed to squeak out an okay before asking him to turn around. You gently pressed the end of the tape at the middle of his back, between his shoulders, and pulled it to the curve of his shoulder. Your first and second finger held it in place, then pulled the rest of the tape measure down to his wrist. You wrapped your middle finger and thumb around the tape, securing it, as you lifted his arm up to see the number. Mentally noting it, you could have sworn you felt his pulse and that it was at a racing speed. As you wrote down the measurement, you started to wonder if this was a bad idea. You were so distracted and he seemed to be acting strangely. There was no way that he was interested in you like that, you had to be making him uncomfortable. But then why did his eyes look so alluring? Or was that just how his eyes were?

Taking a deep calming breath, you decided to get through this as quickly as possible. For both your sakes.

You breezed through the next few measurements. Waist? Check. Width of the hips? Check. Waist to hips? Check. Thigh, knee, calf, and ankle? Check.

As you wrote the last few down, you realized the next few minutes might be your undoing. Crotch measurements and inseam. You decided, for your own mental sanity, to have him help you with the crotch measurements.

“Please hold this here,” you instructed, holding the end of the tape on his stomach at his waist. You squatted down and exchanged the tape at his knees, nowhere near his crotch. Bringing it up from behind, you brought it up to his waist line. The tape measure fell in the front and Hector managed to snatch it before it hit the ground.

“Ah shit,” Hector mumbled.

“It’s fine,” you offered. “Just put it back at the waistline.”

“Where?”

You held the tape in place on his back and moved to stand at his side. “Right here,” you explained, faintly touching the spot.

“Kay.” His smooth voice suddenly took on an enticing tone. You realized his arm was brushing against your chest. Then, his hand rested over yours. “Like that?” The air was almost sickly warm, humid. You could feel his exhaled breath on your cheek.

“Y-yeah.”

Hector moved, enough that you weren’t touching, but he was still so tantalizingly close. Wading through the fog in your brain, you remembered that you were taking measurements. Your movements were sluggish, getting back behind him to see what number the tape was at. You released the tape measure once you had the number, two could play at this game. As you stepped in front of him, your hand brushed his hip and down below his navel.

“Thanks for the help,” you breathed with a smile and grasped the tape measure. As you slowly turned, you let your hand brush back over his lower abdomen, and recorded the measurement.

Straightening your posture and turning back to face him, you saw he was looking away and covering his mouth. A streak of apprehension went through you. “This is the last measurement, then I can leave.”

“The leg one?”

“Uh yes,” You answered, noticing his averted eyes.

“Kay.”

You proceed carefully, unsure if you had been to forward with the flirtatious touching just moments ago. But if it was too much wouldn’t he say so? Hector was not someone to hold back from speaking his mind. As your knees touched the floor, you glanced at the current inseam of his outfit and bit your lip. It was a very fitted outfit and, of course, it was at your eye level. The tailor part of your brain finally wriggled forward, “Do you have a preference on where your inseam meets?”

Hector took a moment to answer, almost like he was distracted, “What?”

Grimacing, you tried to think of the best way to reword the question. Straightforward was best, but not the most tactful. “Where would you like the crotch of your pants to be? Usually it isn’t as tight as your uh current clothing.”

You were grateful to at least be down below him, so he couldn’t see you blushing furiously. He was quiet for a time, making you worry about this whole encounter and think that your father should have come himself. If this all was completely unwanted, what would Hector say to others about your family and how they raised you?

“I dunno. Whatever ya think would be best. Yer the tailor right?” he finally broke the silence.

“The inseam is usually an inch or so below where it is now,” you explained,then started running the tape measure up his leg. Halfway up, you realized that your hand was practically stroking his leg, but you had to hold enough pressure to keep the tape in place. You felt him shiver at your touch and tried to focus, hoping it was a good expression of his current state.

Looking over the tape to ensure it was properly placed, you mentally noted the number and pulled your hands from him. You let out a small sigh of relief, finally finished with this task that should not have been this difficult. As you moved to stand, your gaze went up to find Hector staring at you, freezing you to that spot. His green irises were hardly visible, his pupils dilated wide with some kind of animalistic lust. It made your insides twist pleasurably. Heat bloomed from deep down, as you realized the debauchery of your current position.

On your knees.

Looking up at him.

Your face at the perfect height that if you were to lean forward…

You didn’t let yourself finish that thought.

You just continued to stare back at him, your gazes locked together. You could see his chest begin to rise and fall faster, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose ruddy in color. A part of you was screaming to break eye contact, telling you this was too much. Then, there was that other part of you, telling you to keep that eye contact and to act out the fantasy you were sure he was thinking of.

A hand gently caressed your cheek, startling you, but not breaking your gaze. Hector’s mouth opened into a crooked smile, showing off his sharp canine. “Ya look good down there.”

Your prudish half won out.

Quickly rolling back onto the balls of your feet, you stood tall and felt dizzy. The blood rushing throughout your body thundered in your ears.. Hector's eyes softened, but you turned around before you could see anything else. You wrote down the measurement that you could barely remember and took several deep breaths.

"O-okay, that should be everything I need," you announced, your back still to him. "I hope I haven't inconvenienced you." Your shaky hands started gathering the things on the small table, placing them into your bag.

"Trust me, ya didn't," Hector's voice was steady and firm. Light footsteps came from behind and you could sense he was standing right behind you. "'Sides, I think ya missed a measurement."

Your nerves were already a mess and that statement made it worse. You knew how distracted you had been, but to be so distracted that he could notice that you missed something? You must look absolutely pathetic to him.

Wrapping your tape measure back around your neck, you turned, facing him, "What did I-" You didn't get a chance to finish.

Several things happened in a short period of time, once you had turned to face him. Hector's face was in a smug smirk, his eyes trained on your tape measure. He grabbed it together in one hand, just below your collarbone, and used it to tug you towards him.

Your lips collided together in a rough and desperate kiss. Before you could process that this was really happening, your mouth acted for you, melding into his. A strong hand gripped your lower back, holding you against his lean form. It wasn't needed, there was nothing that could pull you away from him right now. Your hands made their way up to the sides of his face. One holding his cheek and the other snaking into his hair.

Hector groaned softly, emboldening your tongue to slowly and sensually swipe across his bottom lip. A growl vibrated through his lips and your tongue pulled back, only for his teeth to rake across your upper lip. To your embarrassment, a whimper escaped, causing his bite to lessen and then let go altogether.

Your eyes locked with one another, puffing breathes the only thing between you. Hector looked guarded now, unsure of how to proceed. You helped him decide, pressing your lips back onto his, your tongue searching for his. He gladly let you explore.

The door to his room swung open loudly. A familiar, feminine voice called out, "Okay, I'm done babysitting your children Hec-" Adira stopped mid-word, seeing you two intertwined together. Even the bear cats stopped and stared for a moment, unsure who this new person was.

There was an audible noise when you pulled away from Hector, who acted like Adira walking in wasn't a reason to stop. You looked away, fidgeting with your tape measure, hoping the heat in your face wasn't visible to either of them.

"Perfect timing as always," Hector muttered. “Thanks.”

"Ah, well here are your children back Hector." The teasing lilt in Adira's voice was palpable. "Let me know if you need me to take them on a walk again so can-what was it again? Rest up?"

"Thank you Adira. That'll be all,” he growled.

"Alright! Don't get too worked up now, that's their job," Adira nodded her head in your direction. Before Hector could throw another threat, she let out a quick laugh and closed the door.

"Finally," he grumbled and grasped your face, pulling you into a tender kiss. It only lasted a few moments, before he rested his forehead on yours, kissing the bridge of your nose. “Been wantin’ to do that for awhile now.”

“Really?”

“Course, why’d you think I went to your family to fix my clothes?” Hector asked sincerely, a blush spreading on his cheeks. “Been patchin’ my own clothes since I went to the Great Tree.” Your heart was fluttering in your chest at his confession. He fingered the tape measure around your neck, reminding you why you came here in the first place.

You let out a disappointed groan, "I probably should be going. My father needs these measurements as soon as possible."

"Yer probably right," Hector mumbled, brushing the side of your face. "I'll just have ta have you measure me for more clothes or sumthin'." You gave him a genuine smile and nodded. He cocked a brow at you, "Ya can even measure both my wrists. Together. An above my head." Heat stirred deep inside you at the picture that conjured in your mind. "If ya ever feel like it." Hector added on, kissing your cheek with a smirk.

As he pulled away you caught his lips again, this kiss much less chaste than the last. His hands cupped your face and you felt your tape measure slip from your shoulders. Ignoring it, you kissed for several more minutes, swallowing each other's soft moans and gasps. His hands ran down to your shoulder, then your side, continuing down to your hips where he grasped you roughly.

Hector broke the kiss, resting his cheek on yours, his voice strained, "Ya better go. Don't wanna worry your family."

The thought crossed your mind that your family wasn't actually his main concern. Nonetheless, you knew he was right. If you were gone too long, your father would send your sister to find you. And you really didn't want that.

"You're right," you sighed, wishing you could stay longer. You knelt down to grab your tape measure when something caught your eye. A piece of paper, crumpled into a ball, laying by the fireplace. A part of it was burnt. You grabbed it to toss it into the flames when you caught a glimpse of the familiar handwriting. Standing with the paper in hand, you opened it up and read what was on it. Your amused gaze lifted and met Hector's, his eyes wide.

"This is the paper my sister recorded your measurements on," you stated, playfully tilting your head. "How did it end up there?"

As you watched Hector avert his eyes and rub the back of his neck, something nudged your legs. You looked down to see his bear cats sniffing at you.

"Well…ya know," he stalled, looking all around the room. You soon realized he was trying not to babble.

You crumpled the paper back into a ball and tossed it into the fire. “There’s easier ways to get me alone you know. I’d really prefer the ones that don’t involve almost giving my father a heart attack.”

Hector looked from the fireplace to you and smiled. He pulled you into his arms quietly chuckling, “And where’s the fun in that?” You both came together for one last gentle kiss before leaving, but you’d be back again. And soon.

[aboutzatanna]

Still annoyed by how the latter half of JLD portrayed Zee as an incompetent leader who made some  outright dumbass decisions while in charge.   

As a palate cleanser, here are some tidbits from Justice League of America Vol 1  Annual #1 written by Paul Levitz and Len Wein and pencilled by Rick Hoberg and her decisions weren’t disastrous.

This was from the period where Zee was elected chairwoman of the League: 

Oh hey look, it’s Commissioner Gordon on the Watchtower, you don’t see that every day. What could he be there for?   

(This is from the period where Batman left the League to form the Outsiders but given that he formed the Outsiders to do *more* crime fighting, the fact that Gordon had to go to the League because he couldn’t get in touch with Batman is doubly ironic.)  

Also, pretty cool how Gordon is known and respected even by the JLA.   

So Zee splits the team into groups and they go investigate the missing artists. Not everyone is too keen on her calling the shots though:  

Why Ollie? Why? Sadly, Ollie doesn’t do much in this annual besides whining and being a jerk.  

But turns out she was right and it turns out Destiny is pulling out nightmares from artists brain and materializing them in to the real world.   

Diana on the other hand, is more supportive Zee’s decisions:  

Oh hey look! It’s John Stewart!   

John teaming up with the League during the Satellite era was rare but always welcome. As a DCAU fan, he will always by *my* Green Lantern.      

After confirming Destiny’s involvement, Zatanna, Red Tornado and Elongated Man chase him into the Dreaming (a much less exciting place before Neil Gaiman joined DC):    

One of the main sub plots of the annual is Zee’s sometimes mentor/detective Ralph having a crisis of confidence:    

Zatanna summons the rest of the League and they head to confront Destiny at his HQ:  

Also shout out to penciller Rick Hoberg here; the League is flying or running towards their target but he gives each member a distinct pose that reflects their personality. Zatanna and the Hawks are soaring through the air while John and Red Tornado are darting through the air laser focused on their target while Firestorm’s pose falls somewhere in the middle.  (Also it’s funny how the Atom is on Firestorm’s shoulder seemingly rooting for him to go faster.)  Even the running poses are different from each other; Flash’s pose looks like a homage to his debut comic cover, Diana is more casual while Aquaman looks more determined whilst Ollie looks like he is oogling Dinah who seems to be doing her best to ignore him.   

The League takes the fight to Dr Destiny’s HQ but it doesn’t go as planned:  

He defeats the League in a way that makes me think the League all probably collectively agreed to never speak of again:  

 “So how did Destiny take down all of you again?”

“Yep, giant monster.” 

“Giant monster.”

“He had big fangs.”

“Don’t forget the horns.”

“And the spikes.”

“Practically untouchable.” 

“It was too powerful for us to even comprehend!”

(I’m also going to head canon this as Destiny having more power in the Dreaming.)

Unbeknownst to him however, Ralph has managed to free the original Jack Kirby Sandman, Garret Sanford.  Side note: He is the guy who passed the mantle to Hector Hall who was the Sandman who was being manipulated by Brute and Glob before being “freed” by Neil Gaiman’s Sandman.    

Destiny’s characterization here; his hatred for the League, unable to dream which in turn turned him into a withering husk because of it and usurping the power of Sandman has echoes of his story arc in Gaiman’s Sandman. The latter was more impactful but I wonder if he drew inspiration from this annual?   

Sandman calls in the cavalry in the form of Superman

and takes on Dr Destiny again and in probably one of the funniest moment of this annual:   

So how did they escape?  

Ralph: The MVP.   

Later, the League offers membership to Sandman who turns it down.  Also, turns out Superman’s dreams are special:   

So there you have it; Zee was a competent chairman, Ralph got his confidence back by being the MVP, John Stewart finally got some lime light  and Superman dreams about ~peace~.    

Honestly, wouldn’t mind a variation of this story but with the League meeting Morpheus.