#hector's querida

[morvantmortuary]

no mistakes, know the stakes --

(Hector Morvant-Casares x non-binary plus size Reader, 18+)

summary: You're just trying to enjoy a chill afternoon when your smitten kind-of-stalker, Hector, once again shows up to annoy you. Things get intense from there.

warnings: finger-fucking (enby receiving), semi-public sex, brief fluids ingestion, intimate photos taken without prior consent, Hex is being a total stalker and a bit of a creep, but reader just makes fun of him. implied ghost hand involved in the sex (it makes sense in context).

reader notes: reader is plus size, queer, and non-binary. pet names Hex uses are femme-ish but I tried to stay fairly neutral. skin and hair mentions are also left as neutral as possible, suggestions to tweak that appreciated (as are any corrections to Hex's Spanish, I'm still working on that). no use of y/n, as always.

general: writing about HVAC-Hector on my fanfic blog has had me going through my Hector's stuff, especially wanting to give the older a revamp to match up more with how I hear him now than when I was still trying to figure him out. this was originally posted in 2021 as a request by my buddy Sam @pondering-and-wondering (hi! <3), and since it was Hex's first solo run, I wanted to give it an update, an edit, and some love.

thanks for humoring me <3

It was October, sure, but this was Louisiana — it was still warm enough for you to walk around outside in your favorite sleeveless top and some cute shorts today, as you wandered through the weekend open air market in the historic part of town. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, really… between the decent-for-once weather and just being antsy to get out of your house, it seemed like as good an excuse as any to feel the sun on your skin. You were taking your time at every stall, meandering between the rows to see everything from local honey to hand-crocheted blankets. Just the kind of cute, homey things you’d expect to see in a place as small as this one.

You’d probably been there about an hour or so, chatting with some of the friendlier old ladies who’d parked lawn chairs outside the small salon on the corner to watch the goings on, then sampling from the couple food trucks that had driven out here from one of the closer cities as it got closer to noon, before you realized that even as you moved alone through this crowd of people, you weren’t exactly… alone.

The first time you heard the camera shutter, you’d written it off as something else - someone taking a photo of one of the vendors for the little local paper, or maybe someone with their phone’s sound still on (for some godforsaken reason).

It was when it happened the second time, when you’d moved stalls entirely, that you realized the sound was moving with you. It was close enough that if they weren’t taking photos of you, they were taking photos of something very near you. But following you for this long, and just happening to take photos of things that were always just in your periphery?

Unlikely.

Experimentally, you moved away from the stalls entirely, walking towards the mostly empty plastic tables and metal chairs the organizers had set out at the end of the main thoroughfare for visitors to linger, maybe chow down on something from the aforementioned food trucks. There was no one there, currently, but it was still plenty public - which would be helpful, if it was who you thought it was.

You loitered there, taking your phone out of your bag and pretending to scroll through it idly while you tested your theory. It took just long enough that you wondered if maybe you had been being paranoid - not that you could really blame yourself - and maybe it really was just some intern or volunteer taking photos for some neighborhood newsletter or some such.

But then you heard the click a third time, and you rolled your eyes. “Hi, Hector.”

You turned in the direction of a fourth shutter sound, looking around just in time to catch him still watching you through the lens of his camera. He wasn’t far away - if anything, just far enough that he looked like he was taking photos of a willing subject. Which was what he was counting on people thinking, of course.

When he at last let the camera down, revealing those stunningly dark eyes of his, the fluttering feeling in your chest reminded you that you weren’t exactly an unwilling subject, either.

“Qué tal, querida” Hector smiled, something that always reminded you somehow of a fox - subtle, and clever, like he was laughing at a joke he hadn’t let you in on yet. He walked over slowly, flipping through the photos he’d just taken with an almost bored expression. “You look pretty today.” He met your eyes when he was standing only a couple feet away from you, just barely enough distance to be respectful. He himself was just in his typical jeans and a faded dark t-shirt, his customary black hoodie tied at his waist in this warm Fall weather. “But don’t you always.” It wasn’t a question. Not from him.

You felt a smile threaten at the corner of your mouth, but you did your best to bite it back. Hector was handsome - he knew that, with those gorgeous eyes of his and those cheekbones. But he was so fucking cocky with you, it drove you a little bit insane. From the moment you’d first stumbled across him downtown one afternoon, staring into the empty windows of some abandoned storefront, he’d turned his brooding gaze to you and acted like the two of you hooking up was inevitable. Not like he was rude  or boorish about it… no, he was always unfailingly sweet to you, in his own way. It was just that he acted like he knew something you didn’t, or had some certainty in his back pocket. Which wasn’t to say you hadn’t thought about hooking up, either - christ, look at him - but there was a deeper part of you that felt the need to challenge that assumption first. You needed to prove to him that you weren’t something to be taken for granted, and couldn’t be won over just by him always being around. 

And god, was he always around - you swore you couldn’t go anywhere lately without him turning up to chat with you at least once, just like this.

“You really have nothing better to do than follow me everywhere, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, teasing him while still keeping your face casual.

Hector shrugged, aloof as always. “There’s only so much here worth photographing,” he said. “Not my fault you’re the best view.” He gave you what was very definitely a once over before meeting your eyes, as if returning your challenge.

“How kind of you to grace the rest of us with your presence.” You tilted your head to the side, taking him in yourself. “Must be hard to be a photographer when you get most of your shots by sneaking up on people.”

Hector’s smile returned, like he definitely knew something you didn’t. “If I asked you to model for me, you’d just say no.” He tilted his head in return, mocking your gesture with a faux pout. “And I don’t think I could handle you turning me down, beautiful.”

You felt your face heat just slightly, but did your best to keep your expression in check. Shit, that was smooth. “It’s a poor artist that can’t take rejection, you know.”

Hector took another step closer to you, and you had to resist the urge to step back, determined not to let on exactly how your knees felt like jelly right now. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I get rejected all the time,” he said, something… darker to his smile now. “It’s just a fact of life when you do what I do. But,” his tone grew softer as you two were basically face to face. “It just hurts so much more when it comes from your muse, y’know?”

You studied him for a long moment, your brain scrambling in the wake of that, holy shit. His smile widened, like he knew you couldn’t parry that with just a quip, and you decided to take a different tactic entirely. 

You shifted your bag strap on your shoulder, tilting your chin up at him defiantly. “You don’t know for sure what I’d say if you asked.”

Hector blinked, and you inwardly crowed at the flicker in his confident facade. “No?”

“You can’t.” You shrugged like this was obvious. “Because you’ve never bothered, have you? You just… assume.” You finally let yourself smirk. “And I thought you were all about exploring beyond the surface, with your work.” You wet your lower lip, definitely playing with him a little bit now. “Oh well.” 

You moved to brush past him, catching just a trace of the heady scent he wore - something that always reminded you of something cold, almost spectral.

The sensation was so distracting that, for a moment, you missed when he carefully took you by the wrist — only noticing it when he gently tugged you back to him, pulling you so you were once again face to face and even closer than before.

He didn’t say anything right away, and you didn’t try to move, transfixed by the definite tension you could feel pass between the pair of you. You had to fight the urge to brush some of the longer strands of his dark hair away from his eyes as he looked down at your wrist caged delicately in his fingers, studying it like it was something rare and beautiful. At last, his eyes met yours again, looking up at you through lashes that were so gorgeous it honestly wasn’t fair. 

“…Would you say yes?” Even in the midst of the bright day around you, something about the way his tone hushed felt like you’d suddenly stepped into shadow. His eyes searched your face, and your originally flippant answer suddenly died on your tongue in the wake of his odd intensity.

“…Ask me for real - like you’re not taking anything for granted,” you said, inwardly quite proud of yourself for managing not to stutter as you met his eyes. “And I’ll genuinely think about it.” 

You couldn’t quite read his expression as you carefully pulled your wrist from his grip, but didn’t stop your hand from brushing his as you walked off. “I’ll see you around, Hector.”

You didn’t hear him protest as you walked away, and for a while, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering if you’d left him speechless for once. That would be a first - especially because it felt like he made you feel tongue-tied so often. You relished the idea of those endlessly dark eyes going slightly wide, maybe that permanent smirk of his displaced into something a little less self-assured. In fact, it gave you such a strong feeling of satisfaction that you let yourself turn, looking over your shoulder to see if he was still staring at you — and stumbling slightly when you realized he wasn’t there. 

You looked back down the row of stalls as best you could, wondering where he could’ve gotten to so quickly… before rolling your eyes again, and just continuing on your way.

“Whatever,” you muttered to yourself, You adjusted your bag strap on your shoulder as you took a back street towards the block where you’d parked your car. Time would tell if he would try again - you imagined he would, given how persistent he’d been since he met you. He didn’t seem like the type to give up easily. Although now that you’d given him a taste of his own ‘coy and mysterious’ act, you wondered if he’d think about changing his tactics —

You didn’t notice him until he was practically right on top of you, emerging from an alley on your right to pull you into its shade with him. You let out a small noise of surprise as he pushed you back against a wall, but gently enough that you didn’t scrape yourself on the bricks or bump your head.

Before you even had time to process that, his mouth was barely a centimeter from yours.

You didn’t protest - you had wondered if this would happen, to be honest. You’d just imagined it under different circumstances. You met his gaze as he watched you closely, seeing if you would pull away or object. Instead, you found yourself glancing quickly from his nebulous eyes to his mouth and back again, unable to help a smug smile of your own. “So that worked, huh?”

Hector took your face in his hands, his thumbs delicately tracing your cheeks… before he kissed you with such ferocity, you would have gasped if you had any breath left. Between the rasp of his beard on your skin and his tongue in your mouth, you quickly found yourself feeling overwhelmed by him, like he’d been waiting to do this for ages and was taking it all out on you now. Not that you disliked it, though..

And you definitely didn’t dislike it when he shoved his knee between your thighs, pushing you back into the wall and suddenly moving his hands to your hips with a surprising amount of force.

You shivered, laughing  as you nipped playfully at his lip - only to have it turn into a soft moan as he exerted just the barest amount of pressure between your legs to fully pin you against the wall. His mouth fell to the column of your neck, pressing soft kisses down the side as one hand moved to carefully, slowly undo your shorts.

“Yes or no, amor?” He tilted his head to look at you, that know-something smirk back in place. His voice was dark in a way you hadn’t heard before, that made your toes curl inside your shoes.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands moving to grasp his biceps under the thin t-shirt he was wearing. 

He laughed under his breath. Carefully, lasciviously, he passed his tongue over two of his fingers while keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

You had to bite down hard on your lip as his slid them past the waistband of your shorts and your underwear, his fingertips circling your clit. They did this long enough for your breath to start catching in your chest before dipping lower experimentally, teasing at your entrance before sliding inside you enough to make you clench around him.

“Me fascinas, tesoro.” He grinned, his face only a fraction away from yours as he began to fuck you slowly. “You’re so pretty, you know that? You’ve been so resistant with me up until now.” A twist of his fingers made you whine softly, your head falling back against the wall. “But you’re sweet when you let yourself open up like this.” 

His grin turned somewhat darker as his thumb found your clit, and you whined. He pressed his cheek against yours to whisper in your ear. “I had no idea my muse was such a little whore, though. But I love it. It’s so… unexpected.” He leaned down, licking a hot stripe up the side of your neck. “I wonder what else you’ll surprise me with when you’re mine.”

This little declaration went straight to the white hot center of you, and you felt yourself clenching hard around his fingers, your nails digging into his skin just the same.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he whispered, pressing his nose to your cheek. “Are you gonna let me see how perfect you look when you do, up close?”

That last addition registered somewhere in the part of your brain that wasn’t in the midst of hazy bliss - what did he mean ‘up close’? When had he seen you otherwise? But another stroke of the rough pad of his thumb obliterated that thought entirely, and you nodded, trying your best to muffle the moan that threatened to leave you.

“C’mon, beautiful ,” Hector whispered, and you felt a hand - a surprisingly cold one, through the fabric of your shorts - grip your other hip hard, where previously his hand that had been there had been warm. “Show me that gorgeous face of yours, yeah?”

His fingers twisted against a spot that made everything inside you feel like it was aflame, and your mouth fell open as your head fell further back, not caring anymore if your strangled cry attracted any unwanted attention.

In the midst of coming undone, through your fluttering eyelashes as you shook against Hector’s thigh, you made out something that wasn’t his face. It took you a minute to realize he was taking photos of you through your orgasm on his phone, watching you with an intensity that would’ve set your cheeks on fire if the phone hadn’t already. You felt yourself tightening around his fingers even more than before, realizing that as embarrassed as you were - you liked this.

“Preciosa,” Hector said under his breath, looking between the shots on his phone and back to you with an appreciative, almost hungry gaze. “I knew you’d be exquisite.” He slid his phone back in his pocket, leaning forward to kiss you deeply as he pulled his fingers from inside you. “And I knew I’d get you eventually,” he added with a smug whisper, pulling back so you could see as he licked your slick from his fingers.

Part of you was slightly confused in your post-high haze - if he’d been fucking you one hand, and the other had been holding his phone… you frowned for just a moment, going to look down at your hip where a cold hand had held you in place, but Hector took your chin in his hand and kissed you hard again, this time so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

When at last he pulled away (after refastening your shorts, to his credit), he stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching you keenly as you tried to straighten yourself out. “Next time we’ll do things properly, I promise: dinner, dancing, whatever my muse wants,” he said quietly. When you met his eyes again, feeling slightly shy now despite this encounter, he winked at you. “I just had to see what you’d actually say, first.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, your brain again trying to find something to fire back with, but Hector just laughed. 

“See you later, corazón.” And without another word, he turned, heading back down the alley where he’d come from - probably to grab his camera, which you’d noticed was mysteriously missing. As he walked, you saw him pull his phone out of his pocket again, and you could swear you saw him swiping through his photos with what looked like a smirk.

You lingered against the wall for a bit, waiting for your knees to re-solidify and your cheeks to stop burning before you were confident enough to walk the rest of the way to the car. You didn’t see anybody as you went, but something about that little encounter had left you feeling… different. In fact, instead of hoping nobody could see it on you, with every step you found yourself hoping that somebody would - that you’d run into someone, randomly, and they’d be struck immediately by your brazenness. You felt powerful, truly gorgeous even. You couldn’t stop smirking to yourself as you half-walked, half strutted the rest of the way there.

When you found your car in its lonely spot, you also found something waiting for you beneath your windshield wiper: a polaroid, of all things, of some beautiful white roses. You gazed at them, both delighted and transfixed, before turning it over, looking for anything you’d recognize to tell you who it was from.

On the back in looping, messy handwriting was a note:

Dinner Friday, at 7? I know a place. Text me.

- H

At the bottom was written his number, and you blinked, looking around. There’s no way he could’ve gotten over here fast enough to leave this. Not without you seeing him. If anything, you realized, he would’ve had to leave this earlier. Maybe even before he came and found you to begin with.

You felt your cheeks blaze with heat again, and even before you got all the way into your car, you were pulling out your phone.

[Fine. But you’re buying after that.]>

You smiled to yourself as you started your car and drove off. Okay. So maybe saying yes hadn’t been the worst thing in the world.

man, remember when I used to be able to write fics of a reasonable length?

anyway! if you've read this far, I hope you get to have a fun weekend outing yourself ;)

[hectoryunda]

IBARRA TIERRA QUERIDA. compositor Hector Yunda

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Throwback Fic Week: honey, you're familiar (like my mirror years ago)

Third up: honey, you're familiar (like my mirror years ago).

Could not do this look back without one of my Coco fics ending up on here. I had so many feelings about the skeleton family after I watched this movie in theaters. I even gave up seeing Last of the Jedi when given the option of seeing Coco for a second time. I picked my favorite fic in the series, which is actually the quietest one of them all, just a conversation between Hector and Imelda after all is said and done at the end of the movie. I was trying to explore the space between them and the years between them and just all of the implications of what believing a lie for 90 years would do to a person. I like to think I pulled it off.

Excerpt:

Imelda curls in on herself, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her metacarpals dig into her skeletal knees as anger fills her. She wants to scrape away all the hatred, all the resentment that still lingers in her. She doesn’t want to feel wrong, like all the suffering was her fault, because she knows, logically, that it wasn’t.

So, instead, she thinks of the actual target of her rage. She wants to strangle Ernesto De la Cruz for what was stolen from them. He murdered Héctor, murdered their familia. He tore away everything that made them happy, left them nothing but lies and bitter words for ten malditas decades.

“Mela, querida,” Héctor says from the door of the room, and she looks up to find her husband, blinking sleep from his eyes. He looks so concerned, so young. Cincuenta años too young.

He's just a year younger than she is, but oh, how different they seem in age. He died at age 21, just barely an adult and a father. She lived for decades in the living world- he lived the same in the Land of the Dead, body stuck permanently in youth. He never aged, never gained wrinkles and callouses and sunspots. How his body must have been a reminder of all that he'd lost.

“Héctor,” she says, her voice a rasp, and gestures numbly at the bed beside her. He takes her motion for what it is- an invitation- and enters her room, feet padding softly. She notices his limp, just as she always has, both as shoemaker and wife. The pair of boots she made him contain a lifted insole in the left shoe that helps with his limp, cushioning his foot in a way that supports his body. He’s not wearing them now, as he obviously just came from his bed.

(His bed, not theirs- it hasn’t been theirs in a century. And though her emotions are jodida, she’s pretty sure she wants it to be theirs again.)

[quennyquinn]

Mimada T/N conoce a una girlboss…que en realidad es hector Doyle

T/N caminando por la ciudad mientras habla con kozue por teléfono.

T/N: es que te juro ko-chan, voy a comprar tacones y me entero de por todo el caos por los condenados a muerte la nueva temporada de zapatos Jimmy Choo se va retrasar, ósea te juro que espero que baki les patee el trasero a todos……

Mientras T/N se quejaba de que sus problemas de niña rica, y kozue se reía de lo infantil que podía ser tu amiga, cuando abruptamente T/N se despidió de ella

T/N: -camina rápidamente para alcanzar una mujer policía musculosa- hey señorita policía, espéreme

Hector Doyle: -vestido de mujer policía pensando diablos, esa mocosa vio a través de mi disfraz no ahí muchas personas cerca…podría noquearla y dejarla en un callejón-

T/N: -mirándola con estrellas en los ojos- o por dios eres totalmente una girlboss

Hector Doyle: -confundido- …gracias?

T/N: estoy segura que todos te lo dicen, pero realmente eres preciosa, amo tu labial, esta de super de moda esta temporada donde lo compraste esta agotado en todas mis tiendas de maquillaje favorita

Hector Doyle:-pensando maldición, esta chica no me descubrió……pero es estúpida- bueno en la tienda de allí -apuntando a una tienda donde robo el maquillaje-

T/N: gracias querida, también compraste tu mascara de pestañas allí también, se ve tan liviana y natural

Hector Doyle: oh no gracias, pero son naturales -empezando a ponerse incomodo de tantos halagos-

T/N: adiós no la molesto más, que tenga un buen día y que sea fabulosa

Ese día T/N encontró una nueva tienda de maquillaje con descuento, 3 días después se enteró que estuvo hablando de labiales con uno de los famosos condenados a muerte

[itwassofun]

Hago mil horas para llegar al cole pero está muy bonito y chance en unos días me mudo con Sai y su roomie graciosa. Tan solo soy una muchacha de pueblo 🤲🏽

Tuve una clase de 6 horas y en la cafetería solo vendían pan con carne unu, casi me palideo.

En serio, espero hacer amigos nuevos. Hector se irá unos meses a trabajar a Oaxaca y si de por sí casi no nos vemos, ahora menos, lo quiero mucho tho, es mi mejor amigo, también Justin, siempre hablamos y aunque no les vea seguido siempre me hacen sentir muy querida y especial.

[juliarojano]

🔴 ASI FUE El Duelo en el Escenario: Hector Lavoe vs. Amparo Grisales en Yo Me Llamo 2023"

En el emocionante mundo de la televisión y el entretenimiento, pocas cosas capturan la atención de la audiencia como un enfrentamiento inesperado entre dos figuras destacadas. 

Esto es precisamente lo que sucedió en la última temporada de "Yo Me Llamo 2023" en Colombia, cuando el icónico imitador de Hector Lavoe se encontró en medio de una confrontación con la infame jueza Amparo Grisales.

La tensión en el escenario creció cuando el imitador de Hector Lavoe, conocido por su sorprendente semejanza con el legendario cantante, interpretó una de las canciones más queridas del repertorio de Lavoe. La actuación fue impecable, pero lo que ocurrió a continuación dejó a todos con la boca abierta.

En medio de los aplausos del público y elogios de los otros jueces, Amparo Grisales expresó su desacuerdo de manera contundente. Su gesto fue interpretado como un desaire al talento del imitador, lo que llevó a un tenso intercambio de palabras en vivo. 

La audiencia se mantuvo atenta mientras Hector Lavoe, el imitador, defendía su dedicación y respeto por el ícono de la salsa.El episodio dejó a los espectadores con una serie de preguntas: ¿Fue un gesto grosero de parte de Amparo Grisales? ¿Hubo un malentendido en el escenario? La controversia en torno a esta confrontación se extendió en las redes sociales y los foros de discusión.A medida que la noticia se propagaba, los seguidores del programa esperaban ansiosos el siguiente episodio para obtener más detalles sobre esta inusual pelea. 

Las tensiones entre el imitador de Hector Lavoe y Amparo Grisales se habían vuelto el centro de atención en "Yo Me Llamo 2023".La televisión de realidad y los programas de talento a menudo están llenos de momentos inesperados que mantienen a la audiencia comprometida. La confrontación entre Hector Lavoe y Amparo Grisales en "Yo Me Llamo 2023" no fue una excepción. Fue un recordatorio de que en el mundo del entretenimiento, las emociones pueden correr altas y las sorpresas están a la vuelta de la esquina.

A medida que la temporada avanzaba, los fanáticos de "Yo Me Llamo" esperaban con anticipación los próximos episodios para ver si la tensión entre Hector Lavoe y Amparo Grisales se disipaba o escalaba aún más. En un mundo donde la realidad y el drama se entrelazan, esta confrontación inesperada dejó a todos ansiosos por descubrir qué sucedería a continuación en el escenario de "Yo Me Llamo 2023".

[sopestvr]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀† ABOUT THE WRITER !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♱

XANJYL⠀or⠀BTS RAPLINE’s #1 STAN (CANON)⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀✶ nineteen. he!xe. boricua. your stereotypical mean lesbian !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⟡

⠀⠀⠀“ my name? mf there’s too many, next question. ”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ wattpad † tiktok † instagram

♱⠀PRIVADO⠀ᵎᵎ

VENOM⠀⟡⠀benji. evren. venix. yociel. czar. certified milf pursuer. graphic designer. born n raised new yorker. aspiring sugar momma. miles morales’ cousin. hobie brown’s unprovoked sidekick. professional makima & himeno hater. irl gwenpool. venom realest best friend. ava ayala in the flesh. diagnosed bpd pill popper. keeho’s secret bsf. ricky’s boss baby. yunjin’s needy.

BLOG⠀⟡⠀is for hispanic/latines that never see themselves in either oc's or readers, mainly because they’re always white and don't have culture. it is also for my tall chica’s who never get representation in media, aside from the tall girl movie where they weaponized her height until the last 30 mins of that god forsaken film. so bienvenidos mis amores.

♱⠀MI VIDAS⠀ᵎᵎ

TWIZZY’S⠀⟡⠀hobie brown. nagi seishiro. katsuki bakugo. keiji akaashi. yuuji itadori. maki zenin. ava ayala. america chavez. aña corazón. miles morales. shoyo hinata. takemichi hanegaki. hinata tachibana. denji hayakawa. chigiri hyoma.

MIS QUERIDAS⠀⟡⠀adri. mia. mula. lin. via. aster. riah. zeph. amy. cori. zayi. lulu. anahi. bri. naomi. mars. raj. dawn. rissy. sol.

REPLAY⠀⟡⠀chief keef. yeat. kanii. lijay. koto. odetari. cade clair. ken carson. playboi carti. a boogie. d4vd. ice spice. kendrick lamar. lil uzi vert. 2pac. biggie. labrinth. joji. monaleo. flomilli. glorilla. megan thee stallion. kehlani. young ma. ski mask the slump god. kali uchis. melanie martinez. mitski. rae sremmurd. bad bunny. daddy yankee. pierce the veil. zion & lennox. hector & tito. selena. baby metal. bts. e’last. piwon. ateez. txt. le sserafim. new jeans. xdinary heroes. onlyoneof. wonho. jiae. zb1. insane clown posse.

♱⠀PREFERIDO⠀ᵎᵎ

ANIMANGAS⠀⟡⠀attack on titan. god of high school. jujutsu kaisen. classroom of the elite. soul eater. chainsaw man. blue lock. gangsta. tokyo revengers. haikyuu. demon slayer. death note. hunter x hunter. sailor moon. angels of death.

COMFORT LOSERS⠀⟡⠀venom. miles morales. takemichi hanegaki. michael afton. yuuji itadori. denji hayakawa. suzune horikita. mikasa ackerman. mori jin. black star. meguru bachira. nicolas brown. aran ojiro. suma uzui. misa amane. killua zoldyck. usagi tsukino. isaac foster. katsuki bakugo.

♱⠀ESCRIBE⠀ᵎᵎ

BASICS⠀⟡⠀i always write tall (6'2), indigenous taíno puerto rican oc's for my stories. only time i won't is when a request specifically asks for an unlabeled reader, or a specific type of reader that doesn't correlate with my typical one.

[hector-reyes]

Hector: A Playlist

Never Can Say Goodbye - Jackson 5 // Strong Island - JVC Force // All Along the Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix // I wanna Be Your Lover - Prince // Querida - Juan Gabriel // Rapture - Blondie // Dr. Beat - Miami Sound Machine // Tu y Yo - Chayanne // Jazzy Sensation (Bronx Version) - Afrika Bambaataa & The Jazzy 5 // Get Up I Feel Like Being A Sex Machine - James Brown // Boogie Wonderland - Earth, Wind & Fire, & The Emotions // I Wonder If I Take You Home - Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam // A Song for You - Donny Hathaway // Scars of Love - TKA // Boogie Nights - Heatwave // When Somebody Loves You Back - Teddy Pendergrass // In The Wee Small Hours of the Morning - Frank Sinatra // (At Your Best) You Are Love - The Isley Brothers // For What It’s Worth - Buffalo Springfield // Wild Is The Wind - Nina Simone // El Venao - Los Cantantes De Ramon Orlando // One Way Love - TKA // Square Biz - Teena Marie // I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Whitney Houston // Fire & Desire - Rick James & Teena Marie

“Then he made one last effort to search in his heart for the place where his affection had rotted away, and he could not find it.” ― Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Listen Here

[harryissuchalittleshit]

A Day in the Park

A cute little Hugo/Lyla one shot with their bebes for @trainingprompttuesday. I just love their family dynamic and how easy it is to write Hugo and Lyla as parents, they are definitely very chill and laidback, very much like how I see Hinny with their kids. @petalstosarah, thank you for the prompt! Happy Tuesday!

Hugo squinted down at his book, the bright sunlight making the words hard to see. He regretted not bringing along his sunglasses, especially as Lyla turned the page in her book. Roslyn, Ro, was asleep in her lap, a little too old at seven to do so, but her Little League Quidditch game had gone on longer than expected.

It had been cloudy during the game, he hadn’t expected the sun to come out.

He looked up from his novel and glanced around the park, Evan and Hector, their fourteen and eleven year olds, their Hogwarts kids, were passing a football back and forth to each other. And little Odysseus, Odie, was-

“Lyla,” said Hugo, squinting at what he was sure was Odie’s Chuddley Cannon t-shirt his dad had given Odie for Christmas, “is that our child licking the slide?”

“No, absolutely not,” said Lyla, not looking up from her book, as she ran her fingers through Ro’s dark curly red hair. All of the braids had fallen out, and her bandana had been thrown off when they lost the game. Hugo didn’t know why he was surprised about her competiveness, especially with his and Lyla’s history, or either of their parents, but he was.

Ro was a great Keeper in the making, but she had the worst attitude about losing. Truly the worst sore loser in the family, and that included Hugo’s cousins, James and Lily.

“Bebe,” said Hugo, sitting up and shielding his eyes with his hand, “that’s our kid, you put that shirt on Odie this morning.”

Odie was stubborn about wearing clothes, Hugo blamed it on the fact he was born on an unseasonably warm October morning. As the fact that it had been easier to wrap him in a blanket than dress him when he was littler.

His parents had done the same thing with him too.

“Stop licking the slide, Odie you’re embarrassing us!” yelled Lyla, finally looking up from her book. Ro opened her eyes and squinted up at Lyla, before shuffling over to curl up against Hugo and put her head on his lap.

Hugo smiled down at his only daughter as Odie started toddling back towards them, getting picked up by Evan as he and Hector also came back to them.

“Mama,” said Odie, reaching his little arms out to her as Evan put him down on the large blanket Hugo always kept in their diaper bag. It had seen better days, as all of their baby things had, almost everything they owned was just a few months older than Evan.

“Ro, wake up querida,” Hugo whispered into her ear, rubbing her back and helping her sit up. He pulled her into his lap, and pushed her hair out of her face as both Evan and Hector sat down on the blanket. Lyla began passing out the sandwiches Hugo had made that morning, along with juice boxes and fruit he packed away, the cookies would be saved for later.

“Odie you can’t be licking the play equipment,” lectured Lyla, and Hugo smiled, they always spoke to their children as they would speak to anyone. No baby-talk, no excessive hand holding, their children deserved to be treated like everyone else in the world. “If you’re hungry, you just need to ask.”

Hector rolled his eyes and Evan giggled into his apple slices, Ro nodded sleepily against Hugo’s chest. Lecturing one child was lecturing them all, especially in this kind of setting.

“At least he wasn’t eating sand like Hector used to,” Hugo told Lyla, smiling as he remembered that day at the beach. It had ended in three temper tantrums, two soaked toddlers, and Hugo almost in tears while Lyla had an anxiety attack. It hadn’t been their best family outing, but it was remembered fondly now…ten years later.

“I didn’t eat sand, papa!” said Hector, and Hugo shook his head. Hector was the most like Lyla’s father. He took his appearance and reputation incredibly serious, which was a bit ridiculous for an eleven year old, but Hugo wouldn’t change him for the world.

“You used to,” said Lyla offhandedly, picking up a juice box and taking a sip. “All of you are incredibly embarrassing.”

Evan started laughing, while Hector rolled his eyes not believing them, and Ro nodded sleepily. Odie just munched happily on his apple slices, not even listening, and Hugo felt like this summed up each of his kids personalities.

Evan, their oldest, their accepting and playful Hufflepuff. Hector, their judgemental and stubborn future Slytherin. Ro, their tired only daughter and future Ravenclaw. And finally Odie, their baby boy, and blissfully unaware future Gryffindor.

Of all the people he knew, of all the children in his life, of everyone he knew and loved and cared about. His and Lyla’s children were the ones he would never change. He would never take away Evan’s anxiety, Hector’s vainness, Ro’s competiveness, or even Odie’s blissful ignorance.

He loved them, even if they were the most embarrassing people he knew, and he grew up with James Sirius Potter as his cousin.

“Alright, eat up,” said Lyla, picking up her book again and running her finger’s through Odie’s bright red hair. “Papa made cookies, and they won’t let us into the library if we have food with us.”

Hugo smiled at her, and Lyla pushed her sunglasses down just long enough to wink at him before pushing them up and returning to her book. Later they would go to the library, where Evan, Hector, and Ro would all wander off, and Odie would be asleep in her arms the whole time.

Just as they liked it.

A/N: All of Hugo and Lyla's kids are named after Greek Heroes! Similar to how I named all of Rose and Scorpius's kids after the Greek Gods!

Evan Perseus - 14

Hector Draco - 11

Roslyn "Ro" Psyche - 7

Odysseus "Odie" Christopher - 3

Translations:

Bebe - baby

Querida - darling

[morvantmortuary]

Hector “Hex” Emile Morvant-Casares

(The Summoner)

(Rarae Aves’s Slasher/Necromancer OC)

(art commissioned from @/roachcult on tumblr)

“Aww, no need to be shy. People look better on camera than they think they do… or at least, they do on mine. C’mon, trust me, I’ll show you. Just like that… and smile— Perfecto.”

[Previously, before Volume I…]

age: early 40s (10/1, libra and he takes it v seriously.)

birthplace: greymoon, calcascieu parish, louisiana usa (though he has dual mexican citizenship.)

height: 5’10”

current location: lurking somewhere around greymoon, louisiana. (though you might want to check your closet. just to be certain.)

favorite book: a head full of ghosts - paul tremblay

(what he thinks his walk-on music would be: ellos quieren sangre - varsovia

what it actually would be: HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T - fall out boy

fc: diego luna with longer hair and usually in a hoodie. it’s a vibe, what can I say?)

hobbies: Hex’s daytime passion is photography, but he still finds plenty to be fascinated by in his spare time. he’s an avid lover of visual art of all kinds, and his obsession with the use of negative space carries over into the enjambments and caesuras of poetry. he’s prone to finding a good spot in the backyard for stargazing, and has a knack for picking out constellations wherever he is a leftover from spending time with his father as a young boy, not that he’d ever talk about it. Being alone a lot, one of his greatest pleasures is cooking - he finds food is often a way of going home when going back is actually impossible, for one reason or another. While his dessert baking seems to be under some sort of curse he blames the Oaxaca Incident for that, he can work miracles with bread dough, often using the process as a physical de-stressor when he’s stressed or anxious. In terms of things that bring him joy, he loves dancing in some grungy little spot to a good live band - but even more than that, he loves dancing with you.

You’re a recent discovery, his latest fixation - but you’re already the apple of his eye.

occupation: Hector has had a variety of different jobs over the years usually because he’s he’s fleeing from the scene of his latest crime but he’s most consistently found a way to keep his bills paid through freelance photography. sometimes under different names, depending on the circumstances, but it all goes to the same place. recently re-settled in greymoon, he’s trying to get a business set up within the mortuary that would provide memorial photography of the deceased to their mourners. it hasn’t caught on yet, but he figures it’s only a matter of time. and considering three of the four active morvants are back in greymoon, there’s going to be more than enough opportunity.

…If you know how to ask, and when to ask, and how much to pay, he’s also a skilled medium who can commune fluently with the realm beyond the Veil. If you make your case (and meet the fee), he’s willing to lend an ear to your grievance beyond the grave. But you might not always like what he brings back from the other side.

“There’s… pretty limited opportunities when it comes to the local galleries, I’m not gonna lie.” Hex is fiddling with the camera hanging on a strap around his neck, as usual. He grimaces, and it’s still sly, handsome (with the right quirk of his lips, his teeth could flash into something cruel). “But where else was I gonna go, you know? Family is… complicated.” His dark eyes find his finger tracing the shutter button (there’s a flicker of restlessness, and they look back up constantly like he’s watching something invisible to the rest of the world). “…It’s not all bad, though.” His grimace twists itself into a smirk, and he meets your gaze again like there’s a joke he hasn’t told you the punchline to yet. “New opportunities show up wherever you are. You just have to know how to look for them, y’know?” (And the way his eyes give you a slow, deliberate once over, you know he’s looking at you.)

the present, in a way:

Okay, sure, so Hector came back to Greymoon to snipe the mantle as head necromancer out from under Maxi’s nose. And he’s still definitely planning on doing that, thank you very much.

Things just… maybe got a bit sidetracked, when he realized he didn’t want Maxi’s Obsession to go the route most Obsessions go. Or didn’t want to see the cousin he’d thought of as a brother for most of his life to turn into a total monster.

It’s okay if he’s the monster. That’s different. He doesn’t have Maxi’s same connection to this crummy little town and its people, they need him. FT can handle their shit, they proved that handily, but they clearly need him too. Maxi deserves to have that much if he can get it, Hex figures, he never wanted the title anyway. Not like he did. Does. Of course he does. He’s given up far too much to turn around now - he’s in it whether his feet get cold or not.

Besides, he can’t think of anyone who’s needed him in a long time. Not that way. He can’t even count Rora anymore, because not only did she bring her damn self back from the dead (and won’t let anyone forget it), she’s his main competitor now.

And besides, one more Morvant out of the running means things will be that much less bloody when push comes to shove.

So he figures he’s stuck here as he hunts down the rest of his links in his Chain, more or less. It’s an easy way to keep an eye on Rora’s scheming because she’s up to something, he knows it, he just can’t figure out what and hanging around the old stomping grounds means he can just lay low and observe, for now. With his undead uncle likely out for blood, and whoever that fucking weirdo was lurking around the cemetery, the twins are likely going to want the extra set of hands. Y’know. Just in case.

...Besides. You have the most exquisitely colored essence, and he’s having a hard time ignoring the urge to crack you open like a bottle of paint and play with it. Just a little. Just enough to see what it looks like on his film.

You’re probably the most interesting thing he’s seen in a while, if he’s being honest with himself. 

Whether that’s a good or a bad thing for you, well. Time will tell.

favorite snippets outside the main arc:

Hector comforting a sad nonny.

no mistakes, know the stakes

no confíes en mi

Hex + Just Dance

Hex + sleeping

(Relevant playlists, other stories, and chapters in the overall continuity can be found on the main masterlist here.

all his usual tags are included in this post.

and as always, I’m not fluent in Spanish yet, so any suggested tweaks to Hex’s speech/vocab are always appreciated if necessary!)

[hectorisagoodboy]

Hola!

@babycharmander​ 

@swanpit​

@lloronala​

 I was inspired by this post:

https://hectorisagoodboy.tumblr.com/post/628805179519696896/babycharmander-okay-so-there-was-one-thing-i

🥰

And even if other artists have done the same drawing:

https://hectorisagoodboy.tumblr.com/post/629037894745669632

https://hectorisagoodboy.tumblr.com/post/628969080506974208

I wanted to contribute to this new headcanon! ❤ Now  it looks like the drawing challenge: “draw this with your style”! 🤣

-

Imelda: “Are you still there? If that's okay with you, I can take care of your marks!”

Hector: “Can you? Do you really want to...? I mean, of course it's ok!!!”

-

....

Imelda: “Stay still, or it will take all morning...!”

Hector: “ ¡Aww querida! I love your expression when you are focused!”

Imelda: “Can you sit still for a moment?! Don't distract me!” ❤

Hector: 😂

Imelda: “Stop!”

Hector: “Ok...”

Imelda:  “Don’t laugh...”

Hector: “ Ok... I don't laugh!” 😆

 Imelda: “Ah, come on Hector....” 😑

Hector: “Ok...” 

- I think Hector would love to have his marks  painted by Imelda! 😁

[berlyhector]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐙!

BERLIOZ  é  o  apelido  de  HECTOR LEFÈVRE SONG,  um  jovem  pariense  de  VINTE E DOIS  anos.  atualmente,  está  trabalhando  como  MÚSICO  na  ópera  de  Storybrooke,  além  de  ser  uma  ATRAÇÃO MUSICAL  do  pub  Saint-Alexandre.  

INFORMATION, W CONNECTIONS, PINTEREST, SPOTIFY.

APELIDO: berly, berlioz, hercules, hec.

SIGNO: câncer.

GOSTOS: tocar piano, chá gelado, roupas confortáveis, seu colar de ouro com um pingente de cruz, anéis de ouro, livros da agatha christie, pod e vape, escrever, café preto, sorvete de baunilha, harry styles, acidentally in love de couting crows, tirar fotos, penteados de cabelos, pintar as unhas, deitar sob as estrelas, musicais, cachorros e gatos, rotina e monotonia, correr.

DESGOSTOS: filmes da dc, casas grandes, aglomeração, muito álcool, jogar tênis, refrigerante, pizza, a cor vermelha, willem dafoe, harry potter, receber ordens, verão, pessoas grosseiras, indiscrição, invasão de privacidade, mentiras, séries no geral, hip-hop e rap, sapos, nadar.

PERSONALIDADE.

MTBI: infp-t.

ALINHAMENTO MORAL: chaotic good.

TEMPERAMENTO: comumente melancólico e fleumático.

QUALIDADES: curioso, criativo, inteligente, espírito jovem, simpático, charmoso, leal, sensível, romântico.

DEFEITOS: egoísta, inquieto, disperso, apático, pessimista, travesso.

BIOGRAFIA.

Do divórcio dos pais, Hector lembra-se apenas do que se refere à mudança de Paris para o interior de Maine. O que, de fato, sabe, contudo, está ao redor do que ouviu por entre as paredes, sendo quieto como de costume. Dessa forma, sabe que a família de sua mãe nunca se deu a favor do casamento dela com um funcionário da casa e que, diziam as más línguas, haviam ficado mais do que satisfeitos com a separação. Esse, por sua vez, parecia ser um tópico que custava a ser tocado. De resto, sua infância se torna um mar de memórias que contam com os irmãos, sua mãe e uma tia querida. 

Crescendo sob os olhos de uma grande apreciadora de artes, era de se esperar que Hector estivesse envolvido nos mais diversos tipos de aulas. Suas preferida? As aulas de música, especialmente as que envolviam piano, e o ballet. Hoje, contudo, sua alma melodramática se espelha na música como forma de reflexo e é como se sua mãe estivesse certa desde o seu nascimento. Seu nome não é uma simples coincidência do destino, é uma singela homenagem a um grande compositor romântico francês, Hector Berlioz.. 

É de tal grande compositor que surgem os apelidos que carregou de sua infância até hoje. É comumente chamado de Berlioz ou Berly e até os prefere, se for para ser sincero.

De qualquer maneira, já crescido, junto da música e talvez por conta dela, Hector descobriu um outro grande amor: a escrita. Iniciou-se com composições simples e hoje ele é comumente visto perdido em seus pensamentos ao que escreve, não só composições, mas poemas e prosa.

No que diz respeito personalidade, é geralmente muito quieto, preferindo observar e ouvir a falar primeiramente. Ele tem uma alma melancólica que não se esconde, entretanto, não deixar de ter parte da travessura que sempre correu seu sangue. Não é de se impressionar facilmente, sendo até chamado de ranzinza por vezes, principalmente por sua habilidade de se irritar facilmente, contudo tem um coração de ouro, um romântico, honesto e ambicioso músico.

SHHHHH... A VERDADE QUE HÁ DE VIR À TONA: hector se trata de berlioz, do conto dos aristogatos.

[killmebutneverinsultme2]

character sheet.

Full name: Captain Jack Sparrow (née Jack Teague)

Nicknames: Jackie/Jacky/Jacky-boy (by his father), Smith/Smithy (alias), Desgraciado (by angry Angelica), [insert colourful curse words by people scorned the world over]

Height: 5′9″ (though I often imagine him around 5′7″)

Age: Varies dependent on point in timeline. Movie age range 38-61. Typically in early 40′s.

Zodiac: Gemini

Languages: English, some Spanish, bits of French and others. Also some Umshoko.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair colour: Brunette. Gradually lighter brown/blonde as his hair sun-bleaches with age.

Eye colour: Dark brown

Skin tone: White but Caribbean-bronzed

Body type: Slight. He’s slim and 68kg. Does have muscle however what with all the rowing, rope-hauling, running, swinging and general flapping about. He’s a sailor after all.

Accent: Sort of bastardised Cockney slapped into its own thing.

Dominant hand: Right but is quite adept with his left, too. Eyesight’s just as good as ever :U

Posture: Ridiculous. Generally stands straight in attempts to impress but owing to a combination of sea-legs, drunkenness, bravado and madness he lilts, minces and swaggers. His fingers don’t like to stay still, especially when he’s thinking.

CHILDHOOD

Place of birth: Caribbean, on a pirate ship.

Manner of birth: Relatively ‘normal’ delivery except for the fact it happened during a typhoon inside the cabin of a pirate ship.

First words: ‘Dad’, ‘Code’

Siblings: None he’s aware of

Parents: Father - Edward Teague. Mother - unknown, named by my canon “Querida”.

Parental involvement: Jack’s mother raised him only until he was a toddler before her flighty ways called her out to adventure and her eventual doom. Teague was frequently absent, leaving Jack to grow up among the denizens and other children of Shipwreck Cove, however Teague was extremely strict in teaching him the Pirate Code to the point Jack was scared witless of him. Teague managed his education, though that also meant delegating to other elders who had retired to the Cove. Otherwise Teague only ever showed up at opportune moments to assist his son.

ADULT LIFE

Occupation: Ha. Good one. Oh, fine. Pirate captain. Typically of the Black Pearl.

Close friends: Joshamee Gibbs. Once Hector Barbossa. Sort of Will Turner. Jack doesn’t really do close friends out of lack of trust.

Financial status: Ranges between ‘reasonable’ and ‘destitute’. He’s a pirate with fluctuating luck.

Driver’s license: A what?

Criminal record: We’ll be here all day. Generally hasn’t done the really despicable crimes. Typically petty ones. 

SEX & ROMANCE

Sexual orientation: Bisexual/Pansexual

Romantic orientation: Bi/Panromantic, possibly Demi. He doesn’t like to let himself get caught

Preferred emotional role: Dominant | Possessive | Submissive

Preferred sexual role: Dominant | Submissive

Turn ons: Attractive people, flirting, danger, The Black Pearl, a lot of things tbh. 

Turn offs: Unattractive people (he’s a touch shallow), being betrayed to death, clinginess (unless he feels it back)

Love language: Physical Touch, Gifts and Quality Time.

Relationship tendencies: Heart on his sleeve. He loves passionately and fleetingly save a special few whom he never stops loving but still ultimately doesn’t stay with (except in threads where obviously we have ships who capture him completely). He’s a complete scoundrel and a user, though he doesn’t do so out of disrespect, only from the joy of life and the desire for pleasant company. He does not like to be tied down, ever free like the bird of his name. He breaks hearts and trust frequently.

MISCELLANEOUS

Character theme song: Jack Sparrow by Hans Zimmer :P

Hobbies to pass the time: Drinking rum, sailing the Black Pearl, frequenting brothels, generally pirating. 

Mental illnesses: Smatterings of PTSD. Locker madness. Narcissism. Alcoholism. 

Physical illnesses: Syphilis. Someone please give him some penicillin.

Left or right brained: Right brained though some left factors in there, too. 

Fears: Indefinite confinement/slavery, being forgotten, death.

Self confidence level: High. Except when he’s properly afraid, then it takes a drastic downward spiral.

Vulnerabilities: His good heart. Fear of attachment. When his luck runs out. He’s just a squishy mortal.

Tagged by: @scottishoctopus​

Tagging: You lot what be reading this.

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Lem was married to you, but you knew he was sleeping with Tigre, a Hispanic woman from a case. He’s sneak out, leave you asleep in your king sized bed dreaming of holding him.

“Curtis.” You bark as he stands. He stops in his tracks, eyes wide meeting yours.

“Hey, sorry baby. You can go back to sleep. Vic called.” He assures, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Yeah? Your phone didn’t ring. Who is she? Curtis, who is she?” You ask, sitting up and crossing your arm over your chest.

“Baby it’s not—“

“Yes it is. Is she pretty?” You sniff, wiping at the stray tears falling.

“Honey.”

“Don’t.”

“Honey, I promise you, baby. There’s no one but you. Now, I gotta head to work. I’ll see ya when I get home.” He assures, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, stuffing his feet into his boots and disappearing. You waited a good two hours, cooking a hot meal, and headed to the Barn. You arrived, are buzzed in immediately, met by Claudette and a dark haired man you’d never met before.

“This is Dutch, he’s my partner. What’s goin’ on Honey?” She asks, walking with you. You shrugged, gripping the doorknob and praying to see your blonde headed husband when Claudette’s voice stops you.

“He’s not in there.” She calls, eyeing you confused.

“Oh! He said he had to come to work. Is he out with the guys on the street right now?” Claudette’s Eyes net yours in sadness. You already knew the answer. He wasn’t. You heave a sigh to try to hide the tears as you step into the strike room and put the food in the fridge, flopping onto the chair. You too where Hispanic, dark hair and bright green eyes, but you were a little on the thick side. With wide hips and a big bust, he loved your body, even used to praise it like some kind of temple. You start to cry. Hours passed and you eventually couldn’t wait any longer. You figured there was enough to go home and pack.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” You heard him from behind you. When you turned, you were met by Lem, Shane, and Vic.

“What am I doing here?” You cough, and the laughing erupts from your throat. He watched on, confused and scared.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a little smile on his lips.

“You might be enough man for two women,” you growl, jabbing a finger into Vic’s chest. “But he’s barely enough for one.” You turn to Lem, your hand cracking across his face. “You don’t get to stand there and ask me why I’m here. I brought you lunch because I THOUGHT you were working all night again. Clearly not.” You nip, grabbing your purse and heading to the door. You twist around once more, eyes meeting the blonde’s. “I hope she’s got a good pussy and at least knows how to cook.” With that you swiftly disappeared.

“Fuck, man.” Lem starts to pace the room, eyes jutting back and forth between Vic and Shane. “What do I do man?” He cries, heading to the strike room. Vic grabs his arm.

“You go home. You apologize. You tell her what you did, man. You tell her all of it. Tell her you’re sorry, that you’ll sleep on the couch. Maybe she’ll forgive you.” He pats the stressed shoulder of his coworker.

Lem slinked into the house, heart in his shoes. The rustling in the bedroom gave you away.

“Honey?” He asks, peeking in the door. You had two suitcases packed on the bed, you were zipping the final zipper. You didn’t say a word as you grabbed the handle of the bags. “Baby! No no no no.” He whispers, pulling the suitcases from your hands and sitting them to the side.

“No what?” You ask, eyes locked on the stain on his shirt, jaw clenched shut.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m so sorry. I just, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just give me another chance, please.” His hands grasp yours, him crouching to meet your low gaze.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” He asks, chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“Say it.” You demand.

“Say what?” He asks a little louder.

“Tell me what you did. I want you to say it out loud. Own that shit.” You growl, meeting his broken gaze for only a moment before averting your eyes once more.

“Honey.”

“Say it.” Your arms cross over your chest.

“I slept with another woman.” He whispers, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

“You didn’t sleep. You fucked another woman.” You seethe, meeting his gaze once more.

“Yeah, I know baby, I’m sorry.” He whimpers, rubbing his hands along the back of his neck.

“Tell me her name.”

“Honey, no.”

“Her name.”

“No, you don’t need to know it.” He assures, grabbing your hands.

“Name.” You nip.

“Tigre.” He breathes, grabbing his chest.

“The puta banging Hector?” You ask, eyeing him.

“Hey—“ he tries to say something but stops.

“What.” You dare him to keep talking. He grabs your upper arms and pulls you against him.

“I love you querida.” He hushes, nose against yours.

“No, you don’t.” You slam two fists against his chest as the tears fall from your cheeks. “You call her that too?” You shriek, stepping away and heading towards the door.

“No! I didn’t!” He cries, and you hear a loud thud. Glancing over your shoulder, you find him sitting on the floor on his knees. Knuckles resting on the ground, you watched as he started to cry. “I’m just sorry. I can’t say anything to make it better. I can’t take it back, but I would. I’m so sorry, I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“Please just let me go.” You whisper, but you watch him stand, dragging his boots towards you and wrapping his big arms around you.

“I can’t.” He hushes, falling apart. His heart no longer pounded quickly but loud and slow. He held tightly, heaving a sigh, the tears soaking your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I did sleep—fuck her.” He chokes the last two, he knew you needed him to say it. “And I’d take it all back, I love you so much. Please just, just stay. Let me fix it, baby. Querida. You’re my life.” You wrap your arms around his back and hug tightly.

“It’s okay mi vida. I still love you. No more lying and hiding.” He nods against your shoulder, hauling you up into his arms and carrying you to bed. He hushed into your ear sweet nothings as he cuddled you close to him.

[miafic]

Accidentally hit send too soon but I was wondering if you had any book recommendations I’ve been trying to read some more :)

the best book i’ve read lately (by far) was wonder by rj palacio

some recommendations from my recent reading - the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime, five feet apart, notes from the blender (which has the best male main character ive read in years and maybe ever), scars by cheryl rainfield (if you can handle it), and anything written by ellen hopkins. the most recent one of hers i read was called rumble, and it was pretty good. identical is my favorite of hers. the goldfinch was also fairly good but it is no joke. it’s almost 800 pages and it’s slow and a little dry.

some older recommendations - the princess diaries books are hilarious and have been my faves since i was 12. meg cabot (who wrote them) did this other series i really liked when i was that same age called the mediator which i thought was cool but haven’t read since then. it’s about a girl named suze who’s - you guessed it - a mediator and she moves into this house and there’s a ghost of “a hot guy named jesse.” im p sure his name is hector de silva and he’s a cowboy type and he calls her “querida” and those are the books that taught me the word “albeit” but also the h slur so. do with that what you will. 

continuing! winnie the pooh books are a delight. so witty and sweet. twilight is actually fun to read, and i will stand by that. same with the hunger games and harry potter. i love love love looking for alaska. and, as always, i will plug my favorite books ever, a series of unfortunate events. if you need to feel occupied for a while with books, there are 13 of them!! and they are all great!! rereading them as you get older just makes them even better!!!!!!!

ive honestly read some very bad books lately, and right now i’ve just started a new book called putting makeup on dead people which sounds interesting but is shaping up to be bad as well, although i cant tell for sure yet. (the main character is a high school girl named donna even though it was published in 2011, and i just can’t get past that. idk. i think im outgrowing ya which SUCKS but... you know. im 24 lol it’s probably time.)

next on my list are social intercourse (which started off so sexually graphic that i put it down two weeks ago and haven’t picked it up again), food, girls, and other things that i can’t have, and we know it was you.

but yeah, wonder was a book i finished in a few hours. could not put it down. i had to stop in the middle to eat dinner, and it was like i was tearing myself away. i definitely recommend it if you haven’t read it.

[samfishers]

Querida Tralia Devo lhe agradecer pelo pequeno frasco de poção invisível, fiz um bom uso dele em uma recente confraternização. O indivíduo chegou perturbando e quando ele olhou para o lado eu já havia desaparecido, estou muito agradecida e as ervas de chá são excelentes. Se houver qualquer coisa que queira é só me pedir, mandarei imediatamente. Atenciosamente Cristina.

Cara Cristina,

Fico feliz em auxiliar. Vejo que a convivência fez com que desenvolvessemos estratégias similares pois fazemos uso da invisibilidade para o mesmo fim. Manjuba deve estar me procurando até agora. (Apesar disso, ainda não sinto urgência em socar a fuça de ninguém. Ainda.)

Não se incomode em retribuir, lhe cedi esses itens sem esperar nada em troca. Mas... caso achar por aí um corvo falante, me avise. Ou não. Talvez incomode o Hector. Ele já tem lidado com Corvos o suficiente.

Tralia

(No verso da carta, uma ilustração rudimentar da silhueta de Hector atirando uma adaga no corvo)