#i kept getting caught up in canon timelines and relationships and finally tried to just vibe and it worked out
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Concept that just popped into my head: Milgram characters doing "get ready with me" videos
Aw, this was so fun!! I always love your hc style of normal au/everyone's chilling, and tried to go the same route -- it was so cute to think about :D
Haruka: Puts on his outfit for the day and explains everything in great detail. He has lots of comfortable items and fun colors. At the very end he speaks off-camera and you realize Muu was standing there cheering him on the whole time. He gets a lot of encouraging comments, and Muu and Fuuta keep an eye on the account to delete any nasty ones that may come in.
Yuno: Shows her outfit, makeup, nails, and bag she’s taking with her. She tries out a variety of styles (not just sticking to the more feminine looks we see in canon). She gives a bit of a tutorial and tips as well as showing things off. Has a main account for her daytime outfits, and a more private one for her nighttime looks. Mahiru is the only one aware of the latter account.
Fuuta: Layers. Lots of layers. There will be three sweatshirts laid out in front of him and you wonder which he’s going to choose before realizing he’s putting them all on. He focuses most on his sneakers and sportswear. He plays loud music over the videos, not knowing what to say. Has gotten into comment-section arguments over those yellow socks.
Muu: Also does a full look at her appearance: nails, accessories, etc. She mentions where you can buy everything, and it’s unclear whether she was sponsored by these brands or is just excited to talk about them. (Whether they’re actually together or not,) she’ll have Haruka on as a guest a lot to show off couple’s outfit ideas. She definitely has the biggest following, and loves recommending Haruka and the others’ accounts.
Shidou: He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but his account is getting tons of views so the others keep encouraging him to make videos. He’s just glad to be connecting with the other prisoners as they show him how to do it. He dresses in a mix of the sleek patterned shirts and dad fits, and both types of videos are equally popular.
Mahiru: None of the serious-faced flirts or little pouty faces – it’s all smiles for her. Every video is basically a full tutorial – she has captions and a voiceover giving commentary on everything. She has the next biggest following, and interacts constantly. She loves getting questions “what should I wear on an x type date?” “How do I dress to impress x type of person?” because she always comes up with the perfect outfit to help.
Kazui: A bit confused as well, though he does know a lot about style. His interro question makes it seem like he wanted kids – I think he’d really get into the account as one of those “Dad How Do I” types. He talks about matching things, clothes upkeep, shaving/hairstyling.
Amane: Also wouldn’t have made the videos without prompting from the others, but enjoys it a lot. She usually talks about practical things instead of “vain” fashion: she’s excited to show off a new raincoat, sturdy shoes, useful pockets, etc. Over time, she leans into outfits that are more cute and colorful, gaining confidence in them.
Mikoto: He started the account as something for one of his design classes, and got really into it. He likes to challenge himself with unique styles and clothing articles, making pretty much anything work. He keeps everything professional in case an employer/coworker sees, but isn’t afraid to add some flirting and flaunting in there. If he’s open about his plurality, he’ll have some special videos, “choosing an outfit for John today!”
Kotoko: Like Amane, she’s more excited about practical outfits. She’ll show off clothes that have good flexibility, places to store and conceal objects, and heavy duty materials. She’ll rate jackets, boots, and other “military-grade” things for what has worked best for her. She’s very attentive to the accounts that follow her – she does full background checks to make sure her info is being used for justice, not more crime. Mahiru convinces her to do a special where she puts all her piercings in and talks about why she chose them/what they mean.
Es: Experiments with a lot of new styles, trying to figure out what they like. They also just play music in the back, not having much to say about each outfit. They'd rather focus on their series of dressing-up-Jackalope videos, much to his dismay...
#milgram#haruka sakurai#yuno kashiki#fuuta kajiyama#muu kusunoki#shidou kirisaki#mahiru shiina#kazui mukuhara#amane momose#mikoto kayano#kotoko yuzuriha#es#jackalope#thank you so much for the ask!! i didnt mean to take so long for a cute lil post but ah well#i kept getting caught up in canon timelines and relationships and finally tried to just vibe and it worked out#i love all your cast headcanons ;-;#it was still hardest for shidou and amane... i think theyd be the least likely to start/stick with it#but itd still be fun for them if they did :3#kazui starts slow but once he gets the hang of it i think hed be really into the whole thing#i can see es running a real cute pet account#both pet care and just cute/funny videos#fuuta thinks hes slick using a fake account to secretly follow kotoko but she knows its him...#mahiru follows everyone and leaves sweet comments on every video <3#though in canon im picturing yuno waking up every day to torment fuuta by going 'get ready with me' and explaining how she#puts on her uniform every. single. day. despite his protests
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Snowboat AU (Edenverse AU)
Note: This post is from a wiki created by @lord-eden in the Adventure Bay Amino, and is recreated by me (ares-ariborn) with their permission. Unfortunately, the original source was quietly deleted by them. Thus, this Tumblr post is a recreation of said wiki, based on the screenshots and artworks I have managed to save, as well as the details I could recall in the AU.
Disclaimer: These are all my headcanons of Jake and Cap’n Turbot’s relationship and how it progresses over time. It may be a lil wild 😂
Warning: Contains some homophobia ⚠️
Introduction
¡Ay Dios Mio! I’ve been these two together since the end of Season 2. I can’t recall why i started paring these two together either (my memory is poor). I guess I wanted to make a funny crackship that I ended up growing attached to? Oops
Being that I made so many headcanons and a specific timeline for their relatonship, think it’s best if I write it all down so I don’t forget. I’m gonna be extra af and spill everything out on this wiki. Before we get into this I’d like to point out that I’ll be referring to Cap’n Turbot as his canon first name, Horatio.
The Beginning
In Season 1, they had no idea the other existed. Horatio just recently moved to Adventure Bay, on Seal Island. He was finally able to get his own ship and his own life. Far away from his overbearing family. Life as a peaceful fisherman was quite peaceful, but it got lonely real quick. Horatio was a social guy, and he was curious to meet the folks in Adventure Bay. He made a good image on himself very quickly for his positive attitude. He made a lot of friends in a span of a few months.
Meanwhile, Jake was doing his own thing. Around this time, he always stayed in his mountain. He maintained his resort and his chores on his own daily. He was extremely lonely but he didn’t really mind it. Even with years passed, Jake was still going over Timber’s Passing. The young man didn’t like to show his negative emotions at all. He tried so hard to not look so depressed in front of his guess but it was quite obvious considering he always looked tired. He hardly had any friends. Wouldn’t even leave his mountain unless Mr. Porter couldn’t deliver his produce to him or unless Mayor Goodway wanted to speak to him. Also, the paranoia of seeing his father, Al, again was another reason why he avoided town. Again, Jake and Horatio don’t know each other yet. This is their lives before they meet.
In Season 2, their lives only got better. Horatio allowed his cousin, François to live with him on Seal Island. During this time, Jake met and adopted Everest. Everest’s presence helped Jake go through the tough times of his life, even turned his life around. He began socializing with the citizens down in Adventure Bay, while at the same time avoiding his father. Since both were well known in town now, they saw each other as acquaintances only. They never had a full conversation yet.
In Season 3, Francois encouraged Horatio to take snowboarding lessons on Jake’s Mountain. Horatio wasn’t too stoked about it because he’s fine just staying in his comfort zone. That’s when Jake and Horatio finally got to meet each other. Jake was in a good mood that day, and Horatio kept making him laugh the way he worded things. When they were doing the lessons, Horatio ended up crashing into a tree. His helmet wasn’t probably secured on his head, so it fell off before impact. He crashed real hard too so Jake bought Horatio inside his cabin to tend him the ‘gnarly‘ bump on his forehead. Jake reassured him that everything is okay and that his bump wasn’t as bad as it looked. The two ended up just sitting in the living room chatting about each other’s interests. Both had things in common. From then on, the two started a friendship. Horatio started to invite Jake and Everest on his voyages now. Also Horatio would be seen snowboarding more often, hoping he can bump into Jake again sometime.
A year later, Horatio caught feelings first. Then on one voyage out at sea, Jake secretly told Everest that he had feelings for Horatio. Midday, Everest then trie to play Cupid and encourage each other to admit their feelings. At sunset, the two sat down on the stairs of the Flounder together. Everest eavesdropped from behind them, hearing them say to each other “I love you“.
You could now say that the ship has sailed
The Marriage
Years passed, and their relationship is still flourishing. Horatio thought it was the appropriate time to ask Jake to be his husband. Of course Jake accepted the proposal and the two started planning the wedding. The two didn’t speak much about their engagement and only invited close friends and family. The ceremony was on a small budget but at least they got married under the Magical Mer-Moon.
A year later, Jezebel came into the family. Jake and Horatio compromised and made a few decisions. Horatio sold Seal Island to Francois and moved in with Jake. Jake kept the resort open and they ran in together for awhile. Horatio still has the Flounder. His love for the sea was still present and he still fished and traveled every now and then.
The Future
Everything seemed fine until Horatio’s mom heard about the wedding. His mom is a very traditional woman and wanted him to find a perfect woman to bare his children. She didn’t like Jake one bit and threatened to force the rest of the family to disown Horatio because of his love life. He tried to reason with his mother and they eventually came to an agreement. She always wanted her son to join the navy, or at least the military just like his father. To satisfy her and to prevent her from controlling his life more than she already has, Horatio decided to join the Navy. He had to tell Jake everything. About his mom, the Navy... Jake couldn’t understand Horatio’s decisions, but he supported him anyway.
Years go by, two other children came into the family. Their names were Benjamin and Francette. Jake and Everest were always taking care of them while Horatio was busy out at sea. Every night, Jake would sit outside his cabin and ponder how his husband is doing. Horatio’s absence made Jake feel depressed again. Jake truly missed him and wished his husband could just stay on this mountain instead of out there. Horatio had to miss some of his children’s birthday and milestones. And when he actually had time off to visit, he would only stay for a month. Then it was back to sea, waiting to be let off another for a month. It was on rare occasions where Horatio would be laid off for a few months. It was only on rare occasions where Horatio would be laid off for a few months. It was usually for family emergencies.
Their love for each other was still there. When they reunited, Horatio always reassured Jake he still loves him dearly. I’d like to point out that Jake is in his 30s and Horatio was in his 40s here.
Another few years went by, the children were growing up. Jezebel was now 18, while Benjamin and Francette were teens. A transport incident occurred while Horatio was on patrol. Unfortunately a lot of damage was done and he didn’t make it. Jake was, of course, heartbroken. His children tried to calm him down that night as he was sobbing and screaming in Jezebel’s arms. Adventure Bay mourned for months. They even had a funeral done for Horatio. Everyone who knew him was there, except for his mother. Jake noticed her absence and scoffed to himself.
Life went on. The Flounder gained new ownership from Francette, who was also interested in Marine Biology. Benjamin left Adventure Bay with friends when he turned 18. No one knows where he is now. Jake and Jezebel worked together to maintain the resort. When Jake retired, Jezebel took over the mountain. Jake will often sit and remember the good ol’ days with Turbot. He would look up in the sky and smile, hoping his lover’s spirit is smiling down at him too.
The End
Additional Info:
Jake was the only person that was kind enough to try squid jerky. He said it tasted like chicken and that made Horatio extremely happy.
I can confirm that the children just popped into existence.
Yumi happily offers to babysit the children when needed.
Jake is homosexual. Horatio is bisexual.
Jake was 25 and Horatio was 30 when they started dating.
Snowboat was originally a crackship that I grew attached to.
Jake is good at singing, and would sing to Horatio when they go on dates.
Snowboat Playlist
Sweet Sun - Milky Chance
Loveland - Milky Chance
Lessons in Love - Neon Trees
I Would Do Anything For You - Foster The People
Out of My League - Fitz and the Tantrums
The Other Side of Paradise - Glass Animals
Jackie and Wilson - Hozier
Halo - Beyonce
Hold Each Other - A Great Big World
I Found - Amber Run
Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men
Levitating - Dua Lipa
Something About You - Eyedress
Stay - Milky Chance
Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows
Your Love is My Drug - Ke$ha
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loved you once, part two [angel reyes x fem!reader]
A/N: Muahahahaha. IT’S HERE!I know, it’s been over a month. And I’m really sorry for that. But HOLY SHIT, the traction “loved you once’ got was way more than anything I could ever have imagined or expected. I am just so grateful to everyone for reading. For the people I’ve met and gotten to know since engaging in the Mayans fandom and posting fic. Honestly, this wouldn’t exist without you.
For this part, as before I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit and added some elements from season three in here. You’ll know them when you see them. Also, if you can tell me where Frida’s date comes from, you win a cookie, and maybe a hug from me.
Part one was based on "Loved You Once" by Clara Mae, this part was definitely moreso based on "You Broke Me First" by Tate McRae. And "After Hours" by the Weeknd. Honestly, the playlist for this fic is a sad, horny mess. You wanna cry, but feel confusedly turned on by it? I may drop the link.
As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile).
Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (aka Frida -- as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.); also slight Frida x other, and slight Coco x Frida.
Word Count: 23.4K (I KNOW, OKAY?) of ANGST! Half-baked simile and overbaked metaphor. Heartbreak swathed in honey-sweetness, and biting frustration. But maybe, ultimately, the balm of peace?
Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, descriptions of sex, fingering, oral (female receiving) so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry). This honestly feels just like a compendium of heartbreak.
Summary: You and Angel have been broken up for a while. After the ill-fated run-in at the patch party, will you continue on as you have? Or is it the push you both needed to reconnect? Angel loved you once; will you love him again?
Read part one here.
---
It doesn't snow in Santo Padre.
It's not that you enjoyed being cold, or particularly wanted snow. But a part of you had always romanticized the concept of a “classic” winter -- the feeling of crystalline fluff tumbling from the heavens to dust your cheeks and lashes, bathing your surroundings in an ocean of chilly silver-white. Of retreating from the exterior world's glacial crispness and into the warmth of your home, bathed in an orange-golden glow, the cinnamon-y scent of something baking.
Of falling into the arms of your beloved, someone who would seep the chill from your bones with his warm embrace, kissing the tip of your cold nose. Who would admire the snowflakes caught in your lashes before they melted away as he presses his lips to yours. Cherishing you and cradling your cheeks as he does so, like you're the snowflake he's afraid will melt away.
But it doesn't snow in Santo Padre. Your idyllic winter fantasy is not to be. No snowflakes, no cinnamon; even the man of your reality is, in truth, much harsher than that of any winter chill you could’ve dreamt up on your own.
In the real world, your romance with Angel bloomed, despite the dying light of mid-January. And nearly a year later, it felt like the true harshness of winter had come to your doorstep when you were, quite literally, left out in the cold. Not exactly the stuff of dreams. You know what they say, be careful what you wish for. This frigid winter was inhospitable, and worse than you could have ever imagined.
The stinging numbness of Angel’s harsh treatment of you and subsequent departure left you with frostbitten limbs and an icy heart.
The chill had subsided, had melted away from your bones some in the passing months...
Until a few weeks ago. At that damned patch party that you were foolish enough to attend, despite knowing full well who would be in attendance.
That had gone famously.
Aneesa had come by the next day to drop off your gear, your books, and a wad of cash you’d tried to push off, but that she’d insisted was from Bishop for the night’s work.
“So you are alive,” she’d snipped, her annoyed expression melting into one of sympathy when she’d taken in the shadowed look in your eyes, the sunken nature of your shoulders. How you’d shed your party clothes for one of Angel’s old t-shirts he’d left at your place and never come by to reclaim, something you hadn’t done in a while. And if you were honest with yourself (something you were a little afraid to be in this moment of weakness), you knew it was wildly unhealthy to still have it-- let alone to take comfort in wearing it. To want to take comfort in anything to do with Angel.
Though Aneesa hadn’t been in the room when it had all gone down, otherwise occupied with Gilly, she’d heard more than enough from Coco and EZ, Gaby standing to the side with an empathetic expression as EZ recounted how Angel had basically run you off the property in his insistence to speak to you. How you’d looked ready to burst.
You’d apologized, of course, for not responding to her texts and calls. For worrying her. She’d waved the apologies away, opting to scoop you into her signature warm embrace. But it wasn’t just Aneesa.
The texts from that night went unanswered, despite the near-constant buzzing of your phone.
It had nothing on the buzzing of the thoughts in your own head, replaying just what-the-fuck had happened at that party.
“I care, Frida.”
“... and if I wanted you back?”
“Please, querida.”
Frida, this. Querida, that. Honestly, it was too much.
You were smart to get out of there. You were right to get out of there. You’d said what you’d needed to say in that moment, even if it didn’t scratch the surface of everything you’d wanted to say to Angel since he tossed your shit in a box all those months ago.
You’d almost thought you were back in mid-winter, with the chill that had resided in your bones after you’d gone home, hands shaking and clammy with the nerves from confronting Angel. Your skin felt like it was vibrating on a different frequency. Nauseous. And as you’d slid into bed that night, all you could feel was the cavernously empty side of your bed, threatening to swallow you whole. And not for the first time did you wish it would snow. It would be warmer than the perpetual bleak chill you felt everywhere since Angel had left you.
Now, in the sweltering heat of late summer, the season’s defiant final push before it shunts away into cooler autumn, you find yourself back in your shop. Ever-grateful for central air as you watch the waxy sunshine and passersby through the glass door.
You were leaned over the counter, idly sketching, when the telltale ding signalled the shop’s door opening.
As you looked up and saw just who was making his way in, ever-present gentle thunk and squeak of his boots meeting the linoleum, you were struck with visions of your life a year and a half ago, when this very sight had been what started it all.
A sight that should have been a welcome one -- your man walking into your workplace to greet you on a break with a kiss on the cheek; or, at the very least, what should have been a cherished memory -- the ineluctable meeting with the person you’d thought you’d spend the rest of your life with … all of it was tainted now by the actual sight of him walking to the counter for the first time in a long time (but not nearly long enough, given everything), hands stuffed in his pockets. His eyes were fixed on his feet as he put them one in front of the other on his way to where you stood.
There was no easy lean on the counter. No self-confident rapping of his ringed knuckles against the hardwood. No smirking grin.
The Angel before you was a sulking shell of the man who had blown into your life a year and a half ago with his practiced flirtation and his warm, ochre eyes. Maybe 'Clara Forever' should have been more of a red flag than you'd originally lent it. But you weren't reading between the lines then, content with perusing the beauty of the surface poetry that was the man you'd met.
The man now? Between the lines was all you were reading. How could you trust the surface? After everything. This man was mussed hair and tired eyes, overgrown scruff and rumpled jeans you were sure he’d rolled out of bed in. Despite his disheveled appearance, your guard was still up. You knew how easily Angel slipped beneath your skin, like pin-pricking bolts of easy silk gliding seamlessly into your bloodstream, taking you over before you even knew he was wrapping you up, away, and into himself.
To say you were grateful for the buffer the counter provided between the two of you would be a massive understatement. It may as well be Everest, because there was no damned way you were going to let him scale it and press his way even further into your day, let alone back into your life.
You were silent as you watched Angel unstuff his large hands from the pockets of his kutte and shift a little from foot to foot. You crossed your arms over your chest, flexing in your impatience, and waited for him to speak.
He looked up at you, sullen eyes meeting your shrewd ones for the first time since that night on the clubhouse porch.
Oh. And Angel’s eyes had always held so much emotion. You knew you’d said it before, thought it before -- Angel’s feelings were his worst-kept secret, ever bubbling beneath the surface but inevitably bursting through like greenery through the cracks of stone. Spilling molten lava.
Bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve.
Today, they were glistening; but not with rage or definitive humor. You saw shame. You saw remorse. You had half a mind to tell Angel just where he could shove those feelings, and then he spoke, cracking the brittle, tense silence between the two of you with the gravelly timbre of his voice
“You, uhhhh, got any space for me today?” You had to hand it to him, Angel’s question was unexpected; his eyes left yours to take in the empty chairs at the back of the shop.
You shuddered a little with your exhaling sigh, internally bemoaning the fact that you were alone to face this as you chewed over just how you could answer. Olí had gone to the bakery a few blocks down to procure some late-morning cafecito. You immediately thought of texting him, begging him to come back and save you from the inherent awkwardness of this situation. But you knew he was likely caught in the line of the belated rush. And eager to flirt with the barista.
On your own again, then. Left to battle with your own emotions, and to face the minefield that were Angel’s. To face the consequences your admittedly-childish and flippant exit the night of the party had wrought. And if you were honest with yourself, you were not ready for this. Not quite ready to face the music (music that, to you, sounded like every clichéd, sad song you’d played ad nauseum since Angel had pushed you aside, causing you to unintentionally meet the quotient of every breakup truism).
What was it they said? Clichés are clichés for a reason?
You pulled yourself from the mire of your own thoughts with the sluggish carefulness of a child unsticking their boots from thick mud, hating the way Angel’s eyes shone now with hopefulness as he awaited your answer.
Was he fucking serious?
You uncrossed your arms, sighing loudly now before you answered him.
"My books are full," you said simply, shrugging. “Sorry.” Though you clearly weren’t, your clipped words plinking through the tense air like chips of ice.
Angel looked around the empty shop, eyebrows lifting as he took in the underlying meaning to your statement.
“You got no one in here,” he responded, trying to keep his instant and rushing frustration at the situation at bay. He’d come here to try to talk to you. To hopefully appease your mood by coming to your turf to do so. Make something easy for you. Couldn’t you see that?
You stood unmoving, studying him keenly, almost like you were wagering with yourself on just how long it would take his frustrations to boil over.
You weren’t about to cave so easily.
“Dunno what to tell you, Angel,” he’d quirked up at the way you said his name, almost like a little puppy, and you tried not to let yet another icy shard wedge its way into your heart at his behest, slightly disgusted with yourself for how you defaulted to the desire to smooth the wrinkle from his brow, to cup his cheeks and kiss away the worry you saw behind his eyes. Even after everything, your first instinct -- your first desire -- was to nurture him. But you told yourself since the patch party that you would be resolute.
Even if on the inside your heart was frozen, but your resolve was melting.
“My books are full,” you repeated, holding up the datebook where you kept your schedule and making a show of flipping through the obviously-sparsely scheduled pages. “No room for you here.”
The line across Angel’s quizzical brow deepend, ochre eyes hardening into a slate frown. His upper lip curled slightly in annoyance, and as he caught his breath on the inhale, you could see him physically resist the urge to snap at you.
“A lotta white on those pages, querida,” he bit out, starting to lean forward in the direction of the counter, weight on the balls of his feet.
You closed the pages to your datebook primly, placing it on the counter and folding your hands over where the book rested.
“No sé a qué te refieres.” I don’t know what you mean. You gestured at the empty chair behind you. “Business is booming. Now, if you want something done, Olí has openings next week. Or I can have him call you if he has a cancellation. Other than that, I surely can’t help you,” you shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes.
You may have sounded tough -- cold and distant to your own ears, even. Angel may have been convinced. But you knew that if you looked him in the eye now, he would see the cracks in the already thin veneer that was your display of disinterest. Better to keep your head down, so to speak. Lest he see just how false your sense of bravado truly was.
“Frida …” Angel slowly reached across the counter, holding out an arm to touch yours.
You took a deliberate step back, just out of his arm’s reach, your eyes blazing now as he curled his fingers back and dropped his hand once more to his side. You shook your head.
“Am I speaking something you don’t? I already said I can’t help you." You pointed to the door, “That’s your cue to go. I have a client waiting.”
You'd had to hand it to yourself. Despite the depression-gymnastics your insides were doing, you were putting up a good front.
With that, you jabbed the finger pointing at the door, now over your shoulder at your empty chair.
You were nothing if not adamant. Angel supposed he’d deserved that. At the very least, he’d deserved that.
Angel exhaled, rolling his eyes a little at your unwillingness to engage with him, before holding his hands up in surrender, retreating.
Your heart was pounding in time with his steps to the exit. Were you really going to let him walk away -- keep walking away -- from you? Was he really going to say nothing else?
Angel gave you one last look before turning on his heel and making his way toward the exit of the shop.
You don’t know what possessed you to say it. Maybe your inner masochist wasn’t done playing “Operation” with your feelings -- perhaps it was the gnarling, twisting fear you felt at seeing him walk away again, and maybe this time for good. But, as Angel reached the door, you called out,
“If you want an appointment, you’d better call first. You know what they say about walk-ins. Always risky.”
Fuck. And you were doing so well.
Angel glanced over his shoulder at you, full brows raised in mild surprise at your flimsy olive branch, wrapped in reference to your first meeting. He nodded mildly to acknowledge he’d heard what you’d said, his shoulders shifting beneath his kutte as he pushed the door open and walked back out into the hazy heat.
Huh. Guess you had more to say to him, after all.
----
"¿Flores, Angelito? ¿Para mi?" You asked in mild surprise, a little giggle bubbling from your lips as you took in the man before you with his short-sleeved flannel beneath the kutte, his thick, ringed fingers clutched around the bunched stems of an impressive-looking bouquet.
The few dates you had been on with Angel at this point were all sweet. You’d never had much of a sweet tooth, but … there was a first time for everything. And Angel Reyes made you want to indulge.
He had texted you the night before, asking if you'd like to meet him at the park the next day for some coffee, and maybe a walk.
"A walk?" You'd teased. "So old-fashioned, Angelito. Will we be supervised on this walk?" You drummed your nails against your thigh while you awaited his response, the bubbles in the corner of your screen popping up to indicate Angel was answering.
"Not the first time I've been told I needed adult supervision. But I think you're up to the task," he'd answered. Followed by a "winking" emoji.
Before you could type a similarly-cheeky response, he was typing again. A double-text.
"No need to involve anyone else in our business."
You chuckled at that. You'd give Angel Reyes that one. He certainly was charming.
He'd met you as planned the next morning, proffering you the cluster of blooms. An unexpected gift.
"¡Que bonita!" You accepted the bouquet, admiring the starshine sprigs of queen Anne's lace that were nestled between the soft pink pastel peonies and crisp swaths of greenery. You stood, rocking up to your tiptoes to press a kiss to Angel's cheek. "Gracias, guapo."
As you dropped back onto your feet, you took in the mildly flustered expression on Angel's face, rewarding him with another light giggle.
"Yeah, well…" Angel scrubbed his hand along the back of his neck. He had a habit of that, you noted. Was he nervous? "Seemed right, right? Since I've got flowers from you, and all.." he trailed.
"I love them, Angel," you assured. "You didn't have to get me anything. I was just happy to have coffee with you."
On that note, you turned to the bench you had been waiting on, two cups of still-piping coffee in the little corrugated to-go carrier. You plucked one from its nest and handed it to Angel, popping the little plastic flip-top on the lip of the cup, blowing on it a tad to cool it, before handing it to Angel.
You’d done it so seamlessly, he wondered if you truly realized what you had done, a cute little gesture of caring that -- the more he thought about in hindsight, the more he realized -- were the kind of gestures that exemplified and embodied you. He couldn’t help but stare down from his height in admiration of you.
“I assume you take it black?” you chirped. “If not, I grabbed packets,” you gestured at the little four-cup carrier, packets of cream and sweetener stuffed into one of the empty holders.
He chuckled a bit at that, taking a small moment to admire you the moment you turned back toward the bench, your beauty in the late-morning sun as it streaked solar beams making your hair shine like a resplendent halo, the aura of it soft and reflective against the apples of your cheeks, ethereal.
He appreciatively noted your own tattoos, streaks of ink awash against your skin and flashing beneath the ridden-up sleeves of your hoodie as you reached forward to grab your own cup from the carrier.
You deposited the empty holder and packets into the trash, bringing your own cup to your lips and turning back toward Angel,
“Shall we?” You tilted your head toward the path encircling the park.
Angel took deep sips of his coffee, seemingly immune to the heat, and savoring the rich flavor as you walked by his side.
Asbestos mouth, you thought, amused with yourself and your thought at Angel’s ability to slug the piping hot liquid without even flinching.
For his part, Angel appreciated that you didn’t feel the need to compulsively fill the silence-- content to sip your respective “wake-up” cups, walking side-by-side and enjoying the sun’s tender, teasing warmth while basking in the other’s company.
Angel didn’t know what made him say it, but in this moment, with you looking so perfect as you did, it felt like the moment to share a little piece of himself,
“My mom used to bring me here when I was a kid, ya know?”
You looked up at him from beneath your lashes, not breaking your stride, “That’s sweet,” you acknowledged. “I can just imagine you and Ezekiel running her ragged while you play. Do you and she ever come back here together?"
Angel balked at your question. It struck him in moments like these, just how truly new you were to the self-contained corner of the universe that was Santo Padre, a vacuous and arid black hole that the rest of space and time forgot. It didn’t occur to him that there was anyone in town who didn’t know what had happened to Marisol Reyes.
He stopped walking, unsure how to answer your question. You caught on to the change in pace, turning to meet him where he stood.
“She, uh… she’s dead,” he said, softly and simply. He couldn’t deny the truth, and certainly didn’t see the point in being dishonest about it.
“Oh,” you breathed. “Shit, Angel, I-- I’m so sorry,” you quickly wrapped your arms around him, mindful not to spill your coffee on him as you brought your hands around his waist. “I didn’t -- I didn’t mean to ask … I didn’t know.”
At first, Angel’s body had stiffened when you made contact with his torso. But he quickly relaxed into the hug, tilting his chin down to rest atop your head, bringing one arm around to gently pat your back, to reassure you that your innocent question hadn’t done any harm.
“S'okay, querida, it happened a while ago. Like you said, you didn’t know.”
The two of you gently parted from your embrace, you leaning forward to run a reassuring hand over his bicep, genuine empathy emanating in the gesture.
“Well, this isn’t heavy at all,” as you withdrew from Angel, you hunched your shoulders at the mild discomfort you felt having brought up something painful for him. “Nothing like some light conversation on a casual coffee date,” you chuckled nervously.
Angel had the good grace to smile at that, his easy expression a gesture of mercy on your flip-flopping conscience.
“I mean,” you carried on, “I know you don’t know me all that well, but… if you ever want to talk, ever need anything, I’m here. I didn’t mean to dig at any old wounds,” you murmured, sincerely, but sheepishly.
“Really, querida, it’s OK,” he reassured. “I didn’t bring it up to be … depressing, or nothing... I have nothing but good memories with her here,” Angel took a long sip of his coffee, nodding at you slightly and resuming his previous pace.
He pointed over to the swings on the other side of the large lawn, “She used to push me and EZ. Would cheer for us when we got higher. And ... if Pop was working late, and we wanted to play, she’d grab his glove and bring it to play catch with us, even if the damn thing was too big for her hands,” Angel smiled as he looked over at the lawn. “She woulda liked you, you know?”
He nodded to himself in assurance at his own words, confident in his assessment of your character through the lens of his mother’s memory.
Your breath caught at that, taken with the compliment. You smiled gently when Angel turned to face you again.
“It would have been an honor to know her,” you said, sincerely. “Sounds like she was a wonderful woman.”
“She was,” Angel agreed, easily slipping his hand into yours as the two of you continued to walk, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “I just hope I never lose that. Never forget her.”
Angel’s words gave you pause, struck with your default instinct to nurture. You were no stranger to loss. Who was, really? Not wishing that pain upon anybody, you imparted wisdom that had, in turn, been impressed upon you in your own similarly-sad moments:
“You won’t,” you assured, taking your hand from his, trailing your fingers up his wrist and to his forearm, tracing your thumb over the sprig of rosemary you had etched into his skin a few weeks prior. “¿Por recuerdo, sí? For remembrance? You remember her in moments like these, where you share her with others. That’s not something you’ll lose, Angelito. Because she lives on in you. And your brother.”
Angel was silent for a moment.
Worried you had somehow overstepped -- when weren’t you feeling that way with Angel? Could you ever just mind your own business without spilling clichés like some kind of poetic dimestore vending machine, or a stale-ass fortune cookie? He hadn’t asked for you to --
But Angel hadn’t said anything to put you down. As a matter of fact, he was just standing there… looking at you with that face again. What did that face mean?
Angel regarded you with a peachy-hued gaze of adoration, your words stirring something in him. But when weren’t they? Would everything you said always make him feel this way? He had learned from the day you’d met, and your first date, that you were thoughtful. Generous with your thoughts and your empathy. Willing to give to others, but reserved with your own heart.
And as he held your gaze, he was lightning-struck with the desire to make you feel safe enough to share your everything with him; wanted to kiss your pretty mouth and share every story from his life with you. Wanted to leech any pain from your pretty bones and replace it with the security of his affection.
The thought might have scared him, if he had given them a second longer in that moment. Never before had he truly desired to share these things with another.
You were dangerous that way, Angel decided. A real sleeper hit.
He tilted his head down, bringing his free hand to gently graze the high part of your waist with his fingertips, pressing his lips softly to yours.
Every kiss with Angel was a novel experience, a lesson buried in a newly-cracked book you couldn't wait to turn every page of. He kissed fully, sweetly. At times, he kissed like the languid, steady pour of warm, thick syrup over waffles, overwhelming your every pore. Other times, he kissed like a bonfire -- passionate, smoky, hazy and stuttering in its fervor to reach the height of its burn.
Now, he kissed you like honey, spliced with a crisp zing of orange zest, all sweetness and light. His hand on your waist a grounding reminder of your place on this earth beside him. But the longer you tasted it -- the heavier it became, filling you with a rush of sugary affectations, awash with your desire.
You break the kiss to cut the cloying taste, just as much as you'd needed air.
Angel’s gaze upon you as you broke apart was heavy-lidded and weighted with some emotion you couldn’t (or wouldn’t dare, just yet) to name… his full lips dragged into a low, lazy smirk, watching as you giggled lightly, nervously.
“So …” you trailed, making a vague gesture toward your stomach. “The butterflies. Not just a first date thing with you. Good to know,” you nodded, more to yourself than to him.
A genuine little barking laugh escaped Angel’s lips at that, his amusement and rush of adoration for you compelling him to bend down once more and press a soft kiss to the side of your head.
“You are something, Frida.”
The two of you resumed your walk, you teasingly bumped your hips into Angel’s as you spoke again,
“Since we’re sharing about when we were kids -- I always wanted to be a dancer, you know? My dad used to take me to classes. But I was… fucking awful,” you giggled. “I was better with my hands than on my feet.”
"I'm sure you are," Angel snickered, quicker than you were...
Your eyes widened when you realized what you’d said,
“I -- not like that. You know damn well what I mean,” you made a vague gesture in the air like you were holding a pen and sketching. "You know I'm good with my hands. I freehanded that, didn't I?"
You nodded toward Angel’s arm once more.
“Sí, sí, you’re Frida, after all,” Angel decided not to make a joke at your accidental double-entendre. “It's your hand, but it's also your eye. Your spirit.”
And if Angel was more honest with himself -- and with you -- in that moment, he could have gone on -- “And in your heart, something inscrutable.” Not that he was one for too much, too soon with any woman.
"--But I'm sure you can dance Frida," Angel continued, gently knocking your shoulder with his own as the two of you continued to walk.
"And how would you know that?" You teased. "I'm only left feet." As if to demonstrate your own self-deprecating point, you swung one foot behind yourself in a reverse-kick as you walked, an attempt to softly, jokingly kick Angel’s behind. But you’d woefully miscalculated the height differential between the two of you, your leg not extending high enough to reach its target, causing you to stumble and pitch off-balance.
Angel scooped you in one arm before you could even begin to fall.
“Already tryna kick my ass? Damn, mama, I try to compliment you and this is what I get?”
Angel’s arm was warm around your waist, the result of his successful rescue to keep you from falling. Maybe you were glad with the stunt you’d pulled, if it resulted in him scooping you into his arms like something out of an old movie.
“Yeah, well I may not be able to kick your ass now. But give me time,” your voice had taken on a breathy quality, overwhelmed by Angel’s proximity to you. “But I did tell you I couldn't dance.”
“Whatever that was aside,” Angel shrugged before replying, as simply and matter-of-factly as though he was telling you the sky was blue, “I know you’d be a hell of a dancer.” He gazed down at where you were held against him before continuing,
"How could something about you not be beautiful?"
---
Now, you were squirming in your seat as you sat in one of your favorite restaurants in town, the familiar ambience not enough to assuage your nerves. Not only were you unused to the feeling of the summer dress and heeled wedges you had donned for the first time in your post-Angel months, you were similarly unused to the company.
Even if the man across from you had been the perfect gentleman thus far.
Christopher was suave, sleek in his black button-up and expensive-looking dress pants, tattoo peeking from the buttoned collar of his shirt, adorning his throat in a way you found regal. He was far too overdressed for this mid-level, casual dining. But you figured that on the first few dates, you should keep it light. A cup of coffee here, a quick lunch at a food truck there.
The two of you had met when you were perusing your options, mulling over your selection of the perfect avocado at the supermarket. You didn’t see the man on the other side of the display, reaching for the same fruit as you, and you brushed hands. The two of you chuckled and made light conversation, and then went on your merry errand-running ways. Perhaps it would have ended there if you didn’t see him two days later at the bookstore.
At that point, you had to say something. You took note of the novel in his hands, and by the end of the encounter, he had smoothly asked you to coffee on your next day off. You had liked his firm handshake when he had introduced himself, and the warmth behind his eyes. His smooth voice that sounded like a crime, too suave and beautiful to be legal.
Had the whole thing been a little rom-com for your taste? Sure.
Were you a little afraid to get out there again after the absolute shitshow the last few months had been? No shit, Sherlock.
Were you keenly aware of the way Christopher’s dark eyes danced with mischief the same way Angel’s did? That he had the same keeled, low-pitch to his voice?
Fuck that. You weren’t going to shoot yourself (and someone else) in the foot because you were too busy lugging around heavy, distinctly Angel-shaped baggage. You resolved to give Chistopher an actual chance.
And this was the first time you had sat down indoors together for a prolonged period. The first date-date.
To say Aneesa was ecstatic when you told her about your plans with Christopher would be an understatement.
“Girl, you know he’s gonna treat you. That man is smooth as hell, darling,” she called from the depths of your closet, mocking Christopher’s deep voice that you had relayed to her in your recap of the encounter, while she tossed out dress after dress in her mission to dress you in what she dubbed “the date ‘fit to end all date ‘fits.”
She had outdone herself. You felt gorgeous.
And while there were no homemade sandwiches, and your favorite worn jeans were tucked away at home, you had to admit that Christopher was doing one hell of a job at making you feel wooed. And maybe Aneesa was right when she said that maybe “new” was a good thing.
You and Christopher had laughed your way through dinner. He didn’t talk much about his work, but was very interested in hearing about your job, and seeing photos of finished pieces from your ‘gram.
“Damn, mama, you drew that?” He asked appreciatively. “You got an eye for the beautiful things.”
You felt heat rush through your cheeks and down across your collarbones at his words, preening beneath his smoky praises.
"Well, I'm out with you, aren't I?" You flirted back gently, smiling into your glass of wine.
The easy smirk Christopher rewarded you with was swoon-worthy to say the least.
Who was she? You were impressed with yourself. Gone was the fumbling girl rife with awkward, unintentional double entendre that you were with Angel. This Frida was a smooth motherfucker, making a man like Chris smile.
He, in turn, showed you photos of his son, beaming with pride while he talked about his son’s winning science fair project.
He had confided in you that, normally, talk of a kid on the first date could be a deal-breaker.
“But you seem like the kinda woman who ain’t afraid of an up-front man,” he had said.
If he only knew.
As the date was winding down, Christopher gave you a kiss on the cheek as he departed the table to use the restroom while awaiting the check.
You smiled to yourself, using the moment alone to glance down at your phone, basking in the champagne-warm, fizzy feeling of a date gone well. Of mutual attraction and reciprocal attention. When you looked up and out of the glass doors of the restaurant you saw him. The champagne feeling gone, dousing you like ice-water; as quickly and sharply as it had come, it was gone.
And he saw you, too.
Oh fuck.
Through the glass, Angel appraised your sundress, your makeup, your styled hair. You saw the decision on his face the moment it was made.
He fucking wouldn’t.
Oh, but he fucking would. Ever one to place his heart before his own head, Angel reached for the handle, entering the restaurant and making a beeline for you, past the hostess stand. Until his biker boots carried him to your table, where he noted the napkin tossed on Christopher’s side of the table, the companion chair slightly pulled back.
He glanced at the empty plates on the table before raking his eyes up your crossed legs beneath the table, and up to yours, taking in the blaze resonant in your gaze.
Fuck, you were hot when you were mad.
Not giving him a chance to speak, you piped up first, voice hard and laced with boxcutter edges and vinegar,
“You need to leave, Angel,” you seethed.
It was apparent to Angel, even in his slightly-tipsy haze (you hadn’t caught onto his mild impairment, thank God) just what you were trying to get him away from. You were on a date. And it wasn’t beneath Angel, he would admit, to make you sweat a little. Especially after you had brushed him off a few days ago in the tattoo parlour. Petty as fuck, and he knew it. Coco would certainly have told him so.
He pulled Christopher’s chair back even further from the table, lowering himself and spreading his legs out comfortably, leaning back in his chair, head tilted back obnoxiously to appraise you further.
“You look good, dulce. What’s got you so dressed up and out and about on a Friday night?” He lilted his voice in a crudely teasing way, like he was mocking you for making yourself feel pretty.
You would not let him have this one, too. Not after the shitshow of a patch party. Isn’t it funny how you could barely bring yourselves to look the other in the eyes then? Too afraid to broach feelings, content to instead skate around them with all the grace of Bambi on ice. But this town was too small for you to hide from him for the rest of your life. And you were well-past sheepish aches and pains and trying to spare Angel's feelings; no, you were on the road to well and truly pissed.
The pulse and magnetism between you and Angel was always strong, a source of perpetual warmth for you. But it was you he had left behind, in the whispering grip of a ghost. And you? You refused to be that girl on the clubhouse porch forever.
Now, your blazing eyes met his slightly-glazed, blasé ones.
Was he … drunk?
Fuck this.
“I’m not gonna tell you again, Angel,” you warned. “That isn’t your chair. You can go.”
“‘You can go,'" Angel mimicked your words, echoing what you had said to him just now, and of when he dropped by your shop. He giggled. “Bit of a broken record, Frida. Maybe I’m just here to get dinner?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, tired of Angel’s games, and thinking that Christopher was likely due to return at any moment.
“Then get your food. If that’s what you're here for, it has nothing to do with me. No reason for you to sit here.”
Your usually patient nature was fading fast, the ice Angel had bestowed you with in his departure hardening your demeanor into someone he barely recognized. If he had been more himself, maybe that would have been cause for distress. But he was in petty, childish, drunk-Angel mode. The Angel his brother had often chastised him for being. The Angel his brother had laid into him for being after his behavior at the patch party, leaving you to the proverbial wolves while Andres had insulted you. The Angel who was hurt. Who tended to lash out.
That Angel ever-so-delicately chose to ignore your just-left-of-polite plea for him to leave.
“So, you dressin’ up for dinner with Aneesa? Or … wait… is this a date, amor? You dating? Maybe I’m just tryna to talk to you?”
A cool hand met your shoulder, a protective arm sweeping over you from behind where you sat. Christopher had reappeared, standing protectively over the back of your chair.
“And if it is?” Christopher’s voice was smooth, even and deadly-cool in a way that made you shudder a little.
This was all getting a little “West Side Story” for you. And you had to break it up before something worse could happen. You would not let Angel ruin the first date you had been on since him. Let alone the first decent date.
“It’s OK, Christopher. Angel was just leaving,” you nodded at him in what you’d hoped was a reassuring manner. For his part, Christopher didn’t flinch at Angel’s antics, and didn’t remove his arm from the back of your chair.
“C’mon, Frida. I told you, I just wanted to talk. You can’t give me a few minutes?” Angel’s voice had lost its teasing demeanor, bald and glaring.
You glanced between Angel and Christopher, now thoroughly uncomfortable with the trajectory this night had taken. If Aneesa ever asked, this would be one of the top reasons you’d choose not to date in a small town. Who's dick didn't you step on when you left your house?
You opened your mouth to answer, to politely brush Angel off and resume your date with Christopher, when Christopher surprised you by speaking first.
“Do you want to talk to him, mama?” Christopher’s arm was still resting reassuringly on your shoulder. You glanced between the two again, unsure of what to say.
Your pause seemed to be enough for Christopher, taking in the raw emotion behind your eyes as you looked at the slick, kutte-wearing man that was in his seat. Your hesitation and apparent emotion filling in the gaps about just who this person must be to you.
“Tell you what, darling,” Christopher said, sharp eyes never leaving Angel’s as he spoke to you, “I gotta take a quick call,” Christopher gestured to the sidewalk beyond the glass doors. “I’ll be right out there, give you a few minutes. But if he doesn't leave when you want him to,” he looked directly in Angel’s eyes now, “I’ll be back. I owe you dessert, anyway.”
You swallowed heavily at Christopher’s words, a kind of sick relief washing over you as you nodded. Was he just that understanding? The demeanour around him had an air of what you would describe as … deadly. While his words were a balm to you, they were clearly a threat to Angel. But maybe that was just you being too dramatic. He was a smooth-talker, is all.
Christopher took your nod as acquiescence to his compromise, pecking a quick, light kiss to your cheek and striding casually toward the door. The absence of his warm arm now rendering you unpleasantly naked beneath Angel’s gaze.
“Weeeeeell,” Angel drawled, turning to look over his shoulder, eyes following Christopher as he strode just to the other side of the glass. “That’s who you’re going out with? He. Seems. Nice. Cheerful, too. You sure know how to pick ‘em, querida.”
“Is that really a joke you wanna be making, Angelito?” You sneered. “What the fuck do you want?”
“I told you,” Angel said lightly. “To talk.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples, carelessly dropping the napkin that had been resting on your lap on the table, a not-so-subtle white flag. You looked pointedly at Angel, urging him to continue.
“I meant what I said at the party,” Angel started.
Strike one, Angelito. Mentioning the party was not the way to go.
“Which part did you mean?” You asked, voice taking on a tinge of faux-sweetness. “The part where your hand practically up some girl’s ass the entire night? Or the part where you let that guy shit-talk my work? Or maybe it was the part where after all that, you cornered me with nobody around to tell me you loved me?”
Angel flinched.
“I deserve that,” he said.
Strike two. Too little, too late.
“You deserve more than that, Angel,” you chastised. “And now you’re still trying to take from me. Date-crashing? You tryna fuck this up for me, too? Haven’t you done enough fucking? So, what is it about me that says you can walk all over me? Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?”
Shit. You’d said it at the party, and you were telling yourself again now -- you would not cry in front of Angel. So, why were there hot little slivers poking the corners of your eyes? Your heart felt heavy, sick. It was getting to be a familiar sensation -- like a friend who showed up to crash at the worst possible time.
The appearance of your tears was sobering to Angel. He reached toward your side of the table in an attempt to brush your hand, to offer you some kind of comfort, even though he was the one you wanted to be comforted from.
“No, Angel,” you wiped your cheeks and placed your hands in your lap, out of his reach. “Why aren’t you listening to me? You tell me. How much more could you possibly take from me? There's nothing left,” you shuddered, sucking uneven air between your teeth before gesturing at his state. “I don’t care if you’re drunk, I don’t care if you’re broken. You can’t just walk in here like nothing, trying to tell me the same shit that didn’t land the first time. To what? To give you my heart back when y-you broke it -- broke me -- first? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
Angel was stunned. But, as is the default, Angel deflected. His genuine remorse at your words buried beneath his childish need to lash out, like a child buries toys in a sandbox to spite the friend he won’t share with.
“That's why you're out with that … What was his name? Chad? Tim? Awfully shiny duds that dude had on,” Angel continued, “He's so… not me."
Strike. Fucking. Three.
"Possibly one of his best qualities," you snipped, venomously. “But this isn’t about him, and don’t act like it is. You keep trying this thing where you just want me to hear your broken record bullshit about how you want me back, how you wanna talk. But then you don’t say any shit of substance And you certainly don’t hear a goddamn word I say back to you. That tells me you aren’t really ready to talk. And you don’t give a shit if I’m ready, either,” you bit. “I tried, Angel. To tell you a little bit of what I’m feeling? You don’t wanna hear it. You just want me to hear you -- even if you say nothing.”
A little flurry of movement caught the corner of your eye, turning your head to see the waiter hovering awkwardly, clearly confused that the man sitting across from you was not the man he had seen you with all evening.
You pushed back from your seat, standing and beckoning for the waiter to come over.
"He's got the check," you gestured at Angel.
You patted Angel’s leather-clad shoulder as you walked past him, toward the door. “Thanks, amor. Real classy of you, paying for a girl’s date, and all.”
Ice cold.
You walked out of the restaurant as Christopher hung up his phone, turning to see the door swinging shut behind you, and you walking toward him. His sharp brow arched questioningly at your sudden appearance, opening his mouth to ask about the bill.
“It’s taken care of,” you breezed before he could ask, “Let’s go. You said something about ice cream?” You looped your arm through his as the two of you made your way down the block.
Inside the restaurant, Angel’s phone buzzed with a text from Coco asking him where the fuck he was, and what the fuck he was doing.
But his mind was swimming. The verbal truths you’d laid into him wriggling beneath his skin to take residence in the part of his brain that kept him up at night.
He looked down at his texts again. He honestly didn’t know how to answer.
---
Then, after a bad night, there was nothing more you wanted than to see Angel, his presence always a balm to your frazzled nerves. His easy, (at times) childlike demeanor was refreshing, and brought a light into your day that you now realized had been long missing before you had moved down here.
You were sitting on the couch in your living room, feet up on your coffee table, wearing your favorite joggers and oversized tee, the epitome of comfort.
You had a crappy reality TV show on in the background while you tilted your head back, sheetmask on, the cooling gel seeping into your pores. Cleansing your face and your soul.
You had texted Angel to come over. After this shit-show of a day, you could use the company. You understood it was late. You understood he may not be able to come over right away -- club shit. And wasn’t there always?
“Hasta pronto, Frida,” his last text had read. See you soon.
That was over 45 minutes ago. You were antsy. You’d had a long day. Some dude at a consultation had rubbed you the wrong way -- the two of you not communicating your respective ideas together well. The idea that your artist’s brain couldn’t match his vision to deliver something itched at you, wrinkled your brain. You’d had no choice but to refer him to Oli. On top of that, he’d been leery with you.
Your hands were tired, the fine bones in your fingers aching. And you sure as shit didn’t want to answer any more emails or DMs. You just wanted to lie here, sheetmask on. Unbothered. Your boyfriend’s presence would be a bonus, but he was late.
Somewhere between your next episode of “90 Day Fiancee” and your umpteenth sigh, you heard it -- the telltale rumble of Angel’s bike making its way down your otherwise quiet street.
At the gentle rap on your door, you solidified your puddle of comfortable bones long enough to slip off of your couch and make your way down the hall, unlatching it and opening the door, only to be greeted with the rapidly-horrified face of your boyfriend.
“Jesus fuck!” Angel yelped.
Your body jolted at the shock of his shout, hand coming to your chest.
“Sorry, Frida, didn’t mean to scare you, but…” he gestured at your face. “What the fuck is that?”
Oh.
You brought your hand up to where the silvery-grey sheetmask was still resting atop your skin. You sighed, peeling the mask from your face slowly, revealing your dewy skin beneath.
“Sorry about that,” you chuckled, your heartbeat returning to normal.
You turned and made your way back down the hall, beckoning for Angel to follow, which he did, shutting the door of your place behind him.
“Sorry about that,” you called over your shoulder as you tossed the mask in the trash beneath your sink. “I kinda forgot it was there.”
“Not for nothing, Frida, but that’s a hell of a home defense system.”
At the question in your eyes, Angel continued, kicking his boots off and shuffling his way into your living room.
“If any serial killer ever shows up to fuck with you? All you gotta do is answer the door like that. He’ll think another murderer is already here,” at that he sucked air thorugh his teeth like Hannibal Lecter. “Hellooooo, Clarice,” he mimicked, laughing at his own joke and popping the button on his jeans to make himself comfortable as he slouched on the couch.
“Bien,” you agreed, between a flurry of giggles. “Too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that. Brilliant, Angelito.”
You popped open your freezer to grab your jade roller, subsequently grabbing Angel a beer from the fridge.
“Sorry I’m late,” Angel called from the other room. “Club shit ran long. Plus, you sounded kinda down when you messaged me. So I had to make a stop.”
You peeked into the living room in time to see Angel pull a crinkling plastic bag of mini peanut butter cups from the deep pocket of his kutte, plopping the bag onto the coffee table. “I come bearing gifts.”
You smiled to yourself in the kitchen, pleased as punch with Angel’s thoughtful gesture. You popped the cap on Angel’s beer, turning to bring the drink to him, simultaneously rolling the jade over your face in your other hand.
“Gracias, amor,” he accepted the beer from you. “What’s this now?” He beckoned at the roller in your hands.
“It’s to help rub the product from the mask into my skin, plus it’s nice and cold -- keeps my face from getting puffy,” you explained.
“I don’t understand why you females think you need alla that shit,” he said, taking a sip of your beer, turning his attention to your TV. Not that he would ever admit it, but he was following along the trainwreck of season six of “90 Day Fiancee” with you. Had his own couples he loved to hate.
“We females,” you emphasized, “just aren’t afraid to prioritize self care, unlike you big, bad bikers. Seriously, Angelito, when was the last time you washed your face with something other than hand soap, or --” you gave an exaggerated shudder to drive home your point, “that shitty 16-in-one body wash/engine oil I know you keep in your shower.”
Angel gave your shoulder a teasing little shove, ”Man, shut up. I bring you chocolate, and this is how you treat me?”
Flirtation and sexual chemistry come easy to Angel. He was always blessed with an easy social grace, and women seemed to eat up the flirtatious attention. But anything more serious, and he becomes a blushing little boy, all shuffling feet, nervous smiles and awkward stuttering. There was some of that with you, he wouldn’t lie. But with you? Everything had a way of feeling so natural.
“Oh, gracias, beautiful, generous, benevolent Angelito, god among men,” your voice was dramatic, teasing, you mocked bowing to him.
“Okay, that’s enough outta you,” you grabbed your wrist, tugging you into his lap, tracing tickling fingers up your sides, causing you to writhe, shrieking through chiming laughter.
Angel’s beer long-abandoned on the coffee table, your jade roller now dropped somewhere on the floor, you gazed into Angel’s face from your place reclining across his lap, chest heaving with the exertion of being tickled and laughing too much.
For his part, Angel was looking down at you, brow softened in fondness for the woman before him, lightly trailing his hand along your cheeks.
No one was laughing now, and the noise of the TV became an unimportant, staticky hum somewhere in the background to the moment you and Angel found yourselves in.
You don’t know how you ended up beneath Angel on your couch. You were even less certain just when the two of you had absconded with your clothes.
All you knew was that the heavy drag of him inside of you was resplendent, beyond words. Was it always like this with him?
And you? You were a brazen little thing, all gasping moans and dragging fingernails, urging Angel on with pleas and fluttering lashes. Your dedication to marking Angel’s back was admirable, and it’s not like he could honestly say he minded. He’d bear the battlescars of a night with you for eternity, if he could.
As Angel thrust into you, all you could think about -- beyond the heated urgency of the way he was making you feel, was that he was perfect.
The two of you basked in the after, awash in the blue-white glow of the TV screen still playing before you, skin now slightly sweaty and glistening in its own right, catching your breath together. The synchronicity of it all … music to you.
You were both unfocused in your respective gaze’s on the television, just content to lie next to one another. Angel was stretched out on the couch behind you, unwrapping peanut butter cups, handing them to you piece by piece. This last one, he had pressed directly to your lips, which you had wrapped around the tips of his fingers, tongue following, as you accepted the candy.
“Don’t start, Frida. I don’t know that I have the strength,” Angel said, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
“Just once more, Angelito? You know I’ve had a hard day,” you hmm’d.
“Evil woman,” he chuckled, reaching for you again.
“You love it,” you gasped at the feeling of his fingers making their way once more to your center.
“Yeah,” he rasped, eyes trained on your face as he played your body. “I fuckin’ do.”
Somewhere between rounds two and three, you had managed to talk Angel into wearing a face mask of his own, promising that he would “feel so much better for it.”
He had acquiesced, of course, never able to tell you no. But made you promise under pain of death that you would never reveal that he had done something so girly to any one of his brothers.
You had agreed, but taken out your phone to snap a quick pic. Angel shirtless, tattoos illuminated against his skin in the ambient lighting of your living room, with a sheet mask on his face was too good not to capture.
“I swear, Frida,” he began, mock-threateningly, “If that ends up on the ‘gram…”
You shook your head.
“Don’t worry, Angelito. This one’s just for me. And… maybe for Coco, if I’ve had enough tequila.”
So, the butterflies… Always gonna be there with you, huh?
---
A few days after your date, Coco had texted you.
“Leti needs a ride to work on Tuesday, and I have a yard shift. I hate to ask, but can you take her?”
“Sure,” you’d agreed. Following up with another message, “Do I pick her up from your place?”
“She’s coming with me to the yard. She likes to hang in the office with Chucky,” he’d responded.
Well, shit.
If you’d known that this favor had come with the condition that you return to the yard -- to anywhere within the vicinity of that god-forsaken clubhouse, you probably would have refused. But you knew Coco was struggling to balance his club life with his relationship with his daughter. And you liked Leti.
“You got it,” you responded. Cringing to yourself at just how you were going to pull this off and get out of there without anyone else talking to you. But texting Coco back to ask who else was on the yard shift with him would be too obvious. And kinda rude. He knew who you were hoping to avoid.
Not much got past Johnny “Coco” Cruz.
So, Tuesday afternoon found you rolling over to the yard, hoping to swoop Leti and make a quick getaway.
Luck, like time, was a bitch of a woman. And never seemed to be on your side in the keen moments you’d hoped she would be. Because as you pulled your car into the dusty lot abutting the scrapyard, who do you see?
Coco, in his snapback and yard uniform, was laboring with a large piece of metal. Ezekiel appeared to be fluttering in and out of the clubhouse, the clinking of glasses from inside reaching your ears when the door opened.
Angel and … of fucking course … Andres were across the yard from Coco, standing over a junker and exchanging words.
You sighed, rolling your shoulders and steeling yourself for whatever this was about to be as you got out of your car.
The sound of your door opening and shutting was enough to draw nearly every eye in the yard to you, Angel freezing in his spot from the other side of the lot
As you began to stride over to where Coco was standing, EZ bound down from the clubhouse steps, intercepting you and greeting you with a warm hug. You smiled easily at the younger Reyes brother, holding your hand up to your eyes to shade your face as you looked up at his smiling face, him already talking to you a mile-a-minute.
From across the yard, Angel observed the interaction. After you’d met the club initially, and met EZ, Angel was content to say that he could appreciate how well you got along with everyone. How well-liked you were by each of the men, especially his brother.
You two discussed literature, art, and liked to talk shit to each other, friendship in its purest form. Somewhere between Faust and the floodgates, Angel had watched on as you spilled over in your excitement speaking to EZ. Faust and Proust. Did Angel know what -- or was it who?? -- the fuck a "Faust" was? No. But he'd drown himself in literary references that already made him feel over his head if it meant he got to sit back and just take in how well you'd gelled with his family, with Ezekiel. In another life he supposed he'd be jealous that you had so much in common with his brother. But you didn't look at Ezekiel the way you looked at him.
Even Angel could see it. And if he couldn’t, Coco was quick to remind him.
“She only got eyes for you, mano,” Coco had told him, quietly, resolutely.
EZ had left you now, gone back to the clubhouse for something. As you made your way to Coco, hugging him in spite of his obvious hesitance.
Angel heard him protest against your attentions -- “I’m covered in grease, ma.”
You’d hugged him anyway. He’d melted into your embrace, smiling softly. Angel had confided to Coco that he had seen you a few days ago on a date. Coco’s eyes had clouded over with something as Angel spoke, but passed through his features quickly, like a summer storm, before clearing. Resuming listening to Angel. The conversation… hadn’t gone well.
“Back again, huh?” Andres had said from Angel’s side, gesturing lightly to where you stood with Coco. He nudged Angel’s side. “You taking another crack at that?”
Angel ignored his question.
“I think she’s here to pick up Coco’s kid,” he said simply, turning his attention back to the junker. Choosing to stay out of the situation, as Andres had left the car and was now striding across the lot to you.
“No hug for me, jaina?”
You’d frozen in place at the voice behind you, Coco’s quicksilver eyes darting to over your shoulder, where Andres now stood, narrowing at the man’s question.
You recovered quickly.
“Sorry,” you breezed, turning to face Andres. Noting the way his panther tattoo peeked out from the tank the man was wearing. You would never say you hated any piece you did, per se. But you weren’t about to post this one, wanting no association with it, or the man who bore it. Even if it was perfectly fine work. “Coco really was covered in grease. It’s pretty gross. I think I’m good,” you diverted, nudging Coco’s ribs and smiling to ease the tension.
Andres shrugged, the blow to his pride obvious in the way his face twisted and his eyes narrowed at how closely you stood to the lithe ex-military man next to you.
Coco eased through the conversation, patting your arm comfortingly, his eyes finding yours as he spoke, “I’mma go get Leti, OK? I’ll be right back.”
You were a little distraught at the idea that Coco would leave you with this man, knowing how he had spoken to you before. But you supposed if he could hurry this interaction along and go get his daughter, it might not be so bad.
“So,” you turned, schooling your facial features into a mask of cool indifference as you faced Andres, who was now addressing you. “We didn’t get to finish what we started the other night,” was all he said.
“Didn’t we?” You asked, tilting your head, nodding toward Andres’s tattoo. “I think we finished. It healed nicely.”
Andres rolled his eyes a little at you, as though you were slow.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He took a step toward you.
Was this guy for real? Was he not getting it, or did he just not care?
You took a step in kind back from Andres, your anger flaring. “So what did you mean?” you asked. “You mean the bit before I gave you free ink, where you insulted my work? Or the bit after I gave you free ink, where you just insulted me?”
You could see the faint twitch in Andres’s face as you called him out. His patience clearly wearing thin. A man not used to hearing no when it was told to him.
“That’s what I always liked about you,” he gritted out, smiling fakely, “you got that reaaaal fiery attitude. Not just any guy would put up with it,” he said, as though he was trying to give you advice.
“I dunno what you mean by ‘always,’” you said, politely, your own fake smile screwed into place. “If you excuse me, I’m gonna go find Leti.”
As you made to leave, Andres lunged forward, gripping your wrist.
"You really don't remember me?" Andres pressed, "C'mon, chiquita, don't be like that."
"I really don't," you snipped, whipping your wrist out of his grip. You were a little shorter with him than you usually were with people, even in your more frustrated moments. But he really was pissing you off. "Sorry if that's a blow to the ego, or whatever, but I didn't really make it a habit of looking at other guys when I was with someone else."
Andres snorted, tone no longer teasing, eyes dark and flat. You turned to face him again at the undignified sound he had made, noting his cool, angry features.
"If only that 'someone else' had shown you the same courtesy," he snarled, swatting at your wrist now instead of reaching for it.
"Hey, man, leave her the fuck alone." You turned to see EZ and Coco striding across the yard with Leti in tow, making their way toward you. Out of the corner of your eye, Angel was also making his way over, shoulders tense.
EZ turned to you, taking in your crestfallen expression and the way you were suddenly very interested in your shoes.
"You okay, hermanita?" EZ asked, large hand gentle on your shoulder.
You nodded, sheepishly. Hating the way you seemed so small in that moment. This man was nothing, to you, or otherwise. And he’d managed to make you feel like you were nothing, too.
You tried to find your voice again as you spoke, quiet at first, “Andres was just apologizing to me for the way he was rude at the patch party,” you turned to look at him, your eyes blazing now, “weren’t you?”
Coco snorted.
Andres narrowed his eyes, glaring at Coco, who held up his hands as if to say, “what can ya do?”
“Best apologize,” Coco rasped, now pulling on a cigarette that seemed to have materialized from nowhere. “One does not fuck with Frida,” Coco exhaled. “Unwise, mano.” He gestured to you, “She’s got that scary tia energy.”
EZ’s hand was still resting protectively on your shoulder as you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for Andres’s apology, now that you’d put him on the spot in front of his brother. Angel watched the entire exchange like a snake coiled to strike.
He knew he had fucked up by not saying shit as Andres dug at you at the patch party. It had been roiling beneath his skin, his blood bubbling and waiting to burst forth. Waiting for a chance to put the fucker in his place.
“Yeah,” Andres gritted through his teeth, fake smile ready to crack at any moment. “Sorry about that. Too much to drink, and all.” His voice was flat. Devoid of any real remorse, as you knew it would be.
“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “I hope you enjoy the ink. It’s the last you’ll be getting from me.”
Andres’s eye twitched before the dam broke on his childish rage, “Why you gotta be such a fuckin’ bitch? No wonder Angel fucked around on you -- that smart-ass mouth is gonna get you slapped.”
He made to step toward you again, EZ and Coco stood before you, protectively, blocking you from Andres’s approach.
But Andres could reach you, Angel had gripped his shoulder, turning him around and landing a punch square to his jaw.
“Man, what the fuck,” Andres swore, spitting a wad of blood at the toe of Angel’s boot. “What the fuck did you hit me for?”
Angel cracked his knuckles, shaking his wrist and his hand out from the impact of his hit to Andres’s face, readying himself to strike again if he needed to.
“You don’t fuckin’ talk about her like that,” he squared up, shoving Andres in the shoulder. “Listen to me, new patch. I’ll explain the rules -- you don’t look at her. You don’t talk about her. You don’t even think about her.”
Angel’s shoulders were heaving as he worked himself up more, stalking toward Andres, like a jungle cat, coiled muscle beneath his skin ready to unleash.
“Nod so I know you understand,” he bellowed in Andres’s direction, pointing a thick finger accusingly into his face, rewarded with Andres's curt nod.
EZ gently removed himself from your side, coming to grab Angel and whisper into his ear, calming him.
“Hey, man,” EZ reasoned, “Now’s not the time. You guys can settle this later. Cage.”
Angel nodded, breathing heavily through his nostrils and willing himself to calm down as he turned to you, locking eyes with you again, only to be met with an imperceptible look on your face. Had he fucked this up even further now? You had never looked at him like that.
You shook your head, breaking the moment and stepping from behind Coco to go meet Leti where she was standing a comfortable distance away from the whole scene.
“We gotta go,” you said, hurriedly grabbing Leti’s hand and marching off toward your car with the girl in tow.
You buckled yourselves in and drove away from the lot in a cloud of dust. Hoping you could just leave it all behind. The further you got from the gates, the easier you could breathe. You drove in silence, as Leti watched you, assessing. Before she broke the silence.
"We all miss you, you know," Leti said, softly, from her place in the passenger seat. "Just because Angel let you go doesn't mean we wanted to lose you, too. And fuck Andres. He’s a fuckin’ clown."
Leti's words were a wave of molten-hot guilt washing over you, burning your synapses and hardening over any residual anger and sadness you'd felt over the confrontation that had just happened. You knew some of what Leti had been through. How she, so like yourself, was reticent to form bonds with new people. How she'd routinely felt abandoned by those she let herself care about -- and you felt you'd now done the same.
"I'm so sorry, Leti," you implored, looking into the girl’s doe eyes, flecked with amber-gold and layered with wisdom and emotion. Her gaze heavy and so like her father’s. Nothing slipped past them. "I never meant to hurt you, to leave you."
"I-it's just … I miss you, is all," she murmured, twisting her long hair around her finger. "I know EZ misses you. He talks about you all the time. And … and my dad, too. Coco doesn't talk about it alot, but I think that says more than if he tried to put it in words. I know for a fact he misses you. Was pretty pissy with Angel for a while after everything went down."
You smiled gently, leaning forward across the console to give Leti a soft hug.
“I really am sorry, Leti. I promise I’ll be around more,” you broke the hug, rubbing her arm as you pulled away. “You and Coco are welcome to come over for dinner anytime. I’ll cook for you. Just tell Coco no smoking in the house, cierto? And don’t tell Coco I said so, but you can come hang with me in the shop, if you want. Been slow lately. You can come do homework someplace quiet..”
She chuckled lightly, nodding and promising to text you about coffee plans as she got out of the car.
You mulled over Leti’s words as you drove away. Maybe cutting everyone other than Aneesa out flatly wasn't the way to go. It's possible you had made a mistake there, though it's not like Leti hadn't confirmed that she understood why you did what you did. And it's not like other people wouldn't have done the same in your shoes. Even still, perhaps re-cracking open the "Angel" chapter of your life had its benefits, if only to once more let in the friends you had made along the way.
Your departing words to Leti ringing in your ears long after you’d parked at home,
"I'll reach out to the guys more, too," you confirmed. "I didn't mean to leave everyone hanging."
I know you, you're like this. When shit don't go your way, you needed me to fix it.
And like me, I did, but I ran out of every reason.
---
The cracks of the next morning’s light streaming through the slats on his window were barely perceptible to Angel in his haze. The kind of stupor that comes when you’ve effectively straddled the line between two worlds -- Angel reluctantly bids farewell to the gentle caress of sleep, even if it was imperfect and restless; and begrudgingly greets the world of the waking, frowning beneath a heavily-furrowed brow at the grey-orange sun.
Through the warming beams of light that streamed in isolated splashes across his skin and the bedspread, he could still imagine, half in dreams, that the warmth was you curled beside him, all soft curves, your thigh slotted between his, your sleep-mussed hair, his shirt riding up your form just so as you snoozed, and oh, your sweet, half-awake smiles. But the alternating cool spots of shade from the slats were the chilly reminder of your absence, of the ghost of your touch long gone cold. And as Angel shook himself more evermore awake and into the latter world, he wished he could return to the amorphous and hazy, staticky embrace of his dreams.
Where life was a little more kind. Where there was a little more you. You were haunting him. Did memories, both experienced in your past together and the hypothetical potential “memories” of an unmet future, plague you, as well? Never to be? Did you dream of him? Or was he your nightmare? He supposed he’d never know, and knew had given up the right to ask.
Put myself to sleep, just so I can get closer to you inside my dreams ...
It was a truth that was bitter, acrid, and hard to swallow. Or was that just his morning breath? Angel licked his lips, tasting the post-sleep stale dryness on his tongue, pushing himself out his side of the bed and toward the door -- for coffee or his toothbrush, he hadn’t decided. But the need to make a decision was cut short with an unexpected event--
A pounding at his door. Three raps from a heavy fist on the other side of his shitty apartment’s excuse for a door.
“Angel!” The shout through the wooden barrier that followed the persistent banging was unmistakably his obnoxious younger brother, come to pester him about what had gone down yesterday. Likely with a peace offering of some sort, as was EZ’s way.
Angel sighed, rolling his neck to both sides until he was satisfied with the resulting crack, not bothering to tug on a shirt or socks as he padded his way through the cool, empty apartment.
He fixed his signature scowling look of annoyance that EZ was so accustomed to to his face before swinging open the door.
One of EZ’s bearpaw-like fists was still raised, fixed to rap against the door again if necessary. The other clutched a carrier with two to-go cups of coffee from EZ’s favorite shop. The one down the street from yours. The one with the cute barista.
EZ, for his part, looked a little sheepish at the exaggeratedly grumpy look on his older brother’s face, his gilded, mossy eyes widening in a show of good-natured surprise. He recovered quickly, shouldering his way into Angel’s apartment, placing the to-go carrier with Angel’s coffee on his coffee table and flopping on one end of Angel’s couch, the leather giving a groan beneath his weight.
“By all means, bro, make yourself at fuckin’ home,” Angel groused, smacking his lips and turning to swipe the cup of coffee off of the table.
“You’re welcome,” EZ smarted, eyebrows raised at Angel guzzling the fresh coffee like the heat was nothing. What was it you had called it?
Ah, asbestos mouth. EZ had heard the moniker pass through your lips on more than one occasion and found it to be apt as applied to his taciturn older brother.
“So,” Angel said between sips of nuclear caffeine. “What? Any particular reason you’re banging on my door at ...” Angel trailed off, clearly unsure what time it actually was.
“At 11:00 a.m.?” EZ supplied, sarcastically, “You’re right, Angel. It’s practically dawn.”
“Man, shut up,” Angel groused, “What do you want?”
“Who says I want anything,” EZ asked?
“This coffee’s got a string attached to it,” Angel shrugged, shuffling over to the couch and sitting a respectable distance from his annoying younger brother.
“We gotta talk about yesterday,” EZ supplied, finishing his sentence over Angel’s exaggerated groan and eye-rolling.
“Wasn’t the point of yesterday that it’s done, little brother?”
“Between you and Andres, maybe,” EZ said. “But not between you and me. After that shit you pulled at brunch with Gaby a few days ago, and now this, with Frida...”
Angel took another sip of his coffee, his annoyance doubling at the increasingly lighter weight of the cup in his hands and at his brother’s pestering.
“So, what? You wanna try and beat the shit outta me, too?” Angel asked. “Didn’t work out so well for Andres, did it?”
“Look, Angel, I’m not trying to say I understand why you did what you did, fucking with Frida and Adelita. Because I don’t. And I gotta be honest -- after how yesterday went down, I understand it even less. And Coco agrees with me --”
“Oh, great,” Angel rolled his eyes, cutting his brother off. “You gotta stop going to the Church of Coco, man. What’d he tell you this time?”
“That you’re fucking your way through your pain,” EZ parroted, mimicking Coco’s signature throaty breeze, “and you won’t stop until you feel something,” he shrugged, resuming his normal voice as he continued. “I don’t know about alla that, but --”
"It was too … domestic," Angel cut EZ off, shaking his head, more at himself than his brother. "Can you really see me with all that shit? Drinking coffee in bed together on a Sunday morning until we're old? Nah, bro … that ain't me. Adelita, the chaos. That's me."
"It could be you, Angel," EZ protested. "The only person saying you can't have the Sunday coffee life is you."
“I'd just… I'd just fuck it up,” Angel sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm, his elbow on his knee.
EZ continued drinking his coffee, pausing before delivering the blow.
“I got news for you, bro,” he said between his prim little sips. “You did fuck it up.”
Angel tch’d in annoyance at his brother, carding his hands through his hair and smoothing the thick strand that seemed to always threaten to fall over his eyes. For good measure, he tossed EZ that wicked side-eye only that only Angel and his mother had ever been able to truly perfect.
“You think I don’t know that? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”
Angel takes another pull of his coffee, now just the overly-concentrated dregs at the bottom of the cup, lightly grimacing at the beverage’s bitterness. EZ knew Angel took his coffee black, of course it would be the kind of thing his little brother would remember. But, in truth, given the way this conversation was turning, the literal sensation of bitterness on his tongue was almost too much for Angel to bear. He’d almost preferred it if EZ had forgotten his order -- watered the drink down with cream and (dare he say it?) sugar, and called it a day. Because at least it would be easier to swallow than the harsh truths and bile that were currently stewing inside of Angel, waiting to be given a voice. And it didn’t seem that EZ was in any kind of charitable mood when it came to pulling punches, either.
Angel took in his brother’s profile from his perched place at the end of the couch: EZ’s legs were spread in a show of comfort, but shoulders tensed, like he was waiting to fight Angel every step of the way, no matter where this conversation was headed. Angel supposed he’d deserved that.
For as fiercely protective as little Ezekiel was of his big brother, he was -- annoyingly so -- protective of the woman he’d dubbed his hermanita. A soft spot for you, the artsy girl with ink-stained fingers who would press lent books into his baby brother’s hands insistently, all the books you could bear to part with. Always there for Ezekiel with a patient ear and arms that would do their best to wrap around his broad shoulders.
Angel was struck again with the heavy weight-- the sinking stone in his gut that -- in theory-- should pull him to the bottom of the river he found himself awash in. Drowning is a sort of grounding, yes? But no… he just drifted further and further down the bank, carried in the foaming rapids by the pressing weight of his choices. In addition to that weight, his guilt prickled. Once again with the realization that his decisions had affected not only his love with you, but your relationship with Ezekiel, as well. How incredibly short-sighted he'd been with it all, playing fast and loose with the lives of everyone he'd loved.
Angel sighed before he spoke again,
“No one ever tells you, do they?” EZ perked up at that, looking at his brother with his brows furrowed in puppylike-confusion.
“No one ever tells you just how insecure it all makes you feel,” Angel supplied. “Love. They write a million songs about how perfect it all is -- how it’s supposed to be some kind of divine answer. Birds singing, an’ shit. Or they talk about how it rips your fuckin’ heart out, but they…” Angel pauses to chuckle, “They never tell you how when you’ve got it, you feel both so… happy it’s yours. But terrified at the same time that it never. Really. Belongs to you.”
He shook his head, meeting his brother’s eyes again, his own swimming with the glimmer of emotion long-kept down. EZ leaned across the couch, placing a warm hand on his brother’s shoulder, nodding at him in acquiescence, encouragement to keep going.
“I-I know what I did, and I know everyone wants an answer… Why did I do it? Why-why did I let it all go down like that? But what answer would ever be good enough? I hurt her, and that’s the end of it. I was fuckin’ stupid, all because I was scared. I had her, and I knew I shouldn’t have had her at all. And I’m just so fuckin’ … sorry.”
He sighed, breath shuddering. Opting to fill the now-still air in his apartment with another bitter slug of shitty coffee while EZ pondered what to say in response.
EZ shifted on the couch, leather creaking beneath him as he weighed what to tell his brother.
“I- I don’t know what the answer here is, Angel,” EZ finally admitted. “I get that it’s scary. Fuck yeah, it is. But that’s no excuse --”
“I know that,” Angel snapped.
EZ held his hands up in surrender, placating the red dragon-heat that was his brother’s quick temper before it could rise.
“I know you do,” EZ spoke softly, “I know, man. But it’s not that simple. You should probably tell her, ya know? What you just told me. But even if you did, she’d be within her right not to hear it. Or not to want to fix shit with you, or take your apology. And you? Gotta accept it.”
EZ brushed imaginary dirt from the thigh of his jeans before speaking again,
“Sucks,” he sighed through his nose. “I dunno if I’d be madder at her for taking you back or for not taking you back. But, uh, even if she doesn’t, that doesn’t mean you won’t find it again, Angel. You just gotta decide whether you wanna try here -- and accept the outcome no matter what she decides. You owe her that. But one thing’s for sure … you should actually try talkin’ to her.”
Angel had the faraway look in his eye of a man either deep in thought, or someone not listening entirely, staring through the far wall as EZ had spoken to him. Maybe he didn’t look it, but he’d heard every word, turning them over again in his mind before swallowing them somewhere deep in his gut, internalizing wisdom from someone who was younger than him, but who’d undoubtedly lived through more than most people. EZ was good for that kind of bereft wisdom -- disconnected in its logic coming from someone like EZ, but completely sensical when you understood the depth of the boy’s character and empathy. Not for the first time in his life, Angel was grateful for Ezekiel.
He smiled weakly at his little brother, acceptance cracking through the little cracked crescent grin, “Mom would’ve liked her, huh?”
EZ smiled at his brother in return, facile and genuine, as only Ezekiel’s grins could be.
---
I swear, for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name, but now that it's there, I don't really know what to say…
Across town, EZ had left Angel’s, and the latter, now alone in his apartment and buzzing with EZ's words, was typing a text to you. And here you are … looking down at your phone between gathering your laundry and stacking clean dishes. You saw Angel’s name pop up next to the little text bubble on your homescreen, causing you to pause in your chores.
Huh. Unexpected Should you open it?
After everything that had gone down yesterday at the scrapyard, and the shitty attempt a few days prior to fuck up your date-- were you ready now to have the conversation you knew you and Angel were dancing around for the better part of several months? Ready to breach the seemingly impenetrable wall of silence? Feelings like the ones you held for Angel had a way of not being able to stay buried for too long. And you knew you could never truly move on, never would be able to give the icy shards wedged between your ribs and into your heart a chance to heal. Not unless you and Angel got it all out into the open.
And with the circumstances the way they were, with everything that had gone down -- how many women in your position could say they'd had the same opportunity?
How did the old saying go? What three things cannot long be hidden? The sun. The moon. And the truth.
The truth was, to you, the sun and moon rose and set on Angel.
The truth was, you had bitten off a few barbs and spat them at Angel in the few moments you’d shared with him since he tossed you from his apartment all those months ago. You weren't a perfect person. But it’s damn well what he deserved, after what he did. You weren’t wrong about that. The fact that everyone, and Angel’s father, were angry at him for the way things had gone down told you that you were not the one in the wrong.
The truth was, Angel had fucked up. Not only with his infidelity and the way he had tipped you from his life, with blunt hands tearing haphazardly at the roots… but he had insulted you, your work, and stood idly by and allowed others to do the same.
He knew it, and you knew it. And you had both been petty.
But now that the wound was open, and the skin around it raw and heated, pulsing with its own heartbeat -- how could you ever give it a chance to heal if you didn't try to close it?
There was nothing saying that if you read Angel’s message, if you heard him out, and you got the chance to say your own piece, that you had to forgive him. And if it meant moving on? Maybe it was the step you needed to take.
Like burning a candle to the end. Or, yes, wrapping a wound. Or perhaps like covering an old tattoo. Clara Forever?
You unlocked your phone, sliding open your texts, taking a deep breath as you did so.
“I just wanted you to know I heard what you said,” Angel’s text read. “I do wanna talk to you, Frida. But only when you’re ready to talk to me. If you ever are. I just want to hear you out. Even if I know you never have to accept my apology.”
Well.
You looked down at your phone. You read Angel's text. Re-read it.
You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't acknowledge that everything that had gone down hadn't been building to this.
You brought your thumbs to the glass, beginning to type,
"I'm off tomorrow at six. You can come by after."
There. Short, sweet, and to the point.
Your phone pinged in your hand. Glancing down at it, you saw two words in response,
"Gracias, Frida."
"Don't thank me yet."
You put your phone down flat on the counter.
The truth was, you still loved Angel Reyes. And you weren't sure whether your rage outweighed your ardor. And this scared the shit out of you.
When Angel rolled up the next day at ten after six, you were slightly annoyed. In the beginning of your relationship, he had been incredibly punctual, likely borne out of eagerness to see you. As time wore on, Angel's timeliness waned. At the time, you had assumed it had everything to do with his commitments to the club, and had remained understanding. With the benefit of hindsight, however, you now knew that it likely wasn't always the club.
You didn't know anything about Adelita, save for her relationship to Angel. And you intended to keep it that way. But a nastier part of your brain was intensely curious.
Did she make Angel laugh? Was she smarter than you? Prettier than you? She had to be beautiful, just like Angel was beautiful. The thought made your heart ache.
When she kissed Angel, did she taste your lips on his? Did she know about you now? Did she hold more of Angel's heart than you had?
If you were more like her, would Angel have chosen you?
You knew you wouldn't ask Angel any of these questions -- what did they always say? Don't ask something you don't really want the answers to?
You slept easier at night keeping the idea of Adelita just that -- an amorphous, question mark-shaped idea. Knowing Angel's part in it all was more than enough.
Easier. You said you slept easier. Not well. You dreamt of Angel far too often to say you slept well. You dreamt of the feel of his hair between your fingers, both in a gentle and comforting pass, and in the harsh tugging borne of passion. You dreamt of the feel of his warm skin against yours. You dreamt of days spent swimming in the ocean, him lifting you up to twirl you through the water, like a sea sprite, a deity meant to be worshipped. Perhaps most cruelly, you sometimes dreamt of a future. Your memories blended with your dreams at the cruel, twisting hands of hazy sleep. Never to be.
And when Angel arrived at your place shortly after you had returned home from closing the shop, your gut, your brain, and your heart were all writhing in their own respective dances, never in sync with one another, and rendering your nerves completely fried.
You opened the door, beckoning Angel in. You stopped yourself from moving to help remove the kutte from his shoulders and hanging it by the door, freezing your hands in the middle of raising to do just that, dropping them awkwardly by your sides again.
If Angel noticed, he hadn't said anything.
He shuffled into your place, likely surveying what had changed since he had last been there. To his surprise? Not much. You still had candles everywhere, casting everything in a warm glow. Your overstuffed chairs were still draped in cozy blankets and piled with brightly-patterned throw pillows. The bookcase in the corner of your living room was still packed to the edges, stacks of additional books on the floor at the foot. Your potted green plants made the room look simultaneously larger and smaller. Your dedication to maximalism was admirable.
You loved what you loved, even if you didn't have the space. In your heart, or otherwise.
Angel breathed in the familiar cinnamon-orange scent that was your place, its permanent residence in his mind sending a zip through his heart.
You shuffled past Angel, into your living room and making your way toward the kitchen, offering Angel a drink, which he declined.
You shrugged. "Suit yourself."
You made your way into the kitchen, opening a cabinet that Angel knew contained a precarious tower of stacked coffee mugs. Like a personal game of Jenga only you could win, you plucked your desired mug, and closed the cabinet before the dangerous clinking of the remaining mugs could turn disastrous.
You prepared a cup of tea while Angel stood at the carpeted edge of your living room, unsure of just how comfortable he was allowed to make himself in this space that -- while just as chaotically orderly and distinctly you as he remembered it -- seemed to be purged of any remembrance of him.
Stirring honey into your mug of tea and blowing on it, you watched Angel over the rim of your mug. Watched him observe your space, and waited for him to speak.
You tilted your head toward the open door of your bedroom, breaking the silence first,
“I, uhhh, I’ve been working all day. I’m just gonna change real fast.” You shuffled your feet into the carpet, padding softly into your room and pushing the door softly shut.
You slipped out of your jeans and into soft sweats and an oversized tee. Maybe if you felt more comfortable, you could stave off some of the awkwardness. Maybe letting Angel back into your space wasn’t the best idea.
After changing, you took a moment -- sat on your bed, elbows balanced on your knees and head in your hands … you took a few deep breaths, lit a candle. Your palms felt clammier by the second, knowing that Angel was out there waiting for your re-emergence.
You don’t know how long you were sitting on the edge of your bed, just breathing. Preparing yourself.
A soft knock on your bedroom door broke your dazed thoughts. You looked up, seeing Angel through the widening crack in the door, fist raised, his knuckle rapping softly on your bedroom door.
You locked eyes for moment before Angel chuckled sheepishly to himself, shuffling his feet in your doorway,
“I, uh, thought you might’ve jumped out the window,” he chuckled lightly.
Leave it to Angel to find a way to lighten the heavy mood that had descended upon your space. You managed to crack a small smile, corner of your mouth tilting up just-so in that way he had always found endearing.
“The thought had crossed my mind,” you shrugged, patting the space next to you, acquiescing to allow Angel to sit.
He crossed your room, exhaling heavily as he took a seat next to you on the bed.
Now that you were seated so closely to Angel in the low light of your bedroom, you looked at his face, taking him in. Really looking at him for the first time in months. Trying to ignore the pricking feelings of trauma that were doing their best to bubble beneath the surface and consume you --- had Angel not broken your heart in a manner so like this? Seated next to one another on the end of his bed while he told you, in no uncertain terms, that he was done with you? The thought made a sick wave of nausea wash through you. You wiped your perpetually-sweaty hands along the thighs of your sweats.
You had survived the last encounter like this, hadn't you? Honestly, what more could he do to you?
For his part, Angel was silent next to you, surveying the space of your room as he had in your living room. The familiar clutter greeted him -- a stack of books and a coffee mug on your bedside. A sketchbook never too far from reach. The comforter beneath him as pillowy as he remembered. He shuddered a sigh.
You decided to take conversational mercy on him,
"Go ahead,” you beckoned. “Say what you have to. But just know I meant what I said at the party. I don't need shit from you. You telling me what you want to say is for you. And when it's done, you're going to give me what I deserve and listen to me. We need to put this behind us. I’m not going to be looking over my shoulder for you for the rest of my life, Angel.” What had started as a murmur grew fiercer with each word.
"That's fair, querida," was all he offered. Your words to him each time you had spoken since the party were evermore forceful. He was used to gentle Frida. It wasn't often that the turn of your tide was leveled against him. Not often he was forced to bear the brunt of your storm when you were upset.
He could see what Coco meant. It was unwise to make you angry
He turned his body slightly to face yours, looking down at your hands as though he was contemplating attempting to hold one. His fingers twitched where his hands rested along his thighs. Better just to crack the ice, become submerged in frozen water. Take the shock out of it now, even if he wasn't sure where to begin, now that he faced you.
“I”m not really sure what I can tell you that’ll make it better,” he admitted.
You sighed.
“I’m not looking for you to make it better, Angel. There is no more better. Whatever you want to say, you say it,” you pressed. “We’re past better. We’re not together. you were clear about that. You don’t have to spare my feelings, I’m not your girl.”
Angel flinched, almost imperceptibly, at your last statement. He knew you weren’t together, knew you weren’t his. Hell, he’d been busy in the months since you’d been broken up. Busy chasing Adelita. Busy with other women when it didn’t work out with Adelita. Busy acting like a jackass with Andres. Busy with club nonsense. But hearing you say that you weren’t his girl?
It made Angel’s heart ache in a way he wasn’t expecting.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said. At your scoff, he shook his head. “Really. After Adelita told me she was pregnant … I thought it was easier just to let you go. I needed to be there for her, for the kid. Even if it meant -- even if it meant losing you.”
“Easier for who? For you?” Your voice was soft. You hated that, once again, you felt like the crystalline girl Angel’s heartbreak had rendered you. Worried that the slightest thing would shatter you once more.
Angel chucked again, but there was no humor behind it. His eyes looked flat, as though he wasn’t really focusing on anything.
“For both of us, I guess. It’s stupid. I thought if I just -- cut you out … we would both be better. But … that ain’t what happened. I just made us both miserable. I made you hate me. And now ... She's gone. And so are you,” Angel’s voice was low, cracked.
The weight of his words, coupled with the gravelly pitch of his voice was making you feel restless, itchy. Grit like pebbly grains of sand you would roll between your fingers on days at the beach, palpable and pronounced.
“A-and,” you interjected, “how did you meet her? When did you meet her?”
Angel’s eyes darted to meet yours again, finding a swimming emotion he was getting better at putting his finger on. You only looked like that when you were getting lost in negative thoughts, awash in a sad song. Or when he was breaking your heart. He hated that look on your face. Hate that it marred your beautiful features into baleful melancholy.
“Club shit,” was all he’d said. “We were mixed up in some shit with the rebels. We were helping each other. W-we connected. It just … happened.”
You whipped your head at that last bit, eyes hardening. Angel’s hands came up, defensively.
“I know. Everyone says that, don’t they? It’s true… and I -- I really didn’t mean to hurt you. When I found out she was pregnant, I thought I was doing the right thing. By her. And by you,” he sucked air in through his teeth before releasing the breath in a huff of air. “I was wrong, Frida. I made every wrong choice, and I’m sorry.”
Angel carded his hands through his hair, tugging the ends lightly in his frustration.
“I-- I just been going through some shit lately. And then ... Ezekiel tried to serve us brunch, and I was an asshole.”
He looked at you, only to meet your puzzled gaze.
“Brunch?” You queried, wrinkling your nose lightly. “Since when are you a brunch kinda guy, Angelito?”
“I really ain’t,” he said. “And you?”
“I like brunch just fine,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.
“That’s not what I mean, Frida, and you know it,” he said. “But we can get back to that later.” He took in your loose sweats, the way you had been picking your nails, the bags beneath your eyes. You had looked so beautiful, so perfect and untouchable, at the patch party the other night. And now -- in your room, all pretense stripped away, Angel could see the real you … behind the professional and put-together front. The tired girl with a broken heart. And he felt the residual ache in his chest that had taken residence left of his heart ever since the day he had put your stuff in a box and left it outside of his door.
“I know you have something you want to say to me, too, Frida. Your turn. How are you feeling?”
You laughed hollowly, your eyes fixed on the doorway to your room, half expecting Angel to get up and go.
“I’ve been better, Angel,” you deadpanned, swiveling to look at him, and finding him still seated next to you. “Ya know? It’s been a tough couple of days? Between that disaster of a party and whatever the hell went down the other day… but this town is too small for us to just try to ignore each other, and I do like it here.” You rubbed your eyes, the air between the two of you filling with silence that never used to be so awkward.
“That can’t be all you gotta say,” Angel pressed. “C’mon, Frida. Tell me how you’re feeling. I was… I was awful to you.”
The candle in the corner of the room sputtered, causing momentary, flickering shadows to dance along the walls of your room. Your safe, homey space felt full of shadows and ghosts, words unspoken between the two of you threatening to burst forth, your closet brimming with proverbial skeletons.
And you were just so tired. And now Angel was pressing you? You weren’t sure if the heat was from your sweats, the proximity of the man next to you, that you had turned up the thermostat too high. Or the fact that you were still so fucking angry.
“You want to know how I’m feeling, Angel?” You tugged on the ends of your hair, running your hands down the thighs of your sweats once more. Were you always so sweaty? “I appreciate you telling me the truth. Finally. And for apologizing, I guess.”
Tears were pricking at your eyes, the heat blazing in your cheeks matching the heat in the room.
"But you made me look stupid. Like someone in need of pity," you sucked air in through your teeth. "I fucking hate pity, Angel. It's just misplaced empathy. A useless emotion. And you’d think I’d just wear that mess? For everyone to see? At the party. At the yard. Everyone just feeling sorry for me. For months. Because of you.”
The ache in Angel’s chest intensified. Awash in a wave of hot shame. Was it always so hot in this room? You were right. And weren’t you always? You never were that girl, and he had sent you down the river like you meant nothing, your artist’s hands crushed beneath the washed stones of his choices. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done, apparently --
“And after everything? The way it went down? You made me feel like … I don’t know … Like you were punishing me,” your voice cracked, sobs and tears imminent through the dam you had erected. “Like I loved you more than you loved me, and you knew it… like you wanted to make me pay for that.”
“Frida …” Angel turned his body toward yours fully now, closing the space between the two fo you and cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the silvery hot tears that were slipping down your face, sick that he had caused them. Sick that he had even made you think that what you were saying was true. “It wasn’t like that,” he assured.
“And the shittiest part is,” you hiccuped around your words, “you can’t even tell me give me the comfort of a cliche -- you can’t honestly tell me ‘it meant nothing,’ or that it was a ‘one-time thing,’ because none of that is true, is it? You care about her -- you had a child with her. You love her. And here I thought I could take what you did, take you, fold you up and tuck you away, like a note you pass in school. And I can’t. I just can’t.”
You tilted your face downward now as your tears fell, allowing your face to be fully cupped by Angel’s warm, calloused hands. Even now, you were still amazed at how tender his touch was, despite his rough exterior. All he wanted now was to comfort you, to touch you and bring your eyes to his again. To remind you of his love for you. Once. Now. Always?
“Frida, it wasn’t like that. They were my selfish, stupid choices. Mine. And I was scared. Scared of how much I wanted … everything with you. And it wasn’t right. I told you -- I … been going through some shit.”
“Scared,” you murmured. Turning your face in Angel’s hands, causing your lips to brush over his fingers. You leaned back, effectively releasing your face from the trace of his touch.
“Isn’t it remarkable how secure and insecure you can simultaneously feel when you’ve found someone worth loving? I felt it, too. With you it's now I knew you were the one,” You said. Angel straightened in shock, at how, though you weren’t present for his conversation yesterday with Ezekiel, you parroted his feelings he had confided in his brother back to him. Always on the same page. His full lips pursed as you continued.
“We can’t keep using what happened to hurt each other. I’m done with that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you felt the way you did. I’m sorry you felt like you needed to look elsewhere. And I hope you find what you're looking for,” you hated how soft your voice sounded to your own ears. Hadn't you meant to be forceful, angry? You sniffled. “Because, despite everything that’s happened... You are someone worth loving, Angelito.”
"No, Frida," he shook his head softly before looking at you again, eyes glittering. "You are. Someone deserving of more.”
Your breath caught in your chest at his words, taking this moment to look into his ochre eyes once more. You wanted to commit to your memory just how they swirl like melting chocolate and promises in low candlelight.
And, oh. Angel was made to be seen like this, you’d thought. The dim candlelight giving everything in your room a pleasant glow and slightly-blurry edges. He looked like his namesake. And how ironic was that, really? Considering the context of your conversation.
It's easy these days, you thought, for you to get carried away by your own feelings... While you searched desperately in the emotional rubble for your muse, Angel, the truth of it tore you to shreds with blunt fingernails -- knowing he was out in the world -- running freely and carelessly. Running away with your imagination. With your hope. With the pieces of your heart that had survived the blitzing storm he had put you through. With the pieces of your heart that had belonged to him. That you feared may always belong to him.
Looking at Angel now, in the low-lit steadfast luminescence of your room, shadows flickering agreeably across his angular cheekbones. He was sculpted. Made to be admired in perpetuity. Artist that you were, it ached. It stung. The knowledge that your hands were not the ones that had molded him into the man sat beside you. A man molded, instead, by his own choices.
All you could do was watch as those wrong decisions drifted lazily down the river, only to become a torrent, Angel caught in the current. The waves lapped loudly, sloppily against riverbanks of better judgment, but Angel is never quite washed ashore. No, as you watched, he slipped down the river, out of your fingertips and toward something you're too fearful to quantify. Away from you.
You want the river to carry him back to you. To home. But you know it never will.
Angel has two choices now: To drown under the weight of his path this river has wrought; or to swim.
As you sit beside him in the growing heat of your room, you hope he chooses to swim. Even if it’s not to where you stand.
"So, is that what’s next?” You asked, wiping your eyes.
At Angel’s puzzled look, you carried on,
"You're asking for it back," you whispered. “Or you’re going to. My heart? You may not have said it like that, exactly, but it's what you want. Like you don't know how bad it all hurt me, even if you say you know, I don't think you ever will. And even if I wanted to give it to you, I don't know if there's enough of it left."
You wrung your hands together, awaiting Angel’s response. You looked up at him through your lashes, clumped together with the tears that had escaped during your confessional.
His molten eyes were soft on your form, swallowing before he spoke again.
“I was such an asshole… to you. And at that stupid brunch … to Gaby. But it was all just … too much. I mean, she was wearing mom’s apron…” Angel shook his head. “And all I could think of … Even with Adelita out there, with her and my boy gone, outta my life… all I could think of was how it should be you wearing the stupid apron. It should be me giving you my mother’s ring. And I was so angry at Ezekiel for having all of that. For having what I wanted … wanted with you.”
If there was any air left in the room, it was certainly all gone now. All that was left was heat, no air or space between the two of you. Just stagnant air and the weight of words, both said and unsaid. And if Angel had said these words to you more than a year ago? Maybe they would sound different to your ears. Melodious, even.
Now, all you could think to do was comfort. Ever the nurturer. What else could you do, really, after he'd said that? You shook your head gently, lacing your fingers through Angel’s and squeezing.
“It’s not that he has something you don’t, or that you can’t have, Angel… What EZ and Gabriela have is what they have. It’s theirs. You’ll have yours. Someday.”
Silence descended upon the room once more. The warm scent of orange-cinnamon from your candle permeated the room, the ever-present heat between you and Angel banishing all thoughts of romantic winter from your mind.
“I just wanna say, again, Frida… how sorry I am for what happened at the party. For what happened with Andres. It was fucked up of me,” Angel’s tongue passed over his lips. “Did I answer all of your burning questions?”
You reached over, trailing your fingers over the tattoo you had given Angel what felt like a lifetime ago. His eyes followed the trajectory of your fingers, his nerves alight at the feeling of your starlit, feathery touch on his skin once more.
"Just one left.” Your eyes locked with his, unwavering. “Who am I to you, really?" You ask, the edge your silken voice had taken on slides beneath Angel's skin clumsily, like crumbling shards of glass. "What did I mean?"
Angel tries not to look at you now. Tries, but fails. His dark eyes meet your downcast ones once more, hates that they are once more glimmering with unshed tears waiting to fall. Hating that once again, he's the cause of the dreary blue tinge shading what should have been your sunny, hopeful worldview. Awash with the sunsets he would take you to see.
And if there was any time for blossoming truth, for a sprig of rosemary remembrance of sacred feeling, it was now.
"You're the love of my life," he finally admits, exhaling heavily. "That's just it, ain't it? Always you. And not that I have any right to ask you now -- But I need to know, Frida. Am I yours?"
Any air left was sucked from the room in one fell swoop, leaving you with the stuffy and sticky discomfort of Angel's question and the weight of his heated gaze on you, waiting for something, anything to fall from your pretty lips.
And what a question it was.
You knew the answer, of course. You reach up to brush your thumb tenderly across Angel’s sculpted cheek, as though you could be the one molding it, nodding before verbalizing your answer,
"You've always been the love of my life. Had my heart. I'm yours, But, I think I know now… that you were never truly mine. Even if you say it now. You have a heart that's not so easily won, Angelito. That's something I wish I'd learned sooner, wish I could've taken from you… from all of this."
All Angel could do was shake his head, the crease in his brow deepening at your words.
"Ever the poet, Frida."
"I thought I was a 'shit' poet?" You teased gently, recalling his words to you when he’d texted you to ask you out for the first time.
Angel chuckled, the grit and honey in his voice washing over you, a wave of silken heat, his eyes are fixed upon yours intently, leaning forward and bringing his hands to trace along your neck, your jaw, dragging his thumb over the full, pillowy part of your bottom lip.
“You did win it, Frida,” was all he said.
The rush of warm, fluttery feeling swam through your body, prickling you like sparkling, popping champagne. Angel’s eyes tracked yours, down to where his thumb was dragging across your lip. Your eyes slipped shut, lashes fluttering.
You could feel it rushing back. Everything Angel had ever made you feel -- the ardor, the frustration, the crushing weight of the river wild. Heat bloomed across your cheeks and down your chest, between your thighs and through the fingertips that you had brought to grip Angel’s biceps.
His declaration of love, of melted marshmallow and warm cocoa -- made you crave him in a way you had long thought gone.
You pressed your lips to kiss the tip of Angel’s thumb. You were rewarded with a reciprocal, sucking in of air on Angel’s part.
He held his breath momentarily before surging forward and capturing your lips with his full ones.
You were awash in the memory of every kiss shared with Angel. Of how he’d made you feel in your full-hearted moments together. Rich and full, like morning coffee. Hazy and sweet, like cherry smoke.
Angel’s kiss makes you feel dizzy, fizzing and dissolving simultaneously, like a Mento in a glass of Coke. Volatile and thrumming, both erupting and disappearing so fast, you were afraid you’d never have the chance to process exactly what it made you feel.
It might be okay, you reasoned to yourself -- if you could hold Angel just for one more night, feel his body pressed against yours. It felt like a good idea in this moment, just to hold him for one night only.
Your lips pressed against one another, his hand cupping your jaw trailing back to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging it -- causing your kiss to break. Angel trailed his lips from yours, down and along your jaw.
Angel’s grip firmed, turning your head further as he continued his attention down your neck, giving you a view of the chair next to your closet where you had haphazardly thrown Angel’s t-shirt when you had worn it last, a symbol of comfort now worn-out.
You laid back, Angel following, surging over you and pressing you into your cloudlike comforter. His hips rolled into yours, his teeth now scraping gently along the slope of your neck.
At the gasp you emitted, Angel felt himself harden in his jeans. He'd thought he'd never hear that sound from you again. And replaying the memory of it in his head? Not enough. He rolled his hips into yours again, again, as you dragged your thighs up Angel’s sides, locking your legs around his hips. He trailed warm hand down to caress your breast through your soft t-shirt, leaving a heated trail in its wake.
“Oh, Angel,” you gasped, rolling your hips to meet his.
“Can I kiss you like this, amor?” Angel rasped, “I’ll make you feel good.”
He took in the heat behind your eyes, the kiss-swollen state of your lips when he broke from them. The creeping heat he felt from beneath your collar in his position atop you, and the way your breasts heaved beneath your shirt.
The thread of resolve you were hanging by seemed to dissolve, leaving you unraveled and threadbare, naked before the man you swore would be your forever. The ache you felt between your legs burned crimson, cloudy and acrid. You tasted Angel’s kiss, tasted him, on your tongue.
You were never more aware of the dimensions of your body than when Angel had his hands on you, tracing and gripping every curve, the touch of places you don't think to touch yourself, strange but pleasurable as you relished in the trace of his rough fingertips against your smooth skin. He slid his hands down your waist, hips and into the loose waistband of your sweats, sliding them down your legs as he went.
Angel played your body with temerity, a confidence, and before you knew it, your lower half was bare before him. He pushed the soft, loose fabric of your t-shirt up and over your chest, trailing his lips over your now-exposed skin, bringing his other hand to cup your breast, circling the pad of his thumb over your nipple.
You gasped and groaned beneath Angel’s attention. Gripping at the hem of his shirt, you tugged it up and over his head, trailing your hands down his firm, thick torso.
Angel was reticent to deprive himself of your touch after not having had it for so long. The touch of your nimble, artist’s fingers trailing over the lines of his body made Angel feel like an instrument being plucked to a tune that made both his and your body sing. He thought he would never feel it again.
But this moment? This was about you.
Angel gripped your wrists, firmly planting your hands next to your head, following the trajectory and leaning over you with his full body. Releasing your wrists, Angel firmly pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue swiping past your lips and invading your mouth. Hot, needy, dirty.
Ange tore his mouth from yours, his lips trailing lower and lower down your body, kissing your hips, nipping at your hipbone, causing you to yelp and buck your hips.
The action drew Angel’s attention, lifting his lips from your body, his eyes meeting yours.
“I missed you, baby. Did you miss me? Sweet girl...” His voice was lower than you think you’d ever heard it, dangerously so.
Bringing his hand down to cup your mound, he traced his fingers through your slick folds.
“Ah-Angel,” you gasped, tilting your head back at the blissful feel of Angel’s touch. As quickly as his touch had come, he withdrew it, causing your eyes to snap open, fixed on him and full of fire.
“You know how this works, querida. I won’t touch you unless you answer me,” he taunted, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly over where you’d wanted him most, staunch in his refusal to commit to the touch.
“God, Angel, yes,” You gasped. “P-please.”
Angel rewarded you, prising apart your legs and sliding down your body, tracing a teasing lick of his tongue through your folds, increasing in pace and intensity at the noises passing through your lips.
"I d-do miss you,” you sighed, starting to roll your hips against Angel’s tongue. “I miss the way you touch me… the way you fuck me.”
God. It was hot, the way you talked, the way you gave yourself over to him.
Stars and firecrackers popped behind your eyes at Angel’s attention, cinnamon heat seeping through your bones, writhing and twisting at the way Angel strung his way through your body. Unable to justify the concept of being left alone, you tugged up at Angel’s jaw, forcing him to look up at you. Met with your wanton gaze, Angel licks his lips at the sight of you and slides back up your body with a grace that defies his size.
Now level with you once more, he gripped your jaw, turning your head to the side and attacked your neck, your breasts with renewed vigor, grinding his denim-clad hardness against your naked core, the painful drag of the fabric turning pleasurable.
With your gaze turned toward the wall, you were once again greeted with the sight of Angel’s rumpled t-shirt on the chair by your closet. An object of comfort, threads and strings tying you to a past life.
What were you doing? Taking comfort in something that you couldn’t, in good conscience, call your own?
The rumpled shirt seemed to be mocking you, taunting you. Reminding you that, once again, you were seeking clinging to something you shouldn't. Seeking solace in things -- people -- that you shouldn't.
Apart from Christopher's warm, sly, sensational goodnight kiss the other day, Angel's was the first touch you'd experienced like this since, well, Angel… How easy it was to slip back into your feelings for him, get caught up in him.
I'd give it all just to hold you close, sorry that I broke your heart...
You shouldn’t be doing this.
“Angel,” you prised his lips from your body. “St-stop.”
Angel’s eyes were wild, hair mussed and lips swollen.
“What, querida?”
“Angel,” you sighed again, sliding your shirt down and coming to sit up. “We can’t be doing this.”
Angel slouched next to you with a huff, trailing his fingers down your arm.
“Why not?”
You sighed. After all this time, the feeling of Angel so close to you was everything you thought you wanted. But everything that had been said? The water beneath your respective bridges? Angel was still awash, had not come to rest on any bank. And you were still waiting on the shore -- now certain that all you would mold from the riverbank clay were memories and half-baked dreams.
“We’re not together,” you breathed, leaning over the bed to pick up your sweats and tug them back on. “And that’s not what this is. We're too old for platitudes, and happy endings are for children's stories. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you know this is wrong.”
“Querida -- I want…" Angel started, before turning away, leaning over his thighs and tugging his hands through his hair… his distress with how he had let himself get so out of control with you was mounting. He sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“What? Angel,” you touched your hand to his still-bare shoulder. “What do you want?”
"A second chance…?" Angel's normally smooth voice trailed at the end, transforming his desire into a question, fading into the silence of the room. He shifted his shoulders, turning his body to once more face yours, but not quite meeting your eyes.
You let his words hang in silence for a moment, weighing how you wanted to respond.
“Say something, Frida.”
"I knew you'd say that," you chuckled drily. "I know you, you're like this. But second chances become third, fourth, fifth. I can't trust you. What did you expect me to say?"
Angel opened his mouth to answer before catching sight of the expression on your face, twisted into proverbial knots. Even now, you were being far more gracious than he had any right to expect. He closed his mouth again, sighing.
"I don't know, dulce."
"I do,” you shook your head. “You expected me to say 'yes,' " you reached across the bed to one more lace your fingers through his. "I know you. But what does it say about me that I want to? It would be so like me, wouldn't it?"
You squeezed Angel's fingers tenderly in your grip, awarding him a flickering, wan smile.
Angel's voice cracked when he spoke again, "Then say yes, Frida. Let me prove it to you. Prove that we’re meant to be together."
"And would you? Would you take me back if I did that to you? If I had someone else's child? While we were together?"
Angel was silent at that, not having considered the reversal of roles. In truth, though you knew him, he knew you, too. It would be so wildly out of character, how would he have been expected to consider it?
"You think you might, because you love me. But, see, Angelito, I don't think you would. So how can you sit there and say we're two people who are meant to be when we don't even love each other the same? Love doesn't come in pieces, amor. You held my heart in your hands. And you crushed it. Let it crumble into nothing, like sand. Like I meant nothing."
“But this--” Angel gestured between the two of you, eyes lingering on the skin of your neck where his mouth had been, tracing his fingers over your kiss-swollen lips.
“--Can’t happen.” Tears were rising to your eyes again.
Goddamnit. Couldn’t you get through one conversation with him without crying?
“Maybe we are meant to be. And maybe we'll find our way back to one another. But right now? I -- I don't think I can. But more importantly, I don't think we should. And please hear me when I tell you how much it breaks my heart to say that."
Your heart was burning, but your skin was ice. Dream, they call desire. And he could hear the heartbreak in your voice. Always stupidly genuine.
Angel was stock-still, and as you took in his prone form, eyes tracing to his face -- you saw a lone tear slip down his cheek, shaking his head.
"I miss you, you know?" He chuckled, no humor in his soft, velvet voice.
"I know."
You were in a fugue state, the rumble of Angel’s bike retreating down the street barely registering as you were processing as you retreated to your bed, the room and your sheets noticeably cooler in Angel’s absence. The room feeling too large without him in it.
As you settled into bed, you noticed it -- Angel’s old shirt, still on your chair.
You hadn’t thought to return it.
---
The following week found you back in the shop, preparing for your mid-afternoon appointment. You had wiped down the table, changed the wrapping, and were now idly jotting as you waited. Thoughts on one person in particular.
The bell above the shop door dinged, causing you to look up from the poem you were penning on the lime-green sticky you kept a stack of near your work station.
Your one o'clock was right on time.
And you were greeted with the sight of Angel striding in with two cups of caffeine, offering one two you as he rested his ringed hand on the counter.
“If you want an appointment, you’d better call first. You know what they say about walk-ins. Always risky.”
Since Angel had departed your place in the middle of the night a week ago, the words between the two of you having had time to simmer and settle, allowing you to process the weight of it all.
For his part, Angel had given you space. Hadn’t said anything past texting you to tell you he had made it home safely.
In the days that had followed, you had cautiously cracked the ice between the two of you, hoping to assuage any awkwardness and rebuild some kind of friendly connection removed from the physical. It was probably better that way. Messaging him idly to ask about his day. Not that you had shared with Angel, but you were also texting Christopher.
Angel had called the shop, asking if you were available to help him with something he’d wanted to do. Something special, he’d said.
“Something for Ezekiel,” Angel told you. “He’s been through alot lately, with Gaby and the club and everything … been through alot with me lately. Now feels like the right time”
You had, of course, readily agreed. Eager and honored to help Angel with a tribute to his brother. The texts between the two of you changed to exchanges of ideas, you sending him screenshots of your sketches before the two of you had decided on a design that fit.
You accepted the cup of coffee from Angel gratefully and with a gentle smile, beckoning him behind the counter. Coffee truly was a love language.
“You can sit in the chair and lean forward, or you can lie on the table. Both are clean. Dealer’s choice,” you said between sips.
Angel nodded, slugging the last of his coffee and placing the cup down before slipping his shirt over his torso, baring his back to you as he sat in the chair, leaning forward and twisting his abdomen to bare his shoulder blade to you.
The tawny patch of skin on his shoulder, above the large Mayans tribute that covered the expanse of his back, seemed like the perfect place for something for EZ, the angel (ha ha) on his shoulder and guiding influence in one another’s lives.
You cleaned and bic’d the area, stenciling your design into the space and getting your kit ready to begin.
Angel watched what he could of you from the corner of his eye, a resonant ache blooming through his chest at the familiarity of this scene. Of you, all business, touching his skin, preparing to impart a piece of yourself that he would wear on his body for the rest of his days.
You queued up your playlist, the sounds of motown flowing through the shop as you hummed along idly.
In this moment, Angel knew … he was still in love with you. Likely always would be. You had been far too gracious with him, as you always were -- in the way you had treated him the other night. No mention of your “almost” encounter, for which he was grateful. And he knew he was correct in his assessment of you when you had first started dating -- it was in your nature.
“You mind?” Angel broke the comfortable silence between the two of you, gesturing at the journal-like sketchbook you had left near your station.
You shook your head in acquiescence, “No. But it’s kind of a mess in there lately,” you acknowledged. “Shit poet, and all.”
“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Angel barked a laugh. “I didn’t insult your poetry, Frida, you did.”
“Ever the self-deprecating, starving artist,” you sighed dramatically.
Angel took that as his cue, flipping through the pages of your book. One page felt particularly heavy beneath his fingers. He flipped to it, to be met with dried, pressed flowers that had been delicately glued to the pages, the page covered in a plastic slipsheet -- the dried, dusky pink of peony petals were affixed to the page next to a swath of a white, lacy-looking bloom.
Around the flowers were sketches of hands that looked suspiciously like Angel’s own, down to the tattoos, and idle lines of poetry.
Angel furrowed his brows as he glanced at the flowers again.
“You got those flowers for me,” you acknowledged, looking over his shoulder to see the page of your book he had settled on. “One of our first dates, when we went to the park. I’m not sure if you remember.”
Angel’s throat caught in a way that both annoyed and unsettled him. How were you always doing this to him?
“Recuerdo, Frida,” he breathed. “Lo recuerdo todo.”
You patted his arm gently, resuming your work.
“I like pressing flowers. It takes a while, but the end result is worth it.”
You pinched your brows in concentration as you drew along the stenciled lines you’d previously etched into Angel’s shoulder blade, gun buzzing. You began to fill in the minimalist rising sun that was now filling the shoulder blade, stippling the interior as you went, the effect giving the sun an almost stucco-like finish that looked breathtaking against Angel’s golden skin.
Angel allowed you to continue you work in silence, the weight of the past few days with you settling into his bones. He had pleaded with you, endeared himself to you so much that he had lost his voice. His bones filling with the words he wished he could verbalize.
He was slowly arriving at that place of acceptance -- Santo Padre was a small town. He would see you. And it appeared that you could now stomach his presence, but he wouldn’t push his luck. Seeing you alone. Hell, even seeing you with someone else, was better than not seeing you at all.
But once thing was clear -- you were someone who would always be in his life, his memories, his heart.
Angel was lost in his thoughts; you were focused on your work. The only thing that gave any indication as to the passage of time in the room where you two found yourselves was the evolution of your playlist passing through tracks.
Isn’t that how it always was with Angel? Time stood still.
As you finished his tattoo, you snapped a quick pic for your work Insta -- and maybe, selfishly, for yourself, to admire, too. It’s true, what you had felt all those months ago, and again a week ago -- Angel Reyes was your muse.
Made to be admired in perpetuity.
You cleaned and wrapped it, pushing back wordlessly from your seat and making your way to the front as Angel gingerly tugged his shirt back over his head. Quoting the rate over your shoulder, you put Angel's aftercare bag together. But not before slipping the lime sticky in.
“Is that it?” Angel asked, arriving at the front counter, kutte once again in place..
“C’mon, Angelito, you know you get the friends-and-family rate,” you shrugged.
"And is that what we are, querida? Friends?” Angel's voice had none of the bravado it held when he had first spoken these words to you the day you'd met. Now it was cotton soft and carefully tinged with hope. He leaned over the counter.
You shrugged again.
"I guess we'll see, won't we?" You tilted the corner of your lips in a gentle, wan half-smile.
"One day with you, and already friends again?” Angel breezed. You shrugged lightly in response, as he continued, “Or maybe the day after that? A man can hope, Frida."
“You know what they say, Angelito,” your voice was soft, but he’d recognize the teasing lilt anywhere. He’d heard it so often at the breaking dawn of your relationship. Kindness, with a hint of subtle flirtation. It was just how you were. “Hope springs eternal.”
Angel nodded, tossing a few bills on the counter and gently rapping his ringed-knuckles against the counter, a he was wont to do. He smiled gently at you, all glimmering white teeth and high cheeks.
As Angel walked away, head down and focused on his phone now as he headed out the door and toward his bike, you watched him leave. Your elbow on the counter and head propped in your hand.
You wondered when Angel would discover the sticky, recalling the words you had written on it.
my stark moments of clarity
between hazy and woebegone memory
(thanks to spilled red wine) --
are still marked
by the firm hand of your bruising ardor.
Your phone buzzed, breaking you from your reverie as you looked down at the name flashing on the screen, an easy grin blooming across your features.
“Well, hey,” you greeted. Unable to keep the happy chirp from your voice at hearing from him again so soon.
“Hey, mama,” he greeted in that smooth, throaty rasp of his you adored. “You busy later?”
---
Tagging: @cinewhore @superhoeva @blessedboo @rebeccasficrecs @themarcusmoreno @joannasteez @justanotherblonde23 @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @huliabitch @ifimayhaveaword @flightlessangelwings @phoenixhalliwell @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @steeeeeeeviebb @ciriswife @witching-hour @lo-la-bu-ro @doloreschanal @rosieposie0624 @diaryofkali @skyesthebomb @artsymaddie @helli4nthus @xonickibaby @melancholyy-hill @jeonsblackgf-writes @dyke--grayson @pettyprocrastination @moonlight-prose @velvetmel0n @luckyharley1903 @miss-nori85 @ticosas @withmyteeth @chibsytelford @whatupitshuff @themusingofagothicsoul @the-purity-pen @belowva @mayansxlover @emmaveale123 @maddie-georges @kijahslove @supertiffybee @jettia @spnaquakindgdom @abysshaven @starrynite7114 @thesandbeneathmytoes @cyarikashakira @calif0rnia-lovers
#loved you once#it's here#loved you once part two#and it's SO LONG#i'm SO SORRY#angel reyes x reader#angel reyes x you#angel reyes x frida#angel x frida#angel reyes x oc#angel reyes x fem!reader#angel reyes agnst#angel reyes smut#mayans mc fic#mayans fic#mayans mc#mayans#angel reyes#clayton cardenas#my writing#rachel reynolds#angel reyes headcanon
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Actually, here is an alternative thing for you to occupy your time with, and a question I have been meaning to ask you for a while.
I have finished 911 finally! So I'm ready for the new season. And I wonder, realistically, what do you think the roadmap would be for a buddie endgame?
I absolutely see how their story has been framed and filmed in a lot of parallels to how a romantic storyline would be set out. But there has been no outright mention of either of them being bi - although the conversation about Maddy setting Buck up with whassisface was very casual and could very easily have been an example of canonically bi Buck - and they are both at the end of season 4 in 'relationships' with women.
So, in your estimation, what's the timeline? What's the transition? How do they go about this and how long does it take? I wanna know your thoughts 👀
okay yes i have lots of thoughts on this and it's actually one of my fave questions i get asked. I've always watched a lot of tv shows so I'm just estimating on what I've seen before and what I would personally do. IMO this love story is a slow burn. We only have four seasons so far and only three of those seasons have Eddie in them. This unsurprisingly got long so ill put it under the cut.
So I'll go by seasons bc to me its important to look at everything that has happened so far by seasons and by love interests and not as a whole. Its the best way i can form a timeline that I think would make the most sense and why
S1: So we don't get any hints at Buck being anything other than straight and I think this is because he was supposed to be. They hadn't planned for Eddie yet and they definitely hadn't planned for the chemistry Oliver and Ryan were gonna have. S1 Buck was this reckless kid who didn't take anything serious. He was definitely super immature. Then he meets Abby and he starts to get serious about his job and his love life. I'm not gonna say "Abby changed him" because she didnt. He saw the person he was and the person he was becoming and decided on that change himself.
S2: Eddie!!!! So we get introduced to this army medic turned firefighter in the least heterosexual way. Then Buck is angry because Eddie is hot and really good at his job. they work together and Eddie compliments Buck and now they're smiley bffs. Seriously wtf was all that? Anyway this is all sus bc from what ive seen before in other shows when a main love interest leaves and a new main character replaces them, that means something. JLH replaced Connie Britton as far as big name actress but i really believe Eddie replaced Abby as far as importance in Buck's life. Do i think they brought him in with the intentions of turning him into a LI? No but they sure fueled the narrative from the get go. I think they saw fans reactions and started testing the waters.
Moving on to LIs in this season. We find out Eddie has a kid and the mother is not in the picture (eddie made sure buck knew that right away). Then later on we find out he's technically still married. shannon comes back and we get Eddie finally getting to confront this head on. He tries to get his family back together for the sake of his son. Its big for Eddie's character bc all he does and all he's ever done is for his son. Then Shannon asks for a divorce then she dies bringing this arc to an abrupt end and leaving eddie heartbroken.
meanwhile Buck is still waiting for Abby. Then he finally accepts that shes not coming back and decides to move on. He goes right back to being "Buck 1.0" with Taylor and feels bad about himself because that really isnt him anymore. He wants a real relationship. So then Ali calls and asks him on an actual date and he agrees. This is his first try at a relationship after a heartbreak. in tv these don't usually work out but are used to develop the main character's growth. We don't really see much of her but she breaks up with him so.
S3: This is Eddie finally dealing with his feelings/guilt season. This is also the season I think we really see how important Buck is to the Diaz boys. S2 had cute buckley-diaz family moments but those could still be interpreted as a best friend and his best friend's kid. This season though... after the tsunamic episode was when i really started to fully believe buddie was going canon. This season is solidifying their bond not only as Buck and Eddie but as Buck Eddie and Christpher. As I'm writing this I realized neither of them really has a love interest in this season do they? Ana is introduced but then is clearly presented as definitely NOT the right choice for eddie and especially for Chris. Then they counter that with Buck helping Eddie build a skateboard for Chris that he can use as opposed to Ana's ablest remarks about how he can't do it so just move on to something else. Then we get Buck's reaction in Eddie Begins. Buck has seen his team his friends his family get hurt on the job before but he has never reacted the way he did when it was Eddie in danger. Again solidifying just how much these two mean to each other. Don't even get me started on this season being when Eddie changes his will offscreen. Anyway we get Abby back and Buck finally gets the closure from that relationship that he needs to move forward into a serious relationship.
Now S4: jfc s4....IMO this is the only logical season to get the ball rolling on Buddie and they sure did that with 4x14 despite everything else. So i never thought they would be the first serious relationship for each other after the heart break theyve both experienced. It wouldn't be fair to their character developments. Buck tries dating Veronica and that clearly doesnt work but we know hes now open to dating again. We get Buck Begins where we see why Buck is the dare devil he is. The only way he got his parents attention as a kid was to put himself in danger. They bring back taylor and how to they ultimately get together after she friendzones him? She thinks hes in danger and suddenly wants him. As much as i hate it this is really gonna be a relationship where Buck finally stands up for himself and sees his own worth and realizes he deserves more. He deserves someone who sees him and loves him for who he is. He deserves to be chosen, something Abby Ali his parents dont do and what i think taylor wont end up doing. I feel like shes gonna choose her career over him. Maybe not in a "I'm breaking up with you" way but maybe she takes a new job and want to do LD (hes tried that twice and it didnt work for him. hes not gonna want that) or she could ask him to go with her but he wont. His family is in LA. His job is in LA. Eddie and Chris are in LA and he won't leave them. Then we have Eddie finally deciding to move on and try dating again so they bring back ana. To me it's not gonna work out so I'm not bothered at all lmao. It's interesting that they'd choose her though. Someone we already know Eddie doesn't trust with his son. There's also more buckley-diaz family scenes of them being coparents. The hildy episode, Chris running to Buck when hes mad at eddie, Buck being the one to tell Chris Eddie got hurt, then Buck staying with Chris and taking on the guardian role without him even knowing just how much that role really does belong to him. He didn't do it out of obligation. He didn't do it because he was asked to. He did it because he thought it would be best for Chris. Finally to 4x14. This is by far the biggest "Oh shit this is it. This is the beginning of buddie". We find out Eddie changed his will a year ago and has just been sitting on this info. I think Eddie knew back then what it meant but he wasn't in the right mindset to accept what it means so he kept it to himself. I think he finally started allowing himself to go there during treasure hunt. The man was jealous yall. Carla coming back and her comment about doing whats best for him and not chris is his oh shit moment. I think he wouldve broken up with Ana a few days after that if he had the time lol. He gets caught up in the mother/son sl then this poor mf gets shot by a sniper. The way that whole scene was filmed btw was not in a bff way. That was a lover watching his beloved almost die in front of him. Buck again puts himself down and Eddie decides this is the moment. He needs Buck to see how important he is. He wants buck to know how loved he is. So he sits there talking himself up to it and finally lets Buck know just how big of a part he is in Eddie's family. Buck's previous scene is him saying he wants someone who wants him back then here is Eddie saying he needs him...Chris needs him. wtf.
So with S5: I think Eddie knows and Buck has a feeling but he's not sure so what i would do is spend s5 with Eddie basically showing Buck his feelings but not exactly getting in the way of Buck's new relationship because Buck has to be the one to make that choice. Id also have chris feeling the different shift with buck having a gf like he did with Eddie. This newfound info wasnt just dropped on us for a "Aww so sweet" moment. This will business is gonna be a part of a bigger storyline. I'm hoping its with Eddie's family during maybe 5b.
So what I think would be the best timeline for canon buddie is 5a eddie already having either broken up with ana or is gonna break up with her, Buck choosing himself and ending things with Taylor by midseason finale, them bringing in Eddie's family in 5b and maybe then being when Eddie confesses his feelings for Buck. Then 6a we could get them walking on egg shells around each other not really knowing what to do bc this is all so new for both of them. This could bring just the right amount of comedy and angst especially them awkward and flustered around each other at work. A big blowup can happen between them for added angst (maybe an arguement before one of them or both of them is put in danger) then a midseason finale kiss. Then trying to find the balance between their personal relationship and their work relationship during 6b.
I don't know how long Fox shows last but procedurals can last a long time. I'm not sure thats gonna be the case for 911 especially with all the main cast staying that long so i think this would give us at least a whole season (S7) of canon buddie.
As far as then being presented as straight, there's been more seeds planted about buck being bi. A few i can remember off the top of my head: all of 2x1 lmao, maddie's comment about bucks boy crush on eddie, buck hinting at thinking eddie is cute when he thinks maddie is talking about him, the christmas elf, the comments on the instagram livestream, idk if youve watched it or not but TK's comment to Buck in the crossover episode, and like you mentioned Maddie's casual comment about setting him up with Josh. All we really know about Eddie's love life is he married Shannon when they were young and is trying with Ana so it could turn into a whole storyline for him.
I'm so sorry this is so long and took forever but i I hope i actually answered your question and didnt just get lost in rambles lmao.
#oh god that took me way too long lol#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buddie#911onfox#is this meta?#wtf even is that#buddie meta#??#idk
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Her role in Harvey Dent's past was updated into the currently prominent Two-Face origin: Batman Annual #14 (1990), a story called "Eye of the Beholder."[9] In this story, it is revealed that Dent's father was an abusive alcoholic who would nightly play a game with his young son: "I'll flip a coin: if it's heads, I beat you. Tails, I don't." Dent spends a lifetime burying his rage and resentment, only to discover that the coin was two-headed all along. While Dent is torn between loving and resenting his father, Gilda clearly despises him; she scoffs that after a lifetime of abuse and cruelty, the only thing Dent's father ever gave him was a coin.
Gilda tries to comfort Dent as his sanity deteriorates. She pleads with him when, upon awakening from a nightmare, he races out of their bed in the middle of the night and goes to his office, "where it's safe". After Harvey is disfigured, Gilda visits him in the hospital to try to give him back the coin. It was in his pocket during the trial, and was also hit by some acid, scarring one side of the coin. She last appears in this story right after Two-Face murders his corrupt former assistant, Adrian Fields, tearfully explaining Dent's abuse history to Batman.
Gilda does not reappear until Secret Origins Special # 1,[10] where she (here named Grace) appears on a TV talk show focusing on Gotham's villains. She talks about a time when one of the criminals Dent put away as D.A. returned for revenge by taking her hostage. Two-Face eventually rescued her, beating the ex-con to the point of death, but holding off because Grace demanded he stop. This represents a rare case where Two-Face is not influenced by the coin, but rather by someone else's welfare. She tries once again to appeal to his "good" side, but fails. At the end of the interview, she professes her belief that, one day, Dent would return to her.
Gilda returns in Batman: Two-Face Strikes Twice.[11] Here, she finds herself at odds with her now-ex-husband, as he believes their marriage failed because he was unable to give her children. She later marries Paul Janus, a reference to the Roman god of doors who had two faces, one facing forward, the other backward. Two-Face attempts to frame Janus as a criminal by kidnapping him and replacing him with a stand-in, whom Two-Face "disfigures" with makeup to make it look as if Janus has gone insane just as Two-Face had. Two-Face is eventually caught by Batman and sent away, and Gilda and Janus reunite. Years later, Gilda gives birth to twins named James and Luke, prompting Two-Face to escape once more and take the twins hostage, as he erroneously believes them to be conceived by Janus using an experimental fertility drug. The end of the book reveals a surprise twist; Batman learns from Gilda that Janus is not the father of Gilda's twins - Dent is. Some of his sperm had been frozen after a death threat had been made against him, and she used some of it to get pregnant. Batman uses this information to convince Dent to free the twins and turn himself in.[12]
Post-Zero HourEdit

Gilda Dent destroying incriminating evidence against her husband Harvey Dent in Batman: The Long Halloween. Art by Tim Sale.
After the events of Zero Hour: Crisis in Time, Gilda's entire history has been revised. She has a larger role and story arc in The Long Halloween,[13] a maxi-series that is part of Two-Face's origin in Batman Annual #14. During the nearly year-long story, a serial killer called Holiday systematically murders prominent gangsters. During the series, Gilda's marriage to Dent shows signs of strain; she wants to settle down and start a family, while he is obsessed with capturing Holiday. In a private monologue at the end, Gilda states that she was the original Holiday killer, having committed all of the murders up until New Year's Eve. Gilda indicates that Dent murdered Alberto Falcone on New Year's Eve, taking her place, and that he was the one responsible for the crimes from that point on. The confession is only known to readers, since Alberto confessed to all the Holiday murders upon his capture. Gilda destroys the evidence of her crimes and leaves Gotham City.
Due to the success of The Long Halloween, the events of the story have generally been accepted into continuity as the "official" story of Batman's early years, given that Zero Hour retconned the events of Batman: Year Two and rendered them non-canonical. In Batman: Dark Victory, the Calendar Man is about to reveal Holiday's true identity, but an enraged Two-Face cuts him off.
In Greg Rucka's novelization of Batman: No Man's Land, Dent thinks that Gilda is dead.
Post Infinite CrisisEdit
In the "One Year Later" story arc Batman: Face the Face, Dent mentions Gilda when recalling his past life, but the Two-Face persona states "No, Harvey. She's gone now".
During Dick Grayson's tenure as Batman, she appears standing over a wounded Harvey Dent. The Riddler reveals that she faked her death and was institutionalized following The Long Halloween, where she met Mario Falcone, who suffered a similar breakdown following the event of Dark Victory. After getting involved upon their release, Falcone kept Gilda like a prisoner, and she conspired with the Riddler to steal Two-Face's coin and entice him to rescue her. Knowing that Falcone was on Dent's tail, Gilda faked Harvey's death by appearing to shoot him at point-blank range. When they were finally reunited, she explained how much she missed him, and that she now believed in Two-Face as well as Harvey Dent. Feeling betrayed and manipulated, Two-Face tried to kill her, but hesitated, only to be stopped by Batman. To save Harvey, she shot Batman with a .22, knocking him out and allowing them both to escape. Her ultimate fate remains unknown, and Dick even expressed doubt that she was in fact the real Gilda Dent.[14]
New 52Edit
In the New 52 reboot, Gilda is a socialite that Bruce Wayne introduces to Harvey at a graduation party. She is killed in front of Harvey by Erin McKillen.
Other versionsEdit
FlashpointEdit
In the alternate timeline of the Flashpoint event, Harvey Dent has a wife and twin children. When the Joker kidnaps Dent's children, Mrs. Dent is emotional while her husband asks Thomas Wayne (the Batman of this timeline) for help in their search.[15]
In other mediaEdit
FilmEdit
A Victorian era version of Gilda appears briefly, without dialogue, in the animated adaptation of Gotham by Gaslight.
Gilda appears in the two part animated film Batman: The Long Halloween, voiced by Julie Nathanson.[16] In this version of events, Gilda takes the blame as the Holiday Killer, motivated by her anger at the Falcones after she had a past relationship with Alberto that ended with Falcone ending the marriage and forcing Gilda to get an abortion of her and Alberto's child.
TelevisionEdit
A character analogous to Gilda, Grace Lamont, appeared in Batman: The Animated Series, voiced by Murphy Cross. In the episode "Two-Face", she is D.A. Harvey Dent's fiancée. Alongside Dent's best friend Bruce Wayne, she watches helplessly as Dent loses his grip on sanity while going after gangster Rupert Thorne. After Dent is disfigured and becomes Two-Face, Thorne plots to use Grace against his new rival. A couple of Thorne's men disguise themselves as police officers and offer Grace a handheld tracking device, in case Two-Face ever approaches her. Two-Face eventually does, bringing her to his lair and wearing a scarf to cover his scars. She nearly succeeds in persuading Two-Face to reform, when Thorne's men show up, revealing that Grace inadvertently betrayed him. Nevertheless, Grace helps Batman and Two-Face fight off Thorne's men, and remains by his side as he is taken into custody with Thorne.
MiscellaneousEdit
Grace returned to animated continuity in the comic series The Batman and Robin Adventures issues # 1 and # 2, where the Joker manipulates Two-Face into thinking that Grace and Bruce are having an affair.[17] Two-Face abducts her and tries to kill Robin, but is ultimately thwarted when Grace jabs the jagged edge of the scarred coin into the disfigured side of his face. The story ends with the implication that their relationship is now damaged beyond repair.
Grace appears again in The Batman and Robin Adventures issue #22, in which Two-Face's life is thrown into chaos when he loses his coin during an unplanned breakout from Arkham Asylum, and is forced to replace it with a quarter. Little Jonni Infantino, the mastermind behind the breakout, threatens to hurt Grace if Two-Face doesn't provide information on one of Rupert Thorne's thugs, Weird Tony Hendra, whom Two-Face prosecuted as Harvey Dent.
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Silver Linings
So... I’ve actually had this fic pretty much complete for weeks now, but I recently got motivated to polish it up and share it here, for... well... I’m not sure why, and honestly there may be many motivating factors, but... anyway, here it is.
I hope you enjoy it.
Note: Like pretty much every Elena of Avalor fanfic by me, this one takes place in my Tales of the Ever Realm AU. To give a bit of context on what it is, it’s basically an AU where all of Sofia the First is canon, and all of Elena of Avalor episodes until Snow Place Like Home (in terms of ‘timeline order’) are canon. Details and characters from later episodes will sometimes be used, but there are many important differences between my fic AU and canon.
One of those, as will be clear from reading this fic, is that in this AU, Ash Delgado has a genuinely and healthily loving relationship with both her husband and daughter (although we really only get to see the former in this one) and also is just a much better person in general, though still with a few traits of her canon self. I hope you will enjoy it for what it is, and I apologize in advance to those who happen to prefer the canon versions of her character and her relationships.
Also, I tried my best to make this fic strong enough to stand on its own, but I realize a few details may still come across as confusing. I apologize for that in advance as well. If you’d like any sort of clarification, please feel free to ask.
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Note #2: There is some stuff in this fic that can be seen as slightly suggestive. Nothing full-blown NSFW, but still, there is a bit of steaminess. Those who aren’t particularly fond of such content want to tread carefully. I may be worrying too much over nothing, but... I feel it’s better to be safe than sorry.
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Note #3: Although I tried my best to make it strong enough to be read on its own, this fic works better read as a sequel to @lostbutterflyutau‘s fic The Second Navidad, which she wrote for me as a Christmas gift last Christmas, and which I liked so much that I decided to make it canon to my fic universe. If you’d like to read it, I strongly recommend it.
And on that note, I say the same thing regarding all of her Elena of Avalor fics. They're full of well-written characters, great portrayals of feelings of all kinds, and wonderfully fluffy moments of the romantic, the friendship, and the familial kinds. I strongly recommend them all. Also, if you read them and like them, please take the time to leave her some feedback, even if it's only a few words. Remember that taking even only a few seconds to give feedback leads to better environments for fanworks of all kinds.
With that said... let us begin.
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Silver Linings
The Kingdom of Norberg, February 14th, Year 9222 of the Ever Realm Calendar…
A series of sharp knocks cut through the cabin’s main room, making Ash Delgado jump in her chair as the sound brought her struggle with her focus to an abrupt end, ruining her already feeble efforts at forcing herself to study the weathered yellow page she held, trying beyond her best to find a solution to the dilemma she’d been struggling with for over a year.
One of her hands slammed the page against the table as her other one reflexively curled around her tamborita; the next instant, her ears picked up the last few knocks that rapped against the wooden boards. Her heart settled down as the force and rhythm behind the sounds told her who had arrived, drawing a relieved sigh from her as she released the drum wand’s handle. Ash looked up at the closed door on cue with its lock clicking as a key was turned inside it. The next moment, the door drew inwards, making her grimace at the chilly air that entered the cabin, followed soon after by her husband.
“I’m home!” Victor announced as he closed the door behind him, before wiping a few fresh snowflakes off his shoulders and setting down a bag of canvas he’d been carrying.
Then, as his eyes fell on her, still by the table she’d been sitting at since he left - though now with layers of pages scattered over its surface - a sheepish smile uneasily crawled across his features.
“Did I interrupt anything?”
A mock-annoyed smirk curling her lips, Ash teased, “Not this time.”
Besides, even if he had, his loud arrival was one of the safety norms that they and their daughter had established for whenever they stayed anywhere: to always make their presence known when arriving, to ensure they conveyed they weren’t any unexpected visitor.
Still, the sheepish look remaned on Victor’s features as he unclasped his cloak and hung it on a hook beside the door, before walking over towards her. Smiling at him, Ash reached up to his face and settled her hand on his jawline as he rested his’ between her shoulder blades, closing her eyes as the two of them leaned towards each other and put their lips together. Cold seeped into her fingers as the mixed smell of salty air, tobacco smoke, cooked bacon and burned wood floated into her nostrils, but Ash kept her fingers on his face and pressed her lips further into his’, holding both her touch and her kiss for a few more seconds.
Then, as she and Victor both pulled away and she opened her eyes, a faint chuckle bubbled up her throat at the sight she beheld.
Victor blinked in puzzlement. “What?”
Suppressing another chuckle, Ash explained, “Your mouth is full of lipstick.”
Again. She inwardly added, as pointless as it was. Victor’s mouth or face ending up full of lipstick when they kissed was as big a given as water being wet or as the sun rising everyday. But Ash liked her makeup in the style she wore it, and she knew that for all his playful grumbling, Victor also did.
Giving an easygoing chuckle himself, Victor reached up with his free hand and rubbed it across his mouth, the faint dark-blue sparks she saw flying from his fingertips telling her what he was trying to do. Alas, the final results were different from the intended, the smear on his lips only spreading further across his face, bringing a stronger chuckle out of her.
“Here,” she said, removing her own hand from his jawline, silvery-grey sparks swarming around her fingers. “I’ll do it for you.”
Saying so, she swept her magic-filled hand over his face, the smudges of lipstick vanishing in her fingers’ wake.
“I guess this just shows I still need more practice,” he said good-naturedly as he straightened himself, caressing her ponytail along the way.
He glanced around the room as he righted himself, then turned back to her and asked, “Did Carla leave already?”
“Princess Chloe asked her to go early,” Ash explained. “Apparently so the two of them can properly help Queen Abigail get ready for her date with King Hector. And Carla said that because she was spending the night at the palace anyway, she might as well stay over already.”
Nodding in acknowledgment, Victor walked over to her right and pulled up the chair beside her, sinking onto it with a pensive look on his face, the expression looking more pronounced thanks to his placement against the lit fireplace that burned a few feet away. Ash knew without having to ask that he was having a bout of the same struggle they had both endured since Carla had unintentionally struck up a friendship with the princess of Norberg. On one hand, it was good that Carla had made a friend, at least for the duration of their stay here. On the other, Norberg was a close ally to Avalor, and even if wanted posters of him and Carla hadn’t made it here yet (and weren’t likely to be sent now that neither of them had been to Avalor for over a year), it could still happen, especially given that Princess Chloe was at least a friendly acquaintance of Princess Elena. Or then, the Crown Princess of Avalor or someone closely associated with her could unexpectedly drop by and recognize him or Carla, which would at best mean they’d have to leave, and at worst might literally spell their dooms. And that was assuming none of their more dangerous enemies was lurking in the shadows, planning something that Ash could easily conceive as far more horrible than anything Princess Elena would ever do to them if she caught them.
But Carla knew she needed to be careful, and the three of them were making sure to keep an eye on anyone who seemed suspicious, just like their jaquin allies were doing. With luck, Carla’s friendship with Princess Chloe would just keep going without incident during their final two weeks or so in Norberg.
“How did things go at the harbor?” Ash brought up, out of genuine interest as much as out of a wish to change subjects.
The deepening of Victor’s frown answered her question well enough, but still, he replied, “Not very well. There weren’t many sailors there, it being the day it is and all, and most of those I found were more interested in drowning their sorrows or seeking other forms of consolation than in talking about some mysterious kingdom.” As he caught sight of Ash’s own frown, he added, “No thanks to it being the day it is, I guess. After all, it was the same thing during Sweetheart’s Day in Avalor.”
Though that didn’t make her feel any better, Ash gave him a reassuring smile. After all, it wasn’t his fault that today was Valentine’s Day - or Dia del Amor y la Amistad, as her parents had called it, due to it being the holiday’s name in both Paraiso and Cordoba. Most sailors who’d ordinarily be in taverns or at the harbor were likely to be with their girlfriends or wives or families, and those that weren’t would either be too busy with work or too sullen at their lack of companionship to be in a chatty mood.
“Was any sailor at all willing to talk?” she probed.
Victor shrugged.
“Some were. But most of those couldn’t tell me anything about that place, and the only two that could didn’t tell me anything we don’t already know.” He stopped, his eyes clouding over as he mentally sorted out his words. “They said that that kingdom looks clean and calm enough from a distance, and the rulers seem friendly enough, but there’s just something under its surface that doesn’t quite make it an inviting place, and anyone going farther than the harbor automatically needs a full guard unit escorting them because of the land’s perils.” His frown deepened even further, his eyes narrowing to the point they seemed to turn into two black holes thanks to the shadows from the fireplace. “In a sense, it’s like a more extreme version of what I heard Avalor was like under Shuriki’s rule.”
Ash pursed her lips, the mere reference to that woman’s name making her temper flare. She might have come to terms with her husband having fallen for Shuriki’s lie that she could make him and Carla malvagos, but having that daemonfirma brought up in conversation still made her blood boil. Good for her that she was dead, because if Ash had gotten to fight her for a third time, she would have done everything she could to ensure their fight would end with Shuriki having a departure far more painful than the one Princess Elena had given her.
Forcing herself to push aside the hatred that still burned at her, Ash said, “Well, at least we have more evidence that that kingdom is not a place where we want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.” Her heart growing heavier, she added, “Unfortunately, we still need to go there.”
His forehead creasing, Victor gave her a sympathetic look.
“Things also didn’t go well over here then?”
The tiredness and frustration from her mostly wasted afternoon rearing up like a striking snake, Ash let out a long sigh.
“Yes and no,” she settled on.
Victor didn’t even blink at her response, his sympathetic look staying the same as before.
Taking a deep breath to gather herself, she explained, “On the good side, I went over my improved potion recipes again just to be safe, and it held up again. The improvements I made will be enough so that neither of the potions will take quite as many moon cycles to achieve its purpose.” Her heart again grew heavier as she once more realized what it implied, but she forced herself to add, “On the bad side, there still are a few ingredients for both potions that just can’t be replaced with anything found somewhere else.”
Victor’s mouth again started to curl into a frown.
“So… that means…”
Ash nodded.
“There’s no way around a trip to that kingdom that seems out of a mix between a crime novel and a horror story. It’s still the only place where some of the ingredients we need exist, and God knows how long we’ll take to find them all.”
Again, Victor narrowed his eyes so much that the fireplace made it seem like he had two black holes in his eye sockets. Ash narrowed her eyes as well, the weight of the implication hanging over her like a boulder sustained by the finest thread that was about to break. The idea of spending any amount of time in that kingdom was anything but pleasant. And having to stay there for who knew how long (at least a year, to give an optimistic estimate) only made it worse.
“And that’s not all,” Ash forced herself to go on. “It’s not even the worst part.”
Victor sat the tiniest bit straighter, his eyes opening ever so slightly.
“What’s the rest?”
Her answer seemed to swirl around in her throat, as if trying to come out, but unable to find its way to her mouth for some reason. Though she knew Victor wouldn’t judge her or think less of her, and she had never lied to him, admitting to her failures or inabilities was not something she had ever or would ever like. After all, they were failures or inabilities, which Ash had always loathed, even back when she had just been Seentahna.
But despite being a dark wizard, Ash knew how wrong it was to be dishonest, especially to the man she loved, and she knew he felt the same towards her. Neither had ever lied to each other, and she wouldn’t be the one starting now.
“I think we may be doing all of this for nothing,” she at last managed to say.
Reading Victor’s question in the way his eyebrow moved up his forehead, Ash reached towards one of the papers on the table and lifted it aside, exposing a round purple orb around the size of an orange, the orb somehow feeling as heavy in her hand as if it was made of cast iron.
“I can’t know for sure without looking at the Codex Maru, but the more I study this blasted thing, the more unlikely it seems that we will be able to channel its power as we want to, if we manage to fix it in the first place,” she explained as she raised the jewel.
The words forced its way out of her like thick mud mixed with sharp knives. Just having to utter them made her heart sink almost as much as them being true. Another smile dawned on Victor’s lips, his hands moving over and curling around her right hand like a comforting blanket, his thumbs ghosting over her knuckles in a tender caress.
“It’s alright, Pluma,” he whispered. “We can get through this.”
Despite the warmth in both his gaze and voice, the weight in her chest didn’t fade. She wouldn’t give up his support for anything, but what she really needed was a miraculous breakthrough on how to use the Jewel of Night, or on another way to recharge it. Ideally, both. Because as things stood now, achieving even one of her goals seemed borderline impossible. All means to recharge the Jewel of Night that she knew were difficult to put in practice, and many of the ingredients they would need to make both the potion that would repair it and the one that would recharge it (assuming they would manage to find a certain key ingredient for that one) came from plants and animals that had already been rare when she was a child. If even one of those had already gone extinct, they’d be right back where they started, and the Jewel of Night would be good for little more than to place on a shelf as decoration.
And even if they managed to fix it and recharge it, the only thing that might have anything on how to properly siphon its power into them was the Codex Maru, assuming that could be done in the first place. And to get the Codex Maru, they’d need to face Princess Elena, who could wield the Scepter of Light, and her Royal Wizard, who was Alacazar’s grandson and was all but certain to take after his grandfather if he’d managed to defeat a malvago powerful and skilled enough to cast the malvago-making spell on Victor and Carla at the same time and successfully pull it off.
Whoever said malvago was, defeating him would have been an impressive feat for any wizard, but it was all the more so coming from a boy who hadn’t even been eighteen when he did so. And the boy would only have grown more powerful since then. Even now that Victor and Carla had grown much more powerful themselves, Ash knew the three of them would need a good plan and a very healthy amount of luck to get the Codex on their own. And if she had to guess, they would only have one try, because if they got caught, Princess Elena was bound to execute them all.
The thought hitting her like a blasting spell, Ash’s gaze snapped away from Victor, the fear that too often lingered at the bottom of her heart suddenly shooting up to the surface, her eyes wide as if to let it fly out. The next moment, twin caresses ran over the back of her hand, soft despite the roughness of the skin giving them. Though she knew where they came from without needing to look, Ash turned to meet Victor’s eyes, which still glowed with the same warmth.
“Let’s not think about that now,” he said. “Let’s think about something else.”
An empty smile flitted across her face, her gaze turning away from his’. As if drawn to it, her eyes fell on the Jewel of Night, stared into its opaque depths, the emptiness within it seeming to remind her of how difficult their mission was, and yet how they needed to accomplish it if they were to ever be truly at peace. To think Victor made it sound so easy. To put aside something that their lives in a sense literally depended on, as easily as if it was a matter of deciding not to wear clothes they didn’t particularly like.
“I’ve had practice,” he replied as if he had read her mind, a playful smirk on his lips.
Against her wishes, Ash allowed herself a small smile. Quips aside, she knew that must be true. After all, he had managed to keep himself and their daughter alive and safe, despite having very few magical skills before he was made a malvago. More than that, he had managed to raise Carla as happy and well-adjusted as their circumstances allowed, and done a better job of it than she imagined most men and some women would.
But that still didn’t change the main point.
“If we don’t think about it now, we’ll have to think about it later,” she insisted, even as she lowered the hand holding the Jewel of Night.
Her words came out tense, almost solid, but Victor simply kept giving her the same warm smile from before, rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hand again. Then, he rose from his chair and moved to stand behind her, taking his hands to her hair and releasing the knot in her hair tie, the tiniest sense of relief washing over her as a slight pressure left her head, her hair spreading out from its ponytail and cascading free to below the middle of her back. Though she couldn’t see him, she felt Victor smiling as he curled a hand around her hair, his other one gently scratching her scalp. A wider smile breaking through her lips, Ash hummed in delight, leaning back into her chair, guessing what he intended to do. As she expected, Victor lifted her hair so it wouldn’t be stuck between her and the back of the chair, his hands then settling on her head and running over her white locks like a hairbrush, spreading the strands apart and gently easing tangles and knots.
A louder hum flowing through her, Ash tilted her head back as Victor pressed the tips of his fingers to her hairline, before gently but firmly running them back, tension falling apart in their wake as he caressed her scalp.
“I know it’s difficult, Pluma,” he whispered. “Believe me, I had more than enough time to learn it on my own.” His voice shivered the slightest bit at those words, and Ash knew he was remembering his and Carla’s many close escapes over the almost fifteen years she hadn’t been with them. “But we’ll figure out how to use the Jewel of Night.” He ran his fingers over her scalp again. “And even if we don’t, we’ll find some other way to get rid of the Evergrowing Forest.”
Ash chuckled mirthlessly.
“You talk as if the odds are on our side.”
Running his fingers over her scalp once more, he replied, “I’d rather think I talk as someone who chooses to keep on believing things will get better. And as someone who was lucky despite the odds.” He reached downwards and slid his thumbs in a half-circle behind her ears, bringing them forward rubbing them over her cheeks. “And more than once at that.”
Frowning at the second sentence, Ash knitted her eyebrows as he moved his fingers back up to her scalp, rubbing continuous circular motions from her hairline to her nape.
“I was lucky enough to meet you in the first place,” he went on. “I was lucky enough to run into you again and start to know you better. I was lucky enough to reunite with you more than twelve years after losing track of you. And I was lucky enough to reunite with you a second time almost fifteen years after we got separated again. And I could make a longer list.”
Unable to help herself, Ash turned her head even farther upwards, literally smiling up at him as he looked down and gave her a smile of his own.
“I don’t suppose I could argue against that,” she replied.
His hands rubbed just a bit harder across her scalp, a sigh rolling out of her lips as relief surged from his fingertips and rushed through her.
“I was lucky as well,” she added. “On all those accounts, and more.”
Yes. Ash thought, sighing once more as he massaged her scalp again and relief rushed through her being once more.
Despite everything, she had been lucky. Probably luckier than she deserved after everything she had done. Not only for getting to meet Victor and getting to reunite with him a grand total of three times - or two, if she only counted those after they had actually started their relationship - but also for having a wonderful daughter who she loved and who loved her back, and for getting to be with them both and just be able to be a family despite the threats hanging over their heads.
Victor must have read something on her face again, for he said, “So... back to not thinking of unpleasant matters for now… why don’t you put these things away, and I can tell you an idea I’ve had?”
A deep groan rolling from her lips as Victor’s motions suddenly reversed, she fake-glared at him.
“You should know by now that I don’t take orders from anyone.”
She felt his hands temporarily stop their movements as he shrugged.
“I prefer to look at it as an invitation.” His massage still halted, he crouched to whisper in her ear. “Though it’s one I confess I would very much like you to accept, mi amor.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” she breathed as he straightened himself up, a deep sigh flowing out of her. “Very well. What is it?”
“Uh-uh-uh!” he tut-tutted. “I’m not seeing anything put away...”
Her eyes narrowed at his response, a low mock-grumble joining her change in expression. He really knew her a bit too well.
“Watch out, Victor,” she teased. “You don’t want to fall prey to the stereotype that men can’t keep a house.”
He again ran his fingers through her hair, the white locks parting in their wake. “It’s more like I don’t want to go against how you like to be the one putting your own things away, especially when it comes to magical studies.”
Another affected grumble rippled out of her mouth. Again, he knew her too well.
“Very well then,” she conceded, her fingers curling around her tamborita’s handle.
On cue once more, Victor withdrew his hands from her hair and curled them over the sides of her chair, pulling it back exactly as she stood up and drew her drum wand, then aimed it at the table’s surface.
“Llévaluq!” she chanted as she smacked the drum.
Identical silvery-grey glows bloomed around each page spread over the table, as well as around the purple gem she’d been studying for hours. Ash fiddled her fingers as if she was playing a harp; the papers bent and swerved and turned over the table like flying carpets before settling into a neat stack, the gathered pile of pages then flying into the shelf behind her with a beckoning motion from her hand. The Jewel of Night followed in their wake with the same gesture, but swerved slightly to the right and upwards, stopping its course once it hovered above a small, seemingly ordinary light yellow jar with rectangular Maruvian patterns of a darker shade over its surface.
She directed a look at Victor as she held the jewel in place. The next instant, he drew his own tamborita and aimed it at the jar.
“Piikrete tarruyniu waaygico!” he chanted, punctuating each word with a smack on the tamborita.
After the last smack resounded through the cabin, a dark-blue glow bloomed around the drum as Victor raised his hand, the jar’s lid floating about a foot off and allowing Ash to slide the Jewel of Night in. Hearing the low clatter of it landing, she holstered her tamborita as Victor lowered his hand, setting the lid on its place.
Sliding his tamborita into its own holster, Victor turned to her with a smile, reaching out with his left hand. “Now, where were we?”
Taking his hand, Ash replied. “You were about to make an invitation.”
He raised his arm in response, in time with Ash twirling in place, her hair fanning out as she completed her spin and then stepped towards Victor’s chest as he drew her to him, wrapping both arms around her as he settled his lips on her neck.
“I was thinking…” he halted his words to kiss her neck “...that you could wait here while I run you a nice warm bath…” he kissed a slightly higher spot “... and then you take the time to enjoy it while I cook a special dinner with what I brought…” So that’s what’s in the bag! Ash thought as he kissed below her ear “... and then we could have our second celebration of Dia del Amor y la Amistad.” he finished, tenderly kissing her cheek.
Her eyes widened at the words, her heart leaping slightly in her chest. Their second celebration! Amidst her frayed nerves after repeated failures with the Jewel of Night, she had completely forgotten about that! Not about the celebration they and Carla had had that morning - after all, it had been the first time the three of them properly celebrated Dia del Amor y la Amistad since her return - but about the second celebration that was meant to be just for her and Victor, which they had even talked about more than once over the previous days.
I really need to stop thinking about that jewel if it can make me forget something like that.
Victor chuckled as if she had spoken her words rather than thinking them, the curling of his lips telling her that he was cooking up a joke.
“You know, as far as stereotypes go, it’s men who are said to forget romantic celebrations…” he brought up.
Despite the laugh at his quip, Ash reached back and nudged Victor’s nose with her index finger.
“Watch your tongue, Mister. If I get annoyed, you’re going straight to the couch tonight.”
He gave her a melodramatic gape, put a hand to his chest. “Oh, the horror!...”
Taking her chance, Ash twisted out of his embrace and then pressed herself flush to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and sinking her other hand into his hair as her lips leapt upwards to claim his. He engulfed her in another embrace, resting his hands on her back as their mouths met. For a heartbeat, their lips started to glide over each other’s, both reading the other’s intention to take things slowly. But then, like alcohol meeting a cinder, their passion seemed to explode through their bodies, leaping the frustrations this day had brought them both as their lips devoured each other time and time again, each trying to both drain their pent up tension and help the other with their own, somehow wanting to put out and build the fire flowing between them at the same time. Awareness of everything faded into the background as they devoted every bit of their focus to the flutter of each other’s hands and mouths, to the feeling of each other’s touch, to the warmth of their kisses.
It seemed to last an eternity before they drew apart, looking into each other’s eyes like hypnotized, as if they were floating.
Then, despite herself, Ash burst into chuckles, taking her hand to her lips in a token attempt at suppressing them.
Amusement twinkling in his own eyes, Victor curled an eyebrow and blew through his pursed lips.
“I’m full of lipstick again, right?”
Her suppressed laughter slowly fading, Ash summoned magic into her other hand and waved it over Victor’s face, the lipstick smudges dispelling under the sparks swarming around her fingers.
Lowering her hand as she let the magic fade, Ash drawled, “So… that warm bath?”
“Coming right up,” he replied with a mock-casual tone and a warm smile as he lowered his arms.
Realizing she would need to let him go for him to run her bath, Ash pulled away, following him with her eyes as he headed to their cabin’s small bathroom.
A warm bath sounded nice indeed. While cleansing charms could do the job just as well, and far more quickly, they couldn’t equal the peaceful feeling of sinking into the warm water and feeling it melting the tension from within her, making her stop thinking about the day’s concerns better than the best mind control spell.
It wouldn’t really make them go away, she knew. However good this night was, their concerns wouldn’t become any less real, and the Evergrowing Forest would remain a threat to their lives until they managed to destroy it.
But at least tonight, Ash would enjoy what she had to be thankful for.
#elena of avalor#my fanfiction#tales of the ever realm au#ash delgado#victor delgado#a bit of fluff#some suggestive content#but not too bad i think
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So a few days I posted that I’d outlined my headcanon for Jack’s life up until the events of TWS and I got some good advice to post it. So I prettied it up and fleshed out a few concepts and now I’m throwing it at tumblr
Now, these are just my headcanons, and yes I’m forcing HH into it bc I love the ship and even though it’d never happen in canon, it was fun to kinda toy with the whole “how they met” idea. So yeah, here’s this and I’m gonna go lay down lol
I’ll see about doing one for Brock too? Just depends on how long it takes for me to think of stuff up for him.
Jack’s Timeline
• Jack Rollins was born in 1974 to John and Leanne Rollins in the mountains of Colorado, right outside of a major city
• At the time of his birth he was their fifth son but would end up being the middle sibling of nine
◦ The reason Jack’s parents had so many children was because Leanne had grown up an only child and recalled how lonely it was. She never wanted her kids to be lonely so she decided she wanted a lot of them. Originally, she’d planned to stop at five but Leanne and John decided they wanted to keep trying until they had a girl.
• Jack’s siblings consist of:
‣ Matthias - 1964
‣ Titus and T.J. - 1966
‣ Lawson - 1970
‣ Cooper - 1980
‣ Benjamin - 1982
‣ Samuel - 1983
‣ Annalise - 1985
• Jack was born premature and doctors didn’t think he would survive
◦ Because of this, Leanne favored him and always kept a close eye on him
• During Jack’s early life, his parents thought he may have had a learning disability due to the fact that he rarely, if ever spoke.
◦ It turned out that Jack was selectively mute
• John didn’t take well to this diagnosis and wanted to try to force Jack to speak
◦ He suggested doing this by forcing Jack to verbally ask for things like food, water, bathroom breaks, etc.
‣ Leanne rejected this and instead decided that Jack would be treated by a therapist
• Jack began to speak more in middle school
◦ It started out with asking / answering questions in class, asking to borrow a pencil from classmates, etc.
• By the time Jack was in 8th grade, while still shy, was able to speak with relative ease
• In 1987, when Jack was 13, his mother passed away due to an ongoing heart condition
◦ Because of this, Jack’s family feared he would stop talking again
• While Jack didn’t stop talking, he also didn’t seem to mourn the loss of his mother either
• Concerned with this, John had sent Jack to a new therapist
◦ The new therapist claimed Jack was going through a period of dissociative shock
‣ It took years of therapy and counseling for Jack to open up and properly grieve
• Jack ended up going to a different high school than most of his peers from middle school and had to basically start over.
• For a little while he would keep to himself and didn’t really take the steps to make any new friends
◦ Until three months into the semester when he was paired up to work on an assignment with a boy named Dalton
• Dalton took a liking to Jack and introduced him to the rest of his friend group; consisting of Cole, Braxton, Lucan, and Matt
• The boys grew close together; they would hang out after school together and Jack would go to their drama club performances even though he was too shy to be in one himself.
• During spring break of his freshman year, Jack found out and met Braxton’s two dads, Arthur and Christopher
◦ Before this, Jack had never met a gay couple before
‣ Meeting them sprung questions of Jack’s own sexuality
• When Jack’s dad found out about Braxton’s parents, he reacted very negatively and this scared Jack back into his shell
◦ He rarely spoke to his father about anything after that
• For the entirety of his sophomore year and the majority of his junior year, Jack tried to ignore his sexuality
• Until finally, nearing the end of his junior year, he came out to Arthur and Christopher and asked them for advice
◦ The two of them told Jack he could always confide in them
• At 18, Jack developed a crush on a new student who’d moved to Colorado from Los Angeles
• This boy’s name was Christian and the two of them began to date soon after meeting
• Jack told Christian that he didn’t want to go public about their relationship, basically stating he liked to keep his personal life private
◦ Christian agreed not to say anything
• The two of them dated for a few months but that all came to a screaming halt during winter break
• Christian had gone over to the Rollins’ home asking for him and responded with “Jack’s boyfriend” when John asked Christian who he was.
• John was absolutely livid and kicked Jack out without a second thought.
◦ Jack and Christian got into a huge argument over this and broke up due to it
• Jack’s uncle, Mike, had offered a place for Jack to stay
◦ He slept on Mike’s couch for the final semester of his senior year
• Once Jack graduated, he enlisted in the Marines and disappeared without telling his family anything.
• Six weeks into boot camp, he’d given into the guilt and wrote letters to T.J., who was the only one of his siblings who still spoke to him, as well as his uncle
• While in the Marines, Jack pretty much shed his childhood shyness entirely and grew to be more self confident.
◦ He also became a trained sniper and demolitions expert
• In late 2000, Jack was in an unfortunate accident while on deployment that left him blind in his left eye
◦ Because of this, Jack was discharged
• After being discharged, with pretty much nowhere to go, Jack spent 9 months on the streets.
◦ But in August of 2001, when Jack was 27, an agent got in contact with him and told Jack he worked for a government funded agency that recruited and rehabilitated veterans for reenlistment.
• Jack agreed to sign a contract and go with this agent
• During training, which was long and grueling, he met a man named Ellison Lomack and the two of them quickly became friends.
• Jack spent five years going on missions for this agency, assuming that he was once again an active duty Marine
• In 2006 he was given the opportunity to be brought onto an elite STRIKE team that could earn him up to $95,000 a year.
◦ Jack was chosen to be the Second in Command of STRIKE Team Alpha
• His orientation to this team was when he’d found out he was part of HYDRA
• Being told, essentially, that he would either continue working or be killed, Jack chose the former
• Being the chosen SIC, Jack had to go through extra training and bonding with the STRIKE team’s commander, Brock Rumlow
◦ Brock told Jack when they first met; “I trust you with my life, you gotta learn to trust me with yours.”
• In the first few months, Brock was almost glued to Jack’s hip any time they were at work or in the field
◦ Including times when Jack was diffusing bombs, which freaked Jack out
• Over time, Brock and Jack began to work together like a well oiled machine, Jack’s calm and calculating personality working well with Brock’s brazen and abrasive one.
• And in 2009, while drinking after a highly successful mission, Brock and Jack had drunk sex in the hotel room of the British Prime Minister, hardly slipping away before they got caught
• Jack began to recognize his feelings for Brock after this night but refused to pursue anything, feeling as though it would be safer to preserve their established relationship
◦ Everything pretty much went back to normal
• Two years passed and their relationship grew stronger, but never took a romantic turn. Until one night on a particularly difficult mission where everything had gone tits up and they only had 24 hours to fix it.
◦ Brock is stressed out about it and laments that he isn’t afraid to die, but admits he wished he could’ve spent more time with Jack before he did
• Brock and Jack share a kiss under the stars in a desert and fuck on the hood of their military issued Jeep while their team sleeps in a safe house 20 feet away.
• After this mission, that they were able to pull off by the skin of their teeth, Brock and Jack make things official.
◦ Both of them lead relatively private lives and don’t make it known to the rest of the team that they’re seeing each other
• Three years pass and six months before Project Insight, Brock brings up the idea of getting married for the sake of spousal immunity just in case things don’t go as planned.
◦ So they get married, something simple at the court house and neither of them change their names.
• Afterward, Brock and Jack are living happily as a married couple and they fantasize about what kind of life they hope to share when Insight goes through and they’re finally free from HYDRA’s demanding grip
• Project Insight comes along and Brock and Jack meet the infamous Winter Soldier
• Project Insight launches and things go horribly wrong
• Brock splits up with Jack at the Trisk, telling Jack to head back out and that he’d meet him outside.
◦ Initially, Jack follows the instructions given. But a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach has him turning around to go and get Brock
• The helicarriers crash into the building and Jack gets caught beneath the rubble
• He’s stuck there for two days before he finally succumbs and the entire time, all he could do was fiddle with his ring and think about Brock.
#mcu#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#headcanons#hydra husbands#rumrollins#jack rollins#brock rumlow#crossbones#jack doesn't get a happy ending#idk why i just guess i wanted to suffer#i like to think that he got out of insight alive and lead a happy life in hiding#but that probably didn't happen#doin myself a sad
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V.8: Tangled Verses
V.8A ( collecting stars and dreams );
Pre-Queen for a Day
Lady Allison Jones. It’s a name that not many people would think twice about. Which was exactly the point of her name. The name ‘Jones’ has been passed through her family for generations, as well as her status as a Lady. After all, who would think someone named ‘Jones’ was actually a descendant of Lord Demanitus?
Scrolls and notebooks all written in code, passed down through her father’s line until they eventually ended up in her arms. Alice has been given a rather important task: mean nothing to the world, be polite, give no one reason to look at her strangely.
For someone else? That might be easy. For Alice? It’s a bit harder. After all, she fell through, what she thought was a rabbit hole, and spent a bit too long in a strange place of nonsense, where she happened to met a woman with seemingly intense powers. While Alice was too young to truly understand it all, and while it’s a bit hard for her to remember it all, you can often find her still talking about ‘wonderland’, the ‘queen’ who wanted nothing more but to ‘cut off her head’, and she always says to never trust a Cheshire grin. Strange, isn’t it?
V.8B ( shine brighter than the sun );
Stardrop Verse
Here’s the Link to the OG post! Nothing has really changed except that Alice’s family history now follows 8A.
V.8C ( woke up into a nightmare );
Post Canon-Adult
Follows Verse 8A, unless tagged with 8B. Alice is now an adult, and yet it feels like nothing has changed. She’s still struggling with her home life, and her mother is still as terrible as always. While Alice is being perused by a young man named Daniel (whom she despises), Alice is preparing for her own final test to prove she herself is worth being a guard.
V.8D ( they’ll pay if it happens again );
Saporia’s Role
Everything happens the same until Queen for a Day: Varian ends up trying to get Rapunzel’s help with the Amber, however, She doesn’t help him (Just as in canon). He goes back & Ends up trying to free his dad himself but instead gets himself trapped in the Amber. Cue Alice finding him, and trying to get Rapunzel to help, again She doesn’t. She has to put the whole of the kingdom first. Alice does not fight Rapunzel, instead, she starts planning things, and then Rapunzel leaves on her journey to find her Destiny. Alice spends this time working, and studying up on Alchemy, and trying to figure out what exactly Varian used.
Alice ends up in jail a few months later due to stealing stuff from the castle, more specifically she finds her way in and steals the flower. She ends up in the same cell as Andrew. She’s already figuring out how to escape, but they end up talking. He offers his assistance in freeing Varian and Quirin since none of her attempts have worked, He also promises a chance to get back at Rapunzel & co. Alice accepts, saying that she’s in charge though. And Proves her point by using her vorpal blade to get them out of their prison cell. (It’s magical, of course she still has it).
They end up taking over the kingdom, Alice leading and planning things out the whole time. Unlike Varian, Alice actually is in charge due to her sword, her skills, and her lack of obvious remorse over hurting people.
>Verse will change depending on if Rapunzel returns, and if Rapunzel is willing to help Alice
>Possible variant of verse: Rapunzel frees Varian and his father before stopping the Saporians, meaning that Alice is still in charge of the kingdom
>Can take place during any point within this timeline
V.8E ( pull your knife out of my back );
Season Two / Early Season three
Alice had been turned away from the guards every time she attempted to see Varian, leaving her feeling lost and a bit hurt. However, she didn’t give up on him. Not until he was suddenly taking over the kingdom, and working with the Saporians. Alice attempted to talk to him, only to be taken away by a few saporians (ordered by Andrew) to the mines, where she was forced to work for three days without breaks or food. (Varian did not know about this).
After the first episode of season three, Alice no longer trusts Varian, and believes it was him who forced her out of his life, and believes that he betrayed HER trust. She is very upset, and is not willing to talk things out, she’s angry, and depressed and feels alone. She’s not willing to trust ANYONE again (besides Feldspar). However, she still believes there’s good in him, and wishes she could trust him again. It will not take much to befriend her again, but a sincere apology and perhaps a bit of bribery by sweet treats may sway her back to his side. (How can she ever deny being such a sweet boy’s friend?)
V.8F ( i will guard you with my life );
Adopted Verse
Rumors circulated Old Corona, that Helen Kingsleigh was hurting her daughter. Quirin, being in charge, ended up looking into the manner, and found the rumors to be true, although he couldn’t prove it. The daughter was easily given up, with Helen claiming she couldn’t take care of all three children. Taking the young girl home, he found himself unsure what to do. He already a three year old son, and had recently lost his wife- he couldn’t take care of another child. He called upon the Captain of the Guard, who came and met the four year old Alice, deciding to take her in himself.
Alice grew up alongside Cassandra ( @moonstonetm ), whom she looked up and admired greatly. However, Alice also finds herself constantly comparing herself to her sister, and finds herself increasingly jealous of Cass. Her love for her sister is never a question, but she tends to act out in order to try and get attention in any way she can from her sister (typically at Cass’ expense). These dark feelings have come from the voice in her head has been telling her to not trust her for a VERY long time. While Alice tries to ignore the voice, it constantly seems to want her to distrust her sister. These has caused a small rift in their relationship, which might only get worse with time.
In this AU, Alice is being trained to be a guard as well, and while she is excellent, and even exceeding, at swordsmanship, she does not have the temperament or attention span to be a guard. However, Alice is still often assigned duties and jobs just as Cassandra is. She is never given an official position, instead she often sneaks out of the castle grounds and into the town, and even to Old Corona sometimes (often getting both her and Cassandra in trouble).
V.8G ( there’s hell to pay );
Role Reversal
Alice is a brilliant young inventor and alchemist, living with her father in Old Corona. Her favorite pastime is decoding the notebooks and scrolls kept in the safe in their basement, and she adores attempting to rebuild the blueprints she finds. Sure, her father tells her it’s best to not do so, but he also can’t stop her from engaging in such an old family pastime.
She’s not the only alchemist or inventor either! Nearby, lives the genius Varian, whom she often shares ideas and supplies with. Together, they’ve earned quite the reputation, labeled as a wizard and witch, who deal with dangerous and rare magic. However, they often work at Alice’s house more than his, due to her father being much more accepting of their unique hobby. While Varian often overlooks things, Alice tends to be much more particular in what they do, and will often stop Varian before his projects get out of hand. Together, they’re a real force to be reckoned with.
Then, Rapunzel showed up on their doorstep, asking for answers for her hair. Unlike in the series, it wasn’t one of Varian’s projects that caused them to receive no answers: no, it was a miscalculation, that neither caught, that ended up labeling her hair as a rock instead. Varian also has no need during the expo to look for a partner, as he already as has Alice willing to work with him.
However, the events of Queen for a Day play out VERY Differently, as Varian and Alice are both working diligently on trying to fix the rock issue. and Alice’s father comes to check on them, letting them explain what they were doing, before testing a new serum. As far as they know, it doesn’t do anything, and Alice’s father sends Varian home, also Sending Alice upstairs to eat something. This is when the Amber encased him.
Alice proceeds down Varian’s route within the show, slowly descending into her own madness and using manipulation, alchemy, Dinah, and her inventions to fight and try to find a way to free her father. Unlike Varian, Alice also uses her skills in both alchemy and magic to run away at the end, and get away from the Corona guard before she can be arrested. She’s currently holed up in Demanitus’ tomb, sifting through his blueprints and notes.
Whether or not Varian helps her, decides to leave her, or fight against her is up to who ever interacts with this verse
V.8H ( practically perfectly replaceable );
Rapunzel Replacement
Helen never wanted the blonde girl, and it didn’t take much to convince the local ‘mayor’ of sorts to take her. After all, a baby is so much work, and what use for it does she have?
That’s how Quirin ended up swaddling the baby, only a few days old, in the Throne room of the Corona Castle. Unsure what to do with the child, given that he had his own to take care of. The King and Queen took one look at the child, and felt their hearts stop. She looked so similar to the lost princess, until she opened her eyes, and bright blue stared at them instead of green. Sure, she was a few years too young, but she was still, practically perfect. Like a gift sent to them from the heavens.
The kingdom was growing worse every day, yes they prospered, but without the princess, and without security of knowing what would happen if something happened to the king and queen? Well, things were tense to say the least.
So, they decided to take the young blonde, Alice, they were told her name was. But that would be the most well kept secret King Fredrick had, along with who she really was. After all, the next day, it was announced that the Lost Princess had been found, by Quirin, along with the witch who had stolen her, and had kept her young. They displayed the long blonde locks, and the small baby that looked just like she had when she had been stolen. The Kingdom rejoiced. Finally, Rapunzel was home.
Growing up in the castle, trained in protocol, and royal duties, Rapunzel was practically a perfect princess. The only thing was that she always kept her eyes down, and out of sight at all times.
Plus there was the growing issue of that VOICE in her head.
Imagine EVERYONE’S surprise when Flynn Rider shows up with a woman named Rapunzel, with short brown hair and green eyes, whom he claims is the real princess. And the younger, fake Princess Rapunzel’s whole world is twisted, and suddenly she’s now the lost princess, just metaphorically.
V.8I ( Swear to the Moon );
Brotherhood Adopted
Alice was born, and instantly forgotten. She was found as a child by Hector. She was trained by him to be a warrior, a fighter, a killer. At age ten she was sworn into the brotherhood, pledging herself and her life to the moonstone, and to the dark kingdom.
Hector, having to stay to protect the Great tree, has given Alice the task of locating any other members of the dark kingdom. Not to make them return, but to be sure that they’re alive.
Alice has no knowledge of Corona, nor the people within it. She has no prior emotions for anyone. And is likely to treat others with hostility, and violence, have a lack of manners, as well as speak in a bit of strange ways. She also has a pet Bearcat, whom she rides, and who she calls “Teddy.” Her family history has no place within her, except for the ever growing threat of the voice in her head.
V.8J ( WAKE UP ALICE );
Nightmare Trapped
Alice wakes up being told that it is her Wedding day. When she looks in the mirror, it not her sixteen year old face that looks back at her, instead it’s some woman. One that she wouldn’t recognize without that typical blue ribbon in her hair.
No one in Corona sees anything wrong with this, In fact, everyone is acting as if the missing four years had happened. Apparently, somewhere down the line Rapunzel and Cassandra had made up? Alice had gotten engaged? Eugene was prince now? Alice didn’t live with her mother.
Honestly, it didn’t sound TOO bad. Actually, it was a dream come true. Which was Alice’s issue with everything. No one just FORGETS four years of their life, and when Alice shows up on time somewhere?
Well, she realizes, it’s time to wake up. And to figure out who-or WHAT- is trying to keep her here.
Who ever wants to interact with this verse can either:
A.) also be ‘awake’ and be aware that something is wrong
or
B.) try to convince Alice that everything is fine and okay.
V.8K ( i’d give anything for you );
Late Season Three
Soon after the events of “Be Very Afraid”, Alice will have changed quite a bit. Realizing her own fears, and who she was actually afraid of, Alice will force herself to face it.
In doing so, she has begun to stick up for herself much more. By this I mean, Alice has officially stopped living with her mother and family. She now lives in the Castle as a squire.
The guard she is currently working under is quite strict during the week days, but is also quite caring and understanding and much more relaxed than other guards. This means she has weekends off, once she has finished doing her work, allowing her to walk around Corona, and do what she pleases.
While most squires are typically teenage boys, due to Alice’s skills with her swordplay, she was given a pass and allowed to study, and to one day become a full fledged Corona Guard.
She has also taken up extra time studying with the now retired Captain, allowing him to decide when and where it will take place. As well as constant running between the Castle and Xavier’s for training in blacksmithing.
While Alice has not forgiven Varian, fully, she is much more willing to work with him, talk to him, and so on. However, this is mainly due to her need to be willing, and listen to orders. She does still wish though to fully make up with him eventually.
V.8L ( these voices these strange noises );
Post Canon
Life in Corona has seemingly gone back to normal. Cassandra is gone, and everything seems okay.
That is until the small voice in Alice’s head begins talking. Random black outs, and actions unlike herself (or perhaps too close to herself?). Alice is struggling with the long lasting effects from her time spent in, what she now knows is called, the lost realm. She’s trying to become a guard, a knight if she gets that far, but the way things seem to be going, it appears her madness is taking it’s toll. Who knows if Corona will ever truly be normal again?
And worst of all for her, it seems she might have to put her trust in the very person she wishes to keep at a distance.
#spoilers;#tts spoilers#Verse Bio Tag;#V.8A ( collecting stars and dreams );#V.8B ( shine brighter than the sun );#V.8C ( woke up into a nightmare );#V.8D ( they’ll pay if it happens again );#V.8E ( pull your knife out of my back );#V.8F ( i will guard you with my life );#V.8G ( there’s hell to pay );#V.8H ( practically perfectly replaceable );#V.8I ( Swear to the Moon );#V.8J ( WAKE UP ALICE );#V.8K ( i’d give anything for you );#V.8L ( these voices these strange noises );
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I’m compiling a list of all my wips w/ summaries here to remind myself what all I should be working on and keep myself accountable - and if y’all wanna yell at me about them please do
(Also be warned there will be some spoilers in here cause I suck at non spoiler-y summaries)
Fanfics:
Dear Evan Hansen:
(Apprentice) Park Ranger Handsome part 16 (doesn’t even have a name yet I’m so sorry)
Evan and Connor’s first date!! They go to the orchard of course, and have more relationship conversation... and a picnic.
Fae Court AU
Prince Connor of the Winter Court falls in love with a human boy and acts on it, despite his parents having Rules against relationships with humans. The consequences are big but Connor and Evan weather them well.
Flash:
Soulmate AU (I’m thinking ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me’ for series title)
A series of one-shots following the Arrowverse characters - with a bit of a focus on Team Flash and the Legends - as they find love and happiness , with some bumps along the way, in a world where you share dreams with your soulmate. Timeline is spread out from Stein and Clarissa’s first meeting to some point around mid canon.
endgame ships include Barry/Len, Hartley/Cisco, Wally/Jax, Sara/Ava, Nate/Ollie/Felicity/Lisa(it’ll make sense I promise), Iris/Caitlin/Shawna, and more
Role-reversal AU
In a world where Barry was kept strictly away from the file on his mother’s murder after he becomes a CSI he grows resentful and distrusting of law-enforcement and a little quicker to recognize that he can’t entirely fix the issues with the police from the inside. So when he wakes from a nine month coma with super speed his first thought is how much he can shove the police’s faces in the fact that the system isn’t perfect and needs to change... he becomes the world’s fastest thief - unbeatable. At least until he goes after a certain diamond at the same time as one Leonard Snart, who walks away from the encounter looking to the world like a hero and gets a sweet taste of positive press that he’s not all that eager to give up.
Harry Potter crossover
Snart and Rory go “backpacking across Europe” on a ridiculous challenge to steal one thing in each country. Their last stop is in England and they’ve set their sights on a suburb in Surrey... which leads them to noticing the treatment of the young nephew of their potential target. Being survivors of abuse themselves they decide to remove him from that environment... along with all of Vernon Dursley’s valuables. Raising a kid is hard, raising a magical kid while maintaining positions as master thieves? ...piece of cake...
Check Please:
Moving On
When Jack and Bitty go through a messy breakup their friends are torn and Bitty is uncertain about what to do, especially when he has to go back to Georgia - where he’s firmly in the closet - for summer break. He can’t talk to his family or his friends about all his conflicting feelings about what happened, so he somehow finds himself corresponding with the one person who he knows would understand - Jack’s other ex, Kent Parson. He also finds himself growing closer to the previous year’s freshmen on his college hockey team and the team’s new manager - especially when summer ends and they’re all handling the situation better than the rest of his friends - ie: behaving like nothing happened except that they’re immediately down to fight Jack at a moment’s notice.
The Umbrella Academy:
Ghost Dave (that’s what it’s called in my google docs but it’s definitely not gonna be the title of the final product)
Dave Katz has been haunting the surviving members of his unit for a couple decades when the story about the 43 women comes on the news; a story Dave had heard plenty about before he died from his lover, Klaus Hargreeves. In whose tellings of it he was one of the children born that day. He also had claimed a few times to be from the future so Dave was fairly willing to take this as proof he was telling the truth. Immediately Dave seeks out Reginald Hargreeves and the 7 of the children he adopted. Over the next 29 years Dave follows the young Klaus around, giving him advice and unconditional friendship and protection from the other ghosts the poor kid could see.
Circle Of Magic crossover
When Tris finds herself dropping out of some kind of portal in a strange land it doesn’t take her long to figure out that some mage had decided to get rid of her - and possibly her siblings - by banishing her to another world, one with advanced technology but not much by way of magic - if one didn’t count the six super-powered siblings she appeared in the middle of. At the same time, but also not, Tris’s adopted sister Sandry wound up smack dab in the center of a group calling themself The Commission who’re very interested in adding her to their ranks, she joins up but maintains suspicion. Daja, the third sister, follows a pair of assassins. And their one brother, Briar, falls into the Vietnam War alongside one freshly tortured Klaus Hargreeves. They all find their way back together eventually - with much fewer casualties than if they hadn’t been there
Harry Potter crossover 1
When an eighteen-year-old Klaus Hargreeves gets bored of being lookout on a mission in London and wanders into the bar across the street he isn’t expecting to find a best friend, but that’s exactly what happens. Lily Evans is a couple months into a break-up and still tired of her ex and his idiocy, especially after his most recent letter - a pile of stupid big enough to send her straight to her local bar. The two hit it off instantly via complaining about anything and everything and egging each other into doing the most ridiculous but fun things. Their night of fun turns sour when Klaus finds out his brother Ben died during the mission and at least one of his siblings blame him. Lily takes the broken boy back to her flat and let’s him stay with her until his visa to stay in England runs out. Thirteen years later the apocalypse is interrupted by a tired ex-professor bringing life changing news - Lily was pregnant when Klaus left England(they’d slept together a handful of times but were never more than friends with benefits), also Lily and her husband(the idiot ex who apologized and changed his behavior, Klaus was at their wedding) are dead and Klaus and Lily’s son was placed with his aunt Petunia(who Klaus has met and knows the boy never should’ve been put with) because only five people besides Lily and James knew who Harry’s father really was and the only one capable of doing anything about it had to find the wandering junkie first. Klaus handles all this about as well as a powerful veteran with a traumatic childhood can - fighting tooth and nail for custody and then raising the boy the best he can with help from his siblings and robot mom and shoving his son’s happiness and safety in the faces of everyone who did the boy wrong
Harry Potter crossover 2
Not long after the war ends Harry finds that he can’t stand staying in magical Britain any longer, so he takes his godson and moves to America. Six years later one of the kids who live across the street sneaks out his window, wearing only pjs despite the heavy snow. Harry finds himself staying up waiting for the boy to return to their street and making some hot cocoa - which he offers to the boy as soon as he sees him. It quickly becomes a Thing(tm); Klaus will sneak out his window in the middle of the night, go for a walk, and eventually wind up having hot cocoa in Harry’s kitchen. They form a strange friendship, one where Klaus has someone he knows he can go to when everything becomes too much - even if that means crawling through Harry’s window, collapsing on his floor in tears, and falling asleep on his couch, waking up just in time to get home before his absence is noticed. Three more years have passed when Harry and Teddy are idly watching tv and Harry sees a very familiar face as Reginald Hargreeves introduces ‘the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.’ When Klaus comes over that night Harry asks how much choice Hargreeves gave him and his siblings in their ‘heroics’. After some thought Klaus remembers how his brother Ben hadn’t wanted anything to do with what happened at the bank but was made to participate anyway. He answers honestly: they weren’t really given any. Thus begins Harry’s campaign to get custody for the kids from Hargreeves.
Original Works:
Four Elements Universe(a collection of stories set along one timeline - very far apart and with no overarching plot, just a shared world):
Sisa:
A secluded young king sneaks out of his castle and gets a job under a false identity in hope for friendship, then gives everything up to help his new friends and the rest of his people when he realizes the extent of his adviser’s corruption. Around the same time, a teenage master thief is hired to steal a specific box from the castle - and then to help another thief break her friend out of the castle dungeon - and uncovers several major secrets that might just change the fate of the kingdom.
Kings:
Bandit King Vakhtang’s life is irrevocably changed when he agrees to lend his men to a rebellion for a hefty amount of gold. Over time he finds himself growing fond of the boy prophesied to be the next king and learning just as much from his new employer about letting himself care and open up as he’s teaching the boy how to protect himself. (His best friend and lover is very proud of this growth and kinda wants to adopt the kid)
The Completely Unrelated Adventures Of Four People Who Had Nothing To Do With Each Other Beforehand:
Four teenagers in rural Texas follow a cipher they found in an old tome and discover that all four of them have magical abilities, and that their town may not be as average as they’d believed. As they delve deeper in this new world they uncover two different secret organizations and find themselves caught in the middle of a dangerous conflict over a powerful artifact - that may or may not be the kid sister of one of them.
Mythicals:
Six kids around the world each find objects - artifacts - that grant them magical transformations and abilities. Seven years later all six of them end up at the same prestigious performing arts school in New York. When they discover that they all have these artifacts and powers - and that New York and possibly the world is in danger - they team up to protect everyone else, and quickly become close friends. Though one of them has a secret that could drastically change how the others view them... and possibly risk the fate of the human race.
Eternity And Forever(this one does have an overarching plot):
Eternity Of Forever:
Back in the early years of humanity a young man goes up a mountain for his Trials of Adulthood - a series of three trials set to test a person on the traits of whichever three gods they’ve been assigned to serve - unfortunately for this boy he’s been chosen for the gods of empathy, loyalty, and love... three traits that do not come easily to him. In his desperation to pass his trials he cheats the system and gets caught. As punishment he’s cursed to live forever just on the cusp of adulthood but never reaching it, the only way to break his curse is to prove - with no possibility of dishonesty - that he’s capable of the three traits. Over the next few millennia he gets caught up in a war for the fate of all life on earth, and also somewhat adopts a maybe-alien and falls in love with a time traveler.
Throughout Eternity:
At some unknown point in the future all that’s left of the human race is a refugee colony on an island floating above the desolate remains of our planet. It’s into this that Quinton is born. But when it’s discovered that he can travel through time with just a thought he’s trained for a very important mission: to go back in time and stop the apocalypse. Shortly into his mission he meets an immortal teenager who claims to have met Quinton’s future self and who offers to help, telling him that first thing he should do is gather a team to help him - he even provides names and years. This little team becomes like a second family to Quinton, especially the pretend-aloof immortal.
Forever And After:
After the death of the closest thing he ever had to a father, Slythus finds himself applying to the superhero school the immortal had founded - despite knowing that even if he were accepted into the student body he’d never be accepted by the student body. Somehow he manages to get in... and even more impossible; manages to make friends. But even as he learns how to be good, his past is lurking on the edges of his new life and quickly becoming impossible to ignore - figuratively and literally.
Shadow Warriors:
After the dragon Svartr gets cursed protecting a village from invaders they offer their children to be trained by him - to take care of him as his condition worsens. Those selected and taught by him become known as the Shadow Warriors. Alexir was born several generations after the tradition began of sending every twelve-year-old up Svartr’s mountain for the selection and she never expected to be chosen, being much more focused on intellectual growth than physical, so when it happens it comes as a bit of a shock. She struggles to keep up with her peers in most of the lessons but refuses to give in, pushing herself to reach their level while also learning the complexities of friendship from them all.
Consequences(originally titled ‘Consequences of War’ until I realized it’s more about just consequences for actions in general - like: don’t piss off the powerful magical Being hiding out in the abandoned building):
After deliberately pissing off what they believed to be a ghost - or a false rumor more likely - a college aged idiot ends up being banished into a strange world... with a distinct change in biology(mostly in the area of hormones and primary sex characteristics). As they travel this new world in search of a way home - and back into their original form - they learn new things about themself and make interesting new friends. They find themself questioning whether they actually want their ‘old body’ back and then, when they begin to fall in love, whether they really want to return to their old world.
#sorry the lengths of the summaries are so inconsistent in the fanfics#(A)PRH#four elements universe#sisa#kings#tcua#mythicals#eaf#shadow warriors#Consequences of War#that's all the tags I have so far for these wips so check them out if you wanna know more#literally only one of the fanfics has a tag sdkjfhluejifsd#I should post more about the fanfics I'm working on I guess
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ZATR smeethood friends AU
I got this idea of if Zim and Tak knew each other as smeets, and how their relationship would be different, and how much different the Tak episode would be and all.
• they met while still underground, Tak was the first Irken to compliment the intelligence Zim showed, and also the first y’all Irken to be nice to him.
• they were usually seen together with Skoodge, they were like the dream team, though said dream team usually ended up causing trouble due to Zim being... a bit of a loose canon.
• while in Invader training it was very evident that despite his skill, Zim had trouble in training, back then, he was so small, so frail, due to being Defective, his PAK was faulty, making him need regular food and sleep, and the lifestyle on Irk makes that hard with the constant military life, thus, when he was young, Zim was physically weak and relatively frail, Tak helped him modify his PAK so adrenaline would help him get through his training.
• during their Invader training, Zim, Tak, and Skoodge were all paired up together, as is the norm for Defective Irkens, during one training session, they were training late, it was Zim’s idea to make up for the lackluster performance in training that day; however, there was an incident, an explosion, the three of them were caught in the crossfire.
• there was fire and smoke everywhere, Zim got the worst of it, he nearly got torn apart and lost both his eyes, his left arm was too damaged for even his PAK to heal, and ended up getting it amputated, Tak had a few burns and some brain damage, resulting in needing the wire seen on her head.
• Zim may have been worse off, but thanks to Tak’s technology, he’d pull through, not to say the surgery and rehabilitation wasn’t tough, originally he’d have to endure three years of recovery, but he pushed himself to just one year, however painful it was; he came back to training with ocular implants as replacements for his eyes, and and new, cybernetic arm, he’s rather self-conscious about it (not that he’d ever admit it) so he kept his arm covered, not ever taking off his uniform, and ocular implants were so well made, one couldn’t tell the difference between them and a real pair of eyes.
• it wouldn’t be found out until years later, but the cause of the explosion was sabotage, and the culprit was no other than Purple, he was resentful that Tak, despite being a Defect, is top of the Irken Elite training classes, and caused the explosion as a ‘joke’ and being the only one to know he’s the one behind Zim and Tak’s injuries, which he mocked them for, Zim acted like it was fine, Purple was one of his idols, even back then, but it definitely angered Tak, Purple messed with Zim the most, taking his prosthetic and hiding it for ‘fun’ he didn’t seem to ever do it around Red, however.
• years passed, Tak was able to get to her final test to become an Irken Elite early, Zim and Skoodge were on the planet as well to see how it’d go, but that’s when Zim accidentally caused the blackout that ruined Tak’s test, at the time, Zim was stubborn and didn’t believe he should say sorry since it wasn’t something he meant to do, Zim and Tak stopped talking after that, and Tak was sent to planet; Dirt.
• years passed, Zim had interrupted the Great Assigning, and one fake mission given and a faulty SIR Unit, the oblivious Irken was off to Earth, and of course the events of the first episode happens, relatively unchanged.
• eventually though, Zim discovers something about himself while on Earth, something that just...felt right. That he, is a she, Zim comes out as a trans girl, and she experienced little problems with coming out, she didn’t need to change her disguise much, just a new wig, though in the makeup department, she went a little...overboard.
• it was such a disaster, Gaz dragged her to the bathroom to fix the butchered makeup job, mostly because it was too terrible, since then Zim went to Gaz for makeup advice.
• Dib was actually very understanding and accepting when Zim came out, changing the pronouns of his insults towards her, and being trans himself, occasionally gave her advice, which at first, made her skeptical, but eventually was appropriated.
• Zim found no need to change her name, she was still Zim and no other name fit, in her opinion, and as for her voice tone, usually with how shrieky and loud her voice is, but as she had a voice modulator, she could change her voice tone relatively easily (I think she would sound like Zim’s Spanish VA)
• in the timeline of the show, she would’ve come out, at least a few days before the events of Gir Goes Crazy And Stuff.
• when that episode happens, it’s a might...different, when Zim tries to stop GIR at the library, the behavioral modulator is destroyed, so Zim couldn’t just switch GIR back to normal.
• as a result, Zim found no other choice, but to go to Dib for help, who reluctantly agreed, seeing how dangerous GIR was stuck in Duty Mode, within a few days they made special stun guns that would give Zim just enough time to turn GIR back to normal.
• it wasn’t easy, but it worked, Zim worked on GIR as quickly as she could, and the little robot remembered nothing of the event, which Zim found thankful, the event made her really appreciate the way GIR was, she had no intention of changing him ever again, otherwise, it just wouldn’t be GIR.
• as a means of ‘research’ of how a normal human girl acts (and because GIR likes the cookies) Zim joins the Girly Rangers, but surprisingly, ends up enjoying her time there, even getting a few badges and making a few friends.
• being around her new Girly Ranger friends, it began to help Zim open up a bit, and mellow out a little, and with that, she realized the way she and Tak ended off and fell out from their friendship wasn’t right, and for the first time, felt large, horrible guilt, she ruined the life of one her best friends, and she didn’t even apologize and acted selfish and like a total jerk, now knowing better, she hopes to see Tak again, to properly apologize.
• little did she know, she’d get her chance faster than she thought; Tak came to Earth, though rather than meeting at the skool, Tak came to Zim’s house, which really caught her off guard.
• Tak took note of Zim’s new look, and complimented her on it, rather passively, despite her anger towards Zim, it was clear she held some fondness over their friendship in the past, at the least.
• seeing Tak again, it was a bit overwhelming for Zim, she hadn’t seen her in so long, and she wants to apologize for her actions, but Tak doesn’t give her the chance, Tak wouldn’t listen to a word her former friend said, and crippled the base, leaving Zim and GIR to figure out the problem on their own.
• having no other choice, Zim and GIR went to Dib’s house, by this point, they were less like enemies, and more like rivals and occasional friends, so Zim convinced Dib to listen as she explained her and Tak’s history together, and how now she realizes she shouldn’t have left things off with Tak the way they were, she needed Dib’s help, and she just hoped Tak would listen to her next they met.
• surprisingly, over the coming week, Tak did very little actual evil planning, just going about her day, which Zim of course found suspicious, yet she still wouldn’t listen, even avoided her, it seemed.
• it was a rather...tough time, it was the most vulnerable Zim’s ever felt, and it certainly showed.
• that changed one day, when while walking home (well, for Zim, it’d be going to Dib’s house since her base was still out of commission) they ran into an Airolax, the natural enemy of the Irken, extremely dangerous, they’ve hunted Irkens for eons, since before the time Irkens even used PAKs, they skinned Irkens alive, devoured their eyes, and harvested their organs like trophies, no Irken has ever faced even one and survived.
• Airolax were bird like aliens that has razor sharp teeth and talons, and were twice the size of any Tallest, and the hooks on their wings could easily cut into Irken skin better than any scalpel could, this particular Airolax attacked Zim and Dib in the middle of the street, still a ways away from the Membrane household, needless to say, Zim was visibly scared, any Irken with half a PAK would be, which immediately set Dib on edge with how rarely Zim is ever scared of something, well at least honest about being scared of something, at least.
• Zim didn’t so much as hesitate as she grabbed Dib by the arm and ran like hell, eventually resorting to using her PAK legs to move faster with the Airolax flying overhead, making an attempt to make a grab for the small Irken.
• the sharp talons were mere centimeters away from grabbing Zim by the PAK when a laser hit the Airolax in the side, the two looked to see it was Tak, she stepped in front of them, firmly in a defensive stance, her PAK legs out and poised to attack.
• the Airolax attacked relentlessly, Tak lashed with her PAK legs, and shot her lasers, that is until the Airolax spread out his wings, knocking Tak to the ground, ready to strike her eyes first.
• that’s when Zim, not wanting to lose her friend a second time, lunged at the winged beast, piercing her own PAK legs deep into its thick skin, making it screech in pain as Zim screamed insults at him “YOU KEEP YOUR FILTHY DEATH-CLAWS OFF OF HER YOU BIRD-BEAST!!!”
• the Airolax reared back, thrashing about until he slammed into a large tree, knocking the wind out of Zim, but she wasn’t through with him yet.
• As the feathery beast went to attack the two teens, Zim got to her feet, she wasn’t quite thinking straight, the hit possibly giving her a concussion, she reflexively shot out her hand in a motion to reach out to Dib and Tak, only for the Airolax to go slamming into a large boulder, it was shocking, Zim looked at her hands, and realized she’s tapped into her Irken Ability.
• for context, an Irken Ability describes a special ability or power an Irken has and eventually discovers, an example of this is Tak’s ability to hypnotize people with just a flash from her eyes, it’s surprising as Irken Abilities are relatively rare in Defects, Zim herself didn’t think she even had one, but as she found out today, her Irken Ability was psychic capabilities, in this moment; telekinesis.
• Now knowing this, Zim used her newfound telekinesis to throw the Airolax around until finally releasing him from her grip, Tak gave it several good lashes with her PAK legs, and while he was less experienced in combat, Dib grabbed a large, sharp ended tree branch and whacked the Airolax harshly in the throat, knocking the wind out of the large beast.
• with one final push, Zim picked the Airolax up with her newfound ability, and with all her might, threw him at least a few miles away, the overuse of her telekinesis having exhausted her, Zim fell to her knees, totally wiped out.
• Zim hadn’t realized it until after the battle, but in the fight, Zim’s ponytail had come loose, which she noticed as Tak helped her to her feet, arm held over the taller Irken’s shoulder, as they quickly made their way to Dib’s house.
• on the way, Zim finally got her chance to apologize to Tak like she’s been trying to for the past week, she admitted she’s been selfish and stubborn, and accident or not, she should’ve apologized in the first place, Tak is genuinely surprised at the legitimately sincere apology, the Zim she knew years ago was never one to apologize and be honest with her emotions, it would seem being on Earth gave the destructive Irken room to grow.
• Tak calls Mimi to deactivate the crippling of Zim’s base, and truthfully, though there is a part of her that’s still angry about what happened, after seeing Zim again, after so many years, seeing her laugh, smile, it makes Tak’s face heat up, and the heart component in her squeedlyspooch to skip a beat, seeing Zim just makes her...happy, and she doesn’t know why.
• unbeknownst to her, Zim felt the same way, both not knowing what the feeling is, but Dib did, and he was internally facepalming at these clueless teens.
•a few weeks passed, Zim felt like a large weight was lifted off her shoulders now that she’s apologized to Tak, true, it was the first time she actually apologized to anyone, but the point still stands.
• as time passes, Zim actually begins to gain an interest in music, GIR brought home a ukulele and curious, Zim played it, turns out she’s REALLY good, she even got out her invader diary to write her own songs, just about anything, the songs went from just simple notes to having words, the words came when she remembered the poems Tak made in class, and the lyrics just unraveled themselves.
• when they all started music class, and the home assignment was to ‘write a song about a feeling that’s hard to describe’ Zim was ecstatic! The moment she got home, she went right to writing a song, this was the first time Dib and Tak saw her interest in music and were curious about what song the usually destructive Irken would make.
• when focusing on writing a song, Zim would use her telekinesis to float around, usually upside down to help her focus, for whatever reason, when she used her telekinesis on herself, Zim didn’t tire out, she thinks it could be because she’s the source of the psychic power, thus she can float indefinitely.
• weeks passed into months, Zim got an award for her talent in both music and science, and she’d steadily gotten more popular with her music, even getting music gigs and she used her telekinesis in her shows, the humans just thought it was special effects.
• however, the day came that Zim found out about her mission being a lie, the Tallests didn’t care, they never did, and didn’t want to deal with Zim at all, but surprisingly, Zim wasn’t as upset about it as she thought she should be, maybe it’s all the time she’s spent on Earth, learning and growing, growing up, it really changed her perspective.
• the real problem was, the Tallests wanted to take the Earth, for its snacks and artillery, and that would mean, a fight to protect the Earth, the place Zim never thought she’d care about, but after a year and a half, discovering love, sharing her first kiss with Tak on this planet, Earth was her new home, and she was determined to protect it.
• to put it shortly, a war would be fought, not that most of the humans believed or cared, but Zim and Tak created their own brand of fire power, they upgraded their respective ships, made a few other ships, and prepared strong, yet lightweight armor, thankfully it wouldn’t just be the two of them, Dib was ready to defend Earth to his last stand, Gaz and Membrane would fight as well, though not for the same honorable reasons as the other three, the help was appreciated.
• it only took the Massive and it’s fleet a little less than a week to arrive, and it was to war.
• the fight was harsh, and tough, Zim’s robotic arm getting torn off in a fight, but when Tak nearly got taken out by a large ship, Zim went into a blind rage, using both her psychic power, and her own PAK weapons to mercilessly obliterate the ship, upon seeing Tak was okay, floated to her worryingly, confessing she was very worried, even when they weren’t talking, the shorter Irken was scared something would happen, and Zim wouldn’t be able to protect Tak, said Irken eased her worries, promising nothing would happen, they shared a kiss on the battlefield before getting back into the fight.
• it’s looking bad until they get support, from the Resisty, that’s when the battle is turned in their favor, they become victorious! They end up not killing the Tallests, but Zim approaches them menacingly, giving them a single warning: if they ever come near the Earth again, she will kill them herself.
• after that, things went to normal for the most part, the Resisty stayed in touch, Dib and Lard Nar became close, Zim went to her music, now with Tak, who used her poetry skills to write both poems and great stories, also using her intelligence to make incredible inventions, Dib eventually became a paranormal investigator like he wanted, Gaz would grow to become a horror game developer, and they simply, went on with their lives, relatively peacefully.
This is all I got so far, I might make a continuation at some point, if there’s something I should fix at all or any tips, please let me know!
Trans Girl Zim AU belongs to @cutiebatata
#Invader Zim#invader zim au#zim#dib membrane#gaz membrane#Tak#GIR#Mimi#almighty tallest#Lard Nar#Resisty#let me know if I need to add more tags#trans girl zim
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general kinformation
okay mems
heres *claps* this shit
David “Dave” Strider
~Age~
16 at the time of his death.
~Birthday~
December 3, 1995
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Human
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
A solid 8 or 9.
~Physical Description~
- About 6ft and 145lbs.
- Red eyes.
- Very lacking in melanin (had albinism), so I had very light blond-almost-white, thin hair, and very pale skin.
- I had freckles eeeeverywhere though.
- Always wore my shades.
- Lots of bodily scars from Sburb/past-abuse.
~Memories~
- I was a doomed timeline Dave
- I still reached God Tier
- I was with Terezi for a bit but we were better friends
- I got with Karkat sometime after that, as a moirail at first, then it just kept vacillating between pale, flush, and sometimes pitch
- “Born” and raised Texas native in Houston, was in 8th grade when the game started
- I had a sorta accent but I hid it
- I had a complicated relationship with my bro, but I think I still cared a little for him
- Bisexual disaster
- Had a crush on John at one point. A huge crush it was really bad
- John had a lot of influence on me
- I think I died sometime during the final fight with Jack, he stabbed me
- I had albinism, with super white hair and skin, and that’s why I wore the shades all the time. Light hurt my eyes
- Freckles. Everywhere
- I died during S: Game Over
- Pre-meteor, I was pretty similar to canon
- I had a lot of scars on my body from the abuse I received from my bro
- I never got to meet Dirk (but god would I like to)
- I believe John was Jewish? And I was an atheist
- I would lay down my life for Jade Harley in a heartbeat. I guess I technically did?
- Before game, me and Bro (his name was Derrick) had a dog. I don’t think we had it at the time of the game, but we had a dog at some point
- Bro and I would also play in the snow a lot when it snowed
- Because of my albinism, I had really bad vision and would wear contacts. Before I got contacts I had glasses I would wear to school and kids would make fun of me for my eyes and really pale complexion a lot
Dave Strider (Heinoustuck)
~Age~
13
~Birthday~
December 3rd, 1995
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Transmutated human, not actually a bird.
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
Like a 1 or 2 it doesn’t happen often.
~Physical Description~
- Maybe about 5’3.
- I had wings big enough to wrap around my body.
- There was just dry blood, everywhere.
- Really pale, but mainly because I was dead.
- Had one human arm and leg, and one more bird like human arm and leg.
- I had a plague doctor mask sewn onto my face, and feathers were around my neck and waist, and even some in my hair.
- I had a sword in my stomach, it was removable.
- If you removed the mask, it’d just be a skinned face. Not pretty.
~Memories~
- I was excited but also nervous about my transmutation
- My relationship with my bro was better during this timeline just because we were both kind of weird ass monsters
- I was dead, and so my body was really cold all the time
- When the transmutation surgery was performed on my 13th birthday, they didn’t put me under. That surprised me and I wasn’t expecting it and I was briefly terrified. Them performing surgery like that is what killed me (but I was brought back, transmutated, so we’re gucci)
- I was part of the reason why John ended up transmutated oops
- I refused to play the game with him and because Rose was having a lot of troubles with the internet on her end John eventually got caught by his dad
- I was pleased that he finally went through with it, even if it was forced
- Even pre-transmutation, John was my best friend
Sollux Captor
~Age~
Roughly 9 sweeps, but still lived a full life outside of canon
~Birthday~
May 21, 1995
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Troll
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
Maybe like a 6 or 7
~Physical Description~
- About 5’7, really thin and lanky.
- Double/Forked everything, almost. Double horns, forked tongue, double-pointed ears. Yes, even what you’re thinking. There was two.
- Everything on my body was fairly yellow tinted because of my blood.
- Not super different to how I’m drawn in canon.
~Memories~
- I am fairly canon consistent, and have memories from Sollux’s life before I took over, but my specific life began on Prospit as Sollux’s dream self
- Aradia and Feferi were matesprits of mine at one point or another
- Seeing Aradiabot “date” Equius was so weird
- I was really good at programming and hacking, and did that stuff all the time
- I had a kismesissititude with Eridan but it was a little too much and it blew up. Ended up blind and he ended up dead so yeah
- I still forgave him though
- I was from an Earth C timeline, and ended up with Aradia as my matesprit again.
- Uuu other than that he’s pretty canon?
Sollux Captor (Humanstuck)
~Age~
About late 20’s/early 30’s.
~Birthday~
May 21st, year unknown.
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Human
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
Maybe a 3.
~Physical Description~
- About 5’8, real fuckin skinny.
- I had heterochromia, with one brown and one blue eye, but I was blind in the blue eye.
- White, with really dark black hair.
- I basically lived in polo shirts.
- I wore round glasses before I went blind and kept wearing them even afterwards out of habit.
~Memories~
- I went to University with a lot of my friends, both me and Karkat doing the computer science programs (information tech for me specifically)
- Aradia and I were married for a few years, but then I got into a car accident with her as the passenger and she passed. That’s how I lost vision in one eye
- I had heterochromia, and never grew out of the lisp
- If I wasn’t in a polo shirt and didn’t have a can of Monster or Red Bull at my side it wasn’t me
- Had a brief fling with Eridan that didn’t really last, ended up with Feferi in the end
- I worked as the IT guy for a video production company
- Put a ring on Feferi despite being nervous after what happened to Aradia
- I was really really white. Feferi was black, Aradia was Japanese, Eridan was Pacific Islander, and Karkat was a stinky ginger who dyed his hair black with box dye
Johnathan “John” Egbert
~Age~
20 by the end of canon.
~Birthday~
April 13, 1996
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Human
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
Like a strong 5
~Physical Description~
- Super Short, like 5’3 even after puberty.
- Not white, but whatever race I was I have no idea.
- Soft, but not too thick.
- Jet black, thick hair, dark blue eyes, and a dark complexion.
- Had buck teeth and a slight overbite, that was fixed a little bit with braces I had when I was younger.
~Memories~
- My dad taught me how to play the piano growing up, and his death really tore me up. I couldn’t look at pianos the same afterwards.
- I was from a (I think) fairly canon consistent, earth C timeline.
- I was fairly convinced I was heterosexual. (News flash: I wasn’t)
- I played so many pranks, people hated it.
Derrick “Dirk” Strider
~Age~
20 by the end of canon
~Birthday~
December 3, 2409
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Human
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
Like a 2
~Physical Description~
- My hair was slicked back all. the. time. Speaking of hair, I was a ginger.
- A sort of really bright orange eye color.
- T o l like 6’4 and also fairly built. Not muscular but not super lanky either.
- Not a lot of freckles, but I had some on my cheeks.
- Still had my sweet tat.
~Memories~
- Mostly earth C canon timeline.
- I was afraid of water, mainly the ocean, because I couldn’t really swim well.
- Cal’s existence in my life was weird to say the least. He was a lot more sentient when I was in need of a guardian, and grew more and more inanimate as I got older and stopped needing him to take care of me
- I don’t know when I found out I was gay, but Jake was my first crush.
- I didn’t talk to another living soul (that wasn’t Cal) until I was at least 11 or 12 when I met Callie. So, I was a little socially stunted.
- I got back together with Jake on earth C after working through our issues a little more.
- So Gay.
Derrick “Dirk” Strider (No Game)
~Age~
Mid 20’s
~Birthday~
December 3rd, year unknown.
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Human
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
A 1 or a 2.
~Physical Description~
- My hair was slicked back all. the. time. Speaking of hair, I was a ginger.
- A sort of really light brown, looked orange eye color.
- 6’4 and also fairly built. Not muscular but not super lanky either.
- Not a lot of freckles, but I had some on my cheeks.
- Fairly heavily tattooed.
~Memories~
- I was born in Houston but lived in Japan for a period of time before going back to Houston.
- It wad actually modern day times just like Jane/Jake.
- I lived with all the Striders, but kept closest to my older bro David.
- I was in a ldr relationship with Jake, and eventually moved him out with me to Houston.
- Our relationship was a little rough at first, but after some time apart to work on our issues we tried again, eventually getting married.
- My family consisted of Derrick, David, myself, and Dave, usually called Davie.
- Hal was still an AI program I created.
- I did engineering and programming for a living.
- So Gay x2.
Grandpa Jacob “Jake” Harley
~Age~
Basically deceased by now, probably in his 90’s when he died
~Birthday~
April 21, 1910
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male, He/Him/His
~Species~
Human
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
Maybe a 1 or 2
~Physical Description~
- As a young lad, I basically looked like Jake English (I mean, he is me so).
- I was dark skinned, pacific islander, and fairly thick and muscular.
- I had dark brown, almost black hair, and dark green eyes.
- In my older years, I grew out my mustache.
- My teeth were a little fucked up.
- As I got older, I got grayer, and didn’t bother with dye.
~Memories~
- My canon is based loosely around the ARG lore, minus the whole uh, Adolf bit.
- Also based around Hiveswap canon.
- So I have a good handful of children, and I wasn’t the best parent to all of them, and I realized that, so I really tried improving with Jade. I still loved them all dearly though.
- I would take her out hunting along the island, teaching her young because there’s a lot of critters on the island.
- I was the original bisexual.
- I was kind of clueless.
- I was well travelled, having explored many caves, forests, and mountains. My favorite thing to see was always the aurora borealis.
Lil Hal
~Age~
When I was originally built I had the mentality of a 13 year old. I’ve sort of aged mentally but not entirely.
~Birthday~
I don’t have one really, at least not one that I know of yet.
~Gender and Pronouns~
Male presenting, He/Him/His
~Species~
AI/Android
~Shifting Strength out of Ten~
Like a 1 or 2.
~Physical Description~
- I used to be a triangle pair of anime glasses.
- Then when I got a body, I was given more humanlike features and looked more like Dirk.
- I had a more red, black and white design though.
- The drawing I made describes his looks fairly well.
~Memories~
- I was part of an offshoot timeline where I didn’t get prototyped with ARquiusprite. Instead, I was given a body.
- I had a fear of death.
- I wasn’t an official player in the game but I helped Dirk and them play.
- I’m not sure how I ended up dying, I don’t have many memories of him yet.
- Him and Dave got really close throughout it all and I adopted him as my human brother.
- Developing emotions was Scary.
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Canon call for a trans Dirk Strider. I have a pretty complicated string of memories so I’m sorry if this is long.
I guess the easiest way to do this is to explain how our timeline worked? It was incredibly close to canon, with a game, trolls, all that. The only thing that made it weird was that it was like we were stuck in this time loop - not us, but versions of ourselves (for us kids, anyway, I’m not sure how it worked with the trolls). So, for instance: I was raised by a Dave who played the game, and therefore retained his Knight of Time powers. He was able to go back and forth between his time and mine, but still kept me ahead of anyone else. I don’t remember his reasoning. I met a Dave in the game as well, in dream bubbles. I then went on to raise a Dave who came in a meteor, and he went on to play the game after I died, rinse, repeat.
We didn’t quite win the game? It was more like the game rejected us halfway through, spit us back out into our normal lives, and expected us to be cool with that. Roxy and I got tossed back with Jake and Jane, so we were stuck having to adapt to civilization. We all kept our god tier powers, despite not being the gods of whatever universe was rebuilt.
I’m just gonna break more specific stuff down by people, if that’s cool? I’ll go by order of appearance in my life.
Hal - I made Hal when I was thirteen so that I could step away from my chats more easily, but he became self aware more quickly than I realized he would. My Alpha Bro (D) stepped in to find me piecing together a body from scraps I managed to find of metal and older computer parts that I dried and restored on the roof. It was all rudimentary, but he became more company than anyone else I really had. Other than D, he was the only physical being with me, and the single permanent one. We were overwhelmingly similar at first, but with his mind being connected to so much, his consciousness expanding faster than mine could at the time, he very quickly developed his own personality and sense of self. We had an antagonistic relationship, but we stayed close to each other.
Jake - I was dependent on Jake for most of my emotional functioning. I mirrored the way he experienced most things, leading to him attaching to me in the same way. I don’t remember how I got to the island with him, but I did, and he was the first person I wasn’t related to or that I had constructed that I could be close to. He hated Hal. The two of them would take strife sessions too far on a regular basis (forcing me to update a lot of Hal’s structure) and pretty constantly making a lot of tension. Jake started telling me that Hal was manipulative toward me. He frequently suggested that I shut Hal down, telling me that he was a part of me that I had abandoned in the year and a half since I created him, and that I should leave that version of myself in the past. I believed him, but I couldn’t shut Hal down. Jake and I started dating almost on accident - more like desperately trying to be close rather than dating. We both needed someone to be close to. I didn’t notice it then, but I wound up doing a lot of things for him - emotionally supporting his outbursts while internalizing all of my own (its what I was used to, for the most part). After a handful of months, he distanced himself from me rather suddenly, leaving me blindsided. We stayed awkward with each other for the rest of the game.
Roxy - Roxy admitted to having feelings for me before I told her I wasn’t a girl. She was my best friend after that, or at least the closest human equivalent to a moirail I could think of. I have my strongest memories with her - most of them being after the game. She was my biggest support system after everything that happened with Jake, and she took me in after the game. We lived together for a really long time, long enough for Dave and Rose to functionally be half-raised as brother and sister. I started developing problems with alcohol around age 20, and she was the first person to recognize it and help me in every way she could.
Jane - Jane and I became estranged in the same way Jake and I did after the game. She had too hard of a time dealing with the falling out between he and I, and couldn’t help but pick a side. I don’t blame her anymore - I realize now how she must’ve felt. My only solid memory of her is from after the game, when Dave was around nine and began making friends on the internet. When John’s name came up, I realized pretty quickly who that must be. Jane was alive, and I don’t remember exactly how their dynamic worked, but I messaged her and caught up after that.
Dave (in-game) - Meeting Dave was apparently what set me apart from other Dirks stuck in this timeline. I found him in dream bubbles, and through that, found out about how absolutely fucked up his Bro had been, and why. I torched Cal the first chance I got, and made sure I didn’t lose touch with Roxy after the game, so she could help me make sure I didn’t become what I could’ve been. I hope I didn’t.
Dave (post-game) - He was my kid. I was terrified of what I could’ve been to him, and I know in some ways I failed. My alcohol problems never fully went away. I dropped him with Rose and Roxy way too many nights, and I still knew that, inevitably, the game would get him, too. I tried to make him as ready as possible, without absolutely terrifying him. I never knew how to explain it to him. I still wouldn’t. I died when I was in my early 30’s, when he was thirteen. I loved him. A lot. But I understand if he doesn’t want to find me.
I have a handful of memories post-game, as well, which add some more context:
Immediately before the game ended, Jake told me that he loved me, but that he couldn’t stand to see what Hal was doing to me. He promised he’d try again if I agreed to cut Hal out of my life. I still couldn’t force myself to shut him down, so I backed all of his memories and program onto a hard drive, and gave the shades that he was conscious in to the Dave I met in-game. Jake didn’t try again. After the game, we hung out for a while, and even if it felt almost-romantic sometimes, it was obvious he didn’t actually want to be there. We went around two years in that weird limbo space, until Roxy finally caught on and intervened. She told Jake that he might want to take some space from us, and helped me re-build Hal’s body when we were eighteen.
Once we brought Hal back with a newer, more lifelike body, he realized that he was still connected to the shades I had given to the in-game Dave. He was, essentially, able to open up communication between us and him, letting me see how his end of the timeline panned out, and the life of the version of me he raised.
Jake and I kept in and out of contact for several years, never quite making up, but still catching up with each other now and then. I processed a lot of what our relationship was as toxic, and he agreed. I think having Jade in his life made him mature. The last time we talked, we were on good terms. I’d be… open to talking to him again, though delicately.
I’m sorry about the length of this. I’ve been sitting on this for a while now, but I think I’m ready to try and find my friends again. I’m mostly trying to find Roxy or any of the three Daves I knew, but I’m also looking for anyone who has similar memories. I’m open to talking to Jake and Jane again.
Here’s hoping someone recognizes this. Message me @deitydoq or @die-stri.
#homestuck#homestuck kin#canon call#dirk strider kin#roxy lalonde kin#dave strider kin#jake english kin#jane crocker kin#mod nepeta#submission
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I tend to take a really holistic view of character understanding. I think that’s why I jump between storylines the way I do; there’s something I’m supposed to be learning over here that I can’t learn over there. Like, I’m writing three different main timelines, and all three of them are different, even starring the same characters largely. And even though these are all different iterations of these characters, what I learn in one timeline gives me a depth of understanding and a platform in another.
Plus, there’s something really fascinating about changing a variable and seeing how differently it plays out. Like-- GoT:A Maul never slaughtered the Orsis cadets, so his kill-count is exceptionally low. In most of my timelines, I don’t acknowledge that bit in Darth Plagueis that had him in gladiatorial matches because I don’t know why Sidious would ever risk him being caught, though I have no trouble seeing Sidious risking him being killed. But in GoT:A, that’s the catalyst for getting Maul out of Sidious’s control; still, I am reasonably sure he can count the number of people he’s ended the lives of on two hands and not use up all his fingers to do it. And all of those situations, unlike Orsis, were kill or be killed, as well. (So was that, but they weren’t the threat to him.) So, he’s ultimately-- softer. A lot softer in some ways. He’s not the same level of ruthlessly pragmatic. He’s more capable of altruism, though he’s still not universally altruistic. But of the three, he’s the only one who would be willing to sacrifice his life for an ideal instead of something more concrete, though even he is much more grounded in loyalty to people and places than in a philosophy.
But he would intrinsically be willing to lay down his life for Alderaan by his middle twenties, for example, and never think himself poorer for that, whereas WM!Maul, who got the full suite of canonical brainwashing, is only selectively willing to sacrifice for a very small number of people -- Obi-Wan, Vokara Che and Bail Organa, as of the end of SIOF, though as time goes on and he bonds with others, he adds to that list; Breha, his Blackbirds, likely eventually Ahsoka, and eventually Savage. But even then, WM!Maul is incredibly selective about what he’s willing to die for and that never actually changes.
TF Maul exists somewhere between the two. He did go through the massacre at Orsis, did kill a whole lot of people, but it was before Sidious got those final hooks into him -- his trials -- and so when he gets his wings, he’s not so blindly brainwashed that the terror of them being cut off fails to override his loyalty and sense of no way out, and so he bolts. And honestly, he bolts like a teenager does; he doesn’t plan it, he just panics and runs and once he’s run, he realizes right quick that going back will probably mean the end of his life in some gruesome manner and so he kind of almost traps himself into leaving. Out of options, he runs to the Jedi because they’re the only ones strong enough to protect him.
Out of the three, though, he was the only one who chose his own rescue. And that changes a lot about how he interacts; yeah, he might have trapped himself into said rescue, but he did run to the Jedi on the ridiculously convoluted thinking that if they were weak because of compassion, then that weakness would save him, which is paradoxical, but he was a very hurt and terrorized sixteen year old, so there you go. Any which way, he’s too messed up to even start to function outside of a structured environment, so between his own choice to be there and the detangling of his brainwashed thought patterns, he gets a lot of remedial socialization in a fairly short period of time and responds to it because he chose that. And honestly, he’s still young enough there that even if he thinks he’s a monster, he hasn’t had his ability to feel lonely and isolated broken from him, so he’s a lot more receptive to gestures of friendship. He’s a lot quicker to figure out that his prior isolation was by design and to then go forth and defy that design. And, too, he’s a kid who’s never in his life had a genuine caretaker, and now he has a couple adults -- Qui-Gon and Vokara -- who are old enough and stable enough and with enough authority to keep him in line and show him the right way to deal with things. Like, you’d think punishing the kid by making him babysit little kids is mean, but it was exactly what he needed; not only to ‘pay’ for body-dropping Quin and underage drinking, just to satisfy his own fucked up mental wiring, but to learn that he does have boundaries that he’s supposed to stay inside of, healthy sensible boundaries, and also Qui-Gon’s reasoning for sending him to the creche to work was perfect.
Like legit, @shadowmaat hit a gold mine of brilliance with Archix Clan and then Vos Encounter. That punishment was brilliance. It was designed to impart a lesson or several, in a gentle manner, and oddly I think that did more good for Maul than almost anything else could have. The rules were clearly defined, the punishment was in line with them, he got to show just how naturally good -- if unrefined -- he is at being a teacher himself, and the sheer level of patience he’s capable of. He gets trusted with the safety of a whole bunch of children and even when he makes mistakes, their trust and innocence means so much to him that he has a fairly infinite fuse with them. That’s how, not terribly long later, he can forgive Vos, even if not forget. And really, it’s this that settles a lot of things in his head: He answers to Master Jinn, and if he gets in trouble, he’s supposed to think things through and ask for help if he needs it, because like, that’s exactly what role he was filling in here or there for the crechelings. LOL! So, by Gambit, he defers to his elders and calls for Obi-Wan and even though it’s all initially hard on him, emotionally, he copes and leans on his support network and does pretty amazingly well for what he started like. And these are all the foundations that, in three or four years, will lead to him poking his big brother and rough housing and being the genuinely delightful young adult he often turns into when you put him in the right circumstances.
Whereas, in three or four years, WM!Maul was a hardened assassin and a mental disaster. Everything he was came down to his blade and his skill and his ability to kill. He managed to hang onto some things which were sign of how lonely he actually was -- I’ve gone over them before -- but his entire concept of self-worth was so tied to being Sidious’s apprentice, because this was the only way any of the abuse and manipulation and awfulness made sense.
I’ve always maintained that Maul was an understandable crazy before Lotho Minor. He reacted to life exactly how you would expect a thinking, feeling, reasoning person to if you stuck them in those same circumstances. He tried to make sense of his own abuse through any lens that kept an identity intact for him, including internalizing it as something he required. He tried to find ways to avoid more of it, all while telling himself it was making him stronger. He was slavishly, painfully loyal to Sidious. He was insecure and desperate for any approval, because that was his only compensation in life; he also regularly, narratively, beat himself up pretty badly for wanting even that. Sidious had that boy so twisted up that Maul could and did abuse himself when his Master wasn’t around to do it for him for the audacity to want approval.
That’s something I -- and I have a feeling a bunch of you -- get, too. That internalized self-hatred, where the voice in your head tells you that wanting even basic acknowledgment of your accomplishments and even existence is wanting too much. It being somehow a burden. That you should be above needing such things and that if you’re not, that makes you bad, that makes you a failure.
GoT:A Maul has some of that; even after years of having a wonderful family and a beautiful world, when something hurts him enough, he has to refight that war all over again, between the part of him that’s prone to self-abuse and the part of him that knows better. And he’s the one who got out earliest, though one can make a solid argument that his time in prison shattered him further. Taking Flight Maul has internalized the hell out of it, enough that when Qui-Gon is holding up a mirror and asking him if he would judge Issa the same as he does himself, in the same circumstances, everything in him is fighting that because she’s good and he’s not and has never been.
Both of them, though, struggle so hard because they’re still capable of fighting their conditioning in a more overt way; they’re more capable of realizing it’s even there and then fighting it. It’s hard, and there are a lot of psychological meltdowns involved; there’s a lot of time and work that goes into it.
WM!Maul, though, actually doesn’t. He’s the one who survived Theed and was canon right up to immediately after that battle, and even ten years later, he’s only starting to grasp boundaries. He’s only starting to figure out who he is and what his purpose is. And man, he’s exhausted. The other two both had periods where you could feel how achingly tired they were while writing them, where they were shaking off the brutality they’d survived. WM!Maul is the same way, in terms of being just-- worn out, but you can’t call ten years of stagnation rest. Because it wasn’t. The closest he comes is in And in between the moon and you, and that’s mostly because he has a support network and quiet and he doesn’t have to hide his relationship. Even then, he doesn’t get enough time there. Of the three, he’s the one still due a reckoning in that regard and eventually it does come; of the three, too, he’s the one with the deepest scars and the least number of strategies to cope with them. The one who still suffers serious PTSD blackouts and occasionally panic-attacks, the one who struggles so hard with words and expressing himself. He’s tough, make no doubts about that, but he’s been walking wounded for a long time and unfortunately, it takes more than a loving Jedi and a best friend (and eventually eleven -- then twelve -- brothers) to do something about that.
I suppose all this rambling has a point. LOL! I’m not sure why I’m all up in GoT:A right now, except that it helps me learn something about the other two that I need to know. Some of it, in GoT:A, is figuring out who Breha is; she isn’t a main in WM, so learning about her means understanding her in a context where she is. Some of it, though, is also figuring out more of Maul and Bail, too; what it is in them that responds to one another the way they do, because even if they’re lovers in one timeline and best friends in the other, they’re still dear to each other regardless of how it manifests, and how important that is can’t be stated enough. That friendship is life-changing for both of them.
Anyway. My rambling. I unabashedly love questions and deep thoughts on anything I do, so feel free. Please. (I might beg, even.)
#maul#game of thrones: alderaan#taking flight#witness me#but probably also relates to any others i write one off or not
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What He Never Had - Part 4
Title: What He Never Had
Pairing: Reader x Sam
Word Count: 1,415
Warnings: Witches/spells
Summary: Sam Winchester has a history of his relationships ending poorly, something you didn’t know when you hooked up with him the next morning. After something goes very wrong the next morning, he has the option to right the wrong and let you go, or hope that you can still reciprocate the feelings he has for you when all is the way it’s supposed to be. Your time together would change both of your lives forever, but it’s up to Sam as to whether the change would happen at all.
A/N: Most of this is told from Sam’s POV, but some is from the reader’s perspective. It takes place in Season 12; however, this story diverges from canon. For the sake of this fic, please ignore the season’s timeline and major plot.
What He Never Had Masterlist
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“Did you find out who she is?” Sam’s voice was hard to hear through the motel window, but here you were, pressing your ear against the glass to try and figure out why he couldn’t take the call in front of you. You knew it was Dean that was calling since you’d seen the caller ID and nobody else ever called him, but for some reason, Sam had excused himself outside instead of answering it like he normally did.
He was quiet for a moment before you heard him groan. You watched through the gap between the curtains as he ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed it over his face. Chewing on your lip, you pressed your ear against the window again.
“—the bunker for possible spells,” Sam was saying. “I need to know what kind of spell it is, and if she’ll get hurt because of it. I can’t be responsible if she something happens to her, Dean. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.” He paused, a strange expression on his face.
“What? No! I’m not falling for her, I just—” Sam gave an annoyed sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Call me back later.” You scrambled away from the window and went back to the bed, sitting on the edge and focusing your eyes on the TV just as Sam stepped back into the motel room. He was giving you a nervous look when you turned to smile at him.
“Everything okay?” you asked, your happy expression fading. You could tell the smile he gave you was forced.
“Yeah.” He was quiet for a moment as he set his phone down on the table, clearly still lost in his thoughts. You turned your attention back to the movie playing on the grainy TV, waiting for him to say something. “Hey, Y/N? Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” you replied with a grin. Your feeble attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. Sam pressed his lips together and looked down at the floor. Grabbing the remote off the bedspread, you turned off the film so you could give him all of your attention. Sam rested his weight against the back of one of the chairs as you moved to sit cross-legged. He was silent again and you waited, somewhat nervous to hear what he would ask. Your thoughts kept wandering back to what he had said to Dean on the phone about falling for somebody. Sam had already fallen for you—he’d proposed just over a year ago—and it made you both anxious and angry to even think that he could be falling in love with another woman while he was engaged to you.
“What do you remember about us? I mean, about our relationship before this past week,” Sam clarified. You stared at him for a moment, confused.
“What do you mean ‘before this past week?” you asked. Sam chewed on his lip. You could practically see the restless thoughts bouncing around in his head, wondering if you were seeing through his careful questioning.
“I mean… What’s our story? Tell me about how we met, the dates we’ve been on, how I proposed…” He trailed off and you scoffed. Your anxiety was long gone now.
“Are you telling me you forgot all of that? Everything? I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if you suggested that you forgot a few minor things, but this is ridiculous, Sam.”
“Humor me. Please?” You watched him, unsure if he was kidding or not. Finally, you took a deep breath and thought back as far as you could remember, searching your memory for the moment you’d met Sam Winchester. You frowned when you realized you couldn’t remember. Sam was watching you, his eyes filled with apprehension.
“Um… Well, we went on normal dates like other couples. You know, dinner, movies, bowling…” As the words left your mouth you realized how flimsy your answer was and your heart clenched. Your mind was racing as you tried to figure out why you couldn’t remember the things he was asking of you. You couldn’t think of how you had met, any specific dates you’d been on, inside jokes, or any presents you’d given each other for Christmas, anniversaries, and birthdays. For the things you could remember, the details were cloudy; you could only truly remember how long you’d been dating and that you were engaged. Thinking harder, you realized that you couldn’t remember how Sam had proposed at all. Unconsciously, you touched your ring finger, noticing almost immediately that it was empty of any semblance of an engagement ring. You hadn’t really thought about having a ring before, and now you could see that neither you nor Sam were wearing rings of any kind. Slowly, you looked up to meet Sam’s gaze.
“You can’t remember any of it, can you?” he whispered. You shook your head, tears filling your eyes as your breath caught in your throat. He crossed the gap separating the two of you in one big step and cupped your face in his hands, kneeling on the carpet in front of you so he was almost at eye-level. You looked down as he used his thumbs to brush away the tears spilling onto your cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Sam. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” you sniffled. You felt like a complete failure and it was utterly humiliating. Sam shook his head and pulled you into his arms. His grip around you was tight and you relaxed against him, sniffling and letting his presence comfort you.
“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not upset. I’m not upset with you.”
“But you should be,” you replied, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rush-hour traffic outside your motel. “I can’t remember anything, and I lost my ring! Why aren’t you wearing yours, Sam? What happened to our rings?” Distress filled your voice and Sam started rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. The rings don’t matter right now. We can figure out the rings later,” Sam said. He pulled out of the hug to look at you, and you sobered up a little when you saw how serious his expression was. Your heart began to flutter in your chest again, anxiety causing its rhythm to grow unsteady.
“Y/N, if I ask you something, do you promise to answer me honestly, even if it sounds crazy?” he questioned. You nodded, somewhat hesitant at his request. Sam moved to sit on the edge of the motel bed beside you, the side of his knee barely resting against yours. “When we went to breakfast at the diner after we had that fight, something happened to you when you went to the bathroom. I don’t know what it was, but I really need you to tell me everything you remember. Can you do that for me?” Confused, you stared blankly at him for a moment before looking down at your hands. Your cuticles were ragged; you tended to pick at them whenever you were worried, and you couldn’t stop yourself from picking at them even more while you thought about what Sam had asked. The whole morning was somewhat hazy in your mind. After a few minutes, however, you finally grabbed onto a solid memory.
“There was a woman in the bathroom with me,” you finally told him. “A really weird woman. I don’t… I don’t remember liking her.” Sam nodded.
“Did she have brown hair? Somewhat tall? Did she say anything to you?” he asked. His questions came faster than you could think of answers and you shrugged a little. You didn’t remember anything else, and it pained you to admit that. It suddenly seemed that you couldn’t recall a lot of things. Sam gave you a comforting smile, noticing the confusion and anguish that was no doubt written all over your face.
“It’s okay. Just keep thinking for me, okay?” You nodded in reply. Sam stood from the bed and grabbed his phone from the table.
“Where are you going?” you blurted out, wanting desperately for him to stay and comfort you some more. That’s what fiancés were supposed to do, and Sam was still your fiancé, memories or otherwise.
“I need to go call Dean about something. Just stay here and keep thinking for me, alright?” He headed back outside before you could answer, leaving you alone with your empty thoughts.
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Forever Tag List: @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @deathtonormalcy56, @purgatoan, @feelmyroarrrr, @shadowgirl077, @mogarukes, @buckysmetallicstump, @amaranthinecastiel, @jpadjackles, @d-s-winchester, @kickasscas67, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @therebel1967, @supernatural-harrypotter7, @allinhishands, @ultimatecin73, @crystallstaircase, @a-screaming-ghost, @huffleypuffelycas, @procrastinating-fallen-angel, @kittycat-cas, @dracsgirl, @deansleather, @queenindecisive, @wildfirekhaleesi-ficrec, @fuckyeahfeysand, @sandlee44, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @spontaneousam, @writingbeautifulmen, @kristaparadowski, @adaliamalfoy, @winchesterforever12, @fangirl1802, @supernaturalyobsessed, @mamaredd123, @findingfitnessforme, @a-broken-hunter, @weepingrebelhottub, @notesfromalabprincess, @dustycelt, @becaamm, @riversong-sam, @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople, @therewillbeblood, @raylin19, @maddieburcham1
Sam Tag List: @lipstickandwhiskey, @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @ezauraemmaline, @beriala, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @gryffindorable713, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @sis-tafics, @fandommaniacx, @meganwinchester1999, @samanddeanwinchester67, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @iridianuniverse, @the-morning-star-falls, @ackleslaugh, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @spnsimpleman, @faith-in-dean, @for-the-love-of-dean, @winchesterfiesta, @zanthiasplace, @pada-ackles-reads, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @shipping-people-writing-things, @tia58, @sunriserose1023, @jotink78, @babypieandwhiskey, @waywardjoy, @fiveleaf, @spn-fan-girl-173, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @samsgoddess, @notnaturalanahi , @thegreatficmaster , @megansescape , @blushingsamgirl , @impossible-box , @castiels-forbidden-angel , @everyday-supernatural-af , @nichelle-my-belle , @jared-padaloveme , @supernatural-jackles , @idreamofhazel , @wevegotworktodo , @moonriverbabe , @snowystarguardian , @phoenixia67 , @iamreadinginsecret , @growningupgeek , @20secspnfam4 , @deerlululucy , @supermoonpanda , @sleep-silent-angel , @trenchcoats-and-bees , @not-so-natural-spn , @shelovesallthethings , @memariana91 , @chelsea-winchester , @drarina1737 , @castieltrash1 , @deals-with-demons , @matteson-crazed
#swbb#sam winchester big bang#sam#sam winchester#reader x sam#sam x reader#reader x sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam fic#sam fanfic#sam fanfiction#sam winchester fic#sam winchester fanfic#sam winchester fanfiction#imagineteamfreewill#spn#supernatural#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#spn fic#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#spnfanficpond#spn fanfic pond#reader insert#jellyfish fic
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