abel.

[queen-of-the-southhhhh]

[abelhendrix-archive]

REGINA. 

“I do!” Her voice briefly raised in protest before she could quell it, recalling somewhere in the back corners of her mind that at any moment others from the party could glance through the windows and witness their altercation. “I mean every goddamn syllable of it.” The champagne bottle clasped in her palm seemed to tighten almost imperceptibly as the inevitable rant came. “Was that whole thing the other day your bright idea of a revenge scheme? Hey I know, let’s liquor Gina up, get her a little vulnerable, and then turn your back on her exactly like she did to you. Sounds fun. I suppose I should be proud that you learned a few tricks from me over the years.” Part of her knew that fairness hadn’t come into play this evening, after all the way in which she’d chosen to abandon Abel paled in comparison to his rejection both the other day and tonight. Still, it remained her sole vice and after recent months with men turning their backs on her nearly at the same caliber of her own father, some piece of her must have snapped under the weight. “Since we were children, I have always believed you were the best of us. Did you know that? I believed that no matter how petty, or scheming, or vindictive the lot of us could be, at least Abel never took the low road. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? You’re just as twisted as the rest of us, only you wear it better. Hidden in that stupid leather jacket and your precious cigarettes.”

         The smoke that filled his lungs with each inhale was the sole thing keeping him calm enough not to completely lose his mind. For the hostility and resentment within him was surely building, his defence mechanisms soaring at each and every one of her bitter statements. Abel was doing everything he could to deter the hope from rising, that Regina might actually reciprocate what he was feeling. That she didn’t mean to walk away. That she’d never truly wanted to. However, the thought of being rejected or hurt another time was all too unbearable, and that overpowered any vote of confidence he had in his relationship with Regina.. or, whatever it was between them. “Hold up, you’re saying I instigated what happened the other day?” A spiteful chuckle escapes his lips, unable to believe his ears. “Were you or were you not the one to turn your back and walk away?” In Abel’s rational mind, he couldn’t comprehend their relationship anymore or whether Regina was playing the game they both knew all too well — toying with one another for entertainment, to see who’d ‘win’ in the end. “I kissed you Regina, and you stopped it.” Except, to Abel, it wasn’t really a game. But the fear of losing overpowered any desire embedded within. Taking a step toward her now, his hand blatantly pointed at his chest, Abel decides instead to fight back than walk away. “Don’t you dare even try to put this on me. I’m nothing like any of you. —But I guess, now you know exactly how I felt. Hurts, doesn’t it?” 

[abelhendrix-archive]

I have a theory. Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them. I've had a lot of time to compare love and hate, and these are my observations. Love and hate are visceral. Your stomach twists at the thought of that person. The heart in your chest beats heavy and bright, nearly visible through your flesh and clothes. Your appetite and sleep are shredded. Every interaction spikes your blood with adrenaline, and you're in the brink of fight or flight. Your body is barely under your control. You're consumed, and it scares you. Both love and hate are mirror versions of the same game - and you have to win. Why? Your heart and your ego. Trust me, I should know.

THE HATING GAME

[abelhendrix-archive]

REGINA. 

“I did warn you, didn’t I?” That he would loathe her further once sobriety barreled towards them like a freight train and his mind was no longer tainted by tequila’s welcoming embrace. She nearly comments that he once shared his brother’s affinity for jaded things, practically itching to rub salt in the wound at his expense. However it’s the pointed remark about his presence being for Milo alone which strikes a coldness to her voice. “I would expect nothing less of you.” Even his laugh contains not a singular shred of the jovial nature she recalled in the few times it’s been heard over the years. Something about that bothers the brunette, the mocking nature of it almost irksome. “Everything on my terms, mi amor. Attention included.” An endless penchant for control. “And I’m my father’s daughter,” her own temper only ever matched by the man standing before her now. “You’re excused.” 

Regina watched him disappear into the crowd towards the balcony and remained in place, stewing over what strangely felt like a loss. Her former flame possessing the upper hand for once, a right he seemed to have secured from the moment their lips met in that office. He’d knocked her out of sorts that afternoon and she still had yet to recover. Mild inebriation felt like a sin tonight and so she reached for a champagne bottle off a nearby tray, drinking some of the contents before towing it along as she approached the balcony door. It must have been her expression, or perhaps the vindictive demeanor she wore, but the two other party goers nearby seemed to take the hint and leave her with him in the blustery New York evening.

“Fuck you.” Gone is any semblance of her usual poise, the words pouring out with all the grace of red wine spilled on a white carpet. 

       If there was anything that attracted him most over the years to Regina Salazar, it was the force of nature that she was, a force to be reckoned with. Like a tornado with means for destruction, Abel couldn’t do anything but survive it. The Salazar and Hendrix family had grown up in parallels, always being accustomed to that of the Salazar ‘temper’, including her own. But the care he felt for her was also his kryptonite, constantly biting him in the ass over the years because during every bitter interaction or jealous tendency, Abel got his hopes up. He says nothing to her, the clench of his jaw enough to convey the inner workings of his mind as his eyes search her own, the slightest hint of melancholy present between them. And with that, he situates a cigarette between his lips, giving her one last glare before moving past her and heading out for fresher air. Ironic, considering he was only going to inhale nothing but nicotine. 

        Abel’s facing the city when he hears the french doors open, the air suddenly tainted with a familiar, demanding voice tainted with vengeance. Her words sting like that of prolonged ice on an affected area, but he doesn’t let it be known, or so he thinks. Turning around, he’s face to face with Regina again, part of him feeling satisfaction over the fact that she couldn’t let it go.. and there reigned hope, hope that was constantly feeding on their inability to stay away from one another. Hope, that only fuelled his inability to let go of her completely. A cloud of smoke escapes Abel’s lungs, eyes narrowing at her slightly as he analyses her, the air between them as glacial as the crisp November New York night. If there was one thing Abel was, it was daring, fuelled by a confidence reserved solely for Hendrix genes.           “You don’t mean that.” 

[abelhendrix-archive]

REGINA. 

“Someone’s still bitter, I see. I take it you didn’t like our last chat then?” Not that she intended to blame him, however her tone might imply otherwise as the brunette released an amused chuckle at his expense. “As long as Milo is happy,” she repeated with a nod, never intending to argue with that notion. Their own little spat be damned if it meant Milo would enjoy the happiest of birthdays, no drama attached. “This may come as a shock to you, but some people actually enjoy my company. Your brother included.” Even as she speaks her hues relegate to the outline of a cigarette box in his pocket, an almost knowing smile beginning to cross soft features as she gauges his desire for one of the sticks. It’s only when two girls take pause nearby to watch their little back and forth that Regina is broken from her brief reverie to address them with a venomous tongue. “Do you mind? This conversation doesn’t include either of you.” As quickly as they materialized, both girls scurried in the opposing direction before disappearing within the throngs of Upper East Side elite. “I do hate unwarranted attention.” And people attempting to pry when Abel’s attention was so thoroughly set on herself, regardless of his negative outlook at the moment. "Where was I? Ah yes, you’ve always been one to hold a grudge. Whether it’s deserved or not.”

       “Bitter? Quite the contrary, actually,” Abel counters, brow furrowing as he narrows his eyes at the other. “I feel relieved. A little regretful about certain aspects of our last chat but, won’t be making that same mistake again.” The eldest Hendrix sibling rolls his eyes at her defence of her friendship with Milo, wishing to hear none of it considering he was consumed with the bitterness he so conveniently denied mere seconds prior. “Yes, well, that’s where my taste and Milo’s differs, amongst other things.” Style, life choices in general.. “But, I’m not here to mock my brother’s shortcomings. I’m here for him, and him only.” Abel felt the fire need to emphasise that particular fact to his Salazar counterpart, not wishing to give her a thread of satisfaction about anything, his feelings already butt-hurt. He pays no mind to the two girls who’d formed something of an audience, leaving it all up to Regina as he focuses his attention instead on some passing champagne glasses. He snags one for himself, immediately downing the entire contents before placing the empty glass back upon the tray. “Really? I’d’ve said otherwise.” A short, bitter-tainted laugh falls from his lips as he shakes his head, pulling his deck of cigarettes out of his pocket and focusing his gaze on what would soon give him reason to escape the gruelling interaction. It was hard to look at her this way, knowing their last interaction, their history, and not be able to kiss her. “Well, I am my father’s son. And in this case, it’s most definitely deserved.” He props a cigarette between his fingertips, gesturing with his hand toward the balcony nearby. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to attend to.” 

[abelhendrix-archive]

REGINA.

The birth of her very closest confidante deserved a whole host of elaborate decor and activity, however the model settled for an ostentatious affair at her own penthouse overlooking the city. It would have to do for his thirtieth celebration and with recent events in mind, she presumed that Milo would not wish for anything more public than this. The guest list is what takes her a moment to swallow, her pride near clawing at a slender throat before she chokes it back and sends the infamous text to the singular person with whom she would rather inhale a knife than speak with once more. The shock of his appearance tonight wears off within the hour as she downs her weight in vodka, attempting to drown out the memory of a touch so damn addicting it could knock her totally off-kilter. Avoidance cannot be maintained forever, his address more infuriating than if she hadn’t let slip vague truths at all. “Abel.” It echos with a calm detachment, as if she were addressing any other party goer with whom she shared a mild acquaintanceship with. “You’ve been avoiding me, guapo.” To be expected, considering their most recent encounter, but she would be denying herself if Regina admitted that it didn’t sting to know that he maintained his final words to her: just wanted to be sure I was done, and now I know — I definitely am. Even now it grated on her every nerve, such rejection enough to force an impenetrable lump in her throat. “Enjoying the party?”

        If he had’ve chosen otherwise, Milo never would’ve forgiven him for being such a shitty brother. And really, he wasn’t missing out on his little brother’s birthday, even if it meant entering his practical arch nemesis’ home. His fingertips fumble with the deck of cigarettes in his pocket, itching to relieve himself of the nerves that had suddenly spiked within his core, the mere sight of her unsettling. And in all honesty, unbearable. He was ashamed of their last drunken encounter, only causing guilt to burrow within him as he remembers the few drinks he’s downed since arriving. He wasn’t, however, going to make the same mistake as last time if it killed him. The mere sound of Regina’s voice ignites goosebumps along his skin, jaw clenching with vexation as he concentrates on her features. “I haven’t been avoiding you, Regina,” purposely leaving out his usual nickname for her, resentment still very much at play within. “I’ve just been carefully choosing my company. I want to enjoy my little brother’s birthday. Until now, of course.” He usually wasn’t so careless in throwing petty comments her way, at least not in the obvious fashion he was now. But, Abel was mad. And when he was mad, there was no telling where his temper might lead him. He was, after all, Matteo Hendrix’s son. “As much as I can, really. But what does it matter. As long as Milo is happy, right? Even if it is held in the confines of a Salazar.” The eldest Hendrix was practically itching, itching for a cigarette now. 

[abelhendrix-archive]

« ♤ starter for @rcginasalazar »

        It’s Milo’s birthday. The phrase he’d repeated in his mind a million times over for days now, all in an attempt to convince himself that he had to go, regardless of his ill feelings towards the night’s hostess. The text from Regina came completely unexpected after their last encounter, but it simultaneously relieved him and unnerved him that it was regarding Milo’s birthday. Relieved him considering it wasn’t some random opportunity to irritate him even further after their.. interaction. Unnerved him because she was hosting his brother’s birthday at her apartment. Unnerved him because he was cornered. Unnerved him because he had no choice but to go. And mostly, it unnerved him because it was about his brother’s birthday and not about anything else. He’d spent most of the night keeping her in his peripheral so as to avoid any possible crossing of paths or interaction, feeling that avoiding her and the situation entirely was his best bet right now. And all it takes is for a momentary distraction having a drink with his brother and friends for Abel to turn around find the familiar, striking brunette not even a foot or two away, their eyes locking almost instantly. His stomach dropped, his focus zoned in on swallowing the rising lump in his throat before managing a croaky, but bitter, “Regina.” 

[qotsgifs]

[abelhendrix-archive]

REGINA.

She hadn’t anticipated his movements, how in her attempts to break them from this spell he would quiet rational speaking and rest dark irises on her own. Their gazes linger on one another, drunken truths spilling from each person’s hues as they attempt to impart every distinctly hidden thought onto one another for the briefest moment. In his own eye line, there is an unadulterated honesty that she cannot face, yet desires all the same. It’s the admittance without words, a silent confirmation that he still wanted her— despite all that Regina had done when she tore them apart with callous actions, despite the continued harm she thrust upon him by pouring salt into the open wounds for two years. Abel Hendrix still craved every ounce of her. How long had she spent searching for this feeling? A revolving door of men and women led to nothing except almost’s and dead ends, the true person who accepted her now entangled in her arms as they wrapped around his neck. The shock of this revelation is enough to stifle her better judgement, cautioned words falling to the wayside as he leans in once more to remind her of every beautiful memory she’d been running from since the night they fell apart. There is so much more she longs to tell him, secrets hidden away at the edge of her fringed thoughts, but they lodge somewhere in her throat and refuse to emerge. So she stifles them within the sanctity of another kiss, almost content to remain in his grasp were reality not dancing along the outskirts of their embrace. “I’m sorry.” The whispered concession tumbles out and for once, Regina is no longer in control of the situation at hand. Too many emotions are blossoming on her tongue, a threat to the well crafted façade she’s worn since the end of her adolescence. “I should go, I should—” Leave him. Again. Forever flitting in and out of Abel’s life like a malevolent phantom whose only intentions were to dangle herself in front of the man before pulling away once again. It was never supposed to become this. “I’m so sorry.” For everything.

        It was like dangling candy in front of a child; candy within one’s grasp, but not enough to get a complete hold. In Abel’s mind, Regina had always held power over him, dangling possibilities right in front of him before tearing it away from him entirely. And the sudden amount of dejection he feels after she pulls away and breathes a number of unintelligible apologies and excuses, is far too overpowering for his liking. Far to akin to the feelings that had consumed him just years prior, the last time she’d left. Abel had done this to himself; knowing that Regina was a tempting fate, but a dangerous one at that. Their games constantly left him feeling as though she had the one up, and he with nothing but regret and shame over the fact that he’d let himself be played yet again. And in a childlike manner, he pulls away completely, disallowing himself from noticing any genuine regret or pity in her eyes. After giving her the longest glare known to man, a shake of the head later, and the eldest Hendrix grabs whatever’s left of the bottle of tequila, turning away from her entirely as he manoeuvres towards his desk. “You’re right. This was stupid,” his walls instantly prevailing now, taking a lengthy swig of the tequila which would surely come to bite him in the ass later. “Ah, well, just wanted to be sure I was done, and now I know — I definitely am.” 

[abelhendrix-archive]

REGINA.

“That depends on your answer.” A concept never considered before today, but it grates on her all the same as she imagines a time in which a ballad written specifically about the model might have been used to seduce another. There blooms a certain jealousy, a shade of possessiveness not often shown. Within seconds it becomes startlingly apparent that the lioness has been cornered, though she doesn’t fight it nor comment at his ability to demand her attention by presence alone. Like what? Regina forgets how to breathe let alone answer his question with even a fragment of concise thought, darkened gaze trained on the man in front of her as if daring his next move. His response is silence, per regularity for Abel Hendrix, though she senses the underlying anger stemming from her rather vague revelation. There was so much more to be told, details she couldn’t quite allow herself to unearth about why leaving him felt like a more solid choice than allowing him to love her. It’s when he turns around that her lips part, wordlessly planning to let herself out before instead catching his kiss with a soft gasp. Something about him is even better than she remembered, blame it on the alcohol or nostalgia flooding her veins, but his touch echoes with a familiarity that feels like coming home. She’ll never tell him as much, fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt until they part momentarily for breath. “Quiero esto, pero…” Realizing she’s slid into her mother tongue, she corrects herself. “You’re drunk— I’m drunk. I don’t want to sober up tomorrow and have you hate me for this, too.” Still, she leans in once more as teeth glide effortlessly along his lower lip almost as a beckoning taunt. “We’re so stupid.”

        Maintaining a steady gaze with her own, his eyes brimming with unasked questions and temptations and a softness reserved solely for her, Abel can’t help but feel at war with himself. Giving someone like Regina honesty meant knowledge, and knowledge was power; and if there was one thing that reigned true, it was that he didn’t trust her. How could he after the way they’d parted? How could he when she had such a devastating hold over him, holding the power to break him into a million little pieces at first word?! It was a matter of minding whether she’d hold that information against him, whether he had enough of a one up on her to counteract any attempt at tormenting him the way she did. “Never.” And it was decided; complete and utter honesty at Regina’s beck and call. Some habits die hard. With their closing proximity, Abel struggles with keeping the distance.. for falling in step with the past felt too enthralling over any rational thought about their present or future. Every pain forgotten, if only for a little while. The moment their lips meet, Abel can’t help the wave of familiarity that overwhelms him, their kiss soft, desperate. She tastes like old memories and nostalgia; as sweet as honey and as sinful as wine. And slowly, Abel can feel himself crumble beneath the weight of it all. His hand neatly cupped around the nape of her neck, the other finding home around her waist as he presses her flush against him. Their kiss evokes unspoken words, two years of resentment and heartbreak, and a hell of a lot of resurfacing feelings. If only he could freeze this moment in time.. A breathless, weighted sigh manages to escape his lips as they part, briefly; only then noticing the pounding sensation within his chest. If ever there was a time to walk away from her, it would be now. If there was ever a time to be rational and let his realistic tendencies take hold, it would most certainly be now. To end it before risking any further damage. And yet, there he was, desperately holding onto the faint tether between them. Maybe it was the intoxication from the alcohol, maybe it was the inability to fight against those surfacing desires. An inability to turn away from the one he longed for. Call him weak; weak for her. But he couldn’t help himself. “Ssh..” Abel shakes his head ever so slightly, his gaze only momentarily leaving Regina’s lips to meet her eyes, fearful if he looked into them for too long he might just find the strength to walk away. His thumb caresses the soft of her cheek as he takes her in, just enough before succumbing to his innermost desires as his lips find rhythm with her own again. Their kiss a little less soft this time, filled with yearning as he presses her back against the bar, hand running down the length of her side. She tasted like everything he’d been missing. 

[richardmaddan]

[richardmaddan]

#I see you James #Looking at Teresa with your puppy eyes (⺣◡⺣)♡*

[abelhendrix-archive]

@rcginasalazar

[gargoyles42]

[qotsgifs]

[joaquin-vasquez]

qotsgifs‌:

James looking soft and sexy af in that dark blue hoodie. 

[gargoyles42]

“James I think is the most fun because he has a lot of hair. Thick, beautiful hair. I don’t think he likes makeup but he does like to come sit in the hair chair.” - Joann Stafford-Chaney, Hair Stylist (The Hairstyles of Season 2)

[qotsgifs]

[abelhendrix-archive]

REGINA.

“Some,” she repeats, though the ghost of a smile adorns her features at the thought that perhaps Abel hadn’t been left in utter misery after her departure. “Tell me, did you ever play them for other girls? My songs, I mean.” A foolish question, but it rolls off her tongue regardless, spurred by a certain brand of jealousy. It wasn’t her place to ask and she knew just as well yet cannot help the sudden craving to know if their sentiments were unique or simply recycled for the next pretty faced groupie who came across his path. It’s the lightness in his features that catches her off guard, a sort of jovial youthfulness missing each time they met before now. Her fault, of course. She never allowed for these conversations, always keeping Abel at arm’s length and battered by a sharp tongue. “Me? Playing innocent? You must be drunk.” Though the curvature of her own mirrored smirk only served to prove his point in full. For once, he’s knocked the model off her game she does not chastise him for use of an old nickname. “I was sixteen, full of hormones, and you were my best friend’s handsome, rebellious older brother. There were too many things I wanted you to do, mi amor. None of them fit for public.” Their proximity should have engaged some sort of fight or flight in the brunette, a desire to escape such a precariously emotional situation or force him back with cruel words, yet neither came as she settled her empty glass down on the surface behind herself. “Like I’m the worst mistake you ever made.” She turns to face him once more, expression unreadable as she attempts and fails to don her usual mask of indifference only to leave herself more vulnerable than before. Fucking tequila. “Was I?”

       “Why, are you jealous?” He dares to ask, his soft browns analysing her own in utter curiousity, the tension between them more prevalent than ever before. It gave him ample amount of confidence to know he still got under her skin; to know that she remained jealous even after their years of parting. Another swig of the tequila and he places the bottle aside, completely unaware of the ongoings of his club or the fact that they’d ordered food to soon arrive, or that he was standing dangerously close to someone who exuded nothing but temptation out of him, mere presence daring him to toy with his matters of the heart. “Like what?” Hand pressed against the bar countertop, Abel continues to search her eyes, both of them nearing what could only be described as a mistake on both their parts, considering rational thinking was completely out the window. In fact, Abel didn’t need alcohol to feel intoxicated by the Salazar’s presence, but it sure did help in muting those thoughts that screamed at him not to give in to temptation. Not to do the sole thing he so desired. Not to fall into a trap of being stung by Regina Salazar all over again. And yet with her admission of truth came the sole excuse he’d been looking for to do exactly what he’d wanted to do all along. His features are taut, angered, as though arguing with himself. He turns away, running his hand down his face as he continues to contemplate his next actions. A clenching of the jaw and a mixture of emotions coursing through him, Abel can feel himself succumbing to the dark side. A weighted sigh, swirling of thoughts. Rationality be damned. Instead of answering, he turns around and lowers his head to capture the brunettes lips with his own with such ravenous desire, one might’ve thought he’d been starving with an insatiable hunger for years.