My part of an art trade with the wonderfully talented @hobbyartist01 who requested a pic of Nesto and Hector being best bros, in either canon or my Modern AU! I chose my modern AU cause I’m garbage at drawing of the era clothing :’D 

I wanted to draw something on the phone and nothing else occurred to me to draw some "ideas" about a writing that I have planned by Marco De la Cruz linked to the Universe of my fics "Miguel and i: our story" and "Die of Love" that It will be about Marco's life mainly and so on. xD I still don't have a clear idea of what Marco's father will look like (I just named him, he will be called Rogelio xd) but Marco's mother yep (and his name will be Ivonne uwu). But hey, what I wanted to "capture" here is how Marco lives a little the absence of his parents from a very young age, changing his character quite a bit at such a young age. and then jsjaj. come out bye ~ take care take water Marco's character doesn't belong to me.

Hi, it’s been a long time! First of all, I would like to apologize for taking so long to update but a mix of busy with my life and feeling un-motivated to write prevented me from finishing this chapter sooner, Hopefully, future ones wouldn’t take as long.

Chapter 5: Widow Arrives and Murderer Arrested

Imelda looks out the window, staring blankly at the fast-moving scenery as the train moves closer to Mexico City. Her face is an expressionless mask, brown eyes not taking in the shifting landscape as her mind wanders back to yesterday’s events.

After Chicharrón explained to her the details of her husband death and Imelda shook herself out of the shock that the one responsible for her husband’s demise was his best friend and brother in all but blood, the now-widow made the decision to accompany Chicharrón back to Mexico City so she could personally identify Héctor’s body and bring it back to Santa Cecilia.

She then put on a strong, serious face before reentering her home to inform her daughter and brothers that she would be gone for a few days. Her brave facade had almost cracked when Coco had asked if she was bringing Papa home, but Imelda managed to keep herself composed and told the little girl that yes, she was bringing him home (which technically wasn’t a lie. Oscar and Felipe weren’t fooled, however, as they knew their sister well and had realized that something was wrong. Fortunately, they knew better than to pry and Imelda trusted them to take care of Coco in her absence.

Now, as the scorching noon sun beat relentlessly as the train bound towards Mexico City steadily chugging its way over the rails, Imelda finds herself unable to still her mind.

‘Héctor is dead.’

This single thought constantly repeats itself over and over in her head like a broken record, refusing to stop. Often, other thoughts related to this one made themselves know, like-

‘Héctor was murdered. He was murdered by Ernesto. He killed the love of my life. He killed Coco’s papa.’

-as well as words of denial from the part of her that believes and hopes that this is all some kind of joke, terrible prank. That when the train arrives at Mexico City, she’ll see her husband waiting at the station and smiling at her with that goofy grin of his. She’ll then hit him with her boot hard enough to knock him down to the ground as she loudly berates him for worrying her so much, gathering the attention of everyone around them. And after she’s done scolding him and Héctor starts to apologize, she will then grab him by his shirt to pull him to her level and press their lips together is a passionate kiss without any care about their audience. Once they separate after the long kiss, Héctor would apologize once more and wax poetic phrases about how much he loved her. She would still be mad (though, secretly giddy about the words) but she would still allow him to sit next to her on the train ride home. And once back at Santa Cecilia, they would go to their home and be welcomed by the twins and Coco, the little girl screaming joyfully as she tackled her Papa, happy that he was finally back. Héctor would easily pick her in his arms and spin her around, both laughing as Imelda and her brothers happily watched. The now reunited family would then enter their home together hand-in-hand.

But as much as a large part of her wants this scenario to be true, Imelda knows deep down that she will never see her husband alive again.

In the seat across from Imelda, Chicharrón alternates between watching the passing scenery and glancing at the pensive woman. Neither had spoken much save for a few words, so most of the long train ride has been spent in silence.

While Chicharrón usually wouldn’t mind the quiet, this kind of silence is filled with great tension and awkwardness that he wishes he could break. The only thing stopping him is that the man can’t think of any words to say and, even if he could think of something, he was worried that Imelda Rivera might not appreciate something that could be considered pity. Chicharrón certainly had no wish to become closely acquainted with that boot after being threatened by it yesterday. The well-crafted piece of footwear looks like it could hurt worse than his mama’s chancla!

So, Cheech keeps his mouth shut for the whole journey, not a single word escaping his mouth even when the train grows closer to Mexico City. It is only when the train conductor announces that they have arrived that Imelda is finally pulled out of her thoughts, though neither says anything yet as they pick up their luggage (including Héctor Rivera's guitar) and exit the train.

It is Imelda who finally breaks the silence once they leave the station. “So, where’s the police station?” she turns to address Chicharrón, her intense gaze boring into him.

Chicharrón gulps slightly (‘She is definitely as intimidating as Juanita!’) but manages to gesture in one direction. “Right this way.”

Imelda slightly nods and falls into step with Chicharrón as the short man guides her to the police station and closer to her (dead) husband.

They arrive at the police station after walking for a while and, after a short talk with some officers, they're led towards the basement where the morgue is located. But, as they near the door, they hear what sounds like a woman yelling loudly, Chicharrón recognizing Juanita as the voice. The officer escorting them tenses up and slowly inches closer to the door, a hand on his holstered weapon.

The door suddenly bursts open, making them all jump, and Juanita Cristo de Santos angrily marches out of the room, an angry expression on her face. Just beyond the open door, a man who looks to be a doctor has his back pressed against the wall, a look of fear in his eyes. There’s a long, metal table a little further into the small room, with something human-shaped covered in a white sheet resting on top of it.

The officer relaxes in relief that there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger, but he still looks serious and once Juanita is close, he asks, “¿Qué paso aquí?” his voice stern.

Despite her obvious anger, Juanita manages composes herself a bit and answers the officer’s inquiry, “What happened was that this pendejo,” she spats as she gestures angrily at the doctor, who flinches in response. “Was going to have poor Señor Rivera be buried in some common grave without even waiting for his family to be found.”

“What?!” came two outraged shouts from behind the officer, as Chicharrón and Imelda voice their displeasure at the news, the woman looking seconds away from pulling off her boot to cave in the doctor’s skull.

“I-It was just a s-suggestion!” stutters the medical examiner, trying to defend himself. He flinches again when three sets of furious eyes (Imelda’s, Cheech’s, and Juanita’s) turn towards him, but he continues to talk. "Since the victim appears to have been traveling very far from home, we don't know how long it would take to locate his family. And since we don't have much space in the morgue, I thought it would be for the best to bury him since it would free up space."

Though the reasons did make some sense, it didn’t mean that the three civilians were just going to accept them so easily. The officer sighs again, this time in exasperation rather than relief, he really wants a drink right now despite the early hour.

Imelda, meanwhile, scoffs and addresses the still cowering doctor, “Well, that won’t be necessary since I’m here and I’ll be taking my husband home to give him a proper funeral as he deserves. She ignores the pain stabbing at her heart when she talks about burying Héctor, not willing to look weak in front of others.

“Señora Rivera,” the officer sighs for the third time in the last hour, “we still need you to identify in our victim is your husband, and we still need to finish our investigation before we can talk about sending anyone home and funerals.”

Imelda's anger is immediately forgotten at the reminder of what she came down here for in the first place. She releases a sigh of her own and dons a determined expression. "Right," she nods. "Let's do this." And she strides with purpose into the examination room as the doctor (who has gotten back to his feet) positions himself to remove the sheet that covers the body on the table. Outside the room, Chicharrón, Juanita, and the officer stand solemnly in waiting.

“Ready?” the doctor gently asks, but not without some wariness in his voice due to still being shaken by the recent anger directed at him. A single nod is the only response that he gets, and the sheet is removed a second later, revealing the corpse underneath it.

Imelda sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as she takes in the familiar big nose, sharp cheekbones, and messy hair. And despite that her logical side recognizes those features, Imelda can't help but feel a sense of wrongness as she stares at her husband's body. It was just so still, so quiet, two words she has never thought would be used to describe the love of her life. Héctor was never still and never quiet, always moving and dancing and singing everywhere that he went. Even in his sleep, he wasn't still, humming in his dreams as the music flowed through his head. But this, this wasn’t her Héctor. This was just his Héctor’s body, an empty shell that no longer contained the wonderful soul that she has fallen for and had a daughter with.

Her vision becomes blurry due to the tears that threaten to fall but Imelda holds them back. She can’t break down, she won’t break down, not here, not now. She needs to be strong, strong for her daughter, for her brothers and for herself. Until Héctor’s body is safely back in Santa Cecilia and given a proper burial, Imelda won’t let a single tear fall.

‘My luck might be getting better,’ thought Ernesto happily as he eats a simple breakfast of huevos rancheros in the inn that he had slept at last night. After leaving the pawn shop, he had bought some cheap new clothes to replace his somewhat tattered charro suit (which he had thrown in an alley the first chance he got) then proceeded to rent a room at a small inn. He knew that it was risky and that there was a chance that he could be caught, but Ernesto was exhausted from all the running and stressing out that he had done, and he just wanted to sleep in a bed, no matter how worn and ratty the mattress was.

He had felt much more relaxed once he woke up after a good night’s rest, more confident that things would work out after the catastrophic failure from yesterday. He still had a lot of money left over from selling the songbook, enough to buy a ticket to the next town and maybe buy a second-hand guitar once he got there. He could still salvage his dream! Sure, he no longer had the songbook, but he remembered most of the songs in it and he could still pass them as his own. Héctor's bruja of a wife couldn’t do anything since, without the songbook, she wouldn’t have any proof about who had written the songs. Besides, she was just a woman, a very terrifying woman for sure, but still a woman, one who no longer has a husband. Meanwhile, Ernesto was charismatic, handsome and most importantly, he was a man. His word held more weight than hers, especially once he became famous.

Sure, it might be harder to archive fame someplace that wasn’t Mexico City, but Ernesto had never been a quitter and he wasn’t going to become one now. This was just a minor setback, an obstacle to his way to fame that he had to overcome. But he will overcome this and any other obstacles that he encounters.

He will seize his moment!

These grandiose thoughts of future fame are interrupted when the inn’s door is thrown open and dozens of police officers storm in. The other patrons shriek in panic as the law enforcers rush through, loud voices ordering that nobody moves. Ernesto himself is frozen in shock in his seat, almost indistinguishable from a statue save his breathing as he stares wide-eyed at what's happening before him.

His panic increases when half-a-dozen stony-faced officers march towards his table and point their guns at him. The one that seems to be in-charge takes a good look at Ernesto and his stoic expression slightly breaks as the corners of his lips tug upwards in a small smirk.

“Ernesto de la Cruz,” the cold way that the officer says his name makes Ernesto feel like he is staring at Death itself. “You are under arrest for the murder of Héctor Rivera.”

A single though courses through Ernesto’s mind as he’s slammed into his table (and still uneaten eggs) and cuffed.

‘On second thought, my luck is worse than ever.'

Thought I would put my money where my mouth is and actually make an AU!!

I present the “Papa is Home” AU, or simply Cursed AU.

So basically everything is the same up until the establishment of the music ban in the Rivera household in the year 1921. After the ban is put in place, it seems as though music truly has become a curse. Each and every member of the Rivera family find that they cannot play any form of instrument, they cannot dance, and they cannot sing, no matter how hard they all try. Even the people who marry into the family seem to mysteriously lose their talents. All but one, Coco. All through her life, she remained gifted with dance. She continued dancing in secret and it granted her physical strength to her senior years. 

One by one, she watched family members try and fail to pursue music, even in the smallest degrees. Until one day, her great grandson, Miguel, appears to have the same immunity that she has. Together, they scour their long buried family history to find what exactly has placed such a plague on the Rivera family.

I’m thinking about maaaaaayyyybe writing a fic around this, but only if at least a small chunk of people want to see it xD But I hope this at least stirs some interest!

I am so unbelievably touched that someone actually wants headcanons for my AU. *Ungodly weeping sounds*

 I’m a little unsure of what to say here because they aren’t specific headcanons but....here it goes!

- Mama Coco is a very secretive woman. Throughout her years, the pain she has endured and events she seemed to be alone in experiencing, she has decided to keep most things to herself. However, she wants everyone to come to her with what troubles them. She’s the kind of person that is more than willing to help others with their problems, but refuses to let anyone see that things trouble her.

-Ernesto has no malice in his heart. He just makes some piss poor decisions. He always has.

-In life, Hector was a very smart man and was very much interested in pondering the human condition. If not for poverty and other aspects of his early life getting in the way, he could have easily been a philosopher of sorts.

- Miguel is part of his secondary school’s theater program. He’s the best little dancer they have!

-Mama Coco knows taekwondo martial arts. She took it up in 1969 when it was introduced to Mexico at the spry young age of 51. It has aided in keeping her strong and limber into her old age in tandem with her dancing ability.

Miguel’s daughter really loves her family history. 

I haven’t really come up with her name if you have a name comment down below. 

Part 1--- Part 2

Ever scene that day, Miguel reserved the book containing the letters from Mama Coco, he became obsessed with his un-named great grandfather. The letters he wrote was very detailed with everything he was doing but, one problem was he never really talked about actual locations. Like he would go on about the songs he would sing or write a new poem for her.

One thing he did discover was now he understood why Mama Coco thought that he wouldn’t just leave and never come back. This man really loved his daughter. It was like every other week I would send her like five-page letters. The date themselves proved this. But, on March 24, 1921. Then just suddenly stop. Though he was no phycologist, he understood that no one just stops writing to someone they loved so much that they would write some many pages that someone could drown in them. They would either slow down or they would write less and less till there were no more letters, but no. This man was very constant with the poems, songs, and letters he would send her.

“Why would he stop.” He asked himself.

It was dia de Los Muertos. He had read and re-read all the letters and new one thing was that he did not travel alone and was not the brains behind the operation, he was more like the side-kick to the adventure. He said the man was named Ernesto but, that was about it. The only Ernesto he could think of was De La Cruz, but he didn’t think it was the same person. After all, De la Cruz was a solo performer. He didn’t have a partner. After all, Miguel always heard about him when he would shine shoes in the plaza (even though he wasn’t exactly supposed to be there). However, the only thing that he knew was that he was a nobody from his hometown. He would play and people would listen to him. Miguel could only wish for that. He didn’t have the courage or confidence to go against his family. Maybe that’s the real reason he wanted so badly to solve the mystery of what happened to his great great grandfather. If Mama Coco was right and him not coming back after all those years apart was a misunderstanding or wasn’t what the family thought, he could finally be himself for once. He was tired of hiding in the small crawl space scared to play a few notes, fearing that anyone in his family heard him and would take away his one bit of happiness.

“Miguel!”

He was knocked out of his trance. He turned to see his Mama in his room, looking at him, concern.

“What all these?” She asked.

“NOTHING!” He yelled trying to gather all the paper up quick without ruining them. But, she grabbed one.

“Mama, please don’t tell anyone.” He begged

“These are really old letters. Who are they from?”

“Mama Coco’s… Papa.” He said keeping his voice down.

Miguel waited for her to yell at him and scold him for having anything to do with ‘that man’ but, it never came.

“Did Mama Coco give you these?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Si”

“Then, it was a gift, no? why did she give these to you?” She asked giving him the letter back.

“She asked me to solve the reason he never came back.” He said. It was the truth he just left out the fact that he wanted to bring music back into their lives.

“I see, she was the only one to believe that he didn’t truly leave her. That he didn't abandon the family.” She said looking at the letter in her hand.

“When I met your father he would take me to this one spot and we would listen to the Mariachi play from afar.”

“He listened to music?!” He said surprised.

“Si, he did. I would ask him why we could listen closer and he told me about their no music rule. He told me of him and how he left his abolita. He didn’t want that for his family. But, … even though there is this rule, Miguel it doesn’t mean it is without purpose. It was made to protect us from getting hurt. Do I agree it’s right? No, but I respect it. But, if mama Coco didn’t want this for her family then I hope that one day you can help it.” She said handing the letter back to her son.

“Just remember that tonight is dia de los Muertos. Make sure you get the Marigolds when you go into town si?”

“Yes, Mama.” He said rolling his eye but smiled to show that he was playing around.

He looked back at the letter his Mama had given him. It was the last letter he had written to her before they suddenly stopped coming. He read the letter again one last time.

Dear Coco,

           I will be home very soon, Tio Ernesto and I are going to perform in front of many people. Your Papa’s songs will be will remembered like our secret song. I will sing in tonight just for you mjia. Just remember I love you so much and know that I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart.

Love Papa.