#Steve you beautiful gringo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jksprincess10 · 1 year

Note

can I request Javier x fem reader meeting at the airport, he’s there to pick up Steve and she is there because she just left her own country? They meet at the airport bar, you do the rest!! Thank you :)

I don't know if you expected something like this, but I hope you still like it. It's very angsty.

CW: Canon violence, smoking, alcohol, Javi and reader are assholes, death, suspenseful ending.

“Why are you here?”

The sudden voice of a masculine voice startled you. You turned your head to look at him. Fancy shirt, tight pants, sunglasses loosely sitting in his pocket. Pretty brown eyes, long lashes, a mustache that was well taken care of. He had a whiskey glass in hand.

“Is this an interrogatory?” You asked as you laid back in your chair. You didn’t want to show your fear; you knew Columbia was dangerous.

“Just wondering what a pretty girl was looking for in this god-forsaken country.” He said as he leaned his arm against the wooden bar. His gaze followed each of your movements, like you were some kind of prey.

“I’m here for a friend.”

You gave him half-truths. Your friend had fallen hard in the arms of drugs since she came here for family. She was with the wrong people, and she was working as a prostitute to make ends meets. You were here to watch over her or try to get her out of here.

“You?” You asked innocently.

“Picking up a fresh gringo.”

“I see.” You looked at the time, your friend Isabella should be outside, waiting for you. “I have to go.”

“Be careful, beautiful.”

You gave him a last look, before you disappeared.

Isabella’s appartement was such a mess, you could barely stay. You tried to convince her to stay at your hotel with you, but she refused. She feared anything bad would happen to you.

Turns out she was working for Escobar’s cartel; they were her all her regulars. They paid well, but she burned everything in drugs.

You watched the train crash from afar.

Until someone found you and found a way to get your friend out of this situation. You had been given a name, Javier Pena, and a number. On the phone, you told him where to meet you, and that you had information on Escobar’s next trip, where he would bring all his favorite hookers. You were scared for Isabella, but you couldn’t go with her.

You were hoping the DEA agents could follow them and stop this.

You waited in the lobby of your hotel when you saw the familiar stranger you had met at the airport. You frowned…could he be...? He confirmed it when he came to you and showed you his badge.

“Nice to see you again, airport stranger.” He smiled. “Where can we talk safely?”

He closed the door to your hotel room and made sure it was all safe, before you both sat in the cozy armchairs in your room.

“I had a feeling you were some kind of officer.” You said.

He offered you a cigarette, but you refused, and you watched as he lit one for himself.

“So, tell me what you know.” He said as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Escobar is bringing his favorite prostitutes to Miami. He’s thinking of doing some kind of… big reunion. Important names are gonna be there. I… I just want my friend to be safe. Please. Can you get her out of this?” As you kept talking, your voice was getting shakier.

“I’ll do everything that I can, I promise.”

“I don’t want you to do just everything that you can, Javier, I want you to save her.”

The agent put his hand on your knee, and you followed his gesture with your watery eyes.

“I’ll put your friend under informant protection, but she has to accept.”

“She won’t.”

“I’m sorry, then, hermosa… Some of our contacts will follow them to Miami and ensure little casualties are done. But I can’t guarantee anything.” Javier crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, before getting up. “I wish I would’ve seen you again in other circumstances.”

“I’m not in the mood for flirting.” You scoffed. “Please, leave.”

He nodded and left after leaving you his information.

Days later, in the early hours of the morning, you heard a knock on the door of your hotel room. You put on your dressing gown, and looked through the peeking hole to see Javier standing there. You opened the door and let him in, before locking it after him.

“Do you have news from the operation in Miami?”

“Yes… you may want to sit down.”

But you refused. Instead, you took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it for yourself, your intense gaze following his guilty face.

“It didn’t go as planned. There were… a lot of casualties. Your friend… was hurt in the process and died before we could do anything.”

You were stuck between anger, sadness and intense grief. With your free arm, you pushed Javier against the nearest wall, and he lifted his arms in capitulation.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly.

You took out your cigarette from your mouth and let the smoke hit his face.

“Your excuses won’t change the fact that you failed, agent Pena.”

Before he could respond, you heard the familiar sounds of gunshots. The window of your room broke in pieces, and Javier yelled at you to get down. He took out his gun and shot back, as he helped you get out of the room. You should’ve never gotten yourself into this.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #writing requests #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena angst #i kinda hate it im sorry

38 notes · View notes

tylerxm · 3 months

Text

Bésame Mucho

pair: steve murphy x javier peña (narcos)

genre: lgbtq+, smut

audience / rating: E

content: MDNI+18, heavy smut, javier being fruity with steve, they get interrupted, kiss, french kiss, sadomasoquism, bdsm, blood play, dacriphilia, anal pumping, anal fingering, edging, overstimulation, mutual masturbation (mtm), anger kink, spanish kink.

word count: 5.2k

enjoy.

The only thing that Javier Peña did not know about his partner was that he knew how to play the guitar. How?, you ask.

After finishing his job in the DEA, Steve remembered that he had a guitar lying around in his storage room, it wasn't his, but he knew no one had used it in a long time. He took advantage of it immediately; He bought some strings, learned how to change them, learned the basics like tuning them, basic chords, etc. Within a few months, he already knew all the basic and professional concepts of music theory.

He stopped playing a few months ago since he moved out, but he still had that guitar in his room.

Well, that brings us to the present.

Steve Murphy had decided to take his acoustic guitar out of his closet, enjoying that it was so clean and cared for, he was glad that everything was fine despite not having used it in a few months. Javier was in the living room using his phone, with one leg over the other and the other hand in his thigh, resting there.

Steve left his room with the guitar in hand, that caught Javi's attention, and even more so when he stood next to him, leaving the guitar between the gringo's own legs. Javier smiled slightly, putting his cell phone aside, raising one of his eyebrows.

"I didn't know you played the guitar. Now that's interesting." He said in a curious tone as always, looking at the guitar and then into the stranger's eyes. The blonde smiled slightly, that piqued Peña's interest even more.

"I started playing since we finished Escobar off , and well, you know that a lot of things have happened since then." Steve added as he ran his fingers over the body of the guitar, taking it in his hands while he looked at Peña.

"Do you want to hear me play?"

The truth is that it didn't seem like a bad plan. He loved listening to people sing or dance, he himself was a rhythmic person and loved music, except karaoke. That wasn't all.

"If you're going to let me sing, then yes."

That opened Steve's eyes, surprised by the request. He nodded as he settled down, leaving the fingers of his left hand on the frets of the guitar, without stopping to look at the Colombian. He was waiting for a request.

"I feel like I'm going to be a little outdated, but I really like an old Mexican song. Just play something that goes with D minor, G minor, D7 and E7. Apart from the fact that it is in Spanish, it would be good for me. I know you can improvise the whole song, you've heard a lot of rancheras, boliches and bachatas." His smile grew as he saw how Steve was already preparing to play.

Steve began playing the arpeggio at the beginning of the tune, always improvising, enjoying the sounds of the new, clean strings, sliding his fingers across the frets. Javi closed his eyes when he heard the beginning, enjoying the sound. His foot moved to the rhythm of the music, which was not like the original, it changed to a simpler rhythm, but more beautiful and soft. It was beautiful, why deny it?

The strumming stopped in an eighth-note silence, so Javi cleared his throat slightly, without opening his eyes to begin singing in a soft tone.

" Bésame, bésame mucho

Que tengo miedo a perderte

Perderte después.

Bésame, bésame mucho

Que tengo miedo a perderte

Perderte después. "

A small change was noticed when moving to another chorus, and Javi opened his eyes watching Steve with his eyes closed playing the guitar, his heart seemed to beat faster.

" Quiero tenerte muy cerca

Mirarme en tus ojos,

Verte junto a mi.

Piensa que tal vez mañana

Yo ya estaré lejos,

muy lejos de ti. "

Javier had changed his tone a little because of the smile that was on his lips, feeling a warm feeling because of who he thought of when singing that song, he felt stupid for thinking like a teenager.

" Bésame, bésame mucho

Cómo si fuera esta noche,

La última vez.

Bésame, bésame mucho

Que tengo miedo a perderte

Perderte después. "

The song ended with a hanging chord, Steve opened his eyes and looked at Peña. He felt as if his cheeks were slightly warm and red, but it wasn't very noticeable.

"I didn't know you sang that..."

"That...?" Javier raised an eyebrow.

"Beautiful. I can say that I felt how you merged with the song, and that you were letting yourself go. Even I didn't understand shit, I loved it. The timbre of your voice is really beautiful, Javi. It makes me feel like I want to hear more of your voice."

Peña felt his heart melt, knowing how to control his nerves at that moment as he settled with one arm, looking away slightly blushing. His stomach full of butterflies screamed to be calmed.

"I didn't know you were so cheesy, Murphy. God." He laughed as he felt a little unable to look Steve in the eye. The aforementioned left the guitar aside, he got a little closer to Javier because he was a little far away. Nothing else.

"I'm not cheesy, fuck you, it's the truth." He let out a hoarse laugh, it came from the bottom of his chest while he continued looking at the dark-eyed with those oceanic eyes. The brunette would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous and he certainly wasn't intrigued by the tone of voice Murphy had.

They remained silent for several seconds, looking at each other into the eyes as they seemed to unconsciously look at each other. Something, they didn't know what, but something, a spark was about to come out and pass but a bell interrupted them.

They were knocking on the door at the worst time. Shit.

Somehow Peña looked away and stood up to try to forget the awkward, tense and warm moment between the two of them. He somehow opened the door, a slightly awkward position. It was his aunt, somehow. They gave each other a warm hug.

"Javi! We haven't seen each other in a while, I'm glad to see you." Said the female as she passed inside, Peña closed the door while he received him warmly. He went directly to the living room table with a glass of water for the black-haired girl, Murphy had also greeted her with a hug.

"This must be your roommate, then?"

"Yes. He's my best friend. Remember when I told you about me working in the police? Well, he's been my best pal since then." He took the glass of water and delivered it to the black haired woman.

"He's pretty. You've always had pretty friends, but this one is different." Murphy got embarrassed and laughed a little, Javi frowned a little bit, now ashamed of his aunt.

"Please! Don't be like that, le estás avergonzando..." (You're making him feel ashmed...) Javi said kinda ashamed too.

"It's okay Jav, I don't mind being the spot of her attention." Steve smiled, seeing both of them talking again.

Steve kept thinking about the moment earlier, he almost kissed Javi but she ruined it, which made him jealous to a certain extent. Because? Javi and him were just friends. Why would he be jealous of someone like him being so next to eachother? Maybe it was because of the attention, because there wasn't enough attention for him, mostly because Peña's attention wasn't on him.

In the end, she wouldn't stay for too long, would she?

Night had fallen, the movie was over, and Javier's aunt was out. Steve strictly asked Peña to rest since he didn't have a good sleep in weeks, because he had already done enough for today and that he would leave it to him to clean up and so he did. Steve finished cleaning by sweeping the floor off the floor while the Latino watched what was on television, he found an old comedy movie on, and there he stayed.

Steve put aside the things he had finished cleaning, now standing next to Peña. There was a somewhat awkward silence, perhaps because they didn't know what to say after the moment they were interrupted by Javier's aunt, or because Javi was too sleepy to think.

He ended up getting up from the couch wanting to go to bed.

"I'm going to sleep, I'm done for shit." He let out a hoarse laugh between sentences, now looking at Steve with those tired eyes that seemed somewhat dominant. Steve's skin crawled.

Seeing that Peña was about to enter his room, he stood up and grabbed his good arm eagerly.

"Wait." The smallest tensed slightly as he looked at his partner turning around.

To his surprise he ended up cornered against the door of his room, opening his eyes wide without knowing what to do or how to react. What was wrong with him? And most importantly, what the hell was wrong with Steve?

The recently mentioned man's hands were on either side of the Colombian, both looking into each other's eyes. Steve returned to his normal position, somewhat nervous.

"I'm sorry for scaring you Javier, but I'm... Desperately anxious."

Peña raised an eyebrow. That day had several quite notable events. His stomach had those butterflies from before when he knew what Murphy meant, but he played dumb.

"What are you talking about? This is strange, Steve."

"What's really strange is that I can't stop wanting you."

That phrase dominated Javier's silence, whose cheeks were as red as the roses were. Steve's fingers walked delicately over the stranger's chin, caressing that area and then reaching his cheek. The taller man's cheeks also warmed as he felt Javi's free hand on his waist, since the other was intertwined with Steve's hand

His faces were close to eachother, his lips were touching and his eyes were half closed. His hot breaths mixed and burned inside as they kissed. They ended up doing it. The black-haired man's hand lightly squeezed Murphy's waist, and the gringo's hand descended to the side of the other's neck, leaving him firmly in that place. That action caused a sigh between Peña's lips.

Daringly, Javi bit the other's lower lip mischievously and smiled slightly between the kiss, then they moved on to a passionate french kiss. Steve pressed Javi's body against his without doing any damage to his arm.

The one with blue eyes ran his hand along the back of the one with black eyes, opening the door so as not to let him fall, without separating from the kiss as they entered Peña's room. There was almost no light, but it was enough to see what they were doing.

They had to separate for a moment, so Steve could lie down on the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress with Javier on his lap. He took advantage of the fact that the other person was submissive and distracted to get his hand on his waist, squeezing it lightly while he kissed his face, his neck, his ears. Peña's sight fogged slightly from the heat of both bodies and the cold of the room that would soon become warm.

Things escalated as time went by; Steve had his hands on Javi's torso, massaging it and rubbing his fingers against that area. Javi was shirtless but still with the cast on. He had his pants unbuttoned and Steve was just like him. Now the Colombian's ass was against the American's hard cock under his unbuttoned pants, both in a moment of intense heat.

He moved his hips seductively against the stranger's erection to feel that hardness against his still covered rear, somewhat desperate as he clung to the other's shoulders. They kissed again with great passion, introducing their tongue into the kiss. Javi felt Steve's hands reach his bare waist, digging his nails in, eliciting a moan from the bottom-top's lips. Maybe he would fight a little for control, but it would be difficult since he was being captive by one hand cause of Steve.

Steve's dominant hand ended up in Peña's boxers, massaging his hard cock over the fabric with a few fingers, causing Javier to break away from the kiss and puff out his chest as he hyperventilated, sighing and moaning lightly at the sensation, now thrusting into him. His nails into Steve's shoulders. He sighed at the pressure on his crotch, the strange sensation was totally new and he felt his feelings exploding like firecrackers inside him as he felt another man giving him so much pleasure.

Peña's internal battle made the American smile, an idea occurred to him.

He pulled the stranger's throbbing, wet cock out of his boxers, gently running his fingers over the glans and over the tip, watching as Pedro shuddered and tensed his body at the sensation. It's not that he didn't like him, but quite the opposite.

Steve's free hand slid into Javi's hair, who had his head resting on the other's shoulder to rest and hide his completely red face, kissing the other's shoulder to try to distract himself. However, Steve's fingers intertwined in the other's hair and he pulled on him, eliciting another moan, a little louder this time, accompanied by a growl. He let go of Javi's cock to take off his glasses, smiling mischievously.

"Eyes on me. I want to see how you squirm in the meantime." He said in a hoarse tone, kissing the other's chin and biting it, now giving more vigor to the masturbation that he was offering to Peña. The aforementioned looked at the gringo with submission and somewhat disoriented. What he was sure of was that he was going to return it to him later.

He bit back a gasp accompanied by another grunt as he tensed his shoulders. His abdomen was throbbing like crazy, his chest was rising and falling due to the hyperventilation to which he was subjected due to pleasure and heat, his eyes were shining with desire.

"Ffuck, Steve..." he expanded the 'f'. The tone of his voice increased as he felt how close he was to orgasm due to the induced onanism. He squirmed slightly and sighed, arching his back.

The blonde went back to kissing and sucking on the other's neck, covering the tip of his cock as he sighed with excitement, eagerly waiting to feel the other's insides squeeze him like the virgin he was. He wouldn't give more if his wifes found out.

The Colombian moaned between a small sob at Steve's roughness, shaking when he finally came, Steve seemed to take pity on him now that his hand was stained by the other's sperm. They both sighed between sounds, they let themselves go.

He ran his fingers gently over the other's shoulder, which had a big, not recent but hurtful opened scar. It wasn't bleeding, but it was vulnerable. He looked at him with desire and protection.

"It still hurts?"

"N..No. Not so much. Sometimes I feel sharp pain, but I'm better. Really." He smiled, now leaving his hand previously attached to the back of Steve's neck with some effort, so they could kiss again.

They both fell on the bed, Javi was still with his boxers half on and his pants on his knees, and Steve hadn't even taken off his pants.

After the kiss, they now changed the position so that the youngest was on top of the oldest. He kissed his lips passionately, wanting to taste every last drop of Javier.

The knee of the aforementioned remained in the hard crotch of the stranger, who had to separate from the kiss to take a breath and moan softly. He felt too vulnerable when Peña touched his throbbing bulge. He smiled slightly, showing his small dimples.

"Even when I am hurt I can dominate you.- The older man said with a mocking smile as he looked him in the eyes. The gringo hissed as Peña pressed his knee into his crotch.

"Well, you moaned like a whore when I was makkng you orgasm." Steve repudiated, now smiling slightly when he saw Peña's face full of surprise. But, his smile faded as he noticed how his face distorted into one full of curiosity, but more than anything, mischief.

"Do you like to denigrate or humiliation?" The injured man raised an eyebrow, "If so, tell me. I can make you cum just by talking dirty to you, I don't even have to touch you." He said proudly.

"Yeah? Prove it." The gringo said defiantly, smiling again. Peña lightly caressed the other's cheek while both looked at each other with penetrating eyes full of desire. They wanted to eat each other.

"Come here, puta." (whore) That small insult along with the kiss that he planted on his lips in a deep and passionate way began the second round. With his good hand he removed the belt from the rings of Steve's pants, leaving it in his dominant hand, which was the injured one, but making an effort to move it. He slowly opened his eyes slightly, looking at the features of his other person's face. His heart was beating hard but the other person seemed to be too calm.

That wasn't going to last long.

The belt ended up on Steve's neck, squeezing it slightly to surprise him. Javier looked at him with a lascivious smile and mocking eyes, holding him on his lap. He looked at the blonde from below with desire, and the aforementioned had his eyes open wider than normal.

His lips parted to say something, but he didn't give her time because in one fell swoop he felt his windpipe close. He could still breathe, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't get horny from it, letting out a muffled moan home from lack of air. He hyperventilated as best he could, Peña just smiled. His other hand ended up on one of Steve's pecs, caressing him.

"What's happening? Did the cat eat your tongue or what?" He let out a small laugh. Steve was mumbling, he didn't know how to speak and the words didn't come out either. He wanted to get some air while he was still being hanged, but damn if he enjoyed it. He was slightly red from embarrassment and shortness of breath. It is worth mentioning that Peña was moving his hips slightly so that the stranger could feel how his hard cock passed over the fabric of Murphy's boxers. He made sounds between moans and sighs, digging his nails into Peña's arms. Javier enjoyed the view.

"Were you saying something, zorra? Oh, sé que te encanta cuando te hablo en español." (I know you love it when I speak Spanish to you) He approached his ear just to whisper dirty things to him, putting his dominant arm behind his back to scratch his. Steve growled and felt his eyes water, shuddering. He felt like he was on the verge of climax because of the long time he had been stimulated by Peña in some way, and without touching him, on top of that.

"I asked myself like two minutes ago what it would be like to use this whip belt... Do you want to try it?" He raised an eyebrow, now biting his lobe. Steve just from the thought felt jets of cum splashing his boxers above him, his cock shuddering and trembling in climax, the white lines staining his stomach and his boxers. His chest rose and fell aggressively, now looking at Peña with red cheeks, lips trembling. Javi loved that view.

He finally released his grip, letting Steve breathe easier. The gringo grabbed his neck to rub him, looking at the Colombian with anger and shame. He was clear that when it came time to return it to him he was going to be a thousand, million times worse. The belt mark was still there, as were some hickeys.

"I told you, I was right. You came and I didn't even touch you..." He laughed again at how little the blonde could last, even though it was the first time where he was passive. Steve stifled a shaky breath, still rubbing his neck.

"Shut up." The gringo said imperatively, with a hoarse tone because of what happened, looking with dominant eyes at the other. Now Peña was the final prey.

"You can't say you didn't like it, well you messed me up." He said ironically, lightly touching the tip of the other's cock, listening to how he sighed because of his sensitivity, watching that same piece of flesh tremble at his touch.

In the least expected moment, Peña ended up under Steve on the bed, Steve was now grabbing Javier by his shoulders, who let out a somewhat high-pitched moan due to the pain in his injured shoulder, trembling. In a way the burning was pleasant, but the pain not so much, and even less so the shaking due to the discomfort in his shoulder. He looked at the gringo with wide eyes, curious, a little scared, but more curious than anything. His stomach was burning, it was burning like never before and he wanted something more than anything. Steve stuck his thumb into Peña's wound, poking lightly at the wound. Peña made a face of pain, enjoying the pain and burning at the same time, releasing a somewhat high-pitched moan.

"Fuck! D...Don't. Don't push too hard in, my shoulder is still like shit, and..."

Before he could continue, he closed his eyes tightly as he was spat on by the stranger. He opened his eyes again, wincing for not being able to remove the saliva from part of his face because before being spat out his reflexes acted and he turned his face away from him a little. His eyes widened in surprise, red from that display of 'contempt'. In a certain part he warmed him up.

"Don't you ever close your mouth? It's annoying. Annoying as fuck." Steve blurted out like blades, but Peña knew that he was angry, deep down he was smiling. "I was going to be gentle, mind you, but I think not anymore."

The older man stifled a sigh as he felt how the blonde had freed his shoulders, but only to lean a little to his left to grab lubricating oil that was in a drawer of the nightstand. Javier turned red up to his ears.

"How did you know that I...?" He said surprised.

"I clean the whole house when you're not there, imagine." What seemed to be a small smile appeared on the blonde's lips, pink and full. Peña wanted to kiss them, he wanted to pull them and make them bleed to see how the blood decorated those small and beautiful lips.

But, two fingers that ended up inside him interrupted his thoughts.

Steve now forcefully penetrated the tight interior of the stranger, who had one of his legs on the gringo's shoulder and the other leg a little further apart and bent. Even something as small as two fingers dilated the inside of the other's, but it was somewhat painful.

The bottom arched his back as he closed his eyes somewhat tightly, sighing and whimpering at the sensation.

He was burning, it was strange, he didn't know if his body was asking for more as he felt how his rectum was throbbing and trying to catch Steve's fingers for penetration. Peña moaned again.

To silence his broken, whining voice, Murphy passionately kissed his friend, closing his eyes as he inserted a third finger, arranging the palm of his hand near the spot to continue thrusting. The Colombian moaned between the kiss. He could feel him trembling beneath him.

His tongues mixed with each other, splashes and moans echoed between the four walls that surrounded the couple. One of Peña's hands wrinkled the sheets under him, writhing because of the pleasure and pain caused by the gringo. Tears came from those sensations, taking a deep breath after breaking the kiss, sniffling, letting out tears and squirming, looking into Steve's eyes. He smiled in a twisted way.

"Don't cry, that turns me on." He said in a hoarse tone into Peña's ear, biting it. He increased the intensity of his fingers, suddenly feeling how his abdomen was stained by the other's seed, who was hyperventilating, moaning and sighing, trying to calm down. He didn't even bother to take his fingers off of him, but to continue overstimulating the older man.

He closed his eyes as he tried to ignore the burning in his abdomen beneath him and how the lines of semen stained the blonde's abdomen, shaking and suffering from slight spasms. After a long minute, his entrance was released, already dilated in a certain part. He wasn't going to compare to the thickness of Murphy's cock.

But, the stranger was happy to have gotten revenge.

He wiped his hands on the dirty sheets, which he cared more about. He stood next to the older man and took him in his arms, kissing his tears as if they were crystal flowers, noticing how Javier's puppy eyes were on his lips. Now, he kissed his eyelids while caressing the back of his neck and then his shoulder, finally kissing his lips.

The one with black hair left his hands on the other's back, hugging him with affection and delicacy, tired of so much noise and movement. His shoulder needed to rest.

"I'm sorry for-"

"It's been great." Peña commented. Steve opened his eyes.

"Really?"

"I want to repeat it whenever you want... But you're going to shit yourself when my shoulder is one hundred percent recovered."

They both laughed. They gave a short kiss.

"Thank you, Jav." The aforementioned blushed, smiling and feeling his heart melt. He hid his face in the other's chest.

"I love it when you call me Jav."

And so, the two fell asleep after a while of kissing and laughing.

#stavier #javier peña x steve murphy #javier peña #steve murphy #narcos #narcos netflix #boyd holbrook #pedro pascal #javier is such a cockwhore

6 notes · View notes

autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Text

Day 7: Sculpted- Javier Pena

Pairing: Javier Pena x doctor OC

Rating: 18 + for language

I am finally caught up on the November Writing Challenge! I’m tagging my buddy @yespolkadotkitty because I know she would appreciate some Javier. :)

November Writing Challenge

Day 6: Carpet - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

“I don’t need a goddamn hospital! All I need is a glass of whiskey, some painkillers, and a smoke now to get me the hell out of here Steve!”

“No can do partner, you got shot. Whether you like it or not you need to be checked out.” Steve guides an irate Javier Pena to the front desk of the hospital, “uhm hola, my amigo here needs a doctor,” Steve attempts to talk to the nurse at the desk.

“You really need to learn Spanish,” Javier snaps at him before telling the nurse he'd been shot and needed medical attention.

That got her attention, she jumped up before going to the back room coming back a few moments later with one of the most beautiful women Javier had ever seen. Long black hair pulled into a delicate French braid, in scrubs that did nothing but make his imagination run wild, and the most expressive blue eyes, he could drown in.

“I heard there was gringo here with someone who got shot, I assume that’s you?” She points at Steve speaking perfect English.

“Yes ma’am my buddy here was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got shot on the side it’s a through and through.”

She shakes her head chuckling to herself, “wrong place wrong time? You really expect me to believe that?”

Javier smiled, he liked her already. “Yeah, I guess I’m just clumsy.”

She looked at Javier before gesturing him to the back rooms, and put him in exam room three. “I am going to need you to remove your shirt so I can see the wound. You can wait in the waiting room,” she points Steve in the direction they came. He only hesitates a moment before going back out to wait.

Javier struggles with getting the shirt up so she walks over and helps him lift it slowly over his head. When he has his shirt all the way off, he notices she stops moving her eyes glued to his chest.

He smirks before asking, “See something you like there Doctor?”

“Sculpted…” she whispers under her breath.

“What was that?” he asks.

“It’s like someone sculpted you,” she says before meeting his eyes blushing bright red, “oh fuck, did I just say that out loud?” she places her head in her hands.

Javier can’t help the laugh that comes out, he honestly can’t remember the last time he laughed and the sound comes out rough with disuse. “I can honestly say that is the first time a woman has ever told me that.”

“I can’t believe I just...that was totally unprofessional excuse me please,” she moves forward to work on his wound. Cleaning the area before applying a bandage, “there, that should do it. It should heal just fine just make sure you clean and reapply the bandages a couple times a day to prevent infection. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, I would like to take you to dinner tomorrow night,” he never had any problem going after what he wanted and now certainly wasn’t going to be any different, “then maybe we can go back to my place and I can show you wear else I am ...sculpted.”

She cleans up the supplies, quietly thinking over the offer before turning back to him, “okay, I think dinner would be nice, and I am really interested in art.”

He looks back at her confused before she steps forward cupping him gently. He inhales sharply before she runs her nose along his neck whispering, “I am especially interested in sculptures.” She kisses him on the neck before gently biting his ear. “Pick me up here at seven,” she tells him before leaving the room to go onto the next patient.

Javier stands up, adjusting himself before tugging his shirt back on and walking out to the waiting room where Steve sits.

“Hey, how did it go? You gonna be ok?” Steve asks.

“It went fine. I told you I was ok but I am glad we came here. I got a date tomorrow night, with the doctor.”

“Of course, you go in with a gunshot wound and out with a date, and pray tell what are you going to be doing with this doctor tomorrow night?” Steve asks, shaking his head.

“Oh...I’m taking her to an art show.”

Steve stops him with a hand on his arm, “An art show? You? What the fuck?”

“Yeah, she seems really interested in sculptures.”

Day 8: Dot, Dot, Dot - Agent Whiskey

#November writing challenge #day 7 #Narcos #javier peña #steve murphy #Pedro Pascal

133 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 3 years

Text

Never Break the Chain Pt. 3

Part 3 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Esme keeps her distance and Javier's obsession gets worse. She decides to let him find her and they're both faced with the hard questions they've been suppressing for decades.

Warnings/Tags: Reunited Lovers. Angst. Yearning. Difficult adult conversations. Regret. Nostalgia.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Steve stood staring and ignored by a red-eyed and greasy Peña still hunched over a desk with boxes of old files piling up around him. The boxes obscured half of him, stacks that started on the desktop, now on the floor. His nose twitched from the dust and his eyes burned from lack of sleep.

“Did you ever leave?” Murphy moves a few boxes to sit on his desk that had been commandeered for Pena’s obsession.

As if snapping out of a trance, Javier looks up and around, seeing morning light again through the high windows in the cool-hued room that lacked any warmth in its sterile choice of furnishings. “Guess not.” he yawns and looks back down at the work he’s done.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Thanks.” he gruffs out and stretches, a noise that half groan and half yawn escapes him.

“Did you at least find anything?”

“Plenty.” he pauses and rubs his face. “Unfortunately.” he pushes a legal pad full of scribbled notes with dates.

“These...all her?”

“I think so.”

“Damn Javi, you sure can pick ‘em.” he grins at the expense of his partner.

“She always said she was gonna be rich.”

“The Lucchia Heist?” Steve snorts in amusement.

“Potentially. She’s…” he lets out a slightly crazed but hushed laugh. “She’s fuckin’ good.” he covers his face before resting his head on his palm, supported by the desk. “I’d bet my badge she’s framed more people than I’ve even had time to find. Had a million aliases. Been everywhere from Corpus Christi to Lima. I’ve traced her down the continent.”

“And she landed right in your backyard.” Steve tosses the roughed-up papers, months of research, back in front of him. “You’re not a man who believes in fate are ya Javi?” he smirks.

“She said she didn’t know I was here.” a mumbled response as he begins putting away his research.

“And you believe her?”

He focuses on removing the evidence of his fascination, putting it away in a drawer that’s near full and dedicated to her. He stops and pauses, a thoughtful expression before answering, “I might be another sucker in the long list she’s got but... yeah, I do.”

-----

With the aged bulbs in the generic hotel room, the woman with him was easy to push out of his mind. He outstretched his arm as she pulled on her panties with a jump.

“Who is Esme?” she asks softly, attempting to make a connection with a man she felt she almost knew with as many times as they’d been together.

He didn’t look her way and motioned the hand with the money in it again.

“You’ve had your nights before but… the past few months you’ve... and now tonight? Should I be worried?”

“No,” he states with a bite. It wasn’t directed at her but himself. He tossed the money onto the bed and moved to light a cigarette. “You shouldn’t be no matter how I act.”

She holds in a sigh, a grimace on her face as she pockets the money and dresses. “Are you su-”

“What do you want to hear?” he turns his head sharply her way, brow low, but not aggressive enough to make her fear him.

She knew men, and she knew his problem was a woman, not the job like it usually was. Javier didn't get emotional over work when they were together. He would be rougher sometimes, softer others... but a disconnect was far from the usual. He was a client she was glad to hear from. He treated her with respect, he looked her in her eyes and handled her as if he cared about how she felt while they fucked. It was rare but entirely welcome. She curses herself silently for caring. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” she answers curtly. “You’re right.” she nods and gathers her things. “I’ll go.”

“It’s not you-” he begins with his head down before she passes him at the foot of the bed.

“I know. It’s not my business. It’s... I know women. It's hard to believe you would have trouble with one.” she lets out a smile to break the tension and his face doesn’t tell her if she succeeded or not. “You know where to find me.” she says kindly, something he felt he didn’t entirely deserve at the moment. He could hear her heels patting down the hallway outside when she left, fading until she was down the elevator and gone.

He gives his forehead a hard rub, nails scratching into his scalp before taking a long drag. “Fuck.” he exhales loudly to an empty room. He couldn’t get her out of his head.

-------------------------

The heat was something he had grown up with, he never found that part of Colombian weather to be difficult. But the humidity, that was a different experience. He quickly lost any self-consciousness about the sweat showing through his shirts, everyone else's looked the same. Propped against a stucco wall that was radiating the sun's warmth into his back, he partook in his condensation-covered beer bottle and his favorite public activity, people watching. It was an art form for him, once an amusing pastime that he made a living off now. There was no short of things to look for, the Festival of Flowers was in full swing and everyone was crowded into the streets. It was loud, a bit chaotic, and exactly the sort of crowd he felt comfortable observing.

The Discoteca a few streets down was powerful, sending music out over the radios in stalls and stores dotted along the streets surrounding it. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant but that didn’t stop Javier from having an annoyed expression. Songs from his past would play casually, feeling anything but in his head. He knocked back the rest of his drink and promptly got another every time a memory was triggered.

It had been almost a year now since he’d seen Esme. From what he’d learned, he wasn’t surprised. She could keep playing the phoenix forever. She could’ve been across the world by now and he was powerless to pursue her. Of all the possibilities, he still held onto the statistical probability that she was still around. She had good connections here, it made sense for her to stay. This unignorable fact led his obsession to be indulged by his profession, his paranoia fueled by his keen observational skills. A handful of times he would’ve bet he'd seen her. Sometimes he could follow, others he couldn't. Either way, he ended up at a brothel and with a woman who may look like her but wasn’t. The boisterous festival crowds would be a perfect place for her to be anonymous, the plumes of flowers were cover to disappear in plain sight. He wouldn’t admit to himself, but he was feeling hopeful. Or was it the alcohol?

Esme, with her head heavy from the large crown of flowers she wore, matching her brightly colored traditional dress skipped and hopped her way across the rooftops of the lively streets. She held the flowers to her head and jumped from pitch to pitch with her woven shoes. She knew this part of the city in light or dark. Not just for her safety but for means to get the drop on others. Her work with the cartel made sure she was knowledgeable in such things. But it also came in handy for a specific reason she’d been indulging in for almost a year now.

He was moping around his usual watering hole for this part of town. She sat with her head on her hands, between two flower pots, watching Javier from the safety of the rooftop across the street. She’d seen him many times, mostly taking home girls, or spoiling them with nice hotels for the night. Since she now knew the Pena she’d heard of was HER Pena, she asked the local sex workers about him and she wasn’t let down with the gossip they shared. She found out he’d been looking for her, not that any of them knew she was this infamous woman the playboy was hung up on. After a polite offer of employment, she dipped out and felt an odd satisfaction in what he’d become. It wasn’t ideal by any means but he was a good man. That was more than she would’ve guessed he’d become with the company he kept.

Each song from their past hit their ears at the same time, both suppressing a sigh as it floated down the streets, imagining a simpler time with one another. She’d missed him. Just as he had, she’d tried to drink and fuck the pain away for a bit but it didn’t work as well for her. She was left feeling nostalgic and downright amorous about him, seeing him lean, strong, and handsome against that wall. Sweat beading down his neck like it did on the bottle he held. She wanted to pop those buttons right off his shirt and- she knew it wasn’t smart to indulge in such fantasies. But he was the only man left that she even cared to think about when he wasn’t directly in her line of sight. She wanted to see him again. Was she willing to throw away months of laying low for a rendezvous? The summer sun made her feel young, the songs pumping blood to places, like her heart, it didn’t normally flow anymore. It made her feel young again. And at this point, it was a welcome and sought-after feeling.

——

A group of dancing girls covered in flowers with wide sweeping skirts made their way down the street. They wore smiles and the brightest of colors, dancing with each other and passersby as carts of flowers were pushed around them. Esme had been in South America long enough to know how to blend in. It was easy considering she didn’t look like a gringo. Her Latin heritage assured a degree of anonymity and mixing in, adding in the factor of whirling skirts and a blur of color from flowers she melded right in. Her chameleon skills were enviable but Javier’s observation skills were better.

Of course, he’d look at the group of beautiful women flouncing towards him. He seldom passed a woman he didn’t take a second glance at. As he glanced over their faces, to see if any had been friendly to him previously, the set of emerald green eyes grabbed him as they sat deep-set in a heart-shaped face he used to know intimately. Like a dog with a scent caught in his nose, he perks up, bottle discarded as he takes a step towards the street. She separates herself, a clear view of each other for a moment before a smile as bright as the sun beating down on them meets his gobsmacked expression. For only a moment there’s an unbroken line of sight and he instinctively pursues. With a bite of her lip that was a mix of flirtation excitement and a challenge, she spins on her heel and runs to an alleyway. He was fast on his feet behind.

This was where she felt at home, fast and light on her feet through small spaces and over walls. She desired to test Javi, combined with her caring about anyone seeing them, luring him to a safe space. She could hear his grunts and calls of her name like it was a swear as she’d climb and hop drain pipes and fences. All he could hear was the occasional heavy breath and giggle coming from her. They moved away from the busy streets, up higher over every sketchy rooftop, and eventually came to climb onto a secluded and blocked-off rooftop together.

“You've still got it Javi.” she laughs breathlessly, hands on her knees from the far side of the roof he’s slid onto.” her face beams his way, a sheen of sweat catching in the sun as she fluffs back her hair.

“I never lost it,” he grunts, dusting off his jeans. “Can’t afford to.” he pauses and regains his cocky posture.

“You look good.” she offers as a compliment, both closing the space between them to face off.

He takes his time, looking her up and down, unsure of her motives, yet she'd always had that wild streak. He used to love that about her. Now it made it hard to read. “So do you.” he presents in response to her out-of-place compliment.

“It's nice to finally see you up close.” her face is relaxed, too relaxed in his opinion. She touches his chest, hands light on his collar and moving up to tuck back the messed pieces of dark hair from his sideburns.

“That mean you’ve seen me from afar?” he stands stoically still, letting her touch him, not ready to reciprocate.

“Possibly,” she smirks, eyes trailing over his now-adult facial features. His brow had hardened, his jaw rounder but still sharp. Her favorite part, his nose was now proportionate and he was even more attractive up close. She lets a small sigh slip, dedicating his handsome face to memory. “Couldn’t let you pick up on my location could I?”

“Is that why you knocked me out?”

She lets out a chuckle and pats his chest. “That was… an unfortunate mistake on your behalf and a fortunate one for me. I have laced lipstick I wear during jobs. Easy to kiss a man and get away. Less messy than shooting. And far quieter.”

“Poison lipstick…” he nods thoughtfully.

“I’ve spent years perfecting it, dosing myself with tiny amounts to have immunity. Took a note from the Renaissance covert killers.” she smiles proudly. “I’m very proud of it.”

“You should be,” he admits begrudgingly. “I’ve looked up your work. It’s… impressive.”

“That means a lot coming from you. Your career has been notable as well.”

“Looks like we both got what we wanted, huh?” The response was bleeding with sarcasm.

She bites her lip, her shoulders slumping just enough for him to notice. “It is what we said we wanted.” her voice was softer now, less playful and confident as he sees the lump in her throat bob up and down. He lets her sit with her words for a moment, seeing a passing sadness behind her eyes. They seemed even brighter green than he remembered. But memories aren’t always honest.

“Where have you been?” a demand, not much of a sweet inquiry.

“If you’ve looked at my records then you know already. “

“This past year. Where have you been?"

“In Colombia.” She gives a subtle shrug.

“So I don’t get an answer?”

“You want the longitude and latitude? I can’t give you exact locations so you can know where to find people.” She frowns.

“You think I give a shit about that?” His brow furrowed and his head tilts. She’s caught off guard by his defensiveness. “The shit I deal with… a couple of stones means nothing. I want to know about you. That’s why I asked where you had been. Not who you’d been with.”

She felt scolded. It wasn’t something she was used to. Still, he was the only man who could pull it off. “I have a place in the mountains I stay at on occasion. I float around and do jobs. There’s no specific place.”

“You have a place here and you couldn’t come find me?” He sounded almost hurt.

“I can’t have anyone know we know each other. They’d kill me. Kill you.” She knew he was accusing her of not caring. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. “I didn’t want you getting hurt.” She finally averts her eyes, a vaguely familiar ache in her chest growing.

He lets out a harsh laugh. “Should’ve thought about that twenty years ago when I thought you were dead.” He spits out. He sees the hurt in her eyes and he takes a moment to move her hands from him, and take a ragged breath. “You’ve been SO close this whole time. And I didn’t know…” he clenches his jaw and looks away to the horizon. Readjusting his posture he swings his head back her way and flares over her, an accusing finger in her face. “I can’t take this... you running around and not knowing SHIT about it.”

With sad eyes but a firm expression she swallows. “You used to get possessive like this. I remember… I’d-” Her voice is breathy and her hand moves to remove his from her face, a gentle hold that he answers harshly.

Grabbing her wrist, her eyes widen as he stares her down. “Don’t fucking tease me, Esme.”

Her brow furrowed quickly as she tries to tug away.

“I could take you in right now you know. For so many reasons.”

“You wouldn’t though.”

“Would I not?”

She stares with wide eyes that would’ve made him drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness when he was young. His worst fear was to hurt her back then. Now it was her getting hurt from her own actions.

“You have no idea the hell you put me through, do you? All this time not knowing for sure. And you’ve raised from the dead and think you can fuck with a man's head like this?” She could feel the bite of his words as he spoke quietly to her, letting her wrist go after he made his point. “Do you even give a shit or is this another game you’re running? Are you conning me too? Is there some guy who’s fallen for this shit somewhere with a gun on me right now?”

“How could you say that? I’d never.” She holds back a stutter in her throat. She felt something she hadn’t in a very long time, the sting of tears in her eyes. He regretted his outburst as soon as he saw it. He just had so many years of anger and hurt built up it was hard not to explode.

“Did you miss me at all?” His voice a whisper now, eyes wider and opening up like he was trying to.

It broke her to see him like this now. This stoic figure was just a shell covering that young man she left. She didn’t know it would hold onto him this long, that he did love her that much. “If you saw the wear on my rosary you'd have your answer. I prayed you to be safe. For you to get what you wanted.” She clears her throat and tries not to break.

“All I ever wanted was you.” A clear and plain statement. It was a fact.

“I had to make my own life.” She said it as an excuse and she hated the way it sounded coming from her. It made her feel weak. “You wanted yours.”

“We were kids. We didn’t know what the fuck we wanted.” He huffs out a strangled laugh.

She takes a deep breath and her time in answering. “We were. We didn’t.”

It was an admission of guilt on both their behalfs. They got what they said they wanted but was it really what made them happy? They’d been chasing a fix to fill a void of their own making. And now on the other side, the ugly truth of their dreams stares them and their unhappiness down every day.

“I’m sorry.” She adds and lowers her head. “I felt trapped and I knew you’d… do exactly what you are right now if you thought I was out there.”

“You were right.” He sighs and reaches to lift her chin revealing tears falling down her cheeks. He cups her face and wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I shouldn’t have reached out to you again.” She shakes her head.

“No...no, you should have.” He sighs heavily and pulls her into his chest, something she didn’t expect. “I’m sorry too.” He remarks into her hair, closing his eyes and feeling her in his arms. “I’m just…” he trails off. What could he say? I’m lost, I’m tired, unhappy, empty, angry? There wasn’t enough time to explain how he felt about this... about her. “I’m sorry too. I’m glad you let me find you. Okay?” He leans her head back to look up at him.

“I didn’t know you were here. In Colombia. I came here for work.”

“So did I.” He looks away purses his lips. “You know you can’t work for those men.” He wipes away her tears again, his hand smoothing her black waves away from her face. “They’ll kill you, Esme. The second you do something wrong they won’t even blink.”

“Like talk to you?” She arches a brow and gives him a soft smile. “I know, Javi. I know the risks.”

“And you still did it?”

“I missed you.” she admits with a soft exhale.

He pulls her in again, tighter this time. A kiss to her hair as he strokes his hands over her. “You know you need to get going. It’s almost night they’ll be crawling all over soon.”

She nods but doesn’t pull away. “They can’t see us here. There are no lookouts. It’s why I brought us here.”

“You know this place that well?”

“I have to. I don’t have a choice.” It felt hopeless as it left her trembling lips and it reflected more regret as she let it escape. It sounded as tired as she felt. It was as if being in his arms made her aware of how exhausted she was. How worn and hollow she was.

He knew the sound of exhaustion well. He heard it when he would deflect questions from the women he would pay to distract him from the one in his arms. “I know, sweetheart. Believe me, I know.” When she didn’t pull away, he didn’t make her. It gave him the answers he needed. At least what he needed to make it through another day without her for a short while.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#javier pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fan fic

33 notes · View notes

the-omni-princess · 4 years

Text

Beauty and the Beast (Soulmate AU)

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: You wake up the day after drunkenly meeting your soulmate.

Prompt: “When did you learn how to figure skate?” // “I dunno.”

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Bucky x Latina!(and Mutant!)reader

Warnings: fluff! Hangovers, seriously, so much fluff!!!

A/N:

@bitchassbucky for #abitchassholiday , and the casual sequel to Sleeping Beauty! [Read here!]

I’ve been dying to write a Latina!Reader since I’m Latina! Here’s my first one. It's still pretty lowkey tbh but hopefully I can write one where it’s a bit more explicit the reader’s Latina! :D

[Masterlist] [First part]

Previously….

He did however, let you go, just as you stopped screaming. “Do… do you know who you are?” you tried in a soft voice, still on edge. Where the fuck was Mr. Star Spangled Ass?

“Bucky… My name was Bucky,” he whispered softly, now looking down at his chest where his mark had deepened in color to darker freckles, easily shown on his light skin.

Your eyes widened, looking down at your hand, your own freckles became more pronounced as well. “Holy shit,” you mumbled, just as Steve and Tony burst through the door, making you both jump.

“Bucky?” It took him less time to recover, now noticing both of you skimming your marks with your hands in shock. “Wait… are you two…?” His eyes glanced back and forth between the two marks.

You looked up towards the Super Soldier, unsure how to really explain the dare that tossed you at your soulmate. “Um…. Hi… Soulmate?”

James Buchanan Barnes, the infamous sidekick of Captain America, a fact you used to argue about in US History class when you were younger since who would call that hot guy the sidekick?!, just looked at you with a little tilt to his head. “Soulmate?” he murmured softly, looking down at his mark on his chest. His eyes widened as he took in the multitude of darker freckles. He looked back at you, following your own gaze to your hand, where the freckles had darkened on the underside of your palm. “Soulmate…”

“Well… that’s unexpected to say the least,” Steve muttered, both he and Sharon looking on with a bit of amusement.

Bucky looked up, noticing the blond couple for the first time. “Stevie?” His voice cracked, and even in your very buzzed state, you could tell Steve was also a little emotional.

“Hey Buck,” he replied, smiling sadly before looking again towards you.

You were now gripping the table for support, the room starting to spin. “Ay Dios, is the room spinning or is it just me?” Your eyes fluttered a bit, vertigo hitting you full force, just as Bucky rushed forward, catching you before you could hit the ground. You groaned softly, looking up at his face, a goofy smile lighting up your features. “Oh, yeah. You’re my soulmate. You know, I always thought you were cuter than Cap. Think I have a thing from brunet boys with pretty blue eyes, and your eyes are way more blue than I could have imagined with those black and white photos,” you continued to ramble, babbling on as the trio watched in amusement.

“First meeting with her literal other half, and she’s wasted,” Sharon sighed softly, now looking at you with pity.

“And the reindeer- hey! I’m not wasted!” You cried out before going back to your rambles.

Bucky just looked up at her, smiling faintly, as he held you up, “I can handle a drunk dame, better than my ma, she was a cursing drunk.”

Steve chuckled, helping Bucky lead you, very slowly towards the common room where you promptly passed out snuggled on a blanket on the sofa, completely oblivious to the fact that the former Winter Soldier was being introduced to the Avengers, while all he did was watch over you.

Searing pain lit up behind your eyes, and your temple was definitely throbbing. Groaning, you reached around your bed for your phone, freezing when you realized you were most definitely not in a bed. You looked down and groaned, you were also still in the party dress from last night, wrapped in a blanket that was also most definitely not yours. You inspected it, noticing the little cobwebs and widow symbols on the fluffy blanket. So, you were wrapped in Natasha’s blanket, the one you got her for her birthday last year as a joke. Looking around, you also realized you were in the main living common area in the tower.

“FRIDAY? How’d I get here?” you called out, groaning softly as you clutched your temples. You were most definitely hungover.

“I can answer that,” a voice called, one you recognized as Steve.

“Lower your voice, you menace, I’m nursing a shitty hangover.” You pulled the blanket over your face, covering yourself from the lights.

“We’re well aware of that, dollface,” a new voice joined in.

You stiffened, slowly dropping the blanket and looking at the man in front of you in surprise. “Hey Steve? I haven’t gotten drunk in a while, are hallucinations normal for being hungover?”

“Nope, I’m real.” Bucky stood, before kneeling beside you. “How much of last night do you remember?”

You gripped the blanket tighter, feeling a bit more exposed than you would like. “Last night? Why would I need-“ your voice died as you looked down at your hands, realizing the freckles that covered the palm of your left hand were darker. “Holy shit, please don’t tell me I met my soul mate and I was too wasted to remember,” you groaned, pouting up at Sharon who walked in. “You get a perfect, they-were-neighbors story, and I get the I-was-drunk story.”

“Not everyone can meet their soulmate because they literally bumped into them, besides,” Steve nodded towards Bucky, who was still kneeling beside the couch. “You literally fell for him.”

You looked back towards the brunet with horror written on your face. “Please tell me it wasn’t as cliché as Mr. Dramatically Yeets Himself Off of Planes Without Parachutes is making it out to be.”

“What does ‘yeet’ mean?” Bucky gave you a small confused look, one you have to admit was pretty cute. Okay fine, maybe he was your type. Dark-haired, pretty eyes, cute dimples when he was smiling. Okay so he was gringo, you could work with that.

“Throw, well basically,” you supplied, much to Steve’s horror.

“You do WHAT?!” Bucky cried out, making Steve cringe, and you whimper softly, closing your eyes in pain.

“Welp, we’ll let you two get well acquainted, sober at least,” Steve grabbed Sharon’s hand and hightailed out of the room.

Bucky didn’t give them a second look, now focused on you. “Damn, I’m sorry, after all your rambles last night I still forgot you would be hungover. Here,” he gently gave you some aspirin and water, which you promptly downed. “How about we do this right? I’m Bucky.”

“I’m well aware of who you are. Used to have fights with my friend in high school because she thought Steve was the cutest Howling Commando, when it was clearly you. Why am I still rambling?”

“It’s quite alright, I find it cute,” he gave you a bright smile, and your heart fluttered for a second.

You chuckled softly, smiling at him before sitting up, making room for him on the sofa as you told him your full name. “But that’s just the government name, everyone ‘round here calls me y/n/n, or FireCracker but that’s usually just Tony.” You gave him a smile.

“Why FireCracker?”

“Well, two reasons. One, I tend to keep talking and say my mind. And two,” you held up your hand, letting flames cover your fingers before they died out again. “I have powers…I hope that’s alright by you,” you whispered softly. Truth was, both the fact that you were Latina and were a Mutant were reasons you were teased and mocked growing up in all-white schools in the South. It was another reason who were so quick to join the Avengers when you were offered the chance. More diverse, and more accepting people. In theory at least.

“God, that looks absolutely amazing! Can you do it again?” Bucky gushed, eyes lighting up as he watched your powers. You smiled shyly, letting a small flame light up your palm. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly.

“Only if I want it to,” you looked up at him, caught a little off guard that he would be so interested in your powers instead of scared, it usually took people more time to get used to it.

“Woah,” he murmured, eyes wide as he took in the flames.

You smiled bashfully, secretly excited that he liked your powers. The flames died out, soon revealing the freckles again. Bucky hesitantly took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing over the freckles that marked the first place you touched, two souls finally coming back together again.

“How about I take you on a date, doll? A real one, since our first meeting didn’t go as expected.”

You blushed, nodding with a smile. “I know just the thing! We can go to the Rockefeller Ice Skating Rink, take in the whole Christmas season.”

His eyes lit up, “That ice rink is still there?!” he cried out, excitement thinly vied in his voice. “Gosh, I remember Stevie falling face-first when we were younger, had to patch up that nasty bruise on his cheek and a broken nose. Ma was pissed we went without my sisters.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you took in his joy. “I’ll take you, Bucky.”

“Well… its certainly different from when I was last here,” Bucky’s grip on your mittened hand tightened. Buried underneath scarves and jackets, Bucky helped you pull your beanie down. He naturally ran warm because of the serum, so he didn’t need as many heavy coats in the cold winter weather. You however, were more used to warmer climates, and this cold weather was not agreeing with you.

“Good different?” You took the skates from the attendant, handing Bucky his before attempting to tie up your own.

“Well the tree’s certainly bigger,” he chuckled, noticing your struggle to lace your skates up and helping you before tugging you onto your feet. Shimmying to the rink itself, gripping onto each other as the earth became ice underneath your feet. You yelped, clinging to him as he guided you on the ice. “And I have my soulmate in my arms, being an adorable mess,” he teased, chuckling as you shot him a glare.

“That’s no fair Buck! When did you learn how to figure skate?” You looked up at him incredulously, still struggling despite the fact that he was holding most of your weight up.

“I dunno.” He teased right back, a smug grin on his lips.

“Ya know, if I knew you would have been this self-satisfied, I would have just done a Christmas movie marathon with you instead, get you well acquainted with movies of this century,” you shot back, giving him a look that sent him into a fit of giggles – actual giggles.

“Well doll, the night’s young, and you have plenty to teach me.” He pulled you closer, making you realize you were dead center in the rink, a suspicious flash in the distance making you notice Nat taking picture of you two. He gently tilted your head up, locking eyes with you. “I just found you, dollface, I’m never letting you go,” he smirked, “my clumsy little soulmate.”

“Call me little or clumsy again and I’ll roast your ass, Barnes, literally,” you growled playfully, giving him a mischievous look, which told him you didn’t really mean it.

He smiled, his hand gently holding onto your face, “I look forward to it, doll,” he murmured, the distance between the two of you closing.

Closing the distance, you kissed him tenderly, arms wrapped around his neck, ignoring the flashes most definitely coming from Natasha. Here, cuddled up in your soulmate’s embrace, the hand that first touched right over his heart was now pressed against his cheek as you kissed. Surrounded by Christmas lights, sweet Holiday music, and children’s laughter as they skated around you two, it felt like your very own piece of a Hallmark movie. And who were you to disagree with Fate?

------

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @avengerstones / @momc95 / @loving-life-my-way / @agentpeggybarnes / @marvelmaree / @thefridgeismybestie / miraclesoflove / hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades / deathofmissjackson

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @sunkissedbarnes / @annavega333 / @im-not-an-armrest-im-short

Some people who requested a sequel (lol):

@xetoilerouge / @amlocked / @bitsandbobsandstuff

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

#sequel #because people asked lol #My writing #soulmate!au #abitchassholiday #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky/yn

589 notes · View notes

peachebunnys · 4 years

Text

Pain, with love VI

pairing: Horacio Carrillo x reader

summary: Arranged Marriages are tough, but add that with having a drug lord on the loose? Horacio Carrillo can only imagine what’s coming for him.

warning: crying, insecurity mentions, angst (? idk if this counts)

a/n: I have simply nothing to say, just take this away from me.

3.6k words

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Chapter 6;

The month goes by quickly, with days filled with joy and laughter. You didn’t think time would pass this fast, but unfortunately Horacio was due to return back to work the next day. You tried to hide the disappointment from him, knowing that once he was back in the motion of working, the days where he’d return way past midnight would soon return.

He was currently sitting across you, taking a bite out of the pancakes you decided to make on that fine morning. His fingers were intertwined with yours, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over yours whilst eating his food. The physical contact, you realized, was something the two of you started to do more of, unknowingly holding the other for the comfort it brought with it. Just holding him, feeling him next to you brought a peace of mind, knowing that you weren’t alone anymore.

He must’ve thought nothing more of it though, since he never reacted much whenever the two of you held hands - if you could even call it that. You were touch starved, and ever since that night you had the nightmares of your dad, you’ve been sleeping closer to Horacio, seeing that it didn’t bother him when you did so.

His touches were always so comforting, something that eased you from your stress and fears that came every night. He always held you like you’d break in his hands if he was too rough, and you could sense the conflict in him whenever he pulled you closer to him.

There was something unspoken between the two of you, and you didn’t know if you wanted to address it. What if you did and he denies having feelings for you? What if he told you that he was doing it to ease your pain of being alone, simply abiding to what your father had wished him to do? What if he didn’t love you like you did?

Your fork scraped the empty plate, the screeching sound becoming slightly unpleasant to the ears.

Was this too fast for you? Was this too fast for him?

Your mind was muddled with thoughts, unsure where it started or where it ended. You were starting to become nervous, and in turn pulling your hand away from Horacio.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

His deep voice breaks your thoughts, pulling you out of your head space to look at him with worry written all over his face. He always did this though, always looking out for you for any signs of distress.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine,” you forced a smile, dropping the fork on your plate. “I’ll go wash these up.”

“Y/N wa-”

The knocking on the door had interrupted him, the loud sound tearing his eyes away from you. The door practically trembled with each knock, shaking the large wooden door to its core.

“Carrillo! It’s us, Peña, Murphy and his wife!”

Horacio lets out a small huff, standing up from his stool to walk towards the door, “great, now the gringos are here.”

As he opens the door, the two taller men smile widely at him, holding up two bottles of champagne in front of his face. “Time to celebrate your last day of break! It’s going to be the last one for a long time.” Connie trails behind her husband, smiling apologetically at him, “I’m sorry, they really wanted to visit you. If it makes you feel better, I’ll bring them home if things start to get too rowdy.”

Horacio’s looks over at you standing by the sink awkwardly, staring at the guests by the door. Javier breaks out into a huge smile and walks through the house, whispering as he glances over at Horacio, “don’t worry, none of us will try to steal your girl.”

That statement alone made Horacio annoyed, but he couldn’t do anything about it since the two men were already in his living room. They stood in front of the couch, admiring the baby blue shade of the walls, which were now decorated with portraits, pictures of the couple, and even a few artworks.

Javier whistled, pacing around the living room to inspect every item that was either on the wall or shelves, “looks like the both of you have been busy, the walls weren’t this colour when I came here the last time.”

“Yea we uh- decorated it a bit, Y/N thought the colour was starting to get dull.” Horacio rubbed his neck, looking around the vastly empty room. Minimalism, as you called it, was something you found very pretty and wanted to try to incorporate it into your living space. Horacio, on the other hand, couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of wanting as little things as possible, for a home should be something personalized to the people living in it. But even despite his deferring views, he didn’t voice them out to you, since he didn’t have many items to display around the room anyway.

“I bet it’s all her idea, there’s no way you can come up with something as pretty as this,” Javier clapped Horacio on the back, grinning as he made eye contact with you. Steve had already made himself at home, slumping back into the comfortable couch next to the round coffee table. Connie, on the other hand, was making her way towards you, smiling brightly as she held out a container full of brownies.

“I made this last night but found it a bit too much for both Steve and I to consume, you should have it.” She places the container on the kitchen counter, opening up the lid to let you observe its contents. The brownies were a beautiful shade of dark brown, with small pieces of walnuts jutting out from its cube shape. It smelt too sweet, which had you salivating at just the mere sight of it. You thanked Connie for the delicacy as you offered each of the guest drinks, placing down water that filled the pretty porcelain cups you still kept around.

As the men started catching up on work-related matters, Connie sat across you at the kitchen island, drinking the beverage you had just offered her. The two of you had started talking about mindless things, from recipes to discussing your married life to even explaining to her how both you and Horacio had found yourselves in this arranged marriage situation. All the while Connie was being supportive, gently rubbing your shoulder comfortingly as you stopped yourself from tearing up when you spoke of your father.

She too shared her worries about Steve, and how it kept her up all night whenever he was out on the field. In times like these, she paused, the only thing that’ll bring him home is your love and support - especially when things get tough.

You nodded at her knowingly, but hearing those words didn’t make you feel less worried about Horacio. You were zoning out, watching him from across the room as he continued discussing about work, every word Connie mentioned to you flying right over your head.

“You really do love him, huh?” It had caught you off-guard, especially since she was just in the midst of telling you about her job scope.

Your face reddened, and you felt like a small child being caught by their parents for eating something they shouldn’t have. You stuttered out excuses, mixed with soft and unconvincing ‘no’s. Your eyes were darting around the kitchen, looking at anywhere but at her.

Were you that transparent? And if so, you were starting to worry if Horacio had caught on to your feelings.

You weren’t looking to put him in a position where things may get awkward for the both of you, knowing that some people weren’t ones to fall in love quickly.

Connie looked at you with a knowing smile, reaching out to hold your hand, “if it means anything, he’s been looking at you quite a bit too, especially since we walked through the door.”

Your eyes snap towards Horacio, catching him looking right back at you. It was clear he wasn’t listening to what the other two men were saying, focusing his eyes on you. Your heart was beating faster and you notice him cracking a smile towards you, raising his eyebrows as a gesture to ask if there was anything wrong.

You simply shook your head, smiling back at him before continuing your conversation with Connie. She was smiling so happily, recounting how Steve was trying his best to woo her when he first met her at the bar, all those years ago and the two of you couldn’t stop giggling at how hilarious his attempts were.

Throughout the conversation, you caught Horacio’s eyes on you again and each time you would cock your eyebrow questioningly. After the third time of doing so, he walked out of his seat, not caring about the conversation he was having with the other two men. He walked over to you, placing his hand gently on yours.

“How are the both of you doing?”

You look up to him, his head blocking the kitchen light from shining into your eyes. You could hear Connie get out of her seat, smirking as she walked over to the living room to join Javier and Steve.

“Great, what’s up?”

“Oh nothing, you were just looking at me a lot, I thought you must've needed me.”

“Me, looking at you a lot?” You scoff, “it was more like you were looking at me first.”

Horacio chuckled at your words, reaching out to the brownies that sat next to you. He pulled the container over, inspecting the dessert Connie had brought over.

“I swear, these gringos put anything but seasoning in their food.”

Your hand cup your mouth immediately, hiding the fact that you were laughing so hard that your body started trembling.

“Horacio-” you wheezed, “you can’t say that about your friends!”

He smiled widely at you, popping a brownie into his mouth, humming in appreciation at the taste of it, “it’s really good though.”

He picks up another one before walking back to his seat, “can’t stay here too long or they’ll accuse me of trying to escape their boring conversations.” He flashes a smile at you before turning back to the men, face immediately falling to show little to no emotion.

A few hours later, dinner was served and everyone was chatting at various corners of the room. You were busy chatting with Connie when Javier had come up to you, stretching out his arm to shake your hand.

“I’m Javier Peña, I work with your husband quite closely.”

“So I’ve heard,” you shake his hand that was huge enough to cover your tiny palm entirely, completely oblivious to the way Horacio was staring at the two of you.

“Your husband,” Javier pauses, shoving his thumb in direction to Horacio, who was barely listening to Steve talk about his cat, “is a good man, but a real pain in the ass to work with.”

“Oh?” You muse, eyes crinkling as you smiled at Javier, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that side of him.”

“I can tell! You know,” Javier now makes himself comfortable, sitting next to you on the couch and Connie moves away to sit next to her husband, “I’ve never seen that man crack a smile before. Never! It’s always like there’s a stick up his ass or something, always preventing him from showing even the slightest bit of emotion.”

You laugh heartily at that remark, unable to imagine Horacio as serious as Javier described him to be. You’re reminded of that day, a few weeks back when his wounds were still fresh and how he was unable to wear his shirt properly, huffing like an inconsolable puppy.

You narrate this story to Javier, who in turn grips his sides as he laughs out loud, titling his head back slightly. The two of you started sharing stories about Horacio, with Javier sharing with you in great detail how it's like to work with him. He tells you about how Horacio hated paper work with his entire being, and how it’d drive him up the wall if anyone tried to talk to him then.

Your face was turning red with how Javier described your husband to be, feeling your eyes fill with tears as you continued listening to his comedic rants.

Horacio, on the other hand, sat across Connie and Steve, who were in the midst of telling him all about a new child they’ve recently adopted - with Steve even going as far as digging through his wallet to show pictures of the infant. Horacio simply nodded at the couple, every few seconds glancing back to see you holding onto Javier’s shoulder as you practically cried while laughing.

A foreign emotion bubbled in him, with his chest feeling way too tight all of a sudden. He could tell you were having so much fun, which made him smile albeit sadly to himself. His thumb rubs over the wedding band, twisting it in place on his ring finger. He glanced down at the beautiful silver jewelry, the sides reflecting his face like a mirror. He looks back up again and swallows deeply, letting out a long breath as he turns back to the conversation with Connie and Steve.

The day went by quickly, way too fast for your liking. You had started to take a liking towards Horacio’s colleagues, and especially Connie who was nothing but sweet to you the whole time. You ushered the guest out the door, thanking them for coming and bringing food with them - saving you the hassle of cooking lunch and dinner.

You glance up at the kitchen clock to see it was half past nine, surprised that the guests had stayed for that long. You moved over to collect the trash bin that was piling up with disposable cups and plates that were used earlier to serve dinner. You bundled up the black trash bag and tossed the bag out to the main bin, walking back into the house to see Horacio pacing along the corridors of the rooms, looking like he was burdened with something.

You smile as you walk towards him, brushing your hands on your floral dress before reaching out to hold his firm bicep. His head had immediately snapped towards you, and while his face hadn’t shown any emotions, his eyes were filled with sadness, watching you intently as you moved closer to him.

“Horacio...” you looked up at him with worry written all over your face, he looked just as hopeless as he did that night when he was struggling to patch himself up. “What’s wrong?”

He felt his heart ache at how sweetly you asked about his well being, always looking out for him whenever you felt something off.

Does he tell her?

He needed to, right?

She deserved to know the truth.

The tension in the air was growing, getting thicker by the moment. The way Horacio looked at you now, with conflict in his eyes only made you more worried. The minutes went by with Horacio not saying a word, jaw clenched as he took a step back from you.

“You deserve better Y/N,” he says simply, “you deserve someone better than me.”

Your vision starts to get blurry as you focus on Horacio, seeing him look just as pained as you.

What on earth was he on about?

“What are you talking about, Horacio?” You noticed how he was distancing himself from you, and it felt like you were being stabbed right in the chest.

He gently bites his bottom lip, stopping it from trembling as he feels the tears threatening to run down his face, “You truly deserve someone that will be able to take care of you, someone who would be able to give you the world and make you happy.”

You reach out to hold his hand, only for him to pull it away from you. Your shocked expression didn’t go unnoticed and he could now feel his heart burn with sadness, breaking as you looked so dejected.

“Where’s all this coming from? I-It’s not like you to say this, is everything alright?”

He takes in a deep breath.

And another one.

He steadies his breath before looking at you again, the room echoing with the sounds of nearby crickets from behind the windows. The cool air was blowing through, curtains dancing with the wind, like a synchronized move. The night was silent, and in this moment, it felt almost suffocating to you.

He swallows deeply, finally allowing you to hold his hand like how you always did. Your hair was in a mess again - like how it usually was, and again he struggled, to not give in to the temptation to comb the stray strands behind your ear.

“I saw how you were with Peña just now an-”

“Is this what it’s about?”

“- and how you laughed like there wasn’t a care in the world. I know I can’t give you th-”

“Horacio.”

“You deserve better, and I’m just a shell of a ma-”

“Horacio,” your voice breaking, “stop.”

“You deserve to be with someone who could give you the world and mo-”

“Horacio!” You repeated, trying your best to stop his endless ramblings, only for him to continue on louder, oblivious to the fact he was talking over you.

“You’re just too good for me, I’d break you, I’m not a good man and I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” Horacio’s voice was starting to sound more broken, holding back tears while balling up his fists - knuckles turning white at the exertion.

You could feel your thoughts turn into mush, unable to comprehend anything as he whispered the last part to you, “I don’t deserve you, and when you were talking to Peña it made me realis-”

“We were talking about you!” You practically yelled out that statement, trying your best to stop yourself from crying halfway, “we were talking about you, Horacio!”

His eyes widened, allowing the tears to flow freely down his cheeks. His face devoid of any emotion as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Javier was telling me about how you were at work -” you sniffled, rubbing your nose with tissue from the nearby tissue box, “and he was telling me about your little habits you’d do before you went out on missions, or how you thought about me before that raid on Gatcha’s safehouse.”

Horacio looked at you silently, lips pursed tightly as he slumped his shoulders. You could barely wrap your head around whatever he was saying.

That you were too good for him?

Within the few weeks of knowing him more intimately, you’ve discovered that Horacio was a loving, if not most loving, person you’ve ever met. He was always there for you when you struggled, and in turn you were always there for him too. The days were rough, no doubt, with the nightmares of your dad appearing occasionally, while Horacio faced difficulties in doing strenuous activities. But the patience and support the two of you had for each other was enough to keep you going, enough to bring you two closer together, you felt.

Your heart was heavy, and at this moment you didn’t know what to say to him. How could he think so little of himself? The very same person who held you close to him while recounting stories of his childhood to lull you to sleep, thought he wasn’t good enough for you? If there was anyone who wasn’t deserving of this wonderful relationship, you felt like it was you.

The man who stood opposite you had glassy eyes, staring back at you like a vulnerable child, wearing his heart out on his sleeves. Your mind was once again a chaos, thoughts all over the place as his words sank in. Your knees were starting to feel weak, and as the seconds went by, you felt like you were about to collapse. You closed your eyes to brace the impact, expecting the loud thud that came with falling against the cool hard ground, along with the pain that would come with it.

But you never made it to the floor.

You opened your eyes to see Horacio’s face inches away from yours, arms tightly wrapped around your body to prevent you from falling. His jaw was clenched, but he continued looking into your eyes, mirroring the sadness you knew was evident on your face. You daringly reached out to him, fingers running through his soft curls that you’ve been dreaming of touching since the day you first saw him. You dragged your fingers down his face, cupping his cheek before dragging your thumb over his lips.

It’s now or never, you thought, I might lose him if I don’t say it.

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat, letting out a shaky breath before swiping your thumb over his chin. It’s now or never.

“I love you.” You croaked out, your heart hammering in your chest, “I think I’m in love with you Horacio.”

He scans your face, looking for any signs of doubt or insecurity, only to be met with eyes filled with adoration and love looking right back at him. He sucks in a breath, eyes closed to stop himself from looking straight at you, to stop himself from getting lost in your eyes - the ones that admire him like he’s the only person in the world.

He feels your thumb move up to his cheek, caressing his cheekbones lightly. Your touch was so gentle, and he could feel himself leaning into your palm. His breathing was becoming shallow, and just as he was about to open his eyes, he feels it - feels you.

Your lips pressed against his, and he could taste the tears you cried just moments prior. Your lips were everything he imagined it to be, and more - soft and plush while tasting faintly like the juice you were drinking earlier. He stills for a moment, hesitant on what to do, before moving his lips in sync with yours as he feels you pull away. His tongue drags across your lips, a silent request to let him in.

But you already have.

You’ve let him in your life, giving him your heart from the day he comforted you. You’ve let him in, countless times. And as he pulls you closer into his arms, your heart aches, knowing that whatever comes next might not be pretty.

Your fingers tug his hair lightly, pulling his face closer to yours. The both of you stayed like this for a considerable amount of time, before he finally pulled away, panting softly from the lack of air. You could feel your heart thumping in your ears, beating so fast and hard you felt like it’d break out of your ribs at any moment.

You watched Horacio, who looked like he was deep in thought. His eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t quite catch. Was it guilt? Pain? Sympathy? You could only wish you knew, wish he’d tell you something.

You refused to mull over it at that moment, only wanting to go to bed that night with your husband in your arms. You firmly held his chin, turning it tenderly so that he’d look back at you. His eyes were a pretty shade of brown, illuminated by the harsh white kitchen lights. You ran your thumb under his eye, smiling just slightly as you whispered to him.

“Horacio, come to bed with me… Please?”

His adam's apple bops up and down, and now he looks back at you with a pained expression. He gently places you on the floor, removing your hand from the side of his face carefully before placing it down on your thigh.

I still don’t deserve you, he thinks, never have and never will.

“I think you should head to bed first, I’ll come in later.”

The wind howls against the shut windows, indicating yet another thunderstorm to come. The rain that had just started now splatter on the glass panels, creating a rhythmic thud sound that echoed throughout the room. You could feel your heart breaking just as quickly as it did the last time it had rained, and as you glanced at the man you loved, you felt the loneliness wash over you again. Just as it did all those weeks ago.

I’m sorry.

Horacio got up and walked over to his case files, barely sparing a glance at your confused state on the floor. The gesture alone had made tears spill down your face again, and you watched him delve right back into work.

I truly am sorry.

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo imagine #narcos #peachebunnys fic

99 notes · View notes

deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

Text

Summary: Javi hasn't called...again, Isa tries to distract herself making a new friend, but she doesn't know that her intentions are far from innocent and are tied to Javi crossing paths again with someone from his past.

Warning: cursing, mention of violence, threats, anxiety, kidnapping. Very hateful characters from the show 👀

A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN POSTED ALMOST A MONTH AGO. I will try to finish this before this month ends. I think I could wrap this in one chapter more and an epilogue probably.

Just a small warning. This is a work of fiction and the intention is merely to develop a little bit more of a character I adore, Javi Peña. There's mention of the drug cartel, the violence they inflected in Latinoamérica (and as a Latina it hurts me very deeply, believe me) and the political involvement of different governments and agencies but this is not a political statement or trying to do other thing than entertain.

Chapter VII: Smart Choices

Isabel had never been a very popular girl, always the shy one in high school and she made a very small group of friends in college. But as everything in her life, there was a before and after since her life changed and she had Elvira.

She could not go to the club with her friends, their conversations about their new graduate’s struggles hurt her since she had to drop out, their heartbreaks and adventures had nothing to do with her life surrounded by diapers, feeding bottles and sleepless nights and so one day the phone stopped ringing, their friendship was limited to birthday parties and Christmas postcards while she became a mum and a wife. And thus making her world a very small universe with her child at the center and Javi and her turning around her.

So when that lady at the supermarket, Judy, called her she didn’t think anything weird out of it. Instead she was happy, excited to have another struggling mum that needed some comforting from somebody that understands her as much as she did.

“I’m sorry I took the liberty to ask for your phone number, I have a friend that goes to your mum’s salon and I ask her for it” she had said the first time she called.

Judy is a funny and very quick and intelligent woman. When they got their first coffee together, Isa barely asks any question, Judy fills the conversations so Isabel never has the chance to ask when she is meeting her kid or who gave her her phone number since she knows every client of her mother’s salon by heart and nobody mentioned her ever. But Judy keeps the conversation flowing, sharing her tragic story about leaving Colombia out of a very tough situation with a guy and creating a new life for her and her kid in the USA.

“It must have been so tough” Isa pounders

“Colombia back then was a bloodbath, you had to navigate the streets in survival mode, always looking behind your back and praying to come back home safe” Judy explains

“My husband worked in Colombia for a few years”

“Oh really? When?”

“80’s early 90’s"

“Well, he must have known. So sad! it is a very beautiful country...”Judy’s gaze is fixed far away as if she’s remembering something

“I guess it’s difficult to talk about it, my husband never shares much”

“Mm” she hums, she opens a golden lighter and gets the flame close to the cigarette on her red lips “What did he do there?”

“He worked at the Embassy” she’s not lying but she prefers not to specify, and now that’s past, the details are not really important

“Oh! and that’s what he’s doing in Mexico now?” she asks exhaling a white cloud of smoke making a perfect o with her lips

“Not exactly”

“He must be careful; I heard things are following the same path we suffered back in Colombia”

“Yes...he’s...smart, I’m sure he will be fine” Isa answers more to convince herself than her new friend

“I saw in the news the other day how a few civilians died during a clash between two fronting cartels and then the police. Very, very horrible images" she smacks her lips

"I haven't watched the news…" the knot in Isa's stomach grows tighter, Javi haven't called back even if he promised he would

"They kill anyone that is on their way, civilians, gringos too, DEA agents…" the Colombian woman casually brings the coffee cup to her lips when Isa frowns at her

"What did you say?" She asks

"They kill civilians?" Judy smiles uncomfortably the corner of her lips stretching up

"No, the last part"

"Gringos...DEA agents" she repeats

"Why did you say that?" The knot gets tighter restringing her throat and her question is just a whisper

"I… assume Javier must be…"

"I haven't told you what he does"

Judy gasps and bats her long black lashes a few times before changing her face to a complete cold expression, her glossy lips now a tight red line

"Look, Isabel, I think you are a very smart woman…" she starts

"I'm leaving"

Isabel pushes her chair back to go but the other woman's hand holds her to the table, her perfect manicure claws making her stay

"Sit, don't do anything stupid" Judy spats, the brief confrontation has alerted the waiters and they look at them intently until Judy gives them a very warm apologetic smile

"Who are you? What do you want?" Isabel tries to hold herself but her instincts is crying for her tu run, to get her baby back and look for Javier

But Javi could be anywhere

"You know your husband and I met, many years ago" she continues smoking "we worked closely in the hunt of Escobar" she smirks "I admit I was surprised to find him married and with a kid. He used to be involved with a very different type of woman"

"What do you want from Javi? If you hurt him I swear…" Isa mutters

"You must have been really special. A magical pussy" she laughs "or are you that dumb and naive that he lied to you and believed it" she crosses her arms over her chest, looking with a smug face from the white cloud of smoke "do you know what he did in Colombia? Do you know what he's capable of?"

"Where is he? If you touch him I swear to God I kill you" Isa tries to contain the tears, to seem strong but fails which makes Judy smile wider

"Oh! So you are an idiot little girl. Better keep up, cielo, if you want your husband alive"

México

A constant, something that keeps on proving itself to be right: shit does follow him. He tries the breathing techniques that the doctor showed him but the bag on his head stinks like rotten meat and the heat inside the van is unbearable. He finds a little solace feeling Steve's tigh pressed against his. Both of them rocking back and forth with each bump on the road

"Connie is going to kill me" his friend says

" If they don't kill us first"

"Callense cabrones" one shouts and Javi hears the muttering insult Steve pronounces before receiving one hit himself

He feels the vomit running up his throat, the smell, the heat and the fear have mixed themselves on his stomach and he can no longer calm himself down. He’s about to die, he knows it. About time, my friend, I elude death for so long in Colombia, so many close calls and now I’m about to die in some unknown part of Mexico because of a fucking middle age crisis I couldn’t handle.

He tries so hard to close his lips and swallow, breath, Peña, breath. The only cold thing in this van is the thin silver chain and medallion he wears around his neck.

This would be a marvellous moment to do some magic, old man Javi says to himself and that old saint around his neck. What did Isa call the old man engraved in it? Saint Jude. Okay, Jude, show yourself, please. This is actually a lost cause, it’s your field of expertise, c’mon

“Andando” the sicario pushes him out of the van before he can even process they have stopped the vehicle. The man grabs him by the arm harshly and guides him forward, the sun pierces the black bag over his head but he can’t only perceive the light and the sound of the gravel under his boots.

Suddenly the light changes to a white light and he feels the temperature lowering: a house with air conditioner and there’s a soft murmur of water but otherwise the house is silent. Javi memorizes those tiny details, it’s the only thing that could eventually help him if they’re held hostage and not killed right away.

The sicario pushes him and for a few milliseconds Javier thinks he’s about to fall hard to the ground but ends up on a chair. Then they pull both his arms to the back without any care and handcuffs him there.

Javi jumps from his seat when he hears the loud thump of the door closing, still in the dark and without any sign of company, he calls:

“Steve…”

Nothing

“Your friend is in the other room”

He could recognize that fucking voice anywhere, is engravated in his brain, in that part of his head that is capable of the worst, that tiny espace where he keeps every hateful and the worst people he has met, Bill Stechner being the number one on that list.

“I was so happy thinking you were dead and crawling back to hell” Javi sighs before he’s hit by the clarity in the room. He blinks fast until his eyes are adjusted to it again. It’s a nice room, wide and scattered by a few pieces of furniture covered by white sheets, the dust in the air makes evident it has been closed for a long time.

“So was I thinking you were rotting old in your father’s little ranch but here we are”

His beard is greyer and the already receding hairline is back a few inches, but he looks exactly the same, tha smug stupid face is looking at him from above. That smirk of “I’m always five steps ahead from you” the same he had when he made him leave the Embassy before catching Escobar and the same he had when he tried to take down Cali. But now he’s here in Mexico, what the fuck is he doing here?

“And, do tell, please, why the fuck do are path cross again?” Javier spats

“Oh! I didn’t want to cross paths with you. I must admit I found it funny when I saw who was managing the account for our textile export, but you, being the noisy stupid man that you are “ Stechner approaches him, his smirk freezes in a tight line “had to call your friends. And you see, you’re mending on my business again”

“So you switched from the CIA to the Narcos?”

“Javier, javier…” he sighs “You are always focusing in the wrong things and not in the bigger picture”

“The bigger picture being…” Javier rolls his eyes at him

“You wouldn’t understand, I tried a few times in Colombia and you ended up fucking it all up” he shakes his head

“So what do you want from me now?”

“Well now that you are here fucking everything up again I’d prefer if the repercussions go to the right direction”

“Which is it not yours, I guess, or whomever you’re working for”

“Yeah” he laughs and points at him “you’re smart when you want”

“And wouldn’t it be better to kill us right away?”

“Oh, you see, my associetes want to do it” Stechner nods “The really don’t give a fuck. But I told them that you could be of service”

“You’re really delusional if you think…”

Stechner interrupts him “And if you weren’t willing to cooperate we could always resort to the good old ways” the man walks to a nearby table, over the white sheet there’s a manila folder. Bill opens it slowly, that stupid smirk back at again on his face, relishing on the desperation and fear in Javi’s eyes.

Please, not Isa, please not my child

“Your wife made a new friend, it’s a small world after all, isn’t it?” Stechner shows him a picture, he recognises the cafe, Isa is seated talking to another woman he hasn’t seen in years.

“Judy is very nice when she wants” he takes out another picture, this time Isa is on the backyard playing with Elvi “You have a very beautiful family”

“If you touch them, motherfucker” Javi tries to get out of the chair, he doesn’t even care if the metal from the cuff cuts his wrists. He just want to do what he has wanted to do since he started working in Colombia and crossed paths with the CIA

“They won’t, it is entirely upon you that this is just a simple anecdote. I promised I’ll try to control them...if you do what you have to do” Stechner shrugs and throws the pictures to the floor where they rest in front of Javi’s feet

“What do you want?” he murmurs, his gaze is fixed on those images trying to see something, when were they taken? how does he know if they already hurt them?

Please, please he begs and his vision is starting to blurry

“Well, my associates will appreciate it if the DEA will center its efforts on our common enemy. You see it right? it’s the same story all over again; the enemy of my enemy is my friend…”

“I’m not DEA anymore”

“Are you? I mean you’re here with your dear Steve in an ongoing investigation that mainly relies on your testimony so…”

Stechner roams around Javier’s chair “It’s not like you haven’t done it before, Javi, think about it as if you are involving yourself with the lesser evil, there will be a time to capture my associates, but not now”

“Just go back home and when the time comes you can assure the DEA that those terrible horrible people that are getting that poison in our beautiful country are involved with our common enemy. What is the difference between one Cartel and the other? It just a matter of time they both get caught” he continues

“Why are you involved in this?”

“We’ve done this many times, Peña, let it go. It’s better this way or do you want to end up like Kiki? or better yet, your beautiful wife or your kid?” Bill points to the pictures of the Peña’s family “think about it”

And he thinks about it, the hate and the fear burning in his chest. So many years protecting himself in covers of solitude, brief encounters to relieve the stress and alcohol, protecting his heart from this fear and pain of getting his family killed for his job.

You did this to them, you looked for it. Now what?

Isa (Laredo)

She drives fast, fast as she has never driven before. She has always been a very responsible person and even more when she became a mother. Elvira is seated on the back, her little hands holding the seat hard and she has called her a few times, her voice shaky and scared.

“Mami, where are we going?”

“To Grandpa’s, honey”

“You’re too fast”

“I know, but we need to get there now”

The screeching sound of the tires stopping abruptly on the road has alerted Chucho who now waits with the porch lights on when they get out of the car.

“Mija, what’s wrong?” he screams

“I think Javi is in the danger”

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x ofc #Javier Peña fanfic #Narcos #Narcos Fanfic #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Pena #Javier Pena fanfic #Javi Peña #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fic

2 notes · View notes

otherthingsinhead · 4 years

Text

Can We Start It Over?

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

Warnings: injuries/blood/language

Words: 2.3k

Request: Anonymous

hello, you write beautifully! can you please write a Steve x Javi, where Javi takes a bullet for Steve?! good amount of h/c with final confessions. you can choose whatever ending you like. many thanks!

oh I'm sorry about the request, I didn't know you don't do character x character. If it's all the same to you, if you could write the same prompt with Javi x reader, that'd be great! Thank you!!

Summary: A lot has changed since the accident. Most of these changes suck like the constant, dull pain in his guts or the fact that the days pass without purpose. But somehow the series of these changes have opened up a whole new world for the DEA agent and put his heart into action.

Time is particularly slow now. Javier’s eyes constantly shifting from the clock to the door. His crave for a cigar is getting stronger with every passing minute, but the box is laying untouched on the coffee table. Sure, it would calm his mind, but you can knock on the door at any moment and he knows how seriously you take the doctor's instructions. It's just so unlike you to be late...

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Your eyes only skimming his sitting figure on the couch as you storm through the door and put two heavy bags of groceries onto the kitchen table.

"Sorry, I'm late, I had to fill out a report. Messina’s up my ass since—" since I almost got you killed. You barely set foot in the room and the air is already tense with your unsaid words. Tense and thick with shame and you need to drag a good amount of this dense air into your lungs to keep your heart beating. "How are you?"

Javier’s body is strong but there’s pain in every one of his movement as he’s hobbling towards you. One hand is casually laying on his hip, the other is supporting him by the table. Damn, you hate to see him like this!

He must notice the remorseful look in your eyes, thus the mushy smile on his face, regardless of all the struggle of holding himself on his feet. He wants you to feel less guilty and though you are grateful for him you would rather feel all ashamed and miserable like you deserve.

"I'm good, Y/N," his tone is soft, eyes boring into yours as if he's pouring his own calm into you. It works. You nod with a fragile smile and dig up a deliciously steaming box from a bag.

"Good. I hope you're hungry!"

That's how it goes since he is back from the hospital. You come over to him in the morning before work and in the evening after work, trying to keep him occupied, do the laundry, bring food, keep the place and his wound clean in a hope he will feel better. Or more like that that you will feel better.

The worst is when you change the dressing on the wound. That is when you have to face the damage you have done. Clenched jaw, stiff chest and shaky breathes. Doesn’t seem like it, but Javier kind of enjoys those moments. Not the painful part of course but there is something about being taken care by you. Something engaging and exciting.

Yes, he is excited. He shouldn't be though. No other relationship is allowed than friendship between partners at the DEA yet, he can't keep his stupid heart from melting whenever you cast your beautiful smile at him.

So he can't help but adore these moments with you. He savors and memorizes the clumsy touches of your fingers as you are fumbling with the bandage around his torso or the image of your lip getting trapped between your teeth as you are concentrating, trying to get the tape to stick.

He hadn't completely figured out these feelings, but they are more tender then they should be. And definitely more passionate. Especially at nights, in the dark when the sinful feeling of longing is thriving within him, pushing the sweetest memories of you into his mind and his hands under the blanket.

After the dinner, you pile up some pillows behind Javier and help him halfway up into a sitting position on his bed. The room is dark and only the night lamp shines its light on the wound so you can focus all your attention on it. Carefully, he rolls up the hem of his shirt to expose the white patch clinging on his skin.

The gun had struck him just a little bit above the edge of his pelvic bone. The doctor said he was lucky to get off with a minor bruising like that. The bullet could have easily shatter his bone into pieces if it hits him from a smaller distance.

You usually try to distract him with small stories and bad jokes, talking about practically anything while cleaning the skin around the stitches. The process is torturous for both of you and keeping your minds busy helps a lot. But now you are silent. Silent and stiff.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah-hm just... had a rough day, you know."

"Messina? She knows it wasn’t your fault she shouldn’t be so hard on you."

"No, it’s not her. It’s... I just had a rough day, okay?"

Shit! You sounded more offended than you wanted to and he knows you better than to fall for such an obvious lie. He grabs your wrist and tilts his head, glaring at you with a nagging look in his eyes.

"It's Carillo," you confess with a shrug. "He... He is still mad I fucked up this operation."

"You didn't know it was—"

"Exactly!" Your voice is not loud nor judgemental but it helds a capricious tone and when you cast a quick glance at him, you see understanding in his eyes. He knows what he just put his finger on.

Carillo and Javier have been keeping you in the shadows from the first day you arrived. In the eyes of the Colonel, you are just a goddamned yankee from the states with no chips on the table and Javier—well, hell knows what is the matter with the stubborn head of that grumpy gringo.

"I’m your partner, Javi. You should have told me."

"You didn’t tell me about your intel either. If I knew you are planning on a one-man mission—"

"If you knew about it you’d send me for some shitty warrant to the embassy. I didn’t come to Colombia to sit on my ass while you and your cop friends are doing the job."

It is out. It is out and it sounds so wrong, as if you blame him for what happened when it was all your fault. The room is getting smaller and you have to bury your face in your palms, take a deep breath and let all the emotions to sink.

"I was so stupid," your voice is muffled and hoarse.

"No. No, you’re right. You just wanted to do something."

"Yeah, and I got a goddamn gun pressed against my forehead. If you didn’t come after me... I-I-I almost get myself killed and...," your voice crack and sob burst from your mouth.

"Y/N, por favor."

"And you, Javi. I-If you were dea-I... I-I still ha-have n-nightmares." Your whole body is trembling at the horror of the thought and tears like a waterfall, cascading down on your cheek.

"Hey! I didn't die, we’re both alive!” You hear him soothing but you can’t stop crying until he sits up and take one of your hands, pulling it towards him so he can feel your palm flat against his chest.

His grip is strong, almost painfully strong but you need it. You need to feel something to hold on, to drag yourself out from the false imaginations of events that never happened. The steady, unusually rapid beating of his heart is your lodestar and you can gradually narrow your focus to the softness of his skin, how warm and humid it feels under your palm and how easy it is to be lost in the intoxicating scent. It’s like a drug, making you want more and more of him until you are ready to sacrifice anything just to feel him closer. Much, much closer.

That's not going to happen. Not that you haven't always considered him handsome, but his jackass behavior and your common sense have helped holding back the affection you felt for him. You didn't fight your way up to the DEA for nothing. You can't put your reputation at risk. Not for a fucked-up romance with a womanizer.

"Carillo was right," you sniff, rubbing your eyes with your free hand to dry up the tears and get yourself together while trying to ignore the disturbingly pleasant feeling of his thumb stroking slow circles on your wrist. "Coming here was a mistake. I'll always be an outsider."

"Bullshit," he scoffs, he knows how much you care about these people and how hard you work to make this country safer for them.

"Javi, I... I-I don’t even speak the language,” you say and chuckle as a soft, ironic giggle bubble up inside you.

His thumb caressing your skin is so overwhelming, you need to avoid looking into his eyes for you are afraid you would lost in the darkness of them. But you can feel the searing gaze on your face, making you feel all hot and flustered, sweating like a virgin on the wedding night. What the hell is happening?

"Yeah, but... you have me,” he purrs softly like a cat, lips parted deliciously at the end, head lowered, eyes searching for yours to meet and there's no way avoiding his gaze any longer.

His eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips and back again and you feel a fucking thunderstorm raging in your chest as you fall into the kiss like it's gravity.

His lips are blazing hot, burning with the flames of some unquenchable thirst for tasting every part of your mouth as he delves himself into it. Everything is happening so fast as your whole world crumbles around you with the kiss. There's no time to think, no reason to stop. Your hand slithers from his chest to cradle the vast shoulder and you feel his strong fingers curving behind your neck, holding you firmly against his lips while you are kissing him back with equal fire and force.

The air is humid, filled with the wet sounds of the heated kiss and with the stifled noises escaping from you with rapid breaths as you are trying to suck enough oxygen into your lungs.

You need a break to breathe.

Your lips parting away from his but you let your head lull against his forehead, trying to regain control over your erratic breath or at least quell your mind a little bit.

"Javi," your stomach drops and you are suddenly snatched out from the delirious storm of emotions as you flutter your eyes open and see fresh blood leaking from the wound.

"It's ok, I’ll be fine," he pants and catches your lips between his again.

"Javi, I... w-we need to... mmh J-Javi, the w-wound... fuck!"

Your weak attempts of protesting are getting consumed by the heavenly sensation of open-mouthed kisses trailing along your jaw and down to your neck.

Then a painful hiss of breath slips from his lips.

"Ok, we need to fix this now," you insist with more determination than before but he can't make himself to ease the grip on your neck. It's like his sweetest dream is coming true and he is not ready to wake up from it.

"Javi!"

"I just... don't want it to disappear," he says, his half-lidded eyes are dark and heavy, lips glistening with the memory of the heated moments you just have shared.

He stares at you and feel a twinge of unease. Your eyes are hard to read, and your silence is puzzling.

“I have nightmares too,” his gaze drops to your hands, chest rises with a deep breath before he continues. “When they said you're in the building I... I didn't know if I'm going to make it in time,” his voice is small, almost wavering.

“I'm so sorry, Javier. I'm sorry you had to save me but it wouldn't have happened if you didn't try to–”

“Protect you?”

Your raise an eyebrow up at him, you can't believe he thinks you are just a helpless princess amongst hungry monsters.

“It's not your job to protect me,” you say softly but hurt hangs on every syllable.

“I can't help myself,” he chuckles. He has already sacrificed a lot for catching Escobar and he is ready to sacrifice even more. Anything. Anything, but you.

He brushes his fingertips along your jawline and tips your head so you can see the honest sparkling in his eyes.

“I have feelings for you.”

Your jaw drops open at his words and your heart begins to slam frantically against your ribcage. He can't just say something like that and shake the whole world around you. You feel like you're spiralling.

“I don't really know what are these feelings but... they make me feel different. They make me believe I can be more, make me want to be a better person. And when I see the guilt in your eyes, see you suffering because of me it's... it destroys me.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest and your eyes are glassy from the tears you are holding back. You have no idea what to say to a confession like this. You have never denied the physical attraction but you've never thought about it further.

“Javi, I don't... I—”

“I just want you to know you don't have to feel bad about what happened. We both chose a wrong path but... we got a chance to make it up,” his lips curl up to a faint but genuine smile making your heart swell with happiness. Or maybe affection?

The air between you grows full and magnetic, his thumb rubbing across your cheek, smearing the wetness along its way.

“So what do you think? Can we start it over?”

“We should try it at least,” you sniff. “And we definitely should find out those feelings you've talked about...”

His eyes sparkling as he leans forward, slowly closing the gap between your lips when you press a finger of objection upon his mouth.

“...after I fixed this bloody wound of yours.”

Playfully, you cock an eyebrow at him with a wide smile, watching in awe as the tip of his tongue trails a wet line along his lower lip before he speaks.

“Anything you want, partner.”

All tags: @maryan028 @pedrothirst @pascalisthepunkest

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos fanfiction #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena #javier pena x gn!reader #gn!reader #gif is not mine #credit to the owner #javier pena one shot #gif isn't mine #credits to the owner

130 notes · View notes

floosies · 4 years

Text

Series: La Munenca del Barrio

Warnings: NSFW, Blood, violence, smut, strong language, and drug use

SIdenote: Spanish text (this chapter will focus on Maritiza and Rafael)

Rocio Cruz lives in a Brooklyn block best known for its vibrant and ignored community. What she always ignored though was the underground scene in the borough, the evils that lay in it and its people. That all comes to an end when she’s introduced to those things she ignored.

Chpt. 6: Estoy Pensando en Ella

Series Masterlist

Maritza Dolores Rosales was born into a small town in Guerrero, Mexico in 1968. Her parents were people who didn’t make much but lived day by day. When she was 9 they moved to America, where her papa started working as a cook in restaurant and her mama made dresses for gringos. By the time she was 18, her father took over the restaurant from the old man who used to own it.

Rafael “Pajarito” Mateo Cruz was born into a similar situation in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico in 1965. His father had left him and his family when he was 6 for another women. In time he would be the one who’d have to provide for his mother and two younger siblings. By the time he was 20, he’d leave his home for search for more money.

(1988)

It was a busy night at the restaurant and she was on her shift, working so she could have some Friday’s off with friends to go see the other side of New York. Pajarito was going to have dinner with a couple of the guys from work. They knew the right spot to go get something quick and see pretty girls. That was where he saw her, in her red apron and white dress. He swore he saw an angel in the flesh.

He kept an eye on her while he ate. She was too important for him in that moment and his friends caught on, “te gusto la nena? Es hija del dueno de aqui, cuidado que ella no se deja con quien sea.” One of them said to him, but she’s caught him staring at her enough for her to notice. She went back to the kitchen waiting for her next order to be ready, a girl who gossiped more than the senoras verduleras around the block worked with her as a waitress as well, “tu sabes algo del prieto sentando en la ultima mesa?” She looking at the man she’d fall in love with. The girl looked a bit concerned as she followed Maritza’s stare, “cuidado con el, que trabaja con ojos azules.” He was cute and that piqued her interest enough.

Behind her parents’ back she took the risk. Somehow the whole working with the mob didn’t faze her at all. Maritza was far more invested on him as a person. He was sweet, gentle, and honest with her. Of course he was, he adored her and her way of being. With money saved, he bought an apartment. Something they could call theirs and not have to worry about her threatening papa who said he’d slice Rafael into two if he saw him near his daughter again after they got caught kissing behind the restaurant one night.

It wasn’t much later that they were engaged, mainly because Maritza had become pregnant with a girl. To say her parents were beyond upset was an understatement pero que hacer. On the other hand by the time she admitted it to everyone, Rafael was doing good financially, enough to bring his family over. They didn’t like New York though, “mami pero tengo los chavos para que tenga un lugarsito serca de mi.” He tried to plead to her, but she wasn’t alone. He’d brought over his siblings too, sus manos Matias, Beatriz, y Lucas. They were kids unlike him, the eldest of the three was Beatriz but she was only seventeen.

He couldn’t get them to stay but they didn’t go back. Turns out some of his father’s family who’d got to America years before Rafael was willing to help his mama find a place in Florida. They hated his father for being a deadbeat, that was their answer as to why they were helping. Rafael was just glad he got them out of Puerto Rico and somewhere nicer. He’d send them money every other week. When the wedding came, it didn’t come easily. Everyone wanted a say on the music, the church, the guests, whatever they could basically control. Rafael tried to comfort Maritza who was beyond aggravated with all of it.

That wedding was a masterpiece though. Ojos Azules made sure que todo sea al puro cien, nothing was cheap. The reception made Maritza cry with happiness. She’d married well, even her parents agreed. Doña Constancia was very happy too, her son had made a good life for himself and never left his family out of his wealth, plus she had a grandchild on the way. In her head, Maritza was getting everything she’d ever wanted from life.

Money wasn’t a problem, the apartment was nice, and she was going to have a baby girl. For a good while, she even forgot what her husband did as work. Until it got bad. Right before the baby was born, there was a fear of traitors in Ojos Azules “corporation” and that led to more dirty work for her pajarito.

He was loyal and where she admired him for it, at the same time she’d wish he wasn’t. Because his loyalty was to that old man just as much as it was to her. Sometimes he’d be brought home by his co-workers so that he wouldn’t get hurt. See Rafael was quiet but not stupid, he always spoke spanish to make the gringos think he didn’t understand shit. He knew everything though and he’d always report back to his boss. Like a little parrot or song bird, he’d ruin people before they even got the chance to begin their plan. (You could see why his arrest was a celebration to many)

Some nights he’d be home covered in blood, not his, but that didn’t matter when it was dripping all over the floor, off his shoes. Thankfully it died down for a while. A good while, that allowed for Rocio’s birth to be a beautiful peaceful occasion. When Maritza found out that her family would be blessed with financial help that would span a lifetime to Rocio, she was beyond thrilled. Her daughter would never grow hungry like she did many times. Rafael thanked his boss profusely with tears in his eyes. He really believed that God had heard his prayers after all.

When Rocio was five though, all hell broke loose. Ojos Azules had died and a new guy was in charge. Rafael hated him with a passion, the man wouldn’t let him go home until he felt like it. The “paychecks” would come late or missing the full amounts and what was supposed to be for his daughter never showed up. Maritza knew hard times were coming, pero todo se trueno when at a block party they were at was balasiado by a man working with Rafael, they were after him and his friend. His friend was shot and died in front of her daughter. That’s when her blood boiled and she hated him Mika too.

Did she support the coup to kill him? Legally? No, never she was a respectable women and mother. If anyone else was asking, she would’ve killed him with her bare hands and made sure he knew who he’d fucked with. Mika died pleading like the little bitch he was. She was happy when he died, she prayed to God for forgiveness about those feelings but he’d ruined her daughter’s life, technically. Months after his death and Rubio taking over as the youngest boss in Brooklyn’s history, Maritza was pregnant again, with twins.

Rafael felt at ease again, his life was calm again. Then it came, in a whirlwind, while Rocio was at school. Maritza pleading that they had the wrong man, cried for her them to let go of her husband. It was too late, he was gone. An anger built up, a pain so strong that never died so much as it dulled into sadness. Rocio would never find out what really happened, she knew better than to hurt her that way.

The beautiful apartment was gone. Steve Rogers had sent her a message to go into hiding for awhile as they interrogated Rafael. Her parents didn’t say much about their son-in-law. Any money that Rubio would send would be sent back. Her pride and her resentment made her despise that type of life even more. Then came the news that he wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon. She worked her hands raw and raised three children, still holding hope that he’d be back soon

-Present Day

As she cooked dinner in the small kitchen of the apartment, a knock came at her door. Outside stood an old friend of Rafa’s. Quintero held an envelope for Maritza. As she opened the door and saw him, the color on her skin drained, “que haces aqui.” She whispered with a bit of anger and fear. He held out the envelope, “tu pajarito va a volar otra vez muy pronto. Quiere el que estes ahi.” He spoke quietly but with a stern voice. Inside the envelope was the court hearing date and place for the release of Rafael Mateo Cruz.

#mob!steve #mob!bucky #mob!au #sam wilson #spanish #hispanic #espanol #mcu #avengers #marvel #chris evans #anthony mackie #Sebastian Stan #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers

15 notes · View notes

mattydjg · 3 years

Photo

This week its two of the biggest festivals battle it out tommorrowland vs ultra Tracklist: 1. Toca vs Calabria vs Giratina vs Freaks (Timmy Trumpet Tomorrowland 2017 Intro Mashup) 2. Carnage x Timmy Trumpet vs Linkin Park - PSY Or DIE vs Numb (Timmy Trumpet Mashup) 3. Calvin Harris vs KEVU - Gringos My Way (JLENS Edit) 4. Infinity Vs Dragon - ( Timmy Trumpet Tomorrowland 2017 Mashup ) [ S3B4S B34T Remake ] 5. ANG x Hardwell & KAAZE - Legends Make It Move (JLENS Edit) 6. Party Till We Die vs Sandstorm vs Valencia [Timmy Trumpet Mashup/Giodex Edit] 7. Hardwell Feat Harrison Vs Firetek Vs Nicky Romero Feat Nervo -Earthquake Vs District 12 Vs Like Home - The MDH Projekt & Andrew Padlock Edit 8. L`Amour Toujours Vs Symphony - ( Timmy Trumpet Tomorrowland 2017 Mashup ) [ S3B4S B34T Remake ] 9. Faded (Tiesto Remixes) (Tiesto) 10. Blasterjaxx & DBSTF vs Maddix - Beautiful Zero (JLENS Edit) 11. AVB vs Martin Garrix x DV&LM & FPB - Ping Pong Tremor (JLENS 2k18 Edit) 12. Hardwell & Steve Aoki x DVBBS vs Blasterjaxx - Pyramids Voodoo Anthem (JLENS Megamash) 13. NWYR & Andrew Rayel x Jay Sean - Back To The Melody (JLENS Edit) 14. DV&LM x AVB x W&W x Bassjackers - Repeat After Memories (JLENS Edit) 15. Afrojack & Fais Vs. NERVO & Audiorockers - Used To Have It All Anywhere You Go (VodaFish Mashup) . . https://soundcloud.com/dj_mattyg/weekly-mix-133-tomorrowland-vs-ultra . . #ddj1000 #pioneerdj #pioneerdj_gear #rekordbox #rekordboxdj #dj #djset #djlife #edmlife #kuvo #hiphop #trap #housemusic #edm #dance #dubstep #technomusic #trancemusic #futurehousemusic #deephouse #music #mixing #decks #macbookpro #bose #rave #bpm #deejay #djlife #mixcloud #soundcloud (at Blackburn) https://www.instagram.com/p/CG5U0WkAeMy/?igshid=1wtklnhlsv5co

0 notes

cactuscanyonceramics · 6 years

Text

This is a real problem. There is a large population of artisans in Spain that produce beautiful, top quality ceramics. There are no regulations in the Spain that require a product to carry a label on where it is made. For example, in the U.S., you can pick up a piece of tableware, turn it over and it will carry a label or stamp saying “Made in China”. Not so in Spain, and this is a huge danger to the future of artisan production in Spain. You can imagine the backlash of “American Made” factories, if merchants did not have to put “Made in China” on products. Most people are inclined to purchase the cheapest item available, even if clearly sacrificing quality. Cheap wins hands down most times. If US merchants did not have to declare where items were made, it would kill most local manufacturing in the States.

Jesus Gonfer throwing a pot

The photos above showsJesus Gonfer throwing a bowl on the potting wheel and also a pitcher that he produces in the 100s. Jesus lives in El Puente del Arzobispo and he produces the pitchers and bowls that are given as gifts for patrons to the “oldest restaurant in the world” – Restaurante Botín in Madrid, which is especially famous for their roast suckling pig.

Chinese Ceramics in Seville Gift Stores

I am very familiar with the pottery landscape in Spain and I know which factories sell the Chinese ceramics in Andalusia. Once in a while I pass through gift stores in Seville or the surrounding pueblos/cities. I always make a practice of picking up the pieces that are made in China, and I say “Estos son hecho en China” (these are made in China). Four out of 5 times, the shop keeper will adamantly tell me that “NO, … the pottery is made and hand painted in Spain”. Most really don’t know, and I get the idea that they don’t ask questions of their suppliers. Gift store merchants are all about margins (as most merchants are). They have tons of other Chinese made trinkets in their stores. If they can buy a very cheap piece of pottery, put a larger markup on it, that is what they will do of course. If the shop owner is told by the factory sales person that the pottery is “Spanish” (wink, wink), they don’t ask questions. Plausible deniability – the less they know the better. If it is cheap they can sell it at regular Spanish pottery prices and make even a larger margin.

Business is Business

Hey, I fully respect a product hand painted in China. I believe there is market place for all levels of quality and value. Let the customer decide. But, a typical customer in a gift shop in Spain needs to be informed. There is a vibrant artisan culture in Spain which is reflected in the plazas, restaurants and stores. Many times a tourist wants to take something authentic from Spain back to their home. I believe that a tourist should know if they are purchasing authentic Spanish pottery, or Chinese pottery made with Spanish designs. I think this is also really important for local artisans also. If more and more Spanish factories send their designs to China for mass production, it will annihilate the Spanish pottery economy. Third generation potters and painters will have to move to cities and … I don’t know … drive taxis? …clean buildings? …fish, ….pick olives? Already the unemployment rate in Spain is above 20%. The rate is higher for young people and underemployment and two or three part time jobs are the norm.

I think that the pottery should be labeled clearly if it is “Made in China”, just as it is in the States. The customer can then decide if they want to buy a $6 dollar Chinese bowl, or spend the extra $2 and get an authentic Spanish made bowl.

Full Disclosure

When I first arrived to Spain in 2010 and started visiting Spanish tile and pottery factories/workshops, I did not know the difference between Chinese produced pottery and Spanish made. I began working with one of the larger Andalusian factories as a US sales agent. I did not know that a portion of what they offered was made in China. As I clued in, I had several discussions with one of the owner/operators of the dangers involved with passing off Chinese stuff as made in Spain. The owners/operators of the factory never admitted out loud, that the stuff was made in China. If people were savvy enough to ask where pieces were produced, pat answers were given such as “we get other factories to produce this, some is made Portugal”. They stayed away from the whole concept of “China”. It was all hush, hush, wink, wink. I learned that even the annual trip to China to fine tune the designs in the Chinese factories was hush, hush, – almost top secret.

There is nothing wrong with getting things made in China. Heck, everybody does it and China is getting better and better at providing a range of quality, not just cheap crap. I enjoy listening to podcasts about selling online, creating brands and the challenges of e-commerce. Two of my favorites are EcommerceFuel (Andrew Youderian) and My Wife Quit Her Job (Steve Chou). Much of the discourse is about how to develop products and then source them in China. The US market place is stuffed full of Chinese products. It is a good thing. But,… again, the customer should always know where the product is made.

I no longer work with the Spanish factory that sells the Chinese knock-offs. I worked really hard for them for several years, but many problems arose with them which lead to hard lessons learned by this “Gringo living in Spain”. Thank God I moved on rapidly. I shook the dust from my heels and hit the road and will never look back.

I should clarify that both the factories that I know are selling Chinese knock offs, also have their own workshops where they have an outstanding teams of painters. So they also sell “Spanish made”, which creates a convenient smokescreen for the Chinese stuff. One factory sells beautiful pieces with unique designs and the other produces top notch “cuerda seca“, which is a technique for making brightly colored pottery with colored glazes. As an aside, the cuerda seca is a technique very specific to Seville. And I believe the early Spanish colonists in Mexico implemented this technique, which has since evolved into the very well know line of “Mexican Talavera“.

All Right Big Stuff, Put Up or Shut Up – What’s the Difference?

How do you tell Chinese stuff from the real deal? I recommend 4 methods for identifying knock off, Chinese made Spanish pottery.

1. Examine the Fired Markings, Seals or Signatures

Look for a fired in the kiln seal or mark on the bottom that says “Handmade in Spain”, “Hand painted in Spain” or a signature. Something that does not peel off or look like it was printed on with ink. Sometimes the Chinese distributing factories will place a clear plastic seal or label on the bottom of the piece with their factory name or even stamp their name on the piece with ink. These factories have not gotten to the point where they will stamp the Chinese products “Made in Spain”. That would be against the law. So they blow smoke and make it confusing but don’t actually say “Made in Spain”. By looking closely at the bottom of the piece, you should get a pretty good idea whether or not the piece is authentic.

2. Look for “Drip Marks” in the glaze application

Another way to identify authentic Spanish ceramics is to look for a drip mark or an uneven application on the bottom of the piece.

Applying glaze by dipping the piece with a pliers and twisting it as the piece is withdrawn, so that the glaze swirls around the piece and settles (without drip marks).

Grip marks of the pliers used for dipping in glaze

You should be able to see an uneven finish of the glaze, usually on the bottom. You might even see a drip mark. It is more difficult to see with clear glaze. You can see it very clearly with a “honey” glaze.

To date, the Chinese “Spanish pottery” has not had this tell tale sign. I believe the Chinese glaze their pieces with high pressure pistols or glaze application machines, similar to what is used for standard, machine made dishes made in China.

3. Examine the Weight and Shape

The Chinese stuff is much more uniform. If it looks like it was made by a machine, chances are it was. To date, the Chinese stuff has always been white clay (bisque), with very bright colors. Usually a shop will offer 4 or 5 designs, and if the pieces have exactly the same shape (I mean exactly) every time, then it is probably Chinese. I don’t know for sure, but I believe the Chinese stuff is mass, machine made because it is so uniform.

Spanish potters use machine presses and forms (in addition to hand throwing), and in every case, there will be “hands on” in Spain. The final touch, smoothing, scraping, reforming is done by hand. Not so with the Chinese pottery, it is all machine made.

Also, to date the Chinese stuff is lighter and chips easier than the traditional bisque of Andalusia. If one piece looks more authentic and you are not sure about another, pick them up. The Chinese pottery is usually lighter in weight (different clay).

If it look looks like it was made by a machine, it probably was. The Chinese do hand paint the designs, and there are differences in the painting usually regarding the weight of the “slip trailing” design, but that is a little more technical.

4. Ask the Shop Keeper

I have found Spaniards to be honest and helpful. Walk straight up to them and ask if the pottery you are interested in was made in China. They are always helpful regarding straight questions. If they huff and puff and don’t answer, weight their reaction and listen to what they say. If they don’t say “no it isn’t” straight up, then chances it is Chinese and they know it. Follow your gut and buy what you want.

Conclusion

There is nothing wrong with buying Chinese “Spanish pottery” if that is what you will be satisfied with. It is usually cheaper and the colors are beautiful, the same as the colors of authentic pieces. But you should be aware of what you are purchasing.

I think identifying Spanish pottery made in China with a “Made in China” sticker is important for the future of the Spanish potting communities in Spain, and for the health and continued confidence of customers looking for “Made in Spain”.

For authentic, handcrafted and hand painted Spanish dishes – shop GringoCool.com

Thanks for reading. I welcome comments or questions. – Steve

How to recognize authentic Spanish pottery - and not be fooled by Chinese knock-offs. This is a real problem. There is a large population of artisans in Spain that produce beautiful, top quality ceramics.

#authentic pottery #Chinese pottery #labeling #Made in China #Made in Spain #spanish ceramics #spanish pottery

2 notes · View notes

chopcult · 5 years

Photo

Best of luck! Reposted from @moto_fam - WE PICK THE WINNER TOMORROW AT NOON!!!!!! Go get your ticket, before it’s too late!!!!! 🚨RAFFLE TIME🚨 Check out this beauty!! @speedkings_cycle & @acpc_riverside got together and came up with the idea to create something amazing to help us raise money. Steve from Speedkings found a @biltwell Gringo S when they were moving shops...so he handed it over to Alex at @acpc_riverside and let him work his magic... and BAM👊🏼 Isn’t it amazing?! We can’t thank you Steve & Alex enough! Here are the rules: -Click the link in our bio. It’ll take you straight to the donation page of our website. Make a $15 donation and you are ENTERED TO WIN. -On April 29th we will pull a name from everyone that made a donation and announce it here on our page! 100% of the proceeds go directly to help a rider facing life changing injuries after a serious motorcycle accident, so thank you for entering and GOOD LUCK! #motofam #itsgoodkarma #biltwell #speedkingscycle #acpcriverside #chopcult https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw00u31FAcD/

0 notes

newstfionline · 7 years

Text

While Trump bashes NAFTA, it’s Americanizing Mexico

By Joshua Partlow and David Agren, Washington Post. August 28, 2017

MEXICO CITY--The vast Oasis mall, situated in the cobblestoned neighborhood where the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés once lived and where Frida Kahlo painted self-portraits, is an unheralded symbol of Mexico in the era of NAFTA.

Two decades after the North American Free Trade Agreement opened the consumer floodgates here, Mexicans have become accustomed to such luxurious shopping centers, where you can browse Williams-Sonoma crockery, try on Steve Madden shoes, eat at Olive Garden, take your kids to Chuck E. Cheese’s, and watch “War for the Planet of the Apes” on the big screen.

The revolution in shopping options has become so ingrained that many Mexicans recall with haziness the pre-NAFTA days of limited brand choices, domestic knockoffs and black-market scrounging. In such cultural ways, the NAFTA years have brought Mexico and the United States far closer together, a cross-border blending of behaviors that even a clampdown on trade is unlikely to undo.

NAFTA renegotiation talks began Aug. 16 in Washington, on the same day that the NFL sold out tickets in under an hour for an upcoming football game in Mexico City. These first sessions wrapped up four days later, just before a Hollywood movie crew began to film “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” in Mexico City’s central plaza.

On Sunday, President Trump once again blasted NAFTA, tweeting that it was the “worst trade deal ever made.” He blames the treaty for the $60 billion annual U.S. trade deficit with its southern neighbor and a loss of industrial jobs. But in Mexico, NAFTA represents something more profound. In conversations here, free trade is often a stand-in for what kind of relationship Mexico wants with the United States, and what type of country Mexico wants to be.

“NAFTA broke the barriers that limited our society from going out into the world,” said Sergio Aguayo, a prominent political commentator and academic at the College of Mexico. “In a spontaneous way, it began to hybridize cultures, from Mexico to the United States and from the United States to Mexico.”

That cultural mixing--and the job gains that have come to some sectors with freer trade--have made NAFTA more popular in Mexico than north of the border. A Pew Research survey published in May found that 60 percent of Mexicans polled believed NAFTA had benefited the country, compared with just 39 percent of Americans.

Analysts attribute Mexico’s positive feelings to NAFTA’s role in opening what had been for decades a closed economy. The agreement ushered in a flood of U.S. consumer goods and retailers such as Walmart--now Mexico’s largest employer--and chains such as Starbucks, which has opened outlets in all 32 states and sells drinks costing more than the daily minimum wage of $4.50 per day.

All the big box stores that populate the American landscape--Costco, Target, Home Depot, Office Depot, Best Buy--also fly their flags in Mexican cities.

“Mexico, in consumer terms, has always loved the United States,” said Esteban Illades, editor of the Mexican magazine Nexos. “The definite proof that this country loves America is that IHOP opened its first outlet on Palmas,” one of Mexico City’s swankiest streets--and near the offices of the country’s richest man, Carlos Slim.

Mexican government and business leaders are zealous advocates of free trade and lower tariffs, even though that wasn’t the case for much of the past century. The Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), which came to power in 1929, eventually embraced a protectionist model that kept out foreign competitors and subsidized domestic industries--a strategy intended to keep the powerful United States from bleeding the Mexican economy dry.

One result of this strategy was that product selection was scant, with items often of poor quality and sold at high prices. Mexicans who could afford to often traveled to Texas and other border states to shop or found contraband known as “fayuca” at home--everything from imported Snickers bars to Levi’s jeans to stereo systems.

Mexico started opening in the 1980s, joining the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), a worldwide free-trade pact, in 1986. Seven years later, Mexico’s Senate approved NAFTA.

“The variety, quality and the prices” are all better now, said Luis de la Calle, an economist and one of the original NAFTA negotiators. “Previously, Mexican companies wanted to sell what they decided to produce. Now they produce what sells. It’s a psychological and cultural change, thanks to NAFTA.”

Some of the artifacts of pre-NAFTA Mexico can be found in the Museum of Ancient Mexican Toys, a four-story time capsule in Mexico City that has preserved an era when model trains and buses, “lucha libre” plastic wrestling dolls and hand-crank music boxes were manufactured in Mexico.

The owner, Roberto Shimizu, opposed the free-trade agreement when it was negotiated, and he was far from the only one. The Zapatista guerrilla group launched its armed rebellion on Jan. 1, 1994, the day NAFTA went into effect.

Guadalupe Loaeza, a 71-year-old columnist, said Mexican consumers have morphed over her lifetime into something almost foreign to her.

At dinner parties, she said, her friends serve imported steaks; when she goes to restaurants it might be for sushi, hamburgers, Argentine beef, Spanish tapas, Italian pastas. Mexican food, she said, is “not the first option.”

“The world has become more open to us, and it’s made us voracious, greedy for everything, insatiable,” Loaeza said. “So many excesses have contaminated us as a society; we have lost our essence, our equilibrium.”

The degree to which NAFTA has transformed Mexico or “Americanized” the country remains disputed. The Mexican government promoted the agreement in the early 1990s with the heady promise of making Mexico “First World.” But the economy has expanded at a middling pace of roughly 2.6 percent annually.

Some states have boomed, including those benefiting from tourism, such as Quintana Roo and Baja California Sur (home to Cancún and Los Cabos, respectively) and the central-west region known as the “Bajío,” where auto and manufacturing investments flooded in. However, almost half the population still lives in poverty, according to government statistics, while average purchasing power has eroded in recent years.

Unlike during the first negotiations, no strong anti-NAFTA lobby has surfaced in Mexico recently. Protesters, including farmers and union members, did march on the day that NAFTA talks began, and some prominent politicians say they want to pull out of the treaty before Trump can blow it up. But the opposition does not appear large enough to influence Mexico’s bargaining position. Even leftist presidential candidate Andrés Manuel López Obrador--whose lead in the polls spooks political and business elites--hasn’t forcefully attacked the treaty.

The lack of widespread opposition in part comes from the weakness of unions and farm groups. Analysts cite additional factors, including Mexicans’ appreciation of the wider selection of goods and services available. After Trump’s inauguration, an attempt at ginning up a boycott of Starbucks and other American companies fell flat.

Lawmakers have also kept any anti-NAFTA rhetoric in check, a reflection of the country’s cautious political culture and a recognition that Mexico depends on foreign direct investment, said Juan Fernando Ibarra, a Mexico native and assistant professor of political science at Colgate University.

Ibarra also points to the boom in the Bajío region, where annual GDP growth in some states has topped 10 percent a year.

“Growth in the country has, on the whole, been somewhat poor,” he said. “But there is a nucleus of states that really benefited.”

Along with growing trade, American trends have taken hold in Mexico.

“Brisket is now in the vernacular,” said Dan DeFossey, a Long Island native and co-founder of Pinche Gringo BBQ, one of at least 14 barbecue joints in Mexico City. (Pinche translates as “damned,” or worse.)

DeFossey started selling brisket from an Airstream trailer parked in a vacant lot in 2013, later started a restaurant and recently opened a second 410-seat outlet.

A poll for El Financiero newspaper found 88 percent of Mexicans surveyed disapproved of Trump--with just 3 percent expressing approval. But DeFossey says the anger toward Trump hasn’t surfaced in his barbecue business.

“The day after the election I was terrified, because of our name, Pinche Gringo,” DeFossey said. “Not one time has anyone said anything about us or given us bad comments.

“It’s the most beautiful thing in this country, the separating of politics from people.”

#Mexico #NAFTA #American goods in Mexico

1 note · View note