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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

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First Words (Javier x Readr) {MTMF}

Tile: First Words Rating: PG Length: 2100 Warnings: Fluff Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1993 after A Dance Owed. Summary: Reader and Javier spend their last day in Laredo and it’s one of firsts.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @cinewhore @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110 @katlikeme

“She’s gonna say abuelo before she gets either of our names right.” Javier said lightly as he walked in from the back patio, sliding the screen door shut behind him. “Wrapped around his finger.”

“Josie’s fond of her Peña men.” You retorted, glancing up at him for a second before turning your attention back to the tomatillos you had boiling on the stove. “I can’t say I blame her, however—“

Javier arched a brow at you as he walked further into the kitchen, “However?”

“I can’t help but feel like I’m being a little set up here.” You told him, reaching for the spoon and giving the pot a stir.

“I told you I’d help.” He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth as he gave you a look. “But I know you know how to make it.”

“I do know how to make verde. It’s simple.” You retorted, setting the spoon back onto the stone holder on the counter. “But I’ve made this for the two of us, not your extended family.”

You knew Chucho and Javier were just trying to make you feel like part of the family — because you were, but at the same time they’d inadvertently set you up for failure.

“Hey,” Javier said lowly, hooking his finger into the belt loop of your jeans as he drew you away from the boiling pot. “They’ll love it.” He assured you, smoothing his hand down your hip. “You made a good impression at the wedding.”

“I figured the only impression I made was — that poor girl Javier accidentally got knocked up.” You taunted, cocking your head to the side as you looked up at him. “I’ve never had to do the extended family thing.”

“Me neither.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth.

You gave him a skeptical look, “You almost married a woman, Javier. You never met Lorraine’s grandparents? Her aunt? A weird uncle?”

He scratched at the back of his neck and glanced downwards, “Touché.”

“That’s what I figured.” You grabbed the dish towel off the counter and swatted him in the thigh with it. “If you’re going to stay in here, get the blender out.”

You’d had a handful of serious relationships in your life, and every time they got remotely close to really serious you’d quickly found a reason to skirt out of it unscathed.

Maybe you didn’t want to admit it aloud, but that was exactly what had happened with Lance too. Except it was paired with the sobering realization that you wanted Javier — who had seemed unattainable.

Who never once gave you the impression that underneath his bachelor veneer, that he could be something like a family man. When you first met him you never would’ve imagined yourself standing in Texas in his father’s kitchen, making salsa verde because his tia was coming over to visit before you went home to Miami.

“Baby, did you remember cilantro?” Javier questioned as he hauled out the blender and plugged it in on the counter by the microwave.

“There are so many knives in this kitchen.” You shot him a look over your shoulder. “And don’t the neighbors have pigs?”

“Ouch.” He feigned injuring, clutching at his chest. “I might have to take my offer to take ownership of the verde off the table.”

“Ha. Ha.” You laughed humorlessly, shutting off the stovetop.

Javier leaned against the counter opposite of you, arms folded across his chest as he watched you work. You could feel his eyes on you as you blended down the sauce in small increments, before pouring them into a bowl to cool.

“You know, they all adored you.” He told you, once you shut off the blender. “Pretty sure they couldn’t figure out what you were doing with me, but that didn’t change that they adored you.”

You smiled at him as you cleaned up the mess you had made, tucking the dirty dishes into the sink, “They’ve all made me feel so welcome. Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.”

You recognized that some of the kindness was probably pity. You weren’t stupid — you were fully aware of the optics of the situation.

Javier had a history of burnt bridges; a history that his entire family and the whole goddamn town knew about. You and Josie probably looked pretty flammable to them. If only they knew you’d been made flame resistant from all the bridges you’d set alight while standing on them.

They hadn’t seen him in Colombia after Josie was born. They hadn’t been there through the years that mattered.

Chucho was probably the only one who actually believed that you’d still be around next Christmas.

“Just one more night, baby.” Javier reminded you as he crowded in close to you at the sink. “Then we’ll be in Miami.”

You sank back against him and sighed heavily, “I’m looking forward to it being just the three of us again.” You curled your fingers around his arm as he curled them around your waist. “I haven’t spoken to my own brother in years. You can imagine how navigating your extended family feels.”

“You do it so well,” He pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Couldn’t even tell you were nervous.”

You elbowed him in the gut, making him swear as you twisted around in his hold. “Fuck off.” You taunted, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips before slipping away from him. “I’m gonna go see what Josie and Chucho are up to.” You gestured to the cooling dish. “Finish our verde.”

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and nodded, “I’ll be out there in a bit.” He told you as you slid the back door open and stepped outside onto the patio.

Laredo was a nice change of pace from Colombia. Wide open spaces and a little peace and quiet. You almost regretted that the three of you would be moving back into an apartment in a few days.

You tried to picture what a younger Javier looked like working on the ranch alongside his father. You’d seen the pictures in frames on the walls, the old high school graduation picture stuck on the side of the fridge alongside the pictures of his cousins and their kids.

It was hard to picture him without the mustache, the worry lines, and the weight of life on his shoulders.

You shielded your eyes from the sun, looking across the yard towards one of the horse paddocks where Chucho had Josie.

You couldn’t picture Javier as a younger man, but you could picture Josie growing up here. Christmases, birthdays, family reunions. Snapshots of life that you couldn’t relate to.

All you wanted was for Josie to have a normal childhood. A happy childhood. Two parents who loved each other, a stable home life, extended family members who cared. You wanted her to have everything you didn’t have growing up.

You never wanted her to worry.

“How are you doing, chica?” Chucho called out as he started back across the yard towards the patio. “You get that verde finished?”

“Javier’s finishing it up.” You answered, hugging your sweater around your middle as you moved to sit down in one of the chairs around the stone fire pit. “How’s Miss Josie?”

“Having the time of her little life.” Chucho bounced her in his arms and she giggled and squealed. “Give it two years and I’ll have her out there on one of my best mares.”

You laughed, holding your arms out to take her as she tried to squirm out of Chucho’s hold to get to you. You could tell she was tired — but she was trying to soldier through it.

“She’ll never want to leave then!” You kissed the top of her head as she flopped against your chest. “You’re going to need a nap before dinner.” You brushed your fingers through her curly hair as she sighed dramatically.

“Javier was a natural in the saddle,” Chucho recalled as he sank down into a chair across from you. He gestured out towards pasture. “Not even two and I had him in the saddle with me, going out to check on the fence line after a storm.”

“You could probably convince me to let her ride when she’s three.” You offered with a short laugh, rocking her in your arms.

“Deal.” He chuckled, adjusting his hat on his head as he sank back in the chair. “You looking forward to the big move?”

You shrugged, “I’m looking forward to being settled. It’ll be good to see our friends again. To get back into a rhythm.”

“Never thought I’d see Javier settled.” Chucho told you, shaking his head slowly. “But it’s a good look on him.”

“He’s a really good father.” You smiled warmly, looking towards the back door, you could just barely see Javier through the glass as he moved across the kitchen. “I know the situation isn’t ideal—“

“No.” Chucho cut you off. “Things happen for a reason. They always do. There’s no such thing as ideal or not. The two of you are good together.”

“Yeah, we are.” You agreed, kissing the top of Josie’s head again. “It’s all just very new for me.” You admitted. “The wedding was a lot.”

“Would’ve gone better if Javier had given his old man a head’s up.”

You felt your cheeks warm, “I know.”

“Everyone was real impressed with you.” Chucho told you, “Javier was worried.”

You frowned, “He was worried?”

“That they wouldn’t welcome you with open arms.”

“Oh.” You had assumed he meant that Javier has been worried that you wouldn’t fit in. But he’d been worried for you. “I really appreciated being included. I mean, I did show up unannounced.”

He waved a hand, “You know what you need?”

“A stiff drink?” You laughed.

“A joint.”

“Excuse me?”

Chucho gave you a look, “You didn’t strike me as a tight ass like Javier.”

“I’m not.” Your brows furrowed together. “Just so we’re clear — you mean a joint joint, right?”

“Is there any other kind?” He questioned as he stood up slowly. “Old age takes its toll on you and I’ve found a bit of marijuana helps take the edge off.”

“I would agree but,” You gestured to Josie. “I’m still breastfeeding her. As tempting as the offer is.” You glanced back towards the house, “Does Javi know?”

Chucho shook his head, “Let’s keep this between the two of us.”

You grinned, “Now I really do feel like part of the family.”

The back door slid open and Javier stepped out onto the patio. “The verde is finished and the blender’s washed and put back up.”

“Look at that,” Chucho clicked his tongue against his teeth. “He cleans too.”

“Funny, pops.” Javier retorted as he strolled over to where you were sitting. “Real funny.”

Josie perked up the second she heard Javier’s voice, scrambling to get out of your arms. “Da-da!”

Javier stopped dead in his tracks, looking between you and Josie. “Did she just—?”

“Can you say it again?” You questioned, smoothing out her curls as you turned her in your arms so that she was reclining back against your chest and facing Javier. “Can you say daddy?”

Javier knelt down in front of you, grinning from ear-to-ear at Josie. “Come on, princesa. You know you want to say it.”

She clapped her hands together, rocking back against your chest. “D-d-d!”

“Say daddy.” You kissed the top of her head.

“Are you going to say daddy, JoJo?” Javier questioned, tapping his finger against her nose as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “Say daddy.”

Josie let out a shrill squeal, “Dada!”

You grinned down at him, “Javi!”

“Ha ha ha!” Josie cooed, tilting her head back against your chest to look up at you. “Da da da!”

Javier gave your knee a squeeze as he met your eyes, “Baby, you’re gonna have to pinch me.” He glanced back at his father then, “You hear that pops?”

“I sure did.” Chucho smiled at both of you. “You know, I think I’m gonna take the truck out and check on some work I sent the boys to sort out this week. I’ll be back before they show up.”

“You need any help?”

Chucho shook his head, “You stay right here, Javier.” He gave you a knowing look, before heading back in the house.

“Are we sure she said daddy?” Javier questioned as he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as she babbled nonsensically.

“I am certain.” You assured him, your heart aching from just how happy you felt. The joy on Javier’s face made everything worth it. The nerves, the worry, the anxiety, the uncertainty. Those two people made it all worth it.

This was the Javier that no one else saw. The Javier that was madly in love with the tiny baby girl that the two of you had brought into the world. The Javier that was looking forward to being a stay-at-home dad.

“Now we’ve got to get you saying mommy.” Javier murmured to Josie as he bounced her in his arms.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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aerynwrites · 4 years

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Liar (Part 2) - Javier Peña x Reader

Author’s Note: Can we all please admire this wonderufl gif of one of the most beautiful men ever? thank you. okay so now that the obligatory Pedro admiration is out of the way...Here is Liar Part 2 Finally! A ton of you guys requested a second part to the first one and while i wasn’t planning on it being more than one part here we are lol. I hop you guys enjoy it!

Liar (part 1)

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: cursing, (tiny bit of violence), angst, fluff

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It had been over a week since the argument between you and Javier in your apartment, and things had not gotten any better. You had remained cordial at work, doing what you needed to do in order to complete your everyday tasks and help both Steve and Javier in the journey to take down Escobar, but you had been distant. No more were the late-night bar outings with Steve, Connie, and Javier. No more were the movie nights in Javier’s apartment. You had completely shut yourself off from everyone around you in favor of the cold seclusion of your apartment, and it killed Javier.

He noticed the way you wouldn’t even look at him anymore. And when you did, it was with the same wounded and distant expression that has been burned in Javier’s mind since that fateful night many days ago. He hated himself for what he had said, and he knew you were right about his lies. He had lied straight to your face in order to, in his eyes, protect you from himself. Javier knew you deserved better than him. Better than some worn out DEA bachelor who was afraid of commitment and attachments. Since the argument, he has had many lonely hours to think. Think about why he actually said what he did, why he said all those hurtful things to you instead of taking you into his arms like his consciousness was screaming at him to do. And the only conclusion he could seem to come to was that he was in love with you.

In love?

Javier scoffed quietly at the idea as he looked down at the same page of the report, he had been staring at for the past thirty minutes. He tried to shake away the thought that had been plaguing his every waking, and sleeping, moment for the past few days. The last time he was in love with someone he had left her on the altar, convincing himself that it was the right thing to do for her; and while that may have been true, he was terrified of hurting you anymore that he already had. With his brows furrowed at his own thoughts of you, he cast a careful glance at your desk adjacent from his, sitting empty and void of any signs of life. A frown settled itself on the man’s lips as he straightened up in his seat leaning back in the old office chair. Come to think of it, Javier hadn’t seen you come into the office yesterday either. This was an odd occurrence considering you had never even taken so much as a sick day since you started at the embassy, so the thought of you not showing up two days in a row caused a seed of worry to plant itself inside Javier’s chest.

He removed his gaze from your empty desk to look at his partner sitting across from him, concentrated on the file in front of him as he scribbled down notes erratically.

“Murphy,” he begins, catching the agent’s attention, “Do you know where (y/n) is? It’s not like her to not show up to work two days in a row,” he said worriedly.

Despite the fight you all had, Javier still cared for you. In fact, he had even been considering going to talk to you fairly soon, finally shoving down his pride so he could do what’s right and fix what he had broken. But the confused and slightly sympathetic look that crossed Steve’s face had Javier’s heart skipping a beat as the agent spoke.

“Maybe you should go check on her,” he suggests slowly, going back to writing notes.

Javier stood from his seat and looked down at his partner frustratedly, “What aren’t you telling me Murphy?” he bites.

Murphy, ever the one to stand up to Javier’s demanding aura, shifted uncharacteristically under his gaze, “She-“ he stops for a moment, and finally leans back to look into his partners eyes, “Did you seriously not know?”

Apparently, he did not.

He clutches the back of his office hair desperately, worry and frustration eating at him, “Didn’t know what? Steve, just fucking spit it out already,” he barks.

Steve lets out a sigh, “(y/n), put in for a transfer back to the states a week ago. It was approved and she’s set to fly out today,” Steve says reluctantly, “She’s probably back at her apartment packing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Javier scolds, ripping his jacket from the back of the chair before storming out of the office, Steve stumbling behind him.

“I thought you knew!” he defends, following Javier out to his car and watches as he throws the door open more forcefully then necessary, “Where are you going Pen͂a?”

Javier slides into the car and turns the ignition turning to his friend, “I’m going to fix this,” he says simply, before closing his car door and speeding towards your apartment.

------

Javier knocked at your door with three firm and fast taps, urging you to open the door as quickly as possible.

He had to talk to you.

He had never felt his heart plummet faster than the moment that Steve had told him you were leaving. It felt like his entire being folded in on itself at the thought of never seeing you again, and all because he was a stupid, arrogant jackass who couldn’t admit his own faults. He felt his heart slam against his ribcage as more time passed after his initial knocking. He didn’t hear you call out from within, and you didn’t answer the door, so he knocked again, louder this time with more urgency.

“(y/n), please open the door,” he calls, voice pleading, “I know you said you never wanted to see me here again but – “ his voice falters, “please let me in – let me explain.”

The opening of a door caught Javier’s attention and he stood a bit straighter as he saw Connie exit her and Steve’s apartment next to yours, eyes wide as she noticed Javier.

“Javier? What are you doing here?” she asks, incredulously.

Javier looks from her to your apartment door, “I was uh – I was trying to see (y/n). I just found out she requested a transfer and I didn’t want to leave things the way they were,” he admitted quietly.

Connie looks at him with a look of pity in her eyes before resting a gentle hand on his arm, “Javier…” she trails off for a moment before continuing, “(y/n)’s gone. She left for the airport half an hour ago,” she says sadly.

Javier felt his stomach turn and his eyes snapped up to meet hers and he grasped her hand desperately, “What? When does her flight leave?” he asks frantically.

Connie shakes her head, clearly caught off guard by Javier’s panicked behavior, “I-I don’t know, she seemed in a hurry, so I think it leaves soon.”

As soon as the words meet his ears Javier drops Connie’s hand, turns on his heel, and rushes from the building back to his car. He jumps in and starts the ignition once more and screeches out of the parking lot in the direction of the airport.

The drive, which should only take at least ten minutes, seems to drag on forever for Javier. It seems that he catches every red light as his blood rushes in his ears and he speeds down the roadways, desperate to reach you before you’re gone for good. After what seems like hours, he finally reaches the airport and pulls up haphazardly to the valet, tossing them his keys before sprinting into the lobby of the large building. His heart feels like it might fly from his chest at how fast it’s beating as he runs through the crowded airport, eyes glancing over the flight directory frantically until he finds yours. His heart leaps into his throat as he sees that the plane hasn’t departed yet, but it falls once more when he sees that it’s supposed to leave in ten minutes. He begins to run once more.

He navigates the large hallways twisting and turning and fighting through security until he finally reaches your gate and his eyes land on your all too familiar form, handing over your boarding ticket to the flight attendant. He rushes to you, his emotions clouding his rational judgment, and his hands slips around your wrist.

You turn around, startled at the sudden contact, and your eyes widen as they meet those of a very disheveled looking Javier, and your lips settle into a thin line as you speak, “What are you doing here?” you ask sternly.

The flight attendant hands you back your ticket, allowing you to move a few steps to the side with him, out of the flow of traffic, but still very much in the public eye.

Javier’s mouth opened and closed, his mind running blank now that he is standing in front of you. The only words he can manage to push out past his still labored breathing are, “Please don’t leave.”

You scoff ripping your hand from his grasp and taking a step back, “Why? Why should I continue to stay here where I’m clearly not wanted?” you ask, anger seeping into your words, “I want to go home Javier.”

He shakes his head, his mind more clear now but still unsure of what he could possibly say to fix the situation- change your mind and get you to stay here – with him.

“You are wanted,” he defends, voice quiet, “Steve and Connie are torn up that you left, and I-“ he paused, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Confusion began to worm its way into your mind along with all the anger and other confused emotions swirling around inside of you. Javier was sitting here at the airport trying to stop you from leaving when a week before he told you that you were nothing more than a fuck-buddy.

“Why didn’t I tell you?” you grind out, voice raising an octave higher than normal, “You fucker. you – “ you jab an accusing finger into his chest, “you did this. You told me that what we had meant nothing to you,” your voice cracked as you spoke and pulled your hand down to your side clenching and unclenching as a way to keep some form of composure, “You’re a fucking asshole Javier, and I thought I told you last time I didn’t ever want to see you again.”

While you tried to keep yourself composed on the outside, you were currently a confused and emotional mess on the inside. Javier showing up at the airport was not something you saw happening. You thought he hated you after what had happened, and you told him your true feelings. That’s why you were leaving; because you couldn’t stand the thought of the man you loved hating your guts for the duration of your time in Colombia. So, him showing up here, it was ruining everything. Your plan of a quick and quiet escape and to not tell Javier about it to avoid…this – was now forfeit as the man stood in front of you know desperately pleading for you.

Javier sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I know. I know what you said – but I had to explain myself. I can’t let you leave when things are like this,” his words are urgent as the last call for the plane rings through the intercoms and you start to turn away from him.

“Well it’s too late for apologies. I have to go.”

“I was lying!” he calls out, his words stopping you in your tracks as you barely turn to look over your shoulder, “That night, when you said I was lying – you were right. I was lying, because that’s the only thing I know how to do right. If I push the people I care about away, I can’t hurt them. I’m fucked up,” his voice is a little louder now as he approaches you and grasps your arm gently but you don’t turn around, “I’m so messed up and I thought by pushing you away and saying all those stupid fucking things that I was saving you.”

He finished his explanation and a tense silence hung in the air around you as he waited for you to respond. You stood there, unsure of what to do. Your heart was telling you to turn around and go back to your apartment with the man you love, but the other, more rational part, was telling you to leave. So, you listened to the latter and pulled your arm from his grip, “You fucked up Javier. You didn’t save me –“ you finally turned to face him a bit more, your watery gaze meeting his own, “You killed me.” And with those final words you walked down the hallway to board the plane, leaving him to stare after you.[2]

His blood felt like ice in his veins as you disappeared from sight, his heart weighing heavy in his chest as he turned around and walked slowly away from the gate. He wasn’t mad, how could he be? This situation was his own doing and as the saying goes: he made his bed, so now he has to lie in it. He has to lie in his own misery and heartbreak, in his lonely and dark apartment until they catch Escobar…and who knows how long that will take. Javier wasn’t usually an emotional man but this -this was a little too much for him to take. It felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, and he supposed it was, since you held his heart in your hands and were currently boarding a plane to take you thousands of miles away. He was so caught up in his own inner turmoil, he didn’t hear the sound of rapid footfalls approaching him from behind.

You had come back.

You were just about to board the plane, when you felt your own heart constrict. You stood there momentarily ignoring the annoyed look of the flight attendants waiting to close the plane door, and instead grasped desperately at your purse strap, the leather digging into your hand painfully. You cast a glance over your shoulder, then back to the flight crew, “I’m sorry. I won’t be boarding,” you rushed out before turning back the way you came and running out of the boarding tunnel towards the one person you truly loved.

People stared at you quizzically as you ran by them and towards the exit of the airport. You spotted Javier almost immediately, as he hadn’t gotten far from the terminal. You ran to him before finally calling out his name a few feet away.

Javier heard his name slip from your lips in an all too familiar whisper and he spun around, catching you in his arms as he did so. The force of the impact almost knocked him over, but he managed to stay standing as you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest.

“I don’t want to go, I can’t.” you whimper as you look up at him through your tear soaked lashes, “But if I stay, you have to fucking promise me you won’t do this to me again.”

Javier’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, “Never. I just –“ he stumbles over his words, “I hate who I am, and you deserve so much better than me and what I can give you,” he explains, his own emotions forming a lump in his throat, “you deserve the world and I can’t give you that.” He admits.

You shake your head and bring one of your hands to rest gently on the side of his face, thumb running over his cheek lightly, “But you can give me a home,” you say quietly, “what you did was shitty Javier, you know that and I know that but-“ you pause taking in a deep breath, “For some reason I still love you, so much, and I can’t keep ignoring it.”

Javier doesn’t speak. How can he? You pretty much just admitted that you knew what he did was terrible and awful, yet you still love him, and you were still willing to give him a second chance to do right and make up for what he had done.

Before you realize what’s happening, Javier has his hands on the sides of your face and is pulling you into a passionate kiss. Every unsaid word every sleepless night from both of you is spilt into this kiss and you bring your hands up to his shoulders to keep you grounded. He finally pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

“I love you Javi,” you whisper.

Javier smiles at the nickname he had missed hearing so much and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I love you too.”

A sharp crack fills the air as you and Javi exit the airport and he turns to face you hand cradling his reddening cheek.

“What the hell?” he exclaims, eyes wide in surprise.

You cross your arms, “That was for lying to me.”

He shrugs before rubbing his face lightly, “Okay, I deserved that.”

/////

All Pedro Stuff Tag: @fleurdemiel145 @sargesbestgirl @lustriix @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @longitud-de-onda @jellyfishpoptart @ah-callie

Permanent Tags: @lord-wolfgen @petalduck @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @stillreadingfantasy @jokersdoll

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#Javier pena x reader #javier peña #steve murphy #connie murphy #narcos x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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whattimeisitintokyo · 4 years

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Somos Familia Ch 39: It Hits the Fan

Chapter 39: It Hits the Fan

Today was the day!

Miguel's birthday!

Héctor chuckled to himself as he finished shaving and wiping off the leftover shaving cream off his face, leaving behind the little tuft of hair that was his goatee. He had often considered shaving it off completely, being too old to have such juvenile facial hair, but at this point in his life it was practically trademarked. All his official photos and even illustrations of him all had it. He was practically stuck with it.

He chuckled again, letting his mind drift over these trivial things that made him smile. Any thoughts that didn't include what this day also was. Yes, he would put items on the ofrenda for his beloved daughter, tell her how much he missed her and loved her. Even give a respectful nod to Ernesto's foto. But other than that his thoughts were only on Miguel's birthday party. All the family would be there, everyone would feast on Miguel's favorite meals, presents, games, laughter and love. If he just concentrated on that then the pain wouldn't be so bad.

He didn't sleep well last night. He never did on the days leading up to Dia de Muertos. He vaguely remembered waking up crying once last night, but he was soon lulled back to sleep by his wife's calming presence and he was fine afterwards. She didn't even say anything when he awoke the next morning, and he was thankful for that. He could pass off the dark circles under his eyes on his age, and no one besides Imelda would notice.

He stepped into his walk-in closet and pushed aside Imelda's beautiful dresses to get to his clothes. He was feeling particularly festive today and pulled out his royal purple suit jacket off the hanger. Thinking about which tie would go well with hit, he looked up and saw something gleaming in between the hanging clothes.

The golden tooth of a grinning skull.

Immediately his mood dropped as he blankly stared at the headstock of his once prized guitar. He didn't feel any pride or joy in looking at it, hadn't even played it for over nine years, but he couldn't bring himself to hate it either. Many times he had considered giving it away or, in his more depressive states, simply throw it into the dumpster where he felt it belonged.

But he never could. Because his beloved wife had given it to him on his birthday, oh so many years ago.

'Y-you… bought this for me?! I don't know what to say…'

'You don't need to say anything Héctor. Feliz Cumpleaños. Now stop saving your money for it and go buy yourself some food, tonto.'

And then she had kissed him for the first time ever. On the cheek, yes, but it had made his whole head burst into flames and his ears buzz. It was the true beginning of their relationship, and this guitar was the key. It was a precious moment in his life: a fond memory. So no, he couldn't get rid of it so easily. But it wasn't going to stay in the closet anymore either. He'd have a talk with Chente later about sending it off to Rivera de La Cruz Records to be put on display to the public if they wanted it. It would still be his, but he wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Picking up a red necktie he pushed a bunch of clothes over the guitar, concealing it again, and walked away.

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

"Facundo! Don't smear icing on your sister's dress! Anselmo! Osvaldo! Stop fighting, you're in front of company, show some respect! Ay, Dahlia hold the baby for me, would you? You're the oldest, you need to help Papá."

Miguel walked into the courtyard with Victoria to absolute mayhem, with Victoria pulling him out of the way just in time before a sticky pastry struck the wall where his head was. Nodding his thanks to his niece he looked out to see Elena and Charlie playing with five other small, very rambunctious children dressed in their best church clothes. Soiled in mud, breakfast foods and sans shoes of course, but there was an effort to get Martín and Rosita's children dressed nicely for the special occasion. Martín was standing over them, trying not to be knocked down by the running, screaming children as he also tried not to drop the baby girl in his arms. Matty was also seated at the table set outside, holding Clara and looking very smug that his own children were behaving themselves properly, and Julio was looking out at the chaos with a thousand-yard stare.

Sitting down after finally passing the baby to his eldest, Martín slumped into a chair with a groan and leaned towards Matty in exhaustion. "Remember the Nazis? How easy it was with them? They were so neat and organized. Precise."

"They blew your leg off, amigo."

"At this point in my life, I wish they blew something else off."

"Papá, Papá!" One of Martín's sons came up to him, pulling on his sleeve and smiling with gapped teeth. "Charlie wants to play horses! Can we, por favor?"

"Ay, all right." Reaching down underneath the table, Martín fumbled around a little with belts and straps before pulling off and giving the child his prosthetic leg. "Don't get it dirty and do not, I repeat, do not… stick forks in it again."

Suddenly Julio sat up with a smile and shouted. "Hey everyone! The birthday boy is here!"

All the little children stopped immediately to look at Miguel standing in the doorway, before screaming again and running into him for hugs. This time Victoria didn't help, and Miguel let out a squawk when he was bombarded with seven sticky children. "Feliz cumpleaños, Miguel!" several little voices yelled out.

"Agh!... Gr-gracias… AHH! You guys are squeezing me to hard!"

"Ah, there you are mijo." Imelda swooped in and managed to pry the little ones off her son, brushing down his hair and giving him a kiss. "Fashionably late to your own party, I see. You look very nice today."

"Gracias, Mamá." Miguel said, pulling down his sleeves to cover up the wristbands that Victoria had made for him. 'I've gotta look nice for my performance tonight.' He said to himself. It wasn't a charro suit that he would have liked to wear, like a professional mariachi, but the bolo tie and shiny new boots were a nice touch.

"Well I hope your hungry." Imelda said. "We've been cooking up a storm all morning in that cramped little kitchen. And Wanda has made a delicious surprise for you."

"Cinnamon rolls!" Wanda said happily, placing a tray of pastries absolutely dripping with icing and candied nuts on the table. "My grandmother's recipe. I really hope you'll like them, but if you're anything like your brother then I know you're going to love them Miguel."

"No, I don't love them." Matty said, already double fisting the freshly glazed rolls with hungry eyes. "I'm damn near addicted to them. I crave them all day every day. But they're considered a Sunday food, and I'm forced to go without all week! It's torture, hermanito, pure torture."

"Which reminds me, since I'm making them on a Friday that means you've had them two times this week. So, we can skip them on Sunday and have them the next week."

"What?!"

"It's actually a little funny." Wanda said as Matty started to hoard as many rolls as he could in front of him. "Rosita's had three so far, but she's been pouring lime juice all over them. Lime juice! Can you believe it? How can you eat something so sour with something so sweet is beyond me!"

The others laughed a little and started to doll out the rest of the pastries to everyone else, with only Matty noticing the way Martín's face had turned pale white and he sunk lowly in his chair. "Lime juice?… Oh, no no no no nooo…"

Matty shook his head with pity, but mostly with exasperation, and ate his cinnamon roll. "Cochino…"

Breakfast was delicious, of course, and the party continued throughout the day. There were party games, cake and ice cream and even more sugary delights that threw all the little children into an even more manic frenzy until they had finally passed out underneath the shade of the tree. The ofrenda had been set up, decorated with flowers and offerings for Imelda's parents, Leti, the late Facundo and even Matty's friend Barto, while the adults shared stories of their dearly departed despite Héctor's best efforts to divert their attention to another party game or business idea he had. Even Chente and his best friend Javier had come to whish him a happy birthday to join the festivities. They always seemed really cool to Miguel, and he also felt like they understood his frustration with the lack of music.

Miguel absently kept checking the clock every so often, time seeming to move achingly slow as it creeped towards seven. He had hidden his guitar underneath the ofrenda table, somewhere he knew his father wouldn't be near that much, so it would be ready to be picked up when he left.

But for now his concentration was on opening the last birthday present, then he could go get his real gift. "Wow, sneakers! Gracias Tío Oscar y Tío Felipe!"

"Not just any sneakers." Felipe said proudly.

"But the new Rivera Freeflyers!"

"The new line of children's shoes-"

"-that goes on the market next year."

"Designed by us of course."

"But you're the first kid to wear them!"

"Feliz cumpleaños!"

Smiling, Miguel set the shoes back in the box. "That's really cool. Thanks again. Is that the last present? Aw man, that's sad. But I guess good things can't last forever. Well, if we're done I have some stuff I-"

"Atata. Not so fast, Miguel." Héctor walked up to him, smiling widely. "Because I also have a present for you."

Sitting back down, glancing at the clock again, Miguel's smile drooped a little in uncertainty. "Okay…"

Clearing his throat theatrically, Héctor stood next to his son in the center of the room spoke loud for all to hear. "Twelve years ago today, Miguel Rivera… beloved nephew, tío, brother and son… was brought into this world. A harrowing, frightful day for the whole family, especially for his dear mother, mi diosa, but one that ultimately ended in triumph. For that tiny baby was able to grow into a healthy little boy, and who has now grown into the fine young man standing before us all today."

"And since you are on the brink of adulthood, it's high time that we start thinking about your future, Miguel. Specifically what you're going to do for a living when you grow up. Now as much as we, and pretty much the whole world, loves your Mamá's shoes I get the feeling that's not where your passions truly lie. But after having a talk with Chente yesterday, we came to the conclusion that maybe your future lies with… Rivera de la Cruz Records."

Miguel noticed the way his father flinched at saying Ernesto's name, like he always did, but that didn't matter at the moment. There was a sudden bubbling of excitement and anticipation welling up inside of him, and he happily looked over at Chente for a confirmation. The former assistant, now CEO of the biggest movie and music production company in Mexico, gave him a silent smile and thumbs up. Turning back to his father with a big smile, Héctor continued.

"So your mother and I talked about it last night, and we both decided the best opportunity for you would be-"

Miguel could see it now: His name in lights, the crowd chanting his name, strumming a guitar just like, no better, than Tío Nesto's. Singing songs that he had written himself, the crowd singing along with him because they were so good, so memorable. Immortalized for all time by doing the one thing he truly loved to do: Playing the guit-

"-to start training you in business, just like your brother! And to start with that, we're going to enroll you in business management classes!"

…..

"… What?"

There was not a sound coming from anyone else in the room. Wanda, Julio and Coco looked at each other in complete disbelief and mild disgust, Matty slowly bringing his hand over his eyes in complete exasperation. The other adults in the room cringed and suddenly became very interested in their plates of leftover food and cake, except for Vicente and Javier. Poor Chente stared at Héctor like he had just condemned the man to his death, eyes wide and mouth agape in horror, while Javier was bent nearly in half in his chair. Shoulders shaking and biting down on his clenched fist, Javier was doing everything he could to not just bust out laughing at the entire fiasco in front of him. Oblivious to everyone's obvious displeasure of his grand announcement, Héctor continued.

"There's a school nearby. In San Benito. They specialize in training children for college. Mateo, you went there, remember?"

Nodding and smiling painfully, Matty said, "Yes, Papá. I remember going… I remember willingly going-"

"Well, you did so well there that we thought Miguel would too! Now, they've got a new program where they include room and boarding, and you can do your regular schooling there."

"Which" Imelda interjected, "I have already vetoed. They still have just the same smaller classes every other weekend that you went to, Mateo. I don't want our little boy to be away from home for so long."

"Right," Héctor said. "I agree with her. You'll still go to school here, so don't worry about that. You won't miss your friends or your family. But I feel like this is a great opportunity for you."

Miguel felt like congratulating himself for how well he was hiding his displeasure from his parents. No, displeasure was too light a word for how he was feeling. He felt like his face was about to break and shatter for how long he was holding the rictus of his earlier smile, and his heart and stomach freefalling down to his boots. He felt like he was slowly dying, and yet his parents were looking at him like they were doing this for his own good. And they were proud of it too!

Maybe it was his own fault: being so secretive about who he truly was and what his interests were. His parents didn't know who he was at all and thought he would be glad that they were practically dooming him to a fate worse than death.

Swallowing painfully, almost as if he felt like he was about to cry, Miguel croaked out. "W-well… That's… a lot to take in."

"It's just an idea, mijo." Héctor said gently, as if finally sensing that his son might not be totally ready for such a radical change in his life. "And you've got plenty of time to decide. We can talk about more in the morning alone."

"It's just that that- uh…" Miguel fumbled a little with his wristbands hidden under his sleeves. "I'm not like Matty was when he was my age. I mean… I'm more like a normal kid, you know. Not a nerd like him."

"…Hey…"

"I mean I not as smart as him. I won't be any good in a school like that."

"Don't worry about that, Miguel." Imelda said softly, placing her head gently on his head and smoothing his hair. "You'll have your family here to guide you. We'll help you every step of the way. You won't be alone."

"And to help you even more, here's another present!" Héctor said. From behind his back he pulled out a small briefcase, made from leather dyed in a brilliant shade of red, and the letters M.R. embedded on the front in solid gold. Placing in the boy's hands, Héctor smiled widely and clapped his hands with pride. "Look at that. Another businessman in the family! You look so professional already! Ha ha!"

Glancing down miserably at the briefcase, as if he were handed a live grenade instead, Miguel nodded and once more looked up at his parents with that same faked, gritting smile. "Gracias Papá… Gracias Mamá…"

"Aw, feliz cumpleaños, my boy!" Héctor said as he hugged his son happily. "And don't just thank me. Thank Chente, since this was also his idea!"

"Ohhh…." Vicente moaned, trying to ignore the way Javiar was applauding loudly next him with that stupid smug grin of his. "Please don't thank me…."

"Better watch out!" Héctor jokingly said. "One day Miguelito here will take your job out from under you!"

"…I'll do that…"

As the adults carried on with their conversation, Miguel kept looking at the briefcase in hands. It really was a beautifully designed briefcase, something that Matty probably carried around all the time and would probably love having himself, but all it did was make Miguel want to cry. This wasn't what he wanted at all. This wasn't him. And the fact that his own parents didn't see that in him, couldn't see that, broke his heart.

He would have started crying then and there until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning he saw Victoria standing next to him, giving him a look of sympathy and understanding. But also of defiance. Glancing down at the briefcase in disgust, she said, "Put that thing away and go get your guitar. Wanda and Papá will distract Abuelito and everyone else. It's showtime, Tio."

With a start Miguel looked over at the clock and gasped. All his inner turmoil had made him nearly forget about the contest! And it was in twenty minutes! With Victoria giving him an encouraging smile and a slight shove Miguel took off to the ofrenda room. Ducking underneath the tablecloth he flung the accursed briefcase underneath it and grabbed his prized guitar, feeling so much better now that it was in his hands. Glancing to his late sister's foto, and then to his Tío Nesto's, Miguel gave them a watery smile.

"Wish me luck." He whispered, and then headed out the doorway.

No one noticed he, Victoria, Matty and Coco leave the party at all.

Except for one little girl with a big mouth.

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

Picking up a small, fried grasshopper from the bowl on the side table, he twisted it to and fro for his grandson to see. It was such a lovely surprise: Here he thought there wasn't many chapulines left for the season, and then all of a sudden Julio gifted him with a heaping bowl of the crunchy little things! Then Wanda had come up to him, saying that his grandchildren wanted to spend some time with their grandfather and to tell them stories. He was more than happy too, even if it was odd that he and the children were practically shoved into the kitchen and the door was slammed shut. But for now, with Clara babbling happily in his arm and with Charlie's rapt attention, he continued his story.

"So at the end of the day, there I was: Scratched up by dried alfalfa, bitten all over by every mosquito there ever was, and with a bag of caught grasshoppers slung over my shoulder. I took it to old Señor Perales and he would fry them up for the customers, and for my pay he would give me a handful of them on a stale tortilla. Sometimes that would be the only thing that I would get to eat for the whole day. But I didn't mind much, it was worth it for me. They're good, no?"

"They're salty." Charlie said as he crunched one with a grimace.

"Sí. Salty, crunchy and my favorite snack. And that was the first job I ever had at four years old. Your age, mijo! Grasshopper catcher extraordinaire."

"My friend Timmy likes to pick out earthworms from his Mommy's garden and eats them too, even with dirt on them! Is that the same thing, Grandpa?"

"No, your friend's just odd."

"Oh."

The sound of the door being opened caused the three of them to look, only to see Elena poking her head in. Héctor was immediately worried: His granddaughter looked very troubled, staring at the floor and lip trembling, trying to decide if she should come in or not. Shifting the baby in his arms to free his hand he held it out. "Elena? Is there something wrong?"

Nodding a little, she slowly edged her way in and closed the door. "My tummy hurts…"

"Aww, too much cake and ice cream, huh?" Héctor asked kindly, squeezing her hand when she took it. "I guess it also didn't help that your cousins gave you too much excitement as well. Well, if you want I can walk you home-"

"It's not that, Abuelito." Elena said softly. "My tummy hurts because I feel guilty."

"Guilty? Did you and your sister have a fight? Because if you said or did something to make her upset I'm sure she'll forgive you. That's what a family who loves each other does, mija. We always forgive each other with time."

Eyes widening, Elena looked up at her grandfather with a slight glimmer of hope. "Really? Family forgives each other for anything?. They don't… get really mad and hate them for it?"

"Of course not."

Elena smiled a little at that, looking like she felt a little better. Then her smile faded, and she shook her head. "No, no… Papá says that I should always do what my parents say…"

Blinking in confusion, Héctor nodded in agreement. "Uh, yes… Yes, children should do what their parents say. Your Papá's right."

"Buuuut…"

"…But?"

"But you're Mamá's papá…" Elena said slowly, nervously picking at her fingers and biting her lip hard in agitation. "So, she has to do whatever you say… right?"

Now he was growing concerned. Pulling his granddaughter close to him, Héctor made Elena look at him squarely in the eye. "Elena, if something is wrong with your Mamá you need to tell me, claro? Now, what's going on?"

"….Well…"

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

"Congratulations, Señor Magallanes."

"Oh you too, Mrs. Rivera."

Chuckling and clinking their mugs of coffee, Julio and Wanda sat on the old boarded up well and each took a sip of the hot brew. They watched as the Reyes children ran around the courtyard in a wild frenzy, having woken up from their sugar comas and putting an end to their parents' moment of peace and quiet, and smiled smugly to themselves. Both because they were thankful that their own children were not as wild and rambunctious, and also for a job well done.

"Nice work on getting the fried grasshoppers so late and getting so many. I'm told they're a seasonal…delicacy." Wanda grimaced at the word.

"Gracias. And that was a nice move of giving him your kids. 'Charlie wants to hear all about you when you were his age!'" Julio chuckled at that. "It really was a nice distraction."

Wanda hummed and gave a sultry smile, gazing off into the distance. "Well, Matthew has always said that I am… a master of distraction. In more ways than one"

"…Uh, right…" Taking an uncomfortable gulp from his coffee mug and coughing awkwardly, Julio changed the subject. "So when should they be back?"

"Well Miguel is the first act." Wanda said. "So it'll start at seven, he'll sing his little song, then Matthew and Coco will bring him right back. So I guess they should be back in about half an hour? Plenty of time before anyone notices they're gone. And if they ask we'll just say he went to a friend's house."

"Thirty minutes?" Julio asked, a little downhearted at the thought. "So, he won't get to stay to see if he wins?"

Wanda nodded in sympathy. "Yes, it is a shame. But honestly do you really think he would win? I mean, I know he's very good, but he'd be going up against musicians who have been playing for much longer than he's even been alive. It seems a little unlikely, right?"

"Sí, you're right… It still would be amazing if he did, though."

"Honestly I think the poor boy just wants to be heard. Can you blame him? Especially after that… gift his parents gave him. Ugh…"

"Sí. Let him have some fun for one night." Julio nodded, bring the cup back up to take a sip. "Thirty minutes. Plenty of time. Go out, perform, come back. No one will suspect a thing."

"All will be well." Wanda agreed.

The sudden slamming of a door hitting the wall startled everyone in the courtyard. All the children skidded to a halt, the adults stopped talking immediately, and all eyes turned towards a very livid Héctor Rivera.

"MIGUEL IS GOING TO PLAY THE GUITAR IN THE PLAZA?!"

Clara started to cry in fright in her grandfather's arms, but Héctor paid her no heed as he marched up Julio and Wanda. "Elena just told me that Miguel's playing in the contest! Julio, is that true?!"

Julio stared at his father-in-law, chalk white and looking like he was about to drop dead on the spot. His mouth worked itself up and down, but all that came out was choked squeaks and croaks. "Uh-uh…uh uh…ah…uh."

With a growl, Héctor turned his glare to his daughter-in-law. "Wanda, did you know anything about this?!"

Wanda, also much whiter than usual, managed to give a nervous half smile and shrugged with a weak chuckle. "Uh… No hablo es-pan-ol?..."

"Forget it!" Héctor shouted, placing the now screaming baby in her mother's arms and turning out to the exit. "You all want to go behind my back?! Fine! I'll put a stop to this myself!"

As Héctor left the courtyard in a mad dash, Julio wilted with a moan. "No no no no! This has all gone to hell. We had one job to do and we failed even that! Matty and Coco are going to kill us!"

Wanda shook her head, trying to calm down her poor baby. "No, they won't!"

"You're right. Only Coco is going to kill only me!" Julio cried. "Elena, why did you tell Abuelito?! You promised you wouldn't!"

Elena was sobbing by now. This wasn't supposed to happen: Abuelito had said that he wouldn't be angry, that he wouldn't hate Miguel for what he did. But it was all a lie! "You don't keep secrets from family, Papá! I couldn't stand lying to Abuelito!"

"What is going on here?!"

They all turned to see Imelda, Rosita, Martín and the twins coming out of the ofrenda room, confused as to why everyone was either in shock, scared or crying their eyes out. With a sigh Wanda came up to them. "Oh, Mamá Imelda, you might as well know now. Miguel was going to play the guitar at the music competition in the plaza-"

"What?!"

"- and Papá Héctor just found out. He's going after them to stop him. I've never seen him look so mad! I think he's going to do something-"

"Stupid…" Imelda finished, hitching up her skirts to run as fast as she could in her high heeled boots. "Dios mio, Héctor! Héctor come back!"

"Oh Rosita, could you take the baby?" Wanda asked as she handed Clara to Rosita. "I need to go to! Matthew might need my help! Come on Julio, Coco needs you to!"

"Wait! Coco will need my help as well!" Rosita cried out. "Martín, mi amor, hold the baby and hold down the fort. Oscar, Felipe! Let's go!"

"Wait, what?!" Martín cried out, watching helplessly as all the adults ran out of the Rivera complex, leaving him alone with nine children all under eight years old, screaming and crying with fright. Looking at Clara in one arm and his own crying daughter in the other, Martín growled in frustration. "Oh sure! Leave all the kids with the one guy who can't run away! I see how it is! This is discrimination! I am a war veteran, I deserve some respect and a break!"

"Don't worry, Tío Martín…" Elena sadly said, taking Clara away from her uncle and holding the baby close. "I'll help you with the babies…"

"Ay, gracias Elenita." Martín sighed in relief, patting her head gratefully. "You're a good kid."

Burying her face in her little cousin's blanket, Elena tried to hide as the tears came pouring out again with her sobs. She wasn't good. She didn't deserve the praise. She deserved to be punished, not Miguel. Miguel was going to be kicked out of the family. Abuelito hated him now.

It was all her fault.

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

"I knew it." Miguel moaned as he, his siblings and Victoria made their way to the plaza. Clutching his guitar for dear life, as if he was afraid it would be ripped away from him, he hung is head low while Victoria guided him by his shoulders. "I knew Papá would never even consider letting me play music, he just hates it too much. I'm gonna have to play in secret for the rest of my life."

"Yeah." Victoria sighed with a pout. "I guess I'm going to have to as well. I'll never get to dance in the likes of La Scala or the Royal Opera House. I'd even settle for dancing at a rec center at this point."

"Cheer up, both of you." Matty said. "Miguel, you know Papá doesn't hate music. He just… has some hang-ups about it that is hard for him to overcome. A lot of bad things happened to him, and he attributes it to music. You understand, sí?"

"No, I don't." Miguel said. "And that's easy for you to say. Papá sang and danced with all three of you and let you play instruments. I never had that."

"That's not true, Miguel." Coco said. "Papá used to sing to you all the time, especially when he tucked you into bed. And he played his guitar for you, don't you remember that?"

"No. I was a baby, Coco."

Coco tsked and shook her head in mock sorrow. "Well that is a shame. You should remember stuff like that. I, for one, can remember stuff quite vividly all the way from when I was about two years old. It's a gift I possess."

Breaking out of his current funk, Miguel looked up at his older sister and smirked. "Gee Coco, maybe you should be the one in the talent show instead of me."

Matty barked out a laugh and nodded. "Yeah, you could tell everyone what you had for breakfast in May of 1936."

"Or recite an old shopping list you made ten years ago." Victoria added.

Coco huffed and crossed her arms with pout. "All right, all three of you can go kiss a burro."

"Well we can't do that now, because," Matty said as they rounded the corner, "we have arrived at our destination."

As they all walked into the plaza, Miguel smiled when he saw the gazebo decked out in the familiar decorations for Dia de Muertos: garlands of cempazuchitl flowers, papel picado and, most excitingly, posters for the contest. He also saw several other musicians dressed up in charro suits and practicing on their own instruments. They had probably been practicing for much longer than he ever had and were probably better than him too. But Miguel didn't care if he won or lost the contest, he just wanted to perform in front of people. To show them all that he had what it took to be a musician. And luckily for him there were plenty of people who had come to watch.

A very… large amount of people.

Practically the whole town. Even other kids from his school were there.

Suddenly Miguel felt a nauseous curl in his belly, and his breath seemed to stick in his throat. Without realizing it he took a step backwards, softly bumping into his sister, and flinched in surprise when she knelt down to speak to him.

"Miguel?" Coco asked softly. "If you're nervous you don't have to go up there."

"Wh-what?" Miguel asked, wincing when his voice gave an unexpected squeak and trying to cough it away. "Nervous? I'm not nervous!"

"You're really pale Miguel, and you started sweating bullets in less than five seconds." Victoria pointed out. "It's actually quite impressive."

"Callate!" Miguel grumbled.

"It's alright if you've changed your mind, Miguel." Coco said and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "We can just go right back to the museum, and Papá will have never known you were here."

The very mention of his father, how much he hated music, how he would be forced to play music in secret again if he backed away now, how this might actually be his last chance to perform before he was to go to that stupid business school, steeled something inside of Miguel. Straightening up, jaw clenched tight and his guitar held up like a shield, he shook his head vigorously. "No! No way! I'm gonna play in mariachi plaza if it kills me!"

"That's the spirit!" Matty said. "And good thing too because it looks like you're on now!"

"What?!"

"They're beckoning you over! Knock 'em dead and break a leg, gordito!" With a hearty slap on the back Matty propelled his little brother towards the stage. As they all watched the boy meekly walk to the contest coordinators, Matty leaned into Coco. "He can sing, right?"

Coco nodded. "Of course! He has the voice of an angel, you're going to be blown away."

"Either that or he's going to blow his dinner all over the stage floor." Victoria said.

Miguel took his place next to the steps of the gazebo, turning back to wave at the siblings and niece, who all returned it with a thumbs up. With his back turned to them again Matty sighed wistfully. "Papá would really love this. He would be so proud. If… you know…"

"If he was like he used to be?"

"Si…" Matty nodded. "It just doesn't feel the same without him here. Miguel is so much like how our father was: Filled with a love of music, bursting with creativity. Miguel may look up to Tío Nesto, but I see Papá in him more than any of us."

"You're right." Coco sighed. "I wish Papá were here to see this too."

"SOCORRO! MATEO!"

Coco and Matty immediately felt their hearts stop, blood seize up, insides clench and air leave their lungs as they heard their full names bellowed out from behind. Turning around they saw a sight they had never seen before. Héctor Rivera, normally so jovial and mild-mannered with all he encountered, marching towards them red-faced and glaring holes into their very souls. As he got closer and closer to them, Coco whispered, "Itakeitback, Itakeitback!..."

Placing himself in front of his sister and niece like a shield, Matty leaned causally on his cane and smiled shakily. "H-hola, padre! Qué tal? I d-didn't expect to see you come to the plaza today. They're having a music contest right now so you might want to go back and-"

"Would you both care to explain to me," Héctor said as he reached them, very close to seething like a bull. "why I had to hear from Elena that my son is going to play the guitar, on a stage, in front of an audience?!"

With a loud groan Matty turned to glare at Coco. "You told la Lengua Larga about the plan?!"

"I told you it was a bad idea, Mamá."

"So this was your idea!" Héctor growled as he glared at Coco. Distantly they could hear Imelda calling out as she was making her way to the plaza herself, but they all ignored her for the moment. "You're letting your brother perform? After what nearly happened to you? What did happen to your godfather?!"

Coco glared back. "What happened to Tío Nesto was terrible, but it was an accident that could have happened anywhere! It had nothing to do with music! Why can't you see that?"

"It has everything to do with what happened to him!" Héctor shouted. "And I will not have the same thing happen to my-"

"Put your hands together for our first contestant, Miguel 'De la Cruzito' Rivera!"

As a loud smattering of applause and cheers erupted, the family turned to see Miguel taking the small stage of the gazebo. Smiling nervously and waving at the crowd, he didn't seem to notice the brewing turmoil taking place amongst the audience. Héctor gritted his teeth and was about to make his way towards his son to put an end to this nonsense, when one of the nearby bands decided to strike up some intro music for the young guitarist. After all, the son of the world's greatest songwriter, the patron of Santa Cecilia, deserved a grand entrance for his musical debut.

And they couldn't have picked a worse song.

As the trumpets blasted the upbeat version of Remember Me and the audience clapped along to the beat, Matty and Coco moaned in dread and instantly went into damage control. Coco and Victoria shouted in vain over the crowd to get the musicians to stop, but their voices were lost among the deafening cheers and song. Imelda heard the song playing from the distance, and with a curse tried to run even faster to her husband. Matty grabbed his father by the shoulders and shook him, trying to direct his attention to him. "Papá! Papá, listen to me. Listen to my voice. It's okay. It's just a song. Come with me, we'll get you out of here…"

It had been about a year since he had heard that song last. Not intentionally, of course, but when a song is that popular people are bound to either sing it aloud or try to play it themselves. One such incident occurred when he was out with Elena for a treat of ice cream, when suddenly he had heard it. A quite lovely rendition on a violin by that scarf-wearing kid with the weird facial hair whose named escaped him. But it was enough to do the trick. Several painful minutes of him hunched low to the ground, pressing the heels of his hands into his ears hard, trying to get his breathing under control. His own granddaughter, seven years old at the time, was forced to take action herself: Swatting that kid with her shoe in order to stop him from playing, then sitting with him silently and comfortingly until the panic had finally passed. They had both lost their ice creams on the ground that day, but the two had grown even closer due to the experience.

But those same feelings were rushing back just like that last time: Nothing had changed. Immediately his heart started hammering and it became hard to breathe, his insides squirmed and clenched painfully and those awful visions flashed in his mind again. As the song continued he didn't see his eldest son frantically trying to get his attention, but his youngest daughter wheezing her last breaths in his arms. Of Ernesto walking away from him to the stage, underneath the bell that would eventually turn him into nothing but a smear. And the blood, so much blood. He could smell it, practically taste it.

He was about to try to block out the sounds like he always did and then curl up in a ball, when he happened to glance at the stage again. Ernesto was there, about to perform with the bell perch precariously over his head. But no, that wasn't Ernesto standing there. It was-

"MIGUEL! NO!"

Breaking Matty's grip on his arms he made a run for the gazebo, pushing and shoving others out of the way. He didn't hear their exclaims of alarm and pain as they were roughly shoved aside or to the ground, nor the cries of his family as they begged him to wait, to come back. No, all he heard was that damned song playing loudly in his head, now a ticking timer to the point where, at the end, his boy would be no more.

Miguel didn't notice his father parting through the crowd at breakneck speed, too busy tugging on the emcee's sleeve to tell him to make those musicians stop playing the song 'That's the song I'm going to play.' But it was too late, and as the band played the last triumphant note he turned back to the crowd with an eye roll and hefted his guitar up to begin to play the song everyone had just heard.

Just in time to see his father diving straight for him.

Imelda reached her oldest children just in time to see Héctor tackle Miguel and send them both flying to the back of the gazebo. The incident was so shocking that aside from a large gasp from the crowd, it became so still and quiet. Quiet enough that everyone was able to hear the sickening crunch once the two of them landed in a crumpled heap.

A flash of terror made it's way down Imelda and her children's spines. "No…" she breathed, and then quickly made her way to the gazebo herself, the others following her.

The song was over, put panic was still surging through Héctor as he got up and immediately started checking over his boy. "Miguel! Are you all right?! Sit up, let me see!" He patted his body up and down, trying to see if there were any injuries, thankfully finding none. But the boy seemed shocked, and frantically he cupped the boys face to look in his eyes. "Did you hit your head? Look at me, mijo-"

"Papá…"

Miguel's eyes were widened with shock, but surprisingly the wind was not knocked out of him nor was he scuffed or marked in any way from the surprise tackle. The guitar in his hands, however, was not so lucky. It had taken the brunt of the assault and protected the boy from harm, but it had not survived. Three of the strings had snapped right off and were coiled in bent angles, the body was completely caved in from the center hole and up, and the neck had broken cleanly in half, now only connect by the remaining strings. His beloved guitar was now destroyed. His father had destroyed it.

"What-? Why?... What have you done?" Miguel whispered as he gripped the broken neck and tried in vain to get it to stick back into the position. "It's ruined…"

Héctor looked down at the broken guitar in his son's hands, taking in the cheap gold paint that had been sloppily painted all over it. The crude designs done in brown, and the headstock. That same mocking skull that looked so much like his own, except for the one personal detail that he had made for his older brother: The thin mustache above perfectly white grinning teeth. His worries and concerns over his son instantly vanished. He was fine. Now what came back was more comfortable, easier for him to handle: Rage.

"Where the hell did you learn to play guitar?!"

Miguel's attention snapped back to his father, and he shrunk back at the ferocious anger meekly. Before he was able to squeak out a pitiful answer, he felt eyes on him. Turning slightly he paled when he saw everyone in the crowd looking at him with morbid curiosity. The whole town had watched as his supposed debut had crumbled to ash, his most prized possession had been reduced to kindling, and his father was now bearing down on him about to start a very public fight.

It was all ruined. It was too much for him, and the poor boy broke.

With a choked-out cry of heartbreak Miguel flung what was left of his guitar away, shot up to his feet and fled from the gazebo. The crowd gave him enough room to make his getaway and he was grateful. He didn't want to be held back, didn't want to be touched by anyone. Especially his family. He heard his Papá angrily yelling at him to come back, his Mamá pleading with him to do so as well. But he couldn't even look at anyone right now.

He just ran and ran, broken sobs escaping as he gasped and panted.

He hated his birthday.

#coco #coco pixar #pixar coco #coco fanfic #Hector Rivera #miguel rivera #mama imelda #mama coco #worst #birthday #EVER

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ladyboltontoyou · 5 years

Text

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Lessons in Oral

Ask: Can you please please please do an imagine that the gang finds out your a bit innocent and inexperienced, you’ve been with people but you just have little experience, they tease you for it and you get upset and take off, Arthur follows you to comfort you and you ask him if he can teach you how to please a man 😍💦

Warning: Cursing, blowjobs, reader gets teased.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: I know the title is cheesy as fuck but what else could I name this LMFAO, hope you enjoy this though! Sorry if anyone is OOC, like Lenny, Sean, or Javier, I’m not too familiar with them.

One minute you were having a good time around the campfire with everyone, then the next they somehow (with the help of a lot of alcohol) found out you weren’t very experienced when it came to sexual relations. For some reason Sean found that hilarious, he couldn't stop laughing. Lenny didn’t believe it at all, his words exactly were ‘There’s no way a woman as beautiful as you hasn’t had millions of men’.

“That’s the thing.” Javier argued as you tried not to die from embarrassment. “She’s gorgeous, who would be able to impress her? You think she’d slum around with anyone around here?”

“Have you really only been with two men?” Karen tried to whisper but it came out much louder than she thought, causing a few other people to look at you again.

You scoffed, your cheeks hot with anxiety. “It’s none of your business, none of you.” You didn’t mean to make a scene but it sure shut everyone up.

“Come on lass, it’s not that big of a deal.” Sean said with his face still red from laughter.

You shook your head and stood up, stalking off into the woods. You could hear Lenny calling after you but you ignored him. It was bad enough they made fun of you for something so stupid, but when you stormed off it made it a lot worse. You let them know they got to you.

Footsteps sounded from behind you and you forced the lump out of your throat so you could talk. “Leave me alone Lenny, I want to be alone.”

“It’s not Lenny.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw Arthur catching up to you. “Oh, it's you.” You sniffed and looked back in front of you, continuing to walk through the woods.

“Where you off to?” He asked and slowed down once he was walking beside you.

“I don’t know.” You admitted and ran your fingers through your hair in an attempt to self-soothe. “I, I know they didn’t mean no harm. But it’s not fun being the center of attention, especially when everyone's debating your sex life.”

Arthur nodded and took his hat off to fix his hair. “I should’ve stopped ‘em, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything back there.”

You looked at him as he put his hat back on and sighed. “It’s alright. Maybe I overreacted.”

“You reacted the same as anyone would. I wouldn’t like my personal business being discussed around a fire with a bunch of drunk people. Especially Sean. Too bad Micah wasn’t there, maybe he would’ve opened his mouth and given me a reason to kill him.”

You stopped walking and turned around, crossing your arms. The camp was out of sight now, you couldn’t even hear them anymore. You glanced to Arthur and then back to the woods. “You don’t need a reason to kill him.” You muttered, causing Arthur to chuckle.

“Well, as much as I agree-”

“How many women have you been with?” You asked suddenly.

Arthur raised his brows and scratched his chin awkwardly, he was totally caught off guard by your question. “I uh… not many more than you…”

Really? You were under the impression he had more notches on his belt than hairs on your head. “You’re not saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

He shook his head and leaned against a tree, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Now, you know I don’t lie to you.”

You smiled and laughed nervously, scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah. Well.” You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him. “Would you say you’re experienced?”

“Jesus, girl. You sure you want to talk about that with me?”

“As long as you won't think of me any different.”

He laughed then, as if the idea was absurd. “(Y/N), there’s probably nothing you could do that would make me think of you differently.” He said and you smiled even wider at that. There was no one else that could give you butterflies like Arthur could. “Well, if you really want to know, then sure. I would say so.”

You nodded and chewed on your bottom lip, glancing everywhere but at him. “Okay.” The next question you had was almost impossible to say. “Okay. Promise you won’t think of me different.” He nodded, urging you to continue. “Okay… Well… don’t feel obligated to say yes. Okay?” You were saying that word a lot, it must have been your nerves. “Would you… teach me… could you teach me how to please a man?”

Arthur thought there was nothing you could say that would surprise him. But there he was, his heart suddenly racing at 100mph. “Are you serious?”

You felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. What was I thinking?” You muttered, mostly to yourself.

“No, listen. Are you sure this is something you want to do? Because, (Y/N), once we cross that line there’s no going back. No going back to being how we are now.”

“In a bad way?” You asked, a bit worried by his words. “As in, you won't be my friend anymore?”

He almost pitied you then. “Of course not- (Y/N),” He sighed and shook his head, rubbing his face. “I just don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you doin’ nothin’ that you don’t really want to do.”

“I want to, trust me. You have no idea.”

He rubbed his mouth as he thought the whole thing over. “Alright. Well, what do you want to know?”

The sudden realization of how serious the whole thing was almost knocked you on your ass. “Uhm… what do men like?”

He chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning back against the tree. “What do men like? Well, we like lots of things.” He struggled to find the words without sounding too vulgar. But it was hard to describe a blowjob without being filthy. “I guess the most popular way a woman can please a man is with her mouth and her hands.” After he spoke he mentally punched himself, was he really talking like this with you?

You nodded and fiddled with your fingers, trying to gather up the courage to ask him if you could try.

“And that, that’s a little hard to teach someone without actually doing it.”

That made it easier for you to ask your question. “Could we do it?”

He was stunned by you, once again. “You can’t be serious. Why in the world would you wanna do that?”

“Could we? Please? Unless you don’t want to. And don’t try to convince me that I’m not in my right mind. I know what I’m asking. I’m not even drunk anymore.”

“Alright, alright. I reckon there’s no harm…” Before he could finish you had stepped towards him, causing both of your hearts to speed up. He watched you carefully as you looked him over, thinking of what to do first. “Are you s-”

“Shut up, I’m sure.” You cut him off and reached for his belt. When your hands touched the leather you could feel his body heat and it made you even more nervous. You had touched Arthur plenty of times before but this felt so different. You were seeing and feeling him in an entirely new way.

You unbuckled his belt and then did the same to his pants, noticing how his breathing had changed from completely silent to softly audible. Should you slow down? You looked up to his face to see he still had his eyes on you but they looked different. His whole face had changed, he was hardly recognizable. So that’s what he looked like when he was horny.

Glancing back down you took a deep breath and sank down to your knees.

“Wait, here.” Arthur took his coat off and set it down on the forest floor in front of him. Your heart swelled at the kind gesture, every single day he proved he was the kindest man in the world.

Smiling in thanks, you tugged his pants down to his thighs. You had to try not to have a panic attack, you had never pleased a man with your mouth before so the concept was entirely foreign.

When you looked up to Arthur for guidance he almost fainted. You looked so beautiful like that, looking up at him with curious eyes with his cock in your face. He almost asked you once again if you were sure, but he bit his tongue. “Try not to use teeth, and go slow. There’s no right way to do-”

He choked when you took him into your mouth, tossing his head back to thump against the tree trunk. “Jesus, girl.” He whispered and ran his fingers through your hair. “You really never done this before?”

You didn’t respond, you were too occupied with his cock in your mouth. He was so warm, and he tasted different than you thought. He was salty, but it wasn’t unpleasant, thankfully. He did have a lot of pubic hair though so that was hard not to have all over your face.

Taking him further into your mouth you swirled your tongue around his length, experimenting with movements. He seemed to like that.

“Shit.” He breathed and fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch you. “Just like that. What you cant fit, use your hands. Move your head a little, just like you’d move your hips.” Oh, those words were sin.

You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and massaged while you continued licking him, occasionally bobbing your head up and down. Hollowing out your cheeks was something you discovered on your own, you thought the pressure might feel nice. Also, it was hard to suck when there was air in your mouth.

There was no way he could last long, not when it was his first time with you. Even when he shamefully touched himself to the thought of you he never lasted more than a few minutes. So when he came within only two minutes he wasn’t surprised.

“Stop,” He panted and tried to take his cock out of your mouth in an effort to spare you tasting cum. He didn’t go over that part with you, and many people hated the taste of it. “You won’t want to, (Y/N)-”

You shook your head and sped up your movements. You knew he was about to cum, you’d seen a man orgasm before. The taste of cum was a mystery to you so you wanted to try it, and Arthur was the only man you’d feel comfortable tasting. Anyone else would feel too disgusting.

When he came he accidentally thrust into your mouth. If he could speak he would have apologized but his orgasm was so strong he was incapable. He huffed as he came, his eyes clenched shut and his fists in your hair.

You watched his face as he came, enjoying the state you had put him in. For your first blowjob, you did amazing, something neither of you expected. And the taste was pretty bad but after you swallowed it had numbed your mouth and throat, sort of like cocaine gum.

After you were sure he was done you stood back up, quickly becoming aware of how turned on you had gotten. “Was that good?” You asked and wiped the spit from your mouth.

Arthur nodded, his breath still labored and shaky. “It was,” He struggled to speak, swallowing hard. “You were great.” He pulled his pants back up and buckled his belt, all with shaky hands. “If you had told me after you’d never done that, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“I guess it’s just another one of my weird natural talents.” You laughed awkwardly and shifted your feet in an attempt to get friction between your legs.

Arthur chuckled and tipped his head in agreement. “You wanna get back to camp now? Don’t want them thinking anything suspicious.”

You nodded and picked up his jacket, giving it a good shake before you handed it back to him. “Hey, when we get back, maybe I can teach you to please a woman.” You were mostly joking since you were sure he knew damn well how to do so. But when you looked at him you saw he was more than happy to oblige.

He had a twinkle in his eyes and one of the most wicked grins on his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan x reader smut #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead x reader #red dead redemption x reader smut #red dead redemption x reader #request #myfanfic

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