#I love el Laredo
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xavigab · 8 months ago
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Make Oliver a country kid with a southern accent, but like he knows Spanish. (He lived in el laredo so like right next to Mexico) he also went to public school with a lot of Mexicans so he picked it up when he was younger
Oliver opens his mouth and Felix is just enthralled by his accent and mannerisms. Oliver cussing out farleigh in Spanish because he can’t say it fast enough in English. (Nmms a mí me pasa muchísimo me cae gordo jajaja) he was ready to throw hands with him too
Oliver trying to get a pigeon or squirrel from campus as a pet, because he’s missing his farm animals :(
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Anyways Ollie was technically rich, he takes care of the farm and went to public schools for most of his life (maybe he was in cross country, I’ve noticed that a lot of Hispanics join it (I joined it lol) OH! and he has spa days with the cows like in TikTok)
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(I love going through Zillow and seeing all the houses I can never afford, this one cost 5,800,000 _| ̄|○)
Also this whole thing doesn’t make sense, I should’ve just made some oc’s or sum lmao
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tieronecrush · 1 year ago
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part of me, apart from me
rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)
word count: 14k....its a whole thing okay?
summary:
kindly requested from a lovely anon "You and Javi had one kid together when you were very young, maybe you broke up due to his work schedule. You reunite at their college graduation 👀"
javier & you had daughter right after he graduated college, you with a couple years left yourself. when she was 15, he got the call to head to colombia, deciding with you to pursue his career and leave the two of you in the safety of laredo. seven years later, your daughter is graduating from college and javier is back home for good after cali, forcing himself to face what he finds are his failures, and hold out hope that you still feel the same as he does.
warnings (SPOILERS): BIG self doubt, self deprecation, heavy guilt, separated relationship, co-parenting, javier being in unrequited love, chucho being a king and a great grandfather & father, strained familial relationships on mother's side, discussions of death/violence/drugs, smoking, alcohol use, mentions of food/eating, use of spanish, javi has total DAD moments, he is a DILF ofc, dirty talk, oral sex (f & m (briefly) receiving), unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, becomes established relationship, etc.
a/n: i don't think the anon who requested this realized what it would do to my brain, but i have created a whole universe for this fic. i am in love with their little family and they will live forever in my head and heart. a huge thank you to my bestie el @northernbluess for screaming about javi, this fic, giving me the title for this, and beta-reading this long ass fic for me. love you friend!!!! hope you all enjoy, and that you love them as much as i do!
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The engine of Javier’s truck cuts as he turns the ignition, the loud rumble of its mechanics quieting to reveal the sounds of birds chirping. For Texas in May, it’s a pretty mild day, sunlight shining bright against the blue sky. There’s a handful of wispy clouds above him as he opens the door and steps down from the cab, shutting it with a metallic click. He rolls his shoulders and swings his arms to loosen up, the sweat at the nape of his neck is from his nerves more than the temperature.
It’s been two years since he has seen his daughter, Liliana, in person. He’d come back from Colombia after everything that went down with the Cali cartel and the government only a mere 48 hours ago. He’s exhausted, but he made the drive from Laredo to College Station to see his princesa, the light of his life for the last twenty-two years, graduate from college. Specifically, his alma mater, Texas A&M University.
He has been counting down the days until he was back for this occasion, after repeatedly reminding everyone in the embassy that he would be out of the country. It just so happens that he doesn’t need to return to Colombia as he had originally planned.
A deep inhale and slow exhale attempt to calm the jitters that are trembling his fingers.
Fuck, he really wants a cigarette.
But Lili would kill him if he showed up smelling like burnt tobacco when he had promised a week ago he was on the Nicorette thing.
Instead, he shakes his head to himself and hooks his sunglasses in the open chest of his light blue short-sleeve button-up. Out of habit, he reaches to his lower back to feel for his pistol, his touch brushing denim.
Another inhale, slow exhale.
He can do this.
It’s you and his daughter. Two people that he loves. Two people he’s been working for.
Maybe that’s why he’s so fucking nervous.
How can you welcome him back every time he makes a visit? How can his daughter be excited to talk to him every week from across the equator? He’s been gone for years. Most of her teenage life, and nearly all of her college career. He’s only been back once since she moved to university. Once.
What a fucking asshole.
Certainly not a good father.
His boots tick against the pavement of the front path up to the dingy, weather-worn two-story house. He remembers getting photographs of Liliana in front of this house a couple of years ago, sent from you and stuffed in an envelope along with photos retelling her entire summer. That one of her standing proudly in front of this house hung on his fridge until he packed it up two days ago.
Every day he looked at it, he wished nothing more than to have been like one of her friends’ dads that helped with moving in and fixing up the house, maybe slipping her a hundred dollar bill to spend on groceries or alcohol on his way out to the car after saying goodbye.
Instead, he was stuck in Colombia under the thumb of the U.S. government and sleazy CIA agents that were controlling him like a puppet.
He’s here now, though. And he’s trying so hard to get over the tightness in his chest, to clear the lump in his throat, and to dry his sweaty palms when he gets up the creaky wooden steps and up to the front door. His middle finger presses the doorbell aggressively, taking a step back and shaking out his shoulders again.
Gaze focused on his shoes, he looked up as he heard the door unlock. A wide, genuine grin breaks out on his face when he sees Liliana in the threshold, that same smile copied and pasted onto hers, even down to the dimple on his right cheek.
“Tata (Dad)! You’re here!” she exclaims, jumping out of the door and hooking her arms around his neck. He laughs as he catches her, one arm wrapping around her waist and his other hand reaching up to hold the back of her head. He pets her long, brunette hair, squeezing her in a tight hug against his chest.
“Oh, Lili Pad. Missed you so much, mija.” He kisses the side of her head before loosening his hold on her, taking in the sight of his daughter after seeing her only through photographs for years.
“Tata, I’m graduating college tomorrow. Not little Lili Pad anymore.”
Her eye roll gives Javier’s attitude a run for its money.
Damn, she really got a lot from his gene pool.
The same deep brown eyes with hints of amber, softened and round give away their every emotion. The same mouth that finds a perfect pout, combined with those eyes he was always pushed over when she was younger. Anything she wanted, he would give to her. Even now.
She has your nose, though. Your ears. Your feminine facial structure. Your charming, warm personality.
“You’re always gonna be Lili Pad, amorcita. Always gonna be my babygirl,” he presses another kiss to her temple, unraveling her from him, “But you have grown into such a beautiful woman, Lili. You remind me of your mamá when she was your age.”
“There’s that Peña charm.”
He looks over his daughter’s shoulder and sees you leaning against the banister, arms crossed over your chest with a smirk playing at your lips. His heart rate increases to double speed, his now dry hands clamming up again as he drinks you in from head to toe.
Years away and he is still so fucking in love with you.
Another reason to curse his time in Colombia.
It was a mutual decision, to split up before he left. There was no timeline for how long he would be gone or when he could come back that first time he went down there.
And there was no way in hell he was putting the two most important people in his life in the middle of what was basically a fucking warzone.
So, that was that. Co-parents, and close friends.
And an agonizing ache every time he saw you since he left.
He grins right back at you, Lili waving him inside after her. Crossing the entryway to you, he opens his arms with a quirk of his brows.
Your smirk reaches its full stretch, shifting into a gracious smile as you drop your arms and step into his, snaking your hands around to his back. He holds you tightly, a shorter embrace than the one with Liliana but long enough for your signature scent to pull him back to being a young, dumb college student who was madly in love. A chaste kiss is pressed to your cheek before he pulls away.
“I’m pretty sure she gets that from you, amor. I don’t recall a time when you weren’t able to get what you wanted — everyone you meet thinks you’re a delight.”
“See? More charm. Laying it on a little thick, Jav,” you tease, hitting your fist against his bicep gently.
He glances at your arm when you lower it back to your side, catching the glint of the bracelet with Liliana’s initials in gold charms that is always on your wrist. He gave it to you after she was born, once she was taken home from the hospital and the two of you were standing over her crib watching her sleep. Ever since then, he’s never seen you without it.
“Alright, alright. Enough of the weird, complimentary back-and-forth you guys do. Do you wanna see the place before I move out, viejo?” Lili cuts in and Javi’s eyes leave your wrist to look at her with a smile.
“Ay, no soy viejo, princesa (Ay, I am not old, princess). Now lead the way and no more making fun of me,” he nods for her to walk ahead of him, taking a few steps and glancing back at you, “You not coming on the tour, amor?”
You shake your head and give Liliana a look that says ‘Care to explain?’. Being on the receiving end of that look many times, he knows it a bit too well coming from you.
“Mom is being amazing and helpful and wonderful like Mom always is and is packing my closet for me.” Lili cringes as she admits it to her father, Javier shaking his head and letting out a long exhale.
“Liliana, you have known you’re moving for months and you’ve waited until the day before graduation to pack? Dios, somos demasiado parecidos (God, we are too much alike),” he nods for her to continue walking as you laugh behind him, the sound traveling as you walk upstairs and bringing a faint smile to his lips as he follows his daughter.
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He hovers around Lili’s room as you pace from her closet to the cases laid out on the floor, organizing everything and folding as you walk back and forth. Your daughter is downstairs, tasked with packing up her items from the kitchen and the living room. Javi’s been given the whole tour, now dropped off to “catch up with Mom”, as Lili put it.
Across the surfaces and walls, he spies the little gifts he’s sent her over his years away: all of the birthday cards he’s hand-picked and written letters in stacked in a box on her desk, the mola depicting lilies framed and hanging on her wall, the brightly colored Wayuu mochila that he’d bought from one of the open air markets in Bogotá hanging off of the door knob to her closet.
There’s a sharp pain in his chest when he sees the small picture frames sitting on her nightstand. He sits on the edge of her bed and picks them up one by one to study them. The first is a photo of you and Lili, smiling from ear to ear. He recognizes the photo as one he took on his visit before last, the one he made before Lili went to college. The pair of you are standing in the middle of an overgrown field on the Peña ranch, sun setting in the background. Lili insisted on watching the sunset all together on Javi’s last night at home, and he snuck the camera out with the three of you.
He has a copy of the photo right next to his bed, too.
Setting the frame down delicately, he picks up the next one, this one of Lili and him alone. It’s from years ago, the wide smile on Lili’s face showing off her missing front tooth. Javi grins back at his little girl in the photo, his eyes combing over to the younger version of him, way back when he was a sheriff in Laredo. It must have been during the holidays — there’s a shiny plastic red gift bow on his chest and Lili is wearing a knit sweater with a snowman on it.
Where did all the time go?
The last photograph grows the lump in his throat and the ache in between his ribs. It’s a photo of the three of you, one from his most recent visit a couple of years ago. Dressed up for a Dean’s Award ceremony that Liliana was nominated for. She looks like the spitting image of you, and you are absolutely glowing with pride for her. You two are so beautiful. He looks exhausted, anxiety in his eyes that never seems to have left since his first year in the DEA. It was around the time when he thought he was going to be able to stay, to be around for Lili and for you. He told you what happened in Colombia that got him sent home; you understood, of course, you understood why he did it all. And he admitted it all with the faintest smile on his face, the thought of getting to settle was appealing more and more to him.
And then he got the call.
He battled with the decision.
He talked to you about it.
You said, “We’re always gonna be here, Jav. You need to go. What’s a few more years?”
Everything. A few more years was everything.
He missed so much.
“You okay, Jav?”
He looks up from the photo in his hands, eyes focusing back on the room instead of a million miles ahead. You are kneeling next to one of the suitcases, carefully placing some of your daughter’s clothes in neatly. Those eyes you’re giving him turn his brain to mush, all of the escalating thoughts dripping away.
“Yeah, yeah, all good. Reminiscing,” he nods to himself as he turns the photo for you to see before setting it back down, pulling a grin onto his face, “Do you remember when the three of us would all go out to dinner or meet up with my tíos and tías when Lili was a baby? And they would always ask us when we were getting married?”
A gentle laugh comes from you as you think back, knowing how many times you got asked the same question over and over again.
“Yes, I definitely remember that. I also remember you getting so annoyed one day that you just—”
“Lied and said that we got married at the courthouse?”
“Yes! I got such an onslaught of questions after you said that. That news, which wasn’t even news, spread like wildfire throughout your family.”
“Well, at least it got people off our backs, esposa,” he winks, grin lifting to one side to meld into a smirk.
You roll your eyes dramatically, the wide smile peeling your lips apart making Javi’s heart race faster.
“You want some help, amor? Feel like an imbécil not doing anything,” he slaps his hands on his knees as he stands from Lili’s bed, taking the handful of steps that separate you. One knee is bent to bring him down to the ground, huffing out a sigh as he gets fully onto his knees.
“Sure you’re gonna be able to get up from the floor, viejo?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you continue to put rolled clothes into the luggage. Javier rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
“I think I can handle getting up from the ground, bromista. Been jumping off of roofs and trekking through fucking jungles for seven years.” He doesn’t wait for your response, grabbing one of the unfolded shirts from next to you and attempting to fold it as neatly as you’ve done with the rest of them.
“Alright, alright. I believe you. How about I roll, you organize what I hand you into the suitcase? Sounds good?” You hold a hand out for the shirt in his hand, a small laugh as he resigns his attempt and passes the fabric over.
“Sí, jefa (Yes, boss),” a soft grin pulls one side of his mouth up, deepening the dimple on his right cheek. You look at him with your own tender smile when you hand him a rolled pair of jeans to put away, reaching your hand up to poke the little crevice in his cheek like you always do — like you always did.
The two of you work quietly for a few minutes, falling into a rhythm. Liliana makes noise from downstairs, cabinets open and closing, sounds of bubble wrap being ripped echoing throughout the house.
“How’re you doin’, Jav?”
The question strikes him, slumping his shoulders and training his gaze on the shirt in his hands as he rubs his index and thumb over the softened cotton.
It’s a simple enough question; he expected you to ask when you first saw him. In a greeting, he thought it would be easy to brush it off, tell you ‘Estoy bien’ or that he was happy to be home.
But right now, packing up his daughter’s clothes to move her out of college and back into your home — the day before his little girl’s graduation — it feels too difficult to lie.
Sitting alone here with you, the mother of his daughter, the beauty that gave him his greatest gift, the woman — the strong, commanding, warm, gentle woman that he is still so incredibly in love with — is drawing the truth out of him before he can fully catch up with what he’s admitting.
“Feeling like a real pendejo. I missed so much. Too much, amor. I’m sorry.”
“Jav. You are here now. You always show up when she needs her Tata. Even if it’s not physically, you show up for her every day. No more of that talk this weekend, do you hear me? You’re here. That’s it. Not missing anything.”
How do you always know what to say to him?
How did he ever walk away from you?
Javier nods his head, pressing his lips into a tight line as his fingers twitch for nicotine. He would kill for that slow drag of smoke filling his lungs, relaxing his racing mind and heart with a break that lasts as long as the burning paper and tobacco.
Instead, he stands on his knees, grabbing the plastic pack out of his pocket and popping out a chiclet of gum, tossing it into his mouth, and chewing furiously. The look on your face is observational, a twitch of your lips into the faintest grin calms him nearly as much as a cigarette would.
He sits back on his haunches, one of his hands reaching to touch you, faltering when your head turns down to fold the item of clothing in your hands.
“Te quiero, esposa,” his hand grazes his fingertips along the denim covering his thighs, twitching to move the hair curtaining your face, “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, Jav,” your head shakes back and forth subtly, eyes lifting from your lap and softening as you smile at him, “Love you, too.”
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“Jesús Cristo, Liliana, you have a lot of shit. I went to college with a suitcase and a duffle bag — and left four years later with just the duffle bag,” Javier shakes his head as he carries the last piece of luggage downstairs to the living room where the rest of her packed belongings are accumulating to pack up in your three cars the day after her graduation.
“God, Jav, you sound like my father. ‘I walked twelve miles to school with rocks in my backpack and in a foot of snow’,” you drop your voice to mock him, laughing with your daughter as she walks in from the kitchen and stands next to you, “Getting to be an old man, Peña.”
“Mamá is right, Tata. You’re the youngest dad out of all my friends and you sound the oldest right now,” Lili says through a wide smile, and you laugh with her now, sending Javier a brightly teasing grin.
He grumbles and rolls his eyes, waving a hand at both of you dismissively.
“Yeah, yeah. Enough from you two bromistas. Y’know, I didn’t miss you two ganging up on me — it was one thing through the phone, but in person is just too much.”
Your tongue clicks and you walk over to him, pinching his cheek as you pass by him, “Aw, Jav, it’s all love. You’re just easy to rile up, makes it fun.”
You wink at him with your back to Liliana, slipping out of the room to grab more of her boxes from the kitchen. At your touch and the minuscule flirtation, his heart rate thumps louder in his ears. His eyes follow you out of the room, snapping back when Liliana asks him a question. He shakes himself out of the trance, looking over to his daughter and stepping over to where she’s stood in front of an open box.
“Qué pasa, mija? (What’s up, my daughter?)” Javier reaches an arm up and wraps it around her shoulders, holding her against his side as he presses a kiss to her head. His eyes drop to what’s held in front of her, a chill running down his spine when he sees a photo of Escobar across the front page of the newspaper, the headline reading ‘ESCOBAR KILLED IN MEDELLÍN’.
“Do you want this copy, Tata? I kept two of them, but I think the other one is already packed away and I don’t know if I need both anymore really. Kept one to show my professors all about you,” Lili turns her head and looks up at him.
Javier shakes his head, a tight smile facing his daughter before he drops his arm from her shoulders.
“No, no thanks, mija. No need to keep the other one either. I wasn’t even there for that, amorcita. I think I was actually about to come over to Mamá’s house to see you when I got the call,” he tasks his antsy hands with sealing a cardboard box with packing tape, “May as well toss them out. Or send them to Mr. Murphy if you want them to be kept safe.”
“I don’t want to get rid of the other one. I want to keep it. Even if you weren’t there for it, you still did so much work to get to that point, Tata. I mean, you doing all of that in Colombia is what made me want to do criminal psychology,” she carefully slips the newspaper into one of the open boxes, closing it up and holding her hand out for the tape roll.
“Mi princesa, you—“
“I know, Tata. I promise I am not going to be running on rooftops or caught in the middle of shootouts with the DEA. No fighting cartels, viejo. I just want to work with profiling and behind-the-scenes stuff.” She takes the tape, closing up the box completely as Javier’s heart cinches in his chest.
He is so incredibly proud of his Lili Pad, but he can’t deny how angry he got when Liliana chose her major finally — of course, it had to be criminology. She explained she was drawn to it because of his work, but assured that she is not interested in doing the same thing he has done for years. Behind the scenes, possibly going into forensic psychology or helping to profile criminals. Office jobs, for the most part. But he couldn’t shake that anger inside for months; never been angry with his daughter, and he knew she was as headstrong as him and would achieve what she wanted. He was angry with himself, for even planting any sort of seed, even unknowingly, for Lili to get into this type of work. He knows that eventually her end of the promise might not be kept — he knows her, how easily excitable she can get with new opportunities. She’ll likely end up climbing ranks or even getting into some agency like the FBI or something.
The thought of her out there, in a tac vest or with a weapon, makes bile burn his esophagus.
“Alright, I think we’re done here for today. Better go check into the hotel and we can get ready quick, then we can swing by and pick you up for dinner, Lili.” Your voice pulls him out of his spiral, stare focusing back into the room and glancing over at you in the doorway from the kitchen.
“Sí, jefa. Sounds like a plan,” he pats the pockets of his jeans and feels for his truck keys, “You gonna be ready if we come in an hour, princesa?”
Lili rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip out, a stance all too familiar to Javier.
“Sí, Tata. Besides, I’m not the one you should be asking that to. Mom is always the one who takes longer to get ready.”
Javier laughs when you walk over to your daughter, pinching her side playfully. He shakes his head and gives Liliana a knowing look.
“Mija, I have known that fact about your mamá for longer than you’ve been alive. I’m guessing it will be an hour and a half until we’re back, but wanted to make sure you were actually ready. An hour to you women is at least an hour and fifteen to the rest of the world.”
Javier smiles with a loud laugh as both you and Lili approach him and swat his arms, pinching his sides without causing any pain whatsoever. There were protests on either side of him, his daughter and her mother annoyed with the judgments on their time management but all three of them knew he was right.
“Alright, alright, I apologize…” he surrenders from the assault with his hands up, taking deep breaths as he recovers from his laughter before continuing with a smirk, “But we all know I’m right!”
Javier makes a quick exit out of the room and through the front door before any other hits or pinches can be given to him, hearing the stifled laughter from you and Lili from inside the house.
“Yeah, you better run, Jav!” you call out as you gather your purse and fish out your car keys, saying a quick goodbye to Lili and following his path out of the house, “Now I’m gonna be ready in an hour just to prove you wrong.”
“That would only make me overjoyed. Maybe we could make our reservation in time then,” he waves goodbye to Liliana before turning to continue down the front path of her house, to his truck parked in front of your small SUV.
“You wanna follow me over there?” he asks as he unlocks the driver’s side door, watching you open yours and nod to him.
“Yeah, sounds good to me. Don’t be driving like a bat out of hell, though, Javier.”
“Hey, I can’t make any promises. Used to driving all around Colombian cities, it’s a lot different on those roads,” he jokes before making sure you get into your car, hopping into the truck, and listening to the engine turn over before he leads you both over to your accommodations for the rest of the weekend.
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“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Peña. We would normally be absolutely willing to find a solution for you, but we’re fully booked for the graduation weekend. We only have one room for you.” The front desk receptionist looks terrified of Javier at this moment, his glare that he has perfected, normally reserved for serious criminals or dirty agents, is aimed directly at the young college student working here.
When the two of you were trying to check in, they had been informed that the reservation Javier had made for the two of you, two standard rooms, had been double booked, resulting in the parties involved only getting delegated one room each. 
His jaw notched to the side, hands gripping the edge of the front counter with his arms wide and head dipping down in annoyance. He picks it up, addressing the hotel employee again.
“I made a reservation months ago. I called from fucking Colombia — I paid about forty dollars wasting twenty minutes on the phone with whoever was working that day just to get this booked—”
“Jav,” your hand finds his chest as his eyes find yours, the rapid heartbeat thumping in his chest definitely not slowing down at what was supposed to be your soothing touch, “It’s fine. We can survive with one room for two nights. It’s either taking this or sleeping on the floor at Lili’s.”
Holding your gaze, he can see the words unsaid in the look you’re giving him.
Shut up and take the room key.
And there’s no way he is continuing to argue with the kid in front of him as he squirms under your own stern stare. With a grumble, he straightens up, your hand leaving his chest and cool, conditioned air chilling the spot that was covered in your warmth. The rest of the check-in process is painless, with Javier paying for the stay and taking the room keys. He turns around to face you, handing you one of the access cards and nodding toward the elevators.
“Let me take that, amor.” He leans down and grabs both duffles from the floor, one his and one yours, following your lead over to the elevators. The two of you stand and wait for the doors to open, the familiar ding alerting them to which one will be taking them up to their floor. When the doors slide apart, a large group of people started to spill out into the lobby. You step back to avoid a collision with a man not watching where he is walking, and Javier’s hand immediately finds your lower back to steady you. It lingers as the rush of people clears out — he makes no move to take it away until he guides you into the small square space, dropping his touch to press the button for your floor.
Once the two of you make it into the room, he sets your bags down on the desk and dresser, walking over to the thermostat to turn it down for you without a second thought.
“You remember,” you observe with a grin, rifling through your bag to find your toiletries and a change of clothes for dinner.
“Course I do, always had to have the air blasting in our apartment or the house. You never could sleep without a massive blanket and your toes under my legs. Never did understand your need to be freezing, always,” he chuckles at the memories of every night with you, until the separation when he was assigned to Bogotá.
“I dunno why either, just was always the most comfortable. Felt cozier, plus it always gave an excuse to cuddle.” Your giggle sends a tingle from his ears down the back of his neck and across his shoulders, a shudder easily blamed on the intense fans of the air-con.
“Go ahead and take the first shower, esposa. I’ll wait so that you can have more time to get ready and all that,” Javier crosses the room, saddling up next to you to rummage through his own weekender bag. In his periphery, he can see you flash a smile as you gather your things in one arm, using the free hand to brush across his shoulder blades when you walk behind him.
“Very kind, Jav. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
You stand in the doorway of the bathroom and he picks his head up, turning it to look at you. Head to toe, he scans you quickly before settling on your face, shaking his head.
“Take your time, amor. We both know I can be ready in ten minutes if I need to be,” he sends you a wink and half a smirk appears when you laugh, shutting the door behind you.
He hears the water run, kicking off his boots and sitting at the edge of the bed with an extensive sigh. Rubbing his eyes of exhaustion, he’s still for a moment. Shoulders drop, limbs feeling heavy as the day catches up with him. Moving, packing, even fighting with himself has drained him over the course of the day.
He loved spending time with his Liliana again, seeing her eager to walk the stage tomorrow and collect her diploma. And being around you again, drudging up all of the feelings and desires and words that he has tamped down for the last seven years. But it all comes with reminders of how absent he was, thousands of miles away, how undeserving he is of being welcomed back into the arms of you two, how his daughter was so proud, idolized him so much that she chose to study a major that puts her in the same field of work. He deserves distance from her, a cold shoulder from you — aloofness of some sort for the choice he made.
At least that’s what he’s told himself over and over for nearly the last decade. No matter how much you or Lili continually proved those thoughts wrong, they always came back.
He glances at his watch before standing and moving toward the bag again, hearing the water shut off and moving to grab his toiletries. Taking out the leather Dopp kit jostles something else in the bag loose, flinging it out onto the floor. Bending down with a sigh to retrieve it, he’s faced with the metal badge emblazoned with the DEA seal and ‘USA’ carved into it. It must have been in the bag from his plane ride earlier this week, and it serves as a blatant reminder of what he needs to talk to you about on this trip. What he needs to tell Liliana, too.
The badge gets thrown back into the bag and he walks toward the open bathroom door, stopping short within the threshold. You’re standing at the counter, products splayed around you to do your makeup. Even after living with you for 15 years, he barely has a clue what any of it does besides lipstick and mascara. He’d spent many mornings and evenings listening to you explaining your routine, but never quite getting down all the product names. There’s a pang in his chest, felt deep in the bones of his rib cage; the sight gives him major deja vu, nostalgia wavering over him. Even his subconscious longs for a time when you were his.
A humorous smile reflects back at him with your eyes glued to his in the mirror. Your fingers tap a rogue-colored product across your cheeks, giving you a bit of a brighter, subtly flushed look.
“Sorry, Jav, promise I’ll be out of here in like five minutes. I am trying to be quick.”
“Cálmate, amor. No hay prisa.There’s no rush, really…” he clears his throat, setting his toiletry bag down on an open space at the counter. He leans one hip against it, body facing you and studying the motions of painting your face while his mind works up the courage to bring up the pressing conversation.
“I, um, I actually have to tell you something.” His eyes cast down to the side, the grout of the tiles suddenly interested him.
“What is, Jav? You can tell me anything, you know that.” The compact in your hand is forgotten, clicked closed, and set down next to you as you mirror his stance. One hip against the counter, facing him.
“I know. I know. There’s just—It’s kind of a big thing and I wanted to tell you as soon as it all happened but I didn’t know how things would exactly shake out…”
“Javier. Take a breath,” you instruct him, hand against his chest with purposeful pressure, taking a deep inhale along with him and letting it out slowly. You don’t remove your hand, and he’s grateful for the gesture.
“I retired from the DEA two days ago. The morning before I left to come home. So, uh, I’m back at the ranch with Pop and I’ll be here now.” A mess of emotion comes out of his voice — fear, anxiety, relief, disappointment. Painfully, he drags his eyes up to your face, seeing your eyes wide with surprise and your brows relaxing from shooting up at the news. It’s an unreadable, unfamiliar expression; he watches as it all morphs behind your eyes before sympathy washes over every feature of yours, tender tone speaking up in the tiny bathroom.
“What happened?”
Everything was spilling out after that — information that was surely spreading across the US over the last 48 hours, not that he paid any attention to the news right now. Ambassador Crosby told him that he had won, that the Cali Godfathers would be locked up, at least for the foreseeable future. How dirty he felt when Crosby said the words, “You played the system like a goddamn fiddle…” The ledger proving the Colombian president’s campaign donations from the Cali cartel in exchange for immunity, the knowledge that the US government allowed all of it to occur, how he had spoken about it all to the reporter from El Tiempo.
“Javier, Jav, oh—I’m so proud of you.” The air is knocked him his lungs when the sound of those words reaches his ears, the next second being wrapped up in your tight embrace. It takes a moment to register your hug before he relaxes his weight against you, tension melting as you speak to him right next to his ear, “You told the truth. You helped every single Colombian citizen know what their government was doing to them. Just, holy shit, Javi. That’s fucking badass. I’m so, so proud of you, honey.”
Kindness, understanding, and comfort ooze around him and break down the stoicism that he’s been masked with for the last two days, tears welling in his eyes and spilling a few over that he quickly wipes away.
How can you always seem to find endless compassion for him? He’s just told you he quit his job with no real backup plan and all you said was how proud of him you are.
You’re a really good friend.
A great friend, actually.
Fuck, he is so in love with you still it hurts.
“Thank you…I don’t deserve your pride though, I did so many bad things,” his voice is hoarse on the last word, tightening his arms around you to quell his emotion.
“None of that, Jav. You uncovered a whole fucking…political scandal. Told people what their governments were doing. That’s honest; it’s ethical and respectable. You did the right thing, Jav.”
The last few words grow the lump in his throat, a slow nod against the side of your head. His lips brush your ear, confiding as if it is something he hasn’t said many times before, “Te quiero, amor.”
The smile is evident in your voice despite the fact that the hug keeps your face from his sight, and the saccharine sweetness of your voice sends his heart racing again, “Love you too, honey.”
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At dinner, once there’d been a few drinks and some food served, Javier told Liliana the news he broke to you in your hotel bathroom. Albeit, it was an abridged version, details of his mistakes and pains of guilt left out for his precious daughter’s sake. She was eager to get out into the world and make a difference, and he had all the faith that she could, unlike him. He didn’t want his story to taint her view of what she was going to be able to achieve with her sheer determination.
He had that at one point. Probably lost it sometime in the last few years, slowly and then all at once when those tapes were found.
Liliana was understanding of her father resigning, chalking it up to his years down there catching up with him and teasing him for being an old man now. He took it gracefully, laughing along with the two of you and riffing on his own, with self-effacing jokes. As the conversation wrapped up, questions from Lili were answered by him — he was home, for good, living with Chucho and helping run the ranch. He would absolutely be around to help her get ready for her first day at work and help her move into her new apartment in San Antonio. And yes, he would be delighted to come over for dinner once or twice a week to spend some time with her, and you. Liliana had formulated the idea herself, earning a nod of approval from you and a warm invitation seconded.
After he accepted, Liliana changed the subject to rant about whoever the university had chosen for the commencement speech and how random of a choice it was. He listened intently, always hanging on every word from his Lili Pad, but he couldn’t help but be distracted by your hand coming to the place on his thigh closest to his knee, resting there for a moment before giving him a supportive squeeze. Nothing was spoken about the gesture, no looks were exchanged when your hand stayed there until the food came.
Sitting in the booth, observing and listening to his girls bounce back and forth in conversation, he finds the first moment of resounding comfort that he’s felt in seven years.
The last conversation he had with Spencer just days ago after the recent trial in D.C. rings in his mind, the two men standing at the displayed photos of Special Agents from the DEA.
He had asked Javier, “What else is a guy like you gonna do?”
At the time, Javier wasn’t too sure.
But now, with two of his favorite smiles beaming, one identical to his own, and the chorus of laughter that soundtracks his life, and his heart racing, the heart that bleeds for his family sitting here with him, he knows what he’s gonna do.
Be a father.
Be a partner.
Be a friend, a son, a lover, a teacher, a student, a listener, a provider, a protector.
Be everything he hasn’t been for nearly a decade.
He is going to be there for you two. No matter what.
The two of you are back in the hotel room, Liliana dropped off safely at her home and promptly reminded of the schedule for tomorrow. Javier threw her a, “Don’t be too hungover,” that you rolled your eyes at, the faintest of smiles on your face, knowing exactly how Javier was at his own graduation. You, unknowingly pregnant with Lili at the time, were feeling sick and extremely nervous to be seeing his parents the next day, so there was no drinking for you that night. The next morning you were rubbing his back as he threw up before dragging him into the shower and then dressing him like a doll.
He remembers the only thing he was thinking that morning was how much he loved you, how much he was going to miss you after moving home to Laredo to become a sheriff while you were finishing school the next year.
Life seemed so simple back then; only had to worry about visiting his girlfriend at the weekends, showing up for work on time, and taking care of his parents.
A few weeks later, you told him you were pregnant.
God, how fast was time moving? He feels like that was merely last year.
“Bathroom’s all yours, Jav.”
He looks up from his duffel to see you walking out in your pajamas, a smirk crossing his face at the faded Texas A&M shirt he recognized from his own closet from years before. With a nod to you, he unbuttons his shirt halfway before talking to you over his shoulder.
“I can take the floor, amor. You take the bed.”
A loud laugh from behind turns him around, and you look at him like he’s got about four heads.
“Javier Luis, you’re not going to be able to get up in the morning if you sleep on the floor, viejo. If it’s weird for you to sleep in the bed with me, I’ll be the one to take the floor.”
“No, you’re not. And it’s not weird for me, I just didn’t know if you would be comfortable with it.”
“Don’t know if you forgot, but we have slept in the same bed together before, Jav. It’s kind of how we have a daughter, you dork,” you snort and climb onto the plush mattress, slipping under the duvet and leaning up against the pillows.
“Hey, I was trying to be a gentleman, no need for the name-calling.”
“You are always a gentleman, hon, no need to try. Plus I have to call you names, who else will keep you humble?”
“Our daughter. That’s who. I think she’s worse than you with the jokes,” he laughs.
Your smile widens, laughing along with him and shrugging, “I wonder where she gets that from.”
A wink is sent his way, stirring his stomach before he clears his throat and nods to the bathroom, “Gonna get ready for bed, you all done in there?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go for it,” you wave toward the bathroom, grabbing your book from the nightstand.
Javier makes quick work of brushing his teeth and the rest of his night routine, avoiding his tired reflection before shutting the lights out and going back into the bedroom. Book still in your hand, he stands in his jeans again, rubbing the back of his neck. Without looking up you pat the spot next to you.
“I know you sleep in your boxers, just get in the damn bed.”
Ever since you became a mom, your power of reading his mind has gotten way too good.
Well, maybe it isn’t perfect cause if you could read his mind, you probably wouldn’t have suggested sharing a bed again with the amount of time he spends thinking about you.
“Sometimes it makes me mad how often you know what I’m going to say,” he grumbles and shucks off his jeans leaving them at the side of the bed and climbing under the covers. He stays comfortably at the side of the bed, sighing deeply as he closes his eyes. 
“Comes with experience.”
“Why can’t I do it for you then?” He opens his eyes and turns onto his side to look at you, “I’ve known you just as long as you’ve known me.”
The book in your hands is closed, and laid in your lap, looking down at Javier and shrugging, “You have your own way of it. I might know what you’re going to say, but you always anticipate everyone’s needs and you’re always one step ahead of me. I mean, you always see like four steps ahead. You saved Lili many broken bones at the playground growing up and you always used to be able to cheer me up and fix whatever was making me sad or angry before I really even knew what it was myself.”
A grin slowly pulls the corners of your lips apart, one of your hands reaching over to tap the top of his head. 
“Well, I quickly learned the signs of your hangriness. That was most often the reason you were upset,” he chuckles, one side of his mouth ticking up as he relaxes further into the bed.
Comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you read your book for a few more minutes, Javier lying next to you and trying, half-assed, to fall asleep. He really was just sneaking glances at you every time he adjusted positions, admiring the concentrated look on your face, engrossed in the story.
At one point, the book was shut for the night and set on the nightstand, the lamp clicked off and you relaxed back into bed. You turned on your side to face him, voice whisper quiet, “You asleep, Jav?”
He hums lowly, vibrations absorbed by the mattress before his eyes peel open and adjust to the darkness.
“Not yet. Qué pasa, amor?”
“Did you quit smoking?”
“Uh, I guess so, yeah. Why are you asking that now?”
“Just curious. I didn’t see you dip outside to smoke at all today and you got a non-smoking room, too. Very un-Javier.”
“Oh, is that all I am to you, esposa? A smoker?” He has a lilt of teasing in his voice, raising his eyebrows as you laugh faintly.
“Shut up, I didn’t say that.” There’s a gentle shove to his shoulder before your hands are back by you, tucked under your chin as you curl up again.
“I was going to congratulate you on quitting, but now I’m not sure if I want to, meanie.”
“You’re the one randomly questioning me about my habits! Meanie.”
“I am not a meanie, I had no bad intentions!”
“Sure, and what would you have said if I told you I didn’t quit?”
Javier gives you a satisfied smirk when you’re silent, shaking his head to himself.
“Knew it,” he rolls onto his back, hand resting on his stomach and turning his head to the side, “I quit ‘cause Lili called me before I came home and asked me to. She’s asked for a while, but I kept putting it off with the stress of work and everything. Thought now’s the time after I resigned.”
In the darkness, he suddenly feels your hand on his bicep closest to you, rubbing up and down slowly.
“You’re a good dad, Jav. The best. Glad you’re the one I got to have a kid with.”
If he says anything now, it will come out incoherent from the lump sitting in his throat. Instead, he hums in response, nothing else spoken until you’ve fallen asleep.
“I’m glad it was me, too.”
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It is hot as fuck.
He’s trying so hard not to sweat his ass off while in the cattle of people funneling into the arena at this moment, attempting to keep his light beige button-up dry. He was going to wear his normal uniform of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt when he heard the weather report on the TV this morning, but your face when you saw him pull out navy slacks and his long-sleeved shirt that he packed, was too excitable and adorable to not wear anything else — “We’ll be matching! Our pictures will be so cute with Lili in her white dress.” Standing in your floral, mid-length navy dress, who was he to deny you those coordinated photos? 
Things had been much more…familiar since last night and this morning. It was the back and forth that was effortless, the fall into a perfectly choreographed routine — him anticipating your moves and you knowing what he was thinking before he could even ask a question. The close quarters of the shared room suddenly felt much too large to Javier; he was desperate for too small of space so he could stay close to you, but with 15 years of experience living together, and even longer dating, you moved too in sync with each other to collide.
He was close to you this morning, though, waking up at the sound of the alarm clock next to his side of the bed; his arm moved to shut it off, coasting along your hip and thigh before reaching behind him to stop the noise. A grumble from you pulled him back, positioning himself again on his side and adjusting the arm that ended up underneath your head, his chest enveloping your back when his other arm slung around your waist. If he closed his eyes, he could swear it was any other morning from before Colombia, stretching all the way back to his bed in his shitty college apartment that you tolerated spending nights in.
There isn’t a thing in this world he wouldn’t give to be able to have this wake up every day from now on.
He knows he needs to talk to you, to tell you all that he is feeling, but he can’t bring himself to do it now. Not before his daughter’s college graduation when the two of you are getting along like old friends. The peace shouldn’t be disrupted by you potentially rejecting him.
Which has brought him standing behind you in the crowd of parents and families, a hand on your lower back to keep a tab on you as everyone filters in through the doors. He keeps his eyes scanning out of habit, searching for a danger that surely isn’t there, while you chat away with Chucho walking directly next to you.
His attention is elsewhere, anxiety creeping into his bones at the masses gathering here, impossible to keep tabs on everyone. The three most important people to him are in this building, and he has no means to protect them if something happened—
No. Enough. This isn’t Colombia. There are no sicarios here.
It’s supposed to be an enjoyable day.
The thoughts circle in his mind as a mantra while the three of you find seats, Javier tailing with you in the middle of him and his father. You sit at the end of one row, holding the same order when you finally take your seats.
Smoothing your skirt, Javier watches as you turn to Chucho, giving him an update about something that was recently repaired in the house.
“Wait, you had to get a new water heater? Why didn’t you tell me you needed one?” he interjects with an edge, brow furrowing as he grills you.
“Jav, it was fine, Pops helped me call around for quotes and we found a good deal. It was solved in like two days. It didn’t seem like it was something I needed to make a long-distance phone call for,” you sigh defeatedly, leaning back and looking down at your nails, fidgeting with your fingers at his harshness.
Javier rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath, “I should have known. Could’ve helped with it…Eres tan terca. Nunca pides ayuda, incluso si la necesitas. Terca. (You are so stubborn. You never ask for help, even if you need it. Stubborn.)”
Chucho stretches an arm behind your back, hitting his shoulders to sit up and addressing him with a stern tone.
“Mijo, no te pongas tan quisquilloso. Ella no quería preocuparte todo el camino allí abajo. Disculpas. (Son, don't be so oversensitive. She didn't want to worry you all the way down there. Apologize.)”
His jaw ticks to the side, sitting up straight, and shaking his head. With a sigh, he turns to you, leaning closer to speak without his father overhearing.
“I’m sorry, amor. I didn’t mean to be rude; I get frustrated not being around to help you with stuff like that. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. ‘M glad Pop was there to help if I couldn’t.”
Your hand rests on his thigh, patting lovingly as you respond at the same level as him, “Next time, I’ll call you first, Jav. And then you can be the one to call Chucho for actual help.”
A smirk grows at your jest, and he falls back into his seat with a scoff.
“God, you are ruthless. Always with the jokes, esposa. Don’t know if I should be sticking around if it’ll be like this,” he chuckles, stretching an arm behind you and resting it on the back of your chair. 
“Yeah, yeah. We both know you’re gonna be around a lot more now.” His head snaps to the side to see you looking ahead with the faintest of smiles, biting back a much wider one as you lean back into his arm.
After a processional to Pomp and Circumstance, all three of you waving madly to Liliana when she spotted you in the crowd, the ceremony proceeds with little fanfare. Speeches are made, congratulations extended to all of the students from various faculty members and the special guest speaker. When it finally came time for conferring of degrees, Javier awaits the long line of A though O names. The three of you stand, watching the handful of students ahead of Lili cross the stage.
The dean of her college stands at the microphone, saying with a rehearsed smile, “Liliana Raquel Peña, Summa Cum Laude.”
At the announcement of her name and honors, the three of you erupt in cheers for the young woman crossing the stage. Javier whistles with his fingers, holding out the sound as long as he can before clapping his hands together wildly. Once Lili is descending the stairs and back to her seat, you all wave to her again as she beams up at you and shows off her diploma folder.
The moment he’s seated again, he turns his head to the side, seeing your faint tears streaking your face. On instinct, he reaches for your hand before he can second guess it and laces your fingers together with a gentle squeeze. A pitiful laugh slips out from you when you look back at him, a blubbering smile parting your lips.
Javier leans closer to you, centimeters from your ear to confide, “I think you did an amazing job raising our girl, amor. Thank you.”
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In the back room of a local restaurant, the Peña extended family mills about, filling the room with sound from the music over the speakers and everyone chatting and catching up with each other — especially congratulating the guest of honor.
Aunts and uncles and cousins that were available have all flocked together to celebrate Liliana, and despite the overwhelming urge to Irish exit this party because of the constant comments and questions about Colombia, Javier is staying until you’re ready to leave. Which undoubtedly will be until the end of your reservation.
He sits at one of the tables pushed to the side of the room, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and crossing his limbs over his chest as he reclines in the wooden chair. Buttons of his shirt have been undone post-photos with the grad, the air conditioning cooling his sun-baked skin. His fingers can still feel the phantom of your linen dress, his hand affixed to your lower back in all of the photos taken.
Easily, with a quick scan of the room, he finds you talking to his mamá’s sister, Tia Rose. You’re smiling brightly, the crinkles at your eyes showing off your joy as his aunt surely is congratulating you or complimenting you on how you raised your daughter.
He really meant what he said at the ceremony. There is no way he could have done what you managed if you were the one to have left for work. You were a fucking hero to him, not himself. He’s been hearing it over and over every time he returns home — “You’re a hero, Javier.”
It’s complete bullshit.
His results were rigged, the system played him as much as he supposedly played it.
When he thinks about being a hero, he doesn’t think about anything close to what he’s done. He thinks about sacrifice, compassion, strength — you have it all. You’ve saved him from himself time and time again, and you’ve done it all while being a working mom and dealing with your partner, your co-parent, being thousands of miles away for years.
“Ay, mijo, estás tu cabeza en las nubes otra vez? (Son, is your head in the clouds again?)” Javier looks up to his right at the sound of his father’s voice, standing to offer him help into the chair next to him but waved off with a grumble from Chucho.
“Is it that easy to tell, Pop?” he asks, a half-hearted smile on his face as he retakes his seat.
“Eh, to me, yes. Probably to your girls, too, but I think anyone else would think you’re doing your sulky, pendejo act.”
“Pendejo act? Don’t think it’s an act at this point, Pop. Been feeling like one more and more.”
“Sí, y por qué es eso? (Yeah, and why is that?)”
“Estoy ausente (I’m absent.)”
“Dios, Javier…” his father sighs and shakes his head, turning his head to look at his son, “You are not absent. Quit telling yourself that, or you really are going to be. You’re home now, so be home.”
“It is a blessing to have Liliana at home for this summer, spend as much time as you can with her…And you know how I feel about mi nuera (my daughter-in-law).”
Javier sighs, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees and find you in the crowd again. As if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn toward him and give him a tender smile that quells his near constant nervous energy.
God, it’s unfair how beautiful you are.
And how kind, and forgiving, too.
This conversation is making him want a cigarette. Really bad.
Instead, he pulls the plastic packet out of his pocket, popping out another chiclet of gum and tossing it in his mouth.
He prepares for a lecture from his father; Chucho seems to know a lot more about you these days than Javier. Every week since he left for Colombia, you’ve gone over to Chucho’s house for dinner at least once. With Liliana away at school, you still went. It filled Javier’s heart with a syrupy, oozing warmth whenever he thought about the relationship you have with his father. How you 're always going to be family, a daughter to him, after your parents cut you off those twenty-something years ago.
“She’s still coming over every week, y’know. Didn’t seem to be doing too great until about two weeks ago. Came over after she received a phone call. Was all excited and basically bouncing off the walls. I asked her why, and she said she got some exciting news. You know what it was?”
“Qué?”
“You coming home. I think you called to confirm your flights with her, and she was just so excited, mijo. Cooked your favorite for dinner that night—“
“Pollo asado?”
“Sí, con mole.”
“Mierda, estoy celoso. (Shit, I’m jealous.)”
Chucho laughs from his belly, shaking a bit in the seat as he reaches up and adjusts his cowboy hat.
“It was delicious, as always,” Javier hums in acknowledgement before his father continues, “But I’m not telling you all of that just to tell you what I had for dinner. I’m telling you cause I need you to get your head out of your ass and talk to her. Anyone with eyes can see how in love with her you still are. I wanted you to know that there’s something there for her, too. Hazla mi nuera de verdad. (Make her my daughter-in-law for real.)”
“I’ll talk to her, Pop. Don’t need a wingman, so please don’t say anything to her. Please.”
Chucho stands and shrugs, nonchalantly closing with, “If you don’t do it soon, I’m taking matters into my own hands and telling her myself how lovesick you are. I will not make any promise I cannot keep, so you better keep that one if you don’t want me involved, mijo.”
Javier stays put as his father filters into the party-goers, shaking his head as he smiles to himself.
Maybe he does still have a chance.
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The end of the night was fairly uneventful, everyone saying their goodbyes and final congratulations to Liliana. You insisted on helping to set the room up as you had all found it, correcting the tables and chairs back to their usual positions. When you were about to start taking dishes back to the kitchen, Lili rolled her eyes and walked out to the front of the restaurant while Javi grabbed you by your hips from behind and physically directed you out of the room.
“Jav, I feel bad, we made a mess! Let me help!”
“Esposa, you are wonderful and so sweet, I’m sure they appreciate your help. But this is a restaurant, cariño, and you don’t get paid to work here so I don’t think they’re gonna want to be liable for you,” he slides his hands up and down a few inches of your sides, dragging the fabric of your dress up and letting it fall back when he takes his hands off of your sides, placing one on your back.
Javier helps you into the cab of his truck, you taking the middle of the bench and Lili following into the passenger side to be able to get out easier. He drives over to Lili’s house, dropping her off with both of you giving massive hugs and final congrats for the day.
It was a quiet car ride to the hotel, but you ended up back in the middle seat closest to Javier, leaning your head on his shoulder.
Walking into the building, he bit the inside of his cheek as he brushed your hand with his, no recoil from his touch giving him the confidence to take your hand completely in his. Fingers intertwined as you both got in the elevator, tender, unspoken words in your eyes.
Now, Javier sits at the edge of the bed, a short plastic cup in his hand filled with half a mini bottle of champagne. There’s a matching cup in your hand, standing in front of him as he looks up at you with worshiping eyes.
“Cheers, Jav. Good on us for getting our kid through college,” you say with a smile, the sound of plastic crinkling in your hands following your little toast. Each of you takes a sip of the drink, Javier leaning around you to set his down on the desk. His hands move to hover at your waist, your permission granted with a small step to stand between his opened legs.
Javier’s calloused palms catch on your dress again, inching the fabric up as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. He looks up at you while you return the stare down at him, your free hand finding the curls at the nape of his neck.
“Thank you, amor. For taking on so much more responsibility and shouldering the weight of raising Lili Pad in her teens, and getting her into a great school, and supporting her throughout these last four years when I couldn’t—
“Jav, it was both of us.”
“No, please let me give you the credit you deserve, esposa. You did it all without ever being angry with me, and you always supported me, too. And every time I’ve come back for a visit, you make it seem like I never left with how welcome you make me feel.”
“You’re always a part of our family, Jav. Always.”
He nods, feeling his chest tighten at your words, gripping you tighter as if you’re going to slip away, as if he’ll wake up and this whole trip will have been a dream, as if he will be stuck in Colombia, or forced to go back to the DEA and work in Mexico.
“Thank you, really, thank you for always making me feel a part of it all from so far away. All the photos, all the letters, the birthday cards, and care packages…You are a great mother, and an even better woman. So much better as a person than I ever could be, and I am so lucky that you chose me to have a kid with. Lili is incredible because she’s part of you. Thank you, amor, you have given me a life I don’t think I deserve.”
His head drops, tugging you closer to rest his forehead against your stomach. Silence blankets the room, your fingers running through his hair soothingly. After a moment, you take his chin between your index and thumb, turning his head up to look at you again.
Javier wants so badly to be able to read your mind right in that second, the look in your eyes puzzling him. As he opens his mouth to say something, anything, to fill the air, you’re folding forward and catching his lips in a kiss. It’s light, too faint for his needs, and you’re pulling away much too quickly. His spine elongates, chasing your mouth before you can get too far and locking you in a breathless exchange.
His hands paw at your sides, a desperate attempt being made to pull you as close as possible while also running his hands along your curves. In the surprise of it all, getting lost in his lips, you drop the cup in your hand. Champagne splashes onto your feet, ignored as Javier lifts your mid-length dress to your hips, climbing back on the bed and pulling you over him without breaking your kiss.
Your knees cage his thighs in, settling on his lap as he slots his lips around your bottom one, tracing along it with his tongue. Parting with a gasp, your mouth opens to let him in, melding your tongues together. A whimper escapes from you when he tugs you further onto his lap, feeling his bulge in his slacks press against your core.
Javier pulls away from your lips, dragging his nose along your cheek and leaving a trail of wet, open mouth kisses along your jaw. At the spot on your neck close to your ear, he sucks a mark, smirking against your skin when your back arches and squeezes your chest against his.
“Fuck, Jav…” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair.
He hums against your skin, pulling away and kissing under your chin.
“You’re so beautiful, amor. I missed you so fucking much. Thought about you all the time.”
“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice is  shaky when Javi drops his hands to your hips, starting to drag them back and forth against his cock straining against his zipper. 
“Mm, thought about how good you smell all the time, how sweet you taste…how much I miss having you in my bed every night. Being able to have you when I need you,” a groan slips from his mouth at your moan, moving your hips faster the more he talks, “I thought about how fucking stupid I was to leave someone like you behind. Mi vida, la luz de mi vida (My life, the light of my life)…felt like I left half of my soul when I went away.”
From above, you lean down to catch him in a passionate kiss, breathy exhales and muffled moans exchanged while your fingers work as the buttons on his shirt. Javier leans forward, shrugging off the materials before his arms are around you again, snaking around your back to grip your ass.
“Jav, I missed you so much. Never felt the same, there was always something missing…I always needed you. I always need you.”
“Mi amor, lo siento (My love, I’m sorry). I’m here now. Never leaving again.” His hands roam to your sides, finding the zipper of your dress on his left and pulling it down. He bunches the skirt of it in his hands and slowly takes it off over your head; he’s faced with you sitting in his lap, no bra and only panties on.
As if magnetic, his hands fly right back to your sides, skimming up until his thumbs lay under your breasts, fingers splayed along your rib cage.
“You’re so beautiful, mi amor, so fucking beautiful. Can I make you feel good, baby?”
“Please, Jav, need you so bad.”
“Oh, baby, mi esposa, I’ve got you. Get on your back, cariño.”
Javier watches as you move off of him and fall back onto the bed, the plush duvet sinking underneath you and pillowing out at your sides.
An angel in the clouds.
No more time is wasted as he tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor and booting your legs over his shoulder to open you up.
“Wait, Jav, here.” You twist to the side and stretch to reach for one of the pillows, giving it to him with a thoughtful smile.
“For your knees, viejo. Not a twenty year old athlete anymore, hon.”
Javier rolls his eyes and moves to kneel on the pillow, already feeling better in his joints from the cushion. He wraps his arms around your thighs and nips close to your panties, rolling out a groan.
“Sometimes, I hate when you’re right.”
“That’s ‘cause you always have to be right, Peña. It’s always been th—“ you trail off into a moan when his fingers prod through your wetness, one hand hooking your underwear to the side.
“I don’t always have to be right, esposa. You know you’re the boss out of the two of us,” he winks before he tugs your panties off of your legs, settling back between your legs.
You nod, sitting up and leaning your weight on one arm to look down at him.
“Mhm, glad y’know your place still, Jav,” you tease as your other hand pushes his hair away from his forehead, a smirk mirrored onto his face, “Make me come, mi esposo.”
You can see his eyes darken, breaths shallowing. Feather light kisses scatter across your inner thighs until he reaches your core, pursing his lips and blowing cool air against your wetness.
“Fuck, cariño, guess you did really miss me. So fucking wet. All for me?”
“Javi,” you whine, scooting your hips closer to him, “Please, need you.”
“I know, baby, I know. I can see how much you need me.” He licks one long stripe from your tightest hole to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. “You want me to play with your sweet pussy, mi amor? Make you feel so good?”
“Please, please, Jav.”
He soothes you with circles on your lower stomach, nodding as he lays his head on your thigh, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”
Before you can beg out a response, his lips are attached to your clit, sucking hard before laying his tongue flat against it, moving slow circles around.
His muscle memory guides him to fall into the pattern that he memorized to get you off with his mouth and fingers, pushing one of his thick fingers inside of your cunt knuckle deep and stroking against that same spot he knows drives you wild.
Your back arches off the bed, pressing your clit into his tongue harder. He slurps up your wetness, sighing at your familiar taste that he missed so much. Another finger is added, the rhythm of their thrusts building up faster and faster. Right at the edge, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging hard, he switches positions, tongue plunging inside of you and fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Before you can even register, you're coming around his mouth, flooding his tongue and his lips.
“Javi, oh my god, fuck me…”
He leads you through the orgasm, pulling away with a boyish smirk.
“That’s kind of the plan, hermosa. Gonna fuck you.”
You roll your eyes, beckoning him to stand up. Sitting up fully, you strip him of his slacks and boxers, briefly taking him in your mouth before he’s pulling you off of him and pushing you further up the bed. Climbing over you, a heady kiss is shared as he settles between your legs. In the moment, you easily get him onto his back, moving to straddle him as he looks up at you breathless. Large hands hold tightly to your thighs, jaw dropping as you grab his hard cock and easily slip him inside of you, sinking down until he’s full hilt.
“Fucking Christ, amor. Take my cock so well, show me what you can do.”
Your hips find a slow, aching rhythm that makes you both breathless. As you continue to grind yourself around him, you lean forward and press yourself against his torso, skin sticking to skin.
“Jav—Javier, you are such a good man. I never doubted how much you loved me. How much you do love me,” you breathe out, hips faltering for a moment before you recover.
 “You were always there for us, and I’m so proud of you for going after what you wanted. Making the world a better place…” you move your hips slowly as you ride him, leaning down to press your foreheads together, stuttering but managing to get the words out for him, “You are a great man and an even better father. I couldn’t have chosen a better partner. I love you.”
Javier whimpers and stutters out a moan when you move your hips faster, your hand on his chin keeping his forehead against you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, facing you and him whispering back, “Te amo, te amo, te amo. I love you so much, mi esposa. Mi amor. Te amo siempre.”
The sound that leaves you at that moment, hearing his proclamations of love, flips a switch inside of him. The primal need to make you his again, completely. His arm around your hips grips you tighter, feet planted on the mattress behind you. He uses the leverage to meet your rhythm with his own thrusts, sweet sounds slipping from your lips egging him on.
Your nails dig into his shoulders and he looks up at you in awe as you arch your back, head falling to the side as your face scrunches up in pleasure.
“Oh, fuck yes, yeah. Right there, ohmygod, papí…”
“Fuck, that’s right, baby,” he says in a drawn out exhale, hammering his hips up into you, “Say it again, mi amor. Say it again.”
“Papí—Feels so good, papí.”
“Yeah? Haven’t heard that one in a while, baby. Love it coming from you, say it again. Please, baby. Por favor.”
“Papí, papí, papí…Harder, please, want it harder.”
“Anything for you, mi amor. I’ll give you anything you want. Fuck this pussy however you want it, whenever you want me.”
One of your hands drops from his shoulder to the mattress, bracing yourself from his unrelenting pace. You’re a whining mess, opening your eyes and looking down at him under you, sweaty and glistening with his wild hair and mustache shiny from your come. Javier rumbles a loud moan of your name, on the verge of a growl when he feels you clench around his cock. 
“Come for me, mi esposa. Let me feel you…” he pulls you flush against him as he fucks up into you, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Te amo, mi esposa, te amo. I love you. Love you so much.”
“Pa—Papí, fuck! Oh my god, Javi!” Your head rolls back as you come around him, bounces faltering as you slip against his chest like jelly.
“Fuck, baby, gonna fill you up. You want me inside you all night, mi amor? Want me to make you full of me again?” His lips brush against your ear, whimper and nod in response.
“Yes, yes please, papí. Want you inside.”
“Fuck yes, mi amor. One more time for me, say it one more time.”
“Come inside me…please come for me, papí.”
A moan stutters in his throat as he buries himself fully in you, twitching with each rope he spends. Grip tightening around you, he stays inside of you as he kisses you deeply, pulling away to brush your hair away from your face.
“You have no idea how long I have been wanting to do that again, mi esposa. Te amo, hermosa. I love you.”
“I love you too, Jav. Missed you,” your head lays on his chest, sigh warming his sweaty skin, “Will you be around when we’re home or—“
“Mi amor, you’re gonna have a hard time keeping me away from you and Lili now. I wanna spend every moment I can with you both. My girls.”
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It’s a Sunday evening at the Peña ranch, a few weeks after Lili’s graduation. You and her have come over to Chucho’s house for dinner, Javier already there from working the day with his father. He’s mostly over at yours in the evenings, coming over to spend time with Lili, and you, staying for dinner, having movie nights, grilling out. He’s been basking in the slow life, the life of a father that he’s been so desperately craving. It’s been an itch like he has for a cigarette, finally taking an inhale and his nerves melting away as he adjusted to a balance with you two.
Tonight, however, Chucho insisted that you and he keep your weekly get-togethers, despite Javi being home for good now, and the four of you have had dinner around the cozy dining table off of the kitchen. Javier is gathering the dinner plates, Liliana standing to help him clean up.
“Anyone want any dessert? What d’ya have here, Pop?” he looks between his father and you, awaiting an answer.
Before Chucho can say anything, you sit up with a quiet gasp, “Oh, do you have any mangoes, Chuch? I really would love some mango with Tajín. Or some strawberries with honey. Or both.”
You grin up at Javier and he laughs, nodding his head.
“I’ll see what I can do, amor.”
“Y’know, mija, my Lucia always had mangoes around the house when she was pregnant with Javi. She would slice them up and put so much Chamoy and Tajín, you could barely see that it was a mango underneath it all.”
“That honestly sounds perfect right now, I bet Lucia made some kickass mangonadas, too,” you laugh softly, looking up behind you as Javi squeezes your shoulder lovingly.
“Oh, she definitely did. Whole family begged her to make them every time we all got together,” Chucho belly laughs fondly at the memories, nodding to himself, “We thought for the longest time that we were going to have a girl. All Lucia craved were sweets or fruits, and there’s some old wives tale, una fábula, that if your cravings are sweet, it is a girl, and if they’re savory, it’s a boy.”
“Huh, how funny. Guess thinking back, I did crave a lot of chocolate ice cream with Lili.”
“Oh god, I remember being kicked in the middle of the night and having to go to the town over cause they had a 24-hour gas station just to get you some Ben & Jerry’s,” Javier laughs, kissing the top of your head as you shrug.
“And now look, you’ve got the sweetest daughter to ever exist. All thanks to me,” you grin, sending Javi a wink as he finishes gathering the dishes from the table.
He sees his father smiling to himself as Chucho leans back in his chair, Javier retreating to the kitchen to find something for dessert for you while Lili washes up and the two of you at the table strike up some conversation.
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Later that week, you gave Javi a call and asked him to come over after he was done on the ranch. He agreed immediately, of course, and couldn’t fight the buzzing excitement he felt to see you again. It took him back to those days before Lili, before the two of you were ever really anything, you calling and asking him over to your dorm room or your apartment. He felt like a giddy teenager again.
He showered quickly and changed before heading over to yours, parking in the driveway of your small three bed house he had bought for you all. At the door, he knocked before using his key to get inside, calling out to you.
“Amor? Lili Pad? Anybody home?”
The pad of footsteps on the tile floors catch his attention, a smile stretching across his face as you come around the corner into the entryway. He kicks off his boots before meeting you in the middle, arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to his chest. He sighs an exhale, relaxing around your warmth.
“Long day, Jav?”
“You have no idea, mi amor. Had to chase a fucking bull that got loose in the pastures when we were trying to corral all of ‘em. My ass is hurting from having to ride the horse so much.”
You laugh into his chest, pressing a kiss to his shirt before leaning back to look at his face, “Oh your poor butt. You wanna sit on the couch then?”
He hums in confirmation, kissing the top of your head before you lead him into the living room and let him flop down on the sofa.
“Where’s Lili Pad?”
“Oh, um, she’s out with friends tonight. Thought it could be just us…” You join him, sitting with a couple of feet between you two. He can see how tense you are, sitting up straight, fiddling with your fingers, placing a pillow in your lap. Extending an arm out, he holds his hand palm up for you to take.
“I’m more than okay with just us, cariño. What’s going on with you? You seem anxious. Everything at work okay? Everything okay with Lili?” He rubs his thumb across your knuckles after you take his hand, brows knitting with concern.
“Yeah, yeah. Everything is great with Lili. And work is, well, work. No complaints…” your eyes stay trained on your hands together, swallowing before you speak up again, “I actually think it would be easier to show you.”
He feels even more concerned and confused as you stand up, disappearing out of the room for a moment before coming back with a hand behind your back. You don’t sit again, opting to stand in front of him; you bring your hand forward, passing the object to him.
It takes him a minute to register what it is, the last time he saw one this up close being about twenty something years ago.
A pregnancy test.
A positive pregnancy test.
Positive.
“Think we could do as good a second time around?”
You’re pregnant.
He’s going to be a dad again?
He’s going to be a dad again, with you?
He’s going to be a dad again. He gets to have another child with you.
His heart is beating out of his chest, mouth dropped open with no words coming out.
A shake of his head knocks him out of the shock, setting the test to the side and looking up at you with welling eyes.
“I get to be a papá again? With you, mi amor?”
A beaming smile widens on your face, your hands finding the sides of his head as you nod down at him.
“Yeah, honey, you’re going to be a dad, again. Lili’s gonna have a little brother or sister. Much, much younger,” you say with a chuckle.
Javier laughs a little breathless, eyes flickering between your face and your stomach that is eye level with him.
“Oh my god, oh my god, mi amor—Te amo, te amo siempre,” His hand finds her tummy, roaming around in circles, attempting to feel the familiar bump or any side of his baby growing inside there. Soft kisses litter your torso as he pulls you closer, resting his forehead against your ribs.
“I love you too, Jav,” you push back his hair and he stares up at you in wonder, pulling you gently to sit in his lap, “Do you…I mean, I want you to come home. Maybe we can actually get married this time. Have the family life with Lili and the little baby. I know we used to just joke about our fake city hall marriage, but I’ve always wanted that with you, Jav.”
A soft, tender kiss is shared, the two of you holding onto each other. One of Javier’s hands rests on your stomach, his heart already completely overflowing with love for the person growing inside of you. It’s quiet for a moment, both of you sitting with each other in silence. With another kiss, Javi hugs you, your head resting on his shoulder as he whispers in your ear.
“Graciás, mi amor. Thank you — for never giving up on our family. On me. Thank you for giving me everything I could have ever dreamed of. I can’t wait to have another baby with you, they’re gonna be as perfect as you, and Lili. My girls. Te amo, mi esposa, te amo siempre.”
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javi's photo board in colombia <3
tagging mutuals that might be interested??
@northernbluess @swiftispunk @johnwatsn @cannolighost @joelsversion @cupofjoel @darkroastjoel @atinylittlepain @beskarandblasters @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @bearsbeetsbeskar @smokeinherperfume @thetriumphantpanda @atticrissfinch @perotovar @mrsquill @javiscigarette @yazsos @deathwife @pr0ximamidnight @undrthelights @lunapascal @ladamedusoif @haylzcyon
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softstarlite · 6 months ago
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Se nos rompió el amor
CHAPTER 3
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Summary: You thought your love was strong and could conquer everything, I guess you were wrong...
Warnings: implied age gap, mentions of pregnancy, mention of symptoms of pregnancy, adorable father and daughter in law interactions, angst, awkwardness.
Rating: +18
Word count: 1.4k (sorry this one is short)
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Masterlist
Divider by @saradika-graphics
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It had been two months since you left Colombia and Javi behind; after a good long talk with Chucho the day after you landed on Laredo, you moved to the ranch´s guest room. Chucho hadn't been anything but kind and excited for the arrival of his grandkid. In these two months, you had already felt so close to him, he had hold your hair in the mornings while you suffered from morning sickness, you almost had to fight him so he would let you help around the ranch, on the mornings that you would wake up later, he would already left on the kitchen counter a coffee just like you like it, somehow still steaming like he had just done it.
You had decided to not contact Javi in these two months, but you knew that the change from one weekly phone call to now two or even three wasn't a coincidence, you even heard Chucho once talking with him on the kitchen phone, how he was telling Javi about your symptoms.
According to the local doctor´s calculations, you were on week 13 of your pregnancy. If it weren't for the morning sickness and the sometimes migraine, you wouldn't even remember that you are expecting.
It's around 6pm when you're preparing some dinner for both you and Chucho in the ranch´s kitchen, Chucho was staying until later working on the ranch chores since there had been an incident with one of the cows earlier on the day, you´re listening to a tango, Garufa by Malevaje, on your favorite spanish radio station while humming alongside it. You can remember your grandfather, your dad's dad, singing that tango all the time when you were little and then later about your dad teaching you the lyrics when you were a teen and your grandad had passed away.
The kitchen phone startles you when it starts to ring, you wipe your hands on the yellow apron you´re wearing and then walk across the kitchen to pick up the phone.
“Peña´s ranch” you say while keeping an eye on the bubbling sauce by the kitchen fires. You only hear an intake of air on the other side of the phone call but nothing more, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion “someone there?” the person on the other end clears their throat before saying your name, Javi´s voice being revealed to be the person calling.
“I was expecting pops…” before you have a chance to apologize and offer to go looking for Chucho, he asks “How are you? Pops said that the sickness was getting tough…”
“Umm… Yeah, yes” it's your turn to clear your throat “it's getting hard to cook anything without gagging lately” you let out an awkward chuckle.
“Mrs. Alvarez told me that when she had her sons, ginger worked great for her morning sickness” It surprises you that he even mentioned to the elderly woman, from the fruit stand that you both used to always buy from, about your pregnancy.
“Oh, I…I´ll try it” after a `good´ from him, an uncomfortable and awkward silence falls between you two “I got to go Javier, I have a sauce on the stove…” you break the silence making Javi regret not breaking it himself so he could keep you on the phone a little longer.
“Yeah, claro (sure), just tell pops to phone me when he can i guess” he curses himself as soon as he says it for not coming up with something that would make you stay on the call a bit longer. A small silence falls between you yet again before you hang the phone again on the wall.
Your hand goes to the swell on your stomach and you let out a sigh, you realize that a tear has escaped your eye when it hits your lips. You sniff and wipe your eyes, then you try to stabilize yourself with a deep breath to continue the dinner.
Later that night when Chucho and you are on the table eating the dinner that you had made, you put down your fork and swallow your bite of food.
“Javi called earlier…” you inform him while fidgeting with a crumb on the table. Chucho stops his fork mid air and puts it down as well.
“Oh… I'll call him after we are finished” he answers without giving it much more thought, to take tension from the situation. You decide to finally clear your doubts.
“Does he…does he ever ask about me or the baby?” you ask with nervous eating you.
This proves to be something that hits Chucho hard because he sits straight on his chair and takes a sip of his beer to clear his throat.
“No te confundas mija (Don't confuse yourself mija), Javier loves you and that baby more than anything, but you found a troubled man, corazón (heart)” he reaches across the kitchen table to hold your hand and give a squeeze “I'm not justifying him, will never do it, eso solo me haría un mal padre (that would only make me a bad father), but I know Javier is a man that carries a lot of trauma with him. He doesn't talk about it much, but he has done things done there that would make both of our stomachs turn, he needs for all of that to mean something, mija”
You weren't oblivious, after all you lived with Javier and you had seen what his job did to him personally. But you had never thought of it like that, of everything needing to have meaning to him. Javier had opened up to you about his trauma with mother, how he blamed himself everyday of her death, saying that no good son wold live her mother´s side when she gets diagnosed with a cancer, how him not being there was like another illness for her, how it made her only worse; you obviously told him that that was all in his head, that he was a loving son, you could see it and hear it when he would talk to Chucho over the phone, that his mother would´ve of never blame him for anything, that she understood Javier, bt Javier was convinced of his truth so all you could was hold him and comfort him.
“Si hay alguien en el mundo (if there´s someone in this world) that i'll always know, that' s my child, mija. You´ll understand it in not too long yourself” he gives your hand another squeeze, so your gaze that had fallen to you plate goes back to his own “And i know that my Javier loves my grandchild more than anything in his entire life, in a way he even feels that what he is doing is for the good of his child…”
That only brings tears to your eyes, you try to contain but you already know that Chcho can see them. Your hand is the one squeezing Chucho´s, you take off the napkin resting on your lap and put it on the table, then you separate your hand from his.
“I think i'm not hungry anymore, if you don't mind, I think i'll go and rest a bit” you say with a choking voice. trying to not burst into sobs in front of your child's abuelo.
Chucho immediately understands and nods “Of course, mija. No te preocupes por los trastes (Don't worry about the dishes)” he tells you with the try of a comforting smile.
You don't answer anything back and quickly make your way to your designated room.
Once the door of your room is closed and your back is pressed to it, a hand goes to your chest and you try to get the tears to go away. You want to blame them on your pregnancy hormones but you know that even you couldn't believe that.
Closing your eyes you can see yourself and Javi on the couch of your shared apartment in Colombia, sharing an ice cream tub due to the excruciating heat of summer while watching a soap opera and laughing together at how silly it was.
Your heart can't help but to hurt inside your ribcage, hurting because your happy memories with Javier now only bring tears to your eyes and sadness to your heart…
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ariundercovers · 8 months ago
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Standstill (Chucho's Version) Pt. X
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Pairing: Series - Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!) This chapter is JUST Javi / Chucho father & son realness.
Length: ~1k words
Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?
Chapter Summary: After Chucho drops you off at home, his conversation with Javi.
Chapter Warnings: only plot, angsty fluff, use of spanglish (I provide translations!), javi being a moron
A/N: This is my first time trying out writing in Spanglish for my readers. I have translations written into the text, but I'd LOVE to know how you feel about it - does it work for you? Did it take you out of the story? And, if you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feedback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts! And of course, just lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist, too!
PREVIOUS PART (VIX) HERE
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When Chucho gets home, he opens the door carefully, looking around for Javi who is, of course, nowhere to be seen. He hobbles down the hallway, stopping in front of his son’s door, and sighs heavily, shaking his head as he takes a deep breath and raises his fist to rap on the heavy wood.
Javi responds to the knock quickly, opening the door up enough to fully face Chucho with a miserable look plastered across his face.
“Mijo,” Chucho drawls, head cocking to the side. “Qué hiciste?” (what did you do?) Javi just shakes his head, shoulders falling in a somber release of whatever bravado he had been holding onto desperately. He drops his line of sight to the floor and opens up the door a little wider before he flops onto the end of his bed, holding his head in his hands.
“No sé. I don’t know what I did… I don’t know how to fix it. It all happened so fast. I messed up, Pops.” Chucho takes a seat at the small writing desk next to the door and reaches out to clap a hand on Javi’s shoulder, giving it a heavy squeeze.
“I gathered that much, Javier. What did you do?” Javi looks up at him blearily, back hunched uncomfortably, and takes a slow, deep breath. 
“She asked me about marriage, and kids, and houses, and I just… I fucking panicked.” Chucho raises a brow at him and chastises him lightly, simultaneously trying to lighten the mood and give Javi something else to focus on.
“Language, Javier.”
“Sorry, Pops. I just panicked. I lost it. I didn’t know how to… Coño. Soy un pendejo, Papi.” (fuck. I’m a moron, dad.)
“Sí, tú eres.” (yes, you are.) Chucho chuckles lightly at Javi’s admission, but pushes it down. He doesn’t need to add insult to injury. “No lo quieres? No la quieres?” (do you not want it? Do you not want her?)
“No, no, no, Pops, I… La deseo. La deseo mucho. Pero me dije a mi mismo… after Mami, you know… I told myself I wouldn’t let myself get to a place where I could feel that pain again. I promised myself I wouldn’t.”  (I want her. I want her so much. But I told myself…) 
Chucho nods in understanding and lets his hand drop from Javi’s shoulder.
“So you’re pushing her away out of miedo, mijo. El miedo no es forma de vivir.” (fear, son. Fear is no way to live.)
“Qué más puedo hacer?” (what else can I do?)
“El amor verdadero vale la pena. Cada vez. No importa lo doloroso que sea.” (true love is worth the pain. every time. It doesn’t matter how painful it is.)
“Y con Mami? That was worth it?” (and with Mami?)
“I would go through it all over again, for even un segundo más con tú Mami. Por supuesto, it was worth it.” (a second more with your mother. Of course,)
Javi sighs and looks up at Chucho, eyes pleading. “Then how do I fix it? I messed up, Pops. Yo no sé how to fix it.”  (I don’t know)
Chucho nods again, reaching out to squeeze a knee, this time. “You’ll figure it out. You love her. I can see that clearly. And she loves you. That’s even more clear to me. If this is meant to be between you two, pa’lante. Pero necesitas hablar con ella. No funcionará si guardas todo dentro, if you hide things from her. That’s how… well, that’s how things ended up the way they did.” (keep going. But you need to speak with her. It won’t work if you keep everything inside.)
Javi’s eyes snap up to his fathers, and Chucho can only hope that he understands what he really means. He doesn’t think he has it in him to say it aloud, not right now.
“You had no idea, did you, Pops?” He shakes his head side to side, somberly and sighs.
“I didn’t. Maybe if she had talked to me, if she had let me in, I could’ve gotten her help, or something. Tal vez si prestara más atención...” (maybe if I paid more attention…)
“No, Pops. You were always the most attentive husband. Anybody could see that. I could see that. It's part of why I'm so afraid of all this… I don't think I can live up to the standard you set for me. I don't know if I have it in me.”
“You do, Javier. I’ve seen how you are with her. You just have to hold onto it when things get tough, just keep a tight grip and don’t let go. Sé que lo que ustedes dos tienen es real. No dejes que eso pase por nada. Hablar con ella.” (I know what the two of you have is the real thing. Don’t let that go for anything. Talk to her.) Javi heaves out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing as he forces himself to sit up a bit straighter, the position starting to pinch something in his back.
“Okay. Sí, Papi. Lo haré. (Yes, dad. I will.) I’ll figure this out.”
“Give her some time, but then you have to step up and own up to it, yeah? Don’t let this one fall through your fingertips. Nunca te perdonarás a ti mismo..” (you’ll never forgive yourself if you do)
“Yeah. I get it. Gracias, Pops.”
“Any time, mijo. I like it when you talk to me. You know you can, whenever you need to, right?” Chucho is trying his best to tread carefully, to not overstep into the love life of his very-much-an-adult son, but he can’t help it when it’s so clear to him what’s going wrong, what potential he might be wasting if he doesn’t get his act together, at least in some capacity. 
The truth of the matter is that he’s never seen Javier so happy, so at peace, as he is when you’re around. That means something - it means a lot, really. He just hopes Javi has it in him to fix this.
A/N: I know this is short - but I really wanted to explore this idea and this relationship a little bit more, and it felt right to keep it on the shorter side. I hope you still enjoyed! Next full chapter will be out soon. <3
xoxoxo
Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions @grippysockedtoebeans
(lmk if you'd like to be added!)
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jolalibrary · 5 months ago
Note
Hello my love!
Can I have 15 & 19 for the writer asks please?
Love, El
hi hi hiiiiiiiiii, of courseeee you can.
15. favourite weather for writing
anything autumnal/wintery. so i love the rain (shock) but i also like a good storm when I'm home, i also love it a little grey, a little dark. and i prefer writing at night so in autumn i am able to get into that headspace sooner. one huge benefit for a husband working night shifts, black out curtains, so if I'm a little word-stipated, i can go hide in there, draw the curtains and replicate my ideal environment (with rain sounds, of course)
19. the most interesting topic you've researched for a fic
so, one thing i LOVED researching about and plotting out was laredo in late night texts. the international bridge/trade took so much of my time so early on, but it allowed me to plot out things. plus, revisiting 2000s as i was a wee lass, and also seeing how different things were across the pond was really cool to me.
ask me fanfic writer asks ✍️
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thelensofyashunews · 2 months ago
Text
LEON BRIDGES RELEASES FOURTH STUDIO ALBUM LEON
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GRAMMY® Award-winning Texas recording artist, songwriter, and performer Leon Bridges shares his fourth studio album Leon via Columbia Records. 
Starting the week with an intimate underplay three-night residency at Austin’s legendary Continental Club, Leon treated the audiences to brand new songs from the Leon album as well as beloved favorites.
Says Leon on the album, “Leon is the genre.”
The album’s release follows the first single “Peaceful Place,” fan track “Laredo” and the Fallon-debuted “That’s What I Love.” Recorded and produced by Ian Fitchuk (Kacey Musgraves, Maggie Rogers) at El Desierto on the outskirts of Mexico City with co-production from Daniel Tashian (Kacey Musgraves) in Nashville, Leon features 13 handcrafted tracks spotlighting Leon’s signature storytelling and organic genre alchemy. Leon unfolds as his most poignant, powerful, and personal body of work to date as the man himself takes you through the streets he knows best, the things he holds dearest, and the memories of the people and place that shaped him. Six years in the making, this record is unmistakably Leon. Check out the full tracklisting below. Leon builds on the legacy of Leon Bridges' three previous albums, Gold-Diggers Sound, Good Thing, and Coming Home, all of which received GRAMMY nominations for Best R&B Album.
Bookended appropriately with Texas dates, Leon launches Leon Bridges: The Leon Tour this weekend at ACL Festival in Austin. The tour will then make stops in less traveled markets in Texas before heading across North America to cities such as Chicago, Toronto, New York, Nashville and more before wrapping with a special SOLD OUT homecoming show at the Dickies Arena in Fort Worth, Leon’s biggest headline show to date. Leon is excited to share that $1 from every ticket sold will go directly to his charity, The Big Good. Hermanos Gutiérrez will support Leon on all dates, with Charley Crockett serving as direct support in Fort Worth. All shows are on sale now with many shows already sold out. For more information on Leon Bridges: The Leon Tour, please visit www.leonbridges.com/tour. Full routing below.
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javierpena-inatacvest · 9 months ago
Note
Hi Madeline!
I'm throwing out random asks for a bit of fun.
This year is a leap year, and as 29th February is not technically a real day, I'm giving you the chance to spend 28th February with a Pedro character that you love and 29th February with a Pedro character that you don't. Which are they, and how are you spending your days?
Love, El
Hi sweet El!!! 🥰
Oooohhhhh okay, this is such a fun question!!!
On February 28th, it should be a surprise to no one that I am spending the day with my sweet Javier Peña 🤪 if we have to be specific, season 3 or Laredo Javi (yall know why) and we will be spending the day um…. Well…. ✨having fun✨ (aka letting this man rearrange my insides LMAOOOO)
I will not be spending February 29th with Dave York bc he scares me and I’m afraid he would kill me 💀 (sorry Dave York apologists)
Love,
Madeline 🤍
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fluttering-slips · 7 months ago
Text
Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, Please come to the gate immediately. Well – one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she Did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, Sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew – however poorly used - She stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and Would ride next to her – southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and Found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering Questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies – little powdered Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts – out of her bag – And was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, The lovely woman from Laredo – we were all covered with the same Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers – Non-alcoholic – and the two little girls for our flight, one African American, one Mexican American – ran around serving us all apple juice And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend – by now we were holding hands – Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate – once the crying of confusion stopped – has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
Naomi Shihab Nye
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sorreleater · 9 months ago
Text
Gate A-4
Naomi Shihab Nye
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning
my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement:
"If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please
come to the gate immediately."
Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just
like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,"
said the flight agent. "Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this."
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
"Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-se-wee?" The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly
used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled
entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the
next day. I said, "No, we're fine, you'll get there, just later, who is
picking you up? Let's call him."
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would
stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to
her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just
for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while
in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I
thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know
and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool
cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and
nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the
lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two
little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they
were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This
is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that
gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about
any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
2 notes · View notes
poem-today · 1 year ago
Text
A poem by Naomi Shihab Nye
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Gate A-4
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: "If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately."
Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. "Help," said the flight agent. "Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this."
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly. "Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit- se-wee?" The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, "No, we're fine, you'll get there, just later, who is picking you up? Let's call him."
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend— by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi- tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those otherwomen, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
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Naomi Shihab Nye
Listen to Naomi Shihab Nye read her poem
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impromptu-manifesto · 1 year ago
Text
Gate A-4 (Naomi Shihab Nye)
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: "If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately."
Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. "Help," said the flight agent. "Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this."
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly. "Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-se-wee?"
The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day.
I said, "No, we're fine, you'll get there, just later, who is picking you up? Let's call him."
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to her. She talked to him.
Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar, too.
And I noticed my new best friend— by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
by Naomi Shihab Nye, "Gate A-4" from Honeybee. Copyright © 2008 
via poets.org
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seekingstars · 1 year ago
Text
Gate A-4 - Naomi Shihab Nye
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning
my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement:
"If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please
come to the gate immediately."
Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just
like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. "Help,"
said the flight agent. "Talk to her. What is her problem? We
told her the flight was going to be late and she did this."
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
"Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-
se-wee?" The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly
used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled
entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the
next day. I said, "No, we're fine, you'll get there, just later, who is
picking you up? Let's call him."
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would
stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to
her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just
for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while
in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I
thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know
and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool
cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and
nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the
lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two
little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they
were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-
tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This
is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that
gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about
any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
4 notes · View notes
maquilanews · 2 months ago
Text
Nuevo Laredo brilla en la Feria Tamaulipas
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NUEVO LAREDO, TAM.- El Pabellón de Nuevo Laredo ha tenido un gran éxito en la Feria Tamaulipas 2024, con numerosos visitantes interesados en descubrir las ventajas y la grandeza de la ciudad. Autoridades municipales mencionaron que la participación en este evento ha permitido destacar las diversas oportunidades que ofrece Nuevo Laredo, así como su cultura y tradiciones que han sido conocidas por personas de otros municipios de Tamaulipas e incluso de otros estados.
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Los visitantes, durante su recorrido por el stand de Nuevo Laredo han tenido la oportunidad de ver una variedad de atracciones como la exhibición de una réplica de dinosaurio para promover el Museo de Historia Natural, exposiciones de animales de la región como el venado cola blanca y jabalíes. Además se les entregan artículos de la ciudad con la marca I Love NLD, promoción del Zoológico de la ciudad, karaoke entre otras divertidas dinámicas. Read the full article
0 notes
summerreign4077 · 3 months ago
Text
"Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: "If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately." Well - one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. "Help," said the flight agent. "Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this."
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
"Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-se-wee?" The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, "No, we're fine, you'll get there, just later, who is picking you up? Let's call him."
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies - little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts - from her bag - and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo - we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend - by now we were holding hands - had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate - once the crying of confusion stopped- seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost."
Credit: Naomi Shihab Nye
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oficinadecorresponsales · 1 year ago
Text
Todo listo para festejos del 175 Aniversario de la ciudad
Staff NUEVO LAREDO, Tam., 11 de junio .— Este jueves 15 de junio el Gobierno Municipal invita al gran concierto para celebrar el 175 aniversario de la fundación de Nuevo Laredo con la presentación de Alejandra Guzmán y los Kumbia Kings. Además podrán disfrutar de la Campechaneada donde también habrá música, corredor gastronómico, stand I Love NLD y muchas sorpresas más. La cita es en la…
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thelensofyashunews · 4 months ago
Text
LEON BRIDGES ANNOUNCES SELF-TITLED ALBUM, "LEON" OUT OCTOBER 4
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Today, GRAMMY® Award-winning Texas recording artist, songwriter, and performer Leon Bridges announces his fourth full-length LP, Leon, releasing on October 4, 2024, via Columbia Records.
Pre-order/Pre-save is available now HERE.
The highly anticipated release notably marks Leon’s first album in three years and is heralded with today’s unveiling of his new single, “Peaceful Place.”
Filmed in Leon’s own peaceful place, the outskirts of Mexico City, the official video gives a candid look at the recording of the album, showcasing Leon’s explorations as he finds inspiration in the culture with his newfound state of mind that no one can take away.
youtube
Says Leon in a personal letter to fans announcing Leon, “Leon has been a long-time coming. I started writing pieces of it as far back as Gold-Diggers Sound. They didn't fit what I was trying to do with that album and I tried moving on. But I couldn’t shake them because they're part of me. And, if I'm honest, also because I think this is some of my most excellent work yet.
In many ways, Leon has been in the works since my childhood. This record is about simpler days. It's about time spent in my beloved Fort Worth and the experiences that made me the man I am today. It's soulful music in the truest sense - it's imbued with my soul.
I'm excited to share these stories about my home, about nostalgia, about my upbringing, about where I'm from, with all of you. I hope this music brings you back to your roots and your journey.”
Recorded and produced by Ian Fitchuk (Kacey Musgraves, Maggie Rogers) at El Desierto on the outskirts of Mexico City with co-production from Daniel Tashian (Kacey Musgraves) in Nashville, Leon features 13 handcrafted tracks spotlighting Leon’s signature storytelling and organic genre alchemy. Leon unfolds as his most poignant, powerful, and personal body of work to date as the man himself takes you through the streets he knows best, the things he holds dearest, and the memories of the people and place that shaped him. This record is unmistakably Leon.
Leon follows his third studio album Gold-Diggers Sound, which was released back in 2021 to unanimous acclaim and serves as Leon’s third album (out of three) to receive a GRAMMY® nomination for R&B Album of the Year. It bowed in the Top 20 of the Billboard 200 and incited the applause of Pitchfork, Clash [9-out-of-10], NME [4-out-of-5], and Rolling Stone [4-out-of-5], among others. Just this year has seen Leon collaborate with Gunna on “clear my rain,” release “Chrome Cowgirl” for the Twister movie soundtrack and join Kacey Musgraves on “Superbloom,” a duet for the extended edition of her Deeper Well album.
Leon Official Tracklist:
1. When A Man Cries
2. That’s What I Love
3. Laredo
4. Panther City
5. Ain’t Got Nothing On You
6. Simplify
7. Teddy’s Tune
8. Never Satisfied
9. Peaceful Place
10. Can’t Have It All
11. Ivy
12. Ghetto Honeybee
13. God Loves Everyone
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