#armandoxofc

[fictionalreads]

Do You Feel The Way My Past Aches? Part 1

A/N: Hey y'all! I know I said I would have this out a while ago but....clearly that didn't happen. NOT FOR LACK OF TRYING THOUGH! This just didn't want to be written. Not gonna lie it's pretty heavy on info dumping but when I tried to take some of it out, it didn't flow right. So this is just a little intro to set up the story, give you some background. Hope you guys like it!

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Summary: Armando Aretas was 13 when he found out a life altering family secret. His discovery led him down a different path than he expected, changing the course of his life. Now a famous boxer, he searches for the truth that was hidden from him, the family he was denied.

Armando was thirteen when he found out the man who had been raising him wasn’t his father. Benitos Aretas, his mother’s husband, was lying in a hospital bed. Machines hooked up to him at various points of his body. His mother was in the cafeteria grabbing a small bite to eat after being in this hospital room all day as they had been for the past week.

Armando himself was sitting in a corner, working on his homework when the man spoke to him. “Armando, come here.” Armando, not wanting to invoke the man’s temper, stood immediately and sat in the chair next to the bed that his mother had occupied all week. He was unsure what the man could possibly want from him. He had done his best to stay out of the way and anything he wanted, he would get from the nurses and not Armando.

“I won’t be here much longer and I think it’s time you knew the truth.” This piqued his interest, turning his faux interest into genuine curiosity. As far as he knew, his parents had been forthcoming with him his entire life. “I’m not your father. I can’t have kids. Your mother thinks I’m stupid enough to believe her nonsense about it being a miracle from the gods but I know she whored herself out to her not so secret lover.”

Normally Armando would lash out against the man’s name calling, but his mind was reeling. He couldn’t say the feeling coursing through him was surprise. It was closer to relief and understanding. Understanding of why the man he had believed to be his father had always been so hard on him and disapproving of everything he’d done. He had been raising his wife’s kid she had with her lover. Relief because it meant he wasn’t necessarily doomed to have a father that hated him, he could have one that actually liked him.

And didn’t that make him feel guilty when the man who fed and clothed him, kept him safe and made sure he was taken care of, died not even eight hours later.

After that, he’d hinted at the fact that he knew Aretas wasn’t his father only once around his mother. She’d pretended not to hear him, but he’d seen the way her shoulders tensed. It was clear she wouldn’t tell him anything about his real father, she’d probably take the secret to her grave. He had taken his frustration to a local gym, pounding his anger out on a punching bag. It was there that a boxing coach took notice of him.

Alejandro “Jandro” Martinez was the owner of Pinchazo, a recreational boxing gym. Jandro had been a low-level runner for the cartel but his family connections to it had led to him knowing more than someone in his position should know. Which meant when he was picked up for a drug charge at nineteen and some overzealous cop trying to make a name for himself tried to make him give up information, he had to keep his mouth shut or end up dead. His loyalty to the cartel cost him ten years of his life but it earned him respect, respect he used to decline the cartel’s offer of a higher position and instead ask a favor. After spending time in lockup he decided he was done with that life and wanted to give others the chance to stay away from it. So he opened his gym and in exchange for turning a blind eye when certain people needed to use it after hours, any kid that associated with his gym was left alone.

It’s for that reason he was concerned when he saw Armando Aretas walk in his gym for the first time.

Aretas was the son of a man who had a sizable drug empire that would no doubt be passed on to him when he was ready now that the man had died. For a week, he simply watched to see what the boy was doing in his gym. He had a sloppy form but he held potential, his hits fueled by anger. What caught his attention though, was the lack of recruiting. He had assumed the boy would be trying to get new faces to join his operations, but he only ever punched a bag and left, never talking to anyone.

After that initial week, Jandro was too curious to let it go on. He approached him, “Your back foot needs to be raised.”

“What?”

“Your back foot. Raise it to be on your toes. It should twist as you throw the punch.”

The boy followed the advice and noticed the difference in his punch. “Thanks.”

“Why are you here?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have to know this gym is off limits to the cartel. Your old man was the first one to agree to my terms. So why are you here?”

“I am not my father’s son.” Jandro didn’t know just how true that statement was at the time but he could feel the genuine hatred rolling off the boy in waves.

He took a chance and coached the boy whenever he came in. Initially it was just to help him with his form, maybe redirect some of that anger, but as they worked Jandro saw the raw talent Armando held. He offered him a set training time, real coaching and local fights in the boxing world with the agreement that he’d stay away from his family business and never bring it to the gym.

Armando was intrigued by the possibilities. When he first went into the gym he’d just been trying to blow off some steam, but when Jandro started giving him pointers and spending time working with him he began to really love the sport. He spent all his free time either in the gym or studying old matches to improve his own technique. He had never imagined it could lead to this and he quickly agreed to Jandro’s terms.

His mother wasn’t so enthusiastic.

She told him he wasn’t allowed to continue and needed to focus on getting ready to take over his father’s empire. She wanted him to start listening in on meetings and understanding their business. When he pointed out Benito Aretas hadn’t actually been his father and therefore he had no empire to take over, she quietly fumed. He clearly knew the truth and denying it would only make her look foolish, something she vowed to never allow again. Acknowledging the truth wasn’t an option either as she would then open herself to questions from him about his biological father.

So she said nothing and he continued training with Jandro.

She never stopped him from going to the gym, knowing it would only push him further away, but she never supported it either. She never came to any of his matches, never celebrated his wins, not even when he got a sponsorship from a local brewery the day he turned 18. Maybe she figured he would grow out of it or that he’d eventually turn to the family business but unfortunately for her, his love for the sport only grew and soon he was making waves in the sport. 

Which led him to where he is now.

At twenty-six years old he was a big name in the boxing world, making enough money to live comfortably and then some. It was a point of pride for him as his mother had made it clear he would not be living off her money if he continued to refuse the work she did. When he first started making money from his matches, he started saving as much as he could. It wasn’t much and he’d had to live on Jandro’s couch for about a year, but he’d made it through. He had turned his back on his mother’s drug regime a long time ago and he’d refused to go crawling back to her.

Jandro’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. “Estas listo para esto?”

Armando nodded, feigning more confidence than he felt. He grabbed his bag from the jet they had flown on and began to make his way to the front to deboard when Jandro grabbed his arm again. 

“Oye, pase lo que pase, siempre estaré de tu lado.” Jandro said the words clearly, making sure to maintain eye contact.

If there was one thing Armando was sure of, it was that Jandro would be there for him. The man had been acting as his father figure practically since they met. He supported his dreams, pushed him to reach them, held him when it got to be too much and celebrated his wins with him. He’d taken care of him when his mother was too angry at his refusal to join the drug game. He trusted the man more than anyone else in his life, and he knew if things went sideways, he would still have Jandro there.

And everything crashing around him was a definite possibility because after years of searching, he’d found his biological father. 

At least he hoped. There were no official records, only hearsay he had managed to piece together once he’d found his mother’s biological family, which had been another thing she’d lied about. She’d told him she was an orphan with no family left when she met Benitos Aretas, but the truth was that she left her family because they weren’t interested in a life of crime. He had three aunts that welcomed him into their fold with zero hesitation. When he mentioned wanting to find his biological father, they told him stories of a man his mother had been involved with at the same time that Aretas was courting her. They didn’t know much, just that he was American, black and handsome. For a while they thought he might convince her to leave Aretas, but one day he’d disappeared and she refused to speak about him anymore. Next thing they knew she was married and no longer speaking to them.

His Tia Arianna had found a picture of his parents together and had given it to him. He made a couple copies of the picture and used them to try and track the man down. It hadn’t been easy but he’d finally gotten a name. Mike Lowery, a decorated detective from Miami. It didn’t match with the name his tias had given him, but he couldn’t deny the file he’d been given by a private investigator. It was definitely him. He had a feeling he knew what the name difference was about but he’d wait to get the story from the man himself. His first order of business was to find the man and find out if he knew about him or not.

Armando took a deep breath to calm the million thoughts and scenarios racing through his mind. “I know,” he finally responded to Jandro. He put his shades on, grabbed his bag and made his way off the plane. “Hagámoslo.”

A/N: What do we think? I love hearing your feedback on my stories. Drop a comment, like or reblog💙 If you wanna be tagged just let me know.

Translations:

Estas listo para esto- You ready for this?

Oye, pase lo que pase, siempre estaré de tu lado. - Hey, no matter what I’m always in your corner.

Hagámoslo - Let’s do it

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @d4rno @nelo0wesker @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @bootlegroach