#third is from bogota | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunlitblue · 5 months ago

Text

Need You (More Than Want You)

this is about 6.5k words, and focuses on secretary!reader x javier peña. there are flashbacks, so pay attention to the dates and headers! the reader-character is not named but is referred to using she/her pronouns. title is from the song "Wichita Lineman" by Glen Campbell. line breaks from evansyhelp!

contains (lots of) swearing, making out, and possible future chapters will contain smut so tentatively 18+. pls rb if u enjoy so other people can read it too (✿◠‿◠)

You're not usually an angry person, but whoever is knocking at your door at seven in the fucking morning on a Saturday deserves nothing less than death. You wrench the door open, ready to let loose all the Spanish curse words you've been learning, but you are rendered speechless, because in your doorway, there he stands. It's been weeks since you've seen him, even longer since you've actually spoken, and last you heard he was being shipped back to D.C. to hand in his gun and badge, and yet. And yet, Javier Peña is standing at your door, at seven AM, panting like he's just a run a marathon.

"Hi," he says, pushing his way into your apartment like he has any right to be there. His eyes are wild and strangely desperate, in a way you've only seen once before.

You've spent so many sleepless nights rehearsing what you might say to him if you ever saw him again. Some nights, you yell until you're hoarse. Other nights, you crumple into his arms and cry like a child while he holds you. Now he is front of you, and you can't manage anything other than a weak, "Hey."

"You look good," he says, even though he hasn't made eye contact since he walked in.

He looks good too, dressed in a suit with a fucking tie and everything. He looks more official than you've seen him before, but you won't give him the satisfaction of saying that. He probably already knows, the cocky asshole.

"Thanks," you reply, voice tight. And then, the question he's been expecting, "What are you doing here, Javier?"

He looks at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. Inhalen y exhalen, like his mother taught him once upon a time.

"I need you," he says, and he winces when you balk. "I mean, I need you to come work for me, work with me, in Bogota. You're the only person I trust."

You try to hold it in, to be mature, but you can't help the incredulous scoff that you let out.

"Not a fucking chance," you say.

"Just," he sighs, "just please hear me out. Please, before you say no." You don't kick him out, so he takes that as a sign to continue. "After everything that happened here, in Medellin, after everything I did, I was so sure that it was over for me. That they would take my badge and kick me out forever, but they," he hesitates, "they didn't. They want me to be the DEA attaché in Bogota, to take down Cali. You're the most competent person I know, and I can't do it without you."

He looks so earnest, so unlike that stoic man you knew before, that you almost fold. Almost.

"Congratulations on the promotion, but it's still no, Javier."

"Why?" he demands, "What did I— How can I convince you?"

He was one of the first people you met in Colombia, he was close to being your first friend, and you’ve never seen him beg like this. Not for paperwork to be filed, not for a meeting with Messina, not even for a chance with that hot secretary on the third floor.

"You said you want me because you trust me, Javier. That's why it's no. After what you did, what you were involved with, the US of fucking A rewards you for your sins with a goddamn pay raise and a new job. I can't trust them and, after you ignored me for months, Peña, like I was the one who did something wrong, I definitely can't trust you."

His eyes are pleading, verging on pathetic.

"You can," his voice is hoarse, watery. "You can trust me. It'll be different this time, it'll be good. We'll do it right, end this once and for all. I just, I need you there with me."

In spite of yourself, you believe him. Your traitorous heart flutters at that word -- need -- again, and you take your own deep breath in to stop yourself from thinking of the last time he said something similar, when his body was underneath yours and you were breathing in tandem. You exhale and observe him for a moment, his head hanging down and his eyes screwed shut, like he's ashamed of something.

You've never said it out loud, but Javier has always known you're somewhat of a kindred spirit. That was what started the arguing, the heat that had once pulsed between the two of you. Naive as it may have been, you were an idealist, just like him. You believed in justice, and you had worked to see it done. With Pablo, it had been messy, a winding, twisted path that started and ended in bloodshed. Maybe, Javier was right. Maybe you finally had a chance to do things right, to make up for all the ways you failed. Maybe you could finish this, be done with Colombia, be done with him, once and for all. You sigh out his name and he finally looks up.

"When?" Your hands are on your hips and you look grim. It's a familiar look to Javier, one of his favourites on you.

"What?" he snaps out of his observation of you.

"When?" you repeat, impatient. "When do we start?"

He beams, a smile wide and fucking dangerous, like the burning sun on a summer day in Colombia. That's how it all starts, after it has ended once already. You're screwed, you just know it.

Bogota, 1994. Months later.

"No one can get in to see him at short notice, Peña, he's a stickler for due process. I'm afraid this is out of my hands." Crosby is as grim and as unhelpful as ever.

"What do you mean 'this is out of your hands'? You're the fu— the ambassador! Surely, there's something you can do?"

Javier is exhausted. This charade of professionalism is draining. He needs a cigarette, he needs a politician who gives a fuck. Crosby sighs, and shakes his head no.

"I'm sorry, Peña. Find a different judge, or find a different way."

It's as good as a dismissal, and Javier stomps out of the ambassador's office, a storm in his eyes. He's reaching into his back pocket for his smokes, before he swears, remembering that you’re holding onto them. He’s supposed to be quitting, after all. He sighs and re-routes to your desk, just outside his office. It has been months since he begged you to join him, and you are every bit the asset he knew you’d be. The office would fall apart without you. He’d fall apart without you. Thanks to Feistl and Van Ness, the agents you’d recommended he choose for Cali, the DEA is closer than ever to bringing down Miguel. But close is not close enough if he can’t get his warrant, if he can’t do things right this time.

When you come into view, you're telling Stoddard off for something, and Javier smiles in spite of himself.

"Yes, Agent, I am well aware that I don’t outrank you. I'm just telling you that Agent Peña will take a look at your proposal after, and only after, I have vetted it and decided if it’s worth his time. He's too busy for bullshit," you say, dismissing the younger agent easily.

"What bullshit am I too busy for today?" Javi leans on your desk and gives you a thin, conspiratorial smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"The young man wants a new water cooler for the office. He wrote you a proposal, Javi," you smirk back.

"Whatever I see goes through her first. You know the rules, kid," Javier addresses Stoddard, who straightens up at the attention.

"But I—" he starts to protest.

"But nothing. She’s more capable than anyone in this office, including me. It's her call."

Stoddard sighs and deposits the document on your desk, before slouching back to his.

You survey Javier for a moment.

"Meeting with Crosby didn't go well?" you probe, already holding out his pack of Camels. Javier knows better than to be surprised that you can read his mood so easily, even when he's trying to quash his disappointment down.

"Yeah, it's a no go. Looks like I won't be able to get an expedited warrant from Lopéz, and he's the only judge we know for sure won't snitch to the godfathers. We'll have to find another way," he sighs, taking the cigarettes from your hand and lighting one up.

"Wait, the judge you need is Lopéz? Emiliano Lopéz?" you have a familiar look on your face, that icy determination that first endeared Javi to you, even when he wouldn’t admit it.

"Yeah, Lopéz, the magistrate here in Bogota. His docket is full for weeks, and he’s not the type to let us cut in the line. He's honest enough that he won't work for Cali, and honest enough that he won't budge under any pressure from us. Not to mention the fact that he hates America, and all that good ol’ Uncle Sam stands for," Javi takes a deep drag of his cigarette, his mind already thinking of loopholes, of strategies, of options. Turns out that doing things right in Colombia isn't as easy as it looks. Due process often means the slow-turning wheels of justice, and that means a chance for the godfathers to evade capture once again. But he had promised you that things would be different, and he meant it.

Javier turns back to you, raises his eyebrows at your wide grin.

"I can get to Lopéz," you are already flipping through your almighty rolodex. He sighs, and says your name.

"I wasn't kidding when I told the kid that you're the best person here, but this may be beyond even your powers," he says, gently. He knows you don't like to be wrong, just like him.

You don't argue, not even to remind him that that isn't exactly what he said to Stoddard a minute ago. Instead, you ignore the flutter in your chest that his compliment brings on and pause on an entry: "Here it is! Gabriela Lopez!"

"His wife?" Javier asks, intrigued.

Your smile is shining.

"Even better. His daughter. His only daughter. Met her a few years back at some fancy government party. Her birthday is in a couple of days, and I happen to know her favourite brand of tequila. Lend me that corporate card and I'll get her to talk to dear old dad." You're smug, as you well should be.

Javier sighs again, but he's already digging for the card in his wallet.

"You sure this'll work?" he asks, holding it just out of your reach.

"You dare to doubt me? Just for that, you're paying for drinks on Friday," you snatch the card from him, already dialling the number on the office landline.

"Drinks?" he asks, trying not to be mesmerised by your pretty red nails as you twirl the phone cord in your hands.

"Drinks," you confirm. "We're going out for drinks after this works out."

Before he can reply, you're already hollering into the phone and shooing him away.

"Gabi! Hi! How's the baby doing? Still keeping you and Samuél up all night?"

He ambles back to his desk and slumps in his chair, pretending to look over a report. In reality, he's watching you through the glass door, your over-expressive face and your widening grin. He really had meant what he said to Stoddard earlier: you are the best person in the entire office, maybe in all of Colombia. You are far better than he deserves, that much he knows. More than just a capable assistant, you're the lifeblood of the DEA in Bogota: competent, organised and meticulous to a fault.

He frowns to himself as he remembers how he made fun of you, back in Medellin, for those same traits. Attractive, and more than a little intimidating, he had envied your charm and likability. Even worse, he had despised the fact that you barely gave him a second glance, rebuffing his flirtations and throwing out his shoddy paperwork in favour of Murphy's neat handwriting. He had seen you as a bastion of bureaucracy, everything that was the problem with the government and the DEA. Messina's pretty assistant, who demanded excellence and challenged him, constantly. He knows now that you are anything but a stickler for the rules. In reality, you believe in order and in systems, not unlike Martinez. You bend rules, but only when you know it is right. You make sure everything looks good on paper, because you know that good actions mean nothing in this world without the paper trail to back them up. You are good, and Javier, as much as he tries to be better these days, can never forget how he once was anything but.

He sighs and returns to his work, giving you one more longing look since he knows you aren’t paying attention. He's lost in his documents when you come bounding in, not bothering to knock.

"Good news or bad news, first?" you say, beaming as you lean your forearms on his desk. He clears his throat and is proud to say that he barely glances at your chest. Barely.

"Good news, please," he says.

"You have a meeting. His new secretary is Peruvian, and she’s doing us a huge favour, so you're going to buy her a box of alfajores and some flowers on your way in to the judicial offices at 8am, tomorrow. Get there fifteen minutes early, parking is a bitch."

Javier is on his feet and hugging you before he can really think about it. You came through, because, of course you did. You were right, he was ridiculous to doubt you, competent, capable, wonderful, you. You're laughing in delight at his over-the-top reaction.

"Wait," he says, holding on to your shoulders, "what's the bad news?"

You sigh, pouting exaggeratedly, "Gabriela's cousin's bachelorette party is on Friday, and I need to give her that fancy bottle of tequila, so we have to postpone our celebratory drinks."

He's trying and failing to bite back his smile, and yours doesn't falter, even as he steps back and the space around you empties of his electricity.

"What a shame," he drawls, already pulling his fancy whiskey and two glasses out of the drawer of his desk. "Guess we'll just have to celebrate now, instead."

He pours you a glass and hands it to you, ignoring the familiar spark when your hand brushes his.

"A tu salud," he clinks it with yours, and you take a sip in tandem. The whiskey is rich and warm on your tongue. Despite it all, you can't help but miss the burn of the cheap, shitty liquor you once shared with him.

The warrant comes through, because of course it does, and the operation to arrest Miguel Rodriguez is a success. Javier does his press interviews and you stand off to the side, watching the way he commands the room when he speaks. He wishes he could tell the world how he owes this success to you, to your fucking rolodex, your support, your charm. Even now, as he is trying to be a better man, he knows he does not have the words for all you are to him. Instead, he just smiles at you as he walks away from the platform. He leads you away from the clamouring journalists into an empty hall, wraps you in a bear hug, and whispers "Thank you," over and over again into your hair. He hopes you understand everything he means, hidden below the simple words. You hug him back, tight and firm, and he thinks that maybe you do. Maybe you understand his words, his meaning, him, better than anyone ever has before.

A few days later, he is working in his office, trying not to look at you through the glass doors. You’re a vision in that red dress – your Friday dress, you call it – and he knows that if he glances up at you, he won’t be able to look away. In his periphery, he sees someone approach your desk. Probably Stoddard, he guesses. Except, you were usually pretty good at shoo-ing the kid away and this person is lingering. He looks over just in time to see you throw your head back in laughter at something Feistl – fucking Feistl – is saying. He’s talked to Feistl plenty, and Javier knows for a fact that he is not that funny.

He frowns, and strains to hear your conversation, striding across the room to fiddle with his filing cabinet, where he thinks he might hear you better. He’s just curious, he tells himself.

“–dancing? Next Friday, around eight. There’s a cute new place on Calle 83 that I’ve been meaning to try.”

“Yeah, that sounds great, though I’m not much of a dancer,” he sounds sheepish.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Maybe after a couple of drinks, I’ll even teach you how to cumbia,” you smirk at him, and now it’s Chris’s turn to laugh.

Javier is squeezing the door of his filing cabinet so tight that he thinks he might warp the metal. Feistl and… you? Dancing? Drinks? His stomach hurts a little at the thought of it, and he wishes he hadn’t been so curious, so nosy.

He huffs and goes to sit back down at his desk, tries valiantly to focus again. But he can’t stop thinking about you in that dress, about you dancing, laughing with someone who isn’t him. In the end, he needs to stay late to get through all the work that he couldn’t focus on. Though his concentration isn’t any better in the evening, because you’re working late too, and you’re so close that he feels like his body is humming. You’ve taken your heels off and you’re sitting on the little couch in his office with your feet tucked under as you survey paperwork. It’s busy work that any intern could do, but you pride yourself on quality, so you insist on triple-checking everything, even if it means staying late. It’s become a sweet little routine, which is why you get so comfortable in Javi’s office when the department clears out for the night.

He realizes that he doesn’t know your relationship status, or Feistl’s, for that matter. He had assumed you were single, as crazy as the thought is. You’re often in his office, working late and he doubts any self-respecting partner would let you stay away so frequently. Maybe it’s wishful thinking on his part. Feistl, on the other hand… Javier knows he has a kid, but not much else about the agent’s personal life. Though, Javi guesses that Chris is probably closer to your age than he is. Less of a dark past, too. Maybe you’d make a good match. He winces at the thought.

"You know Feistl has a kid, right?"

It's the first time Javi has spoken in maybe an hour. You're correcting paperwork, filing documents and trying to align meeting schedules for the next few weeks. Javier is supposed to be poring over financial documents, trying to find a witness who might testify against Miguel.

"Oh, he does? Must be hard being away all the time," you reply, indulging Javier's unusual attempt at small talk with a response.

"I just thought it's something you should know since you and him are... You know," he continues, awkward as anything.

"Me and him are... what?"

"I, uh, heard you guys talking at your desk this afternoon. You're going, um, dancing?" he continues, putting a strange emphasis on the last word.

It takes you a few seconds to catch on to his meaning.

"Javier, do you think there's something going on between me and Chris?" you ask, incredulous.

Javi's eyebrows raise and his eyes widen. It would be comical if it wasn't so stupid.

"I just— I heard you and him talking about going dancing this weekend and, you know, workplace relationships and all that and I just thought I should mention it to you, in case you don't know and now I did so... Yeah. You know." His rambling is bizarre, and out of character, and you can't do much in response except let out a shocked little laugh. He winces at his own inability to string a fucking sentence together.

"Javier. Seriously. I invited Chris to go dancing with me, and the entire office, like we do once a month, and have been doing since we started working here in Bogota. You know, the team building that I suggested we do to build morale, that I invite you to every month, and every month you say..."

"Too much work, maybe next time," he intones, finishing your sentence, still wincing.

"Yup. I'm not going out with Chris, or anyone for that matter. Not that it's any of your business," you sniff.

"Oh," he breathes a sigh of relief, "good," he says, before he can stop himself. You look at him sharply and his brown eyes look a little panicked. "I mean, good that you're not dating Chris because, I guess, dating in the workplace isn't really a good idea," he continues. The plastic pen in his hand looks about to snap.

"Huh," is all you say back, and he knows you well enough to know how dangerous the neutral expression on your face is.

"What?" he says, quickly, defensively.

"I just think it's funny that you're worried about me dating in the workplace like you didn't fuck the secretaries in three different departments back in Medellin.”

"Oh, c'mon," he says your name, "that's different."

"Oh, is it? Different? Because the rules don't apply to Javier Peña, right? So you can break hearts all over the office, and I'm getting fucking interrogated for being friends with my colleague? Is it because I'm a woman, or because I'm an assistant? Is that why it's different, jefe?" you huff, sarcastic and upset.

"You know that's not what I mean. Don't be ridiculous," he replies, and you balk at his tone. He's using the voice he uses on the younger agents, talking down to you like he has any right to do so. All too quickly, you are back in that stuffy office in Medellin, listening to him condescend and patronise you.

"You know what," you stand up quickly, dusting off your skirt, and slipping your heels back on. "Maybe I will go see if Chris wants to go out with me, or maybe I'll ask Van Ness, or anyone I want to, because I can," you march out, forgetting that it's only you and Javier left in the office at this time.

He's up and following you before he knows what he's doing, grabbing on to your arm to stop you. Your skin tingles where he's touching you, especially when he says your name in that soft, dulcet tone.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he says, when you turn around to face him. "I shouldn't have assumed, and I shouldn't have said that. You can date whoever you want, of course you can," he pauses for a second, takes a breath. "Just please don't date Feistl, he's like a short little version of Murphy. It freaks me out," he breathes out in relief when you smile at his stupid joke. He tries not to linger on how tense his chest felt at even the prospect of your ire.

In those early days in Medellin, he would have expected nothing less than your biting sarcasm, your quick, mean retorts. But everything had changed since that day he showed up at your door. Since that day he begged for you. Things had been changing before then, maybe. That night he couldn't forget, no matter how much whiskey he drank, that was the moment things shifted.

"Fine," you say, caught between a smile and a pout, "I won't date Feistl."

He still hasn't let go of your arm, and you still haven't pulled away from him. Javier isn't an idiot, he knows when a woman wants him. And he knows you're attracted to him, just like you know he's attracted to you. His hand slides up your arm to cup your face. The way his thumb strokes your cheekbone is familiar.

"Don't—" he starts to say, before shaking his head. He has no right to you, and yet. You look at him with a question in your eyes. He wants to step back, out of your space, but he can't.

"Don't date anyone," he says, all too aware that he is being possessive, that he has no right to ask anything of you.

You don't step back, or move away. Instead, you take him in. Your eyes are searching, scanning his face for something.

"Why not, Javier?"

The question is so simple. Not for the first time, he curses at his own inadequacy. He wishes he could put it all into words, wishes he could explain this need he has for you. He wishes he could explain the way the smell of your perfume sometimes lingers in his office, the way he craves it when it doesn’t. He wishes he could tell you that you are his best friend, his best asset, the best part of him. He wishes he could explain how you are part of him, how your thoughts and interests and desires have weaved their way into his heart, and now he will always comprise him-and-you. He wishes he could say that you dating someone else would mean not dating him, and that would damn near kill him.

"Because," he says.

"Because?" you prompt him for more.

He hesitates, and the air between you sparkles with possibility. The tension between you and him is familiar, but this feeling – this string between you pulling tight, like it might soon snap – is something you’ve only felt once before.

Javier’s chest is heaving at the intensity between you, and, before you know it, you are leaning up into his space. He is so close that his warm breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks.

“Because I—”

A vacuum cleaner sounds, and you both start, moving away from one another quickly. There, in the dim light of the main office is Imelda, one of your favourite cleaning ladies. She notices you both a moment later, and waves cheerfully, beckoning you over and switching the vacuum off. You glance back at Javier, but he is looking down, one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair. You paste on your smile, and walk over to Imelda.

Javier watches you as you interact with the kind woman, though your Spanish is just passable, and she barely speaks English, you are communicating with such warmth and openness. He smiles, despite himself, despite what he had almost admitted to you. Imelda reaches into her purse and hands you something homemade in a packet, and waves you off so she can continue vacuuming.

Javier is leaning against his desk when you walk the short way back to him, and he doesn’t miss the way your hand nervously clenches and unclenches. He wonders if you even know that you have a tell. You give him a half-smile as you stop in front of him, more distant than you were before, but close enough that he could probably touch you with an outstretched hand.

In your hand is a packet of polvorosas, made by Imelda herself. It makes sense to him that she would give you something, you are more likable than he thinks fair. You’re kind to all staff members, regardless of their rank, and there is something about your self-effacing warmth that inspires gift-giving.

You look up at him, worrying at your lower lip and he is suddenly struck by how little he deserves you. You told him once that you thought he was a good man, but he knows that however good he is, you are a million times better.

“Sorry, you were,” you smile sheepishly, “before, you were saying something.”

He is quiet for a long moment as he regards you, and you feel naked in the warmth of deep brown eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.” He turns back to his desk, sitting and picking up a report with clinical casualness. “We should get back to work.”

He doesn’t dare glance up at you, even as you hover near his desk, where he left you standing. You stand there for a long moment, caught between shock and hurt. And then, you shake yourself out of it, mimicking his nonchalance and picking a report back up. If Javi would have looked at you, he would have seen your hand tremble.

Medellin, 1993. Before.

In the wake of Carillo's death, in that godforsaken barrack room at Carlos Holgúin, Javi is caught somewhere between grief and blinding rage, as he so often is these days. He could hardly stand it, the way loss felt new every time, no matter how many times he'd felt it. He’s angry at Carillo, for failing him, for doing such dark things in war time and leaving Javier alone to sit with it all, for not seeing it through to the end with him. He’s angry at himself, for not stopping Carillo before it went too far. He misses his mother. He hurts for Carillo's wife, for his children, for that poor kid in that goddamn alleyway. Carillo, he had always thought, was the very best of them. Uncompromising, always; going too far, sometimes. If Carillo, imposing and militaristic as he was, could not be a good man, then what chance did little Javier Peña have?

You come to see him after Messina leaves. Ever her opposite, you don't know the right things to say. You don't say much at all, just hover behind him and gesture to his steadily emptying whiskey bottle.

"You in a sharing mood, tonight, Peña?"

He passes the bottle over and watches you, eyes maybe too heavy, as you take a swig and wince at the burn of cheap liquor. You hand it back. He still hasn't said anything. He's not sure there's anything he can say.

You exhale and perch at the edge of the thin regulation mattress, leaning back on your hands as you observe him. Red-rimmed eyes, a full ashtray on the table in front of him and another cigarette, not yet lit, held between his teeth. The silence stretches between you like taffy.

"You gonna say anything, or did Messina just send you in here to stare at me?"

"Messina didn't send me here."

Javier scoffs. "Yeah, I'm sure after months of bein' a pain in my ass that you're here because you care about my wellbeing, right?"

You don't reply. You know when Javier is picking a fight, and you're not in the mood to give in to him, not after the day you've both had. After a few more beats of silence, Javi takes another swig, emptying his whiskey glass. Then he stands up, all sharp, abrupt movements, and lingers where you're seated, handing the bottle back as a kind of fucked up peace offering. You accept.

He's still watching you as you take another sip, and he complies far too easily when you pat the open space beside you and gesture for him to sit. He sighs; it sounds jagged, wrecked.

"Do you think there are any good men?"

If you're surprised by the question, you don't show it. Javier is grateful that you don't show it.

"I think," you hesitate, before carefully continuing, "I think someone's actions, their choices – that's what makes them good. Good intentions, good thoughts, they don't count for much. The good things you do, that’s what makes the difference."

Javi swallows, parsing your answer in his mind. The silence that blankets you both now is less comfortable than before, it is thick with something unsaid.

"Carrillo before he— before what happened tonight, did some things that...” he trails off. “I don't think he was always a good person. He wasn't Escobar, but he hurt people. That story about the child in Medellin, it's true. I was there and I... I let it happen. If Carrillo isn't a good man, then what does that make me?" His voice is thick and watery, weak with pain. His head is bowed, like he's praying or like he’s ashamed.

For the first time since you've met him, Javier seems human, vulnerable. No machismo, no tough mask. It pulls at your heart and tears prick at your eyes. You put the bottle down and touch his arm, feeling the muscle jump.

"Oh, Javier," you breathe out, not sure what else you can say.

He moves quickly, suddenly and you almost think he might kiss you, but he doesn't. He just crumples into your arms, and you hold him, let him pretend he's the one holding you. You stroke the hair on the back of his head as you sit and breathe with him.

"It's gonna be okay, Javi. It has to be," you whisper, voice muffled.

You don’t know how long you sit like that and pretend not to notice the wetness on shirt as he cries into your shoulder. Just as suddenly as he leaned in to you, he sniffs and pulls back, wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. His other hand is still at the small of your back, fisted in your shirt. For a moment, you both just look at each other. Months of bickering in the office hallways, of posturing and competing, pass between you in that look you share. Your throat feels dry.

Your eyes flicker down to Javier's pretty pink lips as his tongue darts out to lick them. You hope he doesn't see your slip, but his eyes have already darkened. He pulls you closer to him with the hand at your back and the other goes to your jaw. For all his fire and intensity, the way he holds you now is tender, almost delicate.

You lean closer just as he does, and he presses his forehead to yours, lips just a breath away. Your eyes flutter closed, so you miss the way his eyes dart over your face like they're searching for something, or committing this to memory. Just as the moment feels like it's lingering a little too long, he kisses you.

Javier kisses you like he needs you, not delicate but not quite vicious either. As he pulls you impossibly closer to him, you wrap your arms around his neck and scratch at the soft hair at his nape. He gasps, and moves his lips against yours with all the intensity he can muster. Somehow, the hand cradling your jaw is still tender, even as he slips his tongue between your lips and you moan at the taste of him. He pulls you into his lap and you grind against him, lost in the feeling of him all around you. His hands are everywhere, running through your hair, grasping at your thigh. The way he kisses makes you feel boundless; overwhelmed and stunned, all at once.

He pulls away, resting his head in the space between your shoulder and neck and mouthing at the skin there. He sighs, hot breath fanning against your neck. His big, warm hand slips under your shirt and runs over the clasp at the back of your bra.

"Need this so bad, querida," he whispers against your skin, and all too suddenly the feelings of the day come back to you.

"J-Javi," you breathe out.

He hums affirmatively against your skin and ruts up a little at the sound of his name. You can't swallow your gasp at his hardness under those tight denim jeans.

"Javier, I— wait. Stop."

His body goes still, fills with the tension that your touch had been soothing away. His voice when he says your name is wrecked, guilty and mournful.

"What's wrong?" he lifts his head from your shoulder, but doesn't dare look up at you.

"I just—" you start to say, cradling his face like he held yours. "I just don't think this is what you need right now, Javier."

He makes a sound, something like a frustrated grunt but dirtier, angrier. Not at you, you don't think. Angry at himself, more likely. He drops his hands to run them through his hair.

"Querida, I want—," he sighs at himself, at the words he can't put together. "I want you."

What he really means is that he knew he was attracted to you the first time he saw you, standing a little behind Messina in that godforsaken conference room, in a work-appropriate dress with sensible heels. He means that he's known he wants to do more than fuck you since that first conversation, where you refused to take his shit, rejected his flirting and put him in his fucking place. He wants to say that he likes the way you don't cower away from him, the way you demand that he deliver his best. The way you look rumpled when you work late, filing the paperwork he and Murphy pile on you unceasingly, without apology. He wants to tell you that he thinks he might be able to fall love with you, one day; in love with the sweet moments he sees when you let up on the sarcastic comments. There is so much Javi wants to tell you, but the words get stuck in his throat. He thinks it might all be too much, that he might be too much, so instead he shakes his head and lets you climb off his lap.

He thinks you're going to leave without another word, until you pause in the doorway.

"I think you're a good man, Javier. You worry about your heart; only good men do that."

He doesn't show up for Carrillo’s funeral. You don't see him again until you almost collide in the hallway at the office. You both pause for a moment, and you take him in. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, his hair is unkempt. You open your mouth to say something, asks if he’s alright, if the whispers around the office about him and Los Pepes are true, but he's already pushed past you.

It isn't until he's boarding the plane back to Texas, away from Colombia, that he lets himself think of your words again. He wishes you were right. He wishes he was a good man. He gives himself a moment to regret the way he acted. He regrets the way he pulled away from you in the weeks after that kiss, getting Murphy to file his paperwork, avoiding the break room on the third floor that he knows you like, not even saying goodbye when he knows he might never see you again. He thought you would be able to sense it on him, the stink of his broken principles, the stench of his betrayal. He regrets everything but the kiss and, even then, he regrets how it happened. You deserve so much better than him at his most broken, him at his weakest. You deserve so much more than him. Javier Peña knows that he isn't a good man, and he refuses to wait around for you to realise it too.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña x ofc #my writing #narcos

45 notes · View notes

freshlyrage · 10 months ago

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 25

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 3.5k

IMPORTANT a/n: I am really sorry, you can start the Mari witch hunt now. Chapter 26 is in the editing stage... message me questions. I've had this exact chapter drafted for about a year. I want to hear your thoughts while we enter the third part of this story.

January 1988 Bogota, Colombia

“You do understand that this is a traumatic event?”

Javier ashes his cigarette with a head shake. His bones are aching and tired and he feels old. Like he’s ready to retire at the peak of twenty six. It’s always warm, it’s humid like the day of his false wedding. No one knows his pain but he’s willing to share it. We need therapy, you told him once.

Look at me, I’m trying.

He doesn’t take the words of his work appointed therapist very seriously but it’s taken him twelve sessions to finally talk about it. The first words other than good afternoon out of Dr. Hertz mouth already frustrates him. It frustrates him more how attracted he is to her. He swears her exact hair color is yours when he left. She sits with a pencil skirt like all the women around the office do. Besides his boss, she’s always in a pantsuit. Skin tan from the Colombian sun, nails always done in a square tip—scribbling in a notebook. That wasn’t like you, the nails. It was rare if you ever had them done, he’d like running his thumb over your nail beds, an odd spot that tickled you. He missed you so badly.

“The situation hurt her the most.”

Dr. Hertz fixed herself a frown and a nod, pen to paper a dry sound that ticked him off. “Take it from the top for me please.”

The night of June 16th 1986

Javier decides to grab his thick work file before he drives to the hotel he wanted to share with you. Sitting in a chair that has housed many sad men like him, he frowns over the case details of pregnant drug smugglers' corpses and child detainments for gun possession. Ashing into a tray that isn’t his.

His head hurts and so does his hand, it’s nerves are short circuiting while he holds himself from calling you. He doesn’t want to think about tonight at all. He doesn’t want to continue to be haunted by Lorraine and the swell at her stomach. Avoiding the thought—that it could be—he abandons it. Instead he buries his nose in cigarette smoke and work for the night, he much rather be buried in the crook of your neck. Inside you, beside you, looking at you, holding you, speaking to you– he just wants you here. He hates to waste time and he isn’t sure why he feels a sick instinct that you maybe have less time then he believes.

He decides to call after his 3rd cigarette. It’s a long shot considering it’s 3 am but he has never been good with self control. He pictures your face as you sleep, he’s watched it despite your pleas to fall asleep alongside you, he likes to watch before he does. You always sleep on your stomach, hands on either side of you like you were tossed in bed, one on his chest and a cheek smushed. You drool, he won’t tell you that but you do. He’s frowning while he dials, you hadn’t told him you loved him back tonight, he wonders what he did wrong. Or if it really just Lorraine.

“Hello?” Your voice is dry and very much awake.

“Andrea.” Is all he can itch out his throat, he isn’t even sure why he called you. Maybe just to hear your voice, that's reason enough right?

“It’s late, baby.”

He thinks maybe he could just hang up now, whatever urge he felt all night had been fulfilled with three simple words in your sweet voice. He closes his eyes fighting an urge to drive back forty minutes to your house.

“Yeah-yeah I know. Just want to hear you before I sleep.”

“Well, you're hearing me. I love you.”

He nods, he knows. It’s his religion, those words leaving you. “Will I be able to see you tomorrow?”

You hold silence for a beat, an exhale beyond the receiver. “Yes, I want to sleep in your bed this time.”

“Okay.” He says pathetically quick, nodding like you could see just how serious he is about spending time with you. You giggle, and he wonders what changed in the last few hours since he left you in the aftermath of your brother's wedding. Maybe you just missed him too.

“Okay. Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

He can't help himself, he just can't.

He says it like a whisper, like it's a secret.

“¿Sabes que te amo, verdad?”

“I know, I just–" You take a second, like you know what you're going to say will hurt him. He can't tell if you're bracing yourself or giving him time do so as well.

"Sometimes I just miss you when you're around and it's tiring to feel like I’m still fighting to keep you."

Colombia 1988

“I couldn't understand that. When we were together each moment felt like she was slipping away from me. I just didn’t know she could feel the same way. I was a present partner.” He sighs, an itch in his molars. A weird tick he gets when he wants to see your face. “I tried to be.”

Dr. Hertz pressed her lips in a firm smile, “It may seem difficult to assess a situation you are so tied to, do you suppose maybe Andrea felt this way because your relationship was on borrowed time?”

“It wasn’t on borrowed time.”

“Maybe borrowed time isn't the correct phrase, but you began the relationship fully aware that you would leave. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t you agree that-that idea could’ve struck a nerve in the insecurities you said she had in relationships.”

“Is this a therapy session for her or for me?” Javier snaps and he isn’t sure why he takes it there, isn’t sure why he says her name so bitterly like you did anything wrong. Dr. Hertz nods, and scribbles with a crease between her brow.

“I have never met Andrea, you are my patient. I want to help you recognize a place we could work together to improve.”

“Alright.” He rolls his jaw for a moment feeling like a scolded child. His eyes flick to the clock. Another half hour left, he wants to head back into his apartment where it’s safe.

“Alright, was it the next morning that you met with Lorraine?”

Javier’s nostrils flare, thinking of her makes him feel physically ill. She says her name and sees your face when he tells you.

“I didn’t meet up with her, I was ambushed.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, the weight of the word feeling useless in this setting. He knows what the word truly means, ambushed, he stood in front of Carillo’s closed casket days after the ambush. “I was caught off guard.” Javier decides to correct himself.

The next morning, June 17th 1986

There is another car in his driveway. A car unfamiliar to him. The sun blares down and he’s already sun tired and he just woke two hours ago. He decides to light a cigarette before stepping up to his front door, still his father holds a no smoking policy in the house.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids burning orange and he drags in his first breath since last night. He wonders if you’d be free for a drive to the lake. You played into his biggest fantasy a few days ago in your tiny bikini, nose nuzzled in your mound. He’d like to do it again.

He could hear the main road 3 minutes down the hill, that and the crackling from his burning cigarette. He flicks his wrist to check the time, strange for his father to have guests at any time of day. Javier shrugged it off with a step on the cigarette butt. He’s been burning through them lately, smoking one for only two minutes. He supposes his habit is now an addiction, he’s good at it at least.

Javier walks up the small steps to his front door to be greeted by his father with a frown. His eyes scan over his father’s body, blocking any view of the inside of the house. His body on autopilot, he hands the car keys to his father like he does every time he comes home. But the air was still and this wasn’t like every time he came home. Javier’s heart dropped to his stomach, a fear that something happened to you. “¿Qué pasó? ¿Quién está aquí?"

“Lorraine and her parents are here.”

Javier shuts his eyes and takes a step back into the porch. Allowing his father to follow him, shutting the screen door behind them. Javier pinches his nose.

“I’m not interested in talking to them. Fuck this.” Javier pats his pockets for the keys he had just given away without thinking.

“You can’t leave this time.”

Javier walks into his home. Feeling like he’s attending a principals conference. His pastor–the father of his ex-girlfriend, her mother and her sat on the couch with solemn faces. Javier nods at both parents, adjusting his collar bundled with nerves. Despite feeling betrayed by his own father, he still will never disrespect guests in the home he built. Javier offers his hand to Mr. Smithfield to which he takes because ultimately he is a christian. He presses a kiss to the cheeks of Mrs. Smithfield and Lorraine. It reminds him of the first time he had dinner at their home. He knew the family his whole life because of church but being introduced as their darling girl's boyfriend was one of the most anxiety inducing moments of his adolescence. He remembers them with the same stone cold faces, ready to devour him whole if he had stepped out of line.

He knew them as powerful people, he knew if he had wronged their daughter he would no longer have any work in town.

So, Javier was quite the wreck.

“Sorry If i kept you all waiting— I was caught off guard.” Javi sits across from them, all scary looking with intense sad stares.

Mr. Smithfield nods, “We knew you wouldn’t have shown if you were given a warning.”

His initial reaction is to rebut, to jump to his feet and tell them they hadn’t had a clue of who he was. It feels like a body shot. Javier hadn’t grown into a full man yet. The comment still triggered the nerve that sends him off on anger infused raves. He thinks of you, and the face you’d make if he did. He realizes that this moment is one he shouldn’t run from, maybe this will be the moment to prove himself to be a better man. For you. It’s wrong but it’s what he thinks.

If he stays here and listens to whatever berating this family has for him, maybe, just maybe, you’ll be proud of him for hearing them out.

So Javier clenches his jaw and allows Mr. Smithfield to speak. “We as parents are concerned for our daughter. Javier— you know we trusted you with her and we see clearly that you took care of her. But—you bolted in her most vulnerable moment.”

Javier furrows his brows, looking into the eyes of Lorraine.

She seems to have been in another room, on another planet. Her icy eyes, the ones he once gazed into with adoration— served him nothing but coldness. He wanted to snap in her face and ask if she was there. Was this a bad dream? He looks to his father once more. Chucho stands at the arm of the couch with his arms crossed. Javier never felt this weak.

Look at me

At least look at me Lorraine.

He assumes this silence as an olive branch for his explanation.

He’s unsure of what he needs to explain but he does anyway.

“Mr… and Mrs.” Javier looks at the both of them, god what scary looking people. “I care for Lorraine, for a long time I loved her but we were too young and too serious. We fell out of love just as fast and— and we stayed together out of convenience for our careers but there were weeks where we didn’t speak to each other. We didn’t have the time or the will to work on it.”

It was the truth. Last year they reached a point where she’d come in without a word, dropping groceries on the counter, ripping off her scrubs, getting into bed and locking the door. A sign that tonight, Javier must sleep on the couch. He stared at the bubbled ceiling, with his bones aching from his oversized limbs making space in the futon. He stared until his eyes burned and wondered what he was doing with his life just at the ripe age of twenty three.

Mrs. Smithfield looks like she’s seen red, like, how dare you not love my daughter? Javier is sure if she’d said those words out loud he’d laugh and send them all to hell. But she doesn’t.

She does not.

Her chin quivers and her nose twitches. Teeth barred like she’s about to let out a profanity but instead, she begins to cry.

“But you have time to get my daughter pregnant.”

Colombia 1988

Javier laughs bitterly. As if the sentence didn’t ruin his life. Here he is whining about it to his beautiful therapist. She frowns, shaking her head. Javier wants the session to end already.

“It was like I died in that living room. The dreams I was just creating stayed there. I was in so much shock I hadn’t even second guessed the accusation.”

She nods with that understanding face of hers, it reminds him a bit of yours.

“It may be important to understand the rest of your story, it may be important to know exactly what you felt after she revealed the news.”

Javier is bothered by the way the doctor says news as if any of it had been truthful.

Javier lights another, Dr. Hertz scribbles a short one. Javier flicks his eyes up to hers as his cigarette burns.

“You keepin’ tally?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm.

She doesn’t smile, “Yes. I am. Please continue.”

Javier stares at her for a moment and it reminds him so much of you it makes him sick. He can’t help but obey.

“Truthfully, I first felt like I regressed. I had been cruising through my life until that moment, losing track of time. I thought… how? I’m just a kid? I felt like I was ten and my dad was sitting me on that same couch to tell me my mom ran off. I was in that same head space. Both times I felt like I was being punished for my actions, both times I felt like an open wound, ”

“You felt like both situations had been karma?”

“Yes. I felt like a human wedge between my father and my mother. My existence had been a bad mark and when she left it was a final message of “look what you’ve done.” Javier’s throat is scratchy and he wishes these things were said to you first but he supposes a professional listener will do. “And I grew up to be so selfish and reckless, reckless with my relationships and with sex. And so abruptly I decided to leave that all behind for Andrea, I started to be safe, caring, a better man. But there I was facing the consequences of my own actions. Look what I have done.”

Look at the mess I made.

Will you still love me? After I have made a mess of all we found sacred?

She nods with a look in her eyes that feels bright, like she was so proud of him for such an articulate and honest answer. He wasn’t sure why today he was being so honest.

“Anyway. I was stumbling over my words asking how she knew— which felt like a shitty question to ask in front of her parents but considering the outcome I guess I was onto something.” Javier pulls his cigarette from his lips with a pulled brow, he’s burning through these far too quickly, he’ll be broke in no time. “She told me she was 5 months which tied me back to being her only sexual partner the entire year of 1985 and some of 1986 you know until I moved away. I just went cold while her family ranted.”

He hears them in his head when he looks at Dr. Hertz. He spares her the details, their time is inching towards the finish line.

“We talked with your father and we know you’re a good young man. We know our daughter was tempted.”

“I don’t see you as a man to abandon his child.”

“Our daughter will not have this child out of wedlock.”

“We are willing to make arrangements swiftly to stifle the talk in our church.”

He sat with his head in his hands. Ears ringing and he felt so fucking guilty for having such a reaction to his own consequences. For being so broken when he wasn’t the person carrying the child, for the woman across from him.

And he knows her family well, he knows that their faith and christianity only stretches so far. He knows about Lorraine’s eldest brother who came out as gay and is no longer seen in Laredo. He knows Lorraine despite their fall out, he knows the stress of image that was placed on her at just six years old. He knows, he held her head as she cried while she spoke about their conditional love. It scares him deep in his soul, he knows and it breaks him. That he’d not only ruin her life but his future child’s life if he doesn’t man up. He knows that the delicate bones in her body move aside for life, a life he had part in creating. He could not–he cannot add to the stress. He sees it in her gaze.

“I know now I was seeing guilt in her eyes. She knew the child wasn’t mine, she took advantage of me. But at the time I saw a girl I had loved, I saw her alone in a room full of people.” Javier leans against the chair. “I was a fucking idiot.”

“You were trying your best.” Dr. Hertz corrects him, “You were deceived, you were young. When you speak of Lorraine you still have room for grace and understanding of her circumstance despite her manipulating you and still, still you give her that grace to be a flawed human . You should apply that to yourself too. “

Javier looks down at his shoes for a moment. His brows pulled tightly together. His chin quivers and he isn’t sure why he feels her words with such intensity. Two weeks ago Javier told Dr. Hertz that the first time he considered therapy was when his ex-girlfriend burst into tears after sex. It was that session she finally pushed to know who Andrea was, Javier spent the bulk of the session smiling. Hertz had been smiling too, last week Javier had been frowning again. He told her about Louisiana. He had beaten himself up repeatedly for the insecurity he placed in your heart, Dr. Hertz hadn’t agreed. She quite unprofessionally called him, an idiot, for being so unkind to himself. “It seems like you were a great person for her, not everyone gets the chance to truly understand their lover.” Javier disagreed, he explained the wedding and how he hadn't felt so detached from you until that moment in the yard.

“That was the last time we were really together as a couple. “

We never really got the chance to be a couple, huh.

Hertz nods, and Javier drops the pregnancy scandal on her like a small footnote in his story.

ThenwesplitbecausemyexmanipulatedmeintobelievingIwasthefatherofherunbornchild.

In one fast jumbled mess between cigarette pulls. Dr. Hertz had thrown her hands in the air, earning him a Javier…

Today he tells his story and it hurts bone deep. Today he couldn't escape the trauma he kept in the corner of his mind during the lonely years in Colombia. Javier pulls himself together, pushing his agony aside to lift his chin. Checking the clock. Five minutes.

“I knew I would have to-I knew I hadn't had a choice. I knew some sort of modern couple co-parenting with step-parents would never fly. They’d send Lorraine and my baby off somewhere I would never find them. I mean, maybe it's different here in Colombia but I’m talking about bible belt American socialites, it was already a travesty to them that a hispanic man got their baby pregnant. I also knew my father would never speak to me again, he gave up everything to be my father. He lost his own wife while he tried to be the best for me, I knew this wouldn't kill her. I knew I wasn't right for her in any way. I caused so much mess in Andrea’s life, this was the only way to leave swiftly and make her hate me. It would be easier that way, if none of this happened she’d be home in Laredo burning for me. I already wasted too much of her life with my antics.” Fuck it, Javier’s cheeks were wet. He had been crying the second he opened his mouth. Rushing to say his peace until next week.

He knows todays your birthday, but he wanted to keep something for himself. He wants to suffer that alone.

“It would hurt her but it wouldn't kill her. They knew I’d go away to Colombia anyway but at least she’ll be wed. I was set to be married two weeks later.”

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

39 notes · View notes

cyansadness · 1 year ago

Text

New Romantics

Anastasia 'Ana' Davis has been uprooted three times in her life. The first time, it was 1942, and her parents decided to immigrate from Bogota, Colombia to Southern California. She was 4.

The second time, it was 1945 and her parents had passed away. She was shipped to an orphanage about 20 miles from Rydell, California. She was 7.

The third time, it was 1946 and she was just adopted by Thomas and Bianca Davis, the richest couple in Rydell. They wanted kids but after a bad miscarriage, Bianca couldn't have any. She thought Ana was sweet. She was eight.

From 8 to 16, Ana assimilated. She learned English, stopped speaking Spanish, and acted like the perfect daughter. Ranked third in her class for academics, cheerleader, tutored struggling students for free, was dating football player, Wally Winslow, and was best friends with resident golden boy, Buddy Aldridge. She was the definition of perfect.

But even perfection starts to crack. And those cracks just keep growing when Ana gets assigned to tutor Nicholas 'Nico' Barrera for English.

Nicholas 'Nico' Barrera was a T-Bird. He was Cuban and lived with his mother Isabel and his older sister Elena. He was smart, no doubt about it, but it's hard to try when no one seems to care.

All of a sudden, Mr. Daniels seemed to care when he assigned Ana Davis, princess of Rydell, to tutor him.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, at 2:15, Ana and Nico were in the library. Studying, learning about everything, including each other. Sparks flew and Ana panicked.

This boy made her feel important, special, that she was something more than her family's name. But they could never be with each other, it would never work.

They thought until Wally broke up with Ana and showed up the next day with Rosemary on his arm. So Ana let herself fall for a boy that could ruin everything she had worked so hard to maintain and she couldn't care less.

Nico and Ana managed to stay a secret for about two months. It wasn't an easy two months. The only people who knew were the T-Birds, Cynthia, and Olivia. They were always careful, making sure no one would know.

You can't plan everything. After unknowingly getting caught by Dot, the next day, Ana arrived at school to a vandalized locker and rumors spread around that Ana slept with the entire Rydell High football team.

So when your reputation is up in flames, you can either run away, embrace it, or give them something new to talk about.

So when you're forced to be perfect for the last 8 years of your life, all that anger bubbles up and it has to go somewhere at some point, right?

Yeah, after a rather brutal fight and a two week suspension, Ana was a new person. A person who was still one of the smartest girls at Rydell but also a person who didn't care about impressing anyone anymore.

Come the 1954-1955 school year at Rydell High brings more drama than Ana and Nico could have prepared for. With drama, comes a group of girls who are sick of how Rydell works against them.

So the Pink Ladies were born.

Anastasia 'Ana' Davis ~ played by Rachel Zegler

"I am not just somebody's girlfriend, I am Anastasia Davis, I don't need his jacket or anybody's jacket to prove my worth in this world. "

Nicholas 'Nico' Barrera ~ played by Marcel Ruiz

"It's the first day Ana. How did you land in McGee's office on the first day?"

Bianca Davis ~ played by Brianne Howey

"Sweet Pea, I love you but you gotta start playing nice. Think about your future."

Thomas Davis ~ played by Scott Porter

"I do hope this year, you will try to salvage the little good reputation you have."

Elena Barrera ~ played by Melissa Barrera

"Please get your head out of your ass before I hit you with this pan."

Isabel Barrera ~ played by Justina Machado

"Mijo, I like her. She's always been good for you."

Alexander 'Xander' Carmine ~ played by Grant Gustin

"You want a drink?"

Lynette Allen ~ played by Aja Naomi King

"Just like your mother, always looking for trouble."

~~~~~

here's the new official intro for new romantics. i did post the original about 6 months before the first chapter came out and there have been a lot of changes in the plot so i deemed it necessary to renew the intro

as always, hope y'all enjoy

@cherrybb-ily here is the first look at your least favorite character in my book

#grease rise of the pink ladies #grease: rise of the pink ladies #rise of the pink ladies #grease rise of the pink ladies fics #jane facciano #olivia valdovinos #cynthia zdunowski #nancy nakagawa #hazel robertson #richie valdovinos #gil rizzo #shy guy rotpl #potato rotpl #buddy aldridge #susan st.clair #oc x oc ship #new romantics (2024)

20 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months ago

Text

This day in history

#15yrsago Latest UK gov’t excuse for suppressing drug policy report: “if we release it, it will be hard to manage the news” https://transform-drugs.blogspot.com/2009/12/transform-foi-vs-home-office.html

#10yrsago Senator Ron Wyden introduces a bill banning FBI backdoors https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2014/12/sen-wyden-puts-forward-a-bill-to-ban-data-backdoors/

#10yrsago Angela Merkel calls for end to net neutrality https://www.thelocal.de/20141204/merkel-speaks-out-against-net-neutrality

#10yrsago Why no one wants to hear from James Watson https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/dec/01/dna-james-watson-scientist-selling-nobel-prize-medal

#10yrsago What military gear did the Pentagon give to America’s cops? https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2014/dec/04/pentagon-finally-details-its-weapons-cops-giveaway/,/a>

#10yrsago AT&T hates telcoms regulations, except when it insists on them https://www.techdirt.com/2014/12/04/ats-regulatory-hypocrisy-proud-display-kansas-where-its-fighting-to-keep-state-broadband-backwater/

#5yrsago UK’s oldest ISP blames DoS attack on attempt to suppress human rights report about West Papua https://www.apc.org/en/news/call-action-defy-internet-shutdowns-and-suppression-political-opinion-online

#5yrsago McKinsey bills the US government $3m a year for anodyne advice from 23-year-old college grads https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-taxpayers-pay-mckinsey-3m-a-year

#5yrsago Mint: late-stage adversarial interoperability demonstrates what we had (and what we lost) https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/12/mint-late-stage-adversarial-interoperability-demonstrates-what-we-had-and-what-we

#5yrsago Owners of Tron: Evolution game can’t play it because of DRM fuckery https://www.vice.com/en/article/the-curse-of-oudated-drm-claims-another-victim-tron/

#5yrsago Apple’s extension of “Activation Locks” to laptops will turn refurbishable electronics into e-waste https://www.ifixit.com/News/34072/apples-activation-lock-will-make-it-very-difficult-to-refurbish-macs

#5yrsago Tiktok took less than a day to settle parents’ lawsuit over spying on their kids https://www.theverge.com/2019/12/5/20997199/tiktok-bytedance-musically-lawsuit-coppa-settlement-children-data

#5yrsago Woman whose vulva was probed by Burbank TSA “officers” who ignored her refusal sues https://professional-troublemaker.com/2019/12/05/california-woman-sues-tsa-for-detaining-her-forcing-her-to-submit-to-groin-search/

#5yrsago Colombians take to the streets in the third general strike in two weeks https://www.france24.com/en/20191205-colombia-duque-general-strike-protest-government-bogota-demonstration-union-student-teacher

#5yrsago Online freedom of expression hits a ten-year low https://www.article19.org/xpa-2019/

#1yrago Pedophiles for Purdue Pharma https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/05/third-party-nonconsensual-releases/#au-recherche-du-pedos-perdue

#pluralistic

5 notes · View notes

archivist-crow · 1 year ago

Text

On this day:

UNCATCHABLES

On February 10, 1907, London, England's Weekly Dispatch reported on an "uncatchable" vanishing man in the town of Winchester. Women of that city gave accounts of having their hands slapped by an unidentifiable assailant. "A mysterious feature of the affair is that the man disappears, as if by magic," said the newspaper.

In February 1909, panic broke out in the streets of Berlin, Germany, when a local newspaper reported that seventy-three women had been stabbed by a similar "uncatchable." The perpetrator was described as "a young man always vanishing." The majority of the victims were not seriously wounded.

In February 1925, documents from Bridgeport, Connecticut, report a "phantom stabber" operating in the town streets, usually in broad daylight, but occasionally later in the evening. Women were attacked in public places such as at the entrance to the library and inside department stores. The wounds were mostly superficial. The New York Herald Tribune carried the story of the phantom's twenty-third victim in thirty months; she was attacked in the department store where she worked, just before closing time. Most of the doors were already locked, and the crowd was being ushered outside when the girl, who was on her way upstairs, had a blade stabbed in her side. The assailant got away without being seen.

Over the winter of 1901, eighty persons, male and female, suffered from stab wounds while walking down the streets of Kiel, Germany. A newspaper reported: "The extraordinary thing about the mystery is that some marvellously sharp instrument must have been used, because the victims do not seem to know that they are wounded until several minutes after an attack. In the winter of 1930, Bogota, Columbia, reported that forty-five persons were hospitalized due to unexplainable stab wounds. In an effort to stop the crime wave, over 200 people were arrested.

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

#on this day #february #phantom stabbings

6 notes · View notes

mitmama · 2 years ago

Text

Bogota, Colombia

Cartagena | Rosario Islands | Bogota | Food & Travel Tips

Bogota is a busy vibrant city of 8 million people. At 8,600 feet high, it’s the third highest capital in the world (after two other Andean capitals), and there’s no city higher up that has a bigger population. (By the way, did you know the Andes is the largest mountain range in the world, covering the west side of almost all of South America? I only just learned.) We were only in Bogota for 1.5 days, so thankfully not much worries about altitude sickness.

Monserrate

From the city, you can see the tall mountains to the west, with a prominent church on top. We found out you can take the Cable Car (called Teleferico) up to the mountain in the afternoons, and the Funicular in the morning, which doesn’t have as good a view. (On Sunday, you can take either.) Unfortunately it was also right around rush hour, and the stop-and-go traffic to and from the ticket office was horrendous.

We went right around sunset, and the view going up the mountain was spectacular. You can see the whole giant city laid out.

From the top of the mountain, you can also see nearby peaks, one with also a church on top.

Botanical Garden

Our kids’ favorite site on the trip was the very cool Bogota Botanical Garden. The domed green houses each presents a different natural environment, such as the rain forest, the dry forest. The kids had fun learning about diverse plants such as the luffa plant. I enjoyed learning about the coca plant, which the indigenous people grew for hundreds of years for a variety of uses, now stigmatized in western world as the source of cocaine.

Plaza de Bolivar

The grand main square in Bogota is well worth a visit. It’s named after Simon Bolivar, the liberator of Colombia, who’s a Venezuelan freedom fighter who also gave his name to Bolivia.

There are impressive buildings all around. Too bad the kids were pretty tired so we didn’t get to stay long enough to check out the historic church to the left. They did enjoy watching the hundreds of pigeons in the square and feeding some.

Gold Museum

The last site we saw was the Gold Museum. It not only has an amazing collection of indigenous people’s gold art and decoration, but also a very helpful explanation about the technical, cultural and spiritual perspectives on gold.

Colorful Street Art

We stayed in the historical district, La Candelaria. It’s a colorful neighborhood with impressive street art.

I chose the location for the closeness to key sites like Plaza de Bolivar and Gold Museum. Note it’s very busy with stop-and-go rush hour traffic, and a bit dirty... not for everyone.

Read on for more about Colombia food and travel tips.

#bogota #colombia #south america #latin america #andes

2 notes · View notes

planetdiaries · 23 days ago

Text

gratitutos infinitos

Today I am over the clouds. Flying back home giving an end to my 130 days venture to the land of Latin America for the third consecutive year. 47 meetings in 17 different cities across 14 countries, countless people I dream together. Blessed I am that I feel a citizen of this planet regardless my passport, that which ever country I cross into, I have friends that welcome with arms wide open. My deepest gratitute to all those who with their friendships made me feel home at the far away corners of this continent. Ishqualla , amiga de mi corazon thank you so much for the few days you made me a part of your beautiful life in @laecovilla . Your joy, compassion and love travelled throughout the continent with me. Costa Rica climbed up on the top of my list thanks to your company. Canım Ayşe @ayskocak though I couldnt be your guest this time in Bogota, we have had our beautiful day together. Thank you always forever. Oh the great community at @ecoatlantida I shall pronounce more than a dozen names. Thank you all for making me feel a part of your beautiful community during and at the aftermath of the vision quest in Cali. Y particularmente Abuela Ana Maria, gratitutos infinitos por toda su sabiduria y amor que juntan esta comunidad tan hermosa. Putumayo, the land of the Amazonas. Taitas Pablo, Antonino and Gabriel who share the wisdom of their ancient traditions rooted into the plant medicine and all the courageous companions I met during ceremonies. Munay Love, incredible how it turns out we were born on the same day of August 26th, and no surprise you became a soul sister to me. Infinite gratutitute for our time near Quito looking for your new home, enjoying the termales, the music, and mostly our pure-selves we have chosen to show each other that laid the strong foundation for a lifelong friendship. You deserve the best! Mervecim how lucky we now have in our memories together a little hiking trip in the Ecuadorean Andes! The Tierra-Langla @tierralangla community! What an inspiring living space you have made out there next to glorius river Cañate.

Mattias, Hermano, thank your for your presence. For the third time this year in Chile we share a few days equal to years in depth. Your unconditional love towards the homeless humans and dogs is an inspiration all together, you know it right? Quirijin. Oh brother! Your joy and friendliness is just a great gift for anyone. Thanks for hosting me in your beautiful country house in los Lleques, Chile. I feel like I am visiting my brother each time. How you manage so many things while living that easy life in that beautiful valley is just amazing! Angela, amiguita, it was a brief meeting this time but better than never. Looking over the city of Talca, catching up with life. May our friendship flourish. Kerem, bro, has been over 30 years, another 30 years and you know I will be next to you wherever you happen to end up. While fresh our memories from 2 years ago crossing Bolivia until the Chile border, how lucky we could add one more to our road trips cruising throughout Grand Chaco from Asuncion, Paraguay to Santa Cruz Bolivia! I have no doubts you will always take great care of those lovely kids Wayra Meryem and Alex Bora, meanwhile remember for that, you need to take even better care of yourself! Santiago. Nothing is a coincidence my friend. I wouldnt have returned to Medellin for a few more meetings if it werent you. If we spend so much of our times dedicating to doing our work we shall have people around us whom we would have no doubts take as friends. Bertan, Selda, Octavio, gracias amigos. And Bertan, abrazos for the close guidance you have been providing in my dedicated path into climbing up to my self summit in the last three years in Colombia. You surely are one of my guardian angels. My most dedicated companion all along this trip has been my sacred altar and my kriya. In the lonely hotel rooms, many nights and early mornings whilst following my breath I repeated after my favourite guru, "I am not this body, I am not even this mind." Sadhguru's Inner Engineering program have probably taken the most space in the second half of my trip, reaching out as a saviour to realize the top aim of this trip that I set out early at my beginning:

To feel grounded, maintain equilibrium despite being constantly on the move.

All the other names that didnt make into here, it is not my memory, I remember and appreciate each one of it, those with whom we shared a circle, we exchanged tobacco, we have had meals or drinks or took a bus or flight together, exchanging small or big talk and even at times just a smile that made my day. Neslihan, Jankely, Lora&Lila, Ece, Emre, Rasul, Linea, Andrea...⚘️🙏 Today I am over the clouds. Flying back home. But more because I feel blessed. I feel loved. I feel guarded. I feel infinite gratitute. Thank you. In Lakech, A-la kin. I am another you. You are another me.

0 notes

swldx · 6 months ago

Text

BBC 0411 13 Oct 2024

12095Khz 0358 13 OCT 2024 - BBC (UNITED KINGDOM) in ENGLISH from TALATA VOLONONDRY. SINPO = 45334. English, dead carrier s/on @0358z then ID@0359z pips and newsroom preview. @0401z World News anchored by Neil Nunes. § Kamala Harris has released her medical records, which concluded she is in "excellent health" and fit for the presidency. Following the disclosure, the Democratic Party's nominee to be the next US president accused Donald Trump of a lack of transparency over not releasing his own health records. § Former President Donald Trump held a rally in Coachella, California, on Saturday night, in which he focused heavily on immigration and the crisis at the southern border. § Israeli airstrikes on villages in Lebanon killed at least 15 people on Saturday, according to Lebanon’s health ministry. The strikes targeted areas outside Hezbollah’s traditional strongholds, raising concerns about escalating violence in regions not typically affected by the ongoing conflict. § A UN peacekeeper has been wounded in southern Lebanon after being hit by gunfire, the UN Interim Force in Lebanon (Unifil) has said, the fifth member of the multinational force to be injured in recent days. Israeli forces have urged UN peacekeepers to leave their positions. A spokesperson for Unifil said on Saturday that there had been a "unanimous decision" to stay in the border region. On Friday, the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) acknowledged that its troops were responsible for an incident in which two Sri Lankan soldiers, also in Naqoura, were injured. § Scotland's former first minister Alex Salmond, who led the SNP for a total of 20 years and pushed for the 2014 independence referendum has died aged 69. Many in the political world and beyond, including King Charles, have been paying tribute. § A Colombian guerilla group on Saturday urged delegations not to attend the COP16 biodiversity summit beginning in the southwestern city of Cali on October 21, after Bogota launched a military offensive against the rebels. § More than 1.6 million people in Sao Paulo were without power on Saturday more than 16 hours after a brief but powerful storm swept through South America’s largest city. § Baba Siddique was shot dead in Bandra (West), Mumbai, on October 12, 2024, as he left his office. Two suspects, Gurmail Baljit Singh and Dharmaraj Rajesh Kashyap, have been arrested, while a third suspect remains at large. The Mumbai Crime Branch is investigating the incident under multiple legal provisions. § Scientists have confirmed that the remains of the legendary explorer Christopher Columbus have been found after 500 years. The DNA tests also reveal that he was of Jewish heritage. @0406z "The Newsroom" begins. Backyard gutter antenna w/MFJ-1020C active antenna (used as a preamplifier/preselector), JRC NRD-535D, 250kW, beamAz 315°, bearing 63°. Received at Plymouth, MN, United States, 15359KM from transmitter at Talata Volonondry. Local time: 2258.

0 notes

allthenewzworld · 7 months ago

Text

"This has been a dream of so many of us for so long."

North Korea achieved a record-equalling third tournament victory in the Fifa Under-20 Women's World Cup on Sunday, beating Japan 1-0 in the Colombian capital, Bogota.

The team stormed their way through the tournament, beating the likes of Argentina, the Netherlands and Brazil en route to the semi-finals.

17-year-old Choe Il-son, who scored the only goal in the final, was named player of the match and won both the Golden Boot and the Golden Ball - which is awarded to the World Cup's best overall player.

The win is even more notable given the country withdrew from global sporting competition for several years due to the Covid pandemic.

Tap the link in our bio to find out when North Korea last won the title.

(📸 Getty Images)

#northkorea #allthenewz

0 notes

stateofsport211 · 1 year ago

Text

📸 ATP official website

The most anticipated all-Brazilian clash in this week's Challenger finals had Joao Fonseca, who came back from the brink to stun second seed Roman Andres Burruchaga 7-6(5), 1-6, 6-3 in last night (local time)'s semifinals, facing eighth seed Gustavo Heide, who also defeated first seed Juan Pablo Varillas 6-4, 6-2 later that night. For G. Heide, this will be his second Challenger-level final after the Bogota Challenger last year, where he had to withdraw due to sickness, but the maiden singles Challenger title for either player was on the line, especially with everything likely coming down to the execution of their shots, given the similar margin and approach between them.

Already in the first game, likely while simultaneously overcoming nerves, G. Heide broke early to 1-0 a point after his forehand winner, but he had to resolve a shoelace-related chaos right afterward. He then consolidated with a lead to 2-0 thanks to his preceding drop shot/volley to J. Fonseca's topspin backhand error, highlighting the efficacy of his drop shot in this match. J. Fonseca then held his serves to 2-1, but somehow was down a double break in a game where his overdone forehands became prevalent.

However, things started to brew as the first set went on. J. Fonseca started to regain his range after firing a cross-court forehand winner all the way before he broke to 4-2, consolidated to 4-3 afterward. Somehow, even though G. Heide held his service game to 5-3, J. Fonseca managed to produce a break point thanks to his preceding backhand down-the-line to G. Heide's overdone forehand, which was foiled points before the hold. G. Heide then earned his chance to serve for the first set, but J. Fonseca gained his moment after firing a post-tweener volley when even his cross-court forehand did not finish the rally at the third point, paving the way for the eventual break (5-5), which occurred points after he saved G. Heide's set point and several points later through a cross-court forehand winner.

Subsequently, J. Fonseca had to deal with slightly deeper returns from G. Heide, one of which backhands caused the former to err his third-shot forehand at the second point several moments before the latter broke back again due to the double fault (6-5). As a result, G. Heide had another chance to serve for the first set, where he produced a +1 drop shot for his set point prior to completing the 0-hold, followed by an ace to secure the first set 7-5.

#atp world tour #atp tour #atp challenger #atp challenger tour #tennis updates #hot shots #break point #set point #asuncion challenger #paraguay open dove men+care #legion sudamericana #gustavo heide #joao fonseca #WatchChallengersFolks #ChallengerMatters

0 notes

occupyhades · 1 year ago

Text

Operation Deimos: The Abyss of Behemoth

Operation Deimos keeps track of the Agents of Behemoth: The Backstabbing Parasites of Corporate Personhood.

A wicked person listens to deceitful lips; a liar pays attention to a destructive tongue. Proverbs 17:4 (NIV)

You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell? Matthew 23:33 (NIV)

We are like streams and lakes after the water has gone. Job 14:11 (CEV)

And I heard the altar reply: “Yes, Lord God Almighty, true and just are Your judgments.” Then the fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and it was given power to scorch the people with fire. And the people were scorched by intense heat, and they cursed the name of God, who had authority over these plagues; yet they did not repent and give Him glory. Apocalypse 16:7-9 (BSB)

The floodwaters have risen, O LORD; the rivers have raised their voice; the seas lift up their pounding waves. Psalm 93:3 (BSB)

And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne. And there were open books, and one of them was the Book of Life. And the dead were judged according to their deeds, as recorded in the books. Apocalypse 20:12 (BSB)

And if anyone was found whose name was not written in the Book of Life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. Apocalypse 20:15 (BSB)

#climate change #drought #sea level rise #global warming #greenwashing #wildfires #judgement #damnation

0 notes

wtfcraigslistnyc · 2 years ago

Text

THE LEGEND OF THE COKE HAMMER

The fabled "coke hammer." Duk Park, A bold young man from SEOUL.

Brought into this world of humble beginnings took a bold and prolific journey to Bogota Columbia in 1981.

Upon his arrival he procured a mighty rock of pure, white Columbian marching powder. A rock of such magnitude that he knew it would bring great wealth, as well as the lust of many naughty men and women…

A debaucherous and curious object right in front of his perfectly spherical eyes. He gasped desperately for a breath of air into his lungs before the ASPIRIN tasting venom would roll through his Larynx and command his taught body to move.

Javier gazed at him loving across the table. It takes a man of such deep courage such as his dear brother to take on this 5 KILOGRAM magnet of peril.

The world would not know no rest dreaming of this unicorn of pure rock cocaine MAGIK.

Javier rose to his mighty wooden throne. The very same chair he had sat back and made untold billions over the years. As he rose, Duk rose as well.

The two men gazed intently into each other's eyes. Seconds felt like years. Moments became hours and weeks changing heart beats with nothing but the mighty coke rock between them.

"MY FRIEND... DUK. Allow me to break you off a piece of the fruit of my life's work, so that you too may know the excruciating passion that lies deep within my quivering loins."

Duk's deep, dark, brown eyes pursed up tight in focus…

JAVIER was holding an Uzi in one hand, and his bulbous throbbing member in the other..

Duk in his classic commanding tone addressed.

"Most honorable and venerable Javier. I have come a great distance to see this mighty rock of pure Columbian pedigree. Not to see your penis. If it's ok I would prefer to not gaze at your member any longer. Kindly return your snake to his home in your trousers."

To which JAVIER replied,

"My most humble apologies, for I was holding it. May I indulge you with taste.?"

To which DUK replied,

"Allow me. I have brought a special tribute to you."

DUK reached down and lifted a magnificent leather briefcase. He meticulously entered the combination into the shiny golden locks. The case clicked open with sound not dissimilar the sound a Mesai warlord greets his third wife and the second day of the week, two quick, crisp clicks… and a low murmur…

From the bold black case Duk produced a gleaming stainless steel hammer. It shined so brightly that both of them averted their curious eyes to the floor.

Duk spoke in voice that commanded respect,

"I traveled deep into the dark heart of my country. I sought out a man pure of mind and spirit. I brought the purest piece of iron ore I could pull from Mount Chang Yi with my own two hands. For seven days I sat in scilence watching the master at work. Sweating, toiling over this black as night steel block of steel. On the 7th day the master who spoke not a word raised his hammer to anvil with grave and brutality and presented me with this gift offer to you today. This my friend, is a tool worthy of dispatching this meteor of malicious motivation.

This is the COKE HAMMER.

DUK fell to his knees like a subordinate knight before his king. He raised the gleaming chrome hammer high above his head. Hot tears of pride rolled over his face..

JAVIER, unable to respond to this humble yet gentile act, arose from his seat and looked down upon this man of courage and vision.

"Duk, my brother. You pay me an unspeakable tribute today before GOD and the entire WORLD. Do you not feel shame or sadness? You are a giant who looks down upon the masses as though they were but tiny insignificant ants. Please stand, it would be my honor for you to swing this sacred COKE HAMMER so that we may both know its power."

DUK burst into a wailing tone similar to a child that has been scolded with hot tea.

Then gasped desperately for a breath and rose reluctantly to his feet. Eye to eye, then once again locked their gaze.

"Ok, it is time," DUK said.

"Please my friend, do me the extreme pleasure."

DUK's gaze turned determined, struck with conviction.

He picked up the COKE HAMMER and raised it triumphantly above his head.

"Let's fucking do this!!!!!!!"

He brought the arc of the hammer down with such intent that Javier gasped,

"My friend be careful,"

But it was too late.

Brilliant chromed hammer violently smashed into soccer ball size rock of cocaine with an ear shattering crash.

DUK grit his teeth as hard as he could, struggling with all the strength that he could muster.

"Dios mio!!!"

JAVIER exclaimed. The mighty coke rock was shattered into a million little pieces. The brilliance of its pedigree soiled….

Javier in a kind of animal rage began to scream at the top of his lungs.

"You stupid son of a bitch!!!

I present you the product of my life's work, so you can come here and smash it with that stupid fucking COKE HAMMER!! You offend me beyond words!!!"

DUK raising his head from the table with eyes aglow like a lion in the bush sizing up the infuriated COLUMBIAN.

He noticed the PENIS, and the UZI were back JAVIER’s hands.

"You are a piece of shit JAVIER! I will show you the same mercy you have shown to your own god forsaken people!"

With that DUK turned and stepped toward JAVIER with jaguar-like fluidity.

He pushed JAVIER back a full step with his right hand and swung the mighty COKE HAMMER with his left. The shiny steel hammer created a brilliant arc and flash of light as DUK sent it hurtling toward JAVIER’s robust, jet black mop.

In a split second JAVIER utter a desperate last statement,

"NO NO NO PUTO PINCHE FUCKING PUNO TERO!!"

But alas, The chrome COKE HAMMER crashed into his forehead. Blood and bone exploded from his head as though he had a load of dynamite in his skull.

DUK, covered in a macabre mix of COCAINE, BLOOD, BRAINS and BONE. Stood motionless staring at the headless body of the still erect JAVIER MEDINA JR.

The DECAPITATE side of spent up human meat collapsed into the flaccid orange, fire-baked tile floor. A geyser of plasma spilled all over the floor.

DUK dove his BLOOD and COKE smartened face back into the pile of crimson clotted perfection and slowly gasped for precious life giving air…

He lifted his head and let out a triumphant scream.

A scream that was hard wired into his genetic formula.

FIN

0 notes

jsbmarketresearch01 · 2 years ago

Text

Mirabai Chanu Has Her Goals Set on 90kg Snatch at Weightlifting in Asian Championship 2023

The weightlifter Mirabai Chanu turned the tables in her favor in December where she won a medal at World Championships despite her weakened left wrist. This was her second medal in the championships at the international level. Her first win was the silver in Bogota, where she beat a Chinese lifter. Now the winner of the 49kg Tokyo Olympics silver medalist has her eyes set on winning the 90kg mark in the Asian Championships, which starts on Wednesday at Jinju, South Korea. Chanu won bronze in Tashkent when she last competed in the 2020 continental championships.

And she was runner-up to Hou Zhihui (Olympic gold) and Jiang Huihua (third gold at the World Championships in December at Bogota) of China. It was in Bogota that Mirabai was ahead of Hou, the latter winning the third spot. However, in the upcoming Paris Olympics qualifier at Jinju meets, the three-way content will hold a lot of excitement in the realm of sports. Mirabai said she is looking forward to the Asian Championships as for a few years, lifting 90kg has been the goal.

The best snatch in her career is for 88kg. She lifted this weight twice at Birmingham Commonwealth Games last year and the National Championships in Kolkata in 2020. In the 2020 Asian Championships, Chanu has her world record of 119kg, her best result in clean and jerk. Mirabai said that her goal is to lift 200kg in total as it will be ideal to put her in a medal position. She intends to get to the 90kg category win as it has been a bother for some time, and Chanu wants to get this done for sure.

However, she said that in weightlifting sports, the way your body behaves at the moment and day is what the situation depends on. It has been 5 months since Chanu faced her last competition. She is recovering from her left shoulder and left wrist injuries. She said that her left shoulder is weaker than the right one. And for this, her left wrist has to compensate by working harder. And this is the reason for the left wrist injury at the Worlds. For her rehabilitation, the US-based weightlifter, Dr. Aaron Horschig who is now a strength-and-conditioning expert to help.

The two have undergone virtual sessions for the last few months. Continuous monitoring of Chanu’s health at rehab was done by one of the students of Horschig in February after arriving at the NIS (National Institute of Sports), Patiala. Chanu appreciated assistance from Dr. Horschig as she said that it gave her access to her true potential and the recovery of pain in the right corner of the back and left shoulder was why she succeeded at the Olympics.

Dr. Horschig depends on exercises to give relief from pain, and this is what she likes about his method. Mirabai said that every person has a different technique and body. There is no promise that an individual can lift 90kg despite a fully fit body. The audience can think that she can easily lift 90kg as she did lift 88kg. But the small difference in weight, even if it is a kilogram, makes a world of difference. After all, there are instances of people losing Olympic medals because of a difference of 1kg. In her training, Chanu can lift 89kg.

As for the world record, it was set by Hu in April 2021 of lifting 96kg in the Tashkent Asian meet. For Mirabai, it gives a boost to her confidence in participating in the championships, and defeating the Chinese was not a reason for her mental block. She said not to believe something until the moment you finally do it, and she knew she could be beaten. So, her focus is to meet her goals than taking down the Chinese. Chanu said that it does not mean anything is guaranteed in this sport. Though last time she won the gold, it does not mean it will happen the same this time.

But the approach toward the competition is to be positive about the achievement and to think about it. So, her goal is to clinch a win in the 90kg category and for this, she has worked on her endurance and speed. She can lift 80-85% of her capacity, for now, every day at the training. This indicates she is preparing well for the content. And wishes that her checklist of 90kg category win also take place if God is willing.

Visit here for more sports news: - https://jsbmarketresearch.com/sports

Facebook: - https://www.facebook.com/JSBMarketResearchGroup

YouTube: - https://youtube.com/shorts/eDr47FfzArQ?feature=share

Instagram: - https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cru0l2no1qZ/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Twitter: - https://twitter.com/JSBMarket/status/1653294487354089472?s=20

LinkedIn: - https://www.linkedin.com/posts/jsbmarketresearch_mirabaichanu-weightlifting-asianchampionships-activity-7059059497289326592-uwut?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop

Pinterest: - https://pin.it/4vwUfJq

#MirabaiChanu #Weightlifting #AsianChampionships #ParisOlympicsQualifier #IndianSports #SportsNews #OlympicsTokyo2020 #IndiaAtAthletics #StrengthTraining #SportsAchievements #WomenInSports #WomenPower #jsbmarketresearch

0 notes

guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years ago

Text

8 Days of Christmas — Christmas Always Makes Me Cry

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, angst, javi being homesick, talks of crime, violence, other shit that comes w/ being a dea agent, alcohol consumption, strangers in a bar trope, blowjob, filthy!javi, cunnilingus, ass eating, dirty talk, soft!ending)

word count: 2.5k

8 Days of Christmas Masterlist

It was Christmastime in Bogota, Javi finding himself far away from the comfort and familiarity of Laredo for the third consecutive year—though at this point, Bogota had become more familiar to him than his hometown.

It was summer in Colombia, the heat making him feel all the more distant from the holiday as he washed off the sweat and grime built up from a hard day chasing down sicarios they never could seem to catch. In a way, he felt appreciative for the sweltering air outside—it gave him the opportunity to pretend as though Christmas didn’t exist, and therefore he didn’t have to feel guilty about missing yet another holiday with his father.

But he did miss him. No matter how hard he tried to push the longing out of his head, he missed his dad.

Every year, Chucho and Javi would be sent off by his tias and tios to collect at least five different Christmas trees, the two men helped by a couple generous cousins. They’d drive over to the town’s farm and pack the trees in the back of their trucks before delivering them to each of the Peña households, their payment typically being tamales and, if they got lucky and picked a particularly good tree out, a cerveza.

His family celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve, as most other Mexicanos did in this part of the country at least. Javi never really did know the reason why—it’s just what they did.

Chucho and Javi rarely spent a Christmas at their own home, the two-story ranch house full of too many memories of Christmases past when his mother was still around to make the holiday feel right. Since her passing, it just felt easier to leave and head over to one of Chucho’s sister’s houses, the crowded, loud, and busy nature of the home providing the perfect distraction for their grief.

But now Javi was left to do his grieving alone, this job of his becoming less of a career and more like a lifestyle with each passing day.

Though he truly didn’t regret going into this line of work—helping people had always been his strong suit—it would be a lie to say that there were days, weeks, months even that he found himself buried beneath the violence and death he witnessed while trying to put these bad guys away. The old Javi, the one that his father and tias knew, was hard to find through the layers of thick skin and numbness he needed to build up in order to survive.

Even if he made it back home for the holidays, he wasn’t sure his family would even recognize him anymore, which hurt him in a way he wouldn’t dare to acknowledge. Not right now, at least.

Needing to blow off some steam, Javi chose to head out to one of the bars catered to tourists and Americans who couldn’t speak a lick of Spanish, hoping to find someone so far removed from everything here in Colombia that suffocated him to take home for the night. While he thoroughly enjoyed his usual exploits here—DEA secretaries and informants, typically—they were all too close to everything he was trying to forget.

“Whiskey,” he ordered once he walked up to the bar, his head turning to the side to scan the room for anything that caught his eye, coming up short in this unusually packed room full of mostly elderly people escaping the northern cold.

When the glass of amber liquor was set in front of him, he paid and tipped the bartender before picking his glass up, taking a full-mouthed swig in hopes of numbing the constant stream of anxious thoughts running through his mind.

One drink turned to four as the hours passed by, the nagging voice inside finally hushed as he continued to watch everyone else have a good time, but no amount of liquor could cure the loneliness he felt deep inside. In fact, he was pretty sure nothing in the world could cure it. He was bound to feel this way forever.

“I’m serious! We went out for a drive and I swear to god I saw a car shot up with bullet holes,” one of the clearly well-off grandmothers beside him recounted to her group, earning a scoff of disbelief from the man beside her.

Javier had never wanted ear plugs more in his life as he sat listening to these out of touch and over-privileged Americans detail how much fun they were having here “exploring the culture”. If only they had any fucking clue that real people lived in this country and had to deal with this shit on a daily basis, maybe that would have removed the smile on their faces, but he doubted it.

“That gonna be it, sir?” the bartender asked, bringing Javi’s eyes forward. Javi held his finger up to gesture for one more drink, hoping that by some act of fate, the woman he’d been hoping for would walk in and help take some of this weight off his shoulders.

With the door opening, Javi turned to look over at the new patron and found his lips parting in surprise. Perhaps the universe was listening after all.

He watched as you walked in, your face scrunching up at the amount of people packed into the bar, a sigh leaving your lips as you weaved your way to the empty spot beside him at the bar. Between your natural beauty and the clear scowl on your face, Javi felt sure that he’d stumbled upon the only other Scrooge in Bogota.

Finding his courage, he managed to clear his throat and gesture to his glass.

“Can I get you one?” he asked, watching you as your eyes flickered to his as though you weren’t sure that he was talking to you.

“Me?” you questioned with a quirked brow, earning a chuckle and a nod. The bartender turned his eyes from Javi to you, awaiting yo ur order. “Uh, yeah. Gin and tonic.”

“I, uh, I’ve never seen this place so packed before,” Javi spoke, the liquor in his system forcing his voice into a huskier tone than usual.

“Yeah, it’s usually dead,” you replied, taking a look around the room before sneaking a glance at him, impressed by his handsome profile as he took a sip of his whiskey. “Must be the tourists escaping the cold.”

“That what you are?” he asked, setting his glass down and looking back to you. You felt your cheeks heat as his eyes bounced across your features with an intense admiration.

“Uh, no, I teach english lit at the University of Bogota,” you informed with a small smile. Javi nodded as though he was proud of you, widening his smile just a bit.

“Impressive.”

“What about you? You here for the season or do you live here?” You noticed the way he tensed a bit at the question and hoped you hadn’t crossed a boundary. Picking up your drink, you decided to take a few needed sips to loosen you up a bit, your nerves clearly still in control.

“I, uh, live here. For now, at least.”

“Oh yeah? Where to next?” you pressed, watching as he weighed his head to the side and shrugged.

“Hopefully back home,” he replied, cracking a somehow sad smile that brought a frown to your face.

“Why hopefully?”

Because I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out of here alive, he wanted to reply.

“It’s…a long story that i’m not allowed to tell you even if i wanted to.” He flashed you a winning smile before holding his hand out. “I just realized I haven’t caught your name.”

You smiled as you slipped your hand into his and told him your name, pleased by the warmth of his palm and how his fingers encompassed your entire hand.

“Javi,” he gave you his name and you whispered it back to him, watching as he nodded in confirmation. “Sounds better when you say it.”

You blushed and rolled your eyes playfully y his compliment. “Well, Javi, what brings you to a bar on Christmas eve? Sú mujer le molesta?” [Your wife bothering you?]

He chuckled. “¿Ves un anillo en mi dedo?” [Do you see a ring on my finger?]

“Figured you took it off,” you shrugged, the liquor in your system turning you playful.

“No, no wife at home nagging at me,” he finally answered your question, bringing his glass to his lips. “What about you? Escaping somebody?”

“Escaping everybody,” you replied with a groan. “Tonight was our work party, and I walked in, took a look around, and walked right back out. Figured getting drunk in a room full of strangers was better than a room full of coworkers.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes flickering to your lips. “Sometimes it’s easier to be with a stranger. You can be whoever you wanna be.”

“And who would you like me to be for you, Javi?” you purred, reaching your hand over to trail a finger up his forearm. Javi’s breath hitched but he quickly recovered, placing his hand on top of yours and intertwining your fingers.

“Just yourself,” he replied, hardly audible over the loud chatter and ambience of the bar.

“Ah, fuck,” Javi had one hand on the back of your head, the other gripping the sink behind him as you took him deep in your mouth. Sinful slurps and glucks filled the single stall restroom at the bar, your eyes wide with tears falling down your cheeks as you bobbed up and down on his cock like you were determined to win a trophy. “So fucking pretty like this, cariño. Gonna make me cum quick.”

You lived for his praise, his husky rasp like music to your ears as you reached to cradle his balls, determined to get him across the finish line in record time. Javi’s neck strained as he tossed his head back, gulping down the strangled moans both of you wished he could let spill freely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warned looking down at you with a crease between his brows, s look of awe on his handsome face as he watched you stroke him in time with your slurps and sucks. “Fuck, fuck, fuuu-uck!”

Javi’s coco pulsed as you took him deep into your throat, his lips forming an ‘o’ as he watched you swallow his entire load with ease.

“Jesus fucking Christ, come here,” Javi pulled you onto your feet and kissed you without care of the saliva and cum that remained on the corners of your mouth, his neediness driving you wild. You tossed your arms around his neck and kissed him back with just as much fervor, Javi’s hands reaching for the hem of your dress and lifting it up over your ass. “Bend over. Wanna eat your pussy.”

“Fuck,” you whined and did as he requested, bending over the sink while he positioned himself on his knees behind you. You looked into the mirror, staring at your fucked out state as Javi tugged your panties down your thighs and spread your cheeks to get a good look at your glistening heat.

“So fucking pretty,” he praised before leaning in and licking a broad stripe from your clit to your puckered hole, pulling a gasp from your lips. “And you taste fucking good.”

“Shit, Javi,” you breathed out and reached your hand back to hold his head against you. Javi growled and began his work, lapping at your clit until it swelled before running his tongue all the way up to your ass and back down again. Your thighs shook as you kept yourself upright, your eyes unable to watch yourself anymore as you could hardly keep them open, his tongue pressing into your cunt wiping all coherent thought away. “So good…so fucking good, Javi.”

Javi wrapped his lips around your throbbing clit and started to suck, obscene sounds filling the room again as he spit on your cunt just to slurp it all back into his mouth and do it again.

“Your pussy tastes so good, I could eat you for hours, cariño,” he praised before pressing his tongue to your tighter hole while he circled your clit with two fingers, threatening to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum, baby? Tell me so I can lick it all up. Wanna taste everything you have to give me.”

“Fuck, Javi!” you whined, guiding his head lower to your cunt again as your high began to dawn, Javi’s lips replacing his fingers as he started to suck on your clit again, the pulsing sensation finally pushing you over the edge. “Javi, I’m coming! Fuck!”

“Yes,” he growled against you, sliding his tongue to your entrance to drink you down while you convulsed against the sink counter.

Once your walls ceased their fluttering, Javi stood up, tucking his cock back into his jeans before sliding your panties back up and pulling the hem of your dress down. He helped steady you as you turned around, your hands on his face tugging him down for a searing kiss.

“You wanna come back to mine for the night?” he asked breathily against your jaw, palming your ass as he held you close.

You bit your lip and shook your head, feeling him frown against you. “Sober me wouldn’t be proud of me for going home with a stranger on the first night. No matter how handsome or talented he is.”

“Understandable,” he chuckled against you, his lips now on your neck leaving tiny kisses all over. “I’d like to you see you again, though. Got any Christmas plans?”

“Si, con mi gato,” you replied with a playful grin. “You could come and join us, if you want. I bought a ham and some sides for dinner. Wouldn’t mind sharing it with a handsome stranger.”

“Maybe then you wouldn’t see me as a stranger anymore,” he suggested, pulling back to look down at you. “I’d like that. Might have to take an allergy pill but, for you, it’s worth it.”

“I’ll tell my cat to leave you alone,” you chuckled, stroking over his mustache. “I’m glad I came out tonight. You really made my holiday better, Javi.”

“I can’t tell you just how much I agree,” he smiled and kissed you again. “C’mon, stranger. There’s probably a line of old people outside waiting to scold us for taking so long.”

“Gotta fix this first,” you gestured at your face, your mascara running and lipstick smudged over your chin. Javi shrugged as he took a good look at your fucked out state.

“I think it’s a good look.”

taglist: @infesstisssumam @outlawedmando @suttonspuds @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @golden-library @ayoungpascallover-readings @ziggyrocket @pasckles @mrsparknuts @dodgerandevans @medusaandposeidonshead @pastelnap @mando-amando @notyourlovemonkey @psychesreads @oncasette @laureliciousdefinition @notyourlovemonkey @peachyaeger

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #narcos fanfiction #javier peña angst #javier pena fic #javier peña x you #javier peña fluff #javier pena #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #8 days of christmas

536 notes · View notes