#amado x miguel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honestsycrets · 1 year ago

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mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it.

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free.

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.”

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--”

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--”

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.”

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face.

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets.

“She likes it.”

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.”

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar.

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.”

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.”

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,”

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face.

“As many as will make you happy.”

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.”

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?”

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for.

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father.

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.”

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable.

Low sperm count his ass.

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it.

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.”

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.”

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel.

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them.

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.”

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly.

“Sí, Miggy?”

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so.

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that.

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place.

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder.

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck.

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone.

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day.

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is.

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready.

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall.

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.”

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.”

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.”

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck.

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.”

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest.

“Who would come in?”

“Peter,” you answer.

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see.

“The balcony, then.”

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?”

“Maybe.”

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter.

“Bend over.”

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now.

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.”

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth.

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?”

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again.

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back.

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability.

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable.

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach.

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body.

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs.

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days. “Like… not this.”

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.”

“Don’t start.”

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging.

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--”

“Let me guess. She told you.”

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?”

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe.

“Are you sure? I know--”

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.”

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?”

He leers. Peter scuttles away.

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

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narcosfandomdiscord · 1 year ago

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narcos fandom smut alphabet - finished!

you know what goes really well with summer sunshine and narcos tv rewatches? SMUTTY FIC!

(they put that bisexual lighting on Isabella for a reason, after all!)

this was our first month of prompts over at @narcosfandomdiscord! for every letter of the alphabet, we had two smutty prompts that fanfic writers used for inspiration. 🥰 our group ambition was to create at least one fic per letter—26 new narcos smut fics during the month of July—and we totally smashed it, in large part thanks to prolific work from @salt-is-a-terrible-currency. happy reading!

if you prefer reading on ao3, check out our collection. all fics tagged as #nffalphabet on tumblr. and it's just that simple 🥰

if you have any questions, you can message us on tumblr or join our narcos fandom discord here!

🍰 Prompt List & Fic Masterlist 🍰

July 1 — A — angry sex, anal

Right For Once by @drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, angry sex, 2.3k

Infuriating by @salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, angry sex, 1.5k

Our Man In Mexico by @hausofmamadas — Horacio Carrillo x Andrea Nuñez, angry sex, 2.5k

July 2 — B — blood, bound & begging

Final Warning by @purplesong1028 — Amado x Pacho, bound & begging, 490

Please (with your finger) by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, bound & begging, 1.2k

blood on vacation by @ashlingnarcos — David Barrón x f!Reader, blood, 1.8k

July 3 — C — cuffs, choking

If I go too far by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, choking, 737

mentirosos by @narcolini — Kitty Paez x gn!Reader, cuffs, 1.1k

July 4 — D — domesticity, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us.”

Taking Care by drabbles-mc — Diego Ramirez (Narcos OC) x F!Reader, domesticity, 2.1k

Lipstick's smudged by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, domesticity and “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 447

A Few Moments by @purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix/Pacho Herrera, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 482

July 5 — E — edging, eldritch

The first time I felt a ghost by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, eldritch, 716

July 6 — F — fight or fuck?, friends with benefits

No relationship talk by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, friends with benefits, 422

Unbroken Rules by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, friends with benefits, 2.9k

July 7 — G — gag/gagging, gun play

Paper-thin walls by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, gag/gagging, 361

Whatever He Wants by purplesong1028 — Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Miguel Félix, gun play, 416

July 8 — H — honor bondage, hatesex

Dress blues by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, honor bondage, 1.8k

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US by hausofmamadas — Enedina Arellano x David Barrón, honor bondage, 2k

July 9 — I — infidelity, in public

Never meet your heroes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, in public, 955

Don't Mention It by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, infidelity and in public, 2.7k

No Strong Suit by purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix x Pacho Herrera, infidelity, 439

July 10 — J — jealousy, "just shut up already"

Unprofessional by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, jealousy, 4.3k

A bad idea by @artemiseamoon — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 2.3k

The ring by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 1.1k

July 11 — K — knotting, knocked up

Which time? by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, knocked up, 418

Secrets in the night by artemiseamoon — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 3.5k

Someday When It's Over by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 2.8k

July 12 — L — luxury, lingerie

Eres guapa by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, lingerie, 544

Desire by artemiseamoon — Enedina Arellano x Original Female Character, lingerie and luxury, 3.9k

Round-trip Ticket by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, lingerie, 7.7k

July 13 — M — mirrors, "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"

Another brick in the wall by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, make me forget, 812

Favors Owed by drabbles-mc — Maria Elvira x gn!Reader, make me forget, 2.7k

Like Old Times by artemiseamoon — Judy Moncada x Original Female Character, mirrors, 1.4k

July 14 — N — nipple play, "no one does it like you"

No One Like You by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, no one does it like you, 2k

Sore by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, nipple play, 580

July 15 — O — on all fours, one night stand

Cascade by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, one night stand, 580

July 16 — P — praise kink, pulling hair

Dress blues, pt 2 by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, praise kink, 404

July 17 — Q — quiet (or trying to be), quickie

Sweet, sharp, addictive by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, quiet (or trying to be) and quickie, 464

July 18 — R — role reversal, ruined

Bad Guy Treatment by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, role reversal, 3.8k

What is she to him by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, ruined, 444

July 19 — S — submit, "say my name"

Stoke the flames by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, submit, 387

July 20 — T — trapped together, tied up

On company time by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, trapped together, 574

July 21 — U — upper hand, underwater

The Weight of It All by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x Sal Orozco, underwater, 2k

he keeps his rules. you keep him. by ashlingnarcos — Horacio Carrillo x gn!Reader, upper hand, 1.1k

Polkadots by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, underwater, 359

July 22 — V — virginity (loss or roleplay), video

Off the Backburner by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, virginity, 4.1k

In this moment of pretend by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, virginity roleplay, 435

July 23 — W — "we probably shouldn't do this", worship

Stay A Little Longer by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 1.5k

Lunch break daydream by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 497

July 24 — X — exhibitionism, exes having sex

It's complicated by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Helena, exes having sex, 971

Not Yours Anymore by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, exes having sex, 3.2k

no witness by ashlingnarcos — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, exes having sex, 2.4k

July 25 — Y — yearning, "you look good like this"

Superman (4) by @garbinge — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "you look good like this", 5k

Lost Time by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, yearning, 2.9k

If he closes his eyes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, yearning, 442

July 26 — Z — zipper, zeal

Things Like That by drabbles-mc — Danilo Garza x f!Reader, zipper, 2k

Zealot by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader and Nathan "Cable" Summers from Deadpool x f!Reader, zeal, 4k

(note: we hit the link limit on this post so from now on, links will be to fics + to authors on their first appearance.)

#narcos mexico #narcos #narcos imagine #narcos fanfiction #nffalphabet

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narcosfandomdiscord · 11 days ago

Text

oh i LOOOOOVEEEEE that you chose this particular plot point to correct for righteous indignation glo-up bc yeah the random appearance of Marisol at the beginning of S3 was such a

moment, like dang you guys couldn’t have even thrown a flashback our way??? Anything to indicate this had been a thing the prior two seasons?? And honestly you can tell S3 suffered from the COVID treatment of having to like move shit around bc of the pandemic so fkdjsk maybe this is one of those things but probably not But then again, i always rejoice at those bc it always meansssssss

opportunities for fix-it fic

So not only do I love the premise but ummmm???????????? There’s some lines here that are downright BARS. Might I point you to Exhibit A -> But, the truth is, they’re all as human as they come. And Exhibit B -> being afloat can only go so far in this world. People can only last so long before they sink.

Also love this description of Marisol bc with what little screentime she gets, she’s still makes an impression and this -> The voice on the other end is fierce and unrelenting, withholding its softness… captures her so perfectly imho.

Float

It's Amado time boiiiii (Fic number 7) @narcosfandomdiscord

Enjoy <3

Prompt #2, Book Of Fuck-Ups: Righteous indignation glo-up aka fanwork that corrects a plot misstep or writing blunder that bugs the shit outta you

Word Count: 740

Relationships: Amado Carrillo Fuentes/Marisol, Amado Carrillo Fuentes & Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo

Warnings: Canonical (yet minor) character death

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

Amado Carrillo Fuentes is a high-up henchman.

Because, under the rule of Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo, he’s managing the transport, but has to comply with Felix's every move.

Besides, he isn’t made for the drug cartels… So he thinks. In his early days, he had to spend time working out where he belonged, how to start a movement, where the best places exist to stash cocaine, and how to smoothly make transactions.

Now, he knows almost every trick of the trade, but he still can’t get away with making important phone calls.

At least, not without Felix rattling on, “Amado, hey? Who’s calling? Tijuana, or Sinaloa? We’re preparing the shipment with Cali, have they responded in kind?”

Amado can only let go of the phone, letting out a sigh and mumbling some bullshit that Felix doesn’t bother to decode.

***

Finally, they all break away. Not just him.

It’s a formal declaration, it’s an official management decision… The Arellano family holds control over Tijuana, Chapo and Azul over Sinaloa, and Amado over Juarez. They’ll keep their contacts with each other, but with such a split, there’s independence.

They clink their glasses and drink to their newfound freedom, all the while, no one spares their previous leader a glance.

Amado can make as many phone calls as he likes. He can branch out, finally, extending further than their cartel kingpin circle…

Because whether Felix knew that his people had lives or not, it doesn’t matter. But, the truth is, they’re all as human as they come.

***

He dials a number faster than any other.

When the line connects, he sighs, letting out the tension wound up in his body, and he speaks.

“Hey… Hey, I’m so sorry. I’m deep in the business now. Not just deep, but high. I’ve got an entire plaza to manage, at my disposal… Yes, yes, of course, I miss you, my love– That’s why I’m calling now–”

The voice on the other end is fierce and unrelenting, withholding its softness… But it still manages to break through.

Amado listens, learns, chips in where he can, often receiving scolding in response: Deep in the business?! Right, that’s why you haven’t been here. For years, you’ve abandoned us! Little Anna…

He chokes up at hearing that. Little Anna.

He sends them money, as much as he can manage, keeping them afloat.

Well, being afloat can only go so far in this world. People can only last so long before they sink.

They talk for a little while longer before they hang up. He runs a hand through his black hair and stares at the ceiling for a while.

He’ll have to make it up to them. Now, he’s able to. He’s not tied up in the madness of others, instead, he’s at the centre of madness. Juarez belongs to him, after all.

He can make his own decisions… And if that means calling Marisol every day, then so be it. No one can tell him otherwise.

***

Two weeks on, he gets another call, and smiles as he hears her voice.

Yes, they struggle, they’re doing things in unconventional ways, with marriage and contact and all the rest, but he’s tethered to it. He has all the opportunity in the world to stay tethered to his family.

Well, so he hopes, so he thinks, so he dreams.

When kingpin Amado, ruler of Juarez, hears what he hears next, he crumbles.

He takes the first flight back home, and if anyone asks him why, he’ll say it’s confidential. Undisclosed. Maybe it’s better to write it off as ‘unimportant business’, even though Marisol means the world to him.

Even though Little Anna meant the world to him.

He’s missed the burial and he’s grovelling at Marisol’s knees, desperate to see his daughter, to try and make things right.

“She’s grown a lot since the last time you saw her.” She tells him, brows furrowed and arms crossed.

Well, no shit! Amado wants to scream, She’s grown so much, she’s lived a life without me there… And now she’s dead?

He’ll just have to transport more coke, get on more flights, manage his business the way he wants to run it. If he’s greeted by his family with non-stop phone calls and a death, well… He’ll bury himself in his work.

He could take some cocaine, while he’s at it. It might just numb out the pain, and put him back on track.

#narcovember #narcovember prompt roulette #narcos mexico #amado x marisol #amado carrillo fuentes #miguel angel felix gallardo #nmx #narcos fanfiction #book of fuck ups #day 7

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drabbles-mc · 11 months ago

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Perfectly Available

Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Pacho Herrera

Warnings: 18+, language, implied smut

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I wrote this for my Yuletide assignment and completely forgot to cross-post it here! Enjoy! xo

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa @il0vebeingdelulu (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

There only should have been one thing on Amado’s mind in that moment. All the luxury and privacy that money could buy them, silk sheets wrinkled and ruined, clutched tightly in Pacho’s fists, duvet long since kicked to the far edge of the bed by Amado when they first got started. There was no world outside the four walls of the bedroom that they were in.

Or, that’s how it should have felt for Amado. His singular focus and every thought that went through his mind should have been about the man lying on the mattress beneath him. There were people who would’ve given just about anything to be in the position that Amado was in, after all—alone in a room with Pacho reducing him to a mess in the center of a king-size bed.

In his defense, that was how it felt for Amado the first few times. The disbelief hadn’t worn off yet, the pleasure still enough to blind him to everything else. It made him forget about all of it, the business, the mess it all entailed. It made him forget about Miguel, too, which had been the point of it all to begin with even if Amado would never admit to it out loud.

He couldn’t remember when it stopped working. He couldn’t recall how long it took for it to not be enough anymore, for Miguel to weasel back into his thoughts at the most inconvenient times, the way that he always seemed to do. Not that there was really a good time for that—there was never a good time to find himself wrapped up in thoughts and feelings for someone that would never truly be available to him in the way that he wanted. Pacho wasn’t really available to him in that way either, but that wasn’t Amado’s desired endgame with Pacho, not the way that it would have been with Miguel.

Pacho was available to Amado the exact amount that Amado needed from him. He was there, skin beneath the pads of Amado’s fingers, heat bleeding from one into the other, ragged breaths and moans drowning out any other noise. Pacho was perfectly available to Amado for exactly what he needed. Or rather, perfect was the right word for it when Pacho was still providing enough of a distraction. Maybe it wasn’t really Pacho’s fault, though.

Amado pried himself apart from Pacho, landing beside him on the bed as they each tried to catch their breaths. Amado’s eyes were shut, forearm draped across his forehead and covering most of his face as his chest rose and fell dramatically.

With his eyes closed he couldn’t see the smirk that was on Pacho’s face. He couldn’t see the way that the man turned his head to look over at him. Pacho had a slightly dazed, almost blissful look on his face. Not lovestruck, but extremely content nonetheless, even when he could see that despite everything Amado still had lingering tension in his body.

“What?” Pacho asked, his tone light, ends of his mouth still upturned.

“Hm?” Amado mumbled back, eyes remaining closed.

“What are you thinking?” He almost sounded like he was on the brink of laughter.

“Nothing.”

That response got a chuckle out of him. Amado didn’t open his eyes yet, but he could feel the way that Pacho was beginning to shift around on the bed. He pulled the thin sheet up to his waist and covered Amado in the process before leaning over to the nightstand, grabbing a cigarette and his lighter.

“You’re worse at lying when you’re like this,” Pacho said, the words slightly mumbled as he spoke them around the cigarette in his mouth.

Amado only opened his eyes and looked at the man beside him when he heard the clicking of the lighter. “Worse?”

Pacho didn’t answer until he had pulled a drag off his cigarette. “You were never that good to begin with,” he spoke with a smile, smoke creeping out in tendrils as he did, “but you’re worse when you’re like this.”

Amado scoffed, but the comment didn’t get to him. He was too tired to be offended and realistically Pacho was right and he didn’t want to get into an argument he was destined to lose. Instead, he reached over and took the cigarette rom Pacho and brought it to his own lips, hoping it would divert the entire conversation.

Pacho wasn’t distracted so easily. “So?”

Amado purposely didn’t look at him as he repeated the word back, doing his best to match Pacho’s tone. “So?”

Pacho smiled, tucking his hand behind his head as he studied Amado’s face. “What are you thinking?”

Amado took another drag before holding the cigarette back out to Pacho. He shook his head as the other man took it from him. He let out a sigh, releasing all the smoke at once in the process. “Doesn’t matter.”

Pacho let out a hum of amusement before he reached over and tapped the ash off the cigarette into the ashtray.

The sound got Amado’s attention, his eyes locked onto Pacho. “What’s that?”

Pacho looked as smug as he ever had. “What?”

“You know what.”

He took another drag from his cigarette, not that it kept him from laughing. “That was a better than a lie, at least.”

“Pfft,” Amado scoffed as he shook his head. He went back to staring at the ceiling as he listened to Pacho chuckling to himself. If it had been anyone else doing that, it would’ve been insulting at best, especially given the circumstances that the two of them were in. But there was something about Pacho that made it hard to get mad over things like that. He never made it feel malicious even when he was giving Amado a hard time.

“He doesn’t know,” Pacho said.

“What?”

“Miguel. He doesn’t know,” he repeated, shaking his head for emphasis before snubbing out his cigarette.

“About…” Amado trailed off, making the smallest gesture between them.

Pacho laughed. “He definitely doesn’t know about that.”

��Will you just say it?” Amado said, exasperated in regards to just about everything.

“You know,” Pacho responded simply.

“I don’t—”

Pacho cut him short as he got out of bed, beginning the task of find his clothes that were scattered across the room and redressing as he went. “I know. And I know it’s why we’re here. It’s why we do this.” He pulled on his underwear, then his slacks. “But he doesn’t know.”

Amado’s brows knit together for a moment. Despite the vague allusions, he knew exactly what Pacho was saying. He just didn’t know that Pacho was so aware of it all. Amado never said anything about it, tried to make a point to never have to bring any of it up.

“How did you—”

“You’re a bad liar, Amado,” Pacho repeated with a smile as he slipped his shirt on over his shoulders and began to fasten the buttons.

That got a weak smile out of Amado. “Hm.”

“I don’t know how much it would matter if he did, though,” Pacho tacked on, backtracking to his earlier statement.

The small smile immediately dropped from Amado’s face as he repeated himself. “Hm.” He paused, taking a moment to really look at Pacho. “I…”

Pacho hadn’t really thought that Amado was one for guilt, but for a moment that’s exactly what he saw crossing the man’s face. For some reason that was just as amusing as the rest of it. Guilt didn’t suit Amado the same way that Pacho wasn’t suited for placating, and Pacho never did things that didn’t suit him.

Rather than feed into the guilt that Amado was feeling, Pacho simply leaned over, left a fleeting touch across Amado’s shoulder and said, “Until next time?”

Amado looked at him, the smirk playing at Pacho’s lips something that would be burned into his brain in its own rite. He nodded. “Next time.”

Neither of them said anything more as Amado watched Pacho put on his shoes and grab his jacket before heading out the door. Once the door clicked shut behind him, Amado fell flat on his back on the mattress again, staring up at the ceiling. Once a few seconds of silence passed, he let out one quiet chuckle, smiling and shaking his head at himself more than anything else.

#narcos #narcos netflix #narcos fanfiction #narcos netflix fanfiction #amado carrillo fuentes #pacho herrera #amado carrillo fuentes x pacho herrera #pacho herrera x amado carrillo fuentes #pacho herrera fanfiction #amado carrillo fuentes fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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artemiseamoon · 2 years ago

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Preview: Sin pt 4

Miguel x f reader | bi! Pacho x f reader | ft (briefly) Cali Cartel *

Words: 6,297

I no longer write reader inserts, so consider this one of my last ever. 💕

Fic info /chapter key/ warnings (disclaimers there as well)

An: when I refer to Miguel ex wife it’s not Maria. Maria is a queen and i hate omitting her but I can’t do her dirty. I love her. Let’s imagine she is somewhere living her best life. This wife is someone else.

Warnings: overall canon show and content ones, sex, drinking, adultery.

📣Shout out to @thesolotomyhan, since it’s been so long, I needed to hype myself up by rereading some of her sexy head canons. It helped me weave my scattered notes for this chapter into place.

😤To those ppl who like to harass writers who use their imagination and pair Pacho with a women just out of pure imagination and make believe - if any of you are reading, leave me alone. There is zero reason to write me. Yes he is bi in my *make believe* fiction - I am no longer explaining myself after this. - signing off, a bisexual queer writer who uses her damn imagination.

Below is a preview ~ read on a03

Flashback - A few weeks ago

It was dark out when the plane landed. Everyone was exhausted and there was very little conversation. You couldn’t wait to get home and sleep in your own bed, to get away from all this tension for a little while. Miguel felt like a volcano about to burst and for the last couple of hours, you’ve had this bad feeling stirring in your gut, like something terrible was about to happen.

Amado was first to leave, you said your goodbyes and watched him drive off. After the car vanished in the distance, you turned to Miguel, Azul was up ahead waiting for him, and from the look on his face, you knew he had some bad news.

“I’m going to head home. I’ll see you later.” As you said, studying Miguels eyes.

He was distracted, understandably so. Miguel nodded with tense brows.

"Goodnight Miguel.” You gently touched his shoulder, then walked to your driver.

On the way over, you took a deep breath. Though Miguel's whole plan went to shit, you’re thankful he'll be occupied. The last thing on his mind won't be what you were up to. Maybe you can keep your Pacho secret a little longer.

Now, Saturday

Champagne flows freely as the guests fill the room with conversation, laughter, and general revelry. The overall vibe is upbeat and from the outside, this would look like just any rich person's party.

It was parties just like this that reunited you and Miguel all those years ago. It takes you back to that first night you kissed on the balcony, when he was a better version of himself, not yet tainted by all of this.

Before, Miguel was an old schoolmate turned bodyguard who stole your heart. Now, here you are, on his arm at a fancy political Gala. The last time he invited you to one of these as his date you told him to fuck off. You weren’t speaking to him, and in true Miguel fashion, he showed up at your door anyway.

"I told you to stay away from me. Leave me alone, Miguel!" You started to close the door.

He stopped it, "from you, yes. Not this town, not this street." He said with that air of smug confidence of his.

Now, here you are, sitting beside him at the round table with a black cloth draped across it. Gold accents on the glasses and decorations, and one of the richest meals you've ever had in your stomach.

You’re not sure why you said yes to this one, maybe it's that little part of you that feels guilty about Pacho, or the even smaller part that still wants to hold on to a piece of Miguel.

You haven’t spent a lot of time with him in the last week due to a mix of avoidance and fearing he’ll look into your eyes long enough to know your secret. Then there's the other part of you, that third part that wants him to find out. It wants to see the look in his eyes once he knows you’ve been fucking the man he hates…

Keep reading here on A03

More Narcos

No taglist. I hope to wrap this one up very soon. Subscribe to the fic on A03! Check back here and on @artemiseamoon-updates

#miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho herrera #fic: sin #bi! Pacho x f reader

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miniminiujb · 1 year ago

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Trabalho

Miguel O'hara x leitor masculino (male reader)

Você era um talentoso cientista e pesquisador. Seus olhos se apertaram em cansaço, seus dedos percorreram a tela laranja em sua frente. Seus dedos soltaram os cabelos lisos de de Miguel para tocar nas mensagens que você recebeu no seu comunicador holográfico. O ciúme começou a surgir dentro de Miguel, deixando-o inquieto.

Miguel se ergue sentado ereto, franzindo a testa ele disse: "B/n, você tem recebido muitas mensagens ultimamente. Quem está te procurando tanto?"

Você deu um sorriso em troca: "Ah, Miguel, são apenas algumas mensagens de trabalho. Não se preocupe, você sabe que você é a pessoa mais importante na minha vida".

"Eu sei, mas... às vezes, sinto que essas mensagens estão ocupando todo o seu tempo, e eu me sinto deixado de lado", Miguel disse apontando para as telas. Você ergueu as mãos para agarrar as bochechas do seu companheiro.

"Eu entendo como você se sente, Miguel, mas meu trabalho é uma parte importante da minha vida. Prometo que vou encontrar um equilíbrio e dedicar mais tempo a nós dois", você disse, seus dedos massageando a pele da bochecha dele.

Miguel suspirou, tentando afastar os pensamentos negativos. Ele sabia que tinha que confiar em você, mas o ciúme ainda o atormentava. Seu companheiro olhou em seus olhos, "Eu não gosto desse sentimento. Só quero que você saiba o quanto você significa para mim".

Você puxou o grande corpo de Miguel para cima do seu, seus lábios deixaram um beijo sobre a testa dele "Eu sei, amor. E você também significa tudo para mim. Vou fazer o possível para que você se sinta seguro e amado", você disse com calma. "Vou reduzir a minha carga de trabalho, só para ficar ao seu lado, meu amor", você terminou de falar deixando um beijo nos lábios de Miguel, sentindo a cabeça de Miguel esconder o rosto em seu peito, seus dedos seguiram para tocar nos fios escuros de Miguel.

#leitor masculino #imagine #fanboy #male reader #spiderverse #aranhaverso #homem aranha #Miguel o'hara #Miguel o'hara x male reader #Miguel o'hara x leitor masculino #atsv miguel #Miguel o'hara imagine #Miguel o'hara x reader #spiderverse x male reader #aranhaverso x male reader

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imgeekgirlfan · 1 year ago

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Renegada♱

Pairings: Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Synopsis: You have to take on the role of a musician to infiltrate a restaurant filled with high-level international drug dealers.There, you meet Amado as expected, However, it seems that everything is not going according to the plan anymore.

AN : Just in case you're wondering, in this story, Pacho is the same person as in El Paraiso de las Pandillas. I imagine him as bisexual. (Please don't attack me; it's just my imagination and has no relevance to real individuals.)

I used to think that I wouldn't continue this fanfic, but because there are still people waiting to read it, I thought I would give it another try. However, if it doesn't really work out, I probably won't update it anymore. Thank you to everyone who has been following and reading it all along. I truly appreciate it.

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

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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[1]ᅳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚 ✟

Havana, Cuba

1830(Military Time)

It has been over three hours since you sat and played the grand piano in the restaurant of the capital city. Your fingers ache from pressing down on the black and white keys as you continuously perform well-known classical pieces to entertain the sole guest here, who is seated at the large table in the middle of the restaurant.

A tall, dark-skinned man with an unruly beard and disheveled hair, always dressed in black and adorned with brand-name sunglasses hanging over his chest on the edge of his shirt

That is Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the target you've been waiting for.

You watch this man intently, alert and attentive. Since the mission began, this is the first time you have seen this man so closely. Close enough for you to shoot him dead without missing a beat.

But that's not the objective this time, and you're not playing the role of an assassin or a CIA agent. Here, you're just a "Camila," an ordinary female musician hired to provide some entertainment during an important meeting of the Latin American drug cartel.

"It's too long." Diego's voice crackles through the earpiece, sounding irritated. "Are you sure the intel is correct?"

It's not just him who feels irritated; you feel the same. "I risked my life to obtain this information. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here," your words barely whispered, but the tone sounds like a shout

"I think this should be enough," says the voice that comes back, belonging to Waltz, with a Texan accent that is so familiar to you. "You find a way out, and then we'll discuss what to do next."

No way, you think, but you don't say it out loud. You deliberately ignored that command.

Suddenly, your bare back under the yellow floral-patterned dress shivers as you notice three more individuals walking into the empty restaurant. They are dressed in vibrant, tailored suits, adorned with thick gold chains and expensive watches 'drug lord uniforms.' That's what Diego told you—the first rule of identifying suspicious individuals—and it proves very useful this time.

Those people are the most powerful drug lord syndicate in Colombia, called "Gentlemen of Cali" Today, they have appeared together, all three of them. You discreetly observe the two Rodríguez brothers, Gilberto and Miguel, They both seem like ordinary old men with no apparent threat. No one knows that beneath that façade, they are the heads of 'Cali Cartel' the most powerful drug cartel in Colombia, controlling over 90% of the cocaine market worldwide, ever since Pablo Escobar fell.

However, the most frightening person is Pacho Herrera, the second-in-command of the gang. He is still young, handsome, and charismatic, with a strong sexual appeal to both men and women (mostly men, as confirmed by one of the prostitutes who is your informant that Pacho is bisexual). His appearance is strikingly different from that of other drug dealers. The reason why this man often takes on the role of negotiating and bargaining for the gang's benefits is that Pacho is always able to fulfill his duties and responsibilities. He is clever, cunning, and ruthless.

Nevertheless, Pacho's relationship with Amado seems to be going well. As far as you have learned, Pacho greatly admires this Mexican drug dealer. Although it is uncertain whether their relationship is strictly professional or romantic, there is a high possibility that this negotiation will succeed without any issues.

Although you are sitting closest to them, you are still considered distant. There is no way for you to hear their conversation, but you can read their lips to some extent.

—I want to make an offer.

—What offer?"

—A transportation exchange with Cocaine and market sharing in America

—You want to compete with my gang?

—I don't want to compete, and what I'm doing will help your gang in America.

That's all you know, albeit not much. However, it's enough to confirm that these two gangs are indeed negotiating a drug trafficking agreement.

There was a tense whispering between the Rodríguez brothers before they abruptly stood up without touching the food on the table. They didn't look upset but rather seemed deeply engrossed in their thoughts about that proposal. As for Pacho, he remained seated at the table, continuing to sip his drink, and began to casually ask Amado, "How are you, friend?" while spraying empty words for several minutes before finally getting up and patting Amado on the back, saying, "Wait for a phone call tonight."

"What happened then?" asked Diego anxiously, but you didn't respond. At that moment, nothing else on that table could divert your attention from the remaining Amado.

Suddenly, he raised his face—the only moment you and he made eye contact without intending to. He smiled at you, and you felt an instant chill when you realized it was the most dangerous smile in both America and Mexico.

And the man slowly stood up before confidently walking towards you.

You stopped playing the piano immediately. The last note resonated in the air before it fell silent. One of your hands instinctively reached to the back, a familiar gesture, only to realize later that you hadn't brought your gun with you.

This was an unexpected situation for you, and the most unsettling part was that you had no idea of his intentions or what kind of danger might arise within the next few minutes.

Perhaps this plan leaked to Amado. Maybe you would die at his hands.

No matter how nervous you were, you tried to smile calmly back at him, the calmest you could be. Your heart pounded when he stopped right in front of you, closer than ever.

"You play the piano very well," was Amado's first sentence. "May I ask your name?"

"I'm Camila."

"And I'm Amado," he said, extending his hand. You shook hands, feeling like it was a dream, but the firm and rough palm confirmed it was real.

The man fell silent, contemplating something deeply in his heart. You didn't dare move again; you remained seated, still wary what was happening.

He must have a plan. That's what you're thinking right now

And Amado also had a plan for you, just not the kind you had imagined.

"I think I'll have to stay around here for a while. It would be good to have a friend with me. If you have no business and don't mind being my friend," he said,

You raised an eyebrow, almost letting your jaw drop.

You didn't react immediately. You knew what he wanted from you.

"Well, I'm just a musician. If you need..." You left a small gap for him to figure out. "I think you can contact some women from outside."

"No, no, not like that." Amado quickly waved his hand, looking surprised and chuckling at the same time. "I just want you to join me for a drink and sit with me as long as I stay here, that's all."

You blinked in astonishment, realizing that everything happening was beyond the mission and beyond expectations. No matter what, you have obtained what you want now, and you should leave as soon as you have the chance before anything bad happens.

But deep down, you also knew that this was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime chance that might never come again.

You tried to smile again and chose to do the opposite of what you should do.

"Sure, why not, if you're paying"

You accept his offer

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

Inside the modified black van, loud conversations in Spanish resonated. Before Diego's face emerged from the van's window, he glanced at his boss, who was waiting outside with American officers, his expression not looking too good.

"We can't contact Y/N anymore, but we know she's with Amado now."

The deputy police chief, who had just finished smoking a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke before squinting at Diego. "What does it mean that She's with Amado? Did they catch her?"

"Nah, I think she chose to stay willingly." Diego took off his glasses, a rare occurrence unless he was feeling stressed. "That idiot lured her to drink, and she said yes!. I've invited her before, and she refused all the time. But now she chooses to go with that scumbag drug dealer without a second thought!”

Julio chuckled, He smirked before extending his hand to slap him on the back. "Because you're not as handsome as he is, little boy."

"I don't see what's so funny." Walt spoke up, leaning against the van door with a tense expression: "She's in danger, and we need to get her out of there quickly."

"Calm down, White Boy." Julio's voice remained relaxed, knowing that the American officer genuinely cared for their lone teammate. "She's C.I.A. Somehow she managed to survive, right?"

"But the C.I.A. isn't God," Walt retorted. "She could have been shot and killed just like me and you."

Diego glanced at Walt and immediately decided that this was not about himself. So he quickly turned his face and stepped back into the van. There was a faint shout from one of the Mexican soldiers on the other side, suggesting, "If you guys want to fight, do it in a secluded place." Walt responded to the advice by raising his middle finger in return.

Such situations were common in the battle against drug trafficking. Sometimes the tension of the mission led to heated arguments

If Americans were like tongues, Mexicans were like teeth. Julio knew this truth well, as did Walt himself.

The Mexican man calmly lit up another cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke from his mouth and nose. "Listen, Walt, I know that the C.I.A. is not a god. Americans like you have never been my gods, and I know Y/N is going to do something by herself. No one is controlling her. That means she believes in herself, and you should have faith in her too."

With his long, pointing finger, he directed it straight at Walt, locking him in an intense gaze. Fatigued eyes still held a spark. 'We're all tired, and we don't want anyone to die’ conveyed Julio through his gaze, leaving the DEA agent at a loss for words.

Walt wanted to trust in you, as Julio told him, but that didn't help alleviate the anxiety in his heart.

Because you were the youngest agent Walt had ever worked with. You were the same age as his younger brother, and you had a bright future ahead of you. Walt didn't want you to make a mistake, and he didn't want to do anything that would restrain you in any way.

Walt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a fresh cigarette being offered to him by Julio. Walt accepted the gesture by taking it and holding it between his lips, whispering a soft thank you. As Julio lit the cigarette for him,

They both stood there, smoking side by side, exchanging understanding through the smoke and silence. Walt gazed at the darkening sky as the streetlights gradually turned on one by one, illuminating both sides of the road. He took another deep smoke before turning to the person beside him and asking, "So, what do we do next?"

Julio smiled briefly, tapped the end of his own cigarette against the side mirror of the van, and let the ashes fall to the ground.

"All we can do is wait," he said.

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

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beyourself-marvellover · 1 year ago

Text

El último adiós | Miguel O'Hara x OC (Female Reader)

Notas: +18, sexo explícito, escenas y descripciones explícitas. En español.

Resumen: Un evento canónico te aleja de la persona que más amas. Sin embargo, piensas que lo mejor es vivir junto a él sin arrepentimiento, que pase lo que tenga que pasar pero que sea junto a él.

~ Gif: orallech

Salvar la ciudad es lo único que tengo para dispersarme un rato y dejar de pensar tanto en... En él.

Estuvimos en tantas misiones, fui su más leal y efectiva compañera en el terreno. Creí en él y aún lo sigo haciendo, pero... Decidí dejarlo todo luego de descubrir la verdad. Mi verdad.

Sé que más temprano que tarde va a suceder, pero no quiero darle más dolor a mi corazón del que ya ha tenido en los últimos años desde que me convertí en otra versión más de Spider-Man.

-Me... Me voy, Miguel. No puedo seguir con un hombre que esconde tantos secretos. ¿A costa de qué lo haces? ¿Quieres salvar tu canon o mí canon?

-Carolina, es lo que se debe hacer.

-¿Enamorarme de ti para salvar tu canon? ¿Enamorarme de ti para qué? ¿Me quieres ver morir? ¿Quién quiere eso para su ser amado?

-Intenté advertirte de esto. Intenté evitarte y no pude.

-No es de poder o no poder. Es de que me hubieras dicho.

-Daba igual si te lo decía o no. Esto es inevitable.

-¿Te enamoraste de mí?

-Sí. Mucho. ¿Ves? No importaba lo que hiciera, ambos caeríamos.

-Debiste nunca haber visitado mi dimensión y esto no hubiera pasado.

-Antes de conocerte, nunca fui capaz de ver lo que el modelo me arrojaba sobre tu historia. Solo fui a ti por ayuda, como lo he hecho con otros tantos Spiders.

-¿Y qué sigue? Me enamoro de ti, tú te enamoras de mí y para qué... ¿Para que muera en tus brazos?

-Hace parte de mi canon y del tuyo.

-¿Por qué me dices esto ahora, Miguel? ¿Por qué? - Mi rostro se llena de lágrimas ante la ira y el dolor que tengo con cada palabra que sale de la boca de él.

-Porque, aunque no quiera perderte, quiero poder tenerte aquí. Tener tu compañía.

-¿Mientras esperas que muera?

Miguel toma aire y me mira desafiante.

-Es. Lo. Que. Tiene que pasar. ¡Entiende!

-Sí, me ha quedado claro. No hay manera de revertirlo, ni manera de salvar mi universo.

-No. No hay otra forma.

Me quito mi reloj y lo dejo sobre la mesa de trabajo de Miguel.

-Renuncio. Déjame en paz y no te atrevas a buscarme.

-No lo haré. No soportaría ver tu dolor.

-Adiós.

Esa fue la última vez que hablamos, o mejor, discutimos. Mi vida de alguna manera, se conectó a la de él desde que yo nací y en algún punto de nuestra existencia íbamos a coincidir y, como es normal para casa Spidey, después de un momento de gloria y felicidad, llega el momento de dolor. De ese que te deja una marca imborrable.

Yo ya pasé por eso cuando perdí a mi prometido hace unos dos años, antes de conocer a Miguel. A día de hoy, hay noches en las que recuerdo esa tarde fatídica y el muro desplomándose sobre él.

Tiempo después, conocí a Miguel, me uní a su escuadrón de defensa del multiverso y bueno... Me enamoré de él perdidamente. Él no fue ajeno al sentimiento y también se enamoró.

Ahora solo intento prolongar un evento inevitable en el canon de ambos, tratando de disfrutar lo que me quede de vida y salvando a las personas que más pueda mientras mis pulmones puedan respirar.

Y eso hago ahora. Escucho la radio de la policía esperando por alguna señal de alerta...

Y viene el show...

Se reportan una serie de disturbios en un banco. Hay hombres usando armas e incluso, amenazan con explotar el lugar.

¡Se viene el show!

Balanceándome entre los edificios y, aprovechando que puedo producir mi telaraña de forma orgánica, llego al lugar antes que la policía. El tráfico de la ciudad apesta.

Los presuntos delicuentes tienen rehenes. Aquí no hay que dar un show, solo actuar con más prudencia para que ningún civil sufra algún daño.

Entro por la parte trasera del banco con mucho sigilo y lanzo un par de telarañas a uno de los hombres. Él cae y queda inmovilizado. Tomo su arma y retiro el cartucho con las balas.

El cómplice se da cuenta y de inmediato toma una mujer y le apunta a su cabeza.

-Ya te extrañaba, Spider-Woman.

-Qué lindo. Eso me dicen mis fieles admiradores.

-¿Admiradores? Jajajaja... No creo que tus admiradores hagan esto... - Él cambia la dirección de su arma y me apunta y dispara.

Gracias a mis reflejos, esquivo las balas.

-Qué mala jugada. Mis admiradores siempre piden mi autógrafo. No eres un fan. Buuuu...

En eso, la mujer cautiva le da un codazo al estómago del tipo y logra liberarse. Yo le arrojo unas telarañas y lo atrapo.

-Eres un tipo aburrido y que no sabe tratar a las personas. Ojalá pases una buena temporada en la cárcel.

La policía llega y logramos evacuar a los civiles.

-No cantes victoria, nena. Que si nos vamos los dos, tú también nos acompañas.

-No sabes cómo hacer acertijos. Qué pésimo sentido de la creatividad. Me duermooo...

-Dormida vas a quedar.

En ese momento siento que algo pesado me cae y solo logro ver oscuridad...

Mi sent...

...

Cuando despierto, la cabeza me duele mucho. Mientras me voy incorporando a mi realidad, me doy cuenta que no estoy en mi casa, ni en algún hospital.

¡Carajo! ¡Mi identidad!

En eso una luz resplandece...

-¡Caro! ¡Qué lindo verte de nuevo!

-¿Lyla?

-Dahhh, quién más crees que sería.

-¿Qué hago aquí?

- Deberías preguntárselo a él.

En ese momento entra Miguel, caminando tan imponente como siempre, seguro de sí mismo, determinado y con su semblante serio como para variar.

El corazón me empieza a palpitar. No pensé volverlo a ver.

-Carolina...

-¿Qué hago aquí?

-Yo...

-¿Tú?

-Miguel, vamos, dícelo. Recuerda lo que hablamos. - Le dice Lyla.

- Carolina... Yo me disculpo. Lamento haberte escondido algo importante.

Siento que el pecho me quiere explotar ante la confesión de Miguel.

-¿Por qué te disculpas? Si voy a morir, hazlo. Que sea sin dolor, preferiblemente.

-Yo no podría matarte.

-Pero tampoco puedes salvarme. Entonces es preferible acabar con esto de una vez. Anda, usa tus garras y despellejame, si es que no quieres darme una muerte lenta. Parálizame si deseas que no sienta dolor.

-No, el trabajo sucio lo hacen los malos.

-¿Y es que tú eres de los buenos?

-Solo hago lo que debo para proteger nuestras realidades. ¡Comprende!

-Creo que... Me voy. - Lyla desaparece en un parpadeo.

-Volvemos a la misma discusión de hace meses...

-Yo he perdido más de lo que he ganado. Así que ... ¿Qué más da?

-¿Te parece bien que muera?

-No. Para nada. Solo que... - El tono de Miguel ahora es más triste. - Cuando pierdes todo, solo queda seguir porque ya nada te podrá ser arrebatado.

-Lo entiendo. ¿Crees que no? Perdí a mi prometido. Te conocí a ti... Y ...

-Carolina... Solo quiero vivir contigo los meses que te quedan. Claro, si tú así lo deseas.

-¿Por qué hacernos daño de esta manera? No podría verte o abrazarte sabiendo que puede se la última vez que lo haga. Prefiero pensarte y atormentarme en mi soledad porque no verte duele menos.

-Te juro que intenté de todas las formas evitar esto.

-Ya es tarde, Miguel. Solo quería darme mi tiempo para vivir un poco más.

Miguel se sienta sobre la cama y me mira fijamente.

-Es mejor que te deje en tu dimensión.

-Sí, por favor. Permíteme vivir lejos de ti, porque no puedo con la carga de verte.

Miguel se acerca hacia mí y acaricia una de mis mejillas.

-No quiero dejarte ir... Esto también me duele.

-¿Te recuerda a Gabriella? ¿Verdad?

-No puedo seguir perdiendo a las personas que amo, pero tampoco evitarlo. Otras vidas se perderían en el proceso.

-Lo sé.

-Insisto... No te vayas. - La caricia de Miguel es más repetitiva. Siento que mi cuerpo empieza a reaccionar ante el contacto de mi piel y la suya.

- Hablo en serio cuando digo que puedes desgarrarme y hacer menos difícil mi agonía.

El semblante de Miguel cambia... Su mirada brilla y sus colmillos se asoman.

- Sabes que puedo hacer todo lo que me pidas. Menos eso.

En ese momento, la otra mano de Miguel se desliza de mi cuello a mi abdomen. Siento un cosquilleo en el vientre.

-Entonces... ¿Qué piensas hacer conmigo, Miguel?

Él coloca sus dos manos sobre mi cintura. Sus ojos rojos brillan más y más, mientras que su lengua empieza a relamerse los labios y a rozar con cuidado sus colmillos.

Aquello hace que empiece a perder todo el control de mí.

Pongo mis manos sobre los brazos de él y hundo mis dedos. Él sonríe.

Me acerco a su boca y lo beso. Lamo sus labios y luego sus colmillos. Él gime.

Él me besa otra vez, apretando más su agarre sobre mí, luego, con una mano me toma la espalda y me acerca más hacia su cuerpo.

-Ahhh... - Gimo. - Señor O'Hara, hoy usted está muy inquieto.

-No sabes cuánto esperé por hacerte esto. - Lentamente, va quitando mi traje...

Primero expone mi pecho.

Al ver mis senos, su mirada se oscurece, mientras que sus manos empiezan a concentrarse en mis pechos.

Cierro los ojos y me arqueo ante el placer que esto me provoca. Poco a poco, el cuerpo de Miguel me va cubriendo hasta que logro recostarme otra vez.

Sus manos masajean mis senos, los aprietan. Después su boca se enfoca en uno de ellos, sus colmillos rozan mi piel y esto me hace soltar un grito...

-AHH... ¡MIGUEL!

-Me encanta cuando gritas mi nombre. Sigue, no pares, chiquita.

Su boca lame, muerde, succiona mi pecho.

-MIGUEL.

-Buena chica.

Luego siento que sus colmillos van bajando por mi vientre hasta llegar a mi pelvis. Miguel termina de deshacerse del traje.

-Me encanta verte así, sin nada. Eres hermosa. Me prendes, mi vida.

Él se toma unos segundos para verme. Me siento aún más excitada de provocar ese deseo en él. Estiro mis piernas y luego rodeo su cintura. Su traje desaparece por completo y eso aumenta mi frenesí.

Su pecho me encanta, sus hombros, sus brazos, cada vez que él me cubre, siento que solo él mismo es mi límite, mi deseo, mi esperanza, mi vida, mi perdición.

Miguel empieza a rozar mi entrepierna con su intimidad y yo siento que me vuelvo gelatina ante esto.

-Basta de jugar... Quédate quieta. - Me ordena.

Obedezco.

Miguel se acomoda para besarme de nuevo, su lengua se enreda con la mía y jugueteamos por unos segundos. Sus manos acarician mis piernas y poco a poco siento que el calor de su cuerpo me hace poner las mejillas como tomate.

Después de ese beso, lame mi cuello, mis clavículas, y baja de nuevo a mi vientre. Se detiene y me mira... Es una mirada lasciva, de fervor total. Me desea tanto como yo lo deseo a él.

Se acomoda en medio de mis piernas y las separa un poco, logra posicionarse de tal manera que su cara ahora en frente de mi zona íntima.

La respiración se me agita y mi cuerpo se va preparando para lo que sigue.

Miguel roza su lengua sobre mi pubis, luego va entrando en mí y gime levemente.

- Hermosa... Siempre estás lista para mí. Me encanta. - Él empieza hacer varios movimientos con su lengua.

Voy respondiendo, mi cadera busca más de su boca. Mis manos se pierden entre ese cabello oscuro, doy unos pequeños masajes sobre su cuero cabelludo a lo que él reacciona con unos gemidos.

Su lengua no para de moverse, siento que las piernas me empiezan a temblar hasta que llego al clímax.

-Mi-guel... - Exploto y logro sentir que liberé toda la tensión de los últimos meses.

- Música para mis oídos.

Trato de recuperar el aliento. Eso fue muy intenso y si así es el comienzo... No imagino el final.

Miguel se levanta y se queda observándome fijamente. Siento que su mirada se clava igual o peor que sus mismos colmillos.

- Como te luce un orgasmo, preciosa. - Se acomoda a mi lado. Su pecho está delante de mis ojos. - Me encanta hacer que tus mejillas se enrojezcan. - Vuelve a acariciar mi rostro.

-¿Qué quieres de mí, Miguel? Siempre que estoy contigo me confundes.

-Solo quiero tenerte. Hacerte saber que eres mía.

- Sabes que soy tuya, así como tú eres mío. No importa lo que pase. - Empiezo a resignarme...

Es tétrica la idea de saber cómo vas a morir y aún más tétrico saber quién va a estar ahí, eso sí, sin saber cuándo suceda o dónde. Le doy un abrazo fuerte a Miguel, él también responde al contacto y me abraza fuerte, como si la vida dependiera de ello.

- No voy a dejar que mi trabajo, nuestro trabajo como equipo y que lo que tú has hecho en tu dimensión, se queden en vano. Lo juro.

- El dolor nos hace fuertes. ¿Verdad?

- Es lo único que nos queda, por eso no pienso dar un paso atrás de mi trabajo.

Me quedo en silencio... Solo escuchando el latido de su corazón. Toda la tranquilidad se interrumpe cuando sus manos empiezan a jugar con mi cabello, acariciar mi espalda. Sus labios se entiendan con los míos en un beso desesperado.

- Eres mía, Carolina. Mía. - Le da una mordida suave a mi labio inferior. - Eres mía.

En un frenesí, él me toma de la cintura y me acomoda sobre su cuerpo. La vista desde esta posición me atrae a él como imán al metal.

Mis manos se pasean por su torso marcado, su abdomen, siento que su piel se eriza ante mi contacto. Me acomodo para besar su boca, luego paso por su cuello... Me detengo unos segundos para lamer, divertirme en esa zona... Luego vuelvo a besarlo.

Él me toma del cabello y me jala...

- Vamos, déjame tocarte. - En eso me suelta y me vuelvo a sentar.

Tomo sus manos y las coloco sobre mi cintura, voy guiando su tacto: de mi cintura a mi pecho, a mi cuello...

Él se sienta...

- Qué desesperante no sentirte mejor, chiquita. - Salvajemente, me toma la cintura y me empuja hacia él, nos besamos.

Me acomodo tratando de que mi pecho quede cerca de su cara. Me apoyo en sus hombros para no perder el equilibrio.

Él esboza una sonrisa casi que diabólica. Su boca empieza a jugar con mis pechos, va de uno al otro, es casi como si quisiera comérselos.

Sus estímulos me erizan. La piel se me vuelve gallina y voy sintiendo como algo en mi intimidad me empieza a cosquillear.

Él siempre sabe cómo hacer que lo desee.

Su boca para y vuelve a mirarme.

- Sabes lo qué quieres, sé lo qué quieres. Solo pídelo, pídelo, mi amor.

- Sabes que te quiero a ti, te deseo a ti aquí y ahora. Te quiero dentro de mí. - Lo miro desafiante.

- ¿Y por qué me haces esa mirada?

- Porque me gusta retarte.

- ¿Y esta vez qué quieres?

- Nada. Solo poderte sentir.

- Bueno, acepto el reto, cariño.

Él me agarra de la cintura y me acomoda mejor para poder dejar mi cadera y mi pelvis a su entera disposición. Siento su miembro duro, lo cual hace que aumente mi cosquilleo.

Enredo mis piernas sobre su cintura. Y empezamos a movernos, en segundos, siento que mi cuerpo totalmente caliente. Mi cadera intenta embestir la suya pero claro, él es tan grande que no puedo hacer mucho y usar mi fuerza en momentos así no es mi estilo.

Una vez lo intenté y casi rompemos la mesa de su laboratorio.

Solo me dejo llevar por la sensación de placer que va creciendo. Mis sentidos ceden cada vez que él entra y sale de mí. Mis uñas se entierran sobre su piel. Es explosivo.

Ambos vamos llegando al clímax. Mi cuerpo queda echo puré sobre el suyo. Acomodo mi frente sobre la suya y me fundo entre sus brazos.

- Me encanta tenerte así... Cansada, completamente derretida ante mí.

- Miguel... - Susurro.

- Shhh shhh... - Me da un beso.

Siento que quiero dormir. Estar con él siempre resulta casi que maratónico.

Él me acomoda sobre la cama, me arropa y yo caigo rendida.

Cuando despierto, no lo veo a él. Estoy sola. Me pongo mi traje y voy camino al laboratorio.

Veo unas cuántas caras familiares. Me siento como en mi segundo hogar. Converso por un rato con algunos de los Spiders.

Luego continúo caminando hacia el laboratorio. Entro...

- ¿Miguel? ¿Estás aquí?

Generalmete, este sitio es oscuro. Bastante, salvo por las pantallas de los computadores y Lyla, a quien, curiosamente, no veo ahora.

- ¿Miguel? - Insisto.

- ¿Caro? ¿Eres tú? - Me grita desde un rincón del laboratorio.

- Sí, soy yo.

- Voy.

En unos segundos baja.

- Te escucho, cariño. - Me dice mientras corre un mechón de mi cara y lo coloca tras mi oreja.

- ¿Pasa algo si me quedo? Quiero quedarme aquí por algunos días.

- No. No va pasar nada. Me sorprende que decidieras quedarte.

- No podemos huir de nuestro destino.

- "Destino" es un término interesante, pero yo diría que no podemos huir de nuestra propia historia.

- No me dejes, por favor. Porque yo prometo no dejarte. - Lo abrazo fuerte, como si esta fuera la última vez. - Miguel, por favor, no me dejes. Tengo mucho miedo. - Siento que la voz me tiembla, siento un vacío enorme en el pecho.

La incertidumbre empieza a consumirme.

Él me sujeta fuerte.

- No. No te dejaré.

Me riego en llanto y él no me suelta nunca. Lloro sobre casi que a la altura de su abdomen.

- Tengo mucho miedo. Mucho.

- Solo déjalo salir. Llora. Sabes que estoy aquí para ti. Sabes que te amo y mucho.

Escucharlo decir " te amo" me hace desbordar más y más. Es posible que sean las últimas veces que podamos profesarnos amor.

Después de ese día, Miguel y yo empezamos nuevamente a trabajar como equipo, vigilando posibles anomalías en la línea temporal, capturando algunas amenazas al canon de los Spiders.

En fin, el equipo maravilla que alguna vez conformamos está de vuelta. Él me complementa a mí, como yo a él, así lo sentí desde el día que confesamos nuestros sentimientos el uno por el otro.

Las semanas pasaron y tal como lo prometió, él no se separó de mí. Era casi que mi sombra. Muchas cosas las empezamos hacer juntos, como la pareja que fuimos consolidando dentro y fuera del cuartel.

Algunas noches la pasábamos hablando de su pequeña Gabriella y las veces que hemos tenido que llorar por alguna pérdida. Otras noches la pasábamos dando rienda suelta a nuestros deseos y pasión.

Con él es imposible aburrirse.

...

La mañana transcurre con tranquilidad. Bueno, luego de haber pateado algunos traseros maleantes.

De pronto se alcanza a escuchar una explosión.

- Chicos, la explosión viene de un edificio cercano. - Nos indica Lyla.

- Tenemos que ir, Miguel.

- Déjame ir primero a mí, después te llamo. ¿Ok?

- Claro. Ten cuidado, por favor.

Unos minutos después recibo el llamado de Miguel.

- Hay muchas personas heridas. Necesitamos refuerzos.

- Ya vamos, ten cuidado.

Casi que en un abrir y cerrar de ojos llegamos.

Miguel nos da indicaciones sobre los puntos más frágiles del edificio, es decir, donde la estructura tiene más probabilidad de colapsar, esto para que evitemos pasar por ahí con los civiles.

Yo me dirijo hacia una zona con algunos heridos.

- Hace falta un amigable vecino por aquí... Lo siento, lo siento. Sé que están asustados, pero vine ayudar. Niños y adultos mayores primero.

Con mi telaraña construyo un cinturón para que las personas no se dispersen y no se extravíen.

- Ahora, les pido que solo pisen por donde yo voy.

Casi una hora después termino de evacuar a las personas que quedaron atrapadas en mi sector. Vuelvo a entrar al edificio, explorando para ver que no haya alguien atrapado.

- ¡Caro! ¿A dónde vas? - Grita Miguel.

- Debemos asegurarnos de que no hayan más personas aquí.

- Este edificio va a colapsar. Las llamas están derritiendo los cimientos y metales. Tenemos que salir. - Miguel toma mi mano.

Siento un cosquilleo en mi espalda... Mi sentido arácnido...

- ¡Miguel! ¡Ten cuidado!

Como reflejo, logro balancearme sobre él y lo lanzo a unos metros de donde caen los escombros.

- ¡Caro! ¡Carolina!

Siento que algo me atraviesa... Mi piel se rompe, lentamente, siento como las entrañas se me retuercen, me arde mucho por dentro.

Me desplomo.

Así que ya llegó la hora del evento canon.

Siento que mi traje se humedece por la sangre...

- ¡CAROLINA!

Miguel se levanta y corre hacia mí. Sus ojos se llenan de pánico cuando me ve.

Alcanzo a escuchar su respiración acelerada.

- Lyla... Déjame ver los signos vitales de Carolina, por favor.

- Hay daños irreparables en órganos como el hígado y un riñón. Tiene una hemorragia interna. Lo... Lo... Lo siento mucho, chicos.

- ¿No hay nada que podamos hacer?

- No. No lo hay. Lo lamento.

Miguel se acerca a mí y se agacha, sujeta mi cabeza entre sus brazos. Sus ojos se humedecen.

- Vamos a estar bien. Sabíamos que esto pasaría. ¿Verdad? - Le digo aún con la poca fuerza que me queda, casi que jadeando.

- No pensé que fuera pronto. No fui capaz de ver el modelo completo.

- Al menos estuvimos juntos y es lo que importa. Hicimos lo que mejor sabemos hacer. - Respirar y estar conciente se me empiezan hacer difíciles.

- Prometí que no iba a dejarte.

- Te amo, Miguel. No lo olvides y pase lo que siga pasando, no te detengas. Haz que tu trabajo valga la pena, por tu familia, por Gabriella... Por... Por... - Trato de cobrar un poco el aliento, pero es imposible. Estoy agotando la poca vitalidad que me queda. - Por mí.

Él me da un beso. Nuestro último beso.

🕸️🔴🔵

La beso por última vez... Su piel aún es tibia. Eso sí, de esas mejillas rosadas que se ruborizaban cuando estábamos juntos o cuando la intimidaba, ya no quedan nada. Su corazón se ha detenido. Su respiración igual.

Su cuerpo queda inmóvil ante mi mirada impotente. A pesar de saber que esto sucedería, el dolor de verla partir es abrasador, me quema por dentro.

La tomo y salgo como puedo de ese lugar.

Logro avanzar unos kilómetros y el edificio colapsa ante todos nosotros.

Todos los Spiders me rodean con el cuerpo de Carolina.

- Miguel... - Susurra Jess. - Lo siento mucho.

No soy capaz de responderle. Solo tengo ojos para Carolina. No sé si está dormida o en un trance. Por más que hayamos hablado de este evento, la realidad es que la muerte te sorprende de manera épica.

Al menos le cumplí mi promesa, nunca la dejé. Siempre estuve para ella en estos últimos días. La tuve para mí, la escuché, nos reímos, hablamos...

Tal vez se vaya a encontrar con Gabriella o tal vez no. Como sea, Caro es mi evento canon más hermoso y más doloroso.

Con mucho cuidado, llevamos a Carolina a una morgue. Por respeto a su identidad, no podemos hacerlo con cualquiera.

Al otro día me llaman para reclamar su cadáver. Ella pidió que fuera enterrada en su dimensión. Como no tiene muchos amigos o familia, solo yo, Jess y otros Spiders acudimos a su sepelio.

Jess y Lyla no me dejan solo.

- Hiciste lo que estuvo en tus manos. Los cuatro sabíamos que esto sucedería.

- Sí, Jess... Pero...

- ¿Qué? Dilo, no lo guardes, por favor.

- Duele... Duele... Duele mucho.

- Es difícil entender estas cosas, incluso cuando ya sabes qué van a suceder. Las emociones salen a flote y es mejor que salgan. Date la oportunidad, por una vez en tu vida, de llorar.

- Quiero estar solo.

- Lo entiendo. Si necesitas algo...

- Déjame, por favor.

Mis lágrimas empañan mis ojos, los recuerdos de todas las personas que he visto irse ante mí afloran... Ver la lápida de Carolina hace que llorar sea más fácil.

Y aunque todos sabemos que estas perdidas son necesarias, la parte difícil es asimilarlas. Saber que me voy a levantar y ya no la voy a ver, ni escuchar su voz o su risa...

Es por eso que no puedo acabar con mi trabajo, porque cada vez que avanzo como Spider-Man, como un superhéroe, mi vida retrocede cien pasos más y no hay nada más que pongas en riesgo, no desde tu vida como alguien "normal".

Ahora, todo lo que haga, cada misión, cada paso que de, será en honor a Gabriella y Carolina. Ahora, sé que no puedo parar. Haré lo que tenga que hacer por defender el multiverso y por honrar la memoria de ellas dos.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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hausofmamadas · 2 years ago

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GIF DUMPS

✸ FRENCHIE | Queer!Mode, Detected (The Boys)

✸ JOHNNY DAVIS | Cheers to a (real) wild one ✸ DREAMSTAT | Moments of Hilarity (Moment #45)

✸ PLASTIC GANGSTER | Anatoly Givenchy Romanov

✸ PRIMOGENITAL | the wisdom of Fredward Horniman ✸ SE LA ARRANCA A MORDIDAS | mystery of Amado’s anonymous lady-hustlers, solved

✸ TO THE SMASH N GRAB CREW | RIP to the homies and this Cece x Kenny meet cute

✸ NUGGETS OF BENJAMAYO | aka just a gif dump of my madness about 1 measly scene

✸ NO MAMES KITTEEEE | Bc here we stan a side character with moxie y moda tan shingona

✸ PACHO Y MIGUEL | An enemies to lovers hatestory for the ages

✸ RAÍCES DE DINARRON | Eso es mi pinshe espososa … get your own, cabrón

✸ ES EL PUTO FUTURO | Rafa y Neto’s fresh take on hit holiday classic White Christmas

✸ DINARRON | Or should I say Dinarellaron …

✸ DINARRON | When you and bae spend so much time together, you accidentally wear the same dress to prom

✸ COMO UVAS | The sweet adventures of Dina y Chabelita

✸ ESSENCE OF MON | Twere our sweet bb angel harvested, ground into powder & refined into an essential oil, it’d be this

✸ DINA Y MAYO | the L o v e i didn’t even know i wanted but that most definitely should’ve been a thing

Pt 1 Pt 2

✸ Se llama CRACK | Ramon Arellano Felix x Crack homage

Pt 1 Pt 2

✸ LA TIERRA IS A VAMPIRE (?) | We gather here today to honor not!Vampire, pobrecito playboy, Carlos “Charlie” Calles

✸ MAD!Mín | An ode to everyone's favorite grumpy cartel boss

✸ OUR LADY OF SINALOA | The People's Wife, María Elvira

✸ MIGUEL Y MIN SERIES

Pt 1 - Tengo cuarenta anos & Pt 2 - Schmoozing Pt 3 - Un regalo extravagante Pt 4 - The Approach Pt 5 - The Confrontation Pt 6 - The Dismissal & Pt 7 - The Resignation Pt 8 - The Warning aka la profecía de los dos brujas

✸ ISACHEPE | The spinoff

✸ CUANDO SE SENTÍA UN ATRACO | Narcos Mexico’s early days

#masterlist #gifs #original gifs #gif dumps

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purplesong1028 · 2 years ago

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Wrong in All the Right Ways

Chapter 10: Leyenda

Miguel miraculously negotiates himself out of the crisis. Amado leaves Pacho a special gift after their encounter last night.

Rating: General Audience

Pairing: Amado/Miguel, Amado/Pacho

Words: 3,001

Miguel is already awake when Tony knocks on his door to wake him up. Of course he is, since he didn’t sleep last night at all. How could he get any sleep when he had no idea where he was going, how long would he stay in one place, or what would happen next, at all? He tries to remind himself that this is the new norm now, that he’s on the run and will always be on the run, but at least he’s still alive right now, and that’s something. That should count.

He gets dressed, gets ready and calls Tony back in to hand him two duffel bags, one with cash, one with personal items, and these are the only ones that will go in his car.

Tony nods and walks away, and that’s when everything starts happening: screeching tires, yelling, gunshots… It feels surreal, which is weird because if anything, he should be used to all that, even when he was just a cop. But it’s different now because he was just getting ready to leave for good. He thought he had made it.

Instincts and old muscle memories take control at the moment. Miguel picks up a gun from the floor and starts firing back.

The other side has more men and bigger guns, but there’s no time to think about any of that strategically amid the chaos. Some men have come upstairs, and he kills the one chasing him. Other things must have happened after that, but he doesn’t remember how exactly he made it to the backyard completely on his own. He just didn’t stop. He can’t stop.

He doesn’t stop when Calderoni calls out from behind. He runs and negotiates, desperately trying to get out of this somehow, while the police commander puts a gun to the back of his head and orders him to kneel.

Miguel hears the gun click, and that’s when his brain suddenly becomes quiet, on the verge of an immediate death.

That’s when he’s able to think again, and when he can think, he thinks well.

For the past week, he’s been preparing himself for the end, to come to an acceptance of it. But why? Why should he take the fall, when these assholes who were actually responsible for Camarena’s death could go on with their lives? These high and mighty motherfuckers took millions from him but treated him like nothing more than a scapegoat to throw under the bus, to die, so they could sit at some fancy hall in Mexico City and act like nothing happened.

They might have thought they were done with him, but he’s not done with them.

“There are seven tapes.” He tells the commander, just one of his many effortless lies. “In two of them, he was asked about names of politicians involved with traffickers.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know something on Calderoni’s face must have changed. It’s a shame, really. These politicians were so scared for themselves that they tortured a DEA to death, but turns out the guy didn’t even know shit.

Well then good for him! A dead man can’t talk, so now it’s up to him to decide what Camarena said.

“They’re the names of important men, Commander, men like your boss.”

The barrel against this skull moves, barely detectable but he definitely feels it.

“So go ahead, shoot me, and tomorrow those names are released.”

The gun doesn’t go off. Of course it doesn’t. Miguel turns around with a subtle smile on his face.

“But save a bullet for yourself, because the system doesn’t like heroes.”

Amado wakes up naturally around 10 am. It’s one of these rare occasions when he opens his eyes to a perfect world: the bed is soft, the sunshine is gentle, the birds are chipping, and both his body and mind are well rested. That is until he sees the circles of bruises on his wrists. Then all the memories flashback: the sex, the bathrobe, the nightclub, the failed business meeting… The world is anything but perfect, and this beautiful morning is just a temporary illusion, nothing more than a short extension from a nice dream.

He rolls off the bed, still completely naked, feet touching the soft carpet. The white bathrobe is still laying on the floor, a few steps away from bed, just carelessly left there in the cold for the night. From this angle, it looks just like a regular piece of clothing, not worth any attention, yet when it’s neatly folded and wrapped in a gift box with golden ribbons, it somehow looks untouchable, pristine. Amado picks it up, sensing the cool, smoothness between his fingertips. He puts it back into the gift box and closes the lid. After all, he still wants it. It’s his.

Then, he sees the other gift box he brought here, the one he almost forgot about. He probably should just take it back to Mexico since Pacho didn’t even care enough to take it or ask what it was. It was nothing interesting anyway, some fine liquor, but the Colombian could get plenty of those on his own. Amado thinks about last night, the utter bliss and passion, but even more so, the words Pacho said.

You can’t call your own shots. You’re not ready.

No. Fuck that.

He grits his teeth, and takes the liquor bottles out.

When he walks out to one of the large living rooms, Pacho is sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee.

“Morning.” The Colombian greets him with a big smile. “Care to join me for some breakfast?”

The table is full of food, and he can smell them all the way from where he’s standing, but as tempting as they are, he shouldn’t waste more time here. “Thanks, but I really should get going.”

“It won’t take long.” Pacho gestures at the chair across from him. “Please, it would be very rude of me to let a guest leave with an empty stomach.”

Amado sighs and drops his duffel bag on an empty chair. It’s fucking impossible to say no twice to this man. He sits down and drinks a few sips of orange juice.

“Did you sleep well afterwards?” Pacho asks casually, picking up a grape from the fruit platter.

“Yeah, pretty well.” Amado meets his eyes, just in time to see the purple fruit disappear behind his lips. “Your bed is comfortable.”

“So I’ve been told.” Pacho smiles with the grape still in his mouth, and that makes it look more cheeky than it’s supposed to be. “Glad you had a good time.”

He allows his gaze to wander freely on Pacho, who’s now dressed up again in an expensive shirt with complex patterns, but it’s different now. Now he’s seen what’s underneath, and he can still see everything even when they’re perfectly covered.

Pacho leans back against the chair, open and relaxed, like he’s intentionally giving Amado a better view.

“Well, if you ever miss the scenery,” Pacho glances at the plate of eggs he’s eating, and then looks up suggestively, “or food in Colombia, you still have my number.”

Amado meets his stare and smiles back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hurries to finish his plate, which is delicious by the way, and then pours himself a cup of coffee.

“You never opened the gift I brought you. I left it in the bedroom. You should take a look later.”

He takes a small sip of coffee, closely observing Pacho’s expression, and he doesn’t miss it when those brown eyes light up with interest and curiosity.

Amado picks up his bag and stands up, feeling utterly satisfied, and for once in a long time, hopeful.

“A word of advice, if you would allow me.” Pacho calls out behind him, when he’s halfway through the large living room. He turns back silently.

“I would be careful if I were you.” Pacho stands up as well, but doesn’t move closer. “Felix trusted you the most, how would the Arellanos think about that when they become the boss?”

Amado frowns, meeting the other man’s firm stare. It looks serious but not at all threatening. If anything, it’s a well-intended and very rational warning, because whether he likes it or not, Pacho is absolutely right.

“Everything else aside, I would hate not to have another…encounter.” The pause is precise and intentional, so is the way Pacho softens his tone, and he feels like something just tickled the inside of his chest.

“I know.” His voice sounds deeper than intended. “Thank you.”

Pacho simply nods and turns away.

Calderoni holds the open bag, looking at the five tapes inside. “You have the other two?”

Miguel doesn’t miss the suspicion in the commander’s voice. This is still an interrogation, just under a different format and with a different goal.

“Of course. I had to put them away somewhere else.” He lies with ease, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t tell you where they are, Commander. You understand that, right?”

The way Calderoni stares at him in total disdain and rage makes Miguel wonder if he ever offended him personally without knowing, cause why else would this man be against him on such a personal level? He reminds himself to look into that later, but now isn’t the right time to ask.

“You can listen to them if you want to make sure.” He gestures at an audio cassette in the living room. “As I said, these will be enough to give the Americans what they want.”

Calderoni closes the bag, apparently not interested in listening. “And I suppose you can also give them who they want.”

That makes him silent for a while, not because he doesn’t know the answer. He knows, and he knows too well. There is only one option, only one person besides him who’s important enough to take the fall and look convincing on the surface. This is someone who hasn’t done a single bad thing to him, someone who absolutely doesn’t deserve it.

But he doesn’t deserve it either. He didn’t give the order to kidnap and torture a fucking DEA. The person who did will never take the blame for it, and that’s just how this fucking world works.

“Yeah, Don Neto. He’s in Puerto Vallarta now.” His voice is calm and even, but he senses the subtle shakiness in his chest as his heart beats rapidly. “He has 30 to 40 armed men with him. Your team can easily take them, and you…you need to capture him alive, for the Americans to see.”

Calderoni scoffs, cold and mocking. “One day, you will run out of people to sell.”

Maybe, but better than having someone sell him first.

“Commander. There’s something else.” He calls out as Calderoni turns to walk away. “I think we also need to discuss our long term plan here, don’t you agree?”

Calderoni glares at him as if he just grew another head. “You sold out someone to save your own ass, and what? You think we’re on the same fucking team now?!”

“But we are. The men on the other two tapes? They’re not stupid. Once your men arrest Neto and I walk free, these assholes in Mexico City will figure out what’s going on in no time.” He shrugs, carefully taking a few steps closer. “We are on the same team now, Commander, like it or not.”

Calderoni looks like he wants to kill him right now, with his bare hands, but that doesn’t scare Miguel anymore. There are a lot more who want the same thing. They just aren’t able to do it.

“After this is taken care of, I would like to borrow your army for a trip to Ensenada.”

The desert in Juárez feels familiar and welcoming as they land. Amado opens the cabin door, and waves of hot air strike him on the face immediately. He used to be so annoyed by it, but now he feels a sense of comfort, like he’s grounded again, in a safe way.

He greets the two guys waiting here to pick them up, but ignores their questions when they ask about his trip. He doesn’t want to share details with anyone he doesn’t completely trust. After all, this trip to Cali as a whole is supposed to be a secret. The drive back is mostly silent, which he appreciates, but there’s something else in the air that he can’t identify. It’s like the silence isn’t out of respect or consideration for him, but these guys don’t know what to say or how to act around him anymore.

A part of him wants to just ask them what the fuck’s going on, but he eventually decides against it. He will see Acosta in no time, and with everything that’s going on, it’s better to talk directly to the person in charge of the plaza. If he doesn’t even want to share anything with these guys himself, how can he trust whatever they tell him?

They pull into the gate just when he’s deep in his thoughts, and Acosta’s right there outside, wearing his full cowboy costume, brushing that white horse.

Amado gets out of the car, and Acosta just greets him with a simple nod. For a brief moment, he almost wants to say something cheeky or make a joke, but he manages to stop himself promptly, because that would have been a disaster. This isn’t Pacho or even Miguel. This is fucking Acosta.

He needs to get his head back to the right place.

“Hey, how are things going?” He walks over to Acosta and gives the horse a few friendly pets.

Acosta looks at him up and down, and then turns to look at the car where the two guys who picked him up earlier are now taking out his luggage.

“They didn’t tell you.”

Amado feels his heart drop. “Tell me what?”

Acosta takes off his cowboy hat, and then stands up, looking at him eye to eye. “They got Neto, about two hours ago.”

“They…got him?”

“No, they didn’t kill him.” Acosta quickly denies what he’s implying. “They found him in Puerto Vallarta and arrested him. I heard they’re taking him back to Guadalajara.”

“Oh.” The word comes out as a long sigh. He leans sideways on the ranch and takes off his sunglasses. “Well, we knew it was going to happen, right? Could have been worse.”

Acosta doesn’t respond, and he’s fine with letting silence surround them. Amado puts a cigarette between his lips and offers the pack to Acosta. The older man gives him a somewhat judgmental look, probably criticizing his choice of cigarettes, but takes one regardless.

Sunset paints the clouds into a variety of glorious shades, from burning red to dark orange. The edge between sky and ground gets blurry, like the clouds are lit up on fire along with the tips of their tiny cigarettes.

“How did it go with Cali?” Acosta finally asks, when the first glimpse of darkness starts to fall.

He blows out a large puff of smoke and huffs, without actually answering the question. He doesn’t need to.

“You gave it a shot,” Acosta drops the finished cigarette on the ground and steps it out, “and you made it back alive.”

Amado glances at him from the side under the last glimpse of sunlight, trying to figure out if he really meant what he said. But then he remembers: this is Acosta. The stubborn asshole always says what he means! However, that only brings more confusion. Is the bar really that low? The only expectation from a business meeting is to come back alive?!

“All of you motherfuckers with your big ideas, big plans…” Acosta takes out another cigarette from his own pocket and lights it up, clearly enjoying it a lot more than the one Amado gave him earlier. “All of you, will just do anything to get it.”

“I didn’t do anything!” He snaps, all of a sudden feeling incredibly insulted. Why the fuck does everyone think they can read him like an open book? What makes them believe they know him?

Acosta turns to him with a firm stare, not offended, just genuinely curious, and a bit challenging.

He sighs and takes a small step back, easing the tension. “I meant I didn’t agree with what they wanted. That was why we didn’t get the deal.”

He intentionally left out what exactly Pacho wanted, because he wasn’t sure how to explain to Acosta why he didn’t want to kill Miguel, so much that he threw away an opportunity to put Juárez on top of all plazas.

He can’t even fully explain to himself.

Acosta tilts his head slightly, barely noticeable under the cowboy hat, and for a moment, it seems like he’s not going to let that go easily, which makes sense. Why wouldn’t he want to know what Cali’s condition was that they couldn’t meet?

Eventually, however, he just adjusts his hats and turns away, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

“Well, whatever you didn’t agree to, Tijuana did.”

“They’re still having that meeting?”

“Two days later, in Ensenada.”

“You two vetted this gift two days ago, right?” Pacho taps his fingers on the black gift box, looking up at the two young sicarios standing in front of his armchair.

“Yes, Patrón.” One of them, presumably the braver one speaks. “Is there a problem?”

“What’s in it?”

They share a look with each other, both confused and nervous. “Two bottles of whiskey. They were both sealed when we checked.”

“That’s it?”

“…Yes, Patrón.”

“Alright, thank you.” Pacho gives them a comforting nod. “You’re free to go.”

The instant relief on their pretty faces is amusing, but not nearly as amusing as what’s inside the box.

Pacho takes the lid off once he’s alone again, smiling fondly at the gift.

A black leather pilot jacket.

Tag list: @ashlingiswriting @yourlocalspacewitxch @narcolini @mandaloria314 @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @alreadywritten @drabbles-mc @sikkui @dashavau @anunhealthydoseofangst (let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged for this story)

#narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos Mexico #narcos mexico fic #pacho herrera #amado carrillo fuentes #miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho x amado #amado x miguel

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thesolotomyhan · 2 years ago

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a/n: slowly coming back into it but i was writing something else on and off while i was away but i havent finished it so i just ultimately decided to do another one of these just because i love how i can focus on so many characters and just type away so have this while i figure some things out on my end for you all <3

warnings: theres only nsfw for like 2 characters but ill let you know lol

mayo: wedding :)

strap tf in because ever since writing that ramon wedding hc i have not stopped thinking about that topic but with my mayo and i have little to no shame to admit to you all that i have thought about his ass and a wedding subject more than once but i just never got around to it but 👀👀 lemme say i am having troubles with myself on deciding what i can briefly talk about and not get myself carried on writing a whole ass presentation,,,,, i just ,,,,, want to at least get an idea out here 👀 see if anyone could be interested 👀👀 but OHHHH i just i want to scream into the abyss when i think about this subject with HIM <\3 like me muero mE MUERO because i know for a mf’ing fact my consentido would call you “mi esposa” even before you two actually get married,,, like he’s emocionado about the whole thing as it leads up to that day :((( him introducing you to everyone new as like “mira, deja les presento a mi esposa,.... mi chula” :(( ,, this stupid smile on his face as he lets his arm wrap around your waist and keep you close to him as he introduces you when you two are barely engaged or something and i dont know why that makes me fall to my knees and sob,, wow and just imagining how this man would stress yet be as cool as anything to make this the most perfect day for you,,,because as i have kind of briefly gone over,,, once this mf actually falls in love, que hasta he forgets anyone else other than you exists,, you know marriage is not far from the path hes on,, and it just comes naturally,,, so when i imagine that the day does come,,, he makes this shit the biggest thing ever in sinaloa,, its going to last for dayssss,, complacendote in any and everything,, making sure to not have you have any stress on your head all day long,, he just wants to see you to be happy, blissful and smiling all day long because of him yyy ay cabron hold on,,,, i just without getting too into this knowing myself,,, can you all just take a minute and imagine the grand ass church/ceremony he would do this at,,, una pinche elegancia that even guero is questioning how much money this mf blew for your wedding day,,, el todo pinshe pienado :( the simple FucvinG waY HE would look at you throughout the whole thing like you just gave him the best regalo de la vida :((( him probably wanting to just hold your hand for all 24 hours of that day and more,,, the little glances and small smiles he would give you throughout the vows down until he can kiss you :((((((( and the reception yalll ayyy no,,, him not letting you be away from him for more than 2 inches,, :( walking around together como marido y mujer and shit :((( dancing to your song ,,,, the honeymoon after wards :))))))) ayyy GUEY im sorry ill stop i just- wedding+mayo=my entire heart and i dont want to dump that whole thing just yet on this available space i have here :(( but this has been my proposal on the idea :( ok bye now

rafa- (slight/only a mention because i cant stop myself)

ingasu ,,,, mi pinshe bonbonnnnnnnn ,,,, i have a need a want to get a ramble of thoughts out and this is what this is,, but dont worry ill come back for him when i have a straight mind and an actual structure of writing for him because OUGHHH how can i not? now wow get out of my mf’ing way here becauseeee lord just when i think the wakanda forever trailer couldnt top the idea of chadwicks tchalla character coming back again :( +++ the announcement they made that tenoch would be playing namor a while back,,,, these mf’s actually decided to kill me and add in namor’s character in the trailer as well when i had already fell to my kness at a walmart parking lot just by the first second of that trailer,, and i just descended upon the clouds themselves when i saw him my god i was not expecting to be fed so well early on,,, because now let me guide you all back to watch the trailer if you didnt catch a good ass glimpse like i did to look at this bitch’s physique ,,, like get a good fucking look at this mfs back,, yess his fuckin back ,, his damn shoulders i cRY YALL ,, thAT LaDies and gentlemen,, is a man ,, now LISTENNN I AM not a marvel blog whatsoever but i would be lying through my soul if i told yall those 2 second clips of him on that trailer awoke and brought back my unconditional love for him and what better than to add rafa back in this mf and let me respectfully simp for mi pelos chinos consentido de shulada de hombre again,, and i just- i couldnt contain myself imagining the wayyyyyy he would love to let you scratch his back :)) when hes pounding away at youuuuu but damn omg let me just stop,, lol that wasnt planned for him today because i knew this man radiated bde but namor???? tenoch ???? placed to finally extra cherry i needed on top because i just couldnt get that once scene where hes walking into that wedding party with his scarface suit on out of my mind for a while and i just- i could not handle the thought of the two of you turning heads everytime the two of you walk into a building or party because the radiationnnn,, its about the radiation you two set off when youre both walking into a party,, arms tangled into the other as you both walk in,, heads held high off the fucking ground,, both of your outfits being that high end material, that just compliments the others in a beautiful way ,, him leading you around either with you dangling off his arm :) or leading you sit down so you dont get tired :) but ughhh his dumbass smile never wiping off his face because he knows everyone is staring at the two of you ,,just him having a thing for showing you off and it’s the best damn feeling when it’s neither of you trying,, it comes natural with they way the aura is set around you two when you walk into a place and that sets me off,,, And wow,, thank you for coming to my brief brain fart session,, take what i told you today as a topic starter with me

amado: baile/jaripeo

ayyyy hasta pego un grito de los buenos imagining something like this with him :( and maybe it’s just meeee because ive been keeping busy going to these and all ;) but imagining pinshe amado going with you :) bailando to like a banda song or something,(im imagining something like y llegaste tu or something more movidita like ayer la vi por la calle because the vueltas would be more fast paced ya know? and i know only maybe a few people are going to understand what im talking about so im sorry if you’re questioning wtf im even saying right now lol) but anyways i just imagine he would have his arm wrapped around your back and just holding you close to him when he does he vueltas or the small steps to the rhythm ya know? leading you around the steps, :( his other hand is just holding una pinshe chela bien fria+ not me imagining how the thought of him drinking his chela while dancing with you had me in a grip im sorry ,,,, and aughhH its something about that image, and the thought of your steps being in unison and flowing as smooth as possible hmnnnn,,,, him vestido de negro because he knows no other colors,, his shirt slightly opened with that chain he has on showing fff- hair slightly down but with that natural flow he has going on with it, your frame being whisked away by his tall ass, and like the hand thats wrapped around you ocsassionaly going down and resting on top of your ass ay his little gold watch glowing from the sun or something and wow ,, his own little smirk plastered onto his face and all, when he tightens his hold around you his reina AUGH,,,,, all while one of your hands are holding the back of his neck, your other on his shoulder ,, you just letting him lead you away, your own small smile on your face ugh byE, i love that image,,,, the two of you probably even lean in to kiss the other when you want ay,,, lowkey humming the songs too and bye i want this with him

ramon:

yall im so sorry to be in my feelings today but i have been bombarded and read up a lot of nsfw things for ramon lately in this AO and i just lets take a minute to breathe ok you horndogs ,, let me dip my fingers in atleast into these waters slowly again before we go back out into that region once more becauseeeeee i just wanted to voice something on mi niño enamorado because it occurred to me while i was writing this other hc i have in the works and i just, i couldnt help but have the itch to imagine ramon being soft with quality time guys,,, quality time in a relationship is something i see ramon loving to do because he may be rich and seem like the type to be boujee on all his dates which sure,, he might do the first few times with you and all that,, but eventually for him,, to be in the mere presence of you is something he breathes off of and never wants to go without , so let me unroll this out for you all,, because the first thing,,, is the thought of him obviously loving to go out to clubs with you,, i feel as though this has been thoroughly established enough just because of the thought of the two of you being dressed to the ninesss,, hanging off of the other, and dancing up on the other in that close space with the beat of the music surrounding you two,, makes it a whole vibe alright,, and even if you dont want to dance,, the thought of just having you sitting on his lap or right next to him up on the vip section, dressed up but sitting prettily against him as he has an arm wrapped around you is just POETRY, or when youre not with him,, maybe you went to get yourself a drink,, you looking back to wheres he just watching you,, you giving him this soft ass smile and his enamorado ass just flashing you a smile back, eyes lit up with that small glint and all ayy no le da orgullo al cabron that hes the one youre with :))) or in this second example,, having those video game dates :( because we’ve seen that being consistent with him because in s1 he has going crazy on that retro ass game and in s3 he had his little console :( and ughhh i just couldnt help but almost cry at the thought of him wanting to play video games with you as a date :((( the two of you having the loudest but friendly arguments that it echoes around the house as you play against the other,, a shit ton of snacks dispersed all around the floor of the two of you as you both are solely focused on getting the upper hand on the other, smiles on your faces as you both sit next to eachother on the ground probably from how intense it could get,, the two of you probably sabotage the other in a friendly way just to hear the other scream as one of you gets closer to first place ay no i cry at that thought because those are definitely going to be core memories <like even the juniors probably even join in when they come around> :( or even on example #3,,, the thought of having dates over at the others house,, and just cuddled up like,, him laying back with you sitting in between his legs, your back to his chest, curled into him and just watching like ,,,, cartoons :( probably with even more snacks spread out all over the place,,, the volume of the tv damn near filling up the whole house, both of your laughters following after when something happens on the tv, im sorry yall i cry to all of this because its just small moments or even big moments are the biggest thing for him when it comes to you,, doesnt matter as long as hes with you and youre both having fun :(((( se enamora mas mi niño bye (also im totally not listening to ojitos lindos by bad bunny and bawling my eyes out because that is my bebes song that describes what imagine him being for you his nena :((( )

benjamin:

slow mornings yalL SLOW MORNINGSSSSSSS with benjamin,,,,, allow me to sob but explain because i just get so sentimental and soft around this man, i love him and cherish him but wow,,, now i know you all can tell hes a puntual type of man,, hes never late to shit,, hes on time about everything and i just feel like he likes to be busy doing things all the time so much that he never catches a break because then he would have a breakdown if he even just sits back for once so :))) the thought of you being the cause for a slow morning once for him that unravels his want to do them from then on just :( sets me,,,, and while slow mornings with him i can picture things like maybe just the two of you cuddling in bed,, getting breakfast sent up to the two of you as you just bask in eachother presence :(( or something like the two of you watching the other get ready,,, dropping kisses on eachother every time you pass eachother in the bedroom,, him on his part slacking tf off when he watches you simply brush your hair out or just pick out something for the day to wear when youre just wearing his shirt:( because he definitely just stares at you longingly/lovingly and him def coming up behind you to hug you and just kiss you ughh these are most definitely not off the table but for todays focus,, i just want to say something and start us out on how we got to that stage because like dont you dare say to me otherwise that he doesnt sleep without touching some part of you or holding you,,, because the generic type of sleep i see him getting is either when youre sleeping on his chest :( or him spooning you from behind and holding you from when he sleeps and shuts his eyes to until he wakes up and has to go ya know,,, and :( i just imagine him waking up before you,, his hair being a big tangled mess, he would have an arm under you to keep you from rolling off his chest :(,, his other hand might be holding yours thats resting on his chest :( im - him just breathing in a deep breath from where he has his face buried into your hair :(,, giving you a small kiss on the top of your head as he just gives you these soft h e a r t eyes as he stares down at your sleeping form :((( stop no one look at me,, and i just imagine him doing like a deep sigh because he lowkey wouldnt want to leave the bed or you,, :((( but him either way, slightly moving out of bed,, but at the slowest rate possible because he doesnt want to wake you up :((( and ughhh him already feeling bad once he feels your arm tighten around him,, youre doing a long sigh signifying your waking up :( and ay no as soon as you open your eyes youre met with his sorry ones :( and your voice asking him where hes going his ass is already sitting hismelf back down telling you he has to go :( but me and him would be lying if he wouldnt go back in bed with you if you asked him,, and omg, i cant because the way you would quite literally tug him back down,, you groggily looking up at him con esos ojitos :( asking him another 30 minutes wont hurt him,, you bet hes smiling down at you and laying down again :(( not even worrying if those 30 minutes turn into an hour as long as youre happy and keep him in place :((( i just- wow this mf turns into a puddle when it comes to you i dont know

kitty:

now heh i wasnt exactly targeting something exact for him, but i just fell into the mood in wanting to write something for him right now in these blurbs and i just went with what came to mind on the spot which is making out :))) because he def gives off that vibe of wanting to be attached to your lips constantly it’s almost something everyone has to be prepared to walk into when they’re looking for either of you two at some point in time but also because i just want to imagine some soft shit like this where neither of you have to do more other than kissing if you dont feel like it,, its just a way of outing your love for the other by kissing :( a physical thinggg ya know? but either way i imagine the way hes still giving you those ojitos :( , small smile on his face when he leans back away from you just to gaze upon you :( ughh and honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if it’s one of the essential building blocks in your relationship with him im sorry,,, because get this, im just imagining him sitting on the couch, slouched back, with you on top of him :) both of you fully clothed just slightly messy,,, his hands having trouble focusing if they want to rest on your ass or wander up your back, your own hands moving away from his chest :) to hold the side of his face :) the both of you probably having these irresistible smiles as you try to keep kissing the other but instead little breathless giggles keep escaping from the both of you ugh im sorry but :( the thought of him moving one of his hands to cup the side of your face when you both slightly lean away from the other and just stupidly smile as you both look at the other,, a light warmth spreading across both of your faces and cheeks from how close you both were,,, the intimacy of it all making you both go on a high and just want to keep your kissing session going,, him having literal soft he a rt eyes as he just stares up at you :( his other arm securing you even closer to him and his voice coming out lightly and scratchy like “te amo bebe” :(((( bye no one touch me right now

barron: (***nsfw)

now listen up my barron fuckers i was going to do a whole soft blurb type of thing right now for him but i know some of you guys are probably on the edge of hitting me across the face for taking my dandy ass time on his nsfw hc,, so im gving you all a small dose today just to tame some hairs alright? alright cool,, because doggy style? is our topic for today and it just almost screams his name off for me on this topic,, because for one, it’s a rough and dominant vibe that goes along with him just right that it will guarantee to make you lose all common sense and make you sore for the next week but also secondly ,,it gives him a view of being able to see your whole body from behind :) with your ass up in the air :) your hands digging into the material underneath you as youre on all fours :)) him having a death grip on your hips as he pumps into you,,, him def pushing your head back down onto the pillows by tangling his hand into your hair if you start to come up just so he can have that arch for you :)) and ughhh i dont know the thought of you moving one of your hands above you to just grip the sheets as he has you in that position,, your other hand :) coming to lay itself on top of one of his hands on your hip :)) threading your fingers through his and just tightening your grip onto his as he pumps into you in that rough and steady pace ugh,, you :) moving your head to the side and looking over your shoulder at him :) moans spilling past your lips as you scrunch your face together,,, throwing a small smile his way from the way hes making you feel hnnngg,,, omg him leaning his frame over you :)) one of his hands coming to hold your hand thats above your head on the sheets,, his other hand thats threading with yours just guiding you down to touch your swollen clit :) him helping you apply the right amount of pressure that it gets your eyes to roll back as he continues to thrust into you at an angle now,, fuuuc- him biting along that part of your skin where your shoulder meets your neck, just breathing heavily into your ear as your lewd moans continue to come out of you uncontroablly im sorry for this wow

arturo: (***nsfw)

yeeeeeahhhhh :) giving you 3 total arturo fuckers a taste as well because he is a car sex type of beat and im sorry because his pinshes camisas wangas get me , if you know you know,, :)) like you running your hand over his chest underneath hiss shirt as youre on top of him :) neither of you separating from this make out session between the two of you,, the heavy breathing you both would be doing would not help at all but just make the windows fog up,,, him :) struggling to lift this skirt you would be wearing as youre grinding away on top of him with your legs on either side of him,, his groans encouraging you even more and your soft moans only urging him to fumble against you even more :)and hnnnngg i cant at the thought of him bringing his lips away from yours to kiss your chest,, hurriedly moving your top away from your skin just so he can see the way your breasts spill out for him :) his hands moving to cusp your ass and lift your hips up :) letting him slide into you :) him hissing out into you when he feels your nails dig into his chest :) his name rolling of your lips :) when you toss your head back slightly when you feel him bottom out :) wow his grip just roughly kneading your skin,, getting you to lightly grind your hips against his to get you comfortable :) and just slowly building momentum up until he can have you bouncing on top of him :))) him continuing to leave small marks on your chest as he thrusts up into you,,, his eyes constantly looking up at you so he can focus on your face,,, audibly grunting out when he feels the pressure continuing to grow as you palm his chest :) your head tilting back down to look at him as you begin to meet his thrusts halfway :)) your entire face just scrunching up as you start to become more and more desperate and youre not sure if its because of the constant rough pumping of him and the way he just has you fucking yourself on top of him or if its because of the heat kicking up a few notches from both your heavy breathing and movements in such a confined space but either way it has you both holding the other like a damn lifeline that bound to explode any minute and i just - wow

güero:

here i go again with yet another pair-able soft topic for him,,,, god man :/ im sorry but güero and benjamin remind me of eachother so much i sometimes mix up writing ideas/topics of the two of them and i just thought i could share that to see if anyone else can relate to me because for one try and convince me otherwise this man,, mi güerito, mi hector is not the most love blinded soul that there is here,, try and tell me he is not the type of partner that is going to put you above all else simply because he’s that infatuated with you and head over heels twice in love with you,, this mf probably has a whole ass wedding plan ready by the first hour of your first date you ever had with him because he would have that sense of when he’s found his one and only :(( try to sit there and tell me he is not late for the most important or little things just because he was so caught up trying to button up his dress shirt but failing to do so at the end of the bed because you were 2 feet away from him getting ready yourself or brushing your hair out because he stops all and any process he was doing simply because he was off in his own world looking at you with that soft enamorado look in his eyes that his eyes would fucking dilate because they’re cast upon you :( ,,, and if he could he would turn into a mush puddle of himself if you catch him looking and flash him a soft smile through the mirror or look over your shoulder at him and give him heart eyes back because i shake at the overwhelming feeling he would feel at that moment because his favorite person, el amor de su vida loves him back the same way he does and that makes his love for you grow every damn day :((( please convince me that he isn’t the type that when you walk into the room while he’s negotiating or talking with some of the guys about the business that he totally doesn’t just forget the conversation at hand,, let his thoughts run off into emptiness and simply just let his eyes zone in on you because you take his breath away it physically hurts his heart to tear his eyes away from you,, his tesoro de su vida :( or that he won’t just drop whatever conversation or task at hand whenever he hears you call his name out because if he’s going to listen to you and help you with whatever problem or question you have, he should give you his 101% attention with that soft low voice of his going “aqui estoy, que paso mi amor” while bringing his hand out to hold yours and guide you towards him so you stand in between his legs :(((,, allowing you the option of you want to sit on his lap so he can wrap his arm around you,, the everlasting longing look in his face if you reach your other hand out and caress the side of his face omg it would make him feel like you gave him the literal tierra y mar to make a planet out of love for you and i crY i absolutely literally bawl to him ayy no GÜEY CALLENSE ill stop here because i have a feeling i could go on for a good hot hour if i continue for my soft bebe :(

miguel angel:

mmmm this man too,, it’s been a hot minute since ive acknowledged him and it’s only because recently i saw an old gif set of him,, and i just couldn’t help but feel incapacitated because i saw that teasing glint in his eyes that he sometimes has and aughh,,,, so for todays focus i wanted to zero in on reassurance because this man would lowkey be a whore for it since he has so many walls built around him, but also because there’s a lot of ways this can go about and i feel vulnerable just thinking about it with him,,, like on exhibit a . i can imagine this going down when he’s doing those business meetings but over dinner type of setting you know? like it could be him stressing over it, or him on the edge of lashing out over some dumb shit his business partner just slipped out,, but i just imagine you :( discreetly moving your hand under the table, gently placing your hand on his thigh or even moving to hold his hand on top of the table like it’s a normal pda thing but for him it’s everything,, but either way when it comes from you it has this calm manner that you wash over him that it just automatically makes his temper go away and be at ease because youre right there with him acting like his personal rock, something I’ve always connected with him when he’s in a relationship :( and this would be one of those examples :( because i just imagine him letting his physical tension go away at that second and glance over at you and it’s like everything wrong just goes away in that second :( i dont know man i just im soft for that type of feeling :( or take exhibit b. as another way i can see this, like you know those times where we sometimes see him panicking before he has to do some big negotiation that could change the business ? yeah , i can just picture something where he’s just waiting for the seconds that feel like hours to him , to count down until he has to leave, but he’s already dressed up but he wouldn’t have his suit jacket on because he feels like the room is burning up, and it’s just so much stress that his collar of his shirt is untucked, his previously slicked back hair is slowly coming out of place, him pacing back and forth, probably muttering so much nonsense inside his head he doesn’t even notice that you walked in the room 5 minutes ago and have been staring him down, slightly worried :( and it’s not until you actually walk up to him, saying his name a bit louder while you place a hand on his shoulder to get him to stop moving that he actually comes back down to earth at that moment :( you seeing this slight panic and vulnerable look in his eyes as you smooth the worry lines over his face :( and just ,,, you giving him. this soft reassuring smile as like a quiet signal for him to blurt out whatever is on his mind (acting like his fucking rock im telling you) :( and youre just fixing him up again, straightening his shirt to look as sharp as ever, smoothing back his hair as you just listen to him and give him some slight encouragement that there’s nothing to worry about :( he’s just overthinking shit and omg i cant because i just imagine this soft loving ass look he’s shooting you with when he hears your soft voice speak back to him, fixing him up better than ever and you don’t even know, you have not a single clue just how much your apoyo and even just the small little things you do help him in more ways than one and just :( you give him the need to push but also be the person for him to let his worries out to with no shame and just breathe for once and i just i love that im sorry yall

enedina:

hahaaa surprise yallll, i actaully decided and braved up to write some words for her today and I’m going to see for the first time if it all works out, so naturally for me so i can feel comfortable and build up from here, we’ll start small, and i wanted to begin with something similar like miguel angel, but platonically and sibling-like for mi reina today,, because oooO the thought of being siblings and having this special bond with her put me in a mood, because when i think of you being siblings with her and how she carries herself,, she definitely ends up reflecting all of that attitude and confidence down onto you,, who she looks at like her hermanita/o no matter what age you reach,, you will always be her bebe who she looks over but makes her right hand man in anything and everything,, so getting quite to the point and cutting things briefly before i make a whole ass essay on being siblings with dina and what adventures that brings i want to set some examples because what does being her right hand mean? what does being her person to lay back on and talk about everything that comes to mind with? :( not only does it mean the two do you are always around eachother like a package duo,,, but it means that she’s always talking aloud everything to you, no matter if it’s the business, what she did last night, or the most random shit but she’s always speaking freely to you and you right back at her :( *special bonding moment sorry* and im sorry to take quite a turn here, :((( but :( that scene where she’s just absolutely devastated when she lost claudio :( not talking to anyone at all :( it doesn’t mean she shuts you out :( because :( you know how i said that her personality def rubbed off on you ? :( it means youre quite fuckkng stubborn when it comes down to shit like this with her,,, that youre the only one she actually lets in :( like I’m imagining you sneaking into her room in the early morning after it all happened :( giving her the tightest hug :( and just letting her break down into you :( and like you know when she’s watching her wedding tape back again? and she’s crying :( i imagine she would be laying her head in your lap :( hugging you :( while she has your arms wrapped around her, just quietly comforting her :( being her rock :( and it just feels like a refresher almost because she knows she doesn’t have to talk at all with you, because you would know her so well, and know how to comfort her at the right temperature until she’s ready :( and ughhh yeah :( i dont know :(

tag list: @coaxium-captain-rex @visintaes @sheeshgivemeabreak @artemiseamoon @wtfisgoingonlol @boomclapxox @carlislecullenisadilf @ashlingiswriting

miguel angel tag: @all-tings-diego @xbeyondthegatex

amado tag: @mylovepedro

arellano tag: @tinylittleobsessions @curaheed @yourlocalspacewitxch

benjamin tag: @criatividad-e

let me know if you want to be added!

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mmasalva · 3 years ago

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song: teachers pet by melanie martinez

#miguel angel felix gallardo #diego luna #amado carrillo fuentes #jose maria yazpik #ismael zambada #alberto guerra #narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico x reader

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moonlesslights · 3 years ago

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Only love can hurt like this (Amado Carrillo x Reader)

Summary: Carrillo drags you to an unprevisted mission where the decision of which side you are on is finally in your hands.

(Reader is an agent of the DEA, and we are ubicated in Mexico for this).

Warnings: Love triangle (AmadoxReaderxHoracio), some mentions of sex, angst, fluff.

...

“There is nothing here” You whisper, not knowing if you are trying to convice Horacio or yourself.

In front of you, the house you have walked in so many times takes form between shadows of the rising sunset. You have memories in every corner of every room, laughs echoing in your ears, words you still carry next to your heart.

“He is. And he is not going anywhere” He scoffs back, making his way two steps ahead of you.

Your eyes wander to the windows surrounding the lounge you were into right know, watching from the second floor the silhouettes of the men Coronel Carillo trusted the most and their cars parked among the beautiful gardens of the house. You clench your jaw trying so hard to stop the frowning taking place on your features; but you just can’t fight it for too long. This isn’t your home, you wanted to say, leave us alone.

“It is still hot” Your head turns to Horacio again, following his voice. The man kicks down some logs off the fireplace only to reaveal incandescent ashes that are fired through the room. “He is here.”

You feel your stomach sinking, hurting. No. He can’t be here. He knew it was too dangerous, he knew it wasn’t safe to be in this city while Carrillo was looking for him... But he also knew you were here. “You really think he is going to leave you here?” You could hear your brother repeating those words to you. Felix’s face pointing to Amado playing with his kids and María at the table. “Traes a ese bato de los huevos”

Maybe you should have insisted more, maybe you should have screamed at him until he took all of his damn black shirts and got his ass up on a plane to the center of the jungle. But no, you got lost trying to eliminate all of the evidence of him and the Arellano brothers, trying so hard to lead Horacio away from them that you ended up missing the moment you failed... And the Coronel found his own way to Amado. El cabrón that never left.

“Where is your gun?”

“Uh?”

Carrillo raises an eyebrow and your gaze drops to your hands, empty. Weight on you hip is the only thing that warns you about your gun still on its rest position. Of course, you walked in this house without even feeling the impulse of taking it out of there, like you would even use it.

“I’m sorry” You answer vaguely, not being able to look into his eyes.

“We have little time before someone alerts we are here, I need you with me.” The words hit you like a train. You frown.

“You need me?” You think, wanting to spit in his face. “Now you need me?”. Your hands still clench in fury to remember his voice telling you then, in Colombia, that you just couldn’t be in his team anymore, not only breaking up with you in that very moment, almost in front of Javier and Steve; but also telling how distracting you were for him, how the relationship was only messing up everything. Yes, you still remember screaming in frustration when he prevented you to go on the mission Pablo was shot to dead, watching your work melting into nothing when your name just disappeared between the agents that helped to catch him.

The voice of Felix at the other side of the line, telling you that it was better for you to be out of sight, that he knew everything you did, that you accomplished your own mission and your Cali’ friends will be very happy with the news, it wasn’t enough.

You did hate Pablo Escobar. He was a murderer, a guy that didn’t deserve anything in life, and when you and Javi spent years together, risking everything only to bring justice, crying at night when it was all too much, seeing the sun rise in front of the office after you two stayed the whole night just in need a god damn track; well, you got hopeful it would be you three who’ll catch him. And hope it is always a double sided coin.

So when Horacio took the lead and in the blink of an eye, you fell in love with the same man that would break your heart twice, things started to get out of hand. Thinking it would be on your favor knowing him, getting involve, so you could always be part of the investigation, to know the next move and alert Pacho and the others of being necessary, you grow close to him. And it was okay, it was working, yes; until Carrillo kissed you and your world fell apart.

You loved him. There is nothing to argue about it. But you also learned to hate him. So much. Because when you finally thought it was all behind, that he wouldn’t bring any more grief to your life, he followed you home, in Mexico. And now he wasn’t chasing Pablo, now he wasn’t asking you to catch a terroris t. Now he was chasing your brother, now he was asking you to catch your lover. And it would be a total lie to say that that fact didn’t complete piss you off.

“We should split up.” You suggest, looking at him. “It would be easy to find him”

He chuckles, gazing at you from the corner of his eye.

“And would you tell me you found him?” He asks.

“What?”

“Would you tell me you found him?” He repeats, walking a few steps on your direction.

“Yes. What the hell are you talking about?” You speak back.

He then remains quiet, looking at you with an indescifrable expression. Your heart is racing in your chest, thinking about all the possibilities of the mean of his words. He hardens his features, pursing his lips before he states:

“I don’t trust you”.

You have to fight the smile threatening to climb onto your face.

“I don’t trust you either.” He nods, lowering his eyes for imperceptible seconds.

“We are not splitting up. I’m going to put a bullet in his skull when I find him.” Carrillo mutters, sarcastic.

You have known him for so long and you still don’t get used to how easy he takes being in life or death situations. Because you are not, because you want to throw up at the security in his statement.

“I don’t think there’s a need for that.” Good God.

Your breath gets stuck in your lungs. So hard it makes your chest hurt as you feel the color draining from your face.

Even when Horacio turns to the stairs at your back and raises his gun ready to pull the trigger, it takes you a good few seconds just to collect the right amount of courage to look back.

You know it is going to be him there, you knew his voice, you knew the feeling of his presence in the back of your neck. Amado, Amado, Amado…

The thing is: Nothing of it matters, because the moment you see his eyes narrowing at you in the growing darkness, you still feel a bullet hitting your throat in the most cruel and painful way.

“Get down!” It is the scream right beside your ear that makes you look away, wake up again to this reality.

“I’m unarmed.” Amado assures, maintaining his hands up and open.

“Don’t fucking move.” Carrillo warns anyways, taking careful steps in his direction.

You look at him, incapable of doing shit. Your brain working as fast as it can, looking for options, for answers and an scape plan for fucking Tontín.

“I’m here. This doesn’t have to take any more lives.” Amado keeps his voice low, certain. “It’s me who you want.”

“I don’t think I can agree with that.” The Coronel tilts his head, raising the gun up to Amado’s head. “Some of your men may be more open to talk than you.”

Amado keeps and indifferent expression but you can see his features darkening.

“The men here haven’t killed or done anything, some of them are kids. Let them go and I’ll talk.”

You look at him and his eyes are directed to you for only a millisecond, and your heart crushes in your chest. Ah.

He wasn’t just trying to protect his men, he was trying to protect you. Of course he knew his men were loyal, but Carrillo was here, and the man was only good for one thing: torture. And not even all the money in the world was going to keep everyone with the mouth close. Your name was going to fall, one way or another. And it would be all over.

But I won’t, he wanted to tell you, you are safe with me, because I won’t tell how many times I have loved you behind these walls. Observing your silhouette from his position, he can feel you. Closing his eyes, he can still see you there.

Amado’s eyes go to look to the windows, the sound of careful steps and indistinct chatters just confirm his thoughts. There were too few men around the house for this to be an authorized operation. Carrillo was too smart to let this pass once he knew he was here, obviously not wanting to ask for an order and risk his intentions to be known by Amado.

“I don’t think you don’t know how this is going to work, malparido.” The Coronel smirks.

“Believe me, let them go and most of them will keep their mouth shut when others like me come looking for you.” Amado tilts his head “Te va a comprar tiempo, pues.”

“What are you playing to?” Horacio asks, more to himself this time.

Amado gulps, pursing his lips. With a gun pointed to his head, pointed by no one else than the Coronel Horacio Carrillo, he expected cold sweat on his temple, fingers tingling or racing heart bumping in his chest… But nothing was happening. Rhythmically, the muscle beats one, two, three times and it doesn’t seem to flinch at the thought: This is it.

The reason was, probably, too well know by his own mind that didn’t bother him anymore. It never did, it just came for him one day, looking at you sleeping on the passenger seat, snoring softly, when his chest got warm at the realization: You were totally asleep, unconscious and indifferent of his actions at the wheel. You trusted him that, you fell asleep knowing you will be okay with him there. It was that day he continued his way making everything on his power to make himself sure that you didn’t make a mistake. Not with him. That choosing him was the right decision.

“La suerte se acaba, sooner or later, Coronel.” He comforts, drawing his eyebrows together. “And let’s be honest, this was a good strike, but it wasn’t the cleanest one, verdad?”

Horacio wasn’t a man know for fearing of the system nor his superiors, but this was Mexico, and things were so different here. If Amado gets to the police, he’s not putting a single foot in jail, in less than an hour he would be out in the street again, that’s exactly why he decided to make of this operation his call: He’s not taking Amado to the justice, he’s only going to a damp basement where he will be interrogated in a much more effective way. And even though he’s eager for answers, the process isn’t safe, the operation was risky and his name will figure as the top enemy again.

Mistakes were and will be done. And he can’t get killed for it, not yet.

“We’ll see what can we do for your men. No more than little rats between all this, right?” Carrillo mocks, now, inspecting Amado’s position, who nods at his words.

What are you doing?, What were you thinking?, you want to ask, scream, at him. How was he so confortable with that idea right now?, all while you plead for some kind of miracle, to wake up, to make everyone forget, to just fucking get shot just so he can take the distraction and run from Horacio.

But nothing happens, and your options start to disappear with the same facility they came in.

Then, Carrillo looks at you, frowning. His free hand moves and gives you a sign to get close.

“Give me the handcuffs.” He orders, pointing to the metal piece on your hip.

Your hand tries to reach for the safety at least two times before you get it right. Yes, it is until that moment that you realize how bad your trembling is. Horacio was going to notice and you just were so fucking scared.

You never thought this day would come, maybe, that you would’ve been here, seeing how Amado Carrillo Fuentes gets handcuffed by one of the most feared men in the Narco’s world. That you would see his fall. You just never thought today, in the morning, while drinking your coffee and staring at his photo on one of the blackboards, that ten hours later you would be seeing him in person again, like this.

The thing is, when you came back to Mexico and began to know and catch up on what your brother had been building here, you weren’t really looking for someone. Specially not after what happened with Horacio. But you did know Amado, you always did: He talked with Pacho a lot while you were undercover in Colombia. You and the Cali guys tended to laugh at how oblivious Amado was that the girl sitting with them at the business table was no less than Miguel Ángel’ sister.

So obviously, when you came back and Amado was told everything, he was pissed. He ranted about how little trust was put on him and how all of the plazas would be hearing about the audacity… Until they didn’t.

He did, in fact, not speak to Felix for about two weeks until he began to listen and understand motives, but mostly because he visited you a lot and you were living in Miguel’s house, so he had to see his stupid face all the time. And also, you could add, Felix was clueless Amado was mad at him, so he talked to him like nothing was happening while your favorite guy in black held himself from throwing hands.

So he stayed. You both got to know each other more, talking for hours about everything you could think of: your childhood, your friends, the business, y’know, even gossiping about all of the plazas. You could listen to him every day, ranting about the problems with the planes, with the routes, with an asshole that let himself catch, anything; oh, but you never get to listen when he talked with Mayo and Felix about how smart you were, how beautiful you looked wishing for the printer to die or how your voice was so calming to hear. You never saw how he looked at you, how he started to fall in love with your kindness and curiosity for everything, for your adoration to the smallest things in life.

You were so different from anything he had seen before. So clumsy that he wondered how the hell you were still alive. So determined he would choose you to lead all the god damn plazas if you wanted. You trusted to much that he was scared someone would hurt you. You were so cunning he trusted in every choice you made, following you blindfolded.

So, this time, he didn’t doubt to nod at you when the handcuffs were hanging from your fingers, Carrillo already outstretching towards them. “Está bien” he motions, “está bien”… Except, it wasn’t.

The metal slips off your skin, colliding against the wooden floor at your feet in two hits that freeze these very seconds. Horacio’s eyes follow the artefact on its way down, slowly starting to frown at the action while you gaze at Amado, trapped in his dark pupils. One hit. “No” He motions again, facing the defeat. “When did I ever listen to you?, when did you ever listen?” You wish to ask. Two hits.

In just what for you now it’s a reflect, your hand reaches for the grip of your gun, taking it out when Amado’s firm voice shouts a short and demanding “No!” at you.

Carrillo’s expression changes with violence, glancing at the Narco’ Lord an instant before the cold canyon holded in your hands its pointed to his very temple. A click accompanying the movement of your thumb gives him the one clear sign.

Carrillo raises his eyebrows, letting his lips part for a desperate gulp of air. His eyes focus slowly on you and his loaded hand wavers in its position. The surprise that seizes his expression allows you to see that side of him, so vulnerable, that for so long you wished to be able to touch, even if it was for a few mere seconds.

“What are you doing?” His voice is purely a whisper above the wind. You open your mouth, believing you could just explain, that you could make up a valid excuse to betray everything and everyone you ever fought for. But you can’t make a single noise and Horacio disbelief starts to hit on his gut “Are you fucking kidding me!?”

You flinch a step back as an instinct, but your finger keeps a safe pressure on the trigger. You wish you could look at Amado but the fear of any movements Carrillo could make during just a second of your distraction keeps your eyes glued to his face. A betrayed face.

How dare he look so hurt?, with his brows drawn together and his lips parted. You can swear if you listened closely, his racing heartbeat would echo off the walls. And the vision is killing you, because three years ago you would have sworn that you would share your entire life with this man; because two years ago you shared the same expression that his face bears now. And it was killing you.

Amado tries to move, stomping towards you calmly, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Horacio reaffirms the gun in his hand, turning to see him threateningly, rectifying in an expression that he would not hesitate to pull the trigger right there if Amado gave him a sufficient excuse to do so.

"Coronel, is everything okay, sir?" Footsteps approaching at alarming speed from the ground floor crown the damn situation. "Coronel, shall we proceed with immediate support?"

Your face pales at the threat of the intruder about to enter the room. Horacio's eyes remain looking at you, he doesn't flinch for a second and it's because he knows, because he must know that as soon as that soldier puts both feet on the last step, the situation will turn 180 degrees. He will have the upper hand again and it would be game over for you and Amado.

But Carrillo's head was far from starting to think about the only option in which you could. The voice coming up the stairs is distant but it awakens his senses quickly, senses that seemed numbed to the one now holding a gun to his head. What are you doing, what are you doing, what are you doing...?

The second step in line creaked under the weight of a soldier, but the voices below told him that more than one were following him. His eyes dart at the shadows that kept asking for an answer to his name; just for a second, before returning to the front and losing the air when colliding, stopping against your wet lashes and suffocating irises that seemed to want to drink him whole.

Remember. He remembers. Everything. The sunny morning of the first day he saw you, scolding Javier Peña for not having ordered the documents the office needed while Agent Murphy held his stomach, laughing at the top of his lungs. He remembers the way your eyes found his... The way you smiled. Without warning, without a reason: You saw him and you smiled. Welcoming him so simply, so informally, it seemed like he was approaching an old group of friends rather than the officers tasked with telling him where to shoot.

He shook your hand and listened to every word that left your lips, amazed at the ease with which you handled any topic in the investigation, laying out information on each of the targets and expanding all the cards on the table before he could even think of one.

You were so different from anything he had ever seen before. A little light of hope among the horror that was lived. A pause for the restlessness of his nights, when you two spent hours locked in a car praying that the targets would just decide to leave their home at any given moment. Moons passed for the first time you made him laugh, other suns more when he decided to tell you the only joke he seemed to know, only in an attempt to be the cause of that thunderous laugh that characterized you. That was also the first day you hugged him goodbye, just like you did with Murphy and Peña, just like he hadn't hugged anyone in a long time. And you smiled, again, all the time; making him search for you like a fucking teenager.

And then he saw you crying, for the first time, and realized that he cared about you, that it hurt him, and that helplessness bothered him. And then he kissed you, for the first time, and realized that he had fallen in love with you, that between sheets and long nights, the only thing he wanted to see there before closing his eyes were you. And so, when you ventured into an ambush with the DEA and one of the hitmen managed to put two bullets in your body, things became clear right in front of him. The way he yelled at Javier for having carried out such a mission without his knowledge, for having put your life in danger in that way... Everything coincided with his heart wanting to escape from his own chest. Because when he saw you, asleep, breathing heavily, his soul was crushed; and when your eyelids fluttered limply at him, and your eyes shone at the sight of him, his legs went weak. And he realized that he loved you, with every little bit of his entire strength, he loved you.

So it wasn't fair, he knew, it wasn't fair for him to cut you off from the investigation and his team in a vile attempt to protect you, to keep safe the one thing that kept him fighting. It was selfish and ruin, but it was the only thing that would keep you alive. And with the list of attacks on those involved in Pablo's arrest growing daily, his mind was made up. You were out.

And what better than closing with a flourish and ending the relationship once and for all? You would never be able to forgive him, in any way, and he would become the main target for many in a short time. One thing is offset by the other and you, safe. He was determined, he was sure that in the end, all this would keep you out. But my God, with you nothing could ever be so easy.

After Javier was removed from the investigation, you were sure that they were not going to do the same to you. Out of loyalty to your brother and for screwing Horacio up even more in a game where he thought he was the only shooter... You weren't going to leave Colombia.

And he should have expected it, but he didn't. And he hated you for every time you called a superior to preserve a position, whatever it was, within the team. And he adored you even more for the way you stood up to him, the way you dusted yourself off and told him to go to hell.

So that was the problem, wasn't it? He adored every little bit of you, admired you, loved you. He loved your determination, your freedom, and who was he then to change you? If it was him alone who got stuck in time, loving on as cold as christmas eve, who was he to force you?... The problem then is no longer the DEA, it is no longer Pablo or the hit men, it is no longer pride or selfishness; The problem is that he kept loving you while you held a gun to his head.

And there was nothing he wanted to do to change it.

"Stop!" He exclaims suddenly, causing Amado and you to jump in your place. "Everything is well here, soldier, return to your position."

Silence fills the next few seconds, quickening the hearts of everyone present there.

"Are you sure, Coronel?"

"Agent Y/L/N here accidentally hit me hard, but I don't see why I have to be explaining myself just so my orders can be carried out, soldier."

That was it, that tone. The great Coronel Carrillo and his unquestionable presence. Ask one more question and you'll have your bags already packed outside your room. No one was against him, no one except, maybe... you.

"Yes, Coronel. Immediately." One of the uniformed men downstairs answers.

Each step that seems to sound further and further away becomes a soothing rhythm for your heart. However, your head continues to throb and cold sweat trickles down your temples little by little.

What now? You want to ask, what are we going to do?... What are you going to do?

But it is neither Horacio nor you who decide to speak first, but Amado. The only idiot without any weapon is the one who decides to take the lead in the game, taking it in directions that you wish would never have been an option.

"Ey, ya estuvo, ¿no?" The dark-haired man's voice joins in a whisper to his hands lowering to a more comfortable position. "You know what's going on here, right? It's over now."

"Amado..." The desperation in your voice goes unnoticed by Horacio, but your call makes the pilot's muscles tense. Still, his gaze remains directed at the other man.

"Si la agarran, la matan, cabrón." Amado snaps, frowning. His hand reaches out the window, pointing at the little of the Coronel's men he could see in the darkness. "Or what? Do you think that if one of my people gets her name out, they'll be very happy? They won't even let her get to jail, le van a meter un tiro un pendejo día y ya.”

Carrillo clenches his jaw, refusing to respond to Amado's threat, refusing to agree with him as much as this mattered to him. But the pilot had had enough, and if the feds or anyone else even thought to show up, everything would go to hell. He didn't have time to play this fucking game.

"This is over now." He repeats, looking to hit the target. "Tell them to release my men and you have me..." The Coronel's gaze travels from your position to Amado's, slowly, almost listening to the running of the blood through the arteries. The pilot gulps. "I'm going to give them everything they want... Names, locations, todo el pinche paquete, pues..."

“No.”

“¿Qué?”

“No.” Carrillo states again. His eyes are fire and his hand is so tense that you fear the movements of the digit on the trigger.

Horacio then bends his knees and stretches to take the handcuffs that were still resting a few centimeters from your feet. The sound of metal clashes between the pieces of the artifact echo in your ears, a chill becoming present with each one of them.

“I don’t give a damn about the names and the fucking rats that work with you, i’m sure they’re going to be very happy about the trash taking itself out of the competence…” He looks at you for a brief moment before putting his own gun to his belt again and getting closer to Amado, only the right amount of steps to take his hands and getting the handcuffs around his wrists. “But you’re not going to a fucking interrogatory, you’re not going with the americans. I know your type: you will say anything to get yourself out, information of false importance that would make us look in the other way.”

“I know I’m not getting out.” Amado corrects, closing his eyes for a second and then looking at the Coronel.

And that hits you. The calmness in Amado's voice makes you bite your lower lip only to not release a sharp cry when the meaning of his words clings onto your chest. But you can help the anxiety that runs through your entire system, weakening you; your brain stuck with the only thought the kind eyes of Amado can cause you: I’m going to lose you. I’m going to lose you.

I can’t lose you.

The metallic pieces emit a soft "click" when they finish adjusting to the pilot's skin. The shock of that very fact draws your attention to your own hand and the trigger under your finger. And the world froze: Were you going to pull it? When? Now?... Were you going to kill Horacio?

And then, he found you, just like he did years ago, just like he did every time you needed. He stood there, ready to catch you, now and again. Amado’s eyes were looking in your direction, full and dark lashes on a tired gaze, bringing you back to him, only to him and his small glimpse of a smile on his face. This is it, you feel in your chest, this connection. This love that consumes every part of me when I’m with you. The moon makes a beautiful reflection on his eyes, parting in a thousand stars that dance on the blackness of his pupils. He wants to talk to you, to kiss you, but his eyes are telling everything, you can hear his voice running through your veins: Eres el regalito más hermoso que Dios me pudo haber enviado.

You remember, everything. The way you both fell in love with each other before even touching, the way he made you feel like home every time you were with him. And he learned to love you in so many different ways: by your intelligence, always supporting you, marveling himself by how smart you were; by your personality, always so happy, so lovely, so, so much you; by your body, loving every morning that you came downstairs with a beautiful summer dress, or maybe just his t-shirt and panties, or your work clothes, he was just so glad you were the first thing he saw when he wakes up.

And you can’t deny how much love you have for him. Because, spending entire nights watching movies, making love, sleeping so close you lose consciousness of where your body ended and his started, laughing. Days riding horses on some of your dates, when he took you to watch the sunrise en la sierra, kneeling before you, nervous as you had never seen him, but with a smile so bright that could overshadow the sun itself: “I know we can’t get married, not now, I know that we can’t wear rings as a couple should, but now, I’m just asking you that you let me wear this necklace on me…” He showed it to you, a beautiful golden necklace with a cross with two little rings crossed over its center. Your eyes were watery. “To let me have it next to my heart because I’m tired of not having something on me to prove that your with me all the time. I’m asking you to marry me, without papers, without anything, just us and God be witness, to let me have you as my wife for the rest of my life…”

‘Yes’ wasn’t enough, it will never be. And when he told you you didn’t need to wear a necklace if you didn’t want to, you knew you could cry, telling him: “But I do want one…”.

You were wearing it right now, under your shirt, cold against your skin, and burning still. And you love it so much, you loved him so much… So much that you would think it hurts, but it doesn’t. That’s the thing with the right one, isn’t it?, he gives you so much calm, so much safety, he loves you and lets you love him, making a daily lunch before going to work, the greatest gift of all.

And you can’t lose it.

But when you look at him again, feeling the salty tears burning on your lips, he asks you for it: Déjame hacer esto. Let me keep you safe.

“Good. Then I don’t have to worry you don’t know where are you going.” Horacio spills, looking directly to Amado’s face.

You came too late into my life, and you are leaving me too soon, you wanted to plead.

Amado wants to reassure you, smile at you and let you know that he knows. “Horacio Carrillo is going to kill me, I know, and he’s going to enjoy every second of it, but I promise I would hold on to your memory ‘till my last breath, so this love will be the last thing I can feel.”

“Let’s get you out of here, shall we?” The coronel murmurs, stepping back. “Your stupidity will get you on the river later.”

And that’s it for you.

You frown, Amado opens his mouth, but your mind was made up. The gun spins on your hand and with a movement so sudden and dry, the thud awakens your senses to the moment the body of Coronel Carrillo drops to the floor. Now, that was a little bit louder.

“What the hell are you doing?” Amado snaps, raising his brows at you.

“I could ask you the same damn thing.” You purse your lips, looking at the floor. “He will be fine, it was just a hit.”

Amado starts shaking his head, frowning with a growing concern. His hands try to reach you but the handcuffs force him to reconsider that choice.

“You need to let me do this, or you will loose all of this” He whispers, desperation filling his voice.

“I can’t let you go with Horacio.” You shake your head, slow. “I can’t.”

“This is the only way…” He hurries.

“No.” You frown.

Your eyes wander to the windows, then to the house you’re in: watching the memories in the pictures on the walls, the soft couches, the furniture full of ornaments, the easiness of breathing there…

“Amor…”

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Amado looks at you, tilting his head. “Living together, I mean. We can try to stand each other for some years.”

The pilot starts shaking his head, slow. Like thinking he didn’t listen right.

“You love your job.” He whispers, looking at you, trying to understand what you’re thinking.

“But I love my family even more.”

...

“Get out the way!, The Coronel is hurt, please take him to the hospital!” Your screams gets everyone moving.

“Where do you want us to take a este cabrón?” A soldier asks, pointing with his head at Amado, handcuffed in front of you.

“I’ll take him. I need all of you clearing this site and releasing every worker.”

“But...”

“Orders of the Coronel.” You rush. “C’mon soldier.”

“Yes, agent. Do you need someone that help you with him?”

“No. I can do it. We need the maximum discretion.” He nods, still quite unsure of your decision.

You and Amado get into the car you arrived in with Horacio. He can’t help a smile crossing his face once you’re in. Running away with your lover... That’s something you still didn’t tought you were going to do sometime.

And hell, doesn’t it feels right?

...

The Coronel didn’t take that long to wake up. A horrific headache and a loose prisioner are the only things he registers before the soldiers already asking questions.

He sits up, taking his face between his hands and asking for some space. Everything feels like moving and the colors are still blurry in front of his eyes. Only a sentence is what makes him go back to reality:

“Agent Y/L/N took Amado Carrillo with her, do you want us to send some more protection for the site and for her?”

“What?”

“Yes. Agent Y/L/N took Amado Carrillo...”

“Did she?”

“Yes, Coronel.” The soldier freezes under Horacio’s gaze. “Weren’t that your orders, Coronel?”

You were probably still around, he couldn't have lasted that long unconscious. If he sents someone to find you immediately... They can still get you and bring you back, as a traitor. They can still stop you and...

“Yes. That were my orders.” He clenches his jaw and stands up. “And free the workers. We’re done here.”

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