#amado x reader

[cositapreciosa]

Can I please request an Amado x reader fic where he slowly starts to fall in love with her? and, if it's possible, can she be a non-fluent Spanish speaker? Somewhat like Mimi. Thank you so much!

By proxy

Amado Carillo Fuentes x female!reader, (mention of you wearing heels/skirt/painted nails/lipstick, no warnings, the usual for the show) 1545 words

a/n : hopefully this is what you had in mind ! let me know how you like it

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

When he arrived, you were already seated in the chair next to his assigned one. Sunglasses perched on your nose, colored lips matching your nails, and satellite phone opened to your ear, ushering things in the receiver he couldn’t understand. Amado wouldn’t usually pay attention to all those details, but the space between the seats is narrow and you don’t seem to realize he needs you to get up so that he can finally sit down.

The heat is unbearable today. Of course he knew Belize was going to be hot, but the humidity mixed with little wind is making sweat run down his back. A temperature you don’t seem to mind, deeply invested in whatever conversation you are having, with your freshly pressed shirt, not a bead of sweat on your forehead. He has to cough to get your attention, and the look you give him makes him feel like he is intruding, your palm cupping the receiver so as to not disturb whoever is on the other side.

‘’ Puedo ayudarle? ‘’

That is when he notices your accent, the way the r comes out round and unrolled. You speak English, he thinks, but he can’t figure out more. He’s never really been one to notice the subtleties between accents.

‘’ That’s my seat, ‘’ he begins in English, ‘’ Do you mind if..? ‘’

‘’ Oh. ‘’

You are quickly on your feet, pressing the back of your knees to the chair to make more space for him to pass through. He can smell your perfume, feel the softness of your silk shirt as his hand brushes your elbow as he moves forward. You sit back down at the same time as him, one of your legs moving on top of the other. Before he can even say thank you, you are back on the phone, throwing phrases and fancy words he can’t understand. Is English is good, but it clearly wasn’t fluent enough for whatever business conversation you were having. You close the antenna with a snap.

‘’ I’m sorry about that, not very lady-like of me. ‘’

There is no point for you to try talking to him in Spanish anymore, and as much as he can’t shake away his own accent, he knows his English is probably better than your Spanish. You don’t really mean it, half an apology, half small-talk, too focused on what is happening up front, the first plane being manoeuvered on the tarmac. He offers you a polite smile nonetheless.

‘’ It’s all good. ‘’

The plane isn’t even stopped behind the podium that the auction starts, loud voice coming from the speaker, bragging about the size of the crew cabin, the space in between the seats. Nothing he needs to know, nothing that would make a difference in the type of business he plans on making with those buys. Rip it all out, he would say, start loading it up. It goes pretty fast after that, when the auctioneer finally stops talking about the whys and the hows and starts selling the plane.

He can feel you watching, chin turning his way every time he buys a plane. Probably because, compared to him, you haven’t bought much so far, no one did really.

‘’ May I ask you what all those planes are for? ‘’

You are bold, he can give you that, biting your questions, answers rolling off your tongue just as quickly. He doesn’t even realize when he started smiling, cheeks touching the underside of his sunglasses.

‘’ I could ask you the same question. ‘’

Your bite the inside of your cheek, as if you are thinking it through, if you should actually give him an answer or just another question in response.

‘’ Fair enough. Maybe our bosses’ business isn’t for us commoners to talk about. ‘’

‘’ Oh, no, you’re mistaken. I’m the boss. ‘’

That catches your eyes, knees turning to his side, body following shortly as your own sunglasses slide down your nose with the movement. He knew it would, maybe that is why he said it. There is something fun about you, carefree, that feels like it could turn this chore into something enjoyable for once. He never liked making small talk, but he does appreciate this back-and-forth that is happening. Amado watches as your elbow drapes over the back of your chair before you speak.

‘’ What’s your name again? ‘’

You do be asking many questions, he realizes, but he gives you his name nonetheless, finding himself to enjoy it when you give yours back.

‘’ Then, Amado, ‘’ You continue, ‘’ Why do the dirty work? It’s hot as hell on this tarmac. No budget for shades, the paddles are plastic, no wine bar, what’s in it for you? ‘’

‘’ Good company, clearly. You seem to be doing those a lot. ‘’

He loves the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You barely acknowledge his statement, raising your own paddle for a small luxury plane as your attention turns back to the front. A few second passes, before the gavel smashes the podium. As the applause dies down, the auctioneer talks into his microphone, voice booming and with more spectacle than he usually enjoys.

‘’ Told my boss I could speak Spanish, but I’m more at a 4-year-old level than anything else. You mind translating that for me? ‘’

He can tell you are flirting, trying to keep the conversation going. Your eyes are playful, meeting his and twisting his insides, sparkling warmth to his chest. This feels different, and he wonders if he has gotten too old for this. Still, he plays into it.

‘’ He said the plane’s all yours, mija, but that you have to pilot it back to the US if you want to keep it. ‘’

Your laugh makes the people in front of you turn, you don’t mind them though, continuing to look at the vendors as they parade the planes around.

‘’ I would crash the damn thing. You don’t happen to know a good pilot, do you? ‘’

He leans his head to your side, close enough to smell your perfume again, almost tasting the salt from your skin.

‘’ Hmm. I got someone in mind. ‘’

‘’ Well I hope he’s any good, I plan on coming back in one piece. ‘’

You are raising your paddle again, two, three times until the sale is yours. He is sure you get more Spanish than you let him on, or maybe you just go for looks and hope the plane fits your budget, if you have any. You haven’t talked much about why you are here either, and he can’t help but wonder who would buy almost as many planes as him. It is not as much, clearly, he is here to buy the biggest ones, all of them, but you have been weirdly focusing on the smaller ones, the cleaner ones, rivalling all the white heads on the tarmac.

‘’ Don’t worry, ‘’ He says as he adjusts himself on the chair, ‘’ I’ll land us safe and sound. ‘’

You find this funny, beaming at him, smile wide and refreshing in the heat. He can tell your eyes are curious, squinting from the sun as you look at him over your sunglasses.

‘’ How romantic. ‘’

There is no real implication behind your words, mostly mocking him, brushing off your actual surprise that he is in fact a pilot. Amado buys the last three planes, it is a quick process, raising his paddle, gavel knocking, and before he knows it you are on your feet, heels clacking on the asphalt the moment they end the auction.

He watches as you pull down your skirt, gathering your things in one hand while the other moves towards him, wide open for a handshake.

‘’ Well, Amado, the pleasure was all mine. I guess I’ll see you at the next one? ‘’

Probably not, he thinks, but he gets the sentiment, appreciates it even. He shakes your hand, your warm palm against his, a fingernail grazing the inside of his wrist.

‘’ I thought I was supposed to fly you back home? ‘’

‘’ Are you asking me out on a date? ‘’

‘’ Maybe. Are you saying yes? ‘’

You don’t answer him straight away, sizing him up and down. He can’t tell what you are looking for, but the small smile on your lips makes him think whatever he is doing is working. You take your hand back, pushing hair behind your ear.

‘’ I’m staying in San Ignacio tonight. The hotel’s bar is pretty good if you’d like to drop by for a drink. ‘’

You don’t wait for him to answer, turning on your heels and walking down the aisle, waving to a man in a suit that is quick to walk you to a black suv. He can do nothing but mirror your smile, pushing his sunglasses up his head. He wouldn’t mind doing the drive, especially if it means he could see you again.

He doesn’t have to think more about it, you had him at ‘bar’, ‘drink’, the notes of vanilla in your perfume. A cold Whiskey actually sounds like a good idea.

[narcolini]

nightmares

amado x gn!reader, 2080 words, hurt/comfort

contains canon typical gun violence 

using the day 2 whumpril prompts: Stress & “Get some rest.”

a/n: i hope this scratches the amado itch, dear anon!! (me vs taking months to write requests lmaooo) <3<3

tagging (my narco taglist): @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @purplesong1028 @ashlingiswriting @thesandbeneathmytoes @hausofmamadas @empireroyals @marissa53115 @iridescent-sol​ 

It started as a normal night for you. A car parked outside your window, a large palm over your knee once you were seated in the back of it. Amado purring words to your right, hip to hip, about his plans for the evening. Where he was taking you to eat, where you’d go afterwards, how long he intended to keep you for—if you liked. You could dance until the sun came up if you wanted to.

‘Y entonces?’ you’d asked him. ‘Will my bed miss me again tonight?’

He’d smiled, shrugged and ticked his head to the side like he was indifferent about it. ‘Sí, if you like, amor.’

You can’t say he doesn’t spoil you.

You’d ended up at a club, as promised, to dance into the sunrise and it wasn’t long until you had him moving too. Only took a few drinks, a hand to the side of his neck, an invite to put his own as low as he liked on you. He can move, when he cares to. His thigh went between yours, his skin close enough to swallow his cologne in gulps. Expensive, of course, and patted into the base of his throat, exposed by the undoing of a few top buttons.

‘Any more,’ he said, into the shell of your ear, ‘and I’ll be too indecent to stay.’

You twisted the third button between your finger and thumb, let him sway you from the anchor of his thigh. ‘Maybe that’s the plan,’ you teased.

‘You’re bored already, mi cielo?’

‘Bored, no.’ Hands down his chest, nails to the cotton, then back up and around his neck. ‘I’m distracted.’

That pleased him, sent a smirk onto his lips and lost half an inch of space between you, not that it was possible to be any closer than you already were. ‘One more drink,’ he bartered, ‘and then we’ll go home, bien?’

It was a fair deal, a fun one that snaked into your chest and blurred the senses. Filled you to the brim with lust, happiness, smoky indulgence that you’d never stop craving. You peeled apart from him and followed the feeling to the bar. Another of the same, you told the guy behind it, smiling as you said it, room spinning, pulsing. Overhead lights going in so many colours that the man looked like he was made of water, reflecting everything back at you, moving despite being stationary. He poured and you watched. Handed you the drinks and expected no payment in return, because it went on the tab, as always. He knew Amado near enough as well as you do.

When you arrived back to your spot, Amado was turned away from you, watching a man split the crowd in the opposite direction. You tapped his bicep with the drink you’d brought him.

‘Who was that?’ you asked, following the question with a sip of your own. The cocktails were long past tasting of alcohol, it was just juice and fizz and sugar by then.

‘Ah, no-one.’ He took his own and nodded a thank-you. ‘Just some guy jealous of my date.’  

‘Pfft, be quiet.’ If you weren’t both holding drinks, you’d have batted his arm for being so ridiculous, and so smug about it too. Instead, his dumb smile infected you, curling your lips though you tried to fight it. ‘You can’t flirt your way out of every secret, guapo.’

‘I can try.’ 

His arm went around your waist, forearm hot against the already warm skin between your shirt and your pants. Heat to heat. He put his lips to yours. You let him pull you into the kiss willingly, tongue chasing tongue. The edge of alcohol was there in his mouth, where it wasn’t in your glass, and you drank readily. Eagerly.

And then the gun went off; one shot to start with, so loud and unexpected that you sprung away from everything: Amado, your drink, the foot of space you’d been occupying. Your body acted before you’d even recognised it as a gunshot. Heart pounding through your chest, eyes running the course of the room.

‘Oye, pendejo,’ is all Amado said, at first. He put it under his breath, far too casual for the situation, like it was just a mild inconvenience to him. A fly in his beer. His palm found your back, at the base of your spine, fingers stretching to pull you to him again. I’m here, it said, nothing to worry about yet. ‘Let’s go, yeah? That way.’

‘Amado, what…?’

You know how you must’ve looked, wide eyed, frozen and deer-like. With the people fleeing around you and the flashing of the lights, you couldn’t even see who it was on the assault. Just heard the pop, the bang, the burst of screaming patrons that followed it.

Another rang out then, closer this time, and you know it was pointed at the ceiling now, because it crumbled overhead. Dust and glass and plastic. It littered your hair before Amado had chance to shield you from it. You aren’t ashamed to admit that a scream pierced out of you too, raw and unlike any noise you’ve made before, but still, Amado barely flinched. His arm went up, a second too late, and over your head, his body purposely put between you and the shooter.

‘That way, amor,’ he said again, steady as anything. ‘We’ll take the door out the back, okay?’

A third gunshot went into the roof, followed by his name shouted above the racket of it all. Whoever it was, he was mad, ravenous.

You had no more questions left in you, just blind, terrified obedience. You let Amado turn you, hands to your biceps, away from the chaos and guide you through the scattering crowd. Past the bar, through the store rooms you were never supposed to see, and out of the weighted fire door with little other explanation. The transition happened so fast, a blur, a stumble, that you only realised how far you’d come once the wall of cold hit you on the other side.

You were out. The club sat behind you, braying with noise. You felt like your lungs had stayed there, where you had been, on the sticky floor of the club. You couldn’t do anything but gasp, your chest didn’t fill no matter how hard you tried. Just half-breath, after half-breath.

Amado shut the door, firmly, and the riot went with it, muffled behind the thick plating of the fire-exit. ‘You okay?’ he asked, but you couldn’t answer him yet. You were still working on the breathing part. ‘My love.’ He moved so that he could stand in front of you. ‘Easy, amor. One breath and hold it, hm? You can do that.’

You tried. Sucked in as much air as you could and held it, eyes on his, counting as he did in the cold night, until he gave you the nod to exhale again. It helped. You repeated it, one breath at a time together.

He looked un-phased, slightly damp at the forehead, black hair pressed to his temples, but that was there from the dancing anyway. You could’ve been stepping out for a smoke, from the looks of him. Tucking behind the commercial sized dumpsters for the sake of privacy. It was only the shake of your hands that dispelled the possibility.

‘Who was that, Amado?’

‘I told you. Some güey, celoso de mí.’

You shoved him; it wasn’t like you, but it sprung out anyway, clumsy palms to his chest, new, hot anger behind your ears. ‘Don’t bullshit me, Amado. Someone fucking shot at us.’

And that was new. That was something your friends had told you would happen, but had never touched you before then.

Your anger rolled off him, bounced from the black shirt to the black night around you both. He couldn’t blame you for it. You could see in his face that he understood. ‘He was only trying to scare me,’ he reasoned, ‘scare you. Asshole’s too reckless for his own good.’

‘Who?’ you insist. ‘Who the fuck?’

And then the door swung open, breaking your solitude, handle hitting the bricks hard enough to spit dust into the air. 

Rafa, possessed and lurching forward, with the gun in his hand still. 

You can’t get in the way fast enough, the barrel is to Amado’s head in an instant. He inches to the trigger—

And that’s where you wake up, where reality twists into the surreal and you’re able to jump yourself free. That didn’t happen, there were shots, yes, an escape through the back, but Rafa never followed the two of you out. You never saw him, never saw the flash of metal to Amado’s head, that’s just the bullshit that’s come since. The dream that comes back every night; a memory you’ve tried to forget, with some sick twist plastered onto the end of it, just to grind salt into the wound. Just to make it all worse.

‘Amado?’ You find yourself dry-throated and unable to call any louder. He isn’t beside you, but the sheets are pulled back from where he’s been and left. The bedside lamp is on still. You force a swallow and try again, ‘Amado?’

In a moment he’s there, in the doorway of his bedroom, robe open and chest bare. He looks more worried now than he did a week ago, under the crumbling ceiling, in the face of danger. He looks at you like Rafa’s bullet had found somewhere worthwhile to land. ‘Sorry,’ he says, pulling forward without needing an explanation. ‘I was making a call.’

You dismiss the apology. It’s fine, you don’t want him to feel like he can’t leave your side, no matter how recurring the nightmare is. ‘That fucking dream again,’ you mutter, feeling the tightness lift as he sits by your legs. The mattress goes down, your chest goes out, one deep breath after the other. ‘Every night, I’m there again.’

His hand goes to your face, fingertips brushing the shortest parts of your hair behind your ear. ‘It’ll get better.’

‘Will it?’

‘Easier,’ he corrects. ‘With time.’

You resist the urge to throw yourself back onto the pillows in frustration. You shouldn’t need time, you shouldn’t be robbing him and yourself of sleep each night. ‘Nothing even happened, Amado. No-one was hurt.’ Your voice thins. ‘I never even saw him.’

Amado had. Tall enough to see over the ducked heads and fleeing bodies, but he’d kept it to himself until you were home, back at his place and away from danger. Where you’re safe, he’d told you, and why does it matter who it was? Rafa is no-one to you. To us.

‘Why sit and torture yourself any more than your dreams do?’ he asks, letting his hands settle on the bed either side of your thighs. ‘It’s normal to be afraid. Pendejo was shooting up a club.’

‘But you aren’t—’

He cuts you off, voice calm and even, ‘And who am I, then? A normal guy?’ He’s used to it, he means, he shouldn’t be, but he is. Guns and chaos. They follow him like fire and smoke.

‘I just hate,’ you try, unable to meet his gaze suddenly. ‘I hate expecting this of you. We’re supposed to be having fun, not, not this.’ You gesture to yourself, to the bed that feels more palliative care than honeymoon right now. Things aren’t how they used to be between the two of you, no matter how hard you try to fix it.  

When you look up again, he’s smiling faintly, face warm in the sunset of the bedside lamp. ‘Amor,’ he says, ‘I would never sleep again if that’s what it took.’

You scoff.

‘I’m serious.’ He shrugs. ‘I have books I’ve been meaning to read, I can stay up and keep the dreams away, if you need me to.’

‘You’re ridiculous,’ you tell him, but you’re smiling, just about. The nightmare feels worlds away when he talks like that, put quiet behind the fire-exit again.

‘Pues, that’s love, no?’ He leans forward, presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. ‘Making men ridiculous.’

‘Sí,’ you breathe, into the stubble across his chin, ‘I suppose so.’

‘Get some rest,’ he says, before offering a final taste. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up.’

It won’t make all the difference, but it’s enough to get you halfway.

[trafalgarya]

How is it like to be in a relationship with Kara members ?

With : Eida, Delta, Daemon, Code, Amado, Kashin Koji, Jigen/Isshiki.

gn!reader.

manga spoilers.

aged up Daemon.

brief mention of depression, autism, and insomnia.

SFW only!! i'll write a NSFW part if you guys want it.

i'm not currently reading the manga, so i don't know much about Eida. i'll just go with the flow and with what i know about her.

Eida

Being in a relationship with Eida is extraordinarily romantic.

She'll definitely call you pet names. "Darling", "Sweetheart", "Pretty boy/girl", or simply "My love".

Because of her ability, she's used of everyone falling in love with her. But with you ? Completely different.

She didn't even had to use her power to capture your heart. Being the charismatic and elegant person Eida is, she made an extraordinary first impression without even trying.

I think she would prefer a person just like her, calm and confident. She wouldn't mind an energetic person too, but that reminds her too much of her little brother, Daemon.

She'll act like a mother to you, always making sure you drank and ate well enough, got enough sleeping, being in good health, etc. She'll be very caring with you.

She wants her S/O to be perfect. Not superficially, but more like mentally. She wants her S/O to be the happiest person because of her. She wants to please them, to be the center of their life. But in a cute way, not like in a possessive way.

She's into traditional things. Just offer her flowers, dance with her, hug her while she's cooking, kiss her neck slowly but gently, and I can assure you she'll be at your feet. She'll melt at all that.

Her three main love languages are physical touch, words of affirmations, and acts of service. She can't help but wanting to touch you every time. It doesn't even have to be sexual. She just wants to hold your hand, feeling your hand around her waist, your lips against hers, your fingers on her hips. She's also pretty eloquent, so she'll comfort you whenever you are in a bad mood or something similar. She'll give you daily compliments, kissing all your insecurities and looking at you with a look that screams love. She also demonstrates her love by buying you things you love, taking you on amusement park, eating ice cream with you. Everything.

She. Will. Introduce. You. To. Her. Brother. That's not even an option. He sometimes inserts himself in your dates, just to be sure you aren't attempting to hurt his precious sister. Boy have his eyes locked on you. He already threatened to kill you if you dare to hurt her. But Eida reassures him, so he's becoming progressively more and more relaxed with you each time.

Overall, she loves you very much. She's a really romantic and loving person. Don't hurt her little heart who's craving love, she entrusts you very much to treat her like a princess.

Delta

MOMMY.

Listen, I adore her very much.

And, I was genuinely surprised at her reaction when she realized she loved Eida- I was romantically thinking of her as the complete opposite 😭.

Anyways-

Her love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch, as showed in the manga.

V E R Y C L I N G Y. She won't miss a single opportunity to hug you or to hold your hand.

She would be so protective of you. If you don't feel safe, wherever you are, just send her your location and she'll run towards you at the speed of light. Literally. (considering the fact that she can manipulate light, that's not an hyperbole 💀)

Very clingy in bed, always hugging you.

She's the big spoon tho, it's impossible for me to imagine this woman being the little spoon.

I don't feel like she'd use pet names for you. But if she does, it must have "my/mine" included. "My love" or "My angel" is what she'd use the most.

She's very understanding when it comes to problems or troubles. Depression ? If she can do something, she won't hesitate once. Autism ? Although she's not the best when it comes to emotions, she'll try her best to help you. Difficulty to sleep ? She won't sleep until you're asleep first. She'll make you feel loved, protected and safe, no matter the situation.

Definitely showering you in kisses as she's wrapping her arms around your waist, bringing you on her lap, and kissing all of your insecurities.

Not the biggest fan of PDA, but she won't hesitate to hold your hand or do a quick peck on your cheek, often followed by Code teasing Delta for being such a "dovey-lovey".

She'll always have an eye on you. Whether you're sleeping or just sitting at her side doing nothing, she'll stare at you every single moments of your life.

Overall, Delta is very supportive of you, encouraging you if you want do to something, and she's too much in love with you to even consider being close with someone else.

Daemon (aged up)

Being in a relationship with Daemon is... very energetic...

Bro has too much energy.

At this point, you're acting more like a parent than a lover towards him.

Introduced you to her sister two minutes after knowing you. No, i'm not lying.

He's growing attached too fast, so Eida isn't surprised when came the moment to meet another one of his little brother's potentiel love interest.

But, this time, she knew it was different. Daemon loved you very much, it wasn't like the previous times. The blush on his face and the big smile he's displaying when you're near, or just the way he talks about you, made Eida genuinely happy. Her brother was finally getting serious in a relationship. Thus, she'd be more relaxed and friendly with you.

Daemon would certainly share his meals with you. I think his favourite food would be ice cream, so you'll always buy an ice-cream for both.

Whenever he feels bored or tired, he's immediately walking towards you with that childish tone and that amusing walk of his.

"Y/NNNNNN... 'am sleepy..."

Rubbing his eyes, he's just too cute for you to refuse. He always ends up with his head laying on your lap or just him sitting on it, his arms around your waist/neck, and a cute sleepy face. He's snoring as well, adding more to his cuteness.

If you both are walking outside, except him to stay on your shoulders, playing with your hair with a bign, childish smile on his face.

Protecting you won't be a problem. His power can literally reflect any attack as long as it's intended or vizualised. All he has to do is touching you with his palm (he would use that as an excuse to hold your hand btw), and reflecting the attack as he's hiding your eyes. But he's also physically strong, so he would just jump on the person and would kick the shit out of him until the boy's lying unconscious, and he'll walk towards you again, like a flower, as if he didn't just left a grown ass man unconscious and lying in a bathe of his own blood.

I'm sure you've deduced it by now : He's definitely into PDA. Always on your shoulders, holding your head, or kissing you.

Definitely using too much pet names for you. "Baby" and "Darling" are his favourites.

Clinging to you when sleeping. Definitely the little spoon.

Eida trusts you very much. Whenever she can't take care of Daemon, she won't be as worried as she usually would be. Because you're here now.

I don't think Daemon would really have a type. Someone who accept him for who he is is enough.

Overall, Daemon loves you too. He act more like your child than your boyfriend but yeah-.

Code

A relationship with Code is pretty chill.

Sorry, this part will be short, i don't have too many ideas for him.

Definitely refers to you as "Darling".

When you're outside, he always have an arm around your shoulders, not giving a fuck about what people think of you or your relationship.

Proud to have you in his life and won't even hide it.

Definitely brought up about you to Delta, and teased her, saying he's loved and she isn't.

He's the only man in your life, even if you don't want it.

Like, do you remember about how Code wanted to kill Daemon just to be the only man to Eida ? Basically the same with everyone that he sees as a potential love rival to him.

He'll spend hours ranting about the way he admires Jigen, but also will vent about how much he hates Kawaki and that he should've took his place as Isshiki's vessel.

Wants to stay with you everytime.

His favourite type of kiss is the French Kiss. Long, passionate, sensual, intimate... All that.

Not the biggest fan of PDA, but not completely opposed to it.

Overall, a relationship with Code is pretty chill. He loves you and don't hide it. He's proud of you. "That's my S/O", he'd say.

Amado

A relationship with Amado is the concept of maturity itself.

You two are probably taking breakfast together, and you love coffee as much as he does.

You're smoking together too. I can see Amado smoking on the balcony of his house, with his S/O. If you're not smoking, however, he's fine with just having you by his side. And if you don't like the smell of cigarette, that's fine with him too. He'll smoke whenever he's away from you.

You two will talk about everything while he's working on Kara's bodies. If you want to, he'll explain every single step he's doing on his computer.

You're probably in good terms with Jigen, as he seems to consider Amado as a friend.

He won't be as affectionate as Delta is, but he'll make sure to remind you that he loves you on a daily basis. Not necessarily compliments, maybe just making you breakfast or helping you with whatever problem you've encountered.

Amado is a great listener. Just tell him what's on your mind, and he'll make it his priority. He wants you to know that he's here for you.

I can see Amado having an arm around your waist as you're walking outside.

He'll let you rest your head against his chest as you two are sleeping. Probably smells like cigarette, coffee or just the man smell. You know, the virility smell. Something like this.

You two definitely have kids. I can see Amado as a great dad, always proud of their kids, patting their head as they return of school with a good grade.

If you're feeling sick, Amado's got it. He'll bring you glasses of water in bed as he's putting a little watered towel on your forehead, slowly rubbing your back.

He'd definitely want someone like him, calm and patient. Smart, too. He doesn't care about your body, he loves who for who you are on the inside, not on the outside.

Overall, Amado is such a good husband. Always taking care of you and being a good husband. He loves you very much and would show it.

Kashin Koji

A relationship with Kashin Koji is... well... complicated ?

Like, he was always shown with a neutral and reserved face, also frowning. He never really showed any type of emotion through the entire show, except when he was about to die to Isshiki.

He loves you, ofc, and you know it. He just don't really know how to show it.

That'll be with little attentions, like keeping an eye on you with his toads, and he'll intervene if the situation turns out bad. He isn't bringing it up later though.

I do believe Kashin Koji is flustered whenever he have to hug you or whatever.

If you need calm/some peace of mind from time to time, he'll grab your hand and enter in one of his toad with you, either just enjoying the view or sending both of you to Mount Myōboku.

That man is smart, so when you are sad or stressed, he immediately notices it. He'd leave you your favourite food or your favourite book if he's nowhere near the house.

...

I don't have any ideas... So...

Overall, Kashin Koji loves you, but can't really express it directly. Instead, it'll be with little actions.

Jigen/Isshiki Ōtsutsuki

They're the same person, so just pick the one you want. I'll speak in both of their names for you to switch.

Anyways, a relationship with Jigen/Isshiki is quite reserved and discreet.

Jigen/Isshiki himself is a discreet and reserved person, so no doubt that he'd prefer someone like him.

He'll let you sit on his lap if you want to, while he's reading a book or while he's resting.

Not into PDA. Sorry man.

If you have to carry something big, just ask Jigen/Isshiki. He'll either carry it himself or reduce it with Sukunahikona.

Only smiling frankly around you. And that's rare.

He'll let Amado take care of you if he can't. He trusts him like a friend, so yeah. Oh and, you're in good terms with Amado btw.

You broke something precious ? Don't worry, Jigen/Isshiki already made tons of copies of this object and sent them in his dimension where time doesn't flow. He'll just bring it to you and pat your head. He'd say something like "There, there. You don't have to worry anymore."

I know he might not seem like it, but he's someone affectionate when he wants to. He'll bring you in a soft, warm hug if you're feeling down, just rubbing your back and letting you vent. He'd listen to all of it.

If it's because a Kara member, be sure you'll never see them anymore. If that's because someone else, you won't see them again as well. It it's something else, just leave it to him. He'll solve the problem in little to no time.

Would give you the world if you wanted to. He just wants to see his S/O happy.

The only pet name he'll use is "Dear". But in front of the others, he'll simply call you by your name in a soft tone.

He'll protect you from every danger. It's not like it's much of a deal for him, after all. He effortlessly beated Naruto and Sasuke together. If it wasn't for the Baryon Mode, they'd be dead by now.

Code won't be a big deal too. Even though he's stronger than Jigen/Isshiki, he respects him too much to even consider hurting you.

Little naps in the middle of the day, a plaid between the two of you, his arm around your waist. You couldn't feel safer than in Jigen/Isshiki Ōtsutsuki's presence. You know how strong he is and how much he'd do for you.

Overall, a relationship with Jigen/Isshiki is discreet and calm but loving and romantic.

[mrs-stardustt]

first date ft. narcos mx characters

a/n: hiiii, permission to be delusional on the main???? alright so here we goooo

if you like to add more characters don't be afraid to ask, I just follow however character intrudes my mind<3 so reach out if you want any specific request

INCLUDES: Benjamín Arellano Félix, Ramón Arellano Félix, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo, Amado Carrillo Fuentes

gif credit: @southotheborder​

Benjamín:

my sweet man<3

first date has to be as soft as he is, so I'm thinking a nice park walk with nieves if it's hot outside or just something wholesome

so going on a walk and getting to know each other seems fitting

like imagine the stuttering mess he would be, how gentleman he is OMG

everything will be perfect, he will make sure of it

he most likely blush if you compliment him

we know that’s his time to really put into the work to impress you, to show you he is fucking fr

my Min doesn't fool around, so if you're on a date, he's interested on going serious

but everything is so nice and sweet, he makes you feel comfortable and loved<3

so if he's feeling bold, a cheek kiss would be the peak of the day

but if YOU'RE feeling bold???? kiss him, I swear to you, even a peck barely on the lips and he is a goner

without adding more, it's clearly that with Min a date can't go wrong, he won't do anything bad in my eyes, argue with the wall lol

Ramón:

let's bffr, alright??? it would probably be in a club lol

and of courseeee it will be Roxane

everything is just so chill and funnn

if anything Món is funNY

just you two being HOT PEOPLE, dancing in the middle of the dancefloor, feeling each other iykyk

he would a 100% flirt shamelessly all. the. time.

and add a few drinks to the equation???? girrrrrrrrl

he’s so hot, i can’t help myself

imagineeee: you two dancing, the whole world disappearing, your back to his chest, feeling the music AHHHHH  

so expect to have a very fun night, to end the night a little tipsy and barely feeling your legs of how much you dance

and of fucking course, if you let him, he will kiss you

but don’t worry, my man is a tease  

he might kiss you, but that’s it

he keep you waiting up until your second date

and don’t lie to yourself, it will be to a second date babes

Miguel Ángel:

big ass fancy restaurant, that’s it

if something we all can agree is that Miguel likes to flex

he will take you to the most expensive place to have dinner (yep dinner, somewhat having a first date with him has to be at night, okay????)

and let’s indulge a little, he will probably send you a fancy dress, fancy shoes and everything and anything his princesa might need

he is very interested in you so he’ll ask questions about you, you likes/dislikes, a bit of talking about your past and shit

i don’t believe he will share too much about him

and for obvious reasons

he will taste the waters, to kinda know if he can trust you, not really going for it that soon

but don’t worry because either waaaaay

he is a romantic 

and old school romantic

he’ll touch your hand a bit, give you a little smile while you talk 

EYE CONTACT OMGGGGG

he don’t flirt too openly but he OBVIOUSLY calls you nicknames

“que hermosa te ves, mija”

it could end on two ways: you kiss and that’s it but if we are bold, enjoy the ride to his home girly AYYYY NO

Amado:

Amado is a chill man

so whatever you like, he likes

you want to have dinner? let’s go to your favourite. wanna go for a walk? sure, chose the place. club date? pick your dress he’s on the way

he will liveeee to make you happy

and that is ALL you need to know to assure that your first date will go smoothly as possible

but for this i choose a bar

why? idk makes sense somehow lol

the talking will be immaculate, with my man, conversation neverrrr ends

he tell you a bit about himself, crack a joke here and there just to make you laugh, he’ll ask questions about you

he WILL flirt

and if you flirt back????

MY GIRRRRL you have him eating from. your. hand.

no for nothing Acosta call him tontín so deal with a little of clumsiness

and because he loves you he let you make fun of him, just know he’ll have that energy backkkk

A LOT OF TENSIONNNN

not only sexual lol but for anythinggg

the chemistry is PLAUSIBLE

so at the end we can know a kiss is happening, that is not up to discussion

buuuut, just a maybe (and a very firm maybe) you can go home together AHHHHHHHH

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n @arcticversed (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

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 : Walt did everything he could to eliminate drug traffickers without realizing that ultimately, his actions were causing him to lose you forever.

AN: There're angst everywhere Lol. Get ready to be hurt

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��𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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[6]ᅳ 𝐋𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐥 ✟

The loud 'Bang' jolted you back to reality, back to the awareness of what you were and what this man was. He might be charming, he might be funny, he might be romantic, but Amado Carrillo Fuentes is a drug lord. He is your target, America's target, Mexico's target, and and the target of other drug trafficking gangs whose aim is to see him dead.

They know Amado is hiding here too. And they didn't want him to come back to Mexico.

Armed groups in tourist outfits reveal themselves amidst the growing chaos. They all aim straight for Amado, but they don't care about other lives.  Innocent people unintentionally caught in the crossfire are ruthlessly eliminated,  bodies scattered on the streets like fallen leaves.

The music is drowned out by the gunfire, laughter turns into screams, and in the blink of an eye, tranquility turns into hell on earth.

You're stiff; you should do something to stop it. You think you could if you had a gun with you, but the bad thing is you didn't bring one because you foolishly thought a regular musician shouldn't have a gun to be suspected by Amado, and you were confident you could handle everything well without weapons.

And you're wrong. It's your fault.

Amado yanked you up, dragging you along as he turned back to shoot at the killers chasing him from a distance. For a split second, you imagine pushing him away and escaping alone. Because these people only cared about getting Amado's life, not yours. His death might be a good thing; at least one of the drug lords would be gone. The crazy mission, and everything could finally end.

You should let him die. It would be much easier if Amado chose the same. But this man is now trying to protect you, even though he's been in danger. Yet, those big hands refuse to let go of yours, not even for a second.

You grit your teeth, eyes staring intensely at his hand holding yours firmly. No matter how much you want to reject, somehow you are a part of this fate. Throughout the time that has passed, you have lost and failed to save everyone. let many people die in front of you without being able to do anything. And you can't bear to feel guilty from failure any more, at least not for this time.

In this moment of imminent death,The CIA Agent finally makes the decision that you can't let Amado die.

All of this is for the mission. That's what you try to insist to yourself. In the moment when one of the assassins aims at Amado without him noticing, in the moment when you decide to push him out of the bullet's range, in the moment when you get shot by that bullet yourself.

The chaos still swirls around you, things flashing before your eyes too fast to make out what they are. Everything seems like mere illusions to you. There's nothing clear except the searing pain akin to flames burning inside your abdomen. You slide down onto the pavement, hands clutching your blood-soaked abdomen tightly, the sound of yelling ringing in your ears. It's Amado's voice, but you can't make out what he's saying. All you can do is raise your head to look at him, seeing the shock reflected in those wide-open eyes and your blood smeared on his face.

What went wrong? Your final suspicion is devoid of any clear answers.

Was it an unexpected reaction to the situation? Or the foolish intention to take the bullet instead of the man who deserved to die?

There's nothing funny about it at all. Yet, you let out a light chuckle, mocking yourself, realizing that this might be the end for you—shot foolishly on the roadside, another failure. But at least, there will be no more loss to bear except for your own life.

Perhaps it's a fitting end for someone like you.

You took another glance at Amado, the smile still lingering on your face until unconsciousness envelops every part of your body and fades away in the blink of an eye.

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

Walt never knew when to stop. That was always the problem.

Like a relentless machine, he never took a break, working tirelessly until either the energy ran out or the machinery broke into pieces. Even though he knew it was slowly destroying himself, he chose to keep going until he got what he wanted, or died trying, or worse — had to get his hands dirty and kill someone to get what he wanted.

The hands of the DEA agent were covered in bruises and blood, the throbbing pain clinging to every bone forcing him to slightly adjust his grip.He wiped off someone else's blood onto a dirty handkerchief lying on the floor before looked up at the young man tied tightly to the chair.His face and bare body bore only the traces of severe abuse inflicted by his own hands. 

"Alex Aragón," Walt slowly uttered the name, studying the almost unconscious response from the boy, who seemed barely aware of his surroundings. 

He's still so young, looked like he had just emerged from adolescence not long ago. the pampered, harmless rich kid unless you knew that this guy wwasone of the high-ranking members of the Arellano drug cartel,who just apprehended three days ago.

"If you want to see your parents again, you better tell me right now where Ramón Arellano Félix, your buddy, is and what he's planning," Walt held the cigarette in his mouth before turning his gaze to Diego and the two Mexican cops standing solemnly in the same room. "My Mexican friends here aren't as friendly as I am, and I won't hesitate to hand you over to them if you don't talk to me."

"But...but I'm American!" the young man rushed to say. "I was born in America, I have American citizenship. You can't do this to an American! If anyone finds out, you'll be in serious trouble!"

"So what? Do you think America cares about a bunch of drug dealers like you?"

He lied. When it came to America's image in the eyes of the world, those at the top of politics did care.

But America was also adept at covering up its own dirty scandals.

And if America was good at covering up scandals, Mexico was even better at making them. So, Walt decided to leave the task of tormenting duties to the Mexican police, as he had said earlier.

Walt walked out of the interrogation room to smoke a cigarette, listening to the echoing screams echo with an expression of indifference, devoid of emotions. It was just another ordinary day in his line of work. There is nothing to feel bad about when dealing with someone who deserves to die.

Not long after, Walt remembered that he had only taken a few puffs of smoke when the heavy metal door of the interrogation room was suddenly opened. He saw Diego stepping out with a strangely alert demeanor.

Walt furrowed his brows, quickly flicking away the cigarette that wasn't finished. He didn't feel too good hearing what Diego said, "That bastard finally talked, but it wasn't about Ramón."

"And what did he say?"

Diego hesitated, feeling conflicted. He wasn't sure if he should directly discuss this with Walt. But in the end, he decided to speak up.

"He mentioned an assassination against Amado Carrillo Fuentes."

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

The two junior officers in Policía Ciudad de México(The Mexico City Police) were taken aback when an American DEA agent suddenly burst into the room with a look as if he wanted to physically harm someone. Julio, who was seated at his regular desk, looked up for a moment. His expression didn't change much upon seeing Walt. The boss exhaled deeply before waving his hand to dismiss the other officers, leaving just the two of them in the room.

"Ramón Arellano sent assassins to kill Amado on Aruba Island. We need to hurry to help Y/N, she's in danger," the DEA agent exclaimed.

"I already know about it," Julio responded with an unchanged expression. "Netherlands embassy just reported about a Mexican drug cartel incident in the tourist area of the island. The bodies were sent back to Mexico this morning."

Walt sighed lightly, both surprised and irritated by the calmness of his superior. "So, what now? You know about this, yet you're not going to do anything?"

"Calm down. We've checked everything. We didn't find any bodies matching Amado's or Y/N's description. It's highly possible they're still alive."

"Then we need to hurry and help her. We don't know if there are still Arellano's men left on the island. This mission is too risky for Y/N. We need to abort."

"You'll have to talk to America yourself then, Agent Breslin." Julio's tone grew more serious. "Y/N is a CIA agent. Mexico has no part in this."

Walt's face turned pale. It was a feeling when hit by what's called 'Reality'. A reality that Walt hadn't fully grasped until now.

Mexico wouldn't extend a helping hand in this matter, and neither would America. The covert mission regarding Amado is an elite secret known only to a few. Even the Netherlands isn't aware of the CIA's unauthorized incursion into their country. If this mission were to be exposed, it would severely damage trust and international relations.

So, whatever happens to Y/N during this mission should not be linked back to America. They won't hesitate to abandon her immediately. This means she could end up in a state of disappearance without an identity or even a grave to bury.

Does You know about this before deciding to go there? Walt started to doubt. He looked back at Julio's face, seeing him nod slowly, as if already knowing what he was thinking.

"It's her profession. She knows well about the risks, and she's chosen it herself."

A dry chuckle escaped Walt's throat, sounding sarcastic and bitter at the same time. The American officer sank heavily into the chair, hands raised to hold his head, exhaling softly. There was no trace of anger or resentment, not a single word spoken.

Julio laid the documents in his hands on the table. He looked straight at the man opposite.

"Remember the conversation in Cuba? When you were furious because you were worried about her, I told you to trust in her," Julio said with a smile. "I know you're tired of hearing this, but this time I want you to continue to trust her, as long as there's hope. Anything is possible."

"That sounds more like self-consolation than the truth."

"This world is cruel. Sometimes, we get by just by consoling ourselves."

Walt closed his eyes briefly. There were only a few times he showed vulnerability to others beyond his usual demeanor of anger and unfriendliness. "If I knew it would turn out like this, I should say something to her."

He had been thinking about his feelings for you—something more than just a coworker. Every time they locked eyes, shared cigarettes, talked about trivial matters, and laughed together over nonsense, it all seemed clear. He has known it. But he chose to overlook it. Because his job was filled with blood and death every day. There's no space for romance and for a heart that has to bear the pain of sorrow and a painful past.

But the decision to remain indifferent to the feelings in his heart only makes him feel even more sorrowful today.

If on that day he had hugged you tight, if he had asked you not to go to Aruba, if he had decided to tell you how he truly felt, maybe the story could have ended differently. And sometimes, you might have felt the same too.

It's pointless to dwell on things that can never happen again.

The silence persisted until Walt stood up again. He pursed his lips, looking as if he wanted to quickly leave the room. However, Julio stopped him first. "Where are you going, Agent Breslin?"

"I'm just going back to the interrogation room," the DEA replied calmly. But Julio saw the clear anger and darkness in his eyes. "If anything happens to Y/N, I'll make sure they're all going to pay for it."

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

[proceduralpassion]

Take You Home

Day 30 of Narcoctober- Post a fanwork you started for any previous prompt but weren’t able to finish in time.

Character(s): Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Reader

WC: 845

A/N: Lol why did I make reader so down bad in this? This was what I was gonna originally write for the Day 18 exes prompt and I wanted to circle back and post it at some point, so why not for amnesty day lol

It’s easily the worst date you’ve ever been on. Which is all the more aggravating because it was the most excited you were to be on a date in a long time. New fancy restaurant. Semi-attractive date. The first outing you’d been invited on by the opposite sex ever since you and Amado broke up. 

The atmosphere of the restaurant is so relaxing, but you can’t seem to sit back and truly enjoy yourself. Your date has been non-stop yapping about himself, not even polite enough to ask you a question even once. He only shut up long enough to drain his glass of wine, which sounded terribly obnoxious as it gobbled down his throat. The sound was so loud and irritating that you wanted to switch your own wine for tequila and get straight hammered. 

Your patience was running thin and your date doesn’t even notice how you tune out of all of the words that fall out of his mouth and start people watching. 

Your smile lifts up as you watch the romantic older couple in the corner of the restaurant who stand up to dance on the open floor as the guitarist and singer on stage begins crooning a slow love song. The thought of growing old with someone and still being interested enough in them to dance the night away was appealing in thought, but you’d tear out your own eyeballs if that special someone for you was sitting across the table.

The food arrives minutes later and the man’s smacking and constant din of his utensils against the plate has you losing your appetite before you’ve gotten a few bites in. You feel bad for your waitress who’s ripping and running all around the floor, but the next time you see her, you know you’re going to ask for a to-go box and split the establishment shortly thereafter. 

In the meantime, you finish your wine and hope that it alleviates your short nerves. It doesn’t work because the next time you look up, your date is scanning your body with a leer that has you shuddering with disgust. 

Across the restaurant, Amado has been watching you, highly amused at the sight. His shoulders shudder as he keeps in his laughter from observing just how much you’d rather be anywhere else. He’s unable to tear his eyes away, afraid that he’ll miss the chance when you finally catch him sitting in the same restaurant as you.

It wasn’t purposeful. Sure, he’d been keeping tabs on you, but he didn’t know you’d be here tonight. He’d been conducting a meeting this evening over pasta and steak, and now enjoying dessert with his entourage now that the discussion had ended. 

Your heart stalls in your chest when you finally spot him. The left side of Amado’s face lifts in a smirk which makes your stomach flip. He’s never not had a knack for throwing you off and the way he sits, leaning back in his chair with one of his legs straightened out away from him, leaves you mesmerized. 

Once your eyes connect, Amado’s standing up and walking straight towards you. The fact that you’re on a date is inconsequential to him at the present moment. Doesn’t even spare the man  a second glance as he leans down at your side. 

“Hola, querida,” Amado greets, halting conversation off your date’s end, “That dress looks beautiful on you. Red was always your color.”

Your eyes darken at the compliment and then widen when your date opens his mouth up again.

“Hey, pal! What the fuck is your problem? We’re on a date here.”

Amado spares him no glance. He takes his hand into yours, softly caressing the back of it and admires your manicure. 

“I missed you,” he says, and then plants a light kiss on your hand.

You can’t help but smile, always too weak when it comes to how smooth he was with his words. He always had a way of making the center of your heart feel all gooey without much effort.

Your date waves a hand between the two of you’s faces, almost as if he expects the mounting tension between you to wipe away at his insistence. 

It’s Amado’s turn for his eyes to darken but, this time, they’re centered on your date. He gives the man a blank stare but doesn’t acknowledge him any further before standing and pulling you up with him. There’s no resistance in your frame as he helps you out of your seat. 

“I’ve never had good timing, mi amor, but I’m hoping you’ll allow me take you home?”

You’re not paying attention to the rough hands that settle against your date, keeping him in his seat as Amado walks away with you. 

“I believe I have some making up to you,” he says.

You chuckle, “Yes, you do.”

Your hand wraps within his, fingers interlocking as he leads you out the restaurant. 

He kisses your shoulder before opening the door and guiding you out, “Some might even say some begging would be required.”

Click here if you wanna be added to the taglist! Taglist: @asirensrage @drabbles-mc @ashlingnarcos @narcosfandomdiscord

[drabbles-mc]

Out of Time

Amado Carrillo Fuentes x F!Reader

For Day 29 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: surrender

Warnings: 18+, language, angst

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: In true drabbles-mc fashion, I have no idea what happened here with this one but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. We love fics all based on vibes in this house lmao. Also, thank you @hausofmamadas for giving me a little nudge out of my comfort zone. tqm, df 🥰

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

Once it all started to unravel the way that it did, Amado decided that there was no other choice. Surrender was never going to be an option for him, not the way that it was for the godfathers. He wasn’t going to turn himself in and simply do his bid. What would it all have been for, then?

So there he was, packing his bags. All the work he’d put into his beautiful home, or rather, all the money he’d put into his beautiful home making others do the work, and now he was going to take off and leave it vacant. It was a small loss, he supposed. With the money he had he could afford to make just about anywhere home. It was a skill that was going to come in handy, too, because he didn’t know how long he was going to have to be on the run before he finally settled down somewhere quiet enough for him to live out the rest of his life in quiet, secluded luxury. That’s really all he wanted now: to be left the fuck alone.

The suitcases that were on the floor beside his bed were already filled with clothes. The zippers on them were strained, nearly to their breaking point, but they still held. There was another still on his bed, open and only half-full as he continued to pack away more clothes into it. Part of him felt like it was a bit ridiculous, packing up his clothes and some of his other easily replaceable belongings, but he still found himself doing it. Maybe it was sentimental, he wasn’t sure—there wasn’t enough time for him to sit back and try to figure it out.

He was the only thing in the entire house making noise, so it wasn’t difficult for him to hear the sound of someone else coming up the stairs that would lead to the hallway that held his bedroom. He reached for his gun even though he wasn’t quite sure who it would be. If it had been the cops, or the feds, they would’ve already caused a scene. They wouldn’t have been able to make such a quiet entrance—they wouldn’t have sent one man in alone.

He moved quickly, quietly across the floor of his room. He positioned himself so that he was hidden behind his open bedroom door. His breathing was slow, controlled as he listened to the footsteps slowly but surely get closer and closer to his room.

Through the sliver between the door and its frame, he caught the silhouette of the person as they started to step into his room. The second he was able, he stepped out from his hiding place, grabbing them and pushing them back towards the wall of his room with his gun pressed underneath their chin before he even had a moment to stop and check and see who it was.

When the wall stopped him from being able to keep pushing the person, he finally looked to see who it was. His eyes widened when he saw that it was you, the nerves that had been mounting went away, replaced instead by guilt when he saw the fear in your eyes with the mouth of his gun pressed harshly against your chin.

“A-Amado?” you stammered out, unable to even get your arms to cooperate enough to try and push him away from you.

He lowered his gun, tucking it back into his waistband as he loosened his vice grip on you. “Querida? Qué paso?” He knew that he should’ve been apologizing for nearly splitting your skull in two, but the question came out first instead.

There were still goosebumps on your skin even though the only thing still touching you was Amado’s warm palm. His fingers curled around your bicep, thumb tracing back and forth to smooth over the way that he’d gripped onto you so harshly before. You were trying to get out the words that you wanted to say, but it was proving to be more effort than you thought it was going to be.

“Estás saliendo?” you finally asked, a slight tremor to your voice.

He hesitated at that for a moment. The answer was evident—he knew that you knew. He wondered if you just wanted to hear him say it. Maybe you were looking more for the answer to the question that was coming next: Why? Although you were also smart enough to put together the broad strokes of the answers to that question as well.

Stepping back from you, granting you some more breathing room but with his hand still on your arm, he nodded once. He watched you look at the suitcases on his floor, the one sitting on top of his mattress. Your eyes traveled around the room—it was the only spot in the house where things were looking like they’d disappeared or were out of place. All that square footage and the only room with things that mattered enough to take with him was his bedroom.

“Cuándo…” your voice trailed off, not quite sure if the answer mattered once you started to ask the question. The exact time of his departure wasn’t what your real concern was. Whenever it was, it was clearly soon. Too soon.

Selfishly, the next question you wanted to ask was, “Were you just going to leave without telling me?” but you couldn’t manage it. It seemed small, childish even, to ask that when hardly two minutes before he’d had his finger on the trigger of his gun that was pressed against the bottom of your jaw.

Clearing your throat, you allowed yourself to lean back against the wall behind you for support, taking what you could get. “Adónde vas?”

He gave a slight shake of his head before shrugging. He made just enough of a motion with his arm, like an attempt at throwing his hands up in defeat without truly committing to it. “No sé.” He huffed out something that would’ve been a laugh if the air surrounding the conversation between you hadn’t felt so heavy. “Lejos de aquí.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process what he was telling you, still trying to process the scene that you were seeing in front of you. For as much of a mess as Amado’s life could be, his house had always been spotless. That was one of the perks of never having the time to be there—it never got to the point where it looked lived-in. The only person who had been around enough to even try to make a mess had been you, and you were always careful. But now his room looked like it had been pulled apart, broken down like an old car in search of decent scraps to put into a new one.

Pushing yourself off the wall, you slowly walked over towards his bed. Aside from the wrinkles at the foot of it where he’s been rotating out his suitcases, it still looked perfectly-made. The pillows were all in their correct spots, the blanket and sheet by the head of the bed still folded and set to perfection. You found a spot beside his suitcase and sat down, trying not to think about the way that he was watching you so intently.

You reached into the suitcase, fingers dragging along the fabric of one of the last shirts that he had thrown into the bag. The black cloth passed so smoothly beneath your fingertips. An impulsive part of you wanted to ball it up inside your fist, leave a set of wrinkles that he would have to contend with whenever he got to wherever it was that he was going. Leave him some nuisance to sort out that would make him think of you once he had left you behind. You thought about it, pressed the pads of your fingers harder into the fabric, but then you stopped and just smoothed over it with your palm instead.

“Esto es el fin?” you asked, “Para nosotros?”

For us might’ve been a little presumptuous on your part. But you still deserved an answer. After all, you’d caught the man getting ready to leave without offering you so much as a goodbye or a warning first. If you were here, you might as well make him to through the effort, the pain of stating the obvious. You’d earned that much at least, you’d like to think.

He frowned at the question, and you tried to figure out if he was frowning in confusion because the answer seemed obvious, or if he was frowning because he was actually sad about leaving you behind. Maybe it was something else entirely. Still, you waited patiently for his response.

He shrugged, pausing a moment, his brows knitting like he was trying to think of an answer that wasn’t the most obvious one. “Sí…” he dragged the word out for a beat longer than necessary as he reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“Amado,” you said as you shook your head, sadness plaguing your voice, “what the fuck?”

His eyes snapped back to you at that. You weren’t sure what caught him more off-guard, the sudden switch or the heaviness and sadness that accompanied a question that was usually shouted between the two of you in anger.

He walked over to the bed, positioning himself so that he was standing between your legs. He looked down at you, silently waiting for you to look up at him. “Qué quieres de mi, mija? Hm? Digame.”

“I—” you started, stopping yourself short as you shook your head. The reality of it was that you weren’t really sure what you wanted from him. A heads-up? An invitation? For him to go back in time and not wind up on a path that led to him having to make the choice to either live on the run or to surrender and die in prison? Sighing, you dropped your chin towards your chest as you admitted, “Yo no sé.”

“Hey.” He rested his hand on your shoulder. When you didn’t look up at him, he said, “Mírame.” When you finally looked up at him, he repeated his question. “Qué quieres? Quieres salir conmigo?”

You found yourself shaking your head even though you weren’t quite sure if that was your real answer. You tried not to think too hard about the way his hand warmed your shoulder, about the look in his eyes that you almost thought meant he wanted you to say yes to the question.

“No puedo…” you started, stopping and shaking your head, “I can’t just…”

He tilted his head, like he was curious, almost confused. “Por qué no?”

You leaned back, shock all over your face, “Por qué n—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head, unable to believe that he really just asked you that.

Maybe you should’ve expected it. The rest of the people in his life could pack it all up and leave just like he could, after all. You were the one thing that wasn’t like all the others. You were the only one in his world who couldn’t trade it all in with the flip of a switch. Maybe that’s what the offer was, though, an opportunity to change that.

Despite the fact that you’d thought about it, contemplated it for longer than you thought, you knew that you weren’t going to go. It was an easy choice for Amado. If you had been left with the same choices that he was, you’d probably pick the same thing. But those weren’t the choices that you had. There was so much more left for you here than there was for him, and despite every hopelessly romantic bone in your body, you knew that neither one of you was enough to sway the other. Amado was going to leave no matter what you said, and you were going to stay no matter what he offered.

Reaching, you took his hands in your own. You tried not to think about the tears gathering at the edges of your eyes as you gave him a small pull towards you, trying to coax him to come just a little closer to you before he left you for the last time. You watched him, all of him, the slight slump in his shoulders when he made the decision to give in, when he realized the answer you were going to give him.

He knelt down in front of you, putting himself just below eye-level with you. Your fingers were still threaded through his. Your lips twitched as you tried to keep your tears from spilling, keep your bottom lip from trembling. Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his.

Taking a deep breath, you said, your voice shaking more than you’d ever admit to after the fact, “Tu sabes…”

You felt the rise and fall of his shoulders and chest from the deep breath that he took. Precious seconds that he didn’t have an excess of anymore, still being spent on you, for you, with you. “No puedes salir,” he said, his voice heavier than you thought it was going to be.

He didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to leave without even saying goodbye, knowing that for one reason or another he wasn’t ever going to see you again. He’d been ready for that. Maybe the melancholy would catch up to him when he finally slowed down, maybe then he’d feel a passing twinge of regret. What he felt now though was so much more than that, heavier on his shoulders.

Leaving without telling you would’ve been all on his terms. He was in control of it. He wouldn’t have had to stick around to see the pain on your face over it, either. By then he would’ve been long gone. Also, if he had just left without telling you, he wouldn’t have been stuck in the situation he was currently in—he wouldn’t have been getting rejected by you.

Taking one of your hands out of his and resting it on the side of his face, you traced your thumb along his cheekbone, over the stubble that was growing longer, somewhere between unruly and an actual beard.

“No,” you finally said, your voice soft.

The two of you lingered that way for a moment, letting that one word hang between you, the short, simple confirmation that this was the end of the road for the two of you. It didn’t have to be, but it did. Amado couldn't resign himself to what life would look like if he chose to stay, but you could. You had to.

He took a deep breath, and for a fleeting moment you thought that he was going to have something profound to say, something that would shake the foundations of the entire situation. Or maybe he’d kiss you, something so fierce that it would blot out the heart-wrenching reality that the two of you were facing something that would sweep you off your feet one last time. But he didn’t do either of those things. Shaking his head with his forehead still pressed against yours, he let out the breath he’d taken in before getting back up onto his feet.

Neither of you said anything else as he went back to packing up the last of his things. Every item he put into the pile, you found yourself running your hand over it. The next shirt, each pair of pants, rinse and repeat.

By the time he was done, with all of his bags now stacked by the door, you were hoping to have something more to say. He was hoping you’d have something more to say too, because this part had never been the part that he was good at.

Walking from his doorway back to the bed, he sat on the mattress beside you. He let his hand wander, allowed his fingers to hook into yours. He was looking down at your joined hands rather than in your eyes. “Estas segura de esto?” he asked.

You chuckled quietly at that, the sound a little sad beneath the humor of it. It felt like you were supposed to be the one asking him that question. He was the one leaving everything behind to start over somewhere else, drop his old life in favor of a new one without knowing how it would play out. Your life was staying startlingly the same. The only thing that was going to change was that Amado wasn’t going to be in it anymore.

Finally forcing himself to look you in the eyes again, he saw the hint of a smile on your face. He mirrored your expression, knowing exactly what you were thinking. He gave your hand a light squeeze. “Ven conmigo.”

Your smile widened a bit at that, the tears in your eyes growing. “Es mi última oportunidad, yea?”

He nodded. “Yea.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. It was soft, drawn out longer than it would’ve been any other day because you both knew that it was going to be the last one. He leaned back into you, not the way that he usually did, not in a way that was aimed to escalate or rile you up. He was soaking it up, savoring the feeling in a way that he didn’t take the time to do nearly enough before.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were still closed for a few seconds longer. You studied his face while you could. When he finally opened them, all he said was, “Lo siento.”

Your automatic reaction was to tell him that it was okay, but you both knew it would’ve been a lie. Part of you wanted to make a joke about how he should get going before he missed his flight, both of you knowing that the humor lied in the impossibility of it. But nothing was making it past your lips. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his cheek, unbothered by the stubble when maybe on a different, better day you might’ve been.

With more effort than he thought it would’ve taken, Amado forced himself up onto his feet. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of your head before walking towards the door. He picked up his bags, lingering in the doorway as he turned back to you. You could spot the lingering sadness in his eyes that hadn’t been there when you’d shown up. Still, he managed to give you a smile.

“Disfruta la casa, yea?” He took another step back out into the hallway. “Para mi.”

You nodded, the sad smile on your face pairing a little too well with the tears that were beginning to trickle out onto your cheeks. You desperately wanted something more to say, but the same emotions that were clouding your mind were also choking out any chance to give him a comeback, to end things on the same note that they’d started so long ago. But you couldn’t, so you watched him turn and disappear out of the doorway, the last of your seconds with him finally spent.

[mmasalva]

SONG: La Camisa Negra — Juanes

[cregan-starks]

Hey, everyone 👉🏻👈🏻

Just wanted to let you know that I’m now cregan_starks on both ao3 and ko-fi 💞

[honestsycrets]

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.

[cosmicpearlz]

hopelessly devoted

summary: the four times you and joão spill about your relationship and the one time you guys finally hard launch it.

pairing: joão félix x actress!reader

-one-

"hello gq! my name is y/n and i'm here to answer your burning questions," you said as you wiggled your eyebrows in a teasing manor.

"what was it like filming with jenna oretega?"

"it was absolutely amazing. jenna is like my sweet little angel. for those that don't know, me and jenna play adopted siblings for this movie called all for love. you should go check it out or whatever," you shrugged your shoulders, throwing the card behind you.

"who makes you laugh the most?"

you looked down at your feet, sporting a huge smile. "my boyfriend," you picked your head up towards the camera and giggled.

"boyfriend? are you saying that you're not single?" one of the producers behind the camera said.

"yeah, ya girl is off the market."

"can you tell us more?"

"well all i can say is he's a well known athlete. we've been together for almost a year now and i'm very happy."

"will you ever go public?"

"maybe or maybe not. who knows," you throw another wink to the camera, causing everyone in the room to laugh.

-two-

with you being out the country for a new movie, you couldn't attend joão's game. you were left feeling bummed that you couldn't be there to support him in person. it didn't stop you from watching the game in your hotel room, texting him throughout it. he wouldn't be able to see all the texts until after the game but it never mattered to you. you practically jumped off the bed, watching your boyfriend score the winning goal. sending a quick text, stating how proud you were and how much you loved him. you kept the channel on, waiting for his interview.

"joão, you had a really goal. you must've been delighted with that finish."

"yeah, i think it was a good goal. uh, well played since the beginning, since the net. and then with the neto pass. it was kind of easy from that spot," joão gave the interviewer a small smile.

"and who will you be celebrating this win with?"

"celebrating with my girlfriend over facetime. she wasn't able to make it here today but i know she's been texting me updates while she was watching. i look forward to calling her and seeing what she's been saying," his smile grows more being able to talk about the love of his life.

"congratulations again and thank you for your time."

"thank you," joão shakes the interviewer's hand before walking towards the locker rooms.

it didn't take long for joão to get home. he was quick to drop his stuff off at the door and greet floki. picking up the small dog, he heads to the couch to call you.

"babyyyy! ah, i'm so so so proud of you," you screamed into the phone speakers upon answering the facetime call.

"meu amado (my beloved), thank you for watching."

"i'm always watching. you literally couldn't get me not to watch your matches. now, where's my son?" joão chuckles, flipping the camera down to floki, who rested comfortably in his lap.

"starting to thing you love him more than me."

"i could never."

"well maybe just a little bit. but to be fair, i love you both equally."

"we love you too babe."

-three-

another day, another interview. you were so glad that you got to do this one at home. you set your computer up in the kitchen and only worried about putting on a fancy top. from the waist down, you were wearing joão's basketball shorts and a pair of his socks. his closet was pretty much your closet too.

"in a recent interview with gq, you mentioned that you had a boyfriend," you nodded with a smile. "what song reminds you of the relationship you guys have?"

"um it'd have to be 'so american' by olivia rodrigo."

"he isn't american?"

"no, he's actually portuguese. unfortunately, he doesn't laugh at all my jokes because he thinks i'm corny sometimes but i'm very much in love," you replied, locking eyes with joão while he quietly tiptoes through the kitchen. he blows you an air kiss, making you wink at him.

"was that him? is he with you now?" you cover your mouth to hide your smile and incoming laugh.

"yes, i'm home and he's here too. i believe he just came in from training. it's nice being able to come home to someone."

-four-

"i'm joão félix and here's ten things that i can't live without."

for the next thirty minutes, he explains the stuff he brought in. from his training gear and cleats to his dog to his phone and even his favorite cologne. the last item, wasn't an item but a person.

"she's not here right now but meu amado is the last thing i can't live without. i feel like she constantly grounds me when i need a pick me up. it's been nice having someone to come home to. i also love that we're able to support each other throughout our busy lives," he smiles off to a distance, recalling moments from your relationship.

"nah nah, bro just wants to talk about her all day," his teammate noni rushes into the frame.

"get out, this is my video!" joão says, while laughing behind the words.

"you guys don't understand. i genuinely don't think he can function properly without her. you should see them when we have away matches, just on the phone the entire ride."

"i can't help that she's the love of my life. now, shoo."

-the hard launch-

you were buzzing with nerves while getting dressed for the film festival. you knew all eyes were going to be on you because of the movie that you were in. you also knew, with joão by your side, you could do anything. you were finishing getting ready, when a knock on the door sounded through the room

"come in," you yelled out, thinking it was either your boyfriend or someone from your team. the door opens and closes, footsteps getting closer, you're met with your boyfriend. joão whistles, eyes traveling you from head to toe.

"my god, you are a beauty."

"oh stop it," you close the distance between the two of you and kiss his cheek. he lays his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to his body.

"i'm serious bebê, you are gorgeous. i cant wait to shout it to the sky that we're dating."

"i'm excited too. i can't wait for people to know that my boyfriend is one of the best footballers ever."

"now you're just saying that."

"no, i believe it. there's a difference love."

"y/n, it's time to go!" your manger yells through the closed door.

"you ready babe?"

"always. after you my love," joão says, letting you take the lead.

getting closer to the carpet, your nerves were back. it was as if he could sense it because you felt a squeeze on your hand. you looked up from your lap, locking eyes with your boyfriend.

"no need to be nervous, i'm right here," joão whispers to you, while gliding his thumb across your hand. "are you feeling doubts about us going public?" as much as he didn't want to admit, he would be hurt if you said yes. joão had been waiting to go public for some time now but he knew if you had doubts, he would respect your wishes. your eyes widen upon hearing his question.

"no! babe, i don't doubt a thing when it comes to you. i'm just nervous because it's my first time being here. i don't want to disappoint anyone."

"you won't. you're going to do amazing," he leans over to press a kiss to your lips. leaving a couple pecks and then leaning upwards to kiss your forehead.

when the car comes to a stop, joão is the first to get out. coming around the other side to open the door for you. the screams were already loud when he step out of the car but it doubled as he helped you out. joão fixes the train of your dress before you guys walked hand and hand down the carpet.

"so he was the boyfriend, huh?"

"yes, he's my talented and wonderful boyfriend," you giggled, meeting his gaze. joão shakes his head and joins in on your laughter.

"we're here for her not me. I'm so proud of her and her hard work."

"I'm surprised fans didn't pick up that the two of you were talking about each other the whole time. it really does make sense now," the interviewer let out a chuckle of realization.

"you know, now that you say it, i'm surprised too. our answers were almost always the same," you looked up at him, finding he was already looking at you.

"i don't care, i can finally kiss her in public. i'm dating y/n y/l/n!" joão grins during his mini speech. your smile grows and you pull your joined hands closer to your heart.

"and i'm dating joão félix!"

"talk about hard launch of the century. congratulations on the movie y/n and i wish you nothing but the best."

"thank you for your kind words. it truly means a lot and my best is standing right next to me," you replied to the interviewer. joão's smile grows even bigger and he places a delicate kiss to the top of your head.

"she's my best as well. if anyone cared to know!"

[bad268]

Merda (Joao Felix X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/FC Barcelona

Requested: Yeah (ILY ZEP)

Warnings: Google translate Portuguese, mentions of being called puta

POV: Second Person (You/your but fem accents)

W.C. 1004

Summary: The reader wants to learn Portuguese.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“I feel left out,” You said one day when Joao came back from practice. Immediately, 101 thoughts ran through his head about what you could be left out of. You were pretty close with his friends, you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted, you had the job of your dreams, and you were still able to travel with him whenever you wanted. He always made sure to make you feel included in anything he did, so he had no clue what you could be left out of. 

“Am I missing something here?” He questioned as he set his bag down by the door and walked over to where you sat at the kitchen island cautiously. He gently leaned down to see what you were looking at on your computer, and it was Google Translate. “What is this?”

“You and your friends always talk in a language I don’t speak!” You exclaimed as you flung your hands up to rest against the sides of your face while you looked over at Joao. “I feel left out of your conversations because there’s a language barrier. I just want to know what you’re all saying. I want to be part of the conversation.”

“I could always not speak Portuguese around you,” Joao chuckled in disbelief of the reason as he draped an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“But it is!” You almost shouted as you dropped your hands and snapped your head to look at him. “That’s your native language, and I’d never ask you to stop speaking it around me, especially not when most of your friends speak Portuguese or something similar. I don’t, but I want to!”

“Google Translate won't help you,” He chuckled to himself, finding the situation amusing. “I could always teach you.”

“But that would require me asking for help,” You said simply as you eyed him, “And you know that’s something I struggle with. But if you wanted to offer,” You eyed him again, gesturing to the screen, “I wouldn’t say no.”

“Are you busy with Google Translate now or can I take you on a date?” He asked easily as he gestured to the screen.

“Like now? Tonight? Did you not just hear me?” You rushed out as you looked between him and the screen again. “I’m having an existential crisis right now. Can’t you tell?”

“I can see,” Joao replied, moving to close the laptop. “C’mon, go get ready.”

~

The following week you were able to sit down and actually start learning with Joao. It was very laid back for the most part.

“What do you want to learn to say?” Joao started the day by saying. It was a rare day off for both of you, and you were keen to spend the day cuddling away. You were resting against his chest as you just woke, and he decided now was the best time to talk about learning his native language.

“Can we start with cute things? I want nicknames to call you,” You said in a quiet tone as you pulled back a little to look at him. “You always call me different things, so it would be nice to know what they mean. Like amour, querida, amada, meu tudo, and fufinha.”

“Love, darling, beloved, my everything and cutie,” He listed off quickly. “You could call me those as well. Just change the end from a to o. Portuguese is a romance language, and the people who made the language decided to gender every word. It’s complicated, but all you need to know right now is that when you talk about a guy or multiple people, the end is an o. If you're talking about a female or a group of all women, it ends with an a.”

“So I can call you amouro, querido, amado, meu tudo and fofinho?” You asked a little confused.

“Not amouro, just amour,” He chuckled lightly as he left a light kiss on your forehead. “You can also do some funnier names like idiota, meaning idiot, cornel, which sounds bad but means sweetheart, or lindo.”

“What does lindo mean?” You asked skeptically. There’s no way he would have conveniently left that one out.

“Handsome,” Joao whispered into your hair as he moved to place butterfly kisses around your face.

“So, if I started calling you “lindo”, would you answer?” You teased as you moved your head around to try and get him to stop the flutter of kisses. “Meu lindo namorado? Did I do it right?”

“Wait, did you just call me your handsome boyfriend?” He gasped as you let out a laugh as you nodded. “But I didn’t teach you that!”

“Maybe, maybe not,” You shrugged lightheartedly as you turned to get up from the bed. You start walking to your closet to pick out your outfit of the day and head for the ensuite. “Now, come on, minha vida. Last I checked, we had plans with seus companheiros de time. I think Pedri, Fermin, and Ferran will throw a fit if we’re late for lunch.”

“Where did you learn that? My life, your teammates?” Joao got up in shock as he followed you to the bathroom, practically caging you against the sink. “When did you learn all of that? I’m proud of you, but I want to know when you learned that.”

“Let’s just say I listen,” You teased as you pulled his face down to leave a kiss firmly on his lips. You pulled back with a teasing smirk on your lips when he tried to chase your mouth. Not so fast, Mr.” You put a finger to his lips to gently push him back. “Does your mother know you call me “puta”?

“Merda,” Joao said under his breath as he looked to the side. He knew this was teasing but that didn’t stop him from playing into your antics.

“Fuck me is right,” You teased back. “I don’t know everything but let’s just say I have an idea now.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[dreamwithlost]

֗ ִ  ּ ۪*· FESTA DEL REDENTORE ֗ ִ  ּ ۪ 

Hyunjin x Reader

Gênero: Friends to lovers, comediazinha romântica, Amore italiano!

W.C: 1.5K

Avisos: Hyunjin ser comparado com a Rita Lee é culpa da Sun, Prota italiana mas a família é brasileira, Hyunjin ragazzino

ᏪNotas: Eu precisava escrever algo com o Hyunjin se não ia explodir! E daí estava lendo um pouco sobre essa festa del redentore, e pah, por que não um amor nos canais de Veneza? Espero mesmo que gostem meus amores, boa leitura ❤️

Você nunca hesitou em declarar a Hyunjin o quanto o achava belo. Suas palavras, porém, frequentemente revestidas de adjetivos como "fofo" ou "delicado", tocavam uma nota incômoda no moreno, mesmo que você não percebesse. Para ele, aquilo soava como um lembrete de que você não o levava a sério.

Aos seus olhos, ele continuava sendo o garoto da casa ao lado: aquele com quem você compartilhava tardes de brincadeiras e aventuras na infância. Com o passar dos anos, ele ainda insistia em brincadeiras infantis demais para o seu gosto sofisticado e maduro; mesmo que os cinco anos de diferença entre vocês não fossem tão relevantes para algumas pessoas.

Mas naquela noite, as estrelas estavam alinhadas de maneira diferente sobre o céu de Veneza, cidade onde cresceram juntos — apesar de seu coração ser sempre tão brasileiro quanto o de sua mãe. Hyunjin, que sempre te admirou, estava determinado a mudar a maneira como você o via. Ele não seria mais apenas um amigo de infância, mas um homem com sentimentos intensos e um desejo profundo de ser reconhecido e amado por você. Hyunjin queria que você finalmente o visse como alguém que não só poderia te proteger, mas também caminhar ao seu lado como igual.

Ele estava decidido a fazer você ser dele — … Não da forma psicopata que isso poderia soar, mas de uma maneira romântica.

Este era o terceiro sábado de julho, logo, marcava o início de uma de suas comemorações favoritas: a Festa del Redentore. A festa de origens religiosas, comemorava o fim de uma praga devastadora no século XVI, e incluia uma espetacular queima de fogos de artifício na noite de sábado. As pessoas se reúniam em barcos e nas margens dos canais para festejar e assistir ao show, mas você sempre preferiu observar do conforto e segurança de sua janela, como seus pais lhe ensinaram desde pequena. Mas Hyunjin não permitiria que isso acontecesse esta noite, por este motivo, lá estava você, caminhando até a ponte dell'Accademia, local onde marcou de se encontrar com seu amigo.

Para sua surpresa, o ponto turístico ainda não estava tão movimentado, então foi fácil encontrar o rapaz no centro da ponte, encostado na proteção lateral e apreciando as gôndolas que passavam pelo canal. Você se aproximou um pouco confusa, suas madeixas e corte de cabelo estavam diferentes, em um tom profundo como a noite e um corte repicado, pouco tradicional para o moreno.

— Achei que você não viria, amore mio — o Hwang virou-se para você com um sorriso de canto, e lhe esticou a mão.

Você não pode evitar, e acabou por cair na gargalhada ao observar os óculos de lentes vermelhas no rosto do rapaz, semelhante ao cardigan descolado que cobria sua regata preta. Ele estava pronto para bailar a noite toda em alguma balada perdida entre as vielas de Veneza, algo inusitado para quem estava indo ver fogos de artificio; não que o Hwang estivesse feio, — ao contrário, a luz dos postes refletida em seu rosto o fazia parecer um anjo ou uma estrela de cinema. Todavia o seu subconsciente já havia se fixado em uma comparação mais engraçada do que essas para conseguir voltar atrás.

— Rita Lee é você? — Você perguntou entre risos, recebendo um olhar de completa confusão do rapaz italiano distante da cultura brasileira, que não conhecia a estrela do rock.

— Qual é — Hyunjin bufou, indignado — Eu não estou para brincadeira, era para você se apaixonar.

— Ah, claro, Rita, ti amo, desde a época dos Mutantes, amore mio — Brincou mais uma vez, repetindo o apelido carinhoso, e pendeu para o lado em meio as risadas, o que acabou por lhe fazer esbarrar em algumas crianças que corriam animadas para entrar em seus barcos e esperar a queima de fogos.

Você não sabia se tal esbarrão poderia ou não ter lhe derrubado, pois Hyunjin não esperou para descobrir, dando um passo velozmente a frente, e lhe segurando pela cintura, colando os seus corpos. Não soube dizer o porque, mas o enquadramento em que o rosto preocupado do amigo brilhava sobre a ponte, lhe fez corar fortemente, sentiu sua respiração intercalar-se com a do moreno, que lhe lançou um sorriso ladino tão diferente dos que já havia visto.

— Que foi? Acabou a graça? — Ele murmurou, ainda a segurando, e você se perguntou se o rapaz não teria até mesmo pago a mãe daquelas crianças para criar essa cena cinematograficamente perfeita.

Você tentou se recompor, arrancou os óculos divertidos do rosto do Hwang e os posicionou sobre seu nariz ao se afastar, tentando voltar ao divertimento rotineiro.

— Bora logo, ragazzino — Chamou o mais novo, começando a caminhar para o final da ponte.

Você estava se dirigindo para onde algumas gôndola estavam “estacionadas” juntamente de seus gondoleiros, prontos para serem contratados, todavia, Hyunjin segurou em seu braço gentilmente, negando com o indicador aquela ação, e a levou até uma gôndola afastada, ela parecia mais imponente, sua madeira escura, polida e reluzente, e o estofado interno avermelhado.

— Vamos nessa aqui.

— E você sabe pilotar… navegar, sei lá, nisso? — Você perguntou, observando o rapaz encaixar o grande remo no forcole do barco.

— Claro! Esqueceu que meu pai é gondoleiro?

— E também já foi cozinheiro, jornalista, cantor, segurança, garçom, fotografo… — Não que você duvidasse das capacidades de seu querido tio de consideração, todavia, vê-lo trocar de emprego toda semana não lhe dava muita credibilidade.

— Confia em mim — O jovem pediu, estendendo a mão novamente.

Dessa vez, você não riu. Apenas ajeitou os óculos roubados e segurou firme na mão delicada de seu amigo para entrar na gôndola.

Ainda faltavam alguns minutos para o inicio dos fogos, e Hyunjin vagou lentamente entre os barcos da região, procurando o melhor ambiente para vislumbrar os céus, e o mais tranquilo também, ele sabia que você nunca gostou muito de multidões, e sem duvidas isso incluía nos barcos também.

— Né que você realmente sabe o que tá fazendo? — Você comentou, impressionada enquanto ele finalmente encontrava o local perfeito para parar, se sentando à sua frente em seguida.

— Eu te falei — Disse vitorioso e se inclinou em sua direção, retirando os óculos de seus olhos.

Pela primeira vez, você sentiu seu coração agitar-se com aquela aproximação. Hyunjin não fez nenhuma brincadeira, ou reclamou dos óculos, apenas ágil gentilmente, o que de certa forma lhe encantou.

— Por que você insiste tanto em mim, hein, ragazzino? — Você perguntou, curiosa, enquanto a gôndola balançava suavemente sobre o canal.

— E por que você nunca vê os fogos fora de casa? — Hyunjin rebateu com uma nova pergunta. Você reparou que suas mãos estavam unidas, se esfregando como sinal de ansiedade. Era a primeira vez que o via verdadeiramente nervoso, então, decidiu aceitar a troca de assuntos e respondeu:

— Acho que tenho medo — Você confessou, olhando para o céu acima de vocês. Medo exatamente do quê, você não sabia.

— E por que aceitou vir comigo então?

Porque aceitou ir com Hyunjin, então?

Antes que aquela indagação pudesse receber uma resposta, seja para si mesma ou para o amigo de longa data, o primeiro fogo de artificio estourou no céu, anunciando que a missa na igreja Redentore havia acabado, e o cronograma estava sendo seguido. Inconscientemente o seu corpo deu um pequenino salto do acento quando aquele som se intensificou.

— Meu Deus, agora eu entendi, eu tenho mesmo medo — Exclamou, levando as mãos ao peito em uma reação exagerada com o estrondo, embora seus olhos permanecessem fixos nas cores que surgiam e desapareciam no céu. Era impressionante, mas assustador — E se um desses foguetes cair no barco? Não tem teto para proteger não! Meus Deus vai pegar fogo!

Hyunjin soltou uma gargalhada, surpreso com sua preocupação. Era a primeira vez que ele o via assim também; normalmente você era a garota corajosa que cuidava de seus ferimentos e colocava curativos divertidos. Ele se levantou e deslizou para o seu lado, seus corpos grudados no pequeno assento da gôndola.

— Fica tranquila, eles não vão chegar aqui — Ele disse, passando um dos braço pelo seu pescoço, lhe reconfortando em um abraço lateral. Você o encarou e percebeu que seu rosto não mostrava diversão com aquela frase; ele estava sendo sincero e queria te acalmar. Não era uma tentativa de cantada fajuta — Eu te protejo.

Você sorriu com a afirmação e sentiu seu medo desaparecer com o calor do corpo de Hyunjin ao seu lado. Seus olhos estavam fixados no rosto esguio dele, refletindo as cores do céu, e a forma como a sua íris brilhava mais do que qualquer explosão.

— Eu aceitei porque com você não tenho medo — Você concluiu, levando uma das mãos ao queixo do rapaz, fazendo-o te encarar, seus rostos próximos, compartilhando do mesmo quadrante de ar — Como você cresceu, hein, Hyunjin.

Então, com suavidade, você selou seus lábios nos dele. Foi um beijo delicado e sutil, que revelou a maciez e a firmeza de sua boca — características que lhe mostravam, pela primeira vez, que ele era um homem verdadeiro, mesmo com seu jeito bobo e encantador. Naquele momento, você percebeu que não o via mais como a criança que imaginava. O simples toque dos seus lábios disparou o maior foguete de todos dentro do seu coração.

Você se afastou, repousou a cabeça sobre o ombro de Hyunjin e voltou a olhar para os fogos de artifício, dessa vez realmente os apreciando e cedento a aquela sensação nova. De canto de olho, você pôde ver a feição completamente perdida e em êxtase de Hyunjin ao seu lado.

[mrs-stardustt]

dating Amado Carrillo Fuentes (1/?)

a/n: back up on my bullshit, back up on the scene

you don't knowwww how bad I am down for this man, like, just look at him babe

so, you guess it, i had to start this series with my tontín. i have no idea with whom of the other characters go next sooo if you have some suggestion don’t be shy and let me know, alright?

hope you enjoy this one,

 have fun indulging my delusions babesss

TW: NSFW (18+), implied fem reader

gif credit: @nomoregoldfish​ 

god this mannnn

first and foremost, how lucky are you to be dating this don juán???

we all know that he had his fun whilst single, he was for and by the streets babe

but once he met you oh boyyyyy

he strikes me as a love of first sight kinda man, just like not in a romcom way, more in the I met you and I know you're my person<3 right away

but to add a bit of spice: enemies to lovers with Amado????? OMG don't get me started

just imagine how he would pick at you just to see you all pissed off at him

and you being just as petty as he is, making each other annoyed as quickly as posible

however sooner of later maybe you two realise that you have more in common than you thought, perhaps you'll see that he is really no tontín and actually is a very intelligent man, someone who is deeply observing and attentive

he sees that too, and probably sooner than you: he always knew how fucking hermosa you are, that your smarter than you give yourself credit for, that you have a strong will and a soft heart

and I don't make the rules (I kinda do) but he falls in first

yep you heard that right, he is head over heels babe

my man would make a fool of himself E V E R Y T I M E but you gotta love him for that

he really strikes me at the type to be buying a ring just as soon as he knows you’re the one, he’ll be en las nubes, con la cabecita en el cielo (kinda on brand lol) imagining you being his wife, having kids, a house and all:(( 

buuuuuut, he’s no intenso

he'll give you space, he won't act on anything if he doesn't believe that you feel the same way

he will most likely embarrassed himself at some point tho

just let’s bffr if anything, Amado is a chill man, let’s not forget that. he is cool and so sure of himself BUT if he slightly feels threatened by anyone???? OMG RUNNN

possessive amado enters the chat

as soon as he sees some type of competition (even if you don't even like/give attention to them) he is ready to fight

that's when he actively starts going after you, because there's no way he is losing his reina

he is a old fashion romántico

specially if you two start dating after Amado starts working alongside Acosta, we know Amado is taking notes on how to curt such a woman like you

let's just take a second to think on how roast Amado is with Acosta and his men, they’ll be mocking how whipped he is lol but he doesn’t care, he’ll do anything to make you happy:(

so he asks you on a date, on whatever you like, that doesn't matter, but he is HANDS ON to make you choose him<3. he is just very invested that everything is of you liking, that if you go to have dinner, the food is perfect, the lightning is just right and shit

and we all know him, when he wants something he is persistenttt

and doesn't matter if you little resistant to really give him a chance (again, don juán) but he will really really try:( he has one mission and is to make you the happiest:(

after just one date he's EAGER to have a second one. he got a hold on you for a moment now he can't let you go mija

and once he is committed, forget about anything else. no vieja or desmadre outside of you matter anymore. you're his top priority and he makes sure you know that, so you get the idea: the whole relationship starts at your pace, he follows the patrona words

it is worth to address that at first he is hesitant to show you anything about his job, even if you already know. you’re safety goes first so you’re relationship is a bit of a secret but not really a secret, you know??

in public, no one really knows what is going on between you too, just something has change. now he gives himself permission to stare a little longer at your pretty face, he compliments you more often when he sees you but nothing too showy

BUT IN PRIVATE??? jesus fucking christ

when i say this man is romantic???

domestic Amado is the softest and most relax you will ever see him

FOREHEAD KISSES OMG all. the. fucking. time.

it's like a little reminder that he is present and to show you a little affection without too much PDA

and I am just convinced that he gives THE best kisses. he is so passionate and caring, fully embracing the moment. with one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek/hair how could you even doubt that my man is a good kisser???? I CAN'T-

he just lives to make you feel goooood mija

so get the memo: you two are the most foolish in love people to ever exist. he makes you feel like a real princesa. all you ever dream is at your feet, no need to ask

also I want to mention that when he is away from you, like on a work trip or something he most definitely is calling your every single night to just hear your voice:(((

but not everything is perfeeeect:(

i know i know who would've thought????

one big problem i see you having with Amado is him running away from confrontation. he just doesn’t want ANYTHING bad near you and he has a lot of shit going on that it may scare him

also Amado doesn’t communicate really well. you see him having a hard time at work?? he won’t tell you a thingggg. you get frustrated bc you know him like, he can’t escape the wise woman you are, you see between his “no tengo nada, amor, no te preocupes” “una pendejada allá en el trabajo pero no es nada, tú cómo estás, eh, bonita?”  so guess what???? confrontation will happen

although fights/discussions are solved very quickly, neither of you can stay away from eachother so the only option is to eventually loose a little pride and be open:(

so you’ll need patience with him, he’ll come around to his feelings and be open about it, just he needs time. 

at one point he’ll understand that you are very much the medicine of his penares. he’s got you, he won’t need anything more

but don’t worryyyyyy

all is fine babe

at the end he is very much in love and it showwws. the tontín romántico won’t miss a single day to remind you that he is all yoursss

expect a random ramo de flores because he thought of you mid day

him going late for work because he just wanted 5 more minutes with you in the morning

trips to whatever place he had in mind just ‘cause he can. imagine having a call randomly of him just saying “prepárate una maleta con un vestido bonito, te llevo a Los Cabos amor” of some shit like that. we know he flexes about his planes, that is a fact

goofy little smiles when you two encounter each other after a long day

AYyy NO, i’m so soft for him:((((

little i have to tell you that he is the perfect partner, no one goes near to him when he is in love

NSFW part:

BIGGEST TEASE OF ALL TIME

he has make his top priority to know you body. he knowss where and how to get a reaction of you

and he takes avantage of that, you better believe that

he loves to see you trying to conceal his effects on you. imagine you in the passenger seat while his driving and WE KNOW he'll put his hand on your thigh and slowly and without looking at you moving it close to where you need him the most UGHHH

I can fucking picture his smug smile while he does his little ministrations like omg

needless to say that he is a gentle soft dom

there I say it, idc

btw we can't escape from his cocky side, he'll make you beg if you try to challenge him (and that happens more often than not)

he'll have you underneath him, cock drunk with how well he is taking care of you

side note: his fav position most likely is you riding him, don't ask

such a brat tamer energy lol

it is a back and forth on who gets away with their teasing and that little game doesn't end until the other gives in

if it's you is not until he finally gives you what you want, he has you in all fours pounding so good and fast, your mind hazy and your moans slipping from you that you can admit that he won

if it's him is when your on your knees, your mouth full of him but not letting him come to practically beg you to keep going

and on the side of the blowjobssss

he liveeeees for them, there's no other way he wants to end his day then to have his beautiful mujer on her knees pleasing himm

him throwing his head back, hand on your hair but not pushing too much with his breathing getting quicker as you fasten your movements WHAT A SIGHT OMG

and he'll like when you take control of things, when you're the one taking the shots. he appreciates the effort soooo much

but when you give that power to him? oh darlinggg prepárate

we had said how happy he is to make YOU happy and that goes straight up to the bed game.

he makes sure you come first and at least one time before he is inside you

and idk why but I just see him a very skill with his fingers iykyk babe

the foreplay is a MUST between you, he likes to take his time and to really feel you. and that extends to kissing you nonstop until air is much neede

he is such a intense and passionate lover, I have no doubtssss

I see him being a little experimental in bed but you have to propose the things you wanna try, he doesn't push your limits NEVER

not an exhibitionist but loooooves to tease you in public lol

however, something where you get too close to get caught he won't do it, he likes to keep this private business, private

KING OF AFTERCARE

he loves to see you so close when you two are done, with sleepy eyes and satisfied smiles. he is a cuddler for sureee

just know that like everything with him is so fun and full of love babe<3

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n @arcticversed (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

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 : Everything that was happening on Aruba Island wasn't right at all. You know damn well when Amado kissed you. And when you heard the sound of the gunshots behind you

AN : I was almost giving up on updating this fic until I found new comments. Thank you to those who still enjoy my work. I will try to update as long as there are people waiting to read.

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[5]ᅳ 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢́𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐨 ✟

"Amado Carrillo Fuentes is more like a businessman than a drug lord. His background is clean compared to others in the same industry. This man is cautious and stays under the radar all the time. We need to know everything about him. Every detail matters.

That's a summary given by Bill Carter in the last meeting before you leave Mexico tonight.

And when the time comes, you have to leave everything about yourself behind. From now on, you'll have to breathe under the name of Camilla, a musician from Cuba. And it will be like this until you can safely return to Mexico again, if there are no mistakes during that time.

Amado's fascination with airplanes is more than what you imagined. You realize this when you're brought to his private airport. Lined up are all types and sizes of planes, totaling no less than a hundred. Every plane here belongs to Amado. Also, it's the same plane used to secretly smuggle tons of cocaine into America every year.

El Señor de los Cielos is the nickname drug dealers use to refer to Amado, the most powerful man both on land and in the sky. The man on top of the food chain

And this same man is waiting for you in front of a private jet. It's not difficult to notice him, with his flowing hair and the same old black shirt you first met him in, now covered with a bomber jacket. A satisfied smile passes through his sunglasses when you step out of the car. You briefly catch Amado's eye before flashing a smile back at him.

Starting the drama with a beautiful face and a survival instinct, just follow a few simple rules: just hold hands, just smile, and just turn a blind eye and pretend to fuck him a few times. Just run away before getting caught.

Throughout the time you step straight into him, you never know what you're really getting into.

Life can change suddenly and easily. One day you're still a CIA officer, and the next you become the partner of a criminal. And what will happen next? How many bombs will explode in front of you? How many people will die in your life? And when will death finally become yours?

You can't find answers to these questions.

Lately, you've often imagined the end of yourself, from the moment you closed your eyes to the moment you woke up—every pain you've ever experienced in the past, which still remains and continues to haunt you. It will never disappear until the end comes for you, just like it did for others before.

The end must come one day. And for the law enforcer who fights against the dark power all the time, there's no way this story will end well. Either with you or with Amado.

You know. You're prepared, unwaveringly. But it still turns out worse than expected.

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

Aruba Island, Kingdom of the Netherlands

1600 (Military Time) *Three Hours Before the Incident*

Although it's approaching evening, the sunlight on Aruba Island is still bright and clear, no different from the afternoon. The scene in the travel magazine doesn't seem exaggerated at all when seen with your own eyes. The clean white sandy beaches, lush green coconut trees, and crystal-clear blue sea reflect the shimmering sun. It's breathtakingly beautiful here, and the atmosphere is just right—neither too quiet nor too bustling like the seas in Miami or Thailand.

This place is suitable for tourism, you think, and also suitable for opening a cocaine market for these tourists.

But Amado's purpose for coming to Aruba Island remains unclear, something you must urgently investigate while there's still a chance.

For you, every second is crucial and calculated, tension infiltrating every action.

But for Amado, it's the opposite. He seems completely at ease. You can tell from the relaxed smile on his face all the time.

You glance at Amado thoughtfully, not hiding your slight surprise as you see him change into a blue Hawaiian shirt, yellow shorts, and slip on sunglasses with a smile. He blends seamlessly with the other tourists. For you, this is quite a surprising and unexpected look compared to his usual all-black attire.

"What wrong, Mija?[1] You're staring at me too much, I'm starting to blush," he said, raising his eyebrows with a playful smile after handing you the Esquites[2] he bought from the nearby store. "Or am I so handsome that I'm stunning you?"

You chuckled and took the Esquites from his hand, then pretended to glance at him with a half-serious look. "It's not that much," you shrugged. "Just... average."

"Average? No, Mija. You should say, You look so handsome, Amado!"

You burst into laughter again, genuinely amused by this man's incredible sense of humor.

The dark stories you've heard about the drug wars in Mexico seem like distant memories here. There's no violence, no gunfire or explosions, and no cocaine. 

And your date, who was enjoying Esquites by the seaside with you at this moment, was hardly anything like a world-class drug dealer.

But beneath the seemingly ordinary and charming nature of Amado Carrillo Fuentes, you know what he's capable of and how dangerous he is.

Honey trapping [3] is another important method to access intelligence for secret agents worldwide. It's not your expertise compared to other spies, but you're confident that you can do it just as well. You intentionally charm him without going too far, being both a good speaker and listener, creating an atmosphere that's relaxed and friendly. Every conversation you have leads him to tell you what you want to know.

However, Amado's responses barely provide any significant information for the mission. It seems more like casual chit-chat. If it weren't for the fact that he is exceptionally clever and cautious, it would mean that he must be a very inane person.

Of course, you're damn sure he's not stupid. Amado is a true master of deception. What you can do is make him like you enough to let his guard down a bit, and that's the ultimate challenge of this mission.

There's still plenty of time. You think. And maybe...that was the first mistake that led to bad things in ways you never expected.

"I want you to answer truthfully, Mija."

That sounds like just another normal question from Amado, but not for you. You blinked slightly as you caught a hint of seriousness in his tone. Yet, you still pretended to smile as if everything were normal. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I do, right?"

For a moment, you hesitated. But you managed to maintain your composure, even though your heart was pounding with excitement and anxiety.

You couldn't predict why he asked you this question. You weren't sure if it was just one of Amado's tests, or worse, if he was starting to suspect you. But regardless, your answer would undoubtedly affect the entire mission, one way or another.

Because Amado was clear about wanting the truth. Ultimately, you chose to take the risk and answer as he desired. You softly reply, "i think I can figured as much."

"And aren't you afraid of me? Even when you know what I do?"

It could be either a threat or a challenge from the drug lord. You could feel Amado's piercing gaze, scrutinizing. However, this time, you handled it better than before. You turned to face him, inching closer without a hint of fear, even if just a little.

"Should I be afraid then?"

"Of course, you should be terrified, Mija," Amado's arms wrapped around your waist slowly, pulling your body closer until there was no space between you. The mingling sensation of his breath tickling your face, combined with the scent of cologne and cigarettes, made your heart race in a way different from before, clear and distinct.

It was too close—much closer than you thought. A slight flutter of nervousness crossed your mind, but you couldn't retreat, especially when you were under his tight arms.

Amado was too smart. He deliberately blocked off every escape route for you.

"My life has encountered many terrifying things,There's nothing left in this world that can make me scared anymore."

That was another truth you decided to reveal to him.

Certainly, you were afraid of the mission failing. But that didn't mean you were afraid of Amado. Years of CIA work exposed you to countless horrors. You had killed many and lost many. So, what reason did you have to fear someone like him?

It wasn't just Amado who tried to test or challenge you. You chose to do the same. It was a slight defiance and a steady gaze that showed your refusal to submit. That was enough to create even more surprise for the man known as the biggest in the drug trade, a man whom everyone else bowed to out of fear.

The sun had disappeared from the sky, gradually dimming Amado's face with shadows. However, his eyes still sparkled, no different from the streetlights. You tried hard to read his thoughts from his expression, but it was too difficult. You didn't know what he was thinking or what he would do next.

But his decision in the end surprised you.

His lips pressed against yours, catching you off guard. It was a brief  kiss, yet long enough to make you feel and remember every detail. the stubble of his beard, the bitter taste of cigarettes lingering on his tongue, the warm and humid heat in his mouth, intense with desire until your body trembled.

It felt as though your lips were being burned by an invisible flame, and the fire still smoldered deep within even after he pulled away. His hand lingered on your cheek, trailing slowly down to your chin, before using his thumb to touch your lower lip. Amado's eyes never left yours, and beneath those intense gazes, there was something dangerous and alluring hidden within.

"Will you dance with me?"

Even though you knew how dangerous he was, Amado was undeniably romantic. That was something you had to admit.

Nothing could be more romantic than dancing on the beach at night. And Amado knew it well. The moonlight shining brightly in the sky, the breeze blowing through your hair and skin, and the sweet melody of Latin music floating in the air. His large hand rested on the small of your back, and his arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, gently guiding your body to sway to the rhythm.

This time, there were no tests or challenge like before. "Just dancing with me" Amado said before pulling you back into his embrace. 

The dance proceeded quietly and calmly. The word 'calm' felt strangely out of place for a CIA like you. It was like a phrase that didn't exist in your life, But what was happening now might be the closest thing you could think of—a feeling of relaxation and comfort as you laid your head on his chest, and his thumb to massage your back.

This wasn't right at all.

Standing in a country where you hardly knew, in a street where you had forgotten the name, you felt safe next to a man you knew was dangerous. It wasn't something you should feel at a time like this with someone like him. You should say something, focus on the mission as you should, but at the same time, you didn't want to ruin what was happening. And Amado probably felt the same. He was silent, saying nothing, Everything between you and him was so quiet that you could hear the music, the laughter of other dancing couples nearby, the sound of the waves, and the sound of his breath blowing on your neck.

...Before the sound of the gunshots rang out.

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[1] Mija in Spanish means "daughter." However, in a slang context, it can mean "dear” or “honey"

[2]Esquites Another name for it is "elote en vaso" or "elote" (specifically in America). It's a well-known Mexican street food made with grilled corn, mayonnaise, spices, and cheese.

[3] Honey trapping is a method of investigation or espionage that has been used since World War II. It involves deception through the use of romantic or sexual relationships with a target individual who possesses important information or resources.

[proceduralpassion]

Walls Closing In

Day 20 of Narcoctober- Create a fanwork about a character getting exactly what they need from someone unexpected

Character(s): Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Reader

CW: claustrophobia

WC: 552

A/N: A lil Amado ficlet, mwah bbs.

“You’re braver than you think.” 

Your head snaps back, unaware that you were not alone as you looked out at the night sky on the balcony. Your stomach settles when you realize it’s your client, Amado. You turn back around and roll your eyes as you register his statement.

“It wasn’t bravery so much as it was either fight or flight.”

Amado shrugs as he joins your leaned figure on the railing, “And alas, you made the decision to take flight, even though you hate tunnels.”

It wasn’t so much as you hate tunnels so much as you hated the feeling of the walls closing in on you. Your claustrophobia was clinically dreadful and having to escape across the border through underground channels was one of your worst nightmares. You had found out only minutes before that there were feds on their way to one of Amado’s properties for a search and seizure. You couldn’t so much as defend your client if you were in jail yourself for being in that same location that was infested with contraband and illegal arms. 

Amado and his entourage were self-assured in their decision to flee through the underground tunnels and though he probably would’ve dragged you down there had you resisted much more than you already had, those steps to escape were heavy like lead. You had vertigo about as soon as you had entered the tunnel and found yourself barely breathing and drenched in sweat by the time you came up for air.

Now, you found yourself on another one of the man’s probably dozen properties enjoying the liberty that came with free air and no walls. 

“I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

It’s probably the first time in a long time he’s ever expressed regret and definitely the first time he’s ever apologized to you. Your client-attorney privilege was usually cold and emotionless. Amado declared orders and sniped his irritation without an ounce of decorum. You, giving as good as you got, made snide remarks and regularly insinuated that he was not a smart person. Your entire career consisted of dealing with professional criminals and it was the same with your life even before that due to being raised by a money launderer and conwoman. It gave you a fearless disposition when working with such dangerous men, something Amado found amusing given how scared you were of small spaces. 

Still, his apology is sincere and you take it as it is instead of throwing back a snarky response. 

You don’t say “it’s fine,” because it’s not, but you nod at his earnestness. 

A beat passes and he speaks again, “I had someone bring clothes and necessities to your guest room. We’ll probably need to lay low for a few days. And you’re to let someone know if you need anything that’s not already available in the house.”

He walks away, heading back into the main room of the property. His last words to you before closing the sliding doors is “good night.”

Before he had walked out here, you had relegated yourself to sleeping out here on the balcony, too pinned up to want to sleep in the confines of four walls. Alas, there's something in the mix of his sincere words and emotionless orders that's hauling your tired body inside.

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