#amado x pacho
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When Love Gets Poisonous
Chapter 1: Easy Decision
What if Amado came up with a creative solution when North Valley demanded to kill Pacho in Season 3?
!Kidnapping !DubCon (later chapters)
Rating: General Audience
Paring: Amado/Pacho
Words: 2,478
Amado paces around the huge bedroom with probably the tenth cigarette for today. He hasn’t been so stressed since…since forever.
He looks at the king size bed covered in silk duvet, where Pacho’s sleeping peacefully, motionlessly, but he should be waking up in the next few minutes or so. The drug will wear off soon, according to the doctor.
It looks like paradise outside: blue ocean, white sand, palm trees, sunshine everyday… Amado built this place along with his house in Juárez. It’s supposed to be his own ideal hideout, a last resort if he has no other options. There’s no one other than his men in this house, on this entire island. Nobody can find them — this is literally the middle of nowhere. Amado never thought he would even let anyone else know about this location, let alone keeping someone here.
He didn’t do this to hurt Pacho; he will never hurt Pacho. Amado tries to convince himself. He even wrapped Pacho’s right wrist in soft cloth before handcuffing it to the bed, so the cold metal won’t cut into his skin. He’s trying to help him, to save him. He just didn’t have time to come up with a better plan. Pacho will understand eventually, right?
No. No, that’s just a lie he tells himself. There’s nothing noble about what he’s done. This isn’t about saving Pacho; it’s about having Pacho, which he has wanted for so long but never dreamt of actually happening. So he saw an opportunity and took it, no different than taking a new territory or more products. This is just a much better prize.
*
“Amado…?”
“Yeah! Yeah I’m here.” He rushes to the bedside, taking Pacho’s hand into his own. “It’s ok, you’re going to be fine.”
“What…” Pacho blinks up at him, “Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe.” Amado slides an arm behind his back to help him sit up, holding a glass of water to his lips. “Here, drink this.”
Pacho takes a few sips and leans back against a pillow, clearly still under some after effects of the drugs in his system. His pupils are struggling to focus, his hand barely having any strength against Amado’s palm.
Amado holds him closer, silently counting down the few blissful minutes he has until Pacho completely wakes up. He puts down the glass and holds Pacho’s hand again, this time tentatively lacing their fingers together, which is immediately returned with the same gesture, completely natural and unsuspecting. A rush of warmth burns from their interlocked fingers, running up along his palm, arm, filling his chest with a painful fullness, and finally reaching behind his eyes. He senses Pacho’s weight shifting off his shoulder, sees the way his head snaps to look at his shackled right hand.
Before Pacho jerks his left hand free from him, Amado brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss on the knuckles, knowing this is the first and last time he’ll ever get to do it.
*
Pacho touches his handcuff, then yanks on it, not very forcefully, almost like he’s making sure if it’s really there. Then he stops moving entirely, like the realization freezes him. Only his shoulders are shaking slightly with rapid yet controlled breathing.
“Is it North Valley?”
Pacho turns around, and Amado expects to see rage, betrayal or even hatred from Pacho’s brown eyes, but right now they are only filled with shock, confusion and something else. Something like…disappointment.
“What did they offer you for this?”
“What? No that’s not…” Amado feels like he just got stabbed in the stomach, and has to take a deep breath to ease the pain. Did Pacho really think he would ever… “It was North Valley, but I’m not fucking giving you to them! I’m saving you from them.”
Pacho straight up laughs at that, and Amado recognizes that scoff from distant memories, when Félix was still around and Pacho would call out his lies with complete certainty and coldness.
“Look Pacho, I…” He stands up, feeling that he might get punched in the face if he doesn’t get out of Pacho’s reach. “I’m not lying, ok? I’m sorry I didn’t come up with a better plan, but I was just trying to keep you alive.”
“And this…” Pacho lifts his restrained arm. “This is how you keep someone alive?”
“I just didn’t want you to strangle me the second you wake up!”
“Yeah? Fucking good call!”
“Alright, let’s just…” Amado puts his hands up, and sits down on an armchair far enough from the bed. “Here’s what happened: you told me Cali was getting out, so I talked to Henao to set up my future supply. He agreed, but with one non-negotiable condition.”
“And you told him yes?”
Amado runs a hand down his face, and then looks up, staring Pacho in the eye while telling him the truth— It’s probably the most difficult thing he’s ever done, but Pacho at least deserves this much respect.
“I told him I would do it myself, and as far as everyone knows, it’s done.”
*
For a few seconds, there’s absolutely nothing on Pacho’s face, no reaction whatsoever. It’s like time has stopped, and Amado’s forever frozen in the torturous state right before the judge drops his hammer.
“Get out.”
“Pacho…” He’s cut off by something flying straight to his head, and barely manages to dodge the shattering pieces of glass as it hits the wall.
“Patrón? Is everything ok?” Someone rushes over banging on the door almost immediately.
“Yeah we’re good!” Amado waits until he hears fading footsteps to speak again, but when he opens his mouth, no word is coming out of his lips.
“You know what, Amado?” Pacho ends up breaking the silence, his entire body tensed with anger. But it’s not a fuming rampage, more like a cooled down, contained rage, with a certain finality to it.
“I would have had a little respect left for you, if you actually had the guts to kill me.”
He knows. He has accepted the consequences when he made this decision, and whenever he had a tiny sense of doubt, he reminded himself that the alternative would be way worse. But God…none of that helps when he hears these words coming straight from Pacho’s lips, the same pair of lips that used to laugh and joke with him, the lips that he kissed once.
“Well, better your life than your respect.” Amado swallows the lump in his throat. Pacho doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at him, so he takes the chance to walk into the bathroom and splash some cold water on his face. Then he looks into the mirror: his skin looks paler than usual, his hair is a mess and there are dark circles under his eyes. It’s not surprising, since he didn’t sleep at all last night, but this extreme exhaustion is more than that. It can’t be fixed by some good rest, delicious food, or relaxing massage. It won’t be fixed by anything.
It won’t get better again.
*
He grabs a towel and walks back out, crouching down next to the mess, and starts gathering all the shattered glass pieces with the towel. He doesn’t need to do that himself, but he tries to find excuses, like it’s not a good idea to have someone coming in right now when Pacho’s still tied to the bed, or he should do something personally just to show his remorse and guilt.
“How did you do it?”
“What?” The sudden sound startles him, and he nearly cuts his fingertip. “How did I…get you here?”
From this angle, with Pacho looking down at him, it feels like their roles are reversed, and he’s the prisoner being interrogated.
“How did you kill me?”
“Oh.” It feels strange actually hearing that, almost a bit funny if he were in a better mood. “Car bomb, they won’t recognize the body.”
Pacho scoffs, “So that’s where my necklace and ring went.”
He doesn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe those pieces of jewelry had some emotional value, since Pacho wore them all the time, but that’s exactly why they need to be on the body.
“I had to make it look convincing.”
With that, they fall into silence again. The air is so dead that even the sound of glass pieces clashing together feels like screams in his ears. He hurries to wrap up all the big pieces he got, and shoves them into the trash can.
Then he walks to the cabinet, looking for a container that’s not made of glass or ceramic, basically anything that’s not easily breakable, but frustratingly, expensive stuff is fragile as hell. He should have gotten a bag of those plastic cups from a convenience store. Eventually he found some Asian tea set that’s made of wood. He fills up the largest cup and brings it to the bedside.
“You need to drink some water. It’s good for you after…” He has to pause a little just to say it out loud, “after the drug.” The drug that I gave you.
Pacho glances at the water, clearly wants it, but still he doesn’t move.
“You didn’t think this through, did you?”
Amado sighs and puts the cup down. “Trust me, I have never put more thoughts into anything else.”
“Then stop this bullshit!” Pacho suddenly sits up straight and reaches up to grab him, but is held back by the handcuff. Amado sees Pacho wince a little as his wrist gets pulled back forcefully by the hard metal, but he swallows it down, biting out every word. “Get to the point. What do you want?”
“Alright, just stop! Please?” He takes a step away from the bed, trying to reason, but deep down, he knows it would be futile. “You’re only hurting yourself.”
“What do I need to do to get out of these, hmm?” Pacho gives him a cold smirk, his tone softened, but his eyes are filled with condescension. “Or do you just enjoy chaining me to your bed?”
Amado feels his blood turn cold, his heart skipping a beat with a sharp pain like he just got shot in the chest, and his naked body is dragged out for public display. He doesn’t know how his face betrayed him, but whatever emotions he’s showing, Pacho is clearly enjoying them with a twisted sense of satisfaction.
He avoids the other man’s piercing gaze, and quietly walks to the large wooden dresser across from the bed.
“I don’t enjoy chaining you to a bed, Pacho, not at all.” He pulls the top drawer open, agonizingly slow, not to intentionally create suspense, but he isn’t ready to face what’s inside himself.
“Fuck, I’ll hate myself if I had to do it.” As if he doesn’t already.
The drawer’s completely open, and inside lays a metal chain with perfect length, long enough to cover the entire bedroom, but several inches short to reach the door.
Amado grabs it and turns around, facing Pacho again from a distance. His hands are shaking. He hears the strain in his own voice as he opens his mouth.
“So please, don’t make me.”
Those few words somehow have knocked the air out of his lungs, draining all the energy that he has to lean back on the dresser to support himself, just to stand straight.
Pacho’s eyes grow wide in true shock, and once that’s passed, Amado finally sees everything he anticipated when Pacho first opened his eyes: rage, hurt and unmasked hatred. Yet the worst among them all is a sense of strangeness, like he’s standing right here but Pacho doesn’t even recognize him.
Like the years they’ve known each other have simply vanished.
He wants to look away immediately, to look at anything but that, but he can’t, not now. He absolutely can’t be the first person to back down, otherwise Pacho would never take this situation seriously.
“Look, every single person on this island works for me, alright? There’s no way out.” It’s true. Everyone here is loyal and capable. He made sure of that. “Don’t try anything stupid, and I will give you the key right now. You can do whatever you want, the island is yours.”
“But if you can’t do that…” He takes a deep breath, and holds the long, heavy chain closer to Pacho’s direction, so he doesn’t have to say it out loud. “It’s not a difficult decision to make, Pacho.”
*
The room falls into a state of complete stillness, and it is so unbearably long, that Amado actually starts to panic. What if Pacho doesn’t give in? Is he really going to…to chain him up like an animal? God, is he even able to actually do that? No, the mere thought makes him want to throw up, but what if he has to? What if Pacho sees him through and calls his bluff? What the fuck is he going to do?!
He doesn’t know how long it’s been, maybe ten minutes, or maybe just one, but he is on the verge of breaking when something finally changes in Pacho’s face. There’s still no words, barely a reaction, but the other man just looks away, breaking their eye contact first.
It doesn’t feel like a victory. There is some relief, but mostly just pain.
“It’s settled then.” He tries to remain a flat tone, and hurries to fish the key out of his pocket. If he stays in this room for one more second, he will lose it.
“Here, I’ll come back later and show you around the place.”
He tosses the key on the bed and walks out, quickly closing the door behind him, and then almost comes face to face with a guard.
Was this guy standing right outside?!
“Patrón!” The guard takes a few steps back, seemingly startled by him as well. “I’m sorry Patrón, I didn’t…”
Amado just waves him off and hands him the long chain. “Put it away somewhere else.”
The guard takes the chain off his hands and gives him a slightly confused look, maybe silently disagreeing with his decision. But eventually the guy just takes his order.
“Is there anything else that you need, Patrón?”
“When he’s in there, make sure there are two people outside of this bedroom at all times, but not right outside.” He emphasizes on that, making sure the guard understands. “And go tell them to prepare lunch.”
The guard nods and walks away. Amado also walks away from the bedroom to one of the adjacent living rooms. Honestly, this is his first day in this mansion as well, and he has no idea where everything is, but that’s the least of his worries now.
He slumps down on the couch, but doesn’t feel relaxed. He won’t be relaxed for a very long time.
@ashlingiswriting @yourlocalspacewitxch @mandaloria314 @narcolini @dashavau @cherixrosa @cheesybadgers @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @sikkui @alreadywritten @artemiseamoon @anunhealthydoseofangst @drabbles-mc
#narcos#narcos mexico#pacho herrera#amado carrillo fuentes#narcos fic#narcos mexico fic#amado x pacho
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Perfectly Available
Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Pacho Herrera
Warnings: 18+, language, implied smut
Word Count: 1.3k
A/N: I wrote this for my Yuletide assignment and completely forgot to cross-post it here! Enjoy! xo
Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa @il0vebeingdelulu (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)
There only should have been one thing on Amado’s mind in that moment. All the luxury and privacy that money could buy them, silk sheets wrinkled and ruined, clutched tightly in Pacho’s fists, duvet long since kicked to the far edge of the bed by Amado when they first got started. There was no world outside the four walls of the bedroom that they were in.
Or, that’s how it should have felt for Amado. His singular focus and every thought that went through his mind should have been about the man lying on the mattress beneath him. There were people who would’ve given just about anything to be in the position that Amado was in, after all—alone in a room with Pacho reducing him to a mess in the center of a king-size bed.
In his defense, that was how it felt for Amado the first few times. The disbelief hadn’t worn off yet, the pleasure still enough to blind him to everything else. It made him forget about all of it, the business, the mess it all entailed. It made him forget about Miguel, too, which had been the point of it all to begin with even if Amado would never admit to it out loud.
He couldn’t remember when it stopped working. He couldn’t recall how long it took for it to not be enough anymore, for Miguel to weasel back into his thoughts at the most inconvenient times, the way that he always seemed to do. Not that there was really a good time for that—there was never a good time to find himself wrapped up in thoughts and feelings for someone that would never truly be available to him in the way that he wanted. Pacho wasn’t really available to him in that way either, but that wasn’t Amado’s desired endgame with Pacho, not the way that it would have been with Miguel.
Pacho was available to Amado the exact amount that Amado needed from him. He was there, skin beneath the pads of Amado’s fingers, heat bleeding from one into the other, ragged breaths and moans drowning out any other noise. Pacho was perfectly available to Amado for exactly what he needed. Or rather, perfect was the right word for it when Pacho was still providing enough of a distraction. Maybe it wasn’t really Pacho’s fault, though.
Amado pried himself apart from Pacho, landing beside him on the bed as they each tried to catch their breaths. Amado’s eyes were shut, forearm draped across his forehead and covering most of his face as his chest rose and fell dramatically.
With his eyes closed he couldn’t see the smirk that was on Pacho’s face. He couldn’t see the way that the man turned his head to look over at him. Pacho had a slightly dazed, almost blissful look on his face. Not lovestruck, but extremely content nonetheless, even when he could see that despite everything Amado still had lingering tension in his body.
“What?” Pacho asked, his tone light, ends of his mouth still upturned.
“Hm?” Amado mumbled back, eyes remaining closed.
“What are you thinking?” He almost sounded like he was on the brink of laughter.
“Nothing.”
That response got a chuckle out of him. Amado didn’t open his eyes yet, but he could feel the way that Pacho was beginning to shift around on the bed. He pulled the thin sheet up to his waist and covered Amado in the process before leaning over to the nightstand, grabbing a cigarette and his lighter.
“You’re worse at lying when you’re like this,” Pacho said, the words slightly mumbled as he spoke them around the cigarette in his mouth.
Amado only opened his eyes and looked at the man beside him when he heard the clicking of the lighter. “Worse?”
Pacho didn’t answer until he had pulled a drag off his cigarette. “You were never that good to begin with,” he spoke with a smile, smoke creeping out in tendrils as he did, “but you’re worse when you’re like this.”
Amado scoffed, but the comment didn’t get to him. He was too tired to be offended and realistically Pacho was right and he didn’t want to get into an argument he was destined to lose. Instead, he reached over and took the cigarette rom Pacho and brought it to his own lips, hoping it would divert the entire conversation.
Pacho wasn’t distracted so easily. “So?”
Amado purposely didn’t look at him as he repeated the word back, doing his best to match Pacho’s tone. “So?”
Pacho smiled, tucking his hand behind his head as he studied Amado’s face. “What are you thinking?”
Amado took another drag before holding the cigarette back out to Pacho. He shook his head as the other man took it from him. He let out a sigh, releasing all the smoke at once in the process. “Doesn’t matter.”
Pacho let out a hum of amusement before he reached over and tapped the ash off the cigarette into the ashtray.
The sound got Amado’s attention, his eyes locked onto Pacho. “What’s that?”
Pacho looked as smug as he ever had. “What?”
“You know what.”
He took another drag from his cigarette, not that it kept him from laughing. “That was a better than a lie, at least.”
“Pfft,” Amado scoffed as he shook his head. He went back to staring at the ceiling as he listened to Pacho chuckling to himself. If it had been anyone else doing that, it would’ve been insulting at best, especially given the circumstances that the two of them were in. But there was something about Pacho that made it hard to get mad over things like that. He never made it feel malicious even when he was giving Amado a hard time.
“He doesn’t know,” Pacho said.
“What?”
“Miguel. He doesn’t know,” he repeated, shaking his head for emphasis before snubbing out his cigarette.
“About…” Amado trailed off, making the smallest gesture between them.
Pacho laughed. “He definitely doesn’t know about that.”
“Will you just say it?” Amado said, exasperated in regards to just about everything.
“You know,” Pacho responded simply.
“I don’t—”
Pacho cut him short as he got out of bed, beginning the task of find his clothes that were scattered across the room and redressing as he went. “I know. And I know it’s why we’re here. It’s why we do this.” He pulled on his underwear, then his slacks. “But he doesn’t know.”
Amado’s brows knit together for a moment. Despite the vague allusions, he knew exactly what Pacho was saying. He just didn’t know that Pacho was so aware of it all. Amado never said anything about it, tried to make a point to never have to bring any of it up.
“How did you—”
“You’re a bad liar, Amado,” Pacho repeated with a smile as he slipped his shirt on over his shoulders and began to fasten the buttons.
That got a weak smile out of Amado. “Hm.”
“I don’t know how much it would matter if he did, though,” Pacho tacked on, backtracking to his earlier statement.
The small smile immediately dropped from Amado’s face as he repeated himself. “Hm.” He paused, taking a moment to really look at Pacho. “I…”
Pacho hadn’t really thought that Amado was one for guilt, but for a moment that’s exactly what he saw crossing the man’s face. For some reason that was just as amusing as the rest of it. Guilt didn’t suit Amado the same way that Pacho wasn’t suited for placating, and Pacho never did things that didn’t suit him.
Rather than feed into the guilt that Amado was feeling, Pacho simply leaned over, left a fleeting touch across Amado’s shoulder and said, “Until next time?”
Amado looked at him, the smirk playing at Pacho’s lips something that would be burned into his brain in its own rite. He nodded. “Next time.”
Neither of them said anything more as Amado watched Pacho put on his shoes and grab his jacket before heading out the door. Once the door clicked shut behind him, Amado fell flat on his back on the mattress again, staring up at the ceiling. Once a few seconds of silence passed, he let out one quiet chuckle, smiling and shaking his head at himself more than anything else.
#narcos#narcos netflix#narcos fanfiction#narcos netflix fanfiction#amado carrillo fuentes#pacho herrera#amado carrillo fuentes x pacho herrera#pacho herrera x amado carrillo fuentes#pacho herrera fanfiction#amado carrillo fuentes fanfiction#my writing#fanfiction#drabblesmc
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narcos fandom smut alphabet - finished!
you know what goes really well with summer sunshine and narcos tv rewatches? SMUTTY FIC!
(they put that bisexual lighting on Isabella for a reason, after all!)
this was our first month of prompts over at @narcosfandomdiscord! for every letter of the alphabet, we had two smutty prompts that fanfic writers used for inspiration. 🥰 our group ambition was to create at least one fic per letter—26 new narcos smut fics during the month of July—and we totally smashed it, in large part thanks to prolific work from @salt-is-a-terrible-currency. happy reading!
if you prefer reading on ao3, check out our collection. all fics tagged as #nffalphabet on tumblr. and it's just that simple 🥰
if you have any questions, you can message us on tumblr or join our narcos fandom discord here!
🍰 Prompt List & Fic Masterlist 🍰
July 1 — A — angry sex, anal
Right For Once by @drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, angry sex, 2.3k
Infuriating by @salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, angry sex, 1.5k
Our Man In Mexico by @hausofmamadas — Horacio Carrillo x Andrea Nuñez, angry sex, 2.5k
July 2 — B — blood, bound & begging
Final Warning by @purplesong1028 — Amado x Pacho, bound & begging, 490
Please (with your finger) by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, bound & begging, 1.2k
blood on vacation by @ashlingnarcos — David Barrón x f!Reader, blood, 1.8k
July 3 — C — cuffs, choking
If I go too far by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, choking, 737
mentirosos by @narcolini — Kitty Paez x gn!Reader, cuffs, 1.1k
July 4 — D — domesticity, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us.”
Taking Care by drabbles-mc — Diego Ramirez (Narcos OC) x F!Reader, domesticity, 2.1k
Lipstick's smudged by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, domesticity and “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 447
A Few Moments by @purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix/Pacho Herrera, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 482
July 5 — E — edging, eldritch
The first time I felt a ghost by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, eldritch, 716
July 6 — F — fight or fuck?, friends with benefits
No relationship talk by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, friends with benefits, 422
Unbroken Rules by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, friends with benefits, 2.9k
July 7 — G — gag/gagging, gun play
Paper-thin walls by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, gag/gagging, 361
Whatever He Wants by purplesong1028 — Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Miguel Félix, gun play, 416
July 8 — H — honor bondage, hatesex
Dress blues by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, honor bondage, 1.8k
THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US by hausofmamadas — Enedina Arellano x David Barrón, honor bondage, 2k
July 9 — I — infidelity, in public
Never meet your heroes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, in public, 955
Don't Mention It by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, infidelity and in public, 2.7k
No Strong Suit by purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix x Pacho Herrera, infidelity, 439
July 10 — J — jealousy, "just shut up already"
Unprofessional by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, jealousy, 4.3k
A bad idea by @artemiseamoon — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 2.3k
The ring by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 1.1k
July 11 — K — knotting, knocked up
Which time? by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, knocked up, 418
Secrets in the night by artemiseamoon — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 3.5k
Someday When It's Over by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 2.8k
July 12 — L — luxury, lingerie
Eres guapa by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, lingerie, 544
Desire by artemiseamoon — Enedina Arellano x Original Female Character, lingerie and luxury, 3.9k
Round-trip Ticket by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, lingerie, 7.7k
July 13 — M — mirrors, "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"
Another brick in the wall by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, make me forget, 812
Favors Owed by drabbles-mc — Maria Elvira x gn!Reader, make me forget, 2.7k
Like Old Times by artemiseamoon — Judy Moncada x Original Female Character, mirrors, 1.4k
July 14 — N — nipple play, "no one does it like you"
No One Like You by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, no one does it like you, 2k
Sore by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, nipple play, 580
July 15 — O — on all fours, one night stand
Cascade by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, one night stand, 580
July 16 — P — praise kink, pulling hair
Dress blues, pt 2 by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, praise kink, 404
July 17 — Q — quiet (or trying to be), quickie
Sweet, sharp, addictive by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, quiet (or trying to be) and quickie, 464
July 18 — R — role reversal, ruined
Bad Guy Treatment by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, role reversal, 3.8k
What is she to him by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, ruined, 444
July 19 — S — submit, "say my name"
Stoke the flames by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, submit, 387
July 20 — T — trapped together, tied up
On company time by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, trapped together, 574
July 21 — U — upper hand, underwater
The Weight of It All by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x Sal Orozco, underwater, 2k
he keeps his rules. you keep him. by ashlingnarcos — Horacio Carrillo x gn!Reader, upper hand, 1.1k
Polkadots by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, underwater, 359
July 22 — V — virginity (loss or roleplay), video
Off the Backburner by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, virginity, 4.1k
In this moment of pretend by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, virginity roleplay, 435
July 23 — W — "we probably shouldn't do this", worship
Stay A Little Longer by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 1.5k
Lunch break daydream by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 497
July 24 — X — exhibitionism, exes having sex
It's complicated by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Helena, exes having sex, 971
Not Yours Anymore by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, exes having sex, 3.2k
no witness by ashlingnarcos — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, exes having sex, 2.4k
July 25 — Y — yearning, "you look good like this"
Superman (4) by @garbinge — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "you look good like this", 5k
Lost Time by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, yearning, 2.9k
If he closes his eyes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, yearning, 442
July 26 — Z — zipper, zeal
Things Like That by drabbles-mc — Danilo Garza x f!Reader, zipper, 2k
Zealot by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Pe��a x f!Reader and Nathan "Cable" Summers from Deadpool x f!Reader, zeal, 4k
(note: we hit the link limit on this post so from now on, links will be to fics + to authors on their first appearance.)
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el paraiso de las pandillas.
Pairings: Pacho Herrera(Narcos : TV Series)x f!reader
Warnings: No Warnings, Just a Family Drama
Synopsis: Y/N meet the man whom you save his life two months ago, only to find out that he is the godfather of Colombia and he knows all the secrets you've been trying to keep hidden for two years.
AN: I was greatly inspired by The Sopranos series (about the Moltisanti family). I hope you'll like it. // And the bad news is, I may have to postpone updating the new episode of el paraiso de las pandillas for a while because I still don't know what to write next. But I have a plan to translate my other fic (Amado x Reader) soon. I hope you'll wait for me. luvvvv u <3
Previous : Next (Soon)
Part Two :
That man left in the morning when the sun rose. What was left in front was a mess of blood that made you spend a long time cleaning. And beyond that was a deep-seated suspicion that was difficult to eliminate.
Everywhere in Colombia, which used to be beautiful and charming in the midst of bright sunlight, whether it was the clear blue sea, various coffee shops, markets, churches, it turned out to be hidden in darkness that cannot be seen. Anything could happen, Anything like gunshots and strange men who come with blood all over their bodies.
You did not inform the police about what had happened, not just because you wanted to keep the words you had said before, but because of your own anxiety. If you spoke up, that man and his gun might come back to deal with you at any time. You knew very well since you met that he could easily kill you without you realizing it, and the only reason you were still alive was because he chose to spare your life.
It was as if everything in life was beyond control, as if there was nothing you could do anymore. You did not want to encounter such a crazy situation again, especially with that man. Meeting him once was more than enough.
You desperately wanted your life to be normal again without even realizing that it was just the beginning of a nightmare.
"Wow, what a strong wind! Did it blow this Chica here?"
a playful remark made by a bartender at a local nightclub called "Copa Cabana" which always happens on any night you choose to go out for a drink outside.
You didn't respond anything except for raising your middle finger before sitting down on the wooden bar stool next to the third bar seat, your regular spot. Before you could even order, the bartender behind the wooden bar had already placed a glass of whiskey with ice cubes in front of you.
"Whiskey on the Rock" Manny spoke warmly to the American customers who came here often until they became friends. "You've been missing for a while , stuck with work at the school or something?"
Two months, you thought, Two months since that night when you had to sit and pick bullets out of a stranger's man who was shot.You took a long breath before downing the whiskey in one shot, the bitter taste burning your throat slightly. You raised the glass for a refill, and Manny laughed before filling it up immediately. "You don't have to drink that fast. You'll get drunk quickly. Take it easy," he added.
You ignored his warning because your desire tonight was to drink until you were drunk as quickly as possible, then stumble back home to sleep without having to worry about anyone else showing up to ask for help. "If I can't make it, will you carry me back?"
Manny grinned with a smile before picking up a nearby empty glass and wiping it clean with a napkin. "If I didn't know you before, I would think you were hitting on me," he joked.
He played it off, but you didn't feel like laughing with him. You are still thinking about what happened two months ago. Doing good deeds will always bring good rewards; that's what your mother always taught you when you were still a child. However, you weren't sure if the decision to do good that night would bring you any good rewards in return.
You were lost in your own thoughts and didn't notice the changing atmosphere in the nightclub. until you noticed that many people's eyes were turned towards the same direction, including Manny, who muttered to himself, "Oh no," before looking at you as if to warn you–not to turn around.
But curiosity got the best of you, and you couldn't resist glancing back at the newcomer. At that moment, you feel a deep sadness that you didn't believe Manny at first.
A group of at least five big men were standing by the door, all armed with guns holstered on their hips. But the most striking one was the handsome young man in the middle, with a strong and confident demeanor, dressed in a smooth and well-fitted black leather jacket. His intense gaze swept through the club, scrutinizing everyone, before locking onto you and revealing a look of surprise when he saw you.
You quickly turned away from his gaze, even though you knew you had already caught his attention.
You would never forget his face, just as he would never forget yours, especially since he was the same person you saved two months ago.
Manny noticed everything, but he was a good employee who was smart enough to know when to speak and when to remain silent. Everything around you seemed to be quiet and tense, so quiet that you could hear footsteps behind you, followed by the smell of expensive cologne and the sharp scent of cigarettes when another person moved to sit in the chair next to you. You pursed your lips and drank your whisky until your glass was empty, allowing the alcohol to flow into your bloodstream before turning to face this man.
His deep brown eyes looked at you without blinking, his perfectly trimmed beard under his thin lips just barely lifting into a small smile when he greeted you, making it seem as if he knew you well.
"We haven't seen each other in a while."
You glanced at Manny, noticing him bowing his head and lowering his eyes. Although you were a foreigner who had not been here long, you were smart enough to guess that everyone knew and feared this man.
"I didn't expect to see you again." You crafted a friendly smile for the person next to you. "What brings you here?"
"Just taking care of some personal business that was delayed two months ago," he said casually, as if talking about unimportant things in life. But for you, who might know the details of what happened two months ago, it wouldn't be difficult to guess why he appeared here and why there were a few drops of blood on his shoes and pants.
It's better not to doubt. You carefully avert your gaze before pretending to drink your own whisky. The dull colors start to flush on the side of your cheek in proportion to the strong alcohol in your body.
"Oh, I haven't introduced myself yet." The man said it politely, extending his hand to you. "Pacho Herrera."
Pacho Herrera That was the name he told you that day. And if you could choose, you wouldn't want to know this man at all.
"Y/N"
You grasp his hand, the strong pressure of Pacho's hand adding to the effect of the whisky you had just consumed, making your pulse slightly higher than before. You quickly released his hand, as it felt hot to the touch. It seemed rude, but Pacho didn't hold it against you. He turned to the bartender behind the counter and ordered what he wanted.
"I'll have a Daiquiri for me and whatever Monada wants."
The cash thrown on the table was enough to buy all kinds of liquor sold in the nightclub, and the glasses were filled with whiskey almost immediately after Pacho ordered, followed by the Daiquiri placed next to it. He grabbed his own glass and raised it to you, sending a small smile that blended charm and danger.
You wanted to get up and leave this place too much, but the only thing you could do right now was to pick up the glass of whisky and clink it with his before taking another sip while realizing in fear that you had no way of going home anytime soon.
✧◈ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◈✧
When the morning sunlight shines into the eyes, it slowly wakes up a sleeping girl amidst a throbbing headache from hangover. You try to stay calm and take a deep breath until you realize that the place you're in right now is not your own home, but somewhere unfamiliar to you.
The spacious bedroom is covered in soft, light-colored silk sheets, and the room is illuminated by white and gold-dotted curtains from floor to ceiling. When you decide to step outside, everything is more extravagant than before. You walk slowly, confused, and dazed by the remnants of the drunken stupor that lingers in your head.
What crazy thing happened last night?
Suddenly, you hear someone talking loudly from ahead. You choose to quietly follow the sound until you reach a room that looks like a large kitchen. You are startled to see several armed men standing guard. They all turn to look at you with stern eyes, except for one man who is sitting drinking black coffee and reading the news comfortably in a white bathrobe.
It's Pacho Herrera, the man you met at the nightclub last night.
Memories are starting to come back a little bit. You only remember drinking with him last night, but the rest was empty, like a blank piece of paper without any letters. Pacho raised his eyebrows as if he knew that you were staring at him. A slight smile appeared on his face before he gestured to the chair opposite him.
"Come sit here. I think you might be hungry, so I had someone make breakfast for us."
You still stood there, refusing to follow his invitation. "What happened last night?" you asked.
"You really can't remember anything? That's too bad" Pacho took another sip of coffee before continuing, "It's not a big deal. You were very drunk last night, so I took you to my home. Then we had sex, that's all."
The answer you heard made your body stiffen. Your pale face became even paler than before, and Pacho chuckled lightly at the shock written all over your face. "I'm kidding. But are you going to keep standing there? Have a seat."
Pacho's demeanor changed as he placed his hands under his chin and stared straight at you with eyes that seemed to be peering into your soul. as if he could see every dark secret of yours with just one glance. You were silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and finally walking over to sit across from him, trying not to show any signs of being startled for him to see.
When Pacho waved his hand, everyone in the room left, leaving only you and him alone. He slid a plate of sandwiches and hot coffee towards you, but you didn't want to touch it. The increasing pressure was getting to you, making you lose your appetite.
"Do you know I also have a business in New York? So, I get to hear a lot of news from that side as well. And when you told me that you were American, it reminded me of some news I had heard before," he said.
It didn't sound like good news at all, and you could feel it in your gut from the moment you laid eyes on him.
"Do you familiar with the Moltisanti family? They're an Italian mafia that holds power in New York. We had the opportunity to do business together often. It seems like they're looking for a certain woman. She is the daughter of Christopher, the big boss of the Moltisanti family, who disappeared two years ago. And you've been here in Colombia for two years now. What a coincidence, don't you think?"
Your anxiety came rushing back. You realized that you weren't prepared enough for this situation, you just didn't think it would happen so soon.
"You're right. I am the missing daughter," you said, clenching your trembling hands tightly and looking up resolutely. "But I am just an illegitimate daughter who is insignificant. Everything about Moltisanti has nothing to do with me. I suggest that you and your 'Los Caballeros de Cali' should not take any interest in me."
Gentlemen of Cali is one of the nicknames for the Cali Cartel, the criminal group of godfathers in Colombia, who produce and export cocaine almost worldwide. Consisting of four main founders: Gilberto Rodríguez, Miguel Rodríguez,José Santacruz and the last person is sitting right in front of you, Pacho, who is the most notorious in terms of cruelty, intelligence, and charm, making him the main face and brain of the gang.
He is not the only one who is determined to investigate your history after meeting you that night. You are also determined to investigate his history.
"We don't have any problems with the Moltisanti, at least not right now," Pacho move forward, creating an uncomfortably close proximity with clear intention to press on. "I just have a question. Will you not be a problem for us in the future?"
Pacho wanted to see a hint of fear or unease in your eyes, like anyone else would when caught with a secret they didn't want to reveal. But what he received in return was a cold, intimidating gaze.
"You may have forgotten that two months ago, I saved your life. Without me, you wouldn't be sitting here," your voice was harsher than usual and you didn't look away even for a second. "You promised me that you won't do anything to me, and you won't let anyone else do anything to me. I hope a gentleman from Columbia like you will keep his promise for life."
Your words made Pacho pause for a moment before his old smile slowly returned, now with a hint of surprise and satisfaction.
"I really like you a lot, Chingona." That's not a fake or deceitful word to please you, and it's uncommon for someone like Pacho to be so straightforward with others. At a moment when his complex emotions were projected through the dark tint of his eyes, he looked at you and said, "Maybe I can help you escape from your family drama."
You paused and furrowed your brows slightly "You already know?"
"It's not hard to guess. Christopher is seriously ill, and right now Tommy, your older brother, is taking over as the head of the gang. I guess he doesn't like having a young sister around much, and Colombia is a good place to hide from the influence of American mafia. Am I right?"
There was something in his brown eyes that you didn't like at all. It was a very gentle emotion, almost sympathy or empathy. "Well, That's close, but not entirely" you slowed down, seeing no benefit in concealing anything from this man.
"If you were mine, you wouldn't have to worry about the Moltisanti family interfering with you again."
"Are you saying you want me to be your whore?"
Pacho shrugged nonchalantly. "I haven't really thought about that, but it's okay if you want to be." Pacho laughed again, not sure how many times the woman in front of him had made him laugh today. "Speaking bluntly, I'm quite impressed with many things about you. Plus, our main market is already in America. It would be great if we had some beautiful Americans helping us out. I can send you back home and guarantee your safety. What do you think?"
"I remember you said that you didn't like gringos."
"And I also remember that I make an exception for you."
This is not like a negotiation proposal at all, but more like a heated argument between two people who know each other well. Although you two only met twice.
"Thank you for the offer, but I still insist that it's best for both of us to stay apart." You took a deep breath and let out a small smile before picking up your cold coffee cup and taking a sip. The bitter taste at least helped to sober you up a little. You stood up to your full height and reached out to him. "I hope we can put this behind us."
Pacho didn't immediately take your hand. He just looks at you with an unreadable eyes before standing up as well and finally accepting your hand in the end. "I'll walk you out," he said.
"In this outfit?" You looked at the bathrobe on his body with a strange face, but Pacho didn't answer. He arranged his hand on your back before pushing you forward at a steady pace, not too slow and not too fast. Passing through the shady garden with blooming flowers and a large pond decorated with strange animal sculptures until you reached the menacing-looking bodyguards who eyed the two of you without blinking.
When you arrived at the imposing gate of the house, he kissed you lightly on the cheek and said, "See you later."
There's absolutely no way. You're thinking but not speaking. You just smile politely at him before hurrying out of here without looking back even once. despite feeling his sharp gaze following you until it's out of sight.
At that moment, you didn't think much about it, except feeling a great sense of relief that you had escaped from that crazy situation. But if you ponder a little bit about his last sentence, you might need to be more cautious
Because no one can avoid the godfather. That's the truth that you'll deeply understand later.
#narcos: mexico#narcos#pacho herrera x reader#pacho herrera#narcos x reader#alberto ammann#narcos netflix#pacho x female reader#el paraiso de las pandillas
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Preview: Sin pt 4
Miguel x f reader | bi! Pacho x f reader | ft (briefly) Cali Cartel *
Words: 6,297
I no longer write reader inserts, so consider this one of my last ever. 💕
Fic info /chapter key/ warnings (disclaimers there as well)
An: when I refer to Miguel ex wife it’s not Maria. Maria is a queen and i hate omitting her but I can’t do her dirty. I love her. Let’s imagine she is somewhere living her best life. This wife is someone else.
Warnings: overall canon show and content ones, sex, drinking, adultery.
📣Shout out to @thesolotomyhan, since it’s been so long, I needed to hype myself up by rereading some of her sexy head canons. It helped me weave my scattered notes for this chapter into place.
😤To those ppl who like to harass writers who use their imagination and pair Pacho with a women just out of pure imagination and make believe - if any of you are reading, leave me alone. There is zero reason to write me. Yes he is bi in my *make believe* fiction - I am no longer explaining myself after this. - signing off, a bisexual queer writer who uses her damn imagination.
Below is a preview ~ read on a03
Flashback - A few weeks ago
It was dark out when the plane landed. Everyone was exhausted and there was very little conversation. You couldn’t wait to get home and sleep in your own bed, to get away from all this tension for a little while. Miguel felt like a volcano about to burst and for the last couple of hours, you’ve had this bad feeling stirring in your gut, like something terrible was about to happen.
Amado was first to leave, you said your goodbyes and watched him drive off. After the car vanished in the distance, you turned to Miguel, Azul was up ahead waiting for him, and from the look on his face, you knew he had some bad news.
“I’m going to head home. I’ll see you later.” As you said, studying Miguels eyes.
He was distracted, understandably so. Miguel nodded with tense brows.
"Goodnight Miguel.” You gently touched his shoulder, then walked to your driver.
On the way over, you took a deep breath. Though Miguel's whole plan went to shit, you’re thankful he'll be occupied. The last thing on his mind won't be what you were up to. Maybe you can keep your Pacho secret a little longer.
.
Now, Saturday
Champagne flows freely as the guests fill the room with conversation, laughter, and general revelry. The overall vibe is upbeat and from the outside, this would look like just any rich person's party.
It was parties just like this that reunited you and Miguel all those years ago. It takes you back to that first night you kissed on the balcony, when he was a better version of himself, not yet tainted by all of this.
Before, Miguel was an old schoolmate turned bodyguard who stole your heart. Now, here you are, on his arm at a fancy political Gala. The last time he invited you to one of these as his date you told him to fuck off. You weren’t speaking to him, and in true Miguel fashion, he showed up at your door anyway.
"I told you to stay away from me. Leave me alone, Miguel!" You started to close the door.
He stopped it, "from you, yes. Not this town, not this street." He said with that air of smug confidence of his.
Now, here you are, sitting beside him at the round table with a black cloth draped across it. Gold accents on the glasses and decorations, and one of the richest meals you've ever had in your stomach.
You’re not sure why you said yes to this one, maybe it's that little part of you that feels guilty about Pacho, or the even smaller part that still wants to hold on to a piece of Miguel.
You haven’t spent a lot of time with him in the last week due to a mix of avoidance and fearing he’ll look into your eyes long enough to know your secret. Then there's the other part of you, that third part that wants him to find out. It wants to see the look in his eyes once he knows you’ve been fucking the man he hates…
Keep reading here on A03
More Narcos
No taglist. I hope to wrap this one up very soon. Subscribe to the fic on A03! Check back here and on @artemiseamoon-updates
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Watching, well rewatching Narcos Mx is too much at this point. I’m pulled in too many directions.
Today’s goal is my Amado x ofc oneshot (it’s been in my drafts for a year, fixing it up and competing it) it features Acosta
Me watching:
👀Ohhh that’s some good Miguel inspo (Sin fic)
👀 Pacho I cannot be distracted by you right now dammit! I have too much to do! Stop.
👀Oh my, I hate you but love you Calderoni (my Calderoni fic which heavily features the smash & grab crew ) also why was he going so hard in S1:E4 😂 damn *
👀Ohhh look my sweet Benjamin, one day I gotta expand that drabble
👀Oh sad boi Walt Breslin, one day I’ll pull one of your drafts out and finish it too PLUS I’m sorry what I’ll put you through next chapter of After this is over (Calderoni fic) *
👀Ohhhh my queen my wife Maria, I love you, I didn’t forget about my idea for you and hope to do it one day
👀 poison when he appears in 1.5 🤤🤤🤤🤤 AND the classic scene in 1.6 😍
👀Ohhhh Rafa you chaotic romantic, one day I’ll pull that drabble out of my drafts and finish it (him and Chapo at the pool in 1.5 😂, he’s so sappy, the third time, that’s so specific 😂)
Plus one day I’d still love to do something focused on the Cali Cartel AND can we talk about how goooood Pacho and Chepe look in 1.5???? Plus the way Chepe looks at Isabella 😍 AND the smirk she gave him??? I also wish we saw more of Chepe and Pacho’s friendship. AND her that outfit she was wearing when they were taken??? 🔥🔥🔥
I’m only revisiting season one and two this weekend, but I still do wish Walt narrated S3.
Also, I just want to hug Mika and check up on her. Has anyone written any Mika Fics? I haven’t seen any. I just want her to be happy and supported.
Okay, almost done, toward the middle of 1.5, that Miguel and Pablo encounter 👀 still gives me chills. His whole vibe there brings me back to Loud Silence, my first ever narcos based fic.
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GIF DUMPS
✸ PLASTIC GANGSTER | Anatoly Givenchy Romanov
✸ PRIMOGENITAL | the wisdom of Fredward Horniman
✸ SE LA ARRANCA A MORDIDAS | mystery of Amado’s anonymous lady-hustlers, solved
✸ TO THE SMASH N GRAB CREW | RIP to the homies and this Cece x Kenny meet cute
✸ NUGGETS OF BENJAMAYO | aka just a gif dump of my madness about 1 measly scene
✸ NO MAMES KITTEEEE | Bc here we stan a side character with moxie y moda tan shingona
✸ PACHO Y MIGUEL | An enemies to lovers hatestory for the ages
✸ RAÍCES DE DINARRON | Eso es mi pinshe espososa … get your own, cabrón
✸ ES EL PUTO FUTURO | Rafa y Neto’s fresh take on hit holiday classic White Christmas
✸ DINARRON | Or should I say Dinarellaron …
✸ DINARRON | When you and bae spend so much time together, you accidentally wear the same dress to prom
✸ COMO UVAS | The sweet adventures of Dina y Chabelita
✸ ESSENCE OF MON | Twere our sweet bb angel harvested, ground into powder & refined into an essential oil, it’d be this
✸ DINA Y MAYO | the L o v e i didn’t even know i wanted but that most definitely should’ve been a thing
Pt 1
Pt 2
✸ Se llama CRACK | Ramon Arellano Felix x Crack homage
Pt 1
Pt 2
✸ LA TIERRA IS A VAMPIRE (?) | We gather here today to honor not!Vampire, pobrecito playboy, Carlos “Charlie” Calles
✸ MAD!Mín | An ode to everyone's favorite grumpy cartel boss
✸ OUR LADY OF SINALOA | The People's Wife, María Elvira
✸ MIGUEL Y MIN SERIES
Pt 1 - Tengo cuarenta anos & Pt 2 - Schmoozing
Pt 3 - Un regalo extravagante
Pt 4 - The Approach
Pt 5 - The Confrontation
Pt 6 - The Dismissal & Pt 7 - The Resignation
Pt 8 - The Warning aka la profecía de los dos brujas
✸ ISACHEPE | The spinoff
✸ CUANDO SE SENTÍA UN ATRACO | Narcos Mexico’s early days
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To Be Alone With You
A rare Narcos fic for the Pacho/Amado pairing!
https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/87666922
Pacho loves life. He loves beautiful things; pretty boys, sunshine, luxurious digs.
Pacho is fun. He loves colourful cocktails, dancing, amusing stories, warm bodies.
Pacho loves to be respected and the feel of silk on his skin. If you kiss his pulse point just right, he shivers against you and makes a low, pleased sound deep in his throat as he draws you closer.
Amado wants him with a desperation he finds frightening.
#do let me know what you think#Amado X Pacho#Pacho X Amado#OBVIOUSLY based on the fictionalised characters#not the real life narcos#narcos fanfiction#narcos: mexico
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in the business
amado x pacho sister!reader, 2044 words, very very mild spice
request: Pacho has a little sister and she’s been sneaking around with Amado for a while, until Pacho finally finds out, from @purplesong1028
a/n: usual note about characters not real people <3
Your head hurts, no, your brain. It aches, swells, beats at your skull like a caged animal. You hadn’t even drank that much, really. It’ll just be from the late night, or early morning, rather. You hadn’t gotten back until, well, you check the clock, half an hour ago. Eight in the morning. You could have had more of a lie in, enjoyed the queen sized bed you’d ended up in, but you wanted to at least pretend you’d been home for some portion of the night. You’d got in, wiped the smell of booze and aftershave from your skin, slipped into your bed clothes and planted yourself in the kitchen.
It was a good plan. Was, being the key word, because now it had failed.
The second you begin to make yourself a coffee, you hear him. Always the voice before the footsteps. How a man like that manages to shuffle about unnoticed, is beyond you.
‘You made it home, then,’ he says, from close enough behind you to smell his deodorant. Though, it’s so generously applied, you could probably smell him across a soccer pitch.
‘Doesn’t your shift start after my brother wakes up, Navegente?’
You glance over your shoulder, catching him shrug. He’s probably been up and stalking the house since dawn.
‘I saw you, you know,’ he says.
You ignore him. Coffee in the cup, cream, sugar. He continues.
‘Getting out of his car.’
‘Would you like a prize?’ You turn and step around him. ‘It’s your job to keep watch, tonto.’
You know he’s smirking, because of course he is. You don’t do him the grace of looking. ‘Thought I would warn you,’ he says, ‘it might not be me who see’s you next time.’
Except it’s always him, because he’s always fucking there.
——
The first few times you’d seen Amado, it had been fun without consequences. Sneaking about with the Lord of the Skies, with your brother’s business partner, it was enough to make you feel like a teenager again. Irresponsible. Free. He wasn’t often in Colombia, so it made it easier to overlook the complications. Like stopping at a bar for a drink, like placing bets on a horse, it didn’t matter once you’d left again. Or rather, once he had left. The vices couldn’t follow you home if they flew back to Mexico every time.
But then, he’d started to get worried about it, whiny, really. This time, you hadn’t even made it out of the club before he’d mentioned Pacho’s name.
‘You aren’t going to tell him?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t decided.’ You’d settled into his lap, grateful for the privacy of the booth, and brushed his hair back to consider his face. Older than yours, but handsome despite, and because of— you liked the experience that sat in his features, the knowledge in his eyes. Even when he was asking stupid questions. ’I need to work out if you’re worth keeping first,’ you’d told him. ‘No need to start a family argument over something that might be temporary.’
‘That’s what you’re doing?’ He laughed once. ‘What? Is this an experiment or something, mija?’
You’d hummed a yes, curling the sound up with a smile. ‘So, you better make this worthwhile, Amado. You’ve been gone a long time.’
His brows went up, surprised, but not discouraged. ‘You think I should thank you for waiting?’
You considered nodding, but then shook your head, no, at the last moment. ‘You should be grateful I did.’ There were plenty of others you could have passed your time with, he knew that.
‘Stay with me, then. Tonight.’ His hands slid up your spine. ‘I have a hotel, a nice one.’
‘Room for two?’ You’d asked, knowing the answer, knowing your choice already.
He smiled, his voice as intoxicating as liquor, ‘Para una reina, of course.’
——
You’d fallen asleep on one of the benches by the pool. When you woke up, your cheek was so warm from the sun it could’ve been burnt, but all that had really happened, was your headache had gotten worse.
Now, you’re back in the kitchen nursing the only fruit you can find, hoping the fresh orange could somehow revive you. It would be easier if you used the family merchandise. One line would have you awake and clear from the lingering effects of your night with Amado, but you won’t touch the stuff. You took Pacho’s word for gospel, that it isn’t worth wasting ‘that pretty nose your mother gave you’. He had met your mother, you hadn’t, so you had no choice but to believe him. You’d both been given your stark honesty from the parent you did share, after all.
There’s no greeting when Pacho finally emerges and joins you in the breakfast space. One moment you’re alone, the next, he’s there, talking over your head while he goes about his usual routine. If you weren’t upright and chewing, you might’ve guessed you’d drifted off again.
‘You didn’t come home last night,’ he comments, passing behind you to reach the coffee machine. He isn’t dressed but wrapped in a robe, plush white, soft like a housewife’s. It’s past noon now. He’s hardly the image of sanctity himself.
‘Who’s keeping track?’ You answer and drop your head back over the chair, putting him upside-down as if he’s standing on the ceiling. ‘You didn’t have an early night either.’
‘I was working.’
Your head spins, so you return to looking at the sliced orange in front of you. The segment you're holding leaks juice into your palm and down your wrist. You watch it bead against the skin. ‘And I had plans,’ you say. Plans that had begun the moment Amado’s work had finished, the second he was available and away from meetings at last. ‘You may be older, hermano, but you aren’t Dad.’
He says nothing, but you can guess that he’s clenching his jaw, tilting his head, and thinking, yeah, lucky for you, I’m not.
‘You don’t have to watch me,’ you tell him.
‘I try not to.’ He brings himself to the table, coffee cup and saucer held before him. When he sets them down, your stomach drops. Now is where the real interrogation begins; this is a court room, that’s his gavel, and you are, unbeknownst to him, guilty as fucking charged. ‘Navegente says you sent Raúl away. That you insisted he didn’t wait for you.’ He doesn’t look at you. Instead, he leans back in his seat, puts one leg over the other, and fusses with the tie of his robe until its laid flat on his knee. He’s taking his time on purpose. ‘Why?’ he asks.
‘What?’ You laugh. ‘You only just wake up and already you’re questioning me?’
He waits. You’re forced to answer just to kill the silence.
‘I didn’t need him.’ You put the orange piece into your mouth and talk around it. ‘It was safe enough.’
‘Safe enough,’ he repeats, tutting afterward. ‘Raúl is there for a reason, hermanita.’
‘Well,’ you allow yourself a smirk, ‘do you invite Navegente to accompany you on dates?’
He squints slightly, assessing the lie, you imagine. ‘A date?’
‘Mhm. Am I supposed to ask for permission first?’
A pause. ‘That depends on your taste in men.’
——
‘He’ll kill us.’
You’d made it back to Amado’s hotel, and he was still talking about it. Still fucking agonising over it. Even when you tugged at his shirt, button by button, even when you put his hands where they should have been already: fingers spread, palms to your ass.
‘No, he’ll kill me,’ he corrected.
‘He won’t,’ you stressed, reminding him again that it didn’t matter, wouldn’t matter, because Pacho didn’t know. ‘If it bothers you that much, I won’t even tell him I’m dating someone.’
'C’mon,’ he sighed, and attempted to sound soft despite the command, ‘get serious, eh? You think he won’t work it out? Doesn’t notice you sneaking around every time I’m in Cali, amor?’
‘Are you really that much of a coward, Amado? Why do you care so much?’
‘Para mi negocio,’ he shrugged, ‘I have to—‘
You’d rolled your eyes and pulled away before he could finish. Your hand had lingered long enough on his throat to make him reconsider the argument—you saw it on his face—but then he took your elbows and dipped his gaze to meet yours. Not in the sexy, passionate way, but in the patronising manner you hated from him. The croon of his voice just pissed you off. He only adopted it when he wanted to convince you of something, when you were meant to see him as the smarter person and comply.
‘The more we see each other, mija, the worse it gets.’
Kill me, he’d said, cut me off, he’d meant. If Pacho found out, Amado could have to kiss his supply chain goodbye.
‘You know, maybe you should tell him,’ you’d said, half-joking, ‘he’s your friend, no?’
The scoff had flown out of him. ‘Wey, I mean that little to you?’ He laughed, smile ghosting his lips as he spoke, ‘Buenos socios, sí, but good business doesn’t usually include sleeping with the sister.’
You’d walked your fingers up his chest. ‘Do I need to remind you,’ you drawled, ‘who asked who?’
——
Pacho’s nostrils flare. He taps a finger to the table, one, two, the sound sharp and irritating despite the smooth finish of his nail, three.
‘Qué quieres, Pachito?’ You peel another segment from the orange skin and feign a sigh. ‘Dime ya, hm? I’m tired.’
‘You don’t hide things, hermana.’
‘No,’ you agree, ‘I have no reason to.’
You see his chin drop in your peripheral. He’s back to looking at the end of his robe-belt, picking at the thread like it interests him. He pouts, lifts his shoulders slightly, sucks a tut through his teeth like he’s disappointed. ‘I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself.’
You pause, then force yourself to finish the mouthful. The orange sours in your throat.
‘Navegente is less secretive than you,’ he continues. When he laughs, it forces a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks. ‘Amado?’ he says. ‘Really?’
‘Fucking chismoso,’ you curse, not bothering to hide it under your breath. You’re out in the open then, not as subtle as you thought you were, thanks to that freak with the smirk. ‘I’m an adult, Pacho.'
He shrugs, lifts a hand to show that he’s unbothered, he knows, he isn’t disputing that.
‘So, what now?’ You laugh and it feels manic, on edge with nerves you’re trying to hide. You’d never thought this far in advance. ‘You forbid me from seeing him?’
You note something close to amusement behind his eyes. But again, he makes you wait, leaning forward to drink from his cup. Once it’s set down, he shakes his head and says, ‘No. I invited him to lunch with us.’
‘Qué?’ you balk. ‘Here?’
He nods. You feel your heart drop; through you, through the chair. It may as well have slapped onto the kitchen tile beneath. You had never wanted to tell him about your involvement with Amado, partly because it felt like a wrongdoing, like a disruption to their arrangement that could never be allowed to exist. A betrayal to your brother, too. But there was also a part of you that had liked keeping them separate, that had enjoyed having the excuse of secrecy to limit what the relationship could be. You could hardly avoid that conversation now that Pacho knows, and Amado is about to find out.
‘Why would you do that?’ you demand. To embarrass you, to confront the both of you at once? The thought alone of the two of them in the same room as you is punishment in itself, never mind what it would actually entail. ‘No es serio, Pacho, you know how it is.’
‘Do I?’ He breathes a laugh, pushing it through his nose. Whatever the joke is, you missed it, and he has no intention of expanding. He stands at once, straight and tall over you. ‘Then you can tell him that,’ he says. ‘He’ll be here soon.’
‘Fuck.’ You sit back, hands falling limp into your lap. Fuck.
#amado carrillo fuentes x reader#amado x reader#pacho sister fic#narcos mexico fanfic#narcos mexico#destroying my writers block by FORCE#sheer will power#dont ask why i picked this gif im babygirlifying the back of acostas head for the sake of pacho sister
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Songs that I’d think would work when dancing with characters from Narcos/Narcos Mexico Part 1(may edit later)
I NEED feedback rn good or bad I need them and it’s very appreciated :))) also requests are open to anyone :))))
Pacho
Dios mío,,,this man has me under a spell it’s not funny
Honestly, this was kinda hard but I used the pacho brain rot I have :)
The thought process was he’s very full of himself and he chose dos gardenias in that one dance scene
so I have to choose something similar by nature
Tbh Dos Locos and Perfume de Gardenias came to mind
Dos locos just fits the relationship dynamic,,,
Dramatic, par de toxicos :))
It’s one of those songs you two dance to laughing
But perfume de gardenias is so ✨pacho in love✨
Just him being so deeply enamored with you
Worshipping your mind, body and you as a whole
Amado
Pinche totin mi esposo mi narizon
Honestly his section was kinda easier
Genuinely think Chalino Sanchez is what fits the best
Los chismes by chalino,,,,,
YES PLEASE
ONE CHANCE PLEASE AMADO
I see y’all dancing it at a balie
Everyone just trying to imitate :))
Wishing they had what y’all have :)))
And it just feeding into Amado’s ego
Dancing with you with a beer in hand y todo,,
Ugh stop this man is too perfect
Benjamin
AY MIN MI HERMOSO CARIÑO
Can I say Es Por Ti by Juanes?
He’s a dedicated man and this song just embodies his love for you
It just perfectly expresses how every time he wakes up with you is a blessing for him,,,
Hes such a hopeless romantic :((
Just like us:(((
Plz hug him :((((
but also,,
Sabor a mi or sin ti by los panchos
Just very smothering songs about love :(((
Like in the morning,,slow dancing with him
Everything is quiet and relaxing :(((
Just him so in love and dedicated to you :(((
Colonel Carrillo
Giggling at the thought of horacio dancing con el amor de su vida
The hc of him dancing with his lover to Suavecito by Malo started this shit show
Like I was cleaning when the song came on and I suddenly became Colonel Carrillo brain rot :))
Just such a soft song for domestic horacio
Why am I obsessed with being domestic with these psychos? Who knows :))
I feel like oldies are more his style
Both in Spanish and English :)))
I feel like y’all would dance this song at home,,,
While cleaning, making dinner, after dinner etc
Javier Peña
Ofc it’s not a hc list of narcos without the our favorite DEA whore
Let’s all collectively slut shame javi plz
He can’t dance
I’m sorry but he just can’t
But you make the effort to teach him :)
But hugging each other while listening to 505 by Arctic Monkeys,,,
Dancing to No Tengo Dinero by Juan Gabriel :)))
LIKE IN S3 WITH VICTOR BUT ITS U N JAVI AWWW
But Querida by Juan Gabriel :(((
That song embodies y’all’s relationship
This was really short but tell me who should I put in part 2!!
#narcos#narcos mexico#netflix#amado carrillo fuentes#horacio carrillo#narcos x reader#horacio carrillo x reader#amado carrillo fuentes x reader#narcos fanfiction#benjamin arellano felix#benjamin arrellano felix x reader#pacho herrera#pacho herrera x reader#ursecondbirthmom#javier peña#javier pena
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Masterlist
As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx
Mexico
Amado Carillo Fuentes
Affection - Amado Carillo Fuentes x reader
By proxy - Amado Carillo Fuentes x female!reader
Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada
Safehouse - Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada x reader
Como La Flor - Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada x reader
Burning Bridges - Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada x gn!reader
Pacho
Brown eyes - Pacho Herrera x reader
Colombian gold - Pacho x gn!reader
Chapo
Juro Que - Joaquin 'Chapo' x reader
Arturo 'Kitty' Paez
In training - Arturo ' Kitty ' Paez x reader
Salvaje - Arturo 'Kitty' Paez x female!reader
Head first - Arturo 'Kitty' Paez x female!reader
Rafa Quintero
Nightcall - Rafa Quintero x gn!reader
OG
Eduardo Sandoval
Rain season - Eduardo Sandoval x reader
Mañana por la mañana - Eduardo Sandoval x gn!reader
Chepe Santacruz
Red lipstick - Chepe Santacruz x female!reader
Javier Peña
Honey - Javier Peña x gn!reader
Jhon 'El Límon' Burges
Mamita - Jhon 'El Límon' Burges x reader
Gustavo Gaviria
Bittersweet - Gustavo Gaviria x reader
WIPs
No title yet - Pacho x GN!Reader final result here
#masterlist#narcos mexico#narcos imagine#narcos imagines#narcos mexico fanfiction#narcos mexico imagine#amado carrillo fuentes x reader#amado x reader#el mayo x reader#ismael el mayo zambada x reader#Spotify#pacho x reader#pacho herrera x reader#arturo kitty paez x reader#chepe santacruz x reader#chepe x reader#rafa x reader#rafa quintero x reader#john el limon x reader#el limon x reader#jhon burges x reader#gustavo gaviria x reader#gustavo x reader
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Rating: Explicit
Relationship: Amado Carrillo Fuentes/Hélmer “Pacho” Herrera
Sort of a “quarantine writing”, trying different angles here.
Ps. I know writing about real people in history sucks, but don’t roast me too hard because it’s not like I can help it (especially considering my track record with trashy ships)
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Renegada♱
Pairings: Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]
Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)
Synopsis: You have to take on the role of a musician to infiltrate a restaurant filled with high-level international drug dealers.There, you meet Amado as expected, However, it seems that everything is not going according to the plan anymore.
AN : Just in case you're wondering, in this story, Pacho is the same person as in El Paraiso de las Pandillas. I imagine him as bisexual. (Please don't attack me; it's just my imagination and has no relevance to real individuals.)
I used to think that I wouldn't continue this fanfic, but because there are still people waiting to read it, I thought I would give it another try. However, if it doesn't really work out, I probably won't update it anymore. Thank you to everyone who has been following and reading it all along. I truly appreciate it.
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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
➡ Previous : Next
[1]ᅳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚 ✟
Havana, Cuba
1830(Military Time)
It has been over three hours since you sat and played the grand piano in the restaurant of the capital city. Your fingers ache from pressing down on the black and white keys as you continuously perform well-known classical pieces to entertain the sole guest here, who is seated at the large table in the middle of the restaurant.
A tall, dark-skinned man with an unruly beard and disheveled hair, always dressed in black and adorned with brand-name sunglasses hanging over his chest on the edge of his shirt
That is Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the target you've been waiting for.
You watch this man intently, alert and attentive. Since the mission began, this is the first time you have seen this man so closely. Close enough for you to shoot him dead without missing a beat.
But that's not the objective this time, and you're not playing the role of an assassin or a CIA agent. Here, you're just a "Camila," an ordinary female musician hired to provide some entertainment during an important meeting of the Latin American drug cartel.
"It's too long." Diego's voice crackles through the earpiece, sounding irritated. "Are you sure the intel is correct?"
It's not just him who feels irritated; you feel the same. "I risked my life to obtain this information. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here," your words barely whispered, but the tone sounds like a shout
"I think this should be enough," says the voice that comes back, belonging to Waltz, with a Texan accent that is so familiar to you. "You find a way out, and then we'll discuss what to do next."
No way, you think, but you don't say it out loud. You deliberately ignored that command.
Suddenly, your bare back under the yellow floral-patterned dress shivers as you notice three more individuals walking into the empty restaurant. They are dressed in vibrant, tailored suits, adorned with thick gold chains and expensive watches 'drug lord uniforms.' That's what Diego told you—the first rule of identifying suspicious individuals—and it proves very useful this time.
Those people are the most powerful drug lord syndicate in Colombia, called "Gentlemen of Cali" Today, they have appeared together, all three of them. You discreetly observe the two Rodríguez brothers, Gilberto and Miguel, They both seem like ordinary old men with no apparent threat. No one knows that beneath that façade, they are the heads of 'Cali Cartel' the most powerful drug cartel in Colombia, controlling over 90% of the cocaine market worldwide, ever since Pablo Escobar fell.
However, the most frightening person is Pacho Herrera, the second-in-command of the gang. He is still young, handsome, and charismatic, with a strong sexual appeal to both men and women (mostly men, as confirmed by one of the prostitutes who is your informant that Pacho is bisexual). His appearance is strikingly different from that of other drug dealers. The reason why this man often takes on the role of negotiating and bargaining for the gang's benefits is that Pacho is always able to fulfill his duties and responsibilities. He is clever, cunning, and ruthless.
Nevertheless, Pacho's relationship with Amado seems to be going well. As far as you have learned, Pacho greatly admires this Mexican drug dealer. Although it is uncertain whether their relationship is strictly professional or romantic, there is a high possibility that this negotiation will succeed without any issues.
Although you are sitting closest to them, you are still considered distant. There is no way for you to hear their conversation, but you can read their lips to some extent.
—I want to make an offer.
—What offer?"
—A transportation exchange with Cocaine and market sharing in America
—You want to compete with my gang?
—I don't want to compete, and what I'm doing will help your gang in America.
That's all you know, albeit not much. However, it's enough to confirm that these two gangs are indeed negotiating a drug trafficking agreement.
There was a tense whispering between the Rodríguez brothers before they abruptly stood up without touching the food on the table. They didn't look upset but rather seemed deeply engrossed in their thoughts about that proposal. As for Pacho, he remained seated at the table, continuing to sip his drink, and began to casually ask Amado, "How are you, friend?" while spraying empty words for several minutes before finally getting up and patting Amado on the back, saying, "Wait for a phone call tonight."
"What happened then?" asked Diego anxiously, but you didn't respond. At that moment, nothing else on that table could divert your attention from the remaining Amado.
Suddenly, he raised his face—the only moment you and he made eye contact without intending to. He smiled at you, and you felt an instant chill when you realized it was the most dangerous smile in both America and Mexico.
And the man slowly stood up before confidently walking towards you.
You stopped playing the piano immediately. The last note resonated in the air before it fell silent. One of your hands instinctively reached to the back, a familiar gesture, only to realize later that you hadn't brought your gun with you.
This was an unexpected situation for you, and the most unsettling part was that you had no idea of his intentions or what kind of danger might arise within the next few minutes.
Perhaps this plan leaked to Amado. Maybe you would die at his hands.
No matter how nervous you were, you tried to smile calmly back at him, the calmest you could be. Your heart pounded when he stopped right in front of you, closer than ever.
"You play the piano very well," was Amado's first sentence. "May I ask your name?"
"I'm Camila."
"And I'm Amado," he said, extending his hand. You shook hands, feeling like it was a dream, but the firm and rough palm confirmed it was real.
The man fell silent, contemplating something deeply in his heart. You didn't dare move again; you remained seated, still wary what was happening.
He must have a plan. That's what you're thinking right now
And Amado also had a plan for you, just not the kind you had imagined.
"I think I'll have to stay around here for a while. It would be good to have a friend with me. If you have no business and don't mind being my friend," he said,
You raised an eyebrow, almost letting your jaw drop.
You didn't react immediately. You knew what he wanted from you.
"Well, I'm just a musician. If you need..." You left a small gap for him to figure out. "I think you can contact some women from outside."
"No, no, not like that." Amado quickly waved his hand, looking surprised and chuckling at the same time. "I just want you to join me for a drink and sit with me as long as I stay here, that's all."
You blinked in astonishment, realizing that everything happening was beyond the mission and beyond expectations. No matter what, you have obtained what you want now, and you should leave as soon as you have the chance before anything bad happens.
But deep down, you also knew that this was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime chance that might never come again.
You tried to smile again and chose to do the opposite of what you should do.
"Sure, why not, if you're paying"
You accept his offer
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Inside the modified black van, loud conversations in Spanish resonated. Before Diego's face emerged from the van's window, he glanced at his boss, who was waiting outside with American officers, his expression not looking too good.
"We can't contact Y/N anymore, but we know she's with Amado now."
The deputy police chief, who had just finished smoking a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke before squinting at Diego. "What does it mean that She's with Amado? Did they catch her?"
"Nah, I think she chose to stay willingly." Diego took off his glasses, a rare occurrence unless he was feeling stressed. "That idiot lured her to drink, and she said yes!. I've invited her before, and she refused all the time. But now she chooses to go with that scumbag drug dealer without a second thought!”
Julio chuckled, He smirked before extending his hand to slap him on the back. "Because you're not as handsome as he is, little boy."
"I don't see what's so funny." Walt spoke up, leaning against the van door with a tense expression: "She's in danger, and we need to get her out of there quickly."
"Calm down, White Boy." Julio's voice remained relaxed, knowing that the American officer genuinely cared for their lone teammate. "She's C.I.A. Somehow she managed to survive, right?"
"But the C.I.A. isn't God," Walt retorted. "She could have been shot and killed just like me and you."
Diego glanced at Walt and immediately decided that this was not about himself. So he quickly turned his face and stepped back into the van. There was a faint shout from one of the Mexican soldiers on the other side, suggesting, "If you guys want to fight, do it in a secluded place." Walt responded to the advice by raising his middle finger in return.
Such situations were common in the battle against drug trafficking. Sometimes the tension of the mission led to heated arguments
If Americans were like tongues, Mexicans were like teeth. Julio knew this truth well, as did Walt himself.
The Mexican man calmly lit up another cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke from his mouth and nose. "Listen, Walt, I know that the C.I.A. is not a god. Americans like you have never been my gods, and I know Y/N is going to do something by herself. No one is controlling her. That means she believes in herself, and you should have faith in her too."
With his long, pointing finger, he directed it straight at Walt, locking him in an intense gaze. Fatigued eyes still held a spark. 'We're all tired, and we don't want anyone to die’ conveyed Julio through his gaze, leaving the DEA agent at a loss for words.
Walt wanted to trust in you, as Julio told him, but that didn't help alleviate the anxiety in his heart.
Because you were the youngest agent Walt had ever worked with. You were the same age as his younger brother, and you had a bright future ahead of you. Walt didn't want you to make a mistake, and he didn't want to do anything that would restrain you in any way.
Walt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a fresh cigarette being offered to him by Julio. Walt accepted the gesture by taking it and holding it between his lips, whispering a soft thank you. As Julio lit the cigarette for him,
They both stood there, smoking side by side, exchanging understanding through the smoke and silence. Walt gazed at the darkening sky as the streetlights gradually turned on one by one, illuminating both sides of the road. He took another deep smoke before turning to the person beside him and asking, "So, what do we do next?"
Julio smiled briefly, tapped the end of his own cigarette against the side mirror of the van, and let the ashes fall to the ground.
"All we can do is wait," he said.
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#narcos: mexico#narcos x reader#amado carrillo fuentes#walt breslin#narcos mexico netflix#narcos fic#amado carrillo fuentes x you#amado carrillo fuentes x reader#walt breslin x you#walt breslin x reader#jose maria yazpik#scoot mcnairy#narcos mexico fanfic#narcos mexico fanfiction#narcos: mexico tv series#Renegada♱
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Leyenda | Beholden
Summary: The DEA recruits Magnussen.
Words: 2,609
Pairing: none yet, but watch out for Special Agent Breslin
Warnings: politics, mentions of drug trafficking, mentions of death, mention of SA, mention of torture, mention of kidnapping, mention of violence, mention of guns, mentions of communism, Ronald Reagan, smoking, cussing, eventual enemies to friends to lovers, eventual relationship, eventual smut. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!
Notes: Hi, I’m alive. First off, I’m extremely sorry for being so late with posting this. Thank you all for your support and patience! It means a lot, and I hope that my little series will live up to your expectations. Secondly, please don’t take any chapter warnings lightly, as I don’t intend to downplay and romanticize the War on Drugs and other subjects related to it. Finally, the majority of characters featured in this story is based off of their portrayals in Netflix’s Narcos shows (if you haven’t seen Narcos: Mexico, please do yourself a favor and watch it). Agents Magnussen and Bowen are both my OCs. If you wish to be added to or removed from my taglist, my DMs and ask box are open.
Credits: Huge thank you to my beta @maharani-radha-writes 💛 and to my sweet @artthurshelby for the GIF 🧡
Ao3 | Masterlist | Next
DECEMBER 6, 1985
AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND
“… bodies of U.S. drug agent Enrique Camarena and Mexican pilot Alfredo Zavala being loaded in the back of a pickup, guarded by heavily-armed Mexican Federal police for the 70-mile drive from Zamora to Guadalajara. The bodies were discovered early yesterday morning by a farm worker along a well-traveled road. They had not been there 12 hours earlier. The spot they were found was just 500 yards from a ranch house, where federal police killed five members of a family on Saturday after receiving an anonymous tip Camarena could be located on the ranch. Police said the family was involved in drug trafficking. Neighbors said it was a massacre.”
Magnussen looked up from the pictures of the 881 Lope de Vega house that she was holding – valuable evidence she now apparently had access to – her gaze settling on the woman sitting across from her. Bowen had turned her head sideways, towards the cracked window, faking distraction. She scrunched up her small nose, indicating that the smell bothered her. Magnussen rolled the culprit – a cigarette – between her fingers, defiantly, with no intention of putting it out. The smoke filled her lungs, soothing her nerves slightly. Nasty habit, Maia would have complained.
Magnussen decided to entertain herself by studying Bowen – preventing her eyes from lingering too long, lest the agent mistook it for interest. It was merely curiosity. Bowen had deposited her beige coat on the backrest of her chair, revealing bony shoulders, and had pushed her lengthy blond hair over them, straightening her spine. The wedding band that she wore glimmered in the sunlight each time her left hand moved. Although she had picked an unfortunate shade of pink for her lipstick, Magnussen couldn’t deny that Bowen had something striking about her. Must be the DEA badge attached to her belt. The one she had undoubtedly flashed in front of Magnussen’s coworkers to signal that she was an important American who meant business.
And it had worked, of course. Here she was, in Magnussen’s office, with an air of superiority that taunted, “You should be grateful that I accepted to meet with you,” as if she had had a choice. The presence of a DEA agent had naturally caused turbulence around the place; several of Magnussen’s overly nosy colleagues couldn’t help but glance at them, foolishly assuming that no one noticed. Who the fuck thought glass walls were a good idea?
Bowen had come bearing gifts; specifically, a dossier as thick as Brezhnev’s eyebrows titled “CLASSIFIED” – adding to the stack of reports already present on Magnussen’s desk – which sported the seal of the U.S. Department of Justice. Uh oh. Classified, U.S., justice. Too many bad words. Whatever it is, it’s illegal.
This time, Bowen’s hawkish stare gave away her attempts to predict Magnussen’s suppressed reactions. Evidently, subtlety wasn’t among her strong suits. This is a fucking interview. For a job Magnussen neither knew about, nor applied for, let alone wanted. And why had they sent Bowen, of all people? They barely knew each other. Magnussen wasn’t going to give in – not so easily, anyway. She wanted answers, and if they wanted her, they would have to do better than this.
Magnussen set aside the disturbing photos, attention shifting to the file titled “OPERATION LEYENDA.” She pulled out a list of names, some of which were crossed out.
MIGUEL ÁNGEL FÉLIX GALLARDO
JUAN JOSÉ ESPARRAGOZA MORENO
SERGIO ESPINO VERDIN
HUMBERTO ÁLVAREZ MACHAÍN
RUBÉN ZUNO ARCE
JUAN RAMÓN MATTA-BALLESTEROS
RENÉ VERDUGO URQUÍDEZ
RAÚL LÓPEZ ÁLVAREZ
JESÚS FÉLIX GUTIÉRREZ
JUAN JOSÉ BERNABÉ RAMIREZ
JAVIER VÁSQUEZ VELASCO
Upon closer inspection, she recognized most of them as drug traffickers or DFS agents. Or both. One question remained: what did all of this have to do with her? Magnussen took a drag from her cigarette, then tapped it against the rim of the ashtray on the desk, to drop the ashes. Alright, I’ll bite.
‘What’s Operation Leyenda?’, she queried, impartially.
Bowen cleared her throat, relieved that the silent treatment had finally ended, and rested her elbows on the wooden surface.
‘It’s a task force we set up a few months ago. They’re gathering evidence to bring indictments against those responsible for what happened to Kiki,’ recited Bowen like a diligent student, as if she had practiced the speech in front of her mirror, at home.
Magnussen’s brows furrowed while she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.
‘Mexico City said the Camarena case is closed,’ she recalled, running her free hand over her thigh, to smooth the fabric of her navy-blue suit pants, ‘I haven’t heard anything about Operation Leyenda on the news. The American embassy hasn’t said anything, either… Now that I think about it, neither has the DOJ.’
‘My, you’re observant,’ commented Bowen, dryly.
‘The classified part kinda gave it away,’ surmised Magnussen before smoking some more, ‘The operation’s illegal, and these agents are vigilantes.’
‘Administrator Lawn sees it as a taking off the gloves type of thing. The Mexican government isn’t big on transparency and justice, so, we’re giving them a… little push.’
The faint smile that formed on Magnussen’s face didn’t reach her eyes. Bowen’s excuse reminded her of Porfirio Díaz’s lament, “Poor Mexico. So far from God, and so close to the United States.”
‘Anyway,’ continued the agent, ‘One of the agents recently got transferred to the States, and there’s a vacant spot on the team.’
‘Uh huh,’ deadpanned Magnussen, watching Bowen, suspiciously.
She’s trying to recruit me for an illegal operation and preaching about transparency in the same breath.
‘Obviously, your name came up. Multiple times. Many of my superiors are quite eager to work with you. Edward Heath and James Kuykendall even put in a good word for you.’
Oh, look at the Americans – doing charity work for free.
‘What’s with the crossed-out names?’, asked Magnussen, cutting to the chase, referring to the list of criminals.
‘They were arrested,’ replied Bowen, after hesitating for a split second.
Or killed, Magnussen read between the lines, feeling beads of sweat gather at the nape of her neck. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, rubbing her left earring, the sharp edge of the crescent moon digging into her thumb.
‘Why does the DEA want me?’, she inquired, at last.
Magnussen didn’t know how to best break it to the anti-drug Jehovah’s Witnesses that she didn’t think that narcotics were an actual problem.
Bowen glared at her, reluctant to engage.
‘Indulge me, Audrey,’ teased Magnussen, offering the sweetest false smile she could manage.
‘Well, you knew Kiki personally–’
‘That’s funny,’ interrupted Magnussen, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray, ‘Jaime Kuykendall was taken off the case for being too emotionally attached. Got transferred to El Paso.’
‘You talked with him?’, questioned Bowen, expression fatigued.
‘We keep in touch,’ disclosed Magnussen, flatly, drumming her black, manicured nails against the desk, ‘So, why does the DEA want me?’
The agent let out a long sigh, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘You graduated two universities, you speak six languages, you have some experience in Mexico and with the DEA,’ listed Bowen, ‘You’re a smart, resourceful, and ambitious kid. That enough or do you need more?’
I doubt that you have more. And I was in Mexico completing my master’s degree, not shooting guns and illegally kidnapping government officials, but whatever. Small difference. Magnussen hummed thoughtfully, visibly unimpressed, then countered:
‘I’m also a foreign woman raised in a communist regime. I turn twenty-four in a couple of weeks. You’re telling me that your superiors are willing to overlook that?’, she emphasized, doubtful, ‘As flattering as this proposal is, I don’t think that my safety was taken into consideration. What if someone finds out about what we’re doing? There’ll be consequences, and you can’t even guarantee diplomatic immunity.’
‘It won’t come to that,’ assured Bowen, almost kindly, maintaining her calm, ‘And you won’t be on your own. Your partners will have your back.’
Magnussen scoffed dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s patronizing me.
‘I guess hiring me is somewhat convenient,’ she admitted, bitterly, ‘My age, gender, nationality, and lack of experience are all reasons to pay me less. D.C. is more preoccupied with communists, anyway. Reagan probably mentions them in his sleep.’
‘Let me get this straight,’ snapped Bowen, tone acid, ‘You don’t think there’s anything wrong with what happened to Kiki? You don’t think he deserves justice?’
‘I think he deserves better than cheap propaganda and political agendas,’ corrected Magnussen, coldly, ‘You’ve all turned him into a martyr.’
‘The cartel turned him into a martyr,’ argued Bowen, tapping her index finger against the table, ‘And cheap propaganda? It’s easy for you to sit there and judge what you don’t know, but you clearly want honesty, so, here.’
The agent retrieved a file from the dossier and handed it to Magnussen, who accepted it cautiously. While she skimmed over a Forensics report, Bowen explained, occasionally pausing whenever her voice wavered:
‘The press wasn’t given every detail of the investigation… Camarena was tortured by Sergio Verdin. Ex DFS. He beat him, electrocuted him, burned him, used a power drill on him. They fractured his ribs and jaw in multiple places, cracked his skull, sodomized him with a tire iron… Doctor Machaín kept Kiki awake during the whole thing. Injected adrenaline into his heart. After 36 hours, Camarena fell into a coma. That’s when they killed him… A month later, the bodies were found near a ranch in Zamora. Owned by a former PRI member. Ugly divorce. Zavala didn’t have any signs of torture. He allegedly died from asphyxiation... The MFJP destroyed a lot of the evidence.’
Magnussen refused to tear her gaze away from the crumpled-up pieces of paper by the trash can in the corner of the office. She listened to the distant sound of traffic slipping through the window. The information hadn’t come as a surprise. Magnussen wasn’t naïve. Death was familiar; a looming presence everywhere she went. She knew that entering the room where Camarena had been tortured required leaving her soul at the door. Magnussen had heard what had happened to Kiki, even spoken to Mika about it. Yet tears stung her eyes all the same, threatening to fall. She bit the inside of her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to regain control of her breathing. She wasn’t allowed to cry in front of these people. Her tears were hers and hers alone.
Once she fought the lump in her throat, Magnussen swallowed, finally gathering the courage to look at the DEA agent.
‘Mexico City must’ve been in on it,’ she theorized, absent-mindedly tugging at the sleeve of her white shirt, ‘They’re trying to cover up the tracks that lead to them. They gave you the perfect scapegoats – Quintero and Fonseca – but that’s as far as they’ll go.’
Bowen nodded in agreement, combing her hair with her fingers.
‘The former commander of the DFS disappeared after he resigned, a few years ago. It’s a miracle our guys bagged Zuno… He owns the house at Lope de Vega,’ she clarified, regarding Magnussen’s puzzled expression, ‘President Echeverría’s brother-in-law. He’s awaiting trial in the States.’
‘No shit,’ said Magnussen, half impressed.
‘We suspect Félix Gallardo went underground,’ confessed the agent, frustrated, nails scratching the back of her hand, ‘Calderoni was sent to arrest him. You know him?’
Magnussen huffed, irked by Audrey’s cockiness. Is she gonna ask if Luke Skywalker’s a Jedi, too?
‘Everyone and their mother do,’ she sassed, arching an eyebrow, ‘The Eliot Ness of the MFJP.’
‘Well, the Thin Man got away under… suspicious circumstances. The most incorruptible cop in Mexico returned empty-handed.’
‘The one that got away,’ quipped Magnussen, instinctively glancing at the clock on the wall, ‘Gallardo’s at the top of the pyramid. He built the system. If the PRI hasn’t given him up, he’s probably still in the party’s good graces… or has leverage over them. Either way, they’re protecting themselves by protecting him.’
‘So,’ shrugged Bowen, expectant, ‘How do we catch him?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Magnussen, genuinely, ‘He was always two steps ahead of your agents in Guadalajara… What I do know is that the cartel has been blessed by the powers that be from the beginning. They wouldn’t act alone. The burning of the marijuana field in Chihuahua angered the cartel, and rightfully so – they lost a lot of money – but it also spooked the Mexican government. They thought Kiki knew something that represented a threat to them.’
‘That’s why you would be an asset to Leyenda,’ encouraged Bowen, hopeful, nearly pleading.
Magnussen rolled her eyes, internally sighing in exasperation. Jesus fucking Christ. Something about their desperation seeded doubt within her. She refused to believe that they had run out of candidates for the job. Magnussen, on the other hand, had run out of patience.
‘Why?’, she demanded, blood boiling, ‘So you can parade me around as your rehabilitated communist girl? No, thanks. You’ve done this dozens of times. Immigrants, alcohol, the mafia, the Japanese, black people, communists, and now drugs. You’ll eventually grow bored of drugs and find a new enemy to wage war against – or you’ll create one. Where does it fucking end, Audrey? I’m not gonna kill people for Uncle Sam and your fragile patriotism.’
‘Then don’t do it for Uncle Sam,’ reasoned Bowen, composed, ‘Don’t do it for Reagan or the DEA. Do it for Kiki.’
Magnussen hesitated, clenching her teeth, forcefully enough to shatter. The memory of Kiki’s tragedy was raw, further tearing into an open wound that hadn’t had the chance to heal. Kiki had been a good person, but he had died a cruel, unfair death. Some of his killers still walked free. Kiki had filled voids for her, had done what others failed to do. He had been a parental figure to her. Didn’t she owe it to him? Wasn’t bringing these criminals to justice the least that she could do? For widowing Mika and leaving three innocent boys fatherless?
Returning to Mexico implied a tremendous risk and it didn’t even guarantee a success – or survival. They were up against the system and, although it had been backed into a corner, the danger hadn’t gone away. Clawed and fanged, the system was capable of regeneration, despite the blows it had received. It was an intricate game of chess, and the stakes were immense. Every move counted.
If the DEA don’t take my life, they’ll take my soul. No matter what she did, it seemed that Magnussen would inevitably lose her soul. What difference did it make if it were to the cartel or to the DEA? The only thing she could do was grab fear by the hand and step forward. Do something. If I don’t, no one will.
‘Alright,’ conceded Magnussen, somber, ‘I’ll join the task force.’
Bowen offered her a large grin, flashing her pearly whites.
‘I’m really glad,’ she gushed, reaching for Magnussen’s hands, and squeezing them briefly. Upon releasing them, she presented Magnussen with a file, watching her, almost giddily, jesting, ‘I think it’s time for you to meet your partners.’
There were nine members in total, all of them men – three Americans, the rest Mexicans. Their résumés had a small, black-and-white photograph attached. After flicking through the pages with their work and experience, Magnussen surveyed their appearance. I’ll be the youngest one, she realized.
‘He’s cute,’ she declared, pointing at the man with a well-groomed mustache and dark, medium-length curls.
‘Special Agent Breslin,’ noted Bowen, smirking in amusement, ‘He’s in charge of the operation.’
‘Of course, he is,’ snickered Magnussen, mirroring her smirk.
‘So,’ began Audrey, grabbing a pen, ‘Let’s discuss the details of your transfer.’
TAGLIST: @a-dash-of-random-magic @agirllovespancakes @artthurshelby @buttercup--bee @captn-andor @cleastrnge @frodo-sam @itssmashedavo @maevesdarling @maevemills @maharani-radha @miawallace @mitchi-c @moonlight-prose @nicolettegreen @operator-sero @pascalisthepunkest @queenofthefaceless @revolution-starter @tisbeautifulfreedom
END THE WAR ON DRUGS: Equity Organization & Drug Policy Alliance
READ MORE: Camarena case, PRI, DFS, MFJP
#narcos fanfic#narcos mexico#narcos mexico fanfic#walt breslin#walt breslin x oc#walt breslin/oc#walt breslin x reader#walt breslin/reader#javier peña#javier peña x oc#javier peña/oc#javier peña x reader#javier peña/reader#miguel ángel félix gallardo#amado carrillo fuentes#steve murphy#pacho herrera#jaime kuykendall#ed heath#guillermo calderoni#pablo acosta#daryl petsky#mimi webb miller#sal orozco#amat palacios#ossie mejía#danilo garza#scoot mcnairy#pedro pascal#tori’s beholden
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𝐋𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀 𝐀𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Pairing: Pacho Herrea (Alberto Ammann Ver.) x Latina!Reader (Mariposa)
Summary: Being a childhood best friend to Amado, she’s gotten caught in his complicated network of drug trafficking. It’s a life that comes with lots of caution and Y/N is worried about her tiny role until she meets one man that can make life just a little bit easier.
A/N: I am accepting requests on this pairing; please send them to my inbox. Smut requests will not be accepted by minors, anons, no posts blogs, spam likers or ageless blogs.
REQUESTING GUIDELINES
TBA
#Pacho Herrea x Latina!Reader#amado carrillo fuentes x latina!reader#amado carrillo fuentes x f!reader#smut#fluff#angst#death#drug use#smoking#deception#Pacho Herrea x F!Reader#pacho herrea fanfiction#narcos fanfiction
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