Señora VelascoâŠ.đ
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Ooooh. Poor JosĂ©, conflicted about his sexuality (I mean can you blame him when Chepe is around?) and not allowing himself to feel the way he feels. Iâm honestly glad heâs bi and not gay, because my heart would be broken if heâd had to marry a woman for appearances rather than love. Luckily, he fell in love with Alice and was very happy with her, so that helps. It still hurts that he had to hide that side of himself. I wonder how different things might have been if theyâd lived in an open, accepting society.
And Chepe just looks so beautiful here. Those EYES (and whore lashes obv). Ugh.
«having finished with the horses, the guys moved towards the forest. Previously, they often walked in this area when little José came to visit Chepe with his father. José remembers Chepe as a small, cheeky, hooligan boy who could be very sweet and gentle at times. He's changed now. Guzman stole a glance at him. Thick, short hair, beautiful build, strong hands. José forgot that Chepe has such beautiful big blue eyes and long eyelashes. have it always been like this? Noticing that José is starting to openly stare, he looks away in embarrassment and clenches a toothpick between his teeth. "Stop it," the guy thinks. He forbids himself to think about guys in a romantic way»
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Lethal Amigos: Narco AU
âTo Survive in This Townâ
By @senshirei / @dos-mariposas
Lethal Amigos created by @lethalamigos Estevan & Chepe are @papermachetteâs OC
Part 3/? - also on AO3 HERE
Late Thursday night, Chepe was laying spread out of his tatty couch, eyes half closed, an almost empty bottle of tequila on the table. He wasnât sleeping, but the banging on the door still made his heart jolt out of his chest as he jumped up, immediately grabbing his gun from the table and blinking rapidly to try clear his head from the drug come-down and the fog of tequila swirling around his mind.
âOpen up, Chi Chi!â the song-song voice carried through the door to Chepeâs pounding head. Chepe rolled his eyes. Not that fucking hijueputa. He wasnât in the mood for Estevanâs games tonight.
âWhat do you want, Estevan?â he growled through the door. âItâs nearly fucking midnight!â
âJust open the door, amigo,â Estevan continued, his cheery voice doing very little to hide the venom beneath it. Chepe hadnât known the minor-league gang member long, but he already know three important facts: one, Estevan thought he was much more important and powerful than he really was. Two, despite this, he was not someone to get on the wrong side of, and was currently Chepeâs only ticket to surviving in this town. And three, he was a fucking prick.
Chepe gritted his teeth, rubbed his tired and gritty eyes with the heel of his gun-holding hand, and opened the door, positioning himself to block the entrance, not allowing the Santos del Norte member in.
âWhat. Do. You. Want?â Chepe repeated. He wasnât posturing with his gun, but he wasnât exactly hiding it either.
âAy, ay Chi Chi,â Estevan held up his hands in mock surrender, a familiar gesture of his that Chepe already found infuriating. âCanât a man visit his friend? Why so defensive?â
Estevan shouldered past Chepe into the room and looked around the dirty room, shaking his head. âLoving what youâre doing to the place, Chi. I hope youâve not been bringing any girls back here. Youâre giving Santos del Norte a bad name.â
Chepe watched the man. Estevan didnât do âsocial visitsâ. Thereâd be a reason for his arrival, and Chepe fucking hated the way the other man made a song and dance out of every interaction. His patience was wearing thin, his head was pounding and he really wanted to just punch the man outcold so he could get back to his semi-slumber on the couch.
Estevan watched Chepeâs face and almost pouted with the lack of reaction he was getting. âI suppose thatâs a ânoâ to bringing girls back here? Iâm surprised, amigo, I took you for a ladyâs man. OrâŠâ he smirked, stepped close to Chepe, and began to gently reach out a hand toward his face, âis it the boys that you like?â
Chepe grabbed the manâs wrist before he could touch his face. âFuck off, hijueputa. Iâve asked you nicely and Iâm not going to ask again - what the fuck do you want?â
Estevan held Chepeâs gaze and slowly licked his lips, letting his hand go limp in Chepeâs grasp. He bit his bottom lip and gently tugged his wrist out of Chepeâs grasp. Push, push, push. Estevan was still learning exactly what buttons to push for Chepe, but the farmer wasnât particularly adept at hiding his anger and Estevan was making a mental note of every single temper flare. Chepe had information Estevan wanted; however he wasnât a fragile, soft man. Chepe was hard, and violent, and even Estevan could admit that he would most likely be the loser in a fair physical fight. But Estevan didnât play âfairâ. Estevan was clever, and calculating, and manipulative, and he could break people in other ways.
âItâs Friday. Where is my money?â
That threw Chepe for a second. It must have only been a few minutes past midnight. The deal had been to give Estevan his money on Friday, yes, but a few minutes into the day?
âDonât be ridiculous,â he snarled, âyou said fucking Friday. Iâll sell your fucking drugs, youâll get your money tonight.â
Estevan bit his bottom lip again in an exaggerated pouting gesture. âNow, now Chi Chi. Thatâs no way to speak to your bossâ - Chepe simmered with anger - âbut fine. You have 24 hours. In the meantime, I thought we should have a chat. Get to know each other a bit better, yâknow?â
Estevan turned his back on Chepe and sauntered over to the frayed couch, settling himself down on it as if he didnât have a care in the world. He reached for the open bottle of tequila on the table and downed the remainder of the contents.
âSo⊠tell me more about you. Who is Chepe? Where does he come from?â
Chepeâs eyes narrowed and he ground his teeth together. âThereâs nothing to tell.â
Estevan laughed. It was not a nice sound. âOh Chi Chi. Why so shy? Let me tell you something about me, then. I know a lot of people in this city. I have a lot of friends in dangerous places. You might want to remember that when I ask you something.â
Chepe stepped closer to the couch Estevan was sitting on. He grabbed the now-empty bottle and threw it toward the gangster, deliberately just missing his head and smashing against the wall behind him.
âGet out.â
âAy Chi, you donât make this easy. Fine. Weâll drop it⊠for now. You better be at my place within 24 hours with the money, though, or youâll be in very big trouble. Do you understand?â
Chepe was already rapidly regretting his partnership with this man. But he needed money, and selling drugs was the easy way to make it. And⊠he couldnât admit it to himself, but he was starting to feel itchy, and fidgety, and his eyes darted to one of the bags of cocaine lying on a side table. Maybe it wasnât just the cash he needed anymore.
âYouâll get your money. Now piss off.â
Estevan smiled widely and stood up, purposefully walking past the baggies sitting out on the side table and sliding his hand over them as he headed toward the door.
âAnd Chi Chi? Remember - donât touch the merch. Itâs weighed and counted and trust me, Iâll know.â Chepeâs eyes flared slightly at Estevanâs insinuation, but also at the fact that Chepe couldnât deny heâd been thinking about it. What the fuck was wrong with him..?
âDo your job right amigo, and youâll get the good stuff, donât worry. Iâll look after you.â
Estevan didnât miss the relief in Chepeâs eyes. The man had such a self destructive streak, such an addictive personality, that Estevan couldnât help but laugh to himself as he left the room - maybe this would be easier than heâd even hoped.
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Chepe:"Favorite position? Doggy-"
Gaspar, breaking the door down:"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT A WEREWOLF WOULD SAY"
HAHAHAHAHAHA
Yeah I could see him doing that.
Gaspar is @my-gunpowder OC
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Lethal Amigos Narco AU:
âBetter Not Bite The Hand That Feeds Youâ
By @senshirei / @dos-mariposas
Part 2/?
Chepe and Estevan - Original Characters by @papermachette ( @lethalamigos )
âHere.â Estevan handed Chepe the heavy brown bag. âThatâs $300 mil pesos worth of cocaine. You sell it for double that or donât even think about working for anyone in this town.â
Chepe raised an eyebrow at the man and placed the bag on the table beside him. Estevan was a cocky hijueputa who acted as if he were more important than he was, as if he were a leader in the Santos del Norte gang; but Chepe was running out of money fast and his lifelong skills as a farmer were not in high demand in the city. Estevan had found Chepe, half drunk, in his new local bar, and after some aggressive back and forth, they soon both realised that it could be a beneficial relationship for both of them.
âAnd hey, since youâre the new guy, and I got a good feeling about you, this is on the house,â Estevan reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small clear baggie stuffed with white powder. âItâs my own special blend - this sells for top price on the streets, but Iâm feeling generous. Enjoy.â
He tossed the drugs at Chepe, who raised his fist and caught the bag in midair, not even pausing a beat before tossing it straight back.
âI donât need your drugs. Iâm here to make money and stay out of fucking trouble. Iâll make you triple back on these,â he gestured at the bag on the table, âso I donât need your charity.â
Estevan frowned and caught the bag, and began passing it from hand to hand as a slow smile crept onto his face. He sat the small baggie down beside the cocaine Chepe was to sell to whoever was willing to buy - the lowlifes living on the streets dying for a fix, the businessman needing a hit to get through his lunchtime meeting, the society woman who did lines in the bathroom as she powdered her nose. âHeh. You really are a little chihuahua, arenât you? You better not bite the hand that feeds you, perro.â
Chepe growled at the man before him. âDonât fucking call me that. Only one person ever called me that, and heâs⊠not in my fucking life anymore.â He took a step toward Estevan, who held his hands up in front of him in mock surrender.
âAy, ay, Chihuahua. How about Chi? You might want to take something to help you relax, parcero. You donât want to mess with the wrong people out here. Youâre not in your little village any more⊠what was it again, Enchinto?â
Chepe gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists to stop himself punching the smug look off of the man in front of him. He breathed deeply in and out through his teeth, clenching his jaw to stop himself retaliating or saying a word.
âFine. No doubt Iâll find out all about you soon enough, Chi Chi.â Chepeâs eyes blazed with the ridiculous nickname. âIâm sure weâll be seeing a lot more of each other if you want to make it in this town. You might want to stay on my good side, amigo.â He cocked his head to the side with a short, sarcastic snigger; enjoying the rage he was causing in Chepe, but careful not to push the man too far. Heâd heard the rumours - Chepe was from the town people had spoken of for years, but no one was quite sure they believed in. The town where magic could get you anything you wanted. And Estevan wanted everything.
âRemember - I want at least double those prices back. You have until the end of the week.â The Santos del Norte gangster reached out and snagged an almost-full bottle of whisky sitting on the counter beside Chepe. âPerfect, I could do with a drink. And hey, I gave you a little something-â he nodded toward the packet of white powder, âand you give me a little something. Looks like we both win, Chi Chi.â
âWhat the fuck-â Chepe began, but Estevan was already out the door. Chepe let himself drop down to sit on the tatty couch - the only piece of comfortable furniture in the shack he now called home. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could kill for a whisky now, that fucking pendajo. He opened his eyes and looked at the small bag on the table. No. Heâd never done drugs before and he didnât need to now. But fuck, his head was pounding and he was all too aware of the silence filling the room. Chepe never did well on his own. His own head was a dangerous place without the distraction of alcohol swimming in his veins, or a soft, eager girl under his body or strong hands holding his hips from behind, bending him over and-
Fuck.
He gave it five more minutes, and then he snorted his first line.
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Not coping well with this one, boys đđđ
SooooâŠ. Looks like Iâm gonna be pretending this au doesnât exist đ This is officially the Narco au âBad Endingâ đ„șđđą
In this AU they will live happily for 10 years outside of Encanto, until during one of the shootings the bandits shoot Chepe.. đ
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The Madrigal triplets đđđ
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A gift for @rinnysega the creator of âthe precipiceâ. A gift that attempts to hurt her as much as she hurt me. Gonna go cry some more now. Good job @rinnysega will send you my therapy bill.â€ïžđ
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Happy National Picnic Day!
Have a Drabble with Hernando and Paola ~
(Contains The Precipice Spoilers to ch 13)
Paola was having a hard time concentrating on having a good time when so much was looming over her head. The whole car ride to their family trip to Lake Mohegan was stressful - despite Hernandoâs best efforts to keep spirits lively. She was glad her husband was having fun though. He was driving a car after all, and since they couldnât afford a car of their own, it was a rare opportunity for him to get to drive since getting his license. If anything, she was thankful she had a generous boss who let him borrow it for the weekend.
The trip was a few hours long, and the whole way there, Hernando was showing off to their oldest all the fancy buttons and gears and explaining to him how cars worked. Jean Bruno leaned forward from the backseat, his arms tucked under his chin while his dad went over the gear shift for the third time.
âPapa, if you like cars so much, why donât we have one?â
âWe didnât need one in Paris, mijo, and theyâre expensive.â
âBut youâre an expert on cars. You can probably build one.â
Paola saw that familiar, childlike light in her husbandâs eye, and she immediately put the thought out of his head.
âNo, no, no, we have too much going on for you to be trying to build cars.â She bounced their youngest, Oscar, on her lap. âWhy donât you focus on building me a sandwich when we set up the picnic - howâs that sound, hm?â
There was silence between them while Paola looked out the window at the passing trees again. Hernando whispered back to their oldest, âPapiâs going to build you a car, Johnny, donât you wo-â
Paola smiled. â-You know I can hear you, right?â
Hernando whispered louder. â-Shhh, Johnny! Stop getting me in trouble!â he smiled while his son giggled at his fatherâs antics.
âIâm not talking, Papi.â He whispered.
âShh! Youâre getting me in trouble!â Hernando smiled wider when Paola tried to hide her smile while glaring over at her husband. The scene made Jean Bruno laugh, showing off the gaps of his missing baby teeth that had fallen out just the few days before.
âItâs his idea, amor, not mine!â Hernando leaned over and kissed her as they slowed down for the turn off to the lake.
***
Oscar was enjoying watching his mom while Paola bounced him up and down. âWho is my man?â she smiled at him. âWhoâs my big man?â Oscar giggled at her when his older brother came running in from the water to their picnic theyâd set up.
âMami! Mami! Did you see me? I held my breath underwater a really long time!â
âI was watching, baby, but donât go out too far when your dadâs not here.â
âIs he getting ice cream?â
âThe stand just opened, so thereâs probably a line. Come sit down and dry off.â
Jean Bruno sat behind the picnic basket and rubbed the water from his face on a towel. Just in time as his father came over from the ice cream shack with three cones in his hand.
âOkay - special delivery.â Hernando knelt down on his knees on their blanket. âJohnny, give the strawberry one to your mother please.â
He did as he was asked and passed it over to his mom and then reached out for his - chocolate his favorite. But as he held his hand out for it, his father stopped and had a strange look in his eye. âPapi? You okay?â
Hernando ignored him and looked to Paola who stared back with an odd expression to match. Jean Bruno looked between them. âUmmâŠMom? Dad?â He tended to slip into more proper English when worried.
âUmâŠJohnny, baby, why donât you take Oscar to go look for some flowers.â
âBut the ice creamâŠâ
âJean Bruno.â She gave him a stern look and without asking further, he took his little brother and helped walk him over to a spot of wildflowers. He let Oscar sit down and pick at the flowers, and after a moment, he turned around to see his parents holding onto one another - his father heaving as if cryingâŠ
âMaybe heâll miss ice cream when he goes to GermanyâŠâ he said to Oscar. âI donât think the Army has ice creamâŠâ
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Lethal Amigos Narco AU: âA Very Lucrative Clientâ
By @senshirei / @dos-mariposas
Part 1/?
Estevan ( @papermachette âs OC) and Carla (my OC)
Carla watched her boyfriend cutting and sectioning the pile of white powder on the table between them with a bored expression. She bent her head down and used a rolled up bill to snort one of the lines of powder heâd set aside for her, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand and sniffing a few times. He always kept his strains separate - the best, the purest; for the two of them and the Boss. The middle of the road for the new customers and the ones he wanted to keep on the good side of. And the shitty mix of mainly talc and crushed painkillers for the low lives heâd got hooked and who would take whatever they could get, whatever they could afford, to stay alive.
Carla licked her ring finger and ran it along the residue left on the table from her line, collecting whatever dust was left. She leaned over the low table, one knee climbing on it, to be able to reach across to Estevan and press her coated finger against his lips. He barely stopped what he was doing to part his lips, letting her slide her finger into his mouth and gently rub the powder along his gums.
âCome on, Papi, youâve been at this for hours already. Letâs have some fun!â she pouted, bringing her other knee onto the table so she was fully kneeling on it, taking her finger out of his mouth and sucking on it herself.
âGet off the table, youâre gonna mess this all up!â He growled at her, putting his own finger in his mouth to further rub the drugs in.
Carla huffed as she carefully climbed off, sitting herself on his side of the table this time, next to him on the worn, coffee-stained couch. âYouâve been such a fucking dick to me the past few days. Whatâs going on? You got some new girl or something?â
Estevan laughed unkindly, but then stopped what he was doing and turned to face her, taking her face in both his hands. âDonât be fucking stupid. Why would I need another girl when I have the queen right here, mi vida? HereâŠâ he quickly sliced her another line off and handed her the rolled up bill, âonly the best for my Carlita.â
Carla took the note and snorted the cocaine quickly before taking a long, slow inhale of fresh air through her nose, savouring the feeling of the two lines kicking in. She again licked her finger, slid it across the remnants of the line and rubbed it on her own gums, enjoying the familiar numbing feeling. She turned toward Estevan, pulled his face toward her and kissed him hard. God, she loved this man. His dark, eager eyes flashed open as she began to lift one leg over him, straddling him, and moaning into his mouth, her palms on either side of his face, her tongue dancing with his.
Estevan ran his hands down her back and grabbed her ass, pulling her closer toward him. He pulled his head back and flicked his tongue over his lips with that deliciously dangerous look on his face that made Carla instantly wet every time. She placed her hands on his thighs behind her to give her the leverage to press herself onto his crotch, feeling him harden beneath her and feeling the rush of the drugs in her system and the thrill of being with him, in this crappy shack, surrounded by thousands of dollars of cocaine and empty bottles of whisky and rum and having him wanting and needing her. She began to grind against him, throwing her head back and relishing the feeling of his trousers straining against her.
âUgh, mami⊠you know I donât have time for this right now.â
Carlaâs head snapped back up and she blinked at the man she was offering herself up to. âWhat? What the fuck do you mean? Youâre nearly done here!â she gestured at the piles of labelled bags with various amounts of white powder set out on the table.
âAh.. I have to go do a⊠social call.â He reached his hand up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, before stroking her cheek. âIâm sorry, you know thereâs nothing Iâd rather do than fuck you right over this table, right now, but this is potentially a very lucrative client.â
Carla shook her head to dislodge his hand and removed herself from his lap without saying a word. She walked over to look out the dirty window of their current residence, wrinkling her nose at the grime and lifting a half-empty bottle of rum off a nearby counter to hold to her lips.
âCome on baby, donât be like that,â he whined, already cutting her another line to prevent her from going in a mood. âI promise you, this guy will be worth it.â
Carla took a few gulps of the rum and dangled the bottle neck between her fingers as she walked back to the couch. âWhy? He rich? He better not be another one of the bossâs so-called best friends, I donât want to do another fucking delivery to find another fucking dead body!â
Estevan patted the couch seat beside him for her to sit down. âNo, no, mi amor, heâs not dangerous. I wouldnât put you in danger like that,â - Carla rolled her eyes, sheâd heard that one before - âheâs got⊠information.â
He took the bottle off of her and replaced it with the hundred dollar bill, gently pushing her head down toward the table. âI wonât be long. You know Iâm very good at getting what I want.â
Carla obligingly snorted her third line in the last ten minutes and broke into a wild grin, biting her bottom lip. She found it incredibly sexy knowing how her boyfriend could control so many little bastardos with his fists and his drugs. They were rising up the ranks. Soon enough theyâd be out of this dump and living in a beautiful farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, she just knew it. She rubbed the remnants of the powder on her gums automatically.
Estevan grabbed the back of Carlaâs head and pulled her toward him, crashing his lips into hers and forcing his tongue into her mouth to lick the cocaine from her mouth and get his own rush. He began to stand, still holding her head to his, still roughly meeting her tongue with his, only letting go of her when he was satisfied. She dropped back down to the couch, gazing up at him with eyes burning with lust.
He grabbed a few of the baggies from the table and stuffed them down his sock. He picked up his gun and tucked it in his waistband - he rarely needed it, his own special brand of cocaine was usually enough to keep anyone doing anything he wanted, but he would be stupid to live the life he did without staying protected.
âIâll be back in an hour. You better be fucking naked and ready the second I step back in that door.â
Carla fluttered her eyelashes and bit her bottom lip again. âBe safe, Papi.â
Estevan nodded. âI told you. This guy is small time. Heâs an easy customer. But he knows shit thatâs important to me. Donât worry,â he laughed, and as always his laugh gave the air of someone who relished hurting others and who found joy and humour in pain. Carla felt the familiar throbbing between her legs. That wicked laugh always turned her on and she knew he knew it. âMaybe weâll be living it up sooner than you think, Princesa, once I break this man. What do they call him again? Oh thatâs right, fucking Chihuahua.â
âChihuahua??â Carla laughed, a laugh that was much lighter and genuine that her boyfriendâs ever was. âHow cute!â She bounced up and down on the couch like a child, the drugs completely now taken hold â she was high and excited and completely enraptured with the man before her. She pressed her hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss. âHave fun, mi amor!â
âOh, I will.â
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If you havenât read @rinnysega âs The Precipice, I advise you do.
Thereâs a lot that leads up to this scene, and honestly if youâd just showed me this art without context Iâd have been like âholy shit this is amazingâ (because this artist has my whole heart) but in order to fully appreciate it you HAVE to read the whole fic. Trust me.
Iâm not a crier. I loooove angst, but I honestly donât feel sad reading things very much. But honestly, Chapter 13 of The Precipice - it was unexpectedly heartbreaking and I genuinely had to take pause and do something else for a few minutes before I was able to read on. Itâs just⊠itâs loss. Itâs grief. Itâs a very unique kind of pain, the kind of pain that comes from making an impossible choice that you feel you have to make even though it would be easier to cut out your own heart and feed it to the wolves. Itâs an empty kind of pain. The kind of pain that makes you think, was it worth the joy? Was it worth being happy, if this is how it feels when itâs taken away? They say âitâs better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at allâ, but is it? Thereâs cruelty in allowing someone to feel so much joy, so much love, so much acceptance, and then ripping it all away. And to be the one that actually condemns yourself? To be the one to make that choice?
Well, can we blame Bruno for then always running away when things get hard? When closing yourself off is the only way to survive?
Art trade with talented writer @rinnysega
She traded me with the most beautiful story of Brianaâs birthÂ
This comic takes place in the beautiful Chapter 13 of Precipice Fanfic by @rinnysega which you can find HERE.
Please follow her for more of her stories.
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A little Julieta, as a treat.
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Okay, so Brunoâs eyes being hazel and sometimes looking brown and sometimes looking green is yet another nod to his being between (a balance, but also literally being positioned in the middle of) his sisters with their respective brown and green eyes, yes?
Yes. And itâs wonderful and one of the many things I love about the triplets as an ensemble.
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more cuz the eyes need to be protected
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