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cositapreciosa · 11 months

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can you maybe write for kitty where he meets a girl thats similar to him personality wise?? and he falls in love w her immediately and stuff

Head first

Arturo '' Kitty '' Paez x female!reader (strong language, toxic relationship (not with kitty) mentions of cheating (not kitty/not you), spanish female pet names, you’re wearing heels/a dress, the usual for the show), 3215 words

a/n : @hausofmamadas once again saving the day with the Kitty gifs, amen 🙏🏻+ thank u my Kitty ride or die for pulling this one out of me @narcolini <33

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

‘’ You’re a fucking bitch, is what you are! ‘’

Between the loud music from inside and the half-open backyard door, Kitty is surprised when your voice reaches his ears. He can see you on the other side of the pool, been watching you like a hawk for a while now, sunglasses down his nose as you push around that boyfriend of yours. Palms on his chest, lips curling with every word that comes out of your mouth. Diego has always been too weak for someone like you, he has no spine, no guts. He didn’t like him. Arturo had decided that a while back, when you first started to bring him around at the house parties, at Roxanne’s.

Arturo doesn’t know you that well. He knows what Ramón tells him, when he finally gets tired of hearing him beg and whine about it, that is how he knows you would ‘eat him up and chew him out’ if he dared approach. Maybe that is why he never did. A friend of a friend, of a friend. He had always listened to Ramón and stayed back, simply because having to work hard for it is something he never liked doing. You could have anyone wrapped around your finger, as long as they were up to your standards. It is a shame, really, that he never made a move. Especially when he can see the fire in your eyes and how it matches his perfectly. Especially when he knows what kind of pendejo actually made it past your walls when he couldn’t.

You are screaming again, hands frantically pushing strands of hair behind your ears. He knows that he shouldn’t be spying on you like this, pretending to go out to light up his joint when he knows doing it inside is allowed. His hand wraps around the handle to push the rest of the door open, taking in the fresh air from the night. The music from inside is still loud even with the door closed, not one of you turning to acknowledge him.

The water reflects light on your legs, on that sparkly dress you are wearing tonight. Short, flamboyant, stunning. Arturo lights his smoke, watching your boyfriend screaming back this time, his finger pointing and piercing the skin of your chest with each word. He can see the disbelief on your face from here, the audacity of the man.

‘’ If it was such a problem, maybe you should have taken your cojones, Diego, and told me yourself, instead of going around and fucking about! ‘’

‘’ Fucking about? You’re the one walking around looking like a whore. ‘’

This one stings, deep in his bone, piercing his chest. All the way over here, he feels angry for you, cheeks hot and red burning his face. You don’t answer back after this, stunned or embarrassed, he can’t tell. He does see how flushed your chest is, how your jaw sets, tense with unspoken words. This is it. The last straw. He won’t allow Diego to insult you any further.

He calls out your name as he walks closer to the side of the pool, it’s more like a statement than a question, a greeting. I’m here, you’re good.

‘’ You’re all good here, mami? ‘’

He knows you heard him, even though you don’t turn to acknowledge him. He is surprised that your boyfriend does, scoffing as he looks him up and down. He is audacious, Arturo has to give him that. Does he think he’s safe in this house? Doesn’t he know who your friends are, who’s been paying for his drinks since he got here? Diego’s finger is pointing at him now, laugh dry and mocking. As if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

‘’ Him? ‘’ he says, ‘’ Him? ‘’

Arturo knows what he is implying, as if Diego wasn’t the one that was in the wrong, the one that had been fucking half the town behind your back. They had their suspicions in the beginning when you had started to run out of reasons for him not showing up to gatherings and birthdays. He knew he was right when Ramón told him you had given them five dollars for gas money and a few dozen eggs to throw at Diego’s apartment. He couldn’t believe it when he saw you with him the following week, acting as if nothing had happened.

Arturo’s attention turns back to you when you don’t answer, don’t bite into it like he thought you would. He can take a better look at you now that he is closer, inches away from the ledge. He sees the tears dancing on your lash line, your nails digging inside your palms, and he decides he hates it. He hates him. It must be horrible really, giving so much to someone so pathetic, having your words twisted back against you.

He tries to ignore how much Diego’s finger pointed at him bothers him. It is like a stab in the chest, a provocation, like he is making it personal. In a way, it is, he made sure of it the second he decided to belittle you like this in front of him. The thoughts of gripping his hand in his, crushing his joints- He blinks once, twice to shake the images out, and then he says your name again, an invitation now. Let’s leave this. Leave him.

‘’ You should leave. ‘’

Both sets of eyes turn to you as you speak up. Finally, he thinks. You are not asking, you are demanding, telling Diego his time here is over. Diego’s eyes twitch between you and Arturo’s side of the pool, he has to know he will lose if he tries to fight him. From the look of it, he is most likely smaller than him, unarmed. Arturo knows he only hangs out with them for the coke, maybe the small possibility of being one of them too, and then having you back in his bed after the parties. It breaks his heart to know you didn’t catch on to his bullshit before tonight. It is hot in his chest, a deep burn he can’t shake off, maybe it is jealousy.

Diego turns to you, as if your words meant nothing, like you didn’t just ask him to leave. His hand wrapping around your forearm as if you would follow him. The pool is the only thing keeping Arturo from jumping in between you two and sliding his hands around his throat.

‘’ Come on, let’s do this somewhere else. ‘’

‘’ Don’t touch me, Diego- ‘’

He can’t stand it, having to watch this asshole pretend he is still the one in control. Your upper arm is white from Diego’s grip and he can’t help how fast his hand goes to his back, feeling the gun tucked in his waistband with his fingertips. A reassurance that he could end this, here, right now. He will shoot him, he doesn’t care, five times if needed, as many times it would take for this idiot not to have a face anymore.

‘’ Are we gonna have a problem here? ‘’

He doesn’t stutter. It is a warning, his first and final one, spoken clearly in the open space between them.

‘’ Shut the fuck up, pendejo, can’t you read a room?! ‘’

‘’ Kitty… ‘’

You finally catch his eyes across the pool. Your voice is a warning, almost scolding him like a child, telling him to let you handle it, that you can take care of this. Can you? Should you? He notices the sparkles on your eyelids, the same color as your dress, the dried tears on your cheeks. He can’t be stopped, he doesn’t want to, he is too invested in this. Pendejo. Arturo doesn’t remember when he started moving, following the tiles around the ledge, opting to close his fists and take care of this naturally instead. If Diego wanted to play the tough guy, he would show him what it looked like.

He is halfway around the pool when you start moving, twisting in your heels. You grab Diego by the hair, using the momentum and his hold on your arm to push him into the pool. He is taken aback for a moment, stopping dead in his tracks, scared Diego’s grip on your arm will bring you into the water with him. But it doesn’t and you are tiptoeing around the edge, hands in the air, unmoving, like you just dropped something you shouldn’t have.

You yelp when the water splashes back on you, the bottom of your dress, your shoes. It shakes you out of it and you step back from the puddle of water at your feet. When Diego surfaces out from the deep, he is heaving, breathing through his nose, paddling around with both arms. A well-deserved swim, if he could say so himself, but Arturo is not even looking at him. He doesn’t matter, you do, and he only has eyes for you. He is not sure what to do now, he is surely not going to jump in the pool to finish this, who knows what chlorine would do to his Ralph Lauren shirt.

‘’ You’re a fucking bitch, Diego. ‘’

You laugh and it is music to his ears, loud, genuine. You are waving your hands around like you can’t believe this, free at last.

‘’ Stay the fuck away from me from now on, or he’ll shoot you. ‘’

You are pointing at him now, passing the eventual dirty work to him. Arturo knows you have never held a gun in your life, how you can barely accept those that are tucked in your friends’ jeans, but he would do it if you asked him, in a heartbeat, no questions needed. You push at the water on your thighs, probably wishing it would take the chemicals and the water out of the fabric. You turn to him, head thrown back, fists closed, like a child.

‘’ Look what he did to my shoes, Arturo. ‘’

You are whining and he is trying to pretend that his name coming out of your mouth didn’t make his knees buckle for a second. Eat him up and chew him out. You turn back to Diego.

‘’ They’re Versace you fucking bitch. ‘’

Your voice quivers on the last word, a small crack in an otherwise strong façade. Arturo’s hand moves from behind his shirt, leaving the comfort of the handle of metal at his back, motioning for you to come over. It is too cold tonight for you to stand outside, legs out for days, and a drenched skirt stuck to your thighs.

‘’ I’ll buy you new ones, mami. Let’s move before the fish comes out of his tank, yeah? ‘’

He is trying to be funny, but he can hear you sniff, see your hand raise from your side to wipe at your nose. He can understand how it’s too much, too fast now, adrenaline coming down, the cold seeping in.

When you turn his way and brush past him, his first instinct is to try and grab you, to be able to drape a warm arm around your shoulders, protect you when Diego couldn’t. It hurts him when you duck from his grasp, continuing your way to the door, but he swallows it and pushes down whatever angry, sad feeling is bubbling up in his throat. He chooses to follow you inside, follow what his guts tell him, and not take any of this personally. Easier said than done, but Arturo decides to focus on the sound of your heels against the tiles instead, to breathe in your perfume when he skips before you so he can open the sliding door for you.

You make a line for the kitchen and he is thankful no one stops you to ask what happened. Arturo follows your step, tall and burning behind you. You are holding back your tears, he can tell. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to make sure you are alright. Diego might be an ass, but he wouldn’t dare enter the sharks’ enclosure after that. If this was his house, he would turn around and drown the fucker with his own hands. Nothing he hasn’t done before.

‘’ I’m not crying. ‘’

It’s the first thing you tell him when you enter the kitchen with him, your new shadow, still hot on your heel. You are, and it’s okay, he understands, right? You are alone in the room, just you, him, the marble countertop between you as you turn and pace. You are rummaging through shelves, one hand whipping at your cheek while the other chooses a glass.

‘’ It’s not- this isn’t because of him. I’m not crying- ‘’

A sob leaves your throat as you open the refrigerator door. He feels bad now, his heart squeezing at the thought of your makeup sliding down your cheeks. Arturo leans on the door frame and he looks as you pull out juice from the open door, the other hand grabbing a bottle of tequila left on the counter. The amount you pour into your cup makes his eyebrows frown.

‘’ It’s alright. ‘’

‘’ It’s the shoes. I’m not crying. ‘’

The tears on your face do tell him that you are, that it is about Diego. He doesn’t deal with heartbreaks often, he usually never stays around long enough to feel it. He is a grown man, he never cries, he shouldn’t care, but he does feel better when you open the juice jug, pouring enough that he is not too concerned about how it would taste in the end. He speaks up again.

‘’ It’s alright if it’s not just the shoes you know. ‘’

‘’ You would really buy me new ones? ‘’

He raises his eyebrows at that and you are now pushing yourself up on the counter in front of him, crossing your legs, glass in hand. Your eyes are dry and red, but the glitter on your lids is still pressed to the skin, unmoved. He likes it, he decides, the shimmer suits you, it reminds him of the diamonds he has on a watch at home. You are looking at him, waiting for an answer. Like it would fix everything. Your Versace heels, he would buy you new ones if you asked, the same pair if you wished, an even more expensive one if you begged him to.

‘’ Por supuesto, mami. ‘’

I would shoot him too, let’s keep our word. He doesn’t tell you that, but the thought crosses his mind, throbbing inside his ribcage. The things he would do for you. Something changed tonight, inside of him, changed how he looks at you, how he really looks at you. You laugh at this and he is thankful, happy to hear the sound again. He hopes it means he is doing something good, something to make you feel better.

‘’ I’m just messing. They will dry, I was just being dramatic. ‘’

Rightly so, he wants to tell you, that he would have done worst for less, but he doesn’t, he laughs it off with you.

‘’ All good, mami, I go crazy for less. ‘’

You haven’t touched your drink yet, playing with the rim and the ridges on the side. It is a good sign to him, that whatever he is doing is working, heart being fixed, tears kept at bay. He feels awkward, standing there and looking at you, trying to keep his eyes away from tracing the curve of your legs, the idea of your nails wrapped around his neck-

‘’ You like shopping? ‘’

It’s quick, out of his mouth before he even processes it, anything to keep the silence from going on any longer.

‘’ What? ‘’

‘’ Well, I- ‘’ he stuttered, he never does. Tongue rolling in his mouth, words knocking his front teeth on the way out. Of course you like shopping, ranking bills for days, and matching your shoes with your tops, who wouldn’t? Right?

‘’ Well, because I do. ‘’ He feels like the dumbest person in the house. ‘’ I mean- I mostly look, I don’t always buy. It gotta fit with the rest, you know? ‘’

You hum, nodding with the sound. Your lips touch the rim of the glass, bringing silence back to the kitchen, and he feels like he fucked up. He had to open his big mouth and spill out some none sense. Maybe you don’t like shopping. Maybe you think he is taking too much space, that he should leave you alone-

‘’ Let me tell you a secret. ‘’ Your hands are back on your lap, playing with the side of the glass once again. There is a glint in your eyes as you lean towards him, like you are sharing a secret. Lips pursed, you are not whispering, but he feels like you are. A secret for him, only for him.

‘’ Sometimes it doesn’t even match, but I still buy it, I can’t help myself. ‘’

You have glitter on your fingers from when you wiped your tears off and he can’t take his eyes off yours, you are pulling him in and he takes a step closer as you continue.

‘’ I always think I can make it work, but after a while, I send it to my primas, so it’s not really a loss, you know? ‘’

‘’ You’re free Friday? ‘’

You hesitate a moment, barely a second, but it’s enough to make him self-conscious again. ‘’ Why? ‘’

‘’ Let me take you out. ‘’ Let me make this right. Make you forget him. ‘’ We can go en el centro. I don’t think they got Versace there, but they got nice options. ‘’

He shrugs his shoulders, already pretending that he is going to be okay if you reject him. He knows he won’t, that everything, every minute spent with you until today wasn’t a random twist of fate. He can feel it, feel you deep in his bones, there has to be something there. He can’t be wrong, you have to say yes.

Your fingers move in the space between the two of you and, since he is closer now, you can reach and hook a finger around one of his longer chains, moving the golden cross around so it catches the light.

‘’ Is Thursday too early for you? ‘’

He is flushed when you look back up at him, too stunned to speak, too hot and too cold at the same time. He has asked people out before, multiple times even, but right now, with you, he can’t get a grip, he can’t get himself to breathe and not be putty in your hands.

‘’ Not at all. ‘’ Is all he finds to say when he is brought back down to earth. Arturo can’t stop the smile that pulls at his lips, he can taste your perfume on his tongue. ‘’ Even better, mami. ‘’

#arturo kitty paez x reader #arturo kitty paez #kitty x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos mexico imagines #narcos mexico fanfic #bad bunny x reader

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writers-vlogx · 1 year

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Hi can I request a Rafa x reader? Where reader was kidnap by Rafa because he loves her in he's own twisted way and reader was able to escape but got in an accident where they hit their pretty hard and when reader wakes up reader doesn't remember anything in their life like amnesia and Rafa taking advantage of it in the end.

He had tried so hard to get you to love him, tried to make you understand and even after all that you didn't want him

Why? Please tell him why? Can't you see he's trying so hard to show you he's perfect for you, with him you would never wish for anything again.

So imagine the panic that set within him when he found the window to your room wide open and you no where to be found.

You didn't know how long you had been there, but it was definitely long enough to make your legs weak. You weren't used to running this far, especially when you didn't even know in what direction to go or where the hell you were at. Thankfully the adrenaline helped you stay alert and on your feet. There was no clear sign that showed you where you were and anywhere you looked everything looked the same. Trees everywhere, it was no use trying to find a difference so you turned in the first direction you faced and just kept running straight ahead

Meanwhile, Rafael was running out of the house, and anyone within a meter of him could tell he was fuming, angry, and yelling at the sky. He had grabbed his keys on the way out and started the car, rafa knew you were weak, he knew you couldn't have gotten very far and even if you did there was nothing for miles except a long road that was rarely used. In the worst-case scenario he could just shoot anyone that tried to help you and take you back.

You kept running and just a few minutes later you came onto a road, looking around you realized just how secluded this place was, there was a single road and no one in sight, but for whatever reason God must have felt pity on your poor mortal soul because not even a minute later you could hear a car approaching and as you ran towards it, the driver may not have been paying as much attention as he should because he hit the brakes too late. All you saw was black

When Rafael found you his anger shifted from you to the poor idiot who decided to hurt his love, everything he lived for. One bullet served enough and that was that.

...

Now we all know he has money and resources, so let's not fool ourselves. Would he be scared? Yes absolutely but would he bring over the best doctors in the country if he needed to? Also yes. And that exactly what he did, he brought the best doctors gave them the money and told them to shut up.

They fixed you in no time, you would be walking soon enough, after all they were the best.

And nothing like a gun pointed at your head to give you some good motivation.

So when he heard there was bad news he was about as ready as he'd ever been to shoot the doctor on the spot. But Felix held him back from it, that's right Felix knew about this little obsession of rafa and the only reason he had helped him continue his...hobby, is because he produced a good worker and it seemed like when you were around, Rafa had less time to get up to "Estupideces" and "Mamadas" as Felix liked to call it.

Either way, the doctors informed rafa that you would suffer from partial memory loss, how much? They were unsure but they would know once you woke up. And so Rafa's only hope at finally being loved by you was this.

When you eventually woke up, just as the doctors said, you didn't remember running away or the accident, instead blank spaces were where those memories should have been.

Rafael had been nervous all morning when he was informed that you had woken up, he was not ready to face you if you remembered but the curiosity was eating away at him, so he slowly made his way to your room and opened the door.

When he came in he wasn't met with that cold gaze you always gave him, the lifeless eyes you had like a bird in a cage. Instead, he was met with big bright eyes full of questions, and it was true you had questions because your memories were recollections of better times, times when you worked alongside Felix and Rafael in the business, times of the first few time Rafael tried to court you. But nothing else, no rejection, no struggles, and least of all, the lovesick man you had come to meet in your months of captivity.

You asked what happened, asked how you got hurt, aksed if he was hurt.

You were worried for him, worried for your partner, for your dear friend. He answered, he also asked what you remembered, did you know who he was? Of course, you did, you spent the evening answering every single doubt he could have had.

He didn't show it but he was happy, this meant he would paint the perfect picture for you, so he lied he told you of the life he had always dreamed to have with you, the life he had tried to make for you, the life he would make for you and you believed it.

You didn't feel this love he talked about but the way he described it sounded magical, and so you promised to try to remember, try to love, he promised to make you fall in love all over again to make you see just what exactly you had before all of this.

Let's just hope he doesn't fuck it up this time right?

Authors note- I'm sorry loves but I'm trying my best to be okay, a good thing is I'm finally getting to watch the show again, and let me tell you FELIX CONTENT IS COMMING SOON AND MAYBE POSSIBLY YOU GUYS CAN ASK FOR SMUT. I'll try my best to not fuck it up since I've never written it but even if I do, I worked hard on that meal and you will eat it 😌❤️ LOVE YOU GUYS AND I WILL SEE YOU WHENEVER I FIND A GOOD FELIX IDEA BYEEEE

#tenoch huerta #narcos mexico #rafael caro quintero x reader #narcos mexico imagine #rafa caro quintero #rafael caro quintero x you #narcos mexico x reader #narcos x reader #rafael caro quintero #rafa caro quintero x reader #rafael caro quintero x male reader #rafa caro quintero x male reader #male reader #yandere rafa caro quintero x male reader #yandere rafael caro quintero x male reader #yandere rafael caro quintero x reader #yandere rafa caro quintero x reader

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narcolini · 1 year

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five and one

rafa x gn!reader, 7598 words, canon typical drug use, hurt/comfort/angst, no happy ending(!!!)

the five times you were his friend, and the one time you weren’t

a/n: this has been in my docs waiting to be finished for sososo long omg finally the rafito despair is here. enjoy!

taglist: @ashlingiswriting @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas @cherixrosa @purplesong1028 @mandaloria314 @dashavau @yeetintomadness @thesandbeneathmytoes (as per i have forgotten who wants tagging and who doesnt sorry!)

Rafa’s been asking you for weeks. Come smoke, carnale, come on. I have something to show you.

Soon, you told him. I’m busy with school, work, I have to pick my Abuela up from church—I’m the only one who can drive her, remember?

They weren’t made up excuses, even if he thought they might’ve been. You didn’t like it either, having no time for him, but it’s how it went. How it is. He dropped out of school, never made it to college. You did. It gives you different markers now, different structures to shape the friendship around. When you were classmates it was easy, natural: before class, in class, after class. Simple. There you were, there he was. Now, you have to pencil him in like any other obligation.

He isn’t an obligation. You try not to let him feel like one.

‘Finally,’ is how he greets you, when you see him at last.

He’s come to you this time, to the place in the city that you’re sharing with your cousin, and another student on your course. He doesn’t comment on the mess, the mismatched furniture, the dishes, the piles of books and paints across the dining table. He just walks in, bag over his shoulder, then drops into the couch to unpack.

Something to show you, he’d said. Here it is. You’re sitting in the chair opposite, with a weed cutting in your palms, before he’s even bothered to ask about your day.

‘Looks like marijuana,’ you say, lifting the bud to your nose, ‘smells like marijuana.’

‘No, mira.’ He leans forward and reaches to put his fingers over yours, separating the green in front of your eyes. It splits, looks healthy. ‘No seeds,’ he informs.

Your brow arches. ‘None?’

‘None,’ he repeats, ‘never.’

‘It worked?’

‘It worked.’ He grins, all teeth. His hair bounces over his forehead. ‘I’m a genius, no?’

‘Dios mio,’ you laugh, ‘you actually did it, Rafi.’

The pride drips off him, pours over the coffee table between you and lulls at your knees like the tide. ‘Come on,’ he says, ‘you knew I would.’

You did, you’re smiling with him. It doesn’t stop you from teasing him about it, though. ‘I thought you’d smoke too many of the samples and forget what you were doing, tonto.’ You pass the cutting back to him. ‘Have you dried any of it yet? How’s it taste?’

‘Ah,’ he sighs, leaning back again, ‘that’s what you’re interested in? You don’t want to know how I got it to work?’

You give a half-shake, no. ‘You’ll tell me even if I don’t.’

He’s explained the idea enough times already, but it never sticks, it doesn’t connect in you, the way it does for him. It’s in one ear, out the other. He’s always been for it, science, statistics, experiments and the answers beneath; you’re one for art. Subjectivity.

Your foot finds his sneaker under the table and gives it a kick. ‘Puedo probarlo, o no?’

His free hand goes into his jean pocket, retrieving the tin that’s never far from his person. It’s made of a rusty, scratched copper, held together with a loose elastic band. He hands it to you without comment.

‘Is this from the first plant?’ you ask, watching him.

He shakes his head, brows pulling together briefly. ‘I wanted to perfect it before I showed you. Primo’s greenhouse is full now. Fifteen plants, como esto.’

The cutting you’d been examining goes down, onto the table, and then he brings another up. He’s brought a complete collection, kept them wrapped in newspaper and cradled until now, when he can finally show them off to you.

‘This was from one of the outside plants,’ he says. ‘I think the pinche güeys next door have their own. They must’ve pollenated my shit, look.’

You hum, acknowledging without really listening, and flip open his tin. A single, pre-rolled joint sits inside.

You flick your eyes across to him. ‘This is it?’

He nods.

‘You’ve already some today, haven’t you?’ You’re smirking as you ask, knowing the answer already.

Rafa laughs, pinching the sound short by biting into his lip. Then he shrugs. ‘What? I had to. I still brought you some, didn’t I?’

‘You’re gonna smoke it all before you make any money off it, Rafa.’

He’s going to get sick of it before anyone else can even try.

‘No, no, Miguel Angel knows what to do, how to take us to the next step.’ He says it confidently, hopefully. His eyes gleam at the thought. A purpose, he must think, direction at last. ‘My job,’ he says proudly, ‘is to make sure the product is good.’

You smile, infected by him, by the excitement glowing off of him. ‘You’re aiming high, then?’ You hum, nodding over the cuttings on the table. ‘The two of you?’

The newspaper crinkles as he rewraps, his eyes down like he’s suddenly humble, shy of it. Scared to admit the dream aloud. ‘Si, es solo el comienzo, sabes?’

Yeah, and it’s long overdue for him. The start and the end, because he’ll never have to invent another thing in the world, if this all goes to plan.

You put the joint between your lips and hold out a hand. ‘Pues,’ you prompt, ‘give me a light. Let me see the future.’

He sounds like he’s crying. It could be the line, it could be the fact it’s past three in the morning and you’re tired, barely awake, and he’s tired, barely understandable. It could be that he knows you wouldn’t judge him if he was. But it sounds like he’s crying.

No, he is crying, definitely. He sniffs, loud and wet, then draws in another gasping breath afterwards. Says something else about soil, earth, plants and lying scientists, fucking lying scientists. You blink against the dark, push the heel of your free palm into your eye sockets. Wake up, come on, wake up.

‘Have you tried digging elsewhere?’ you ask, hating that it comes out through a yawn, but you can’t help it. You only fell asleep a couple of hours ago yourself. ‘It has to be there somewhere,’ you add.

‘Yes,’ he rasps, ‘it should be there, the guy, pinche pendejo, he said, he, we have the maps—’

‘Rafa,’ you cut him off, ‘breathe.’ It isn’t a suggestion; he ignores it anyway. Rattles on about hard soil and sore hands still.

You sit upright, phone-cord stretching out of its coil, and hope that it’ll rouse you some more. He isn’t there to look at, but you pretend that he is. Imagine him sitting at the end of your bed, head in his hands, tears streaking down his cheeks. If he was, you’d reach a hand out. Run it along the ridge of his spine and watch him decompress. It’s easier to know what to say to him when you have him there, like that. Even just in your head.

You speak over him again, awake enough to put some force into the question this time. ‘Have you told Miguel?’ They’re partners, brothers. This is what he’s there for. ‘Can’t he help?’ you say, because you can’t, you’re miles away.

‘If I fuck this up,’ Rafa whines, ‘they’ll kill us.’

‘Who will?’

The line crackles. You hear a thunk in you ear like he’s struck the handset against the nearest wall. He has, no doubt, but it holds. The call stays connected and buzzing in your palm.

‘Easy, Rafi.’

You wish he was there, at your feet. You wish you could lean forward and shake his shoulders until he listened to you.

‘The plants are dying,’ he says, once he’s back on his end. ‘If we don’t find it soon.’

He cuts himself off with a groan of frustration, then another thick, ugly sniff, snotty and unpleasant even through the phone. You’ve seen him cry like this before. Once when he left school, once when his mum died.

‘And you’ve tried everything?’ you ask, just to keep him talking, just to distract him. ‘No water at all?’

‘We dug deep.’ He takes another heaving breath and then, on the exhale, when he speaks, he sounds more annoyed than upset. It feels like progress. ‘It’s like pinche steel,’ he says, ‘my arms…I can’t get through anymore. The workers are tired.’

You sigh. He’s sounding like he’s given up. He never gives up.

‘I can’t do it.’

‘You can,’ you insist. ‘You’ve just forgotten to use your brain.’

‘Ay,’ he sucks a hiss through his teeth, ‘el desierto, lo ha matado.’

The Rafa on the end of your bed is pacing now, stood up and tracing lines into your floorboards. Moving helps him think, it always has, the motion forces the idea to catch and roar into life, like starting an engine. You close your eyes and picture it. Another method, you decide, another method, another result.

‘Have you tried blowing it up?’ you ask plainly, still watching the false image of him behind your eyelids.

‘What?’ He laughs without meaning it. ‘Estás loco o qué?’

‘How do they make quarries, Rafa? How do they break through rock?’

You can hear it connect, weirdly, in the silence that follows. Hear the gears click, the brain turn. He takes a breath that stills his lungs properly this time, rather than stuffing them with desperate, needed air, then says your name like you’re a genius. Like you’re him.

‘I haven’t tried that, no.’ His voice lifts, he’s on the edge of smiling. ‘It can’t hurt, right? Una pequeña grenada?’

Now, it’s your turn to relax. He’s not crying anymore, he’s thinking, trying. It’s three in the morning and he’s back to himself again. You fall into the pillows with a sigh.

‘Don’t kill yourself, tonto.’

Don’t blow yourself to pieces for the sake of water, for the sake of Miguel and his precious sinsemilla.

He laughs down the line. ‘I’m dead either way, friend. Better I go with a bang.’

You’re a stranger now, as much as he tries to fight it. You don’t fit into the world he’s made for himself, or the one Miguel’s made for him, rather. You walk through his home like a guest, not a friend. You merge with the walls the way the staff does. Another set of footsteps in the mansion, another hand trailed up the banister in wonder.

He sends a car for you, because he can, when he has something to show you these days. Or something to ask, if it strikes him as important. Picks you up with just a warning phone call and a rush of, it’s fine, it won’t take all day. What do you need to go to work for, anyway? I’ve told you already.

He could find a job for you, he says. You could sit by his pool and earn money like it grows, right there, in the flowerbeds. You could live like he does, if you wanted.

No, Rafi, I like what’s mine. I like the quiet.

‘You brought me all this way,’ you say, once you’re standing in his bedroom, ‘to pick an outfit?’

You look at him, then back to the bed—four-poster, ridiculous, like something out of a movie. He’s got three suits laid over it, all matching, all expensive: white and red, blue with stripes, purple. Bright purple. You touch the fabric just to feel it. You’d never own anything this smooth, this well made.

‘I trust you,’ he says, ‘your opinion.’ He fidgets, digs a fingernail into the carved detailing of the bed frame. There’s white under his nostrils, you haven’t missed that, but you haven’t commented on it, either. At least he smells of smoke as well. At least he’s balancing it out.

‘What’s it for?’ you ask, like that’ll help you decide.

‘A girl.’

Your head twitches back to face him, quicker than you’d have liked it to—but, a girl? He’s not mentioned dating since he got fixated on weed, not in any serious way. Not to you.

He’s frowning as you look at him, his own gaze on the suits, like he’s tormented by the choice. Like they’re an equation to unwind. He hasn’t even noticed your reaction yet. ‘She didn’t take me seriously,’ he says, ‘last time. She made fun of my clothes.’

You let him continue. Your brain is still trying to scramble to the point where any of this makes sense.

‘Her father is el Secretario de Educacion.’ He sighs. His hands go to his hips. ‘I want to impress her.’

A new project, you realise, that’s what he’s found. Something he can’t have, something impossible. Something to solve. A drug lord with the daughter of a politician, Dios mio, he picks them well. This will be harder than growing plants with no seed, as dangerous as following Miguel into the dark.

You can’t get away with anymore silence, you have to act invested now, helpful still. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Sofia.’

He’s smiling and he expects you to returns it. You look back to the suits.

‘Sofia,’ you mutter, partnering it with a sigh. ‘Lucky Sofia.’

It’s something he would never do for you. Before today, you wouldn’t have imagined him doing it for anyone. He’s always worn what he liked, always put himself to the world exactly as he is, no apology, no polish. Just him, wild as he came. None of these suits feel like the Rafa you know. Or knew. They’re all the man you haven’t quite caught up to yet. The owner of this absurd pinche mansion.

‘Is she worth all this?’ You point at them lazily. ‘How much did this cost you, tonto?’

‘You sound jealous,’ he says, smiling, trying to pass it off as a joke.

You shrug. ‘You’re putting a lot of pressure onto one suit.’

If this goes wrong for him, you’ll be back in the car to his house, talking him through the downfall, as always, as he wants, as you oblige. If she laughs at him still, you’ll have to think of something to throw down and bring him back up to Earth.

You pick up the sleeve closest and toy with the cuff of it. ‘I’m trying to stop you from embarrassing yourself,’ you tell him.

‘Not what is seems like.’

Maybe not, but where’s the issue? You’re worried about the aftermath, the risk of more headaches down the line and, yeah, maybe you’re jealous too. Unlikely as you are to admit it aloud. You’re jealous of him, his success. His house, the clothes, the suits. The money that pours off him. The money he pours onto you in turn. Take it, he says, let me. It’s nothing. It’s nothing, have it. I want you to have it. Why can’t we both enjoy it now that we’re here?

Because it’s not yours, it’s his. He doesn’t get that.

And you’re jealous of Sofia, too. You wish you weren’t but you are. It creeps up to you, the longer you stand here, it crawls up your trouser legs, into your ears along with her name. She caught his eyes, his heart. You got the brain and everything else, but she has a part of him that he never shared with you. Never tried to.

It’s not yours, it’s his. It’s hers.

You’ve always been jealous of concretes, of things without leeway. You never took to it the way he did. Can’t keep yourself in one direction, can’t reach a conclusion and relish in it. He finds his track and runs it, right to the end.

‘You really think she’s special?’ you ask, redirecting him and yourself alike. It does nothing to think about it. What you could’ve had, what you never will. All that matters, is what there is, what you can hold.

‘There’s no-one like her,’ he answers, leaning his shoulder against the bed-post, ‘in all of the world.’

That’s how he is. Passionate. He fixates, he works, he wins. Loves with a tunnel vision that you’ll never understand.

‘The white, then,’ you decide. ‘It suits you.’

His eyes light up, his smile broadens. ‘Yeah? You think she’ll recognise it? Scarface?’

‘She won’t care, Rafa. Eres guapo. Te ves rico.’ And that’s what they like, girls like her. That’s what matters. ‘You be good to her, okay? Treat her right. She’s not someone you should mess around.’

He laughs, then puts his head to the wood. He’s looking at you fondly, through the thick of his lashes, and it itches, makes you drop the sleeve and step back from the bed.

‘You talk like you know her,’ he says.

‘I know you, Rafi. That’s enough.’

You didn’t know how bad it had gotten, until he tried to pull himself out of it. You should’ve realised really, or predicted it, should have taken more notice at his parties, should’ve seen the way his logic and rationality had sped up and burnt itself out. How his life had become a cyclone of Sofia, Sofia and drugs and Miguel. Round and round. How little it became about himself, or what he wanted. How close he’d stumbled to the edge without you waiting a step behind.

You heard from him less and didn’t challenge it. You didn’t ask, he didn’t tell, so you lived through the whispers of him. Maybe it’s time, you thought, maybe he’s outgrown you at last. Maybe this is the part where you don’t play catch up.

And then he’d stopped all together. Run out of track and hit the wall behind.

You weren’t there when it happened, you don’t know the details, only that he’d broken up with Sofia, and Miguel had broken up with him, in a way. Snipped ties worse than you had, ones with actual weight. Purpose. Structure that couldn’t afford to be pulled from under him. He lost his fields, you found out, lost his life’s work. Watched the dream collapse in front of him, at the hands of his closest friend.

Like he always did, Rafa saw it as a problem to fix, a cause with a solution that was within his grasp—always within his grasp. So now he was off the coke, too. Cold turkey and rotting from it.

It was Cuco that told you how unwell he was; on a clear day, blue and unfitting of the message, he asked you to come over. Ayudame, he said, I don’t know what else to do.

Tomorrow, you told him, it’s the soonest I can.

Today, when you get there, he looks scared; pale and tired and damp with old sweat.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ you say, and you regret it immediately, because he nods. He agrees. He’s the only one Rafa will let into the room.

‘It’s bad, man,’ he says. ‘Hallucinating and shit.’ He rubs at his neck, inches from the door like he’d been waiting for the excuse to. ‘I only called you because he started saying your name.’

‘Mine?’

‘Yours and Sofia’s,’ he corrects, ‘but he told me…’ He sighs, then shrugs. ‘I’m not allowed to call her.’

‘Entiendo.’ You don’t want more of an explanation. ‘Can I?’ You gesture to the closed door in front of you. They’ve shut him in like a beast, oiled mahogany set firmly between them and him, him and you.

Cuco nods and waves you forward. You can see a warning on his tongue, in the pinch of his brows. When he decides against it, shaking his head instead, you leave him in the hall behind.

‘Rafa?’

You push the door open, shut it again behind you. The room’s dim despite the light from the high sun, drawn into shade with thin, orange curtains. One of the doors to the balcony is open, its partnering drape curls into the room on the breeze behind. Everything done in an attempt to make the space feel relaxing, unconfined and airy and easy on the eyes, everything done without reward, because Rafa’s not here.

You scan the room again. The covers are twisted from the bed, half off the mattress and onto the tiled floor beneath. You follow the disarray. Photo frames knocked down and smashed, discarded bowls of untouched food, ash trays that haven’t been emptied. Clothes that have been torn off and left where they fell. It’s a den, a cage. Distress that’s been played out and abandoned afterwards.

The bathroom door’s open, the trail of clothes leading right to it.

‘Rafa?’ you call again, but the shower’s on; he won’t hear you over the water.

You pause a step in from the doorway. The mirrors are fogged, the tiles are wet with condensation. It’s been running long enough to make the room uncomfortable, damp and warm, more of a wet room than the stylised bathroom it was designed to be. Like walking into the overused swamp of a public swimming pool.

Rafa’s stood with his back to you, head under the stream. He’s naked, hair flat and dripping, with his hands against the wall in front. The water’s so hot, that it’s managed to anger the skin over his shoulder blades. The stretch marks up his back, from that growth spurt he had at fifteen, are angry looking, like they’re complaining too.

‘It’s me,’ you say, louder now.

His head lifts weakly. ‘Sofia?’

No, not her, only you.

You take off your coat, your shoes, your socks. Pile them all up on the dry floor behind. For a moment, you consider taking the rest off too, but you’ll try this way first. The shower won’t saturate you completely, if just for a minute.

‘Rafa, you should come out now.’ You’re standing on the edge of the shower basin, a towel from the side clutched in your hands. When he doesn’t move, you put it over your shoulder and reach in for him. ‘No quieres saludarme, amigo?’

He flinches at first, at your palm to his shoulder, then he comes to, peels away from the wall and toward you with ease. Slow, then all at once.

‘Easy,’ you coo, ‘easy.’

You put the towel around him as he turns, lift the edges to dry his face once he finally shows it to you.

It’s bad, it is. You don’t know enough about withdrawals to know if it’s normal. If he’s supposed to look like this, if it’s part of the process. You don’t know if it’s even the drugs at all, but you know him, and you know this is bad for him. Lights off in the fucking dark.

What if this is him now? What if this is what happened while you were away, and it’s set too deep to be undone?

He looks scared, more than anything. Tired and sickly, yes, but his eyes are wide, and lost, and then welling up as your name falls from his tongue. The recognition at last, the return of the friend you’re used to.

‘You have to help me,’ he says, ‘I can’t do it, I can’t.’

‘I know. I know.’ You step back with him, holding the ends of the towel close under his chin. ‘Let’s get you dry, hm? Get you dressed, get something to eat.’ That first, that for now.

‘I miss her,’ he rushes, urgent like you had to hear it. ‘Sofia, I have to see her.’

‘Okay,’ you tell him. ‘Okay, we’ll call her.’

It might be a lie, a false promise. You haven’t decided what’s right yet. What’ll help and what’ll make it worse. You just have to get him out of this foggy room, out of the towel and into something comfortable and warm.

‘I miss you,’ he says, in the same way. Desperate, quick, like he’s only got a few words left to give. ‘You know that, right? I miss you, too.’

You pause. Nod. If he was his usual self, he’d see right through the gesture, know that you were lying; saying yes just to say yes. But his teeth are chattering now. His eyes focus—in and out—on you, desperately. His hands layer over yours and the corners of the towel.

‘You won’t leave again?’ he asks, shaking the two of you. ‘You’ll stay until I’m better?’

‘Yeah,’ you tell him, because it’s true for now, even if his better is worse than he’s ever been before. ‘Yeah, I’ll stay as long as you need me, Rafi.’

He never comes to your house. He never comes to your house. So why is he here now? Pounding on your door and peppering the button until the bell can’t complete a full ring anymore. It just spits out one shrill note, over and over. You’re there within the first couple minutes of his assault, and he’s acting like you’re late still, like you’ve kept him waiting. He doesn’t even let you say hello first, but pushes past you into the hall instead, like there’s a dog going for his heels. Nipping the tendons.

‘Jesus, Rafa,’ you scold, shutting the door behind him. ‘You forget your manners, cabrón?’

When you turn, he’s wild looking, eyes big and pupils swollen. High, you assume. He grabs your hands before you can comment on it. Both of them together, pinned into his damp palms.

‘What are you…’

‘I need you to trust me,’ he says. ‘No questions, okay?’

You take him in again. He’s erratic, fidgety, his shirt is done incorrectly—one button left at the bottom, one side longer than the other. So, he’s dressed in a hurry, driven in a hurry. Rushed to your door with an urgency you can’t grasp onto yet; it slips through your fingers, like him, like what you had. Scatters in the hallway like dropped ball-bearings. You can’t catch him like you used to.

‘Did something happen?’ you ask, bringing your gaze back to his face. ‘Are you in danger?’

‘No,’ he answers, too quick, all breath. His head shakes. ‘No, no, we just have to go away for a while.’ A smile. White teeth and false promise. ‘Okay?’

Not in danger yet, he means. Not if he’s fast enough.

‘We?’ You take a step back, pulling your hands free with a struggle, and he follows; you turn, head into the living room, and he tracks behind you still. ‘Rafa, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done, but—’

‘Me and Sofia will go first,’ he says over you, ‘then I want you to come. Okay? Te necesito demasiado para—’

And now you cut him off, turning back to him quickly. ‘Me? Me come with you?’

He nods, hair bouncing.

‘Come on, Rafi.’

‘Why not? Only for a while.’

‘Do you even realise what you’re asking?’ you ask, pointing a finger to his chest, pad to the stitching across his shirt. Spirals over the collarbone. ‘Have you actually stopped to think? I have a job, Rafa, a life. I’m not involved in your,’ your search for the word, the title of all his erratic decisions: adventures, war, ‘bullshit.’ Yeah, that fits.

‘Why?’ he asks, as he always does. Why won’t you let me help you? Why can’t I share this with you? ‘This isn’t like the other times,’ he adds. ‘It’s. It’s.’

‘Life or death?’

He scoffs, too dramatic to be natural, or innocent, then turns away to hide from the fact. Trying to compose himself, no doubt. Plan another lie. He thinks you don’t see the warning signs, the flaming lights behind his eyes. ‘No, just,’ he winds back to you, ‘please. You can’t trust me?’

You puff a hot breath out of your nose and allow the moment to still before trying again.

‘Have you planned any part of this, or did you do too much coke and come here on a whim?’ you ask evenly. You’re not judging him, but you have to know. Fear or drugs. It’s one of the two. You stare at him afterwards, waiting for an answer.

Then he looks down, and you look down, and you see that he’s brought a set of tickets from somewhere, clutched in his hand now, and is waiting to present them to you.

‘No mames, Rafi.’ You laugh flatly, head shaking as you take a step back, like the space will make your message clearer. ‘You thought you could show up with tickets and I’d leave? Just like that? Leave everything and follow you to,’ you pull his wrist up to read, ‘Costa Rica?’

He hesitates, chews the words into his bottom lip before admitting, ‘Well, yeah. It’s all paid for, carnale.’

You scoff.

‘You only have to get on the plane.’

Just get in the car, just come to the house, just pick up the phone. You roll your eyes and push the tickets back into his stomach. It’s too much, this time. This is something he can fix for himself. Whatever it is doesn’t have to involve you for once. ‘I’m not going,’ you tell him.

He catches your arm before you can turn. ‘Okay, okay,’ he says, and the break in his voice is enough to make you wait. ‘It’s important. Serious. I have to leave for a bit.’

‘Why?’

His chin twitches. You don’t need to know.

‘And Sofia…?’

‘She wants to come with me,’ he answers. ‘And I want you to come too, once it’s safe.’

You eye him. He’s smart still, it’s always in there, under all the shit, so there must be a logic to it. There must be some formula he’s got in mind, right? You just aren’t seeing it. You aren’t built the way he is. ‘For how long?’ you ask.

He laughs, shrugging. ‘As long as you want. About time you had a vacation, no?’

But that’s not the point, is it, primo?

‘I don’t like this, Rafa. This, this shit.’ You shake your head, force a deep breath. You can’t be considering this, you can’t. ‘It’s not me,’ you argue, it’s not you. ‘This is too far.’

‘I know, I know.’ His hands come up again, fussing. The tickets bend as he takes you by the shoulders. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

But what are you even agreeing to? What does he need you for, when he’d have Sofia with him already? Why would you go if he was going to—

‘You aren’t coming back, are you?’ It comes out as you realise it. He wants you to follow him there, because he might never come back, he might not be able to. ‘Is that it?’

You watch his gaze drop, his chin lower. His stomach pouches slightly as he slackens with the confession. No hiding now, Rafi.

‘Yeah,’ he admits, before pushing a palm into the front of his hair, fingers scraping, ‘maybe. I don’t know how it will go.’

And now the dread’s setting in. Rooting in your heels, the back of your neck. Things have never been this way before, not even close. ‘You know I can’t follow you, right?’ you say quietly. ‘Even if I come, for a little while, I can’t run with you forever.’

He nods, slight enough that you almost miss it. ‘I know.’

‘And if I do come, you can’t ask me again. To follow you. You can’t expect it of me.’

‘Yes.’ A step toward you. ‘Of course, entiendo.’

You’re losing the fight to deny him. He said two weeks until you go, más o menos, so you have time to sort something with work, if you want to. And what’s two weeks in Costa Rica after that, even if it is a goodbye? There are worse places for this to meet its end. One final time, you could show out for him just one final time, and then put it to bed. No more friendship, no more relying on you to pile up the bricks again. If he can’t come home afterwards, then you will, alone, and he’ll be free to take on the world. All by himself. Just as he wanted to.

‘Promise you’ll pick up if I ring?’ he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes. He’s sincere, pleading almost. He needs it, he needs you.

You nod.

‘And that you’ll meet me there.’ He taps the tickets you still haven’t taken from him. ‘Two weeks from now. We’ll meet you at the airport, okay?’

‘What if they find out where you are?’

A laugh you don’t like twitches out of him; he isn’t taking it seriously. He doesn’t realise how easy it is to fall yet, how close he is to the sun. ‘They won’t,’ he says. ‘Why would they? I’m nobody out there.’

He’s never been nobody anywhere. Even before all this shit.

‘They’ll think we’re on our honeymoon,’ he goes on, ‘and then me and you, and Sofia, we’ll go somewhere else. Somewhere new.’

‘And then I’ll come home,’ you add. He’s already talking like he’s forgotten, like he thinks you’ll follow him across the globe, one step behind as always. ‘And you will too, if you can,’ you prompt.

He nods, quick and unconvincing. ‘Por supuesto. Just as you say.’

You don’t believe him any more than he believes it himself.

‘Your pockets,’ the man instructs, without even looking at you. He’s looking over you, past your shoulder. Waiting for you to empty what’s in your jacket without so much of a hint that he’s talking to you in the first place. ‘Into the tray.’

You scoop out your car keys, your lighter. The cinema ticket from a couple weeks ago. Put them all into the plastic tray on the low counter beside you, obliging because there’s no choice. When you stand straight again, he mimes for you to put your arms up and out, so you do, and then begins to pat you down, all without really looking at you still. Eyes always elsewhere, head always titled slightly away, like he’s bored. Kind of like he hates to even be near you. He pats along your arms, then under them, over your chest and down your sides, over the jeans, your thighs—

‘Clear.’

You wait. Arms out still. He steps back.

‘Can I…?’

His head bobs up and down, a forced nod, as he grabs the tray of your things and pushes it toward you. You just about catch it before he lets go and steps around to face the person waiting behind you. His next unfortunate victim, good luck to them.

Why you agreed to this, you don’t know. Well, of course you fucking do, because that’s how it goes every time, isn’t it? Rafa calls, you come. Rafa needs help, you save the day. Rafa gets himself fucking arrested, and here you are, going through security in the mangiest looking prison you’ve ever seen, and never thought you’d step into, getting patted down for entry by a guard who looks like he’d spray you down with bleach if he wasn’t on camera. Just because you’re here, and someone you love is in there, waiting behind the bars. The association alone is more than enough for him to judge you.

And maybe he’s right to. Maybe everyone worth something would be smart enough to say no to this.

You never made it to Costa Rica, he got caught before he even had the chance to ring and give the all clear. The tickets are on your bedside still. Not that you’d even decided to use them; you were waiting for the call, to see what your gut would say once the exact moment of it came, and then it never did. And you watched the arrest on the news until your gut said to turn it off, so you listened then, instead.

They got Sofia too, and she sold him out like the criminal he is, without hesitation, confirmed his name without even weighing the options—you know, because that’s what he told you on that first call he was allowed. No hi, no apology. He spoke for two minutes before you even opened your mouth.

I’d have done the same, you said to him. Lying would’ve made it worse.

Not for him, of course. He’d reached the end of that rope. It would’ve made things worse for her, tagged her into the downfall alongside him, so it’s good that she avoided it. She stands a better chance of a future having done it.

She probably told them where I was in the first place, he said, though he didn’t mean it. It was all anger. Hurt. Liquid regret pouring through the handset. No-one knew we were there, carnale. Fucking no-one.

But it could only ever have been him that got himself into something like this. It was, every time, it was. He made every decision that led him to this moment, to this place. To this dingy visitors room with indoor picnic tables, and steel hoops for cuffs to be attached in the centre of them.

I’ll come see you, you said and you left it at that. The rest has to be done in person. You at least owe him that mercy, after everything. You’ll look him in the eye to say it.

In the doorway, you’re greeted by a less indifferent guard. He sits his clipboard on his curving stomach and asks for the prisoners name, looking at you, then your name, still looking at you, then ticks you both off and nods for you to continue into the room. He even smiles as he does, just a bit. It’s in the corners of his mouth as a gesture of goodwill.

You thought that maybe you’d have to search for him, but it mustn’t be a busy day for visitors. There’s a full table to your right, father, mother, kids. Food unwrapped and shared over the top of it. A couple are huddled over another in the far corner, as close to kissing as you assume they’re allowed, hands locked, noses tip to tip.

And then there’s Rafa, right in the middle.

He’s looking at you already, facing the door, expectant. He’s smiling so big that you catch onto it immediately, unintentionally. You shoot your own smile back at him before remembering why you’re here in the first place. It wasn’t the plan to come in like this was any other, normal reunion, like you’re seeing him after an impromptu vacation. The plan, was to be a friend to yourself, for once. You set your mouth back into the line firm you’d practiced with.

‘You look well,’ you admit, as you sit across from him. ‘Was expecting you to look like shit, Rafi.’

He laughs, unfazed, and goes with rattling wrists to hold your hands briefly. ‘I’ve been counting down the hours, carnale.’

You watch his hands over yours. The cuffs on his wrists, the chain between them and the hoop on the table that they’re welded to. This is the first time ever, really, that he’s been pinned down in one place, trapped with nowhere to go. The first problem he’s faced that he can’t think his way out of. It’s as unbecoming of him as you’d expect it to be.

‘I can’t stay long,’ you tell him.

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind.’ He’s smiling still, shaking his head likes it’s nothing. ‘I’ve been going fucking crazy in here,’ he says, ‘not even Neto wants to talk to me.’

‘Neto’s here too?’

You’ve met him before, of course. He isn’t a character you can forget easily.

Rafa nods. ‘They’ve separated us now.’

‘Why?’

‘Ahh…’ he sucks a breath through his teeth, winds his head away then back again, ‘es basura, he hates me, or something. Told the guards I’d kill him in his sleep.’

You raise a brow, a would you? brow. He just laughs.

‘Pinche viejo is paranoid,’ he explains. ‘Wants this place to be his kingdom.’

‘And you can’t have a kingdom with two kings, right?’

When he laughs this time, you join him, and again, for a minute, you forget what you’re here for. You let it stand. Just us, for a moment longer, Rafi. Peace before the storm.

He sighs on the come down, lifting his hands until the chain is taut. ‘Pues, qué clase de rey es esto, hm? Si Mama pudiera verme ahora.’

You nudge him under the table, your sneaker against his prison-issued pants. ‘She’d tell the guards they aren’t feeding you enough, flaco.’

A smile, another in return. Time to get it over with. He doesn’t know it—or maybe he does, maybe he’s always known—but he’s sanding back your conviction, as usual, one grin at a time.

‘Mira, I should tell you, Rafi.’ You cough, then look down to fiddle with the already scratched skin by your nail-bed. Say it. Say it. ‘I won’t come again.’ There.

‘What?’

‘After today…’

Your throat dries. You’d rehearsed it in the mirror; it wasn’t the same as speaking over the table in front of you. Honestly, you’d hoped you would at least have some glass between, you were counting on it, even. Something for his reaction to bounce off. Instead, it strikes you directly now, clear and targeted, hurt from his face right onto yours.

‘I won’t visit you,’ you manage. ‘Anymore.’

The tourists in the cantina, the university professor. The fucking DEA agent. How did you overlook all of that? The cocaine, Sofia, fleeing to Costa Rica. He’s been souring since he’d swapped you for Miguel, himself for the business. Been gone before you’d even realised. You’ve spent all this time trying to stitch him back together, keep the body whole, keep the motor running, and he was already a ghost. Gone through the fucking cracks. You were just too sentimental to see it, too loyal to the kid you’d met at the end of the street.

‘You won’t see me after this,’ you reiterate. ‘I should have done it a long time ago, but this is it, Rafi, this is where I get off.’

No more phone calls, no more cars sent for you. No more advice on things you had no right to be speaking on in the first place. This, is where you draw the line. You can’t put everything on hold and wait for him now. There’s a life for you outside of him. Outside of this.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ he says again, as dumbstruck as the first time. ‘Why?’ He leans forward and there’s a lingering smile behind his voice, an edge of disbelief. ‘It’s over now, I’m done.’ He thinks he’s invincible still, even at the end.

‘It’s always been about you, Rafa,’ you push, looking at the table instead of his hope, ‘every time, it��s all about you. I can’t do it anymore. I have to…’

He goes for your hands but you pull away. It doesn’t deter him. ‘You finally have me back,’ he says. ‘After I’m out, we do whatever you want, okay? No more shit.’

You shake your head. ‘I won’t wait, Rafa.’

He laughs, a hollow, limp sound. ‘It’s not like I’m asking you sit around doing nothing, carnale. Come on, you can’t spare a few hours a week to see your oldest friend?’

The silence can answer him this time. You let it work through the gaps, dowsing the humour he’s clinging to.

‘What?’ he continues, sounding anxious now. ‘You want to get married and move away, or something?’

‘Rafa…'

It’s starting to sink in. You can’t look at him, can’t watch it turn over in his head. The corners of his mouth dropping, the pinch of his brows. You can’t look. False woodgrain in the plastic table. His shoulders. His eyes. The chains between his wrists clatter as his arms go slack.

‘You won’t even call?’ he asks.

‘No.’

Maybe. Maybe on birthdays.

‘I shouldn’t,’ you tell him. ‘It’s better this way.’

He scoffs. It’s a sour enough sound to make you wince. ‘For who?’ he asks. ‘I need you in here, I’ll go crazy, I’ll—’

‘For me, Rafa.’ That’s the point, the whole point, and still he doesn’t get it. ‘It’s better for me, and I have to do it.’

And he has to let you. He said he wouldn’t ask again, wouldn’t expect you to follow him everywhere he went. Just because he’s stuck in one place now, doest mean you have to be too. One of you deserves a win, right? You won’t serve time on his behalf.

‘I’m sorry.’ You say it to the side of his face because he isn’t looking at you, won’t look at you. ‘Maybe something will…’ No, you stop yourself, put the wheel straight again. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve said something earlier. Long ago. I shouldn’t have waited until now.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You never let me—’

‘Well, if it’s my fault,’ he shrugs, ‘what else is there to talk about.’ He spares a moment to flick his eyes in your direction—and they betray him. Show the child behind the face. ‘Go,’ he says to the wall again, ‘you don’t want to be here.’

You don’t, and if this is how he wants to be, then fine, conversation over. Cloth cut from the body at last.

When you stand, he’s looking away still, with his forearms crossed over the table—awkward, but it’s what the cuffs allow—and you won’t say goodbye to the cheek of him, so you don’t say anything else at all.

You’ve found your track, now it’s time to run it, right to the end. Just like he would.

#rafa quintero x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico #rafael caro quintero x reader #rafa caro quintero

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thesolotomyhan · 1 year

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a/n: orale pues para aguantar el hambre,, a small post tonight+unedited (i wanted to get something out sorry guys) but here we are again because we're just going to ignore that i made another disappearance heh but for this work, i just randomly handpicked some thoughts :) and wrote a little something because i felt inspried but for mis other amores im currently working on those thoughts (esp. all you rafa lovers :) ) i just want to marinate them lol and not lose my motivation, but this is similar work to what i did with all those mayo asks long ago and i felt like i could do that with these thoughts so vamonos - ill be back soon :))

how he sleeps / cuddles with you

weyyyy :( me puse toda emocional y casi llore- llore a imaginarme de esto :(

I just feel like his overall relationship aatachment to you would just downright fucking reflect on the way he sleeps with you if you catch my draft

Because I’m just going off of a gut feeling and the hc i made for him a while back but :(

mi hombre todo enamorado y chisquiado por ti would not want an inch- a millimeter away from you when he sleeps :(

so when it comes to sleeping with you , este mero hombre would love to have your back pressed up against his chest, like him being the big spoon and shit :(

it’s the most easiest access he has to have no space in between the two of you

it allows him to hold you as tightly as possible against him, your soft figure enveloped under his hold

ay no- his face just buried in your soft hair , it’s the scent he falls asleep to and wakes up to and i just - :( wow?

one of his arms under you , would not care if said arm falls asleep or is sore in the morning because he’s happy doing it at whatever cost

his other arm i just picture would be wrapped around your waist or stomach holding you back against him :(

or get this,, one of his hands choosing to hold yours, fingers intertwined and todo :( idk why picturing that gives me the softest lovey dovey vibes :(((

it also just,, gives him the “security” that you won’t leave (even tho you won’t) and if you even try to get up in the morning it wakes his ass up to and !!!

your sleeping positions could literally be titled “cuddlie session” if you wanted it because there is no other position he likes,,

He’ll sleep like un pinshe train wont wake him up just as long as he has a hold on you ,, like i imagine this mf wouldnt conformarse with one single hand holding your own,, thats too distant for this mans taste on sleeping

He has to like,,, physically hold you enterita

so the positions that immediately come to mind is with you sleeping on his chest,, his arms securing you against him or with your back to his chest,, his arms holding you back against him and practically squeezing you into him

or just something in that realm really but eso si

and sleeping on chest? sorry i didn’t go into that but here we go

because like ? it’s another security for him

it allows him to kind of basically scoop you into his chest,, his arm would be like wrapped around your shoulders and holding you against him

loves to have your head rest in his chest,, quite literally him being your personal pillow and i just feel so soft to that idea

and i just feel like his heart fucking thumps,, dumb smile adorning his face as he falls asleep when either one of your hands is splayed on his chest,, or like wrapped around his torso if you know what i mean

both of your legs and his just a tangled mess,, wanting to be as close as possible to each other

or :) his other hand that’s not wrapped around your shoulders,, i just imagine him bringing that said hand to pull one of your legs to wrap around his torso and just hold it there :(

i can also just imagine him once again burying his face into your hair as he falls asleep :) and i just - hn

also not me imagining that on some days ,, one way or another he might wake up with his own head laying on your chest,, arms wrapped around your torso,, with one of your hands gently waking him up because you’re softly playing with his chinitos y ayy no , no me miren

just overall? give him access to hold you entera ,, aginast him,, all the above answers you can think of because that’s the only way this man can sleep

christmas with rafa

i have to say i quite literally let out a small giggle when i read this lmaoooo

and its all because the first thing that popped into my mind was that one scene in s1 where pinshe cuco and chapo got him that fucking tree when he was sent into “hiding” and hearing him go “mi arbolito de navidad” jaja

pero getting myself collected now- la navidad is being with your loved ones right?

pues aggaranse because this man will do christmas like a religious event -

es la mas bonita temporada and to be spending it with you? heh you bet your ass he goes out with it

i imagine he really kind of gets into it almost? like he will be down to decorate whatever and wherever your little heart desires and as he sees fit :)

like you want the biggest tree he can find? you bet his ass is finding out where that shit is in the next hour ,, ready to be put up

like not me feeling my heart gush over the thought of him being excited? to put up like the ornaments on the tree but with you ,,

like even if it takes 6 hours or some ridiculous amount of time to decorate the tree ,, it’s spent with laughter from the both of you,,, besos a cada rato,, strategically planning out where the next red ornament should go or something and :((( weyy

and i say “ridiculous amount of time” because even if your putting like the garland on one of the windows or something ,, it take the both of your hours to do it because he just wants to tocarte even if it’s holding you because esta enamorado mi niño

like :( randomly coming up behind you to hug you or something :( his face buried in your neck and just telling you un “te amo mi reina” :( JUST BECAUSE HE FEELS LIKE IT

:(( and not me imagining you turning around and wrapping your arms around his shoulders telling him the same thing back :( y alli se la pasan todos embobados del uno al otro :(((

feel like he’s always telling you “ahora que mas :)” with that dumb smile he does because he wants to keep going and turn your damn house into something from a christmas movie

i feel like he’ll definitely cover the higher places where you can’t reach to decorate and have your eyes tell him where it’s perfect and all

and hnnnnng !!! :( i defintly feel like he praises every little decoration you both complete even if it’s small or big :(

like him leading you to take a step back and just admire your work after it’s done and just going “nos quedo bonito “erdad” :( dopey smile on his face and all

or something like “mira nomas, hacemos un buen equipo, no crees mi amor” :(

as he just holds you from behind ,, his pinshes ojos lighting up as he looks at both of your work :(

:((( stop im sorry,, but imaging you having one of your hands resting on top of his arms that are around you and leaning your other hand behind you to hold his neck/side of his face

turning your neck to look at him behind you and smiling at him like “si verdad? te amo” and i CRY BECAUSE THE SOFT ASS LOOK HE WOULD GIVE YOU ?? his big ass smile getting in the way of him leaning down to kiss you mmm BYE don’t touch me

my status? currently pulling strands of my hair because i just imagined that he definitely takes fucking pictures of the two of you :(( todos contentos, or besandose , either in front of like the tree or something like that

because he definitely saves and glues them onto his photo album with you (iykyk) :((

loL sorry but i can for sure see him not shutting about this day to like cuco or bothering neto with it jaja

like cuco would listen to him even if it wears his ears off ,, just fueling rafas emotions more because he finds it interesting

just rafa finding himself nonstop gushing about you and his day with you

but if neto was there ,, todo pinshe amargado i can definitely see him like slowly but rapidly loosing his cool if rafa doesn’t shut it soon lol

like he would probably let him go on for a maximum of 30 minutes if it’s a good day

but if he sees that rafa won’t put a lid on it soon i can just see him slamming something down near him,, and looking at rafas direction todo encabronado like “chingada madre rafa, ya callate me vale madres tu y la navidad”

jajaj def making rafa all “mad” and returning the same energy back like “pinshe amargado”

ayy no -

movie night with rafa

now listen up -

i had this mentioned in my first rafa headcannon and as i received this today,, wow am i glad whoever this was understands me on this perspective because yeS movie nights???? Is like a regular occurrence for him to do with you fight me

and im just glad someone finds that vibe as well :)

because yeah - refreshing some points,,, i feel like he goes out on things like this as well

just the whole decorating fiasco,,, him definitely remembering to get all your favorite snacks y antojitos

this man might have as well just bought the entire store just so the both of you can have the variety to choose from on what you want to snack on ya know

and yeah exactly as you said,, i feel like he definitely makes the enite place comfortable,, pillows and blankets scattered for you to chose from

the place might as well look like one of those fancy movie theathers (lol), but with his touch so that it’s all comfy y toda la cosa

and with this variety theme going on,, it for sure applies to your guys choice in movie(s),, because this mf would have like a stack to chose from lol

like his pinshe sonrisa is looking over at you as he walks into the room to show you all the different movies, like”mira mi amor, que se te va antojar a ver?” dopey smile on his face as he sits down in front of you on the floor :(

like just flipping through genres and shit- peliculas de horror or action ones ,, but his excitement is there just letting you go through them and choosing between the two of you which one you both want and feel like doing :(

stop not me imagining him giving you that wide smile he does when you pick out a movie :( and just him nodding his head,, moving to get up to put it in to play but before he does,, he just kisses you really quickly and i dont know why that made me melt :(

hnnng :( the two of you snuggling into each other on the ground,, i imagine like,, both of your guys back leaning against the foot of the couch i dont know why but yeah

snack sharing for sure happens,, no way around it,, and its either like the snack,, like palomitas or something is in between the two of you and your both sharing it like that

or if its like a small snack like,, fruta de vaso ya know,, one of you is feeding the other :( m

sorry but not sorry but he give me the same vibes as ramon in a sense, i know you guys remember that scene with ramon on his cartoons,, like laughing out loud and just going “mira mira” at something funny coming up ,loud ass laugh filling the room when said scene happens, i feel like rafa does the same shit if you guys were watching some cartoon or a funny movie ya know ? pinshe pure and heartmelting vibes sorry

and listen i dont know why but i can see some soft shit like this happening where either your movie turns boring or during intermission when youre both choosing your next movie pick

where i can see you both throwing popcorn at eachother,, tyring to catch them and just the whole house filling up with your guys laughing because of the different distances youre both throwing popcorn at each other or something and i just :(((

but movig on,,, he definitely zones in,, and i mean zones in when it comes to him watching movies,, like nothing tears his eyes away and that a sight you are guaranteed to see if you look at him :(

something i want to share is that your positions would for sure change either throughout the movie or when youre both going to watch another movie,, like instead of sitting side by side :( maybe him moving you to sit in between his legs :( so he can wrap his arms around you,, letting you lean back on him like a pillow y ayy no :( that makes me shatter

or even the both of you movig to lay down on the ground,, your head on his chest as he hold you to him by wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders :( a literal cuddles session if you will

and ughh i feel like the two od you dont ever move out of this space,, even well after maybe your chosen movie has ended or youre both halfway through some other movie at like 2 in the morning,, but you both definitely fall asleep against each other after these movie dates, nomas quiren estan pegaditos :(

general taglist: @coaxium-captain-rex @visintaes @sheeshgivemeabreak @artemiseamoon @wtfisgoingonlol @boomclapxox @carlislecullenisadilf @ashlingiswriting @fleurfatale89

let me know if i forgot you or if you want to be added to anything!

#narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #rafael caro quintero #rafa caro quintero #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico imagines #rafael caro quintero x reader #rafa caro quintero x reader

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ashlingnarcos · 10 months

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blood on vacation

David Barrón/F!Reader

written for @narcosfandomdiscord's smut alphabet, namely the July 2 prompt blood

tags: fistfight, absolutely unhinged preoccupation with bloody knuckles, fingering, oral sex

warnings: blood, probably unsanitary, reader is an OFC (Sabrina Tanaka), violence, this was not beta read and it kind of sucks ngl

length: 1.8k words

You’ve only been Mexico City for a week, and you’re already all vacationed out. It’s not Marcela’s fault. The two of you make no sense as friends—she, the trust fund kid formerly known as Marcelo who initially met you at your dad’s jiu jitsu academy, currently partying her way across the globe with an increasingly dodgy set of cousins, exes, and assorted other rich vagabonds, and then you, the standoffish sparring tutor forever known as Mr. Tanaka’s kid, with an unhealthy penchant for taking your skills to street wanderings, just to see if you could. She was whimsical and merry, spiritually curious and given to bouts of dangerously committed romantic pining, and you were stolid and practical and highly suspicious of anyone as eager to please as a car salesman, much less a preacher or supposed future lover. The one similarity between the two of you is that you both were born and raised in São Paulo, and could both kick hard enough to break bones. But the rest? Pure opposites attract chemistry.

She’s been generous on this trip, doing the rich girl thing in splendid style, and footing the bill for your part completely. She translates for you whenever she sees you getting lost—Brazilian Portuguese is similar enough to Mexican Spanish that you can kinda sorta understand what people are saying if they’re saying it slowly and doing overtime with the nonverbal cues—and does it naturally, not like it’s a chore or an opportunity to show off. She introduces you to her club kid friends with excitement, like she’s showing them someone really cool. She’s a sweetheart, Marcela is, and you’re more than happy to wingwoman her into a spot sitting on the lap of some baby narco named Ramón. But the good food aside, you’re still so alienated and bored that when a fistfight breaks out in the club, it come as a welcome change of pace.

There’s broken glass on the ground—Ramón’s older sister smashed a bottle over somebody’s head, good for her—so no ground fighting for you. And there’s too many people around to dedicate yourself to a hold. So you fall back on a motley bag of street fighting tricks, plus what you learned from a misspent summer at a boxing club, mostly just trying to stay upright and get your licks in where you can. It’s all fun and games until one of them slaps you, open palm. A punch would’ve been fine, but this? You hit his nose with the base of your palm, driving up to break it, then follow that up with a jab. Not satisfied yet, you sweep one of his feet out from under him, shove hard, and finally get him on the ground (broken glass be damned) in a hold that has him gasping fruitlessly for oxygen, his neck in the crook of your arm, his body trying to wriggle round and find an angle at which his elbow shots to your ribs will actually mean something. Unfortunately for him, when you’re pissed off, you could take it all the way to fully broken ribs and not care. Fortunately for him, nobody there actually wants anyone to die, so after a bit, several people pull you off him. One of them is Marcela, so you give it up. The fight has died down anyways; both sides are separating into bloodstained, wary-eyed groups.

Keeping steady eye contact with the man who slapped you, you lift your bloody-knuckled hand to your mouth, part your lips, and lick a long stripe of his blood off your skin. Slow and intentional and savagely self-satisfied.

As you turn to talk to Marcela, ask her where the bathrooms are so you can clean yourself up a little (Ramón is already yelling about partying the whole night through, and Marcela seems completely unruffled, so you doubt you’re all about to leave now), you catch a glimpse of something. Everyone here is preoccupied with their injuries, or other people’s, or the retreating crowd of interlopers, except for one man who seems to have witnessed your last threat. He’s dressed a little different than the others, in an oversized polo shirt. You remember getting a glimpse of him in the fight, thinking you might need to take him on next and grimly assessing that prospect as a dangerous one before he easily elbowed a guy who was heading for Ramón’s brother. So he’s not useless, and he’s not easily cowed. Just now, he’s looking back at your challenge of a glance with a flat-eyed expression that you can’t quite parse.

Hm.

No language in common and barely any friends, but you wanted a kill and you didn’t get one, and here’s another man. You’ll have to make do with another kind of death.

Inside the club bathroom, he hooks his fingers over the top of your jeans and tugs you forwards a couple inches. Commanding, but not a threat. Not trying to make you stumble, just getting you that much closer.

Regarding him with a curious, almost lazy look, you’re almost inclined to let him have his way, but then, as he goes to unbutton your jeans, his knuckles smear blood along your stomach. You close your hands over his wrists, and he pauses.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, slow and clear, lave as mãos. And he gets it.

You know he gets it, because he looks down at your hands, your bruised, swollen, bloody hands, and then back up at you in a way that makes his blank expression rather pointed. Oh, does the international man of mystery have a sense of humor after all?

“Do it,” you say, faça isso. That must not be close enough to Spanish, because he frowns a little. You give up.

You pull his hands out of your jeans, feeling a shiver go through you at the friction, and then you let go of him, walk over to the sink, and turn on the tap. As you lean back against it, the countertop digs into your thighs, suggestive. The dull pulsing thump of the club music outside gives the tiny bathroom a cloistered, cocooned quality. His dark eyes meet yours evenly.

You don’t move, don’t so much as lift an eyebrow. Silent. Yeah?

Yeah. He takes a couple steps forward and washes his hands, and as he does so he mutters something to himself in yet another language, English, maybe. As he dries his hands, he smiles. It’s a wry, private smile.

Two can play at that game. In your mediocre, third-generation Japanese, you say, “I have every intention of eating you whole” in exactly the same voice another woman might’ve said something sexy.

As he steps towards you, you could swear he says something that sounds like gostaria, dangerously close to I would like that, almost like he understands you.

You decide: no more talking.

Zero to a hundred. He tastes like beer and you, unfortunately, can’t get enough; your hands cup the back of his head, his neck, fingertips digging in as he finally unbuttons your jeans and shoves them and your panties down your thighs in one impatient motion. You could hop up onto the countertop, but why do that? This way is so much better, his wet hands gripping your ass, the swift coolness of droplets sliding down the back of your thighs, the low grunt he makes when he lifts you.

“Sorry, was that hard for you?” you say, but he’s two steps ahead of you. Got his palms warm on the inside of your knees, spreading your thighs and catching sight of just how wet you are for him. It’s his turn to be smug, clearly, but you can’t even be mad at it when he wears that smile so well.

He gets on his knees.

You should’ve known it’d be like this from the second you caught his eye in the aftermath of the fight. You really should’ve known, but it still punches an unwanted sound out of you, a small sound in the back of your throat, when he gets his face between your thighs in seconds, no hesitation, and starts to lick your cunt like it’s ice cream and he’s starving.

With the countertop digging into your legs and the mirror hard against the back of your head, your body throbbing with new bruises, you have no right to feel this good, but you do. With your fingers sunk into his hair and your eyes half-lidded, you feel like you could melt and slip right down that drain. For his part, he’s got you just how he wants you, with your legs parted wide to accommodate the width of his shoulders, his right forearm a bar across your belly. You have no fucking idea how or why he’s doing this—men who see you gone full destroyer don’t usually think to themselves, I want to make her feel good, they tend to think along much darker lines. They want to dominate you, and you get what fun you can out of the process of denying them that. But this? He got on his knees like it was his first choice. You do not know what this is, but you’ll take it. He slips a finger inside you, and you’re so wet that it barely burns at all. Two fingers. Fuck. He leans his weight into your stomach, across your thighs, to stop you from bucking up into his mouth, and that’s—that’s fair. It’s all you can do not to whimper, and your heavy panting sounds desperate enough. Three fingers and you do whimper.

He looks up, and you’re already bracing yourself, but no. There’s no sneer in it; there’s something else. All night, this nameless man has been quiet, unnoticeable, and then, once noticed, mysterious, but now you see him. The first look is caution, but the second? The second is all appreciation, like he could drink the sight.

That look hits you hard. You close your eyes, because you don’t want to see it, don’t know what the hell to do with it, and choose instead to sink deep into the sensations in your body as he wrings you out. A wave of euphoria hits you as you come, and it’s just the body, you know it’s just the body, but when it’s over and he has his chin propped up on your thigh, both of you looking exhausted, neither of you done, you get the weirdest urge to push his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Little killer, you want to say. Damn near affectionate. (It’s just the body.)

The cops arrive at the club before you can manage to return the favor, and Marcela hates all interactions with the cops with a flaming passion, so you have to get her out even though in all likelihood Ramón will just have to flash them a medium-size wad of bills. Later, though, when you can, you confess all (most) of the strange encounter to her, and she gets the message out to him. Through which of the tiny terrors, you don’t want to know. Probably Ramón, a thought that does not fill you with confidence. But he gets the message anyway.

The message is: I owe you one.

#David Barrón x reader #Narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico readerfic #David Barrón #mine #nffalphabet #well. that happened.#was it good? no but we gotta make progress somehow. gotta start somewhere. etc

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narcosfandomdiscord · 7 months

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narcos october masterlist i

This masterlist is for days 1-10 of the @narcosfandomdiscord's october prompt event, which you can read about here and join in!

For days 11 onwards, check out the second masterlist and the third masterlist.

(Note: character x character indicates a romantic/sexual relationship; character & character indicates a platonic one.)

October 1 — Day of Firsts

Create a fanwork about a canon character you’ve never written about/used before.

↳ fanart by @tofuwildcard — Javi smoking, digital art

↳ Claro Que No by @drabbles-mc — Chepe x gn!Reader, 462

↳ Waiting Red by @narcolini — Isabelle x Chepe vampire AU, 600

↳ Depth Over Distance by @proceduralpassion — Mika & OC sibling backstory, 2.2k

↳ For Old Time's Sake by @garbinge — Carrillo x Reader, Steve and Javi & Reader, angst, 3.5k

↳ In the morning by @artemiseamoon — Marta x Amado established relationship, 2.8k

↳ Vengeance For Me by @kesskirata — Gustavo & Tata angst, ficlet

↳ what we do now by @ashlingnarcos — Feistl x Van Ness post-canon, 1k

↳ Tu cómplice by @hausofmamadas — Mayo x Benjamín pining, 2.8k

October 2 — “Porque No Los Dos?” Day

Create a crossover for the original Narcos show and the Narcos: Mexico show, featuring at least one character for each.

↳ Looking On by @drabbles-mc — season 3 og DEA & season 2 mx DEA, unite! 3.5k

↳ How Do You Do This Shit For Fun? by @proceduralpassion — Walt & Javi crossover, 1k

↳ Late nights, early mornings by @artemiseamoon — Javi & OFC, Mayo x OFC, 1.8k

↳ two tests by @ashlingnarcos — Carrillo & Trujillo & Calderoni ficlet

Anything involving polyamory, ex: a fic about somebody who has two or more partners.

↳ Aggressive Negotiations by @kesskirata — Javi x Steve x Connie, 1.1k

October 3 — Day of Music

Create and post a playlist for fic/wip of yours OR your favorite episode and explain why each song resonates for that fic/wip or episode.

↳ Three playlists by @rerorero-my-cherry — for Ramon x OFC fic Sola con mi Soledad

↳ Playlist for episode 2.1, Salva El Tigre by @artemiseamoon

Put your favorite playlist on shuffle and whatever song comes up first, that’s your prompt.

↳ Tainted by @drabbles-mc — Carrillo & Steve angst, 3.1k

↳ I need you tonight by @artemiseamoon — Amado x OFC, 1.1k

↳ on your mind by @narcolini — Javi x gn!reader ficlet

↳ Amado fanart by @tofuwildcard

↳ Foldin' Clothes by @garbinge — Steve Murphy x F!Reader, 3.2k

↳ Promise by @proceduralpassion — Carrillo x OFC smut

October 4 — Day of Conflict

Many people seemed to combine both prompts for this day! Ambitious day.

Anything involving a fistfight or a gunfight.

Quote prompt: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

↳ Who You're Dealing With by @drabbles-mc — Steve & Javi & OFC, 3k

↳ Luna de Lobo by @artemiseamoon — Ramón x OFC, Barron x OFC

↳ Country Store Cherry Chocolate by @garbinge — Steve Murphy & Reader (his sister), 1.9k

↳ Unwritten by @proceduralpassion — Carrillo x OFC, 1.1k

October 5 — Day of Visual Art

Visual fanworks: post a screenshot, meme, gif, gifset, video, or other non-fic visual fanwork.

↳ a glitchy Pachito by @tofuwildcard — fanart

↳ NUGGETS OF BENJAMAYO by @hausofmamadas — gifset + commentary

↳ If Narcos Had A Group Chat by @proceduralpassion — video of groupchat texts

↳ If Narcos Had A Group Chat pt ii by @proceduralpassion — video of groupchat texts

Create a fanwork about a character interacting with a piece of art (e.g. buying decoration for a new home, stealing a piece, hitting on a stranger at a gallery, creating art themselves, etc)

↳ Things I Should Have Said by @garbinge — Javi x F!Reader, 2k

October 6 — Day of International Relations

Write non-English language fic.

↳ Dos Opciones by @proceduralpassion — language: Spanish, Maria Elvira x Miguel, Maria Elvira x OFC, ficlet

↳ ¿Qué? by @ashlingnarcos — language: Spanish, Eduardo x OFC, ficlet

Use a random country picker and utilize that country in your work in some way: a character is from that country, a food from that country shows up, there’s international politics, etc. You get two rerolls if you don’t like the first or second country you get. If you get the United States, reroll automatically.

↳ House Special by @drabbles-mc — county: Japan, Walt x F!Reader, 3k

↳ Lespwa fe viv by @artemiseamoon — country: Haiti, Chepe x OFC, 1.3k

October 7 — Day of Darkness

Make something centered around non-death dark topics (we have a specific death day already). Morally or emotionally dark topics/themes.

↳ The Oil Has Run Thin by @proceduralpassion — Walt x OFC ficlet

↳ Twenty-Four Hours by @drabbles-mc — Carrillo & gn!Reader captivity 1.4k

One-word prompt: Blackout.

↳ Control pt 1 by @artemiseamoon — Verdin x OFC smut, 1.6k

October 8 — Day of Light

A day of pure fluff: anything insanely, unambiguously, self-indulgently, luxuriously enjoyable.

↳ Moving Day by @drabbles-mc — Steve x Connie fluff, 1.1k

↳ Happiest I've Ever Been by @proceduralpassion — Steve x Connie fluff ficlet

October 9 — Day of Gay

Create anything devoted to an LGBTQ+ character.

↳ Watching Time by @garbinge — Chepe x Pacho ficlet

↳ Bisexually-lit Dina by @tofuwildcard — fanart

Create anything with a queer and/or trans original character or reader insert.

↳ Down in the 305 by @drabbles-mc — Steve x M!Reader

↳ Would You Kill For Me, My Love? by @proceduralpassion — Pacho x OMC ficlet

October 10 — Day of Tough Shit

Write a fic whose exact wordcount is divisible by 500 (500, 1000, 1500, etc).

↳ The distance between you & me by @artemiseamoon — Calderoni x OFC post-divorce 1.5k

↳ Four People You Meet by @drabbles-mc — Carrillo x Juliana, Carrillo & Martinez, 500

↳ Talking Heads by @ashlingnarcos — Arellano family humor, 500

↳ The Bungalow by @proceduralpassion — Amado x Reader, 500

Make a fanwork in a medium you’ve never used before. If you make GIFs, write something. If you write, draw. Etc. As long as it’s uncharted territory for you!

↳ Hi, I'm a Slut (Amado's Version) by @tofuwildcard — fanvid

↳ narcos october masterlist ii with prompts from day 11 onwards

#narcos fanfiction #narcos imagine #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos #narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #narcoctober

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narcosmx · 2 years

Text

being the arellano baby and being into ismael "mayo" zambada would include

got covid after nearly 3 years of dodging sick children and watched narcos mexico all over again... as you do

anyways here we are again with my absolute obsession with being in the arellano-felix family

the stranglehold this family has on me is absolutely astonishing

okay but hear me out, being ramon's T W IN

T W I N

and this could go one of two ways; being ramon's literal identical, his partner in cirme, the moment when the both of you get this twinkle in your eye everyone in tijuana should be afraid

oR OR OR the complete opposite like ramon is like looks like a cinnmaon roll, would kill you and you're the is a cinnamon roll is a cinnamon roll one

completely and utterly seperated from the family business, don't want to get you involved until ...

okay so i am going to go with the being the opposite to ramon, being the sweet as pie, doe eyed, glue to this family... the apple of benjamin's eye and ramon's light and acknowledgement that he could be better you're basically the same person anyways

i am just imagining that scene in season 2 when ramon is walking around listening to his cd player or walkman or whatever

and you doing the same thing bopping to some fucking early luis miguel and dancing through the house

GOD YOU BRING SO MUCH LIGHT INTO THIS HOME

preppy fresa princess

so it's not like they kick you the fuck out when business is happening, you're around and moving through life but listening... always listening

when people come around for business you observe and notice people, usually don't peak your interest they don't get more than a kiss on the cheek and a faint smile before you skip off bringing a levity to situations that benjamin would always take advantage of

until you see this ruggedly handsome man making his way through tijuana

can you just imagine with me if you will, coming down the staircase in the arellano-felix home, just your polished pretty self and you walk through the corridor of the dinning room and see someone new sitting at the dinning room table

you giving him this curious doe eyed look with a soft smile and mayo getting all nervous kill me

he like gets to his feet real fast, takes off his hat and bows his head a little like "buenos dias, herm

osa" and he's just looking at you like you're an absolute gem literally like this delicate little flower

and benjamin walks in and is like "mayo, mi hermanita. nena, mayo" and you literally have to snap out of your little trance and walk over to mayo to give him your customary kiss on the cheeck and i just him holding your hand loosly when you come over to kiss him

HIM KISSING THE BACK OF YOUR HAND lightly before you scamper off mostly in embarrassment because you couldn't squeak a word out

ramon coming up behind you giving you a knowing look as you communicate in pure twin telepathy, averting your eyes immediately because if you don't literally he will read your mind

crying at you muddling around the kitchen, wandering around pretending to do something as you walk past the walkway to the dinning room every 5 minutes to look at mayo and exchange these little smiles :( :(

you making something for them fucking idk why im imagining you making something like your abuelas agua de melon and bringing it over to them

and bringing it over all excited and benjamin is just doing that soft adoring smile, ramon is like fuck yeah aguas frescas and and mayo just whispers "gracias, princesa"

i just i just at the end of the meeting when they're saying goodbyes, you pop in and are like "benja, you invited mayo to dina's wedding right ?" batting eyelashes

benjamin being like oh yeah yeah come celebrate with us

and and you come to say goodbye to mayo and you're giving him a kiss on the cheek and he's like "nos vemos pronto, mi angel"

and you're left standing like heart eyes

and i'm dying, enedina coming up being you and being like "close your mouth, mija, you'll let flies in" and tickling your sides because twin telepathy may be a thing but your older sister knows you better than you know yourself

and so now the wedding you've been buzzing about for the past like year is now all you can freaking think about because you get to see mayo again and maybe steal a second away from your brothers

listen, the wedding day, you're walking down the aisle as one of the bridesmaids and you're like not so sneakily looking for mayo good lord

he flashes you the sweetest smile, he's looking at you like your his fucking bride and i

you turn redder than the dress you're fucking wearing

for the first time in a long time your like can we get this over with so we can fucking party

and and next time i'll write a whole mayo at the wedding thing and i ahh

#ismael el mayo zambada #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos mexico imagine #el mayo x reader #benjamin arellano felix #ramon arellano felix

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helpyourself-9 · 28 days

Text

Yandere Benjamín Arellano Félix Headcanons (Romantic)

“🔫- nini: Hi guys, I don’t really see many people writing for the hot men in this show and it breaks my heart, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.

“tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, guns, and mentions of murder.

“🔫pairing: yandere!benjamin arellano felix x fem!reader

You and Benjamin have known each other pretty much your guys entire life, growing up with each other and being there for each other through thick and thin.

How can Benjamin not fall in love with you, the person who has been by his and his family side when things get hard but you’ve also been there for all the good times and you just adore and love these people you call family.

With that it comes to show how much you mean to Benjamin, to him you and his family are the only light in his dark world.

When Benjamin realizes his obsession for you which not surprisingly takes a while for him to realize because of how busy he is with the business.

He just has to ask you out that second he just can’t stand not having you to him self any longer.

Imagine the reactions of the Arellano family when they find out that Benjamin FINALLY asked you out.

I can imagine Ramon hitting Benjamin on his shoulder with a big ass smile and telling him “por fin wey”

They truly can not be happier for Benjamin, in their eyes you are the perfect person for him

With that being said Benjamin would be so overprotective when it comes to his amor :(

He has a lot of enemies but he and his family run Tijuana so nothing gets done without him and his family knowing

Back to the him having alot of enemies with him knowing that it makes him paranoid as hell, knowing that you can get hurt or get stolen away from him makes him almost go insane

God help anyone that even says or tries and do something to you, him and his family would go to war for you because they see how much Benjamin loves you :( and they love you too

He’s a family man and he wants to make you his wife as fast as possible but if you want to wait for a bit then he’ll wait for you

Imagine y’all’s wedding 🥹 I’m getting soft just the looks of pure love that he’s giving you

Him telling you “te amo” every second in a soft voice and just being in awe for how beautiful you look

Once everyone knows that you’re his wife he’ll get even more protective of you like he’ll have his most trusted and loyal guards surrounding you always

Also please tell him if your going out he doesn’t have to happy on where your going he just has to know where you are 24/7

Makes him have some sense of control and balance in his chaotic world you’re his mujer, the future mother of his children he needs you to be safe

#narcos mexico #narcos #narcos mx #narcos mexico x reader #narcos mexico imagine #yandare

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plentyoffandoms · 1 year

Note

I loved your Ramón story😍 Would love your take on something like this: female reader is going through some things and distances herself from Ramón. When she fails to show for a family breakfast meeting, he finds her drunk out of her mind and in desperate need of being taken care of🥹

Ramón Arellano Félix x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ Miscellaneous TV Shows Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy. I do not speak Spanish nor I am going to try too.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me. 1st & 2nd gif @gangstababydoli, 3rd gif @nomoregoldfish

Warnings: drinking, f/Reader going through some things.

I am so happy you loved my Story. I was nervous to write for him. I hope you like this one.

Summary: f/Reader is the girlfriend of Ramón. She also has been going through some things & can't tell Ramón, so she tries to hide it. That is until she doesn't show up for a family breakfast & has Ramón panicking.

YN's POV

I could hear the phone ringing once more in the distance but I couldn't bring myself to answer it.

I knew it would be Ramón. He has been the only one who has called these last couple of days. I am only answering when I can not take the ringing anymore.

But Ramón isn't used to this from me. I practically race to the phone to answer it knowing it is him. He always makes sure to call me just to touch base.

I look forward to his calls. To hear when he will be home if he had to travel or just to make sure he is safe.

I heard my answering machine turning on and the sound of his confused voice filling the room.

"Hello my love. Just calling to let you know that I will be home tomorrow. Will be getting in late though, so I will be staying at Benjamin's but the family will be having breakfast together. Call me back, I love you."

The last part broke me. I could feel the tears streaming down my face as I played the message back before I erased it.

It was still early as I headed upstairs to my room, stopping off at the bar that Ramón insisted on putting in my home and grabbing the bottle of rum that I bought so long ago.

I didn't bother to grab a class as I just brought it to my lips and drank straight from the bottle.

My throat burning slightly as I drank. I climbed into bed and drank it all until I woke up the next day, my head pounding as I rushed to the washroom to throw up what little I had on my stomach.

I couldn't bring myself to look in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

I went back to the kitchen, trying to find something simple to make myself when I saw the new bottle of whiskey just sitting there.

I grabbed it and placed myself on the couch to watch some of my favourite TV shows . The phone randomly ringing and it going straight to the answering machine.

The faces on the TV became more and more blurry as the day went on. I tried to just sip the whiskey but by the time the sun was setting, I was already slumped over, the TV at this point long forgotten and now just background noise.

Ramón Arellano Félix's POV:

This is the fourth time today that I have called YN and she still has not answered. I slammed the phone down and Benjamín just gave me a look, but he knew better than to ask me what was wrong.

He already knows that YN hasn't returned any of my calls and has hardly picked up the phone.

"Maybe she is out with friends. She did tell you that she was going to take this time to see them." He said to me as he looked out the window.

"Maybe." But I knew deep down that wasn't what happened. Even before I left for this business trip, YN has slowly been pulling herself away.

At first I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to see it. Her smile didn't reach her eyes like it once did.

There was a sadness in her eyes when I looked into them, but I just pushed that feeling aside. Trying to convince myself that I was just seeing things.

But that night as I slept in what I considered my room at Benjamín's, I could only dream of YN telling me that she wanted to leave me.

I hardly slept but the few hours I didn't help me at all. It didn't help my nerves and as I got up and ready for the day, I thought about calling YN once more but even I knew she wouldn't pick up the phone.

I took my spot at the table and waited for YN to show up. Dina kept looking at her watch and I was looking at the massive clock that was above the fireplace.

Benjamín cleared his throat. "We can not wait anymore Ramon. We must start." I sighed and gestured for him to start this meeting, all the time wondering where the hell was YN?

Once the meeting was over, I practically flew out of the house and to my car. I ran every stop light and stop sign it felt like as I drove to YN's home, my home.

I slammed the car door shut and ran into the house, my gun in my hand ready to shoot anyone if I need too.

But the house was silent except for the sound of the TV that was on in the livingroom. I called her name and waited for her to answer.

Nothing.

I called it twice more and started to panic even more now, that was until I heard the groaning coming from the livingroom.

I walked towards the room quietly having no idea what the hell I was walking into.

What I actually walked into I have seen dozens of time with other people, but seeing my girl laying on the couch, with what looks like an empty whiskey bottle on floor.

"Ramón?"

"Yes baby." I took a few steps towards her and she looked up at me.

YN went to say something but then she puked all over herself and the carpeted floor.

"Of fuck." She said as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Come on baby, let's go take a nice bath and get you cleaned up."

"But I gotta clean this up." She slurred out. I took her hands in mine, not caring at this point about the smell.

"I will have someone come in and take care of it." I walked the usual trail to our bedroom with the massive tub.

I helped YN take off her her clothes and put her in the shower first to clean her off. Once I was happy that she didn't smell like puke anymore, I ran us a bath with her favourite soap.

As that was filling, I called in the cleaning crew I normally use for when we throw parties to come and clean up the mess.

I sent Kitty out for food and her favourite coffee and now the two of us are relaxing in the tube.

"You had me worried baby." I said to her as I kissed that spot behind her ears that has her sighing.

"I know Ramón." YN was still drunk, but not as bad as when I found her.

"Want to tell me what is going on?"

"No...not yet."

I wanted to shake her. To force her to tell me what is going on but I can't be him with her. I had to be her Ramón.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Kitty walked in when I gave the all clear. He placed the food and drink on the small table he brought in with him and quickly left.

"Here eat. Get something on that stomach of yours." I said to YN.

The two of us ate in silence for a few minutes.

"Ramón?"

"Yes love."

"Thank you for just being here."

I kissed her temple and muttered, "I am here for you. I love you."

"I love you too Ramón."

#narcos mx #ramon narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #ramon arellano félix x female reader #ramon arellano felix imagine #ramon narcos mexico #ramon arellano felix #ramón arellano félix #ramón felix fic #female reader #reader imagine #reader insert #narcos mexico x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico x you #narcos mexico x y/n #narcos mexico x female reader

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mmasalva · 8 months

Text

miguel♥︎angel

#diego luna #narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico x reader #miguel angel felix gallardo

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ethereal-am · 3 months

Text

🎀Feliz día de los enamorados🎀 jk but bf reveal

#I NEED HIM #new year same old me #narcos mexico #narcos mx #narcos mexico edit #narcosmxedit #narcosedit #narcos mexico imagine #ramon arellano felix #narcos edit #manuel masalva

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cositapreciosa · 10 months

Note

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

By proxy

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

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

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

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

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

‘’ Puedo ayudarle? ‘’

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

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

‘’ Oh. ‘’

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

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

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

‘’ It’s all good. ‘’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘’ What’s your name again? ‘’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘’ Hmm. I got someone in mind. ‘’

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

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

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

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

‘’ How romantic. ‘’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘’ Maybe. Are you saying yes? ‘’

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

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

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

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

#amado x reader #amado carrillo fuentes x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos mexico imagines

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writers-vlogx · 1 year

Note

yandere rafa kidnaps his ex from her wedding

(rafa is dramatic as fuck,you would have come if he had just asked)

OHHH YALL ARE SOME SMART MF HE WOULD ABSOLUTELY DO THAT

Rafael caro quintero kidnapping you on your wedding day

Okay I can see this going one of two ways, the first being yall would have been dating before, but you broke up because you just couldn't stand seeing him hurt

And while it hurt you leaving him, you never stopped loving him. Neither did he stop keeping tabs on you, and eventually finds out your going to get married

The other way that I can see this going is your family doesn't know about him and decided to marry you to someone of their choice, and you ask him to come crash the wedding but for the sake of my own sanity it's gonna be the first option

You tried okay? You tried so hard to move on even if your heart ached, when you started seeing someone else it didn't feel right

You felt repulsed by him, but you had to because you had promised to never see him again.

When you came into his house that day, and decided to break his heart. You had told him you were tired of this, that you were tired of him

But that wasn't true "ya no puedo hacer esto Rafael, estoy cansada de todo esto, estoy cansada de tus cosas" No please look at me I'm sorry I hurt you! "Siempre es el negocio y no me contestas por semanas" No why do you look so hurt let me hold you I promise to never do that again "Honestamente estoy viendo a alguien más, alguien que si sabe que es amar" NO I didn't mean it please my heart only belongs to you I could never leave you!! "Así que, no me busques porfavor" amd with that you left, you left him behind and sometimes you think you might have left your heart right in front of that door along with him

You tried so hard to love again, but you couldn't; your heart didn't beat for anyone but rafa

And it seems unreal but time kept moving and when you least expected it; you were getting married

Ever since that day you left Rafael in that house, something inside him snapped

He became cold, when he was drunk he cried a lot and even when you told him to forget about you. He never forgot, instead he actually became obsessed with knowing where you were, with who and why

Felix became worried over him and tried to introduce him to other women, tried to get him to date but he was never interested; he wanted you and no one else

When he heard you were getting married? That was his breaking point

He refused to see you be anyone else's so he rounded up his people and got ready because he was having you, he didn't care whether you hated him or not

The day of the wedding came, everyone kept congratulating you and asking you how you felt, in truth however you felt nothing

You had imagined this moment many times, how he would look, where it would be and how joyful you would feel seeing him but this was not rafa and now it was too late to back out, so with dread you walked up to the altar ready to seal your vows, to lose your freedom

But that's when you heard it, men dressed in all black with guns shooting at the roof of the church and a man in front of all of them dressed exactly the same, but that voice...

You recognized who that was especially by the way he looked at you, he was angry

"TODOS AL SUELO, HIJOS DE SU CHINGADA MADRE, NO VA HABER BODA HOY NI NUNCA" with that he grabbed you by the wrist and before you could say anything else

BANG

He had shot the man in the head in cold blood, while his men kept everyone in their place, he started dragging you out of the church into a car that looked too familiar not to remember

When he finally got in the car you pulled his mask off to see him, his hair was messy, and he was sweating, a frown on his face

He opened his mouth as if to protest shu5 down whatever you had to say when you just kiss him, kissed him because of the nights that you spent without him, the days missing him and regretting leaving him, but out of anything else, you felt pain in how you broke his heart and walked out the door

You wanted nothing more than to feel him and never pull away, to beg him for forgiveness because you missed him so much it physically hurt

He thought you would be mad, furious even but you were the complete opposite, you held his face so delicately and smiled at him

"Hay no sabes cuanto te eh extrañando rafael, perdóname por todo te juro que nunca quise hacerte daño perdóname por favor" you were grabbing at his hands, face buried in his chest, like you needed to be as physically close as possible or you would vanish

"Oye calmada amor, no te disculpes porfavor, pero enserió como se te ocurre dejarme y irte con otro hijo de la chingada eh?" He understood you needed him, but he could still feel the anger inside him, because that man touched you, because he had the audacity to try to take what was his

" y a ti como se te ocurre ir y destruir una boda? Si no querías que me casara me pudiste haber dicho" you crossed your arms, but a smile gave it all away

You werent mad at him, and he wasn't mad at you, but you both had missed each other for the longest "ay ven aquí, me importa poco si te cansas de mi, me perteneces a mi y no voy a volver a dejar que te alejes de mi" he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead "ahora si vamos de aquí, okay amor" he looked down at you laying on his lap "I wouldn't want it any other way, mi rafa" somehow after all of this, it seemed it made yall stronger and just like he said, he won't let you escape again.

Okay whoever send me that thank you so much, made ya boi very happy, you know sometimes I hope rafa would be bi so I may imagine he would date me and love me 🤦🏻‍♂️

#tenoch huerta #rafa caro quintero #rafael caro quintero x you #rafael caro quintero x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico x reader #narcos mexico #narcos mexico x you #THIS MF WOULD BE DRAMATIC #DRAMA QUEEN #narcos x reader

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narcolini · 1 year

Text

nightmares

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

contains canon typical gun violence

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t say he doesn’t spoil you.

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

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

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

‘You’re bored already, mi cielo?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I can try.’

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

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

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

‘Amado, what…?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Who was that, Amado?’

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

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

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

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

‘Who?’ you insist. ‘Who the fuck?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Will it?’

‘Easier,’ he corrects. ‘With time.’

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

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

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

‘But you aren’t—’

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

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

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

You scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

#amado carrillo fuentes x reader #amado x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico fanfic #whumpril2023 #whumpril #tw: rafa nonsense without explanation LMAO #im not bothering with plot continuity at ALLLLLLL #pov you are sofia #j`khgkzldhfg

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