#pacho fanfiction

[cositapreciosa]

I love your narcos fic so much.i read all of them and i wanna say thank you for writing so many masterpiece and sharing with us 🙏🏻🙏🏻💖💖💖can you write some short fic about Pacho Herrera x gn/reader? pls 🥺🥺🥺

Colombian gold

Pacho Herrera x gn!reader, (nothing very bad, the usual for the show) 2512 words "you have a date? how much did you pay them?" by @novelbear

a/n : thank you !! <3333 enjoy this maybe not short fic of his

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

Tagging the narcos fam @narcolini @drabbles-mc @anunhealthydoseofangst @hausofmamadas @ashlingnarcos

Pacho doesn’t really know why he is here. Sure, maybe it is Miguel's birthday party and he was invited, maybe it might also be about the bigger picture, that Miguel fucked up with the US government, fucked up with their shipments, this event a good occasion to make sure Miguel knows who he is working for. This could be a phone call, he could have sent someone else, but why keep himself away when he could come to Mexico, enjoy the drinks, the food, your company.

He likes to think he is bigger than this, those events, the gluttony of it all, bigger than the jealousy that pierces his chest when he sees you across the pool, someone’s arm wrapped around your own. This jealousy is hot, burning through his chest in a way he has never felt before. It overpowers him, but he can only watch and clap with everyone else as fireworks boom and light up the sky. He catches eyes with Miguel a few meters away from you, he is sulking, as usual. Oh, Pacho thinks, what wouldn’t he endure to get what he really wants.

He is almost grateful when he exits the chapel. The air is refreshing, he needs a new drink, and there is an extra stride in his steps when he eventually notices you, leaning against the bar, alone. He feels it again, hot, burning, tearing him apart. The cold glass counter soothes the burn as he props himself next to you.

‘’ You have a date? ‘’ He starts. ‘’ How much did you pay him? ‘’

You turn to him. There is a pink tint to your cheeks, something glossy about your lips, a few drinks perhaps, something irresistible. Your eyes shine from the lights above you, they twinkle as you recognize him.

‘’ I don’t pay for dates, I’ll let you know. I usually turn down offers. ‘’

‘’ Hmm. ‘’

Pacho knows you don’t have to pay for them. Of course, you don’t, not when the silk covering your body fits you like a glove, not when the gold wrapped around your neck makes your skin glow.

He remembers meeting you for the first time, a few steps behind Miguel at all times. Pacho didn’t know your name back then, but he noticed your sharp thinking, the clues and pieces of puzzles you picked up that others would never have seen. You were the smart one he had quickly realized, out of the bunch, those that would only follow, monkeys.

He remembers when the lines had started to blur, when his hand would press the small of your back to direct you to your seat, to his apartment. He would call you on occasion, pretexting work, shipments, and anything in between. Pacho knew you could see through it all, the small gestures, the gifts, you had to, how could you not?

Pacho hated how the Plaza could not see your potential in the same light he would. Greed and jealousy run the world, and it certainly motivated your colleagues too. He had tried to make you see through it, how little they thought of you, how you could do so much more if you left them, joined someone else, him.

‘’ I can’t. I owe Miguel everything, you know that. ‘’

‘’ Loyalty is what will get you killed, they will betray you if they have to. ‘’

‘’ You don’t know that. ‘’

‘’ Are you willing to wait and find out? ‘’

Pacho knew you weren’t, he knew there was something in you that was meant for better, greater things.

‘’ Did Miguel tell you coming to his birthday party alone was forbidden? ‘’ He continues, digging for more information.

‘’ Well, Maria sure does tell me every day how sorry she is for me that I am single. ‘’ Your eyes squint, taking him in, ‘’ But I see that you didn’t get influenced by the backhanded comments. ‘’

‘’ Well, I thought my favourite Mexican would be single for the night, that would have fixed the problem, don’t you think? ‘’

He can see the red that colours your cheeks now, a nice blush. Your eyes burn into his with intrigue.

‘’ Chapo is indeed single. I knew you liked them short and moreno. ‘’

He laughs with you on that one, maybe, he thinks, but he does like you better. More his type, more everything, addicting.

‘’ So, ‘’ the ice inside your drink clinks as you swirl the liquid around, ‘’ What brings you to this part of the world, colombiano? ‘’

‘’ You. ‘’

He could have thought this through a little bit better and made it seem like he was coming for business anyway, that this was just such a happy coincidence, but he couldn’t, not after how you had left last time. It always started like it usually did, music, wine, deep conversations over the balcony, but it also always finished the same, accusing fingers, your clothes back in your suitcase, the betrayed look on your face when he would mention how he can’t believe you are letting them walk over you once more.

There is no point in walking around it because he knows now why you plague his mind, you have got to know too, you have to. Maybe he has had one too many drinks.

‘’ I think you know why I always come back, why I come to waste my time en ese campo with those half-assed associates of yours. ‘’

‘’ Pacho. ‘’

A warning maybe. Do not say such words it means, not now, but he can’t seem to care. At home or overseas, he is a king, untouched. He is so close to you he can see the dots of gold in your eyes better now, raise his hand and feel your forearm with the inside of his palm as you let him. He could kiss you, he thinks, right now, in front of everyone and feel no shame. It would show them, he thinks, payasos.

‘’ Don’t kiss me, ‘’ you plead, eyes glued to his, ‘’ Not here. I can’t, I- ‘’

More fireworks set off in the distance, and another whiskey is pushed toward him by the bartender, but just when he thinks that everything is okay, that this could still be your moment, even when all the noise comes back, even after everyone starts moving again in your peripheral vision, your date puts his arm around your waist.

He doesn’t like how you tense, caught off guard. There is a ringing in his ears, a call for fury, anger, of knives and guns, whatever he can get his hand on. His fingers tighten around his glass, he doesn’t know this one, whoever you decided was fit enough to join your side for a few hours, and he doesn’t care to.

‘’ I suggest you bring your business elsewhere tonight. ‘’

‘’ Pacho, please- ‘’ You pitch up, trying to stop him, the threats, the powertrip, but it is useless.

‘’ I won’t ask twice. ‘’ He continues.

Pacho knows his gun is easily visible tucked into his pants, and quick eyes up and down from your date tell him he saw it too. It does not take much for him to leave after that, after Pacho makes a show of sipping his whiskey and leaning back to display the loaded pistol. You nod to the poor man to go, freeing him from the spectacle.

‘’ Now you are just being mean. ‘’ You tsk.

Pacho’s eyes are still following the man’s back into the crowd until he is but a speck of colour in his sight.

‘’ I didn’t see you try to get him to stay either. ‘’

You bring the last sip of your drink to your mouth.

‘’ What is it Pacho, what do you want? ‘’

Your empty glass is pushed to the side as you lean toward him, your eyes serious.

‘’ And don’t say me, don’t say any other business chingaderas. I want the truth. ‘’

Pacho catches the bartender’s attention and he orders you another glass, something sweet, exactly how you like it. Too much sugar will kill you. Maybe, but I’m pretty sure smoking will get to you first. Mostly it is to kill time and take this moment to think about how to say it, if he should at all. What has been bothering him for a long time, what he knows now since the chapel. Pacho lets you take a sip first, and you let him pay without fighting for the bill.

‘’ Miguel is not being honest with me, I know he is planning something, but I am not sure why. ‘’ He clears his throat. ‘’ I’d like you to listen and, if you want, report anything concerning to me. ‘’

Your reaction is instantaneous, like you have been stung by his words, your body reacting in disbelief. He knows how hard this must be for you, as it is for him too. He loathes how political your relationship has been lately, that you are just a piece of the puzzle being tossed around between them, always trying to win, to triumph. Your laugh is dry, void of emotion.

‘’ You’ve gone insane. ‘’ You shake your head. ‘’ And here I thought for a second you liked me. ‘’

‘’ You know how I feel about you, when has it ever been a secret? ‘’

Your eyes trail off elsewhere, in the crowd, the tiger in the cage. Pacho takes a step closer, approaching again when you let him. His hand moves up, thumb touching your chin, fingers pressing on your jaw, gently bringing your gaze his way.

‘’ Only if you want. Think about it, ‘’ About everything, about what we could do together. ‘’ I won’t hold it against you if you don’t. ‘’

His thumb caresses your bottom lip, a touch for the road, a touch to remember. He smiles, softly, trying to smooth out the tension in your body.

‘’ Enjoy the party, okay? ‘’

He means it. Your tongue rolls around in your mouth, biting back words as you shake him off you. And then he leaves, simply because there is nothing else he can do, he walks to the car, drives to the hotel, home and then he waits. However long it would take.

.

One morning the phone rings, the one he keeps with him at all times, the one he reserves for your number only, no one else's. It feels heavy in his hand, burning through the skin, through his heart, he hadn’t heard from you for weeks now. It takes him a few seconds before he reacts, pressing the button and bringing the phone to his ear.

‘’ Pacho. ‘’

He hears the crackle of your voice over the receiver, flat, his name an acknowledgement, barely a hello. You had only called once after the party, mostly to yell at him, drunk and incoherent. A time when he could do nothing but listen and send a car to your house to make sure you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself. Something he still hadn’t received a thank-you card for, no apologetic phone call, just a deafening silence in return, no more late-night conversations, your side of the bed still cold.

He had thought you wouldn’t call again after that, not when you had been so angry, how you had told him that this must have been all a trick from the beginning. Like a snake, you had spit at him through the phone, trying to break the ranks, the long-earned trust.

Letting you plant doubt into my head at Miguel’s birthday was a mistake.

‘’ Are you there? ‘’

I am. He is, holding onto the satellite phone like his life depends on it.

‘’ I want you to listen very carefully, ‘’ You begin, ‘’ I’ll only say this once. ‘’

This call is moving too fast. Pacho knows this isn’t an apology, and frankly, he doesn’t expect one, but he had hoped you would have been a bit more forgiving, less strategic, less straight to the point. He hears you move around, doors closing and opening, probably at home from what has been reported to him lately.

‘’ Miguel will talk to Don Juan in Matamoros before your meeting. This is what you wanted, right? Information like this? Because this is the last time, I’m done, I’m leaving Mexico. ‘’

He feels like he has been stabbed, straight through the heart and pulled.

‘’ Why? Where are you going? ‘’

Come to me, he wants to say, I’ll fly you in, I’ll protect you.

‘’ Listen, I know you can one-up his deal. ‘’ Hair brushes against the receiver. ‘’ Miguel will know I ratted out the second he gets to your meeting, use it wisely. ‘’

‘’ Don’t hang up. Talk to me. ‘’

He calls your name through the phone, pleading, he knows how desperate his voice might sound, he knows he is. Tell me what happened, and I’ll take care of it. Pacho knows running away is your next step, hang up and disappear, leave and hide, but he won’t allow it, not when he can take you in and make sure you are safe.

In his arms forever at last.

‘’ Miguel wants Guerra to get into the cocaine business, if it works he’ll have leverage, and if the Caribbean corridor closes you’ll- ‘’

‘’ No. ‘’ He has to take a deep breath, remind himself to stay focused on the task at hand. ‘’ No, not that. What happened? ‘’

Why are you leaving? What did they do?

‘’ I- Pacho, I can’t stay on the phone much longer- ‘’

He holds the phone in a tight grip, sweaty fingers, gold rings crushing the plastic.

‘’ I am sending someone to pick you up. Don’t leave your house. ‘’

He can feel your hesitation over the phone, all the planning that would have to be thrown out the window, what it would mean to be seen by his side. This is not just business anymore to him, it hasn’t been for a long time.

‘’ I owe you that. Let me. ‘’

He had longed for this, a phone call, a letter, news of your well-being. A chance to save you, steal you away.

‘’ Okay. ‘’ You sound small, resigned. You know better than to refuse, ‘’ I’ll wait. ‘’

The second you hang up, Pacho is on the move, snapping fingers left and right, setting up cars, planes, whatever it will take to get you out. It scares him to death, the idea of you alone in Mexico, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for someone to figure out something is wrong, to see if Miguel would act on it.

He has a different feeling this time, nothing hot or burning like before. It spreads through him, a searing pain. It isn’t jealousy anymore, fear perhaps.

Maybe it is, he realizes.

Letting you plant doubt into my head at Miguel’s birthday was a mistake.

Maybe it was.

[drabbles-mc]

Perfectly Available

Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Pacho Herrera

Warnings: 18+, language, implied smut

Word Count: 1.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what.”

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

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

“He doesn’t know,” Pacho said.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“You know,” Pacho responded simply.

“I don’t—”

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

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

“How did you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[garbinge]

Watching Time

Pacho Herrera x Chepe Santacruz For the @narcosfandomdiscord October Prompts. Day 9 - Day of Gay: Create anything devoted to an LGBTQ+ character. Summary: Morning bliss with these guys. Word Count: 800 words Warnings: All my fics are 18+, regardless of content. Alludes to sexual situations. A/N: I had so much fun with this!!!! Also I PROMISE to catch up on everyone's fics!!! work has been crrrraaazzzzyyyyyy but I'm hoping to catch up soon!

Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @hausofmamadas @ashlingiswriting

“You know that bike is going to kill you one day.” Chepe was shirtless, leaning against the headboard of the bed as he lit a cigarette. 

“You think about that bike more than you think about me.” Pacho was walking back from the bathroom, his short boxer briefs being the only thing on his body. 

“I think about you on that bike.” Chepe said as he looked Pacho up and down, the smoke exhaling from his mouth. 

“If I wanted to be safe I would have chosen a different profession.” Pacho was now getting dressed. The disappointment was apparent on Chepe’s face as Pacho went from naked to fully clothed. 

“You can retire.” Chepe’s eyebrows were raised now, like the idea he had was so brilliant he was wondering why he didn’t come up with it sooner. 

Pacho didn’t even entertain that comment with any response let alone a glance in his direction. He continued getting ready, placing the gold watch that Chepe gifted him a few months back. 

“I’ll buy you more watches. It’ll be great, you can stay home and watch the time pass, very peaceful, it’ll add years to your life.” The frown on Chepe’s face wasn’t one of disconcert but of ease, like his request was reasonable. 

“And waiting for you to come home will take them right off.” Pacho was turning around to look at Chepe now as he buttoned his sleeves with cufflinks. 

“Come back to bed and let me take all of that off.” Chepe was pushing the blanket on the empty side of bed down as an open invitation to Pacho. 

Pacho leaned forward, his knee touching the mattress so he could reach Chepe’s face. Inches away, tensions high, Pacho moved his hands up to the button on his shirt and closed his eyes to leave a soft, tender kiss on Chepe’s lips. As he pulled away, Chepe leaning in for more instinctually, Pacho spoke up at a whisper. 

“No.” 

Chepe’s eyes blinked open immediately, the frustration and shock were quickly moving in and leaving a less than happy expression on his face. Pacho took the whole thing humorously, a chuckle left his mouth before he finished buttoning the silk peacock blue shirt and kicked off the bed. 

“A la gran puta.” The words weren’t yelled, just mumbled as a slightly disgruntled and now sexually frustrated man realized he got played. 

“I’ll make it up to you tonight.” Pacho was still smiling, clearly satisfied with his act of teasing.

Chepe just rolled his eyes and waved his hand in a dismissive way, not to blow him off but to show he was still grumpy regardless of the promises to come. 

Pacho quickly made his way over and kissed Chepe again, the movement was so swift that Chepe was taken off guard by it but quickly took his hand to cup Pacho’s face. It was the hand with the cigarette still in it, so he was careful where his fingers landed but wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to kiss Pacho goodbye. Their passionate embrace lasted a few seconds before Pacho pulled away to speak against his lips. 

“Burning my shirt is just going to piss me off, not keep me here longer.” 

Chepe smiled now, “You’re fun when you’re mad.” 

The comment earned him a slight push just before Pacho made his way to the bedroom door. Chepe stayed in bed, laughing while he brought the last of the cigarette to his mouth, fully relaxed and at peace with the morning he shared with Pacho. The sound of the door opening but not closing made Chepe look over to see Pacho taking one step backwards, hand still on the door as he looked over his shoulder towards Chepe. 

“You know, you love laying in bed so much, I’ll buy you watches and maybe you could retire.” The smirk was growing on his face while it was fading from Chepe’s. “Feel free to watch the time while you wait for me to get home.”

Before another word could be spoken from either of them, Chepe grabbed one of Pacho’s silk pillows and threw it at the door that was rapidly closing on the other side. His laughs could be heard as he descended down the stairs. 

Chepe annoyingly looked around the room and the bed before making the same frown he had early, one of ease, like Pacho’s request was just the slightest bit reasonable. 

“I could watch the time.” He shrugged as he slouched more in the bed and lit up another cigarette as he brought his arm up to check his diamond dial watch that Pacho had gotten him for his birthday.

“Feel the years being added to my life as the seconds pass.”

[ashlingnarcos]

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[purplesong1028]

Wrong in All the Right Ways

Chapter 8: The Right Offer

Pacho takes Amado out clubbing as he promised, but brings surprise companies for both of them.

(AKA. Pacho teasing poor Amado relentlessly.)

Rating: PG 13

Paring: Amado/Pacho, Amado/Miguel, Pacho/Manuel

Words: 2,841

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34735498/chapters/103053282

Amado opens his eyes to a colorful oil painting of nature, hanging on the wall across from the bed. The lingering light of sunset shines through the window, just bright enough to light up the room, tainting the beige wallpaper with a shade of orange. What time is it? When did he fall asleep? Amado slowly sits up and runs a hand through his hair; it’s still a little wet. Right, he took a long shower earlier as soon as he got to this guest room, which really was a four bedroom premium suite. Then he changed into the nicest black shirt he brought, and then decided to catch a few hours of sleep. He must have forgetter to set an alarm.

Amado splashes some cold water on his face and looks up into the mirror. Honestly, he looks a lot better than he feels: there’s no dark circles under his eyes, no lines between his brows, no visible signs of tiredness or stress.

That’s interesting. It’s usually the other way around.

The two gift boxes are sitting quietly on the wooden coffee table, neat and unopened. Maybe he should have given them to Pacho before their meeting after all. Maybe that would have helped a little, or maybe he’d have fucked it up even worse, as soon as Pacho saw the bathrobe.

Or, maybe he can still make some use of it tonight after the party. Let’s face it: that was why he brought it back here to begin with, and it had nothing to do with business.

Amado hears someone knocking on the door as he’s trying on a leather pilot jacket. He walks over, thinking it’s probably some random person coming to tell him it’s time, or maybe Navegante. But it’s no one other than Pacho himself standing in the hallway.

He’s changed out of that purple suit he wore earlier during the meeting, into a golden shaded shirt with elaborate patterns.

Pacho tilts his head a little as he speaks, eyeing Amado up and down unsubtly. “Ya veo, siempre un piloto.”

“¿Por qué no?” Amado can’t help but smile. For inexplicable reasons, Pacho always brings a sense of levity effortlessly, especially in supposedly inappropriate situations. Even when he literally held Amado hostage in a hotel back then after Rafa shot up the nightclub, he still acted flirtatious about it.

“You look nice too.” Amado swallows, looking away from the golden necklace on Pacho’s half-exposed chest. He turns to grab his wallet from the counter, and quickly contemplates whether he should bring the gun, but decides against it.

After all, Pacho did say he knew a few places where people don’t shoot at you.

*

They walk out together to the front gate, where a tall young man’s leaning on a red sports car. He breaks out into the brightest smile the second Pacho enters his sight.

“Manuel, meet Amado, our guest from Mexico.”

“¡Mucho gusto, bienvenida a Cali!” Manuel shakes his hand earnestly, like he’s been expecting it. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Amado snorts out of surprise and embarrassment. “Is that so?”

“Si, Señor.” Manuel simply flashes him another smile before getting into the driver's seat, and Pacho climbs in right after, onto the passenger’s seat.

For a few seconds, Amado just stands there dumbfounded. Seriously, what is this? He thought he was a bad host back in Guadalajara, but this? Come on, nothing’s worse than being a third wheel! At this point, he’s really starting to doubt if this is some kind of elaborate plan to humiliate him.

He sighs and gets into the backseat, meeting Pacho’s teasing glance through the rear mirror.

“Don’t worry, Amado. We brought company for you too!”

Somehow, that sounds even more unsettling.

The car ride isn’t as awkward as he thought it would be. Manuel actually makes a much better effort in making conversations than Pacho does, asking Amado random questions about Mexico: food, weather, desert, planes… and it’s not just meaningless small talk to fill the empty space. He truly comes off as an innately curious, outgoing person. In any other circumstances, Amado would have really liked the guy.

*

They pull over next to a nice place. Not some loud, crowded nightclub, more like a high end lounge with dim yellow light and live jazz band performance. Of course this is the type of place Pacho goes to.

The manager greets them by the door, and Pacho pulls him into a friendly hug, casually asking about his wife and daughter like they’re old friends. They walk through the lobby, passing a narrow hallway that leads to a more lively atmosphere, where people are dancing to the upbeat jazz music, sipping expensive looking cognacs or colorful cocktails.

On the second floor patio, there’s an area concealed by a layer of dark red velvet. Pacho thanks the manager, and gives Amado a playful smile before slowly lifting the curtain, like a magician revealing his secret.

Inside, there are two ladies, both strikingly beautiful, with exquisite makeup and short skirts. That seems like exactly what anyone would expect in this type of situation, in their business, but at this point, Amado unfortunately knows Pacho well enough to understand there must be a twist.

As if on cue, the ladies get up, and walk straight to Manuel.

“Hey! Nice to see you again so soon!” The dark haired one pats him on the shoulder, like two brothers catching up. “How’s your leg?”

“It’s all good, love, just a graze.” Manuel reassures her, and kisses the blonde girl on the cheek. “Nice to see you here! Don’t you have a thing going on tonight?”

“I did, but guess this is more important!” She glances at Amado’s direction, smiling brightly as their eyes meet.

Then just like that, it clicks: they are all sicarios. He is literally in a room with three killers and the boss they work for.

“You must be Amado.” She offers her hand, and the handshake is strong and steady. “I’m Natalia. I’ve heard a lot about you, Señor.”

“What, am I famous to everyone in Cali now?” He looks at Pacho’s direction, silently asking for some kind of explanation, but of course, there is none.

“Of course not everyone, but we know.” The brunette walks over, giving him a cute wink. “Gabriela. My pleasure.”

A line of waiters silently bring in bottles of liquor, large plates of food, cigars, and basically anything else they might need, but none of it feels like a treat.

When the heavy curtain closes, it feels like a trap.

“Relax, Amado.” Pacho lights up a cigarette, the smoke blurring his face under the dim light. “Tonight is about having fun. I keep my promises.”

He doesn’t remember Pacho ever explicitly promising anything, but he’s also fairly certain that he didn’t give the Colombian a reason to kill him right here. It’s likely just a strategy, a performance like everything else, to get him confused and gain an upper hand in manipulation.

He’s no stranger to that.

For some fucked-up mysterious reason, he seems to precisely draw this type of assholes.

*

Pacho pretty much ignores him through the night, enjoying a perfectly pleasant evening with his little boyfriend— Yes, they are not making an effort to hide their relationship at all. Amado literally knows regular couples who are more reserved than these two motherfuckers when in public.

“You seem distracted.” Gabriela smoothly leans in, blocking his vision. “What’s the problem, señor piloto?”

The way she utters these two words sounds like an enticement in itself, her thick, dark curls flowing down from her shoulder, almost brushing his arm.

And that works. That would work on anyone.

Natalia joins them from the other side, basically sandwiching him in between. “Are we not good enough for you to look at?”

“Please,” Amado laughs at the obvious teasing, putting his arm around her shoulder, “you really need to ask that?”

They laugh with him, all natural and lighthearted as they both lean into him closer, like they’re really two random gorgeous women flirting with him at the same time. If he just looks down, he can clearly see their cleavages wrapped inside the low cuts.

Amado closes his eyes as a pair of red lips meet his. He isn’t sure which one, and he doesn’t care as another pair of lips slowly goes down his neck. Their perfume has a sweet, earthy scent, and he can feel the warm, curvy bodies under his palms— so soft, so feminine compared to a man’s torso, and that’s so much easier, nicer, almost comforting.

“Wanna dance with us?” She whispers to his ear, the simple words carrying so much seduction that he doesn’t know what she means by “dance”.

But what kind of idiot would say no?

“Good.” The other girl chuckles, or maybe it’s the same one. He doesn’t have time to think when they pull him up from the couch, urging him to the dance floor downstairs. Amado spares one last glance at Pacho as the curtain falls behind them, just in time to see Manuel unbuttoning his silk shirt. The tanned skin looks pale as a sharp blade under the funky disco light.

*

Clubbing doesn’t have to make sense, and that’s what Amado loves about it. The music is loud; the air is hot. He doesn’t remember how many drinks he had, or how many songs they danced through. All he feels are the sweaty bodies pressed against him, their movements in sync. There’s no need to speak, no reason to think. It’s a distraction, a release, except he didn’t actually get the release he was craving for, in more ways than one. When they get back to their VIP area, he’s pretty sure the bulge under his pants is visible, not that anyone here cares.

“I see you had a good time.” Pacho smirks, amusedly glancing at his apparent desire.

“So did you.” Amado says, more sourly than he intended.

“As I said, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Pacho fixes his impeccable hair, Manuel walking past him from behind, their shoulders brushing lightly.

Pacho smiles at the touch, but his eyes persistently stay on Amado, piercingly observant. “Come on, time to get some sleep. You’re heading back tomorrow, right?”

It’s question, but it sounds like an order, an eviction, and it probably is.

*

Amado doesn’t bother to hide his exhaustion on the way back. Not just exhaustion, he feels lightheaded and a little nauseous, like all the alcohol he consumed earlier finally caught up at once. He makes the smart decision to not not sit between the two ladies again on the backseat, because he can really take a break from all that, and distract himself with the city light in Cali.

All of a sudden, he remembers the first time he met Pacho, when the Colombian was the one looking out the rear window at the Guadalajara night scene. Pacho was right: all big cities look the same.

But they don’t feel the same. They never will.

The car ride is surprisingly short when it’s silent. Amado almost didn’t recognize the hidden driveway leading to Pacho’s mansion when Manuel made a sharp turn. The little entrance is even more clandestine in the dark, almost completely invisible, yet it doesn’t appear ominous, just mysterious and tranquil, even tempting.

The car stops in front of the extravagant front gate. Gabriela and Natalia silently hold his gaze, without any expectation or suggestiveness, just pure curiosity, like they’re genuinely wondering what he wants to do.

He leans in and presses a kiss on Gabriela’s cheek. “Buenas noches, querido.”

Natalia laughs behind her, giving him a friendly wave of goodbye as he opens the door. Besides him, Pacho also gets out from the passenger seat, after telling Manuel to drive the ladies home. Manuel briefly meets Amado’s eyes, and then flashes a knowing smile at Pacho. There’s no jealousy at all; if anything, he seems understanding, even encouraging.

The car drives off into the night, leaving a soft breeze. He turns to face Pacho, who’s staring back at him with audaciously strong interest, like a hungry man looking at a delicious meal on the table, prepared and served, ready to be consumed.

A fire lights up in his chest, the heat rushing straight to his head, burning on the last few sensical nerves. Amado takes a deep breath, forcing down the violent urges to do something regrettable. It doesn’t matter what; he could strangle the man or kiss him, either would make him feel less like shit, but neither is an actual option at the moment, right outside of Pacho’s house, in front of the securities.

He swallows hard, and silently turns on his heel, balling one of his hands into fist.

*

Amado doesn’t remember the way back to his room. He realizes that within ten seconds after setting foot in the huge mansion again, just when he thought he couldn’t embarrass himself any further. No surprise there, the fucking place is designed like a maze for squirrels.

After he takes more than one wrong turn, Pacho quickly catches up from behind and starts walking next to him, leading the way without saying anything. At the back of his mind, Amado appreciates the considerate gesture, but it sure as hell doesn’t make up for everything else this bastard has done today.

When they reach the guest suite, he’s ready to say goodnight, close the door and stop all the possibilities, just like what he did with the girls.

“It was a good night.” He ends up saying, and he literally wants to slap himself for it.

“Was it, really? I thought you would have wanted it to be better.”

Amado takes the door handle. He’s done, really. He’s ready to just get inside and go to sleep. “It was much better than last time. At least no one’s shooting, right?”

He forces a smile, trying to play it off like a joke. Pacho doesn’t laugh at it, but doesn’t stop him either as he turns the handle.

The door makes a squeaky sound as it slowly opens. He walks in, the expensive carpet absorbing all the noise from each step.

“You didn’t invite them in.”

Amado stops, barely a few feet inside the room. He turns around as he hears the door close behind him, behind them.

“Why should I? Was that what they were here for?”

“They’re not whores, if that’s what you’re asking.” Pacho shakes his head, but there’s no disapproval in his lighthearted laugh, only amusement. “However, I don’t think they would have said no to you.”

Pacho locks the door, and then walks towards him, hands in pockets, steady and pressing. His heart races, beating on every step that shortens their distance.

“So, I’ll ask one more time.” Pacho whispers, merely an inch away, their noses almost touching, and Amado can fucking smell him: rich, mysterious, with a hint of alluring, deceptive sweetness. “Why didn’t you invite them in?”

Amado glances down at the pair of lips right in front of him. He doesn’t need to answer these boring questions. If he leans in just a little, he can taste them.

“Maybe that wasn’t the right offer?” Pacho backs away in perfect timing, joyously feeding on Amado’s miserable frustration.

There isn’t a mirror anywhere nearby, but Amado’s absolutely certain that he has never looked more murderous in his entire life, which doesn’t seem to bother Pacho in the slightest.

“Or, maybe I was asking the wrong question.” Pacho paces towards the table where two gift boxes are placed. If this happened earlier in the day, maybe Amado would have tried to stop him, but he simply doesn’t have the energy or heart to care at this point.

He watches Pacho gracefully untie the golden ribbon, take off the lid and reveal the nearly transparent white silk bathrobe inside.

“You brought it back.” The Colombian traces the smooth surface of the cloth with his fingertips, attentive and tantalizing, like he’s caressing a lover’s body. “How do you like to see me in this?”

“…What?”

“Before or after? With or without anything inside?” Pacho carefully drapes the bathrobe over his forearm, leisurely strolling back to Amado. “Have you ever tried it on yourself?”

He hasn’t, but God he had wanted to. He almost did a few times, after taking a shower, standing naked in front of the mirror with the weightless piece of clothing in his hands. But he never did it. It felt too wrong, too dangerous, like a surrender.

Like a betrayal.

“It’s okay. What did you imagine? Tell me.”

Pacho whispers against his face, voice captivating, but with comfort and sympathy behind his eyes. Amado looks into them, letting himself be mesmerized, possessed, like a sailor under Siren’s song, destined to be doomed.

“Just you wearing it.”

“Is that so?” Pacho smiles, more open and authentic than he’s ever been since Amado first laid eyes on the man.

“How about I don’t wear it?”

@ashlingiswriting @yourlocalspacewitxch @narcolini @mandaloria314 @kesskirata @marrianena @alreadywritten @cherixrosa @cheesybadgers @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @drabbles-mc @tinylittleobsessions

[martamatta95]

To wish you a christmas there's nothing better than thanking everyone who supported my most followed ff, i know it's not perfect and needs an overhaul.

So thank you from the bottom of my heart and best wishes for a merry Christmas ❤️

For me 130 kudos is very precious 🥹

[thegreenmeridian]

For Whumptober 2019, my first attempt at a Pacho fic.

@fmasha-l @elenatria @valerafan2 @potter012 @raul-eduardo-esparza @az-5-elimgarak @boisinberryjamarama

[elenatria]

If you ever draw/write about Bacho-"sexy vodka Dad" and Pavel-"I am a puppy too, look at me" i Will be finally able to go sleep in peace after the tears i have spent for this show, the dogs and all the things i have learnt over the years about Chernobyl and that will always terrify me (im from Italy sorry for my English).I have the unhealthy habit to use smut as a way to cope with fear and depression + i am a shipper trash + i love your art. Thats just me, 3,6 out of 15000 not great not terrible

Oops, I just realized this was the first mention of Vodka Dad. Sry. And darling, we’re all coping with something here. Coraggio.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407543/chapters/48586697

Strange, feverish dreams taunted Pavel’s sleep that night. Later on he wondered if it was too much vodka or the smoke he inhaled from his comrades’ joints; or maybe it was the constant worry that something might happen to the stranger who had taken him under his wing, the only man in his life who bothered to teach and protect him.

He dreamed of dogs with children’s faces and children with dogs’ faces grinning grotesquely at him, their teeth glinting in the sun. Closing one eye he pointed invisible guns at them, and he was suddenly five again. His father was giving him a toy rifle for his birthday although Pavel couldn’t see his face. “But it isn’t my birthday,” he tried to mumble, his lips and tongue heavy and swollen as if he had just been to the dentist. “Nonsense,” his father replied patting him on the back, “it is your birthday every day.”

The eerie abandoned yard from a childhood he never knew was replaced by red padded seats as he found himself watching “La Boheme” from the balcony of the National Opera House. Bacho was sitting next to him in a beautiful cream suit and a tie that were complementing his olive skin, holding his hand, crying. When Mimi in her deathbed sang to Rodolfo “Nobody is alone in April” Pavel turned to ask if that was the same Mimi they used to feed at the park, only to find him pointing the toy rifle at him before turning it against himself. Bacho steadied it under his chin and before Pavel could do anything to stop him, he pulled the trigger mouthing “Bang!”.

Pavel didn’t hear the deafening shot, instead he felt it in his gut when everything turned white, engulfing him in a deadly light.

Not a single sound came out of his throat even if he knew he was screaming his lungs out.

He woke with a jerk and a gasp and panted desperately for air, for toxic, poisonous, radioactive air, the only air that he had. The sweat on the nape of his neck and on his thighs was pooling under him making him sticky. Since he got there he thought that any dream with Bacho would make him hard and sticky but instead of delightful swelling and moisture, the only dampness on him was gathering in the corners of his swollen eyes. The shock of a voiceless cry was rippling through his body making him choke again and again until his whimpers weakened into silent sobs smothered by his pillow.

It didn’t take him long to remember he was crying like a baby in a tent with another nine men. He held his breath to listen: luckily, they were still in their cots, snoring. He cocked his head, looking for Bacho in the half-light.

The cot was empty.

He put his clothes on hastily and tiptoed out of the tent making sure there were no eyes watching him. Garo was the only man outside, sitting on a small barrel and smoking alone like he always did before breakfast, piercing the teal blue mist of dawn with his crimson snuff.

“Where’s Bacho?” Pavel asked.

Garo made a couple of smoke rings like a man relishing the solitude of an early morning before he bothered to reply. “Gone,” he croaked spitting out a leaf.

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” Pavel felt his pulse quicken furrowing his brow. “Why so early?”

“He’s gone hunting.” The Armenian inspected the boy’s lost expression with eyes as curious as they were fathomless. “Alone,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Well… did he say why?”

“No, he just told me to keep out of his face or he’d chop my balls off.” He tilted his head sideways resting his eyes below Pavel’s belt, as if to measure him. “Not sure you’d get the same treatment though,” his voice trailed off mysteriously.

Pavel stood in front of the man and gaped, unable to think of a fitting answer.

“He’s getting the truck now.” Garo puffed out the last smoke, threw down his cigarette and ground the butt into the dirt.  “You might want to catch him,” he nodded at Pavel knowingly.

Pavel’s eyes widened as he felt ants crawling all over his body.

Maybe it wasn’t too late.

With a single sharp inhale he held onto his hat and sprinted through the silent tents until he reached the trucks. He halted in the middle of the parking lot, frantically scanning the empty immobilized vehicles, almost sniffing the air for Bacho’s manly scent. He crossed a couple of aisles until he spotted the heel of a black boot disappearing into a truck. A veiny dark-skinned arm slammed the door closed.

“Wait!”

Pavel ran to the truck and banged his fist on the glass until Bacho was forced to lower it.

“What the fuck are you doing to my window?” the irascible Georgian barked. “Get the hell out of here, go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?” Pavel coughed trying to catch his breath.

“Animal control, what did you think?” Bacho spat, annoyed.

“Alone?”

“YES, alone, now keep walking.”

“I’m coming with you,” Pavel cut him off decidedly, ran around the front of the truck banging on the hood as if they were going on a picnic at the end of the rainbow and pulled at the door handle before Bacho could jump over the seats to push the lock down.

As Pavel barged into the truck he almost fell on Bacho who was still reaching for the lock. The older man raised his hands, defeated.

“I thought I wouldn’t babysit just this once…” he rolled his eyes.

“Who says you’ll have to babysit me?” Pavel quipped, his face as expressionless as a statue.

Bacho shook his head and started the engine, cursing under his breath.

[ursecondbirthmom]

Songs that I’d think would work when dancing with characters from Narcos/Narcos Mexico Part 1(may edit later)

I NEED feedback rn good or bad I need them and it’s very appreciated :))) also requests are open to anyone :))))

Pacho

Dios mío,,,this man has me under a spell it’s not funny

Honestly, this was kinda hard but I used the pacho brain rot I have :)

The thought process was he’s very full of himself and he chose dos gardenias in that one dance scene

so I have to choose something similar by nature

Tbh Dos Locos and Perfume de Gardenias came to mind

Dos locos just fits the relationship dynamic,,,

Dramatic, par de toxicos :))

It’s one of those songs you two dance to laughing

But perfume de gardenias is so ✨pacho in love✨

Just him being so deeply enamored with you

Worshipping your mind, body and you as a whole

Amado

Pinche totin mi esposo mi narizon

Honestly his section was kinda easier

Genuinely think Chalino Sanchez is what fits the best

Los chismes by chalino,,,,,

YES PLEASE

ONE CHANCE PLEASE AMADO

I see y’all dancing it at a balie

Everyone just trying to imitate :))

Wishing they had what y’all have :)))

And it just feeding into Amado’s ego

Dancing with you with a beer in hand y todo,,

Ugh stop this man is too perfect

Benjamin

AY MIN MI HERMOSO CARIÑO

Can I say Es Por Ti by Juanes?

He’s a dedicated man and this song just embodies his love for you

It just perfectly expresses how every time he wakes up with you is a blessing for him,,,

Hes such a hopeless romantic :((

Just like us:(((

Plz hug him :((((

but also,,

Sabor a mi or sin ti by los panchos

Just very smothering songs about love :(((

Like in the morning,,slow dancing with him

Everything is quiet and relaxing :(((

Just him so in love and dedicated to you :(((

Colonel Carrillo

Giggling at the thought of horacio dancing con el amor de su vida

The hc of him dancing with his lover to Suavecito by Malo started this shit show

Like I was cleaning when the song came on and I suddenly became Colonel Carrillo brain rot :))

Just such a soft song for domestic horacio

Why am I obsessed with being domestic with these psychos? Who knows :))

I feel like oldies are more his style

Both in Spanish and English :)))

I feel like y’all would dance this song at home,,,

While cleaning, making dinner, after dinner etc

Javier Peña

Ofc it’s not a hc list of narcos without the our favorite DEA whore

Let’s all collectively slut shame javi plz

He can’t dance

I’m sorry but he just can’t

But you make the effort to teach him :)

But hugging each other while listening to 505 by Arctic Monkeys,,,

Dancing to No Tengo Dinero by Juan Gabriel :)))

LIKE IN S3 WITH VICTOR BUT ITS U N JAVI AWWW

But Querida by Juan Gabriel :(((

That song embodies y’all’s relationship

This was really short but tell me who should I put in part 2!!

[vetustamorla]

quémame suavemente (burn me gently)

(read here on ao3)

A triptych. In my quest to give Álvaro a genuine personality, such as the show wasn't inclined to give, a story was born of the life the Herrera brothers had once led, how it had developed, and at journey's end.

[unfortunate-brat]

𝐋𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀 𝐀𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Pairing: Pacho Herrea (Alberto Ammann Ver.) x Latina!Reader (Mariposa)

Summary: Being a childhood best friend to Amado, she’s gotten caught in his complicated network of drug trafficking. It’s a life that comes with lots of caution and Y/N is worried about her tiny role until she meets one man that can make life just a little bit easier. 

A/N: I am accepting requests on this pairing; please send them to my inbox. Smut requests will not be accepted by minors, anons, no posts blogs, spam likers or ageless blogs. 

REQUESTING GUIDELINES

TBA

[cositapreciosa]

Ok I got it!!

“i feel like shit.” “you look like it, too.” *they bump shoulders* This one for Pacho, cause I just really want to see Pacho looking like shit for once😂

Also since it’s Pacho, feel free to make the OC gn or male if it makes your more comfortable! Thank you❤️

Brown eyes

Pacho Herrera x gn!reader, 1243 words

mentions of small injuries, mentions of wanting to kill someone? As always it's the fictional, not the real deal

a/n : okay so I wasn't sure how to end this one, but hey, enjoy !

It is your co-worker knocking on your office door that makes you raise your head from your paperwork. He slowly walks in and waits for you to take off your glasses before you mention to him to go ahead,

‘’ Boss, señor Herrera is here for you... ‘’

The surprise on your face is evident. Crushing numbers for the gentlemen de Cali hadn’t always been that stable of a job over the years, but your work was good, one of the best in your field, with a resume to prove it. The legality of it all never really bothered you and the pay was way beyond what anyone could expect for a position like yours. It came with perks, protection, money. Meeting with them was recurrent business, either through monthly reports, birthday parties, or associates meetings. You were part of the inner circle after all. But Pacho being here? In your office? This building had always been the only place where no one was allowed. The confidentiality, the secretness of your work, it was a must, and for Pacho to be here, something big had happened.

Your co-worker barely finishes his sentence that señor Herrera himself barges in from behind him and the poor man knows better than to stay around, closing the door behind him. Pacho stands tall in front of your desk and you have to lift your head to look at him. The sight almost frightens you. Dried blood cakes his hair, sliding down the side of his face, the pomade he applied this morning is not fixing the hairstyle like it is supposed to. Beautiful brown locks sticking to the sweat on his forehead, holding on for dear life. He finally exhale, shoulders visibly relaxing. You get up from your chair, pointing to the crystal decanter on your desk, rising your eyebrow in a silent question and he is fast to nod.

You always liked working with him more than the other gentlemen. Trusting him proved to be naturally easy, Pacho rapidly proved himself to you in the many times he had saved your life without hesitation. Bringing you coffee in early mornings or walking you to your car after dark, leaning closer and closer every time, his soft brown eyes meeting yours. You would trust Pacho with your life, and you sometimes wonder if it would be greedy to want more to this partnership. You pour him a drink, the rim of the bottle clinking against the glass. You notice his shirt, ripped near the shoulder, the dirt smeared on his face and you wonder for a second if he didn't just crawl his way in the building.

You break the silence, ‘’ Here, ‘’ you extend your arm to give him his drink, now standing between him and your desk. He takes it with an eager hand, fingers touching yours, and nearly drinks the whole thing in one take.

‘’ I feel like shit. ‘’

He wipes the alcohol from his lips and laughs, his smile doesn't reach his eyes like it usually does. The sound is void of any humor, choked in his throat, eyes blank, empty. There is blood on the side of his nose and you question if touching him would be too much. You can tell he’s seen awful things today, things you know he won’t want to talk about. The dirt, the regrets, the guilt, you want to wipe it all off him. You decide to wait, keeping your hands on your side,

‘’ You look like it, too. ‘’

He scoffs and his shoulder bumps yours as he goes for the alcohol. His whole hand is around the bottle’s neck as he fills his glass once again. He is so much closer now, his scent is overwhelming. Spicy, warm, rich. He looks at you, the liquor finding his mouth once more.

‘’ What happened? ‘’ You question. Your eyes meet his as he sighs. You are sure your cheeks are flushed, pulsing, you feel your heart in your face. He is still so close to you. It does make you feel better when you notice that his are too. You can see how he hesitates and you know he is reciting the words in his head before he has to say them out loud. He is probably wondering if you should be let on the whole thing, and if he wasn’t already looking like hell, you would have made sure of it,

‘’ Y/N... ‘’ He trails off, ‘’ You have to leave. You have to get out of the city for a bit. ‘’

‘’ You know I can’t just leave now, ‘’ you are quick to protest, ‘’ Pacho, what happened? You’re still bleeding, por Dios. ‘’

Your mind is screaming at you not to, but you still bring your fingers upon his nose, wiping at the dried blood, ‘’ And you look horrible. ‘’

He smiles faintly and your heart burst when he presses his hand on yours, as he gently kisses your palm. Your hand is still warm on his face when he speaks,

‘’ It’s the Salazars, they ambushed us in a lab in San Marcos. They know about you. ‘’

You knew this would happen someday, having to move around and probably stay low for a while. But you want to know, you have to know, ‘’ If I leave, ‘’ you prompted slowly, ‘’ Will you be coming with me? ‘’

You want him to leave with you and you are aware of how selfish it sounds. Your hand is still caressing his cheek, small strokes of your thumb against his cheekbone, trying to tell yourself that you just want to rub the blood away. You already know what the answer is going to be, you’re not sure why you asked,

‘’ I wish I could, cariño. I’ll visit every few days, hmm? To make sure you’re alright. ‘’ His hand lifts to where your jaw meets the neck, slightly squeezing. As he explains, you can’t miss how he forces himself to sound reassuring,

‘’ It’s temporary. I will find them. I will kill them all, I swear, and then you come back to me. ‘’

His lips are trembling with rage. His grip on your neck is grounding you, warm,

‘’ I’ll wait for you then. ‘’ Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, as if saying it too loud would curse it. He nods at your words, a few rapid quick motions of the head. Good, he murmurs, hand still on your neck, good. He lets out a deep breath, please, he almost wants to say, please. He pulls you to him, burying his nose in your hair, his hand cradling your face to his chest. Your heart beats fast in your rib cage,

‘’ Fuck, I’m just glad you’re okay. ‘’

You melt in his embrace, your arms wrapping around his torso, fingers desperately grasping at the silk. You can feel the rage that is radiating off of him from how warm he is under your fingertips, and you don’t doubt his words. He’s all you can smell, all you can feel, making you almost wish time could stop for a second. Spicy, warm, rich. You hold him closer, cling to him a little tighter. You know it is only a matter of time before he fixes everything like he always does, a matter of days, weeks at most before you can come back to Cali, to him.

Spicy, warm, rich. Home.

[thesolotomyhan]

Hello bi man here! Please stop writing stuff with Pacho and female reader characters. He makes it clear he is not interested in women at all and to still write him as vaguely bisexual when he turns down women on the basis of being gay is kind of borderline homophobic and very uncomfortable.

hi! so first off thank you for being nice instead of bashing i appreciate that! :)

secondly i do very much realize this and yes its very clear hes nothing else but gay and i never meant to change his strict sexuality for everyone who does read my works and i know i may sound like im disregarding what you say even tho i wholeheartedly respect the lgbt+ community (considering i even have family members and even mutuals on here that belong to that group) i only ever write to satisfy my followers on the basis of un-harmful fan fiction that can steer off of canon sometimes,, (because even when i write things like these i never intend to romantize the real narcos, i only intend to write on the basis of the actor) 

i don’t ever mean to come off as anti-lgbt+ really i don’t,, because i do respect them and i truly do realize where youre coming from when you say its uncomfortable but i cant guarantee you a promise when im only just trying to write what my followers request,, but i will pause all works i have requested for him indefinitely! 

[ashlingnarcos]

Carrillo and Pacho for your random pairing challenge, just because I can’t imagine it at all but it’ll be so hot😆

@purplesong1028: 💛sorry for the wait!

Pacho’s new to the Cali cartel and looking to take out a mid-level enemy, and with this being one of his first missions afield, he wants to prove himself to Gilberto and Miguel and Chepe. He’s young, Medellín is new territory to him, and he’s ready for adventure.

Carrillo’s commanding his own unit for the first time, and as the oldest son of a fearsome Santanderean general, he wants to prove himself, so he’s going off the books with a friend to rustle up some information. He’s young, Medellín is new territory to him, and he’s ready for adventure.

They are, of course, hunting the same man.

Carrillo doesn’t know that yet.

Gay bar, dancing. Carrillo sticks out like a sore thumb; the man can’t dance. But he’s convincing enough in the manner of a guy new to it all that he’s generally accepted as a harmless buffoon, rather than some type of threat.

The guy goes into a back room. Carrillo simply follows the man after a few seconds, looking like he knows what he’s doing for the first time in a while. He has the guy’s hands zip tied and hauls him towards the door, intending to take him to a hideout for questioning. There’s a scraping sound, and he catches a glimpse of someone following him, but isn’t able to see in time before the person darts behind a door, so he just focuses on getting out of there faster.

Right outside the back door, someone knocks the gun out of his hands and goes after him with a knife. Swift savage slashes, he’s blocking it with his forearms, and finally pins the man down and breaks his arm.

In the meantime, Carrillo’s buddy has pulled up in their getaway car and is wrestling the captive into it: let’s go, let’s go. Carrillo runs—it will only take a couple seconds—

Mistake.

From over Carrillo’s left shoulder come two whistling shots; he watches his captive’s head explode into a bloody mess, then his friend’s. Turns.

The man is smiling, his right arm hanging at a bad angle, his left hand steady on the gun. He can shoot nearly as well with his left hand as he can with his right. He can do most anything.

And Carrillo, who had not recognized him earlier, sees that smile and remembers—this man, earlier, he had danced with this man and thought nothing of him. This man had even introduced himself: Pacho. Something bursts in Carrillo’s gut—shame, probably, he thinks.

He does not know it, but when they danced, Pacho didn’t know who Carrillo was, didn’t care, and neither of them were particularly interested in each other, only in staying close to the target. He’ll never know it. In this moment, Carrillo only thinks that Pacho must have known all along and all along been grinning at him, on the inside, much as he’s grinning now, with a raw animal satisfaction.

It’s shame, isn’t it. This man’s hands on his hips. It’s.

At the time, it had been nothing, but now, knowing the man as an enemy, it’s no longer that simple.

Carrillo stands up straight, holds himself still. His arms are ribboned in blood from the knife fight; his blood drips onto the back alley dirt. Friday night in Medellín is never quiet, but for some reason he can’t hear it.

The smile melts off Pacho’s face, and he raises the gun again, quite deliberately. The bullet nicks Carrillo’s head; barely any blood. He didn’t flinch. Pacho appears to consider this.

It’s too long a distance to run. Any other man, and Carrillo would be charging full tilt at him right now, more than willing to take a few bullets scattered across his chest, his stomach, just for that brief shining moment he’d have with his hands around the throat—but he knows, now, that Pacho would have him down easily as blinking, headshot inevitable. So he stands there, and Pacho considers him, and then Pacho shoots.

Carrillo’s on the ground. Silent, still. Biting down so hard on nothing that he all but fractures his own jaw. It was a bullet through the arm—his right arm. Now they match, though not quite. A bullet’s worse than a clean break. And that’s not counting the two bodies in the car. But Carrillo himself isn’t dead, and he isn’t going to die anytime soon, either. He looks up.

Pacho is gone.

Medellín is too big a city; the night sky above is completely starless.

Carrillo looks again. Pacho is still gone.

[purplesong1028]

Of Men and Games

Chapter 1: A New Game

To a lot of people in their country, Fernando Mateo Gomez is the perfect poster boy, but to Cali or any other cartel, this is the worst kind of politician to strike a deal with. The reason is simple: they don’t need anything.

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Pacho/Male OC

Words: 2,175

“My partner will be here soon.” Pacho turns to the man walking besides him along the horse ranch. “I have to say, we didn’t expect you to be half an hour early, Señor Gomez.”

“Please, call me Fernando.” The young politician takes off his sunglasses, squinting a little under the sunlight, but it doesn’t make his smile any less brighter. “The state council meeting ended early, and I just couldn’t wait for another second to get the hell out of there, you know?”

“I could imagine.” Pacho stops in front of a tall, light brown mare, gently running his fingers along her smooth hair. “But in that case, I’m afraid you just walked yourself right into another meeting.”

“Ah that’s fine, completely different kind of meeting.” Fernando observes the beautiful horse from the side, eyes sparkling with sheer appreciation. “Hey wait…isn’t she the champion from three years ago? Catalina! Sí?”

“Sí, Catalina. She won her last trophy three years ago before she retired.”

“I’m glad she found such a nice new home.” Fernando smiles fondly as he looks around the ranch where several other horses are running around on vast green. “I love horses, always had a soft spot for them.”

They fall silent as the guest seemingly lost himself in the scene, and for a moment, Pacho starts to suspect if this is the politician’s way of hinting he wants a horse from him, which sure as hell isn’t happening.

“My bad, I got distracted.” Before he could think deeper, Fernando snaps himself out of it, laughing apologetically. “It’s just been a while since I last saw my own horses back at home.”

“No worries, you’re welcomed to pet any of them if you want.” Pacho puts on his standard polite smile, gesturing one of the equestrians to come over.

“No, it’s ok. I get it. They’re not dogs, not all of them like strangers.” Fernando gestures to stop the equestrian, and nods at the little pavilion in front of them, where several waiters are setting up the table. “I assume that’s where we’re going?”

“After you.”

***

Once they settle down, Pacho takes a good look at the young governor for the first time. He’s no stranger to that handsome face, since it’s been all over the news for a few months now. Well-established family, Ivy League education, the youngest person to ever serve as a governor in the history of Colombia… To a lot of people in their country, Fernando Mateo Gomez is the perfect poster boy, but to Cali or any other cartel, this is the worst kind of politician to strike a deal with.

The reason is simple: they don’t need anything; not money, not votes, not women, and in most cases, they don’t even have enemies they can’t take care of by themselves. There’s no reason for them to risk what they already have by associating themselves with drug trades. Therefore, when Fernando took office as the new governor of a state where Cali owns multiple ports, Gilberto made it quite clear that the first priority was to ensure their deal with the old governor would stay. Usually, the most efficient way to get someone’s cooperation is through blackmailing, which they had Jorge working on immediately. However, before they found anything substantial, to their surprise, the new governor was the first one to reach out.

“I believe your organization has some unfinished business with my predecessor.” He sounded polite and curious over the phone, even a bit excited for some reason. “I thinks it would be the best for us to meet and discuss in detail.”

***

So here they are, sitting across from each other, with two glasses of wine and a very exquisite cheese platter in between.

Fernando glances at the empty chair next to them, “I assume you’d want to wait for your partner before we start talking business?”

“We won’t draw any conclusion before everyone’s here, but feel free to talk to me.”

Pacho takes a grape from the cheese platter and puts it into his mouth, something completely mundane and unimportant. But at that exact moment, although it only lasted for a split second, his guest was absolutely following his movements with an intense gaze, from fingertips to lips.

“That’s ok. It’s nice to take a break and enjoy the view.” Fernando quickly shifts his focus to something behind Pacho, could be another horse, or it could be the clear blue sky.

Pacho tries his best to hide a smile. Well…who would have thought? What a surprisingly interesting turn of events.

“The view?”

Fernando raises the wine glass, and looks directly into his eyes with striking candidness and determination, like a soldier charging into the battle field with full force after a minor setback. “Well, I have to admit, everything so far has been…very pleasant.”

Pacho gives a thoughtful look to the glass waiting to be clicked, but leaves it hanging midair, for now. “Pleasant? How come?”

“Well, about two weeks ago I was invited to this party with a few other governors and congressmen.” Fernando brings his glass back and takes a sip, doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the rejection. “It was hosted by Pablo Escobar, and man…what a fucking disaster.”

“Are you seriously telling me…” Pacho cross his hands and leans forward with a firm stare, “that you’re also Pablo Escobar’s valued guest?”

“No, I’m telling you I did not like his party, or the purpose of that party.” Fernando’s keeping his voice calm, but his nervousness is showing from the way his tightens his grasp on the wine glass. “I assume it’s not a secret to you that he’s planning to run for office.”

“Why do you not like that?” Pacho makes an open-armed gesture toward their surroundings. “I assume it’s not because you have a problem with what he does.”

“No, I’m not someone like Galán, as admirable as that would be.” He drinks a large gulp of wine, “Look, the way I see it, he’s trying to play a completely new game with the same rules in his old game, and that can’t possibly end well.”

“And why do you care if it ends well for him or not?”

“Because it’s not just for him. If he keeps going at it…” The politician takes a deep breath before giving the closing line of his argument. Pacho has seen him doing that so many times on TV, that it’s almost a bit funny seeing it in real life.

“There’s a chance that, he might ruin both games.”

With that, Fernando simply stops talking and locks their eyes across the table, with layers of complicated emotions flashing across his dark pupils. Now that is something Pacho’s never seen before, so he takes his sweet time studying it: it’s vulnerable in a way, but not weak, hopeful yet reserved.

It’s an honest look, and a very endearing one.

***

Pacho smiles and raises his glass, mimicking what his lovely guest did earlier. “That was hell of an answer.”

Fernando immediately laughs out, not trying to hide the fact that he was holding his breath. “Well, I’m very happy it all worked out.”

“No, not so fast,” Pacho refills both their glasses, “you still haven’t answered my first question.”

“What was that?”

“What I asked, was how is this pleasant to you, before we got distracted with the whole Escobar issue.”

“Oh that!” Fernando takes a few seconds to swallow a piece of gruyere cheese. “Well, when I mentioned Escobar, I was trying to say his party was loud and obnoxious. There was a freaking monkey drinking tequila, and a bunch of women in swimsuits.”

Pacho hides his smirk behind the glass, the wine tasting even sweeter now with the sight in front of him. “I assume that’s not your type of scene.”

“No. I prefer this type of scene a lot more.” Fernando raises his eyebrows, and flashes him a cheeky smile. “Hope it’s ok for me to say this, but I’ve seen your pictures on newspapers, and they really don’t do you justice.”

Pacho regards his handsome guest with a smooth, intentional stare: his meticulously styled dark hair, full lips that always curve up, long fingers tapping on the wine glass…

“Maybe the newspaper should hire your photographers. They seem to do you justice pretty well.”

“You know, I might not know what you looked like before, but I’ve heard stories about you.” Fernando tilts his head slightly to the side, as if he’s thinking back to the stories right now. “Quite a lot, actually.”

Pacho smiles, holding Fernando’s suggestive gaze with a teasing one. Politicians…doesn’t matter how smart they are, or the fact that they have a bright smile, and eyes like obsidians, their tricks are always old-fashioned.

“All good stories, I suppose?”

“Not good or bad, for that matter. Just interesting.”

“Even better.” Pacho leans forward, just slightly, barely a hint. “No one likes boring.”

“That’s right. This is the least boring 20 minutes I’ve ever spent with anyone.”

***

Fernando traces the edge of his glass, carefully wiping away a drop of wine. The scarlet liquid rests delicately on his fingertip, before flowing down the smooth skin on his palm.

Pacho licks his lip.

“Do you know what game you’re playing?”

“I’m just getting started in the game. I’ve got time to figure it out.” Fernando covers his hand with a napkin, wiping it clean.

“Everyone believes that.” Pacho suddenly reaches over to press his own hand on the napkin, closing his fingers tightly around Fernando’s wrist. “But you should be careful, my friend, sometimes our time runs out before we realize.”

“My apologies, have I offended you in any way?” There’s caution in his voice, but not the tiniest sense of fear, his pulse slightly elevated under Pacho’s grasp. “Because that sounds like a threat.”

“If I were to threaten you, you wouldn’t need to ask for confirmation.” Pacho chuckles with genuine amusement, loosening his grip to let the napkin fall down. “So no, it’s just a well-intended warning. You are awfully open for a politician.”

“What can I say? I like straightforwardness.” Fernando gently brushes his fingertips along the back of Pacho’s hand. “But I’m never open to wrong people, about wrong things.”

“Then answer me this, and I’m only going to ask you once.” Pacho takes his hand and gently presses it down on the table.

***

“Why are you here?”

Fernando looks down at their folded hands, and then, for the first time, looks to the side to avoid Pacho’s gaze, like he’s finding the right words to say. But Pacho’s not in a rush, because this is finally getting to the good part, the part he’s been wondering ever since he received that call from the young governor, the part that even Gilberto couldn’t figure out prior to this meeting.

“Up until now, I’ve been playing a game that I’m supposed to…expected to play.”

“You mean your family.”

“Yeah, it’s not a game, really, more like a script, already written on the day I was born.”

“But I want to change that.” Fernando finishes half of his glass in one go, like he’s drinking some hard liquor instead of wine. “It’s not about money, and I’m not looking for a favor, at least not for now, but I want my own game.”

The young politician meets his eyes with unprecedented excitement and raw ambition, “So I would really appreciate a friend like you.”

“A friend like me, and this so-called game, isn’t what you imagined.” Pacho scoffs and shakes his head; in a way, this almost feels anticlimactic, just some spoiled rich boy going through his much-delayed rebellious phase. “Be careful what you wish for, before you waste my time.”

“I understand why you see it that way, but here’s the thing.” Fernando tries to move his hand under Pacho’s, and when he fails to do that, he places his other hand on top, so now both of his hands are on the table. “I might not be what you imagined, and I think you should give me a chance to prove that.”

“And if you fail to prove it?”

“Well…” Fernando bites his lip, fingertips drawing little patterns on the back of Pacho’s hand, but his voice is serious and determined. “Then I guess it’s up to you.”

“Very well,” Pacho retrieves his hand, looking at the sky where a helicopter is approaching, “then I suppose my partner will be very happy with the good news.”

Fernando takes the chance to lean closer, raising his voice. “That’s great! But too bad we don’t have more time alone here, right?”

Pacho fixes his lips with a stare, but doesn’t move one inch, “If you’re as honest as you claim to be, this won’t be the last time you see me.”

“I’d like that, Señor Herrera.”

“Please,” Pacho sits back straight as Gilberto walks toward them, “Call me Pacho.”

@ashlingnarcos @yourlocalspacewitxch @mandaloria314 @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @narcolini @kesskirata @cheesybadgers @marrianena

[nerryend]

Pacho×Javier