#walt breslin x reader

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

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

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

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

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

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[5]ᅳ 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢́𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐨 ✟

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can't find answers to these questions.

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

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

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

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Aruba Island, Kingdom of the Netherlands

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want you to answer truthfully, Mija."

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

"You know what I do, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Should I be afraid then?"

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

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

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

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

That was another truth you decided to reveal to him.

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

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

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

But his decision in the end surprised you.

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

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

"Will you dance with me?"

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

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

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

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

This wasn't right at all.

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

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

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

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

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

#narcos: mexico #amado carrillo fuentes #narcos mexico netflix #narcos x reader #amado carrillo fuentes x reader #amado carrillo fuentes x you #narcos fic #narcos mexico fanfic #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos: mexico tv series #walt breslin #walt breslin x you #walt breslin x reader #jose maria yazpik #scoot mcnairy #Renegada♱

[drabbles-mc]

Unprofessional

Walt Breslin x F!Reader

For Day 10 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: jealousy

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking, alcohol, smut

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: The way that I had to fight myself to not let this turn into a 10k fic 😂 I'm already in love with this reader and the general vibe of this fic and idkidk maybe I'll write more for them down the road. Who knows? Not me!

NMX Taglist: @narcolini @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @garbinge @cositapreciosa @southotheborder @artemiseamoon @proceduralpassion (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Walt watched as Sal’s car rolled up to the motel that you and Walt were staying at. He was glad that you at least let someone else bring you home, because based off how you were when he’d left the bar a little more than an hour before, you probably shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. It was usually him that was driving you to and from wherever you had to go, or vice versa on days when Walt didn’t want to put up a fight about it. Judging by the way you were laughing as you opened the door and stepped out of Sal’s car, you didn’t seem to mind the switch up.

He watched you as you leaned on the edge of the window, smiling and laughing still as you thanked Sal and told him that you’d see him tomorrow.  Walt caught the way the man waved to him as well, and he returned the gesture from his chair. It was your chair, actually. It’d come out of your room. You set it up in the little stretch of space between the door to your motel room, and the door to Walt’s. You’d be sitting there with your coffee in the morning, and Walt would sometimes be out there in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, dragging on his cigarettes, not unlike he was now.

You were practically sauntering up to him, the headlights of Sal’s car behind you rendering you as nothing more than a silhouette in the few seconds before he turned around and peeled out the lot to head back to his own spot.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile, “you left early.”

He shrugged, noncommittal. “Yea.”

You still felt like you were buzzing, warm more from the alcohol than the actual temperature. Still, even in your slight haze, you could see the annoyance on Walt’s face. “You okay?”

He gave a short nod, his tone and his words not lining up in the slightest as he said, “I’m fine.”

You were in no mood to try and pull it out of him, and even if you were, you didn’t know if you would be anything close to successful. So instead, you swiped the pack of cigarettes off the arm of the chair he was sitting in and took one out for yourself. The two of you were in a constant loop of bumming them off each other—neither of you bothered asking anymore.

“You know,” you spoke as well as you could with your lips wrapped around the cigarette—you sparked the lighter before continuing, “I know shit has been real rough lately, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ever have a good time.”

Walt shook his head, like you were saying the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Looked like you were all having a good enough—”

“Would’ve been nice if you were there, though,” you cut him off, smoke swirling out from between your lips as you spoke. “Couldn’t take, what, three hours out of the twenty-four to not be all broody?” you said, just enough of a smile on your face to keep that question from starting a full-blown argument. Walt gave you another shake of his head and it only caused you to double-down. “We missed you.”

He scoffed. “Didn’t seem like you were missing much of anything when I left.”

You burst out laughing at that. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I’m just,” he took a drag off his cigarette, “just surprised that Sal brought you back. Looked like you were gonna be goin’ home with your new friend there at the bar.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing as you tapped the ash off the end of your smoke. “You think I’m that easy, Breslin?”

He frowned slightly as he shrugged, an expression that was less about being upset and more about being uncertain. “I don’t know what I think about you.”

The statement was a little bit of a lie. Walt thought about you plenty. Some of it had to do with work, a lot of it didn’t. He’d had plenty of time to think about you since he met you, but there was still a lot that he didn’t know. Like how suave and flirty you could be when you were trying to get a free drink or two out of someone, like how watching you do that put a knot in his gut that had no right to be there.

It was the first time the two of you had ever worked together. Before you all got pulled together into the Smash & Grab that you now were, Walt was working in El Paso while you came over from Miami. Neither of you had known each other prior to this, and while you noticed that Walt seemed to have built a rapport with a few of the other men on his team, you were flying in completely blind. You didn’t know anyone. Walt quickly noticed, however, that that didn’t seem to slow you down. You quickly made it part of your job to get to know everyone at least a little bit, just enough to figure out how you should interact with them for the sake of not letting the team fray apart at the edges. It was a good skill, one Walt made a mental note to work on if you all made it out of this mess alive.

All of you had your own rooms, scattered across a few different low-budget motels. You were all smart enough to not all hole up in the same place together, but no one wanted to be completely alone. There was a fine line between having safety in numbers, and making yourselves easy targets to get wiped out in one fell swoop.

Your rooms weren’t adjoining, but you and Walt did share a wall. The walls were thin enough for him to hear the muffled sounds of your television, or for you to hear him if he was on the phone with someone, but you’d have to have your ear pinned tight to the wall if you wanted to make out the exact words on the other side.

He felt like he’d learned a fair bit about you in the relatively short span of time that he was your neighbor, one flimsy wall away from being your roommate. You were always up early, but went to bed late. He only had the latter part of that down for himself—he’d never mastered being a morning person. He’d step outside to have his first cigarette of the morning and you would already be up, coffee in one hand and a manila folder packed with information in the other. But there were still too many blanks for him to have any right feeling the way he felt about you.

“Hey,” you said with a quiet laugh as you tapped the side of his boot with yours, “Earth to Breslin.” You waited for him to look over at you. “Are we good?”

He shrugged, nodding. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know,” you said as you took an inhale from your cigarette, the warmth from your liquor at the bar fading for the moment as you tried to figure out why it felt like things were suddenly off-kilter between the two of you. “You took off, and now you’re acting different. So…are we good?”

“You just,” he looked everywhere but at you, knowing that he was digging himself into a hole that was going to be a bitch to try and get out of, “you gotta be careful.”

“About what?”

“About all of it!” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out with the ball of his foot. “You can’t trust anyone we—”

“The guy bought me a drink, Walt,” you cut him off, unable to believe that this was the conversation the two of you were having. “I wasn’t telling him trade secrets. Fuck, I didn’t even give him my real name. As far as he knows,” you gestured to where Sal had been a few minutes before, “Sal is my fuckin’ boyfriend.”

Leaning back in the chair, he finally looked at you. “Alright.”

You shook your head. “Alright.” You paused for a beat. “You know, maybe you should’ve stayed for an extra drink or two. Maybe you could loosen up for all of two minutes.”

He didn’t want to keep arguing with you. Really, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Even so, it took more effort than it should’ve for him to finally say, “Maybe.”

You weren’t really looking for an argument either. You’d left the bar in a perfectly chipper mood and the last thing you wanted was for it all to fizzle out now. You hadn’t expected to come back to this. Walt always had that edge to him, an overtone of sourness, but this felt different.

“There something we should talk about?” you asked.

Of course there was. There were plenty of things that he should talk to you about. But he wasn’t going to start those conversations, didn’t really know how to. Instead, he pushed up out of his chair, standing up so that the two of you were hardly a step away from each other.

“Shit’s different down here,” he finally said. “So just, just be careful.”

“It’s a little late in the game to have doubts about me now,” you told him. “If you have issues with what I did, how I operate, then you shouldn’t have brought me all the way—”

“It’s not that,” he cut you off. He could tell by the look on your face that you wanted to snap and say, “Then what the fuck is it?” but he didn’t know if he was ready to get into all of that. It definitely didn’t feel like the right time now. “I just…don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He knew that the statement was skating too close to the complete truth, so he tried to cushion it with, “All you guys, you’re my responsibility. I don’t want shit going south if we can prevent it.”

“Can you be less of a pain in the ass about it?” you asked, the smallest hint of lightness returning to your tone.

He let out a weary chuckle. “I can try.”

You waited for him to have something else to say, but when it didn’t seem like he was going to, you prodded. “Anything else?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he backpedaled on it. “No.”

You had the nagging feeling that the conversation wasn’t done, but you didn’t know how to continue it without letting it devolve into another argument. Putting out your cigarette, you gestured to your room. “Drink? Since you bailed early.”

Walt knew that he shouldn’t go, that he should just turn and head back into his own room. But he felt like he owed you this. It was the best he could do for an apology without having to actually apologize.

“So,” he sat on the edge of one of the two beds in your room, the one that didn’t seem like you slept on it every night, “what’d you tell him?”

“Hm?” you asked as you poured liquor from the bottle in your bag into two paper cups. It wasn’t as nice as drinks at the bar, but Walt lost that opportunity quite a while ago.

“Said you didn’t tell the guy your real name. What’d you tell him?” He was as curious as he was jealous. It was a side of you he’d never seen before and he wondered if any of it was genuine.

You laughed as you handed him one of the cups, taking a seat on the end of the bed next to him. “I’ve got a whole rolodex of lines I give people in bars,” you took a sip of your drink, “especially when I’m working.”

He chuckled at the mental image of that, just cards upon cards flipping through in your brain whenever someone approached you and offered to buy you a drink. “Yea?”

“Yea. Why? Looking for some pointers?” you asked as you nudged his shoulder with yours.

“No, no.”

“Sounds like you might be,” you joked. “Should’ve stuck around and seen it for yourself.”

“I saw plenty,” he mumbled out without thinking better of it.

The statement didn’t give you pause so much as the way he said it. Turning to face him, you asked, “What was that?”

He shook his head, a little too quick to be casual. “Nothing.”

The fresh wave of warmth washing over you from the drink you’d been sipping on didn’t slow down the turning of the gears in your brain. “Is…is that why you—”

“No,” he cut you off, already knowing where the sentence was going and not wanting it to go there.”

Your eyes widened for a moment. “All that shit about me being careful,” you shook your head, “and you’ve been sulking here this whole time because you were jealous?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say it like that,” he told you, unable to look you in the eyes.

Leaning back, you braced the palm of your empty hand against the mattress. “Then look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.” The silence that passed spoke volumes, as did the fact that Walt’s eyes stayed glued to the cup in his hands. “You could’ve offered to buy me a drink,” you said, shifting your tone a little bit, softening the conversation just slightly.

Walt rolled his eyes, not liking the fact that this was all starting to feel a lot like pity. “It’s not,” he sighed, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “just forget it.”

“No,” you said with a laugh, “I won’t.”

Finally, he turned and looked at you. “I have never seen you act like that with anyone before.”

You chuckled. “Yea, well, that’s because they say it’s usually bad form to flirt with your coworkers. Bedroom eyes are unprofessional, apparently.”

That got a choked laugh out of him. “Apparently.”

“I like you, Walt,” you said.

His eyes widened for a moment as he registered what you’d just said. “Yea?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yea. When you’re not pouting quite so much, I like being around you. I’m, you know,” you gestured to the wall behind you, behind the headboards, “I’m glad I share a wall with you.”

His eyes dropped back to the floor. “It’d be stupid to do something, right?”

You shrugged, finishing off your drink. “Yea. But, I mean,” you laughed softly, “it’s also kinda stupid to get jealous over some random guy in a bar buying me a drink sooo…” your voice trailed off.

Walt sighed, letting his head drop back so that he was looking up at the ceiling. No matter what did or didn’t happen next, he knew that he wasn’t ever going to live that down. “Right.”

He followed your lead, finishing off his drink as well. You could see it in his body language that he was about to get up and leave, take the few short steps that would get him back to his room on the other side of the wall. You didn’t want him to go.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Walt?”

He looked over at you, and only got half a syllable out of whatever his response was going to be before you leaned in and brought your lips to his. You felt the way he froze for a moment, a brief hesitation that almost had you pulling away and apologizing. You two had just finished saying it would be a stupid idea.

But then Walt’s brain caught up with the rest of him and he was kissing you back. Empty paper cups fell almost silently to the floor as you brought the hand that wasn’t helping you keep your balance to his chest, fingers curling into the cloth of his flannel and pulling him towards you even more. Walt had one hand on your thigh, the other barely grazing the side of your face, like he was afraid to commit to holding it.

If the circumstances had been different, maybe you would’ve taken your time. Knowing that Walt had been stewing on those feelings for however long would’ve made you a little more patient. But every second since you crossed the border had felt borrowed, and you didn’t want to waste a single one. So you quickly maneuvered yourself, swinging one leg over him so that you were sitting, straddling his lap.

You ran both hands up Walt’s chest, and despite the fact that he still had on his flannel and his t-shirt, he still let out a, “Fuck,” under his breath as your palms and fingers raked over him. His hands settled on your hips as you kissed him again. All either of you could taste off each other was liquor and cigarettes, but at least it was honest.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders as you began to grind your hips against his. He moaned into your mouth as he kissed you, hands sliding from your hips to your ass. Whatever hesitation he’d felt before was long gone now, along with the annoyances the two of you had been volleying back and forth since you got back.

You pulled away just enough so that you could pull your shirt off over your head. Walt was left slack jawed for a moment, taking in the sight of you on his lap with nothing on but your bra and jeans. When the gears finally started turning again, he ran through all the buttons on his shirt faster than you’ve ever seen anyone ever do it before. Within seconds, both his shirts were discarded onto the floor alongside yours.

His hands came to rest on your sides, gentle at first, like he was still wrapping his mind around the fact that he got to touch you like this. Then he gripped onto you with a little more force, bringing you back in so he could kiss you again. His arms wrapped around you, hands splaying across your back. Every motion was punctuated with blunt fingernails and rough callouses, the sensation of it making you put a little more urgency in your movements as your hips moved against his.

Letting his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, he spoke, words coming out muffled against your mouth but you could make them out well enough as he said, “C’mere.”

Deceptively strong in a way that caught you off-guard, Walt had you on your back on the mattress, himself positioned between your legs and hovering over your chest. He kissed you on the lips one more time before pulling away from you. He pulled away just enough so that he could undo the button and zipper of your jeans. You quickly toed off your boots, making it easier for Walt to pull your pants and underwear down your legs and completely off you. You shimmied a little farther up the bed as he rid himself of the last of his clothing as well.

Then he was right back on top of you, one hand cupping your face, one hand gripping onto your thigh. You didn’t let him pull his lips back off of yours, desperate for just a little more. Sliding one hand down between your bodies, you wrapped it around him. The contact immediately caused him to moan, made him buck into your hand even though you hadn’t started moving it yet.

Smiling into the kiss, you brought your other hand up, lacing your fingers through his hair and gripping, tugging just slightly as your other hand started to slowly move up and down his length. He muttered curses against your lips as he brought the hand that was on your thigh between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that he hadn’t even dared to daydream about.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you lined him up at your entrance. You let him feel how wet you already were, dragging the head of him up and down your slit. His hand was balled into a tight fist on the sheets beside your head, trying to have a modicum of self-control. You saw how hard he was fighting to keep it together, and you almost wanted to have something slick to say, but more than that you just wanted him inside you, so you guided him in and he had no hesitation about thrusting the rest of the way into you.

All the stress, the anger, the weight of the world that Walt always made himself carry around on his own shoulders, it all seemed to disappear for a moment. You wondered if it was because he finally found a good enough distraction, or if it was because he could channel all that anger with the world into the thrust of his hips. Maybe things just seemed a little less hopeless when he had you saying his name against the shell of his ear, asking for more.

You made it so easy for him to not have to think about anything but you. Every single part of you felt like it was there for him in that moment, and that feeling alone almost had him seeing stars right off the rip.

He could hear it in your voice, the way you gasped and whined, that you were close. Your nails raked down the side of his face, over the stubble that was getting longer by the day, searching for any kind of tether to hold onto. Your nails left a series of crescents behind, digging into his shoulder and back as you came, your hips desperately bucking up against his. He followed shortly after, reveling in the feel of you, in knowing that he was able to get you like this. He kissed you hard as he came inside you, rough enough to put a little pain in with all of the pleasure.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you slipped beneath the thin sheet and blanket on top of the bed. Up until now it’d been perfectly made the entire time you’d been staying there. You watched Walt as he swiped his underwear off the floor, pulling them on before grabbing yours as well. He held them out slightly, a wordless question, and you couldn’t help but to laugh as you nodded and let him toss them to you.

You saw the flicker of apprehension on his face, like he was trying to figure out whether or not he should be putting the rest of his clothes back on too. “You can stay,” you told him with a nod, propping the side of your face in your hand. “No point in leaving just to be on the other side of the wall.”

He visibly relaxed at that, relief coursing through him. “Right.”

He climbed in on the other side of the bed, laying close but still leaving a bit of a gap between you. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now, what the protocol was supposed to be. None of this had been in his plans.

Rolling over, you swiped your pack of cigarettes and your lighter off the night stand that was between the two beds. You held the pack out to him, offering him one. He took one, of course, and since you were the one with the lighter in your hand, he even let you light it for him before you grabbed one for yourself and sparked it up.

He watched as you laid on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling as you blew smoke rings. You looked so pleased with yourself, bedsheet pulled up over your chest as you watched the smoke rise and then disappear.

“That your party trick?” he asked.

You laughed, turning your head to look over at him. “Hardly. My last partner, the one I had before I came down here, he taught me how to do it.” You took another drag off your cigarette, puffing out another ring for emphasis. “Too many hours cooped up in a shitty car on stakeouts with nothing better to do.”

He chuckled. “Oh yea?”

“Don’t worry,” you looked over at him with an amused glint in your eyes, “I wasn’t doing this on stakeouts.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You would’ve thought of it later and never let it go,” you cut him off, giving a small dismissive wave of your hand, painting a swirl with the smoke coming off your cigarette as you did.

There was more to be said, you were sure of it. There were discussions to be had, probably boundaries to be laid out. But you didn’t want to get into all of that in the moment. It was good. Things felt good and easy after weeks of everything feeling anything but good and easy. Judging by the look on Walt’s face, he was having very similar thoughts. So you both finished your cigarettes in silence. Walt leaned, reaching over you to drop it into the ashtray. On the way back, he stopped, letting his arm drape across you for a moment. The look on his face was one of asking for permission, like he needed to know that this little bit of softness was okay after everything that had happened.

You just smiled before reaching and turning off the lamp, sending the room into darkness. Rolling onto your side so that your back was to Walt, you gently grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm around you. He slid up behind you so that his chest was pressed to your back, keeping the two of you close. This would do for now. Everything else could at least wait until morning.

#nffalphabet #jealousy #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #nmx #walt breslin #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin x you #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[ashlingnarcos]

no witness — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, 2.4k @narcosfandomdiscord's july smut alphabet, prompt 24: exes a day late, but who's counting? warnings: smut (barely), angst, past divorce, illness

It’s been so long that his old phone number doesn’t work, but if there’s one way to reach Walt Breslin, it’s to call the DEA and lie. After ten minutes, which you mostly spend being on hold, you’re connected to his office. Pretty easy. Hopefully the rest of this ends up easy too.

“Hey, Walt,” you say. 

After a beat, he says, “Hey.” His voice is casual, but the pause has already given him away. How the man manages to conduct interrogations with drug lords and the like, you really don’t know. Bless his heart. 

“So I’ve had a shit day, and I’m thinking why not just get to the point,” you say. “That okay?”

“Shoot.”

“I’m in town for a couple days, visiting, and I was wondering: any interest in a one-night stand?” 

He laughs. There are miles and walls between you, to say nothing of time, but you know that laugh. You know that he’s scratching his jaw with his knuckles, turning away from the world and towards the sound of your voice, shoulders rising half an inch. Private, a little defensive. He never likes taking personal calls at work where he can be overheard, but it’s been a couple years since you’ve talked to each other. He must have missed you. That accounts for his reply.

“One-night stand seems kind of inaccurate, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not to nit-pick—”

“Too late.”

“—but I think we’re disqualified a couple different ways. A one-night stand is something you have with a stranger, right? For the first and last time.”

“And I’m not a stranger.”

“Last I checked, you’re my ex-wife.”

“And it wouldn’t be for the last time.” That just slips out of you, and you know better than to say it as soon as it’s out of your mouth. You slump in your chair, smooth your yellow flip-flop over the peeling kitchen linoleum, and wait to see if the hammer drops.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, is all,” he says mildly.

Mercy hits you harder than cruelty would’ve. As always. “Sorry,” you say, abrupt.

“’s okay,” he says, and that’s not true, but it’s perfect. There’s not forgiveness between the two of you quite so much as there is a shared desire to get the hell out anytime the house starts burning. At this point, one whiff of smoke and you both sprint. Doesn’t matter if it was just a cigarette. 

“Yeah, so,” you say desperately, “be seeing you.” 

“At eight,” he says, and hangs up.

Oh.

.

.

.

You’re smoking under the carport when Walt pulls up and parks on the side of the road. It’s raining. You watch him get out of the car. He’s tense, you think. Whatever made him reserved and a little lenient earlier, all that’s gone now. Nothing easy about this version of Walt. 

That’s fair. It’s been a couple years, and you gave him no explanation. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t slam the door either. Good enough.

You walk towards the front door, holding out your cigarette and letting the rain snuff it out before you throw it in the bucket by the front door. When you go inside, you leave the door ajar. 

He comes in fast. You barely have time to get your flip flops off before you hear his footsteps behind you, turn, and then there he is: a stab in the gut, a scarecrow, scruff and then some. On you fast, his hands your hips his mouth your mouth and that wet sundress doing near nothing at all between the two of you. You can feel the top of his sodden jeans pressing a line into your stomach. You can feel he’s half-hard already. Without looking, he kicks the door shut.

Okay, then. 

You didn’t plan on fierce and this isn’t fierce exactly, but it sure as hell isn’t peaceful. He kisses you like he’s on a mission and you return the favor, clinging to him like you might fall over otherwise. He tastes like cigarettes and he’s this close to biting. You’re fine to hurry. You grope your way along his sides till you find the hem of his shirt, wrestle that off, and drop it to the floor as you start walking backwards into the cramped living room. 

You’ve got your hands on him now, fuck, exactly how you wanted, digging your nails into the back of his neck and feeling every finger a conduit to the rough, freckled, panting reality of him. His eyes are half lidded and he’s kissing you slower, deeper. It’d be drowning if you paid attention, but the whole point is your mind turning mercifully off. 

Between the big green sofa and the air mattress, there isn’t much room, but you break away from him just long enough to get down there in the narrow strip of rug, get down on all fours, and look back at him. He’s on his knees behind you in a couple seconds, moving a little slower than you. Is he hurt? Before you can sit back and try to interrogate him, he’s already shoving your skirt up off your thighs and over your hips.

“Shit,” he says. Not derailed, just surprised. He smooths a callused hand up your inner thigh and trails a couple fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you are already and sending a shiver through you. Your stomach clenches as he inspects at the slick coating his fingers. His silent self-satisfaction is so fucking annoying, and unfortunately, it makes you want him all the more. 

“Hey,” you say. “That’s my work, not yours.”

You were hoping he’d make some kind of move on you, but instead he sticks both fingers in his mouth and sucks till his cheeks go hollow. Maybe he thinks you deserve the delay for trying to provoke him. Or maybe the sight’s a reward—you’ve always enjoyed watching him with his mouth full, that’s for damn sure. 

When he finally slides out his fingers with a sick little pop, his eyes have gone completely dark. No smirk yet, but imminent. Even before he opens his mouth, you know he’s gonna say something.

“Big fan of your work,” he says. 

You hate how much you want him, how much you can feel now that you’ve missed this. “Come here,” you say roughly.  

He does. As he works you open, slowly, his hunger is so subordinated by his intent that it can’t read as anything but careful, can’t read as anything but care, and sure you asked him here to be cared for, but you don’t want to fucking witness it. You drop your head between your shoulders, try to relax around the stretch of him, and let the carpet blur. It’s not enough. 

“C’mon,” you say so low that you think he doesn’t hear you, but then he slides out his fingers and the raw wet weight of him is at your back, his teeth sink into your shoulder, and he pushes in. Pushes your eyes closed. Pushes the last thought out of you. 

Perfect. 

.

.

.

When he rolls off you and onto the mattress, panting, he lays there a second and you clamber on beside him. He’s sprawled out on his back with his hands behind his head, you’re sprawled out on your stomach. He’s staring at the ceiling, and you’re staring at him. After a second, he looks over at you. Get what you wanted?

Truth is: not yet, no, but what you’ve got so far is good. You tilt your head, offering him a bit of doubt, ehh, but your eyes are merry traitors. 

He snorts. 

“You wear me out,” he says. He’s not touching you, but he says it comfortable, like a caress. 

Presently, you inch a little closer and bite the closest bit of him, which happens to be his elbow, hard and dry and unappealing. You don’t bite that hard. He stretches out his arm so you can come tuck yourself into his side, and he doesn’t watch you as you do it, which is gentlemanly of him. You’re greedy for this, this is what you wanted, but you don’t want to be witnessed at it any more than you want to witness it yourself. If neither of you can notice that this is happening, that’d be a continuation of perfect. 

Course, your curiosity makes sustaining that impossible.

“How’d you know?” you say, after a while.

“Know what?” he says sleepily. 

Everything. “That I’d be at my mom’s place. That she wouldn’t be here.” 

He pauses, noticeably, then shrugs. You feel it more than you see it, the movement of his shoulder under your head. 

“Kinda fits the pattern, doesn’t it?” he says.

Any other night, and you wouldn’t let that stand. But for a collection of grudges and bones, rough stubble and unyielding everything else, the man feels good to hold, and you’d have to let go to fight. 

So you go the light angle. “Hey, man. I’m mysterious.”

“Oh, you’re mysterious, all right.” There’s a smile in his voice, and then there isn’t. “So what’s the problem?”

“Nothing really.” Beat. “Looks like we’ll be going round two with April. Chemo, the whole nine. Barely a remix, more like time travel. Whatever.”

Silence, the kind you were dreading. His hand has been clasping your hip for a while now, but it feels too heavy all of a sudden. You consider squirming away, but for once in your life, you can’t think of an excuse to pick a fight. 

“She’ll be okay,” he says. And worse, he says it like he believes it. “She’s tough as nails, your mom.”

Again, it just happens: “Shame she had such a soft-ass daughter, huh.”

“Don’t do that,” he says at once.

“Sorry,” you say, and you mean it, and then—what the fuck? Why are you apologizing to Walt fucking Breslin, of all people? That’s something the divorce was supposed to end as easily as it ended dinner traditions and having a nephew and sleepless nights. What the fuck. 

“Like you don’t do that,” you say.

“I don’t.”

See, this is why Walt isn’t to hold; there’s not enough barrier between you when you’re in his arms. Everything’s dead obvious. You’re both tensing up and he’s fucking terrible to hold again.

“Well, you look it and you think it, and that’s nearly as bad,” you bite out.

“Still beats fucking saying it.”

“Count on a cowboy to prescribe me repression.” And you meant it exasperated and derogatory and not funny at all, but when you say it, you hear it, and Walt snorts in lieu of a laugh that he can’t help.

“I’m not…” He looks over at you, and he’s smiling like a husband would. This shit should be bottled and mass-manufactured. Or outlawed. Either would work. 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a cowboy,” he says.

You pinch his chin between thumb and forefinger. “But you are, though.”

“I’m not a cowboy, you’re just a Northerner.”

Oh, that old thing. You roll your eyes and don’t bother saying you’re from Kentucky. You haven’t bothered saying it since fucking 1985. 

“You still gonna be pissed at me, then?” you say. “And don’t say what do you mean, I’m sleepy and I don’t want to go nine rounds. You were pissed when you came in, before you got distracted.”

“I just thought you were pulling my chain.”

“Well, that’s very fucking self-obsessed of you,” you say, before it hits. “And why would I be pulling your chain?”

He shakes his head, and you raise yourself up to look down at his face, all your weight going down into the godawful air mattress with your right hand, your left on his bare chest. 

“I was seeing somebody,” he says to a patch of ceiling off past the side of your head. “Never mind.”

For all the time you’ve spent trying to fuck things up for him on purpose, the discovery that you might’ve fucked something up for him on accident really frightens you. What if it was a good thing? What if this other woman was a good woman? You’d never been one of those, never even met one of those, but you hear about them on TV sometimes and you think one of them would be a nice thing for him. Like a new car or a month without nightmares, one of those things he’s never had. A good woman. Fuck. You knew this was all a mistake.

You already know, but you can’t stop yourself from asking. “Did I—”

“Never mind.”

And he’s been nice enough to not witness you, so now you should be nice enough not to witness him, you think. You go to lay back down, but first you brush a kiss just under his collarbone. Negligible, deniable. Apologetic. 

Wrong move, obviously. Nothing can be an apology if it’s deniable; it’s either one or the other, and there it is, he’s getting up and wrestling on his boxers and jeans in one go. Not angry, even, just set. This is what he’s doing. He’s going. Who could blame, et cetera.

“Look, this was…” he says. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t bother putting on his shirt, just balls it up and stuffs it in his back pocket. Half-naked Breslin walking out the door on a Thursday night, breaking news for nobody, least of all your neighbors. You’re sitting on a deflating air mattress with your arms hugging your knees, not very hard, just waiting for it to be over. Practically rote.

He bends down and presses a kiss to your temple. You really are sorry, so you twist your neck and reach for him and kiss the full apology into him, sweet like you only ever are in some kind of aftermath. 

“You know,” you say. “Next time.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”

It’ll be his turn. You’ll pay him back; you’re a thief and a bastard but you’re always fair when it comes to shit like this. You’d kiss him for longer, but you can feel the dull burning and pretty soon it’ll be full-on actual pain, so you just nudge at him, your forehead to his. You get the angle a bit wrong and nearly get him in the eye. 

Maybe he smiles at that, maybe he doesn’t. Soft footfalls. You’ll need to wash the sheets and your dress and your memory, figure out a way to make tomorrow livable. The door closes behind him.

Next time.

#walt breslin #walt breslin x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfiction #this one goes out to all my readers. just kidding it goes out to tay specifically #you know what it is!!!! #mine #nffalphabet #readerfic

[proceduralpassion]

Night of the Comet

Day 24 of Narcoctober- Create a fanwork about a character turning into a supernatural creature.

Character(s): Werewolf!Walt Breslin x Reader

WC: 609

A/N: Werewolf!Walt here we gooo

Walt could barely stand to catch his breath, leaning on all fours with his chest heaving. His hands were no longer his hands, but rather transformed into rough claws that would eviscerate his prey. The sense of his nose had elevated tremendously, and his snout was raised up sniffing into the night air. 

His prey was near.

Walt takes off in a run, his frame effortlessly lancing through the rocky terrain of the ground, avoiding dips and jumping over humps of elevation. Twigs and branches scratch at his body with the same intensity of the cool air that whips past him in his hurry. He’s too focused on catching his prey. Nothing else matters. 

He quickens his pace even as he got closer to what he’s looking for. Civilization fades away and suddenly, he’s alone in a quiet grove pocketed within a heavy expanse of trees. The moon is the only source of light and he uses it to his advantage. 

Without warning, Walt’s lithe body is pinning down his prey without mercy. He ignores the tortuous cries for its life, the wails of pain, the frantic movement that suddenly stops as its neck is snapped. But then, he looks down and realizes that his kill is you.

Your eyes are staring into his soul with the same terrified face as you were being killed. He gasps and realizes that he’s no longer on four legs, but rather on two, leaning on his heels in his position above you. Blood covers the lower half of his face from the reckless abandon with which he eviscerated your neck. 

You’re dead. He’s killed you.

His lungs are like fire and it feels like an eternity when your eyes finally remove themselves from the sight of a broken you.

The blood on his hands has disappeared.

He’s in his bed instead of on the ground and he’s drenched in sweat, rather than covered in blood. 

You touch his chest and Walt jumps.

“Babe, what’s wrong? What are you doing up?”

With every word, he’s moving farther away from you. He’s fallen off the bed and skirting closer and closer towards the wall. You go to speak again before he’s cutting you off.

The boom of his voice stops you from moving off the bed, “Stay away from me! Get back!”

“B-babe..” You try again.

“I’ll hurt you! You need to stay back.”

Tears roll down Walt’s face and that scares you even more than his pleas. 

“I’ll kill you,” he whimpers.

“Walt, honey, I think you had a nightmare. Everything’s fine. You’re not gonna hurt me.”  Your voice is soft and your hand is carefully placed out for him to take. 

When Walt dared to glance at her, he watches the frame of her face through the moonlight as their only source of illuminance. He looks down to your neck, finding it intact and without blemish, much less fractured.

“You’re okay, honey,” you coax, “Please come back to bed, Walt. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

His breaths dial down from their shuddering motions to more accommodating leaps for oxygen. His hand is still hesitant as it falls into yours but he still takes it and returns to bed.

You bring a hand to his face, running slow circles through the expanse of his head while his other hand traveled to his chest. She felt his heart rate leveling out, but kept it there, knowing how grounding it was for him.

You look into his eyes, like the many times you have before and assure him of the one thing you know he’ll never do.

“You’ll never hurt me, my love. I trust you.”

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#narcos mexico #walt breslin #walt breslin x reader #narcoctober

[cregan-starks]

Taquito | Beholden

Summary: Magnussen returns to Guadalajara.

Words: 3,395

Pairing: Walt Breslin x OC (not really)

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of drug trafficking, mentions of sexism, mention of communism, mentions of food, smoking, alcohol, cussing. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: As always, apologies for taking so long to update. This chapter’s lighter than the previous ones, but I hope y’all still enjoy it. If you wish to be added to or removed from my taglist, my DMs and ask box are open.

Credits: Huge thank you to my beta @maharani-radha-writes 💛 and to my darlings @cleastrnge​ 💜 and @qoedameron​​ 💓 for the Mexican Spanish translations!  

Previous | Ao3 | Masterlist | Next

MARCH 6, 1986

GUADALAJARA, MEXICO

          Obscure fun fact: sometimes, the DEA experience involved sneaking barefoot out of a parking lot, at 1 a.m. Completely sober, too. Holding her shoes in one hand and her lit cigarette in the other, Magnussen sauntered towards her apartment building, accompanied by the sound of crickets. Against her better judgement, she stopped near a streetlamp to finish her cigarette. Bugs had flown around the top, drawn to its light. The current state of affairs did have a reasonable explanation. Barely two hours into her six-hour drive from Mexico City to Guadalajara, Magnussen’s feet had begun to hurt, so she had taken off her heels. In hindsight, it had been a shitty decision. The temperature had dropped significantly – causing goosebumps to erupt all over her skin – and the rough surface of the sidewalk underneath her feet created a slight discomfort. Magnussen took a drag from her cigarette, relishing in the view. The night sky served as a canvas for the shy, gleaming stars. A couple of blocks away, a dog barked as a car quietly drove by.

          Magnussen remembered a similar evening, sitting on the fence of the Consulate with Kiki and smoking, after he and his team had failed to lure Gallardo across the border into the U.S. and arrest him. Kiki had been so adamant about Gallardo knowing his name. He had felt exhausted, demoralized, defeated. That operation had been the closest they had ever gotten to capturing the Godfather, and he had slipped through their fingers… again. Kiki had longed to go home. It had seemed like he had finally been willing to abandon the hunt… and he should have. Back then, Gallardo had been wanted for being a notorious narco-trafficker. Now, he was also wanted for Kiki’s torture and murder. A sour reminder that a flame can transform into a wildfire.

          Worse, the men tasked with bringing Gallardo to justice didn’t even give a shit about Camarena. Magnussen gritted her teeth in frustration. She had taken Leyenda’s pulse, and she had been left rather disappointed. How was she supposed to work with them? Petski was auditioning to be a mime, Mejía was an arrogant toe, Méndez and Álvarez were yes-minions, Orozco was Breslin’s mustached parrot, Garza’s favorite hobby was waterboarding – or spitting on puppies – Palacios hadn’t developed a personality yet, and Breslin was a narrow-minded redneck. He probably wouldn’t budge on the Azul situation. Typical Yankee; loved to hear himself speak, rejected anyone else’s input. Whatever. Magnussen was too woman for her opinion to matter. Morales had been the only one whom she had genuinely liked. At least he had had the decency to introduce himself and welcome her to the team… although, as far as Magnussen was concerned, he must have had ulterior motives, too. Severe lack of trust among coworkers. Off to a great start…

          Give it time, she reasoned. Loosen some of that Eastern European pessimism. Magnussen dropped her cigarette on the ground, instinctively moving her foot to put it out before pausing in realization. Dodged a burn. She crouched and used the heel of one of the shoes that she was holding to extinguish the cigarette, mumbling “ridiculous” to herself, then headed into the complex. Magnussen peered to distinguish shapes in the dark in an attempt to not trip and fall flat on her mug as she tiptoed up the oddly dirty and sticky stairs. She cringed internally at the mere idea of navigating her apartment in this condition, already tired. Throw in hunger and an agonizing need to pee, and you could guess Magnussen’s general disposition.

          Maybe contemplating building her own network within the operation would serve as a distraction and cheer her up a bit. She couldn’t depend on her colleagues forever. In fact, she didn’t fancy relying on them at all. Administrator Lawn had gotten one thing right. Magnussen was no team player. She refused to let Calderoni off the hook, too. She demanded answers, and she was certain that the Commander was in possession of one or two of them. Calderoni had potentially upgraded to triple agent, bumping elbows with the Mexican government, the U.S. government, and the Guadalajara cartel. When Magnussen had told Breslin that Leyenda required somebody on the inside, she had meant it. Commander Calderoni was the perfect candidate for the job. Her plans didn’t end there, either. She also wanted to set up surveillance on Tómas Morlet – a DFS agent who had actually been placed at the scene of Camarena’s abduction and the man responsible for Kiki’s neighbor’s execution – and the low-ranking assholes who just so happened to be on Leyenda’s hit list. Happy coincidence.

          Magnussen curled her fingers around the handrail, for support, the sound of her rings clinking against the metal echoing. Apologies, neighbors. Unfortunately, they will have to adapt. You never knew what you were going to get, with Magnussen. Judging by the crusty sensation in the corners of her eyes, her makeup had betrayed her as well, becoming smudged. Magnussen was eager to eat, sleep… definitely drink… and wash her feet. She made it past the second floor. Almost there. So close, yet so far away. Magnussen even entertained the idea of crawling on all fours to avoid smearing the floor and carpets in her apartment. Who was she kidding? She would undoubtedly pass out immediately. Anything else belonged to the realm of speculation.

          Fuck.

          Magnussen froze in her spot, startled by a door swinging open, nearly clutching her shoes to her chest.

          ‘¡Oh, mierda!’, exclaimed the intruder, equally stunned, ‘Me espantaste.’ (Oh, shit! You scared me.)

          You and me both, honey. The apartment’s light flooded the hallway, further confusing Magnussen’s fragile state of mind.

          ‘Pérdon,’ she mumbled, discreetly studying the woman in front of her. (Sorry.)

          Big, dark eyes stared at Magnussen with concern. Her turquoise nails contrasted her smooth, brown skin, and her thick eyebrows were darker than her lengthy curls. She wore a beige cardigan over a white undershirt, her voluptuous chest distracting Magnussen only a little… as did her plump lips and curvy hips.

          ‘¿Estás bien?’, inquired the woman, visibly worried. (Are you okay?)

          Poor soul. Magnussen couldn’t blame her. She was roaming the hallway, barefoot, at one in the morning. Don’t sweat it, she could’ve seen worse.

          ‘Totalmente,’ assured Magnussen, calmly, ‘Solo tratando de llegar a mi departamento.’ (Totally. Just trying to get to my apartment.)

          ‘¿Vives aquí?’, asked the woman, surprised, perking up, ‘No te he visto antes.’ (You live here? I haven’t seen you before.)

          You shouldn’t exactly be seeing me now, either. That’s a story for… never. If you’re fortunate, you won’t run into me in the future.

          ‘Me mudé ayer,’ clarified Magnussen, hesitantly, regarding the current time, ‘O hace dos días. ¿Porqué estás sacando la basura a esta hora?’, she interrogated, referring to the trash bag that the woman was holding. (I moved in yesterday… or two days ago. Why are you taking out the trash at this hour?)

          Forget about my suspicious behavior. What about yours? The woman’s demeanor did not suggest that she was deceiving Magnussen. Alas, her investigative skills after midnight should be deemed dubious, at best.

          ‘Estaba afuera con unos amigos,’ explained the neighbor, the memory fond, ‘Ah, tú eres la que pone Judas Priest a todo volúmen.’ (I was out with some friends. Ah, you’re the one who plays Judas Priest loudly.)

          ‘Sí,’ confirmed Magnussen, unsure how to feel about the label, ‘Esa soy yo.’ (Yeah. That’s me.)

          Spotted on day one, and already effortlessly built a reputation for herself. How long would laying low have lasted, anyway? She couldn’t not talk with sentient beings.

          ‘Soy Guadalupe,’ introduced the woman, friendly, extending her free hand, ‘Llámame Lupita.’ (I’m Guadalupe. Call me Lupita.)

          ‘Bonito nombre,’ complimented Magnussen, shaking her hand, mindful of her shoulder holster peeking out from her jacket, ‘Santo. Soy Antonia. Llámame Toni.’ (Beautiful name. Holy. I’m Antonia. Call me Toni.)

          Another lie that she would have to maintain. I gotta put them on paper, eventually.

          ‘Gusto en conocerte,’ commented Lupita, offering a small smile, ‘¿De dónde eres?’ (Nice to meet you. Where are you from?)

          Shit.

          ‘Es un poco complicado,’ excused Magnussen, awkwardly, grimacing, ‘Vivo en Nueva Zelanda... pero nací en Rumanía.’ (That’s a bit complicated. I live in New Zealand… but I was born in Romania.)

          ‘No sé mucho de Rumanía,’ admitted Guadalupe, sounding disheartened, ‘Nunca he estado ahí.’ (I don’t know much about Romania. Never been.)

          ‘No te preocupes,’ enunciated Magnussen, waving dismissively, ‘No te pierdes mucho.’ (Don’t worry. You didn’t miss out on much.)

          Unless you count communist repression, minimum respect for human rights, secrecy, propaganda, occasionally hideous infrastructure.

          ‘¿Cómo es que estás en Guadalajara?’, questioned Lupita, politely curious. (How come you’re all the way in Guadalajara?)

          Attempting to bring justice to my deceased friend, who was tortured and murdered by a drug cartel, in collaboration with the Mexican government – allegedly. So, the usual.

          ‘Yo, uh, tengo un internado,’ disclosed Magnussen, mentally congratulating herself for her duplicitous reflexes, ‘En el consulado de Estados Unidos.’ (I, uh, have an internship… at the U.S. Consulate.)

          It’s a classified internship. Please, don’t press the issue. It’s a difficult period for me.

          ‘Que elegante,’ noted Guadalupe, half impressed, tugging her sweater over her chest, to keep warm, ‘Yo estoy intentando tener un título de Artes. Trabajo en un salón de uñas.’ (Fancy. I’m trying to get an Arts degree. I work at a nail salon.)

          Glancing down at her feet, Magnussen curled her toes, to prevent them from falling victim to frostbite. “Fancy” is not a word I would use to describe my “internship.” Arts are always approved of. Artists are the soul of society.

          ‘Buena suerte,’ she replied, unable to omit the most precious fact, ‘¿Salón de uñas, huh? Que suerte la mía.’ (Good luck. Nail salon, huh? Lucky me.)

          ‘Eres bienvenida cuando quieras,’ asserted Lupita, leaning against the doorframe, ‘¿Estás libre este fin de semana? Deberíamos salir.’ (You are welcome anytime. Are you free this weekend? We should hang out.)

          Despite her initial cynicism, Magnussen gradually realized that she would need to interact with people outside of her Leyenda circle, otherwise she would lose it and commit atrocities.

          ‘Aún no lo sé,’ began Magnussen before interrupting herself to address the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel that emerged from Guadalupe’s apartment, ‘Oh, hola.’ (I don’t know yet – Oh, hello.)

          Lupita quickly moved her foot to block the dog’s path. Its round, black eyes watched Magnussen with a sweet, gentle expression, and its lengthy, fluffy ears framed its face. The dog sported a silky, classical Blenheim coat – rich chestnut markings on a clear, pearly white ground.

          ‘Esta es Taquito,’ revealed Guadalupe, evidently not having anticipated the dog’s presence, ‘Debería estar dormida.’ (This is Taquito. She should be asleep.)

          Taquito – excellent name, by the way – can do whatever she wants.

          ‘Es un amor,’ countered Magnussen, affectionately, crouching to scratch the dog behind its ears, ‘Tráela contigo cuando salgamos.’ (She’s a darling. Bring her with you when we go out.)

          ‘Los perros no están permitidos en bares, Toni,’ reminded Lupita, playfully. (Dogs aren’t allowed in bars, Toni.)

          ‘Que se jodan,’ declared Magnussen, adamantly, petting Taquito’s head, ‘Iremos a un parque.’ (Fuck them. We’ll go to a park.)

          Taquito showed her endorsement by wagging her tail, excitedly.

          ‘Le encantará eso,’ chuckled Guadalupe, weakly pushing the dog back into her apartment, ‘Di buenas noches, Taquito.’ (She’ll love that. Say good night, Taquito.)

          ‘Buenas noches,’ said Magnussen, standing up and waving to Taquito. (Good night.)

          ‘Realmente tengo que tirar la basura,’ recalled Guadalupe, cautiously shutting the door once the dog was inside, ‘Nos vemos luego.’ (I really have to throw away the trash. See you around.)

          ‘Cuídate,’ quipped Magnussen, amused, observing her depart down the stairs. (Take care.)

          Alright. Scram, Scout. Forth, on to your lair.

          Magnussen kicked off her slippers and leaned back against the couch – mindful of her filled wine glass – stretching her legs before resting her feet on the edge of the coffee table. Fleetwood Mac’s Spare Me a Little of Your Love started to play quietly on the stereo. She sipped her beverage, the spice inundating her taste buds, urging her nerves and muscles to finally relax, since the immediate burdens had been lifted off her chest; she had relieved her bladder, washed her feet, removed her makeup, changed into her pyjamas, and eaten… dinner? What meal do people have at two a.m.?

          Her eyes lingered on the telephone laying on the table, conflicted. She should have dealt with this yesterday… or two days ago. She itched for another cigarette, but that would require getting up, walking into the bedroom, retrieving the pack, and cracking a window to get rid of the smell and smoke. Open windows at night were a no-go. Magnussen was on her own. She downed her wine – setting the glass aside – and grabbed the telephone. Magnussen checked her wrist watch as she dialed the number, estimating that it must have been eight in the morning in New Zealand. Here we go.

          A few seconds passed, and the prolonged dial tone seemed to be in sync with her heartbeat. Magnussen absentmindedly pulled on the loose thread of one of her fuzzy socks, hoping that the noise would cease – though she was unsure about her preferred outcome. One where I don’t get shamed for suffering from chronic hesitancy.

          When the dial tone abruptly stopped, the words died on her tongue, her throat dry. A funny feeling settled in her stomach. Anxiety butterflies.

          ‘Hello?’, answered Maia’s robotic voice, casually.

          Any trace of thoughts vacated Magnussen’s mind. She glanced around the living room, fixating on nothing in particular.

          ‘Uh, hey,’ she greeted, stiffly, scratching the nape of her neck, ‘It’s me.’

          ‘Well, well, well,’ articulated Maia, and Magnussen braced herself for the upcoming snark, ‘La Llorona didn’t find you yet. I hear you’re serenading me.’

          Magnussen involuntarily looked at the stereo. The song neared its end.

          Spare me a little,

          Spare me a little,

          Spare me a little of your love.

          ‘Compensating for my silence,’ she huffed, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards, ‘Sorry about that, by the way. What’re you up to?’

          ‘In the kitchen,’ informed a grumpy Maia, ‘Drinking coffee before work.’

          ‘First cup?’, inquired Magnussen, smugly proving that she knew Maia’s morning routine.

          ‘Second,’ corrected Maia, apparently fumbling with cutlery in the background.

          ‘Oh, so, I caught you at a good time,’ joked Magnussen, leaning over the couch arm to turn off the stereo.

          ‘That depends,’ teased Maia, flirtatiously, ‘What’ve you got for me?’

          ‘I just got back to Guadalajara,’ droned Magnussen, the reminder causing her to feel tired again.

          ‘Isn’t it late there?’, checked Maia, confused, the frown in her tone palpable.

          ‘Early, according to some,’ countered Magnussen, humorously, producing a small piece of paper from the pocket of her pyjama pants, ‘I had a meeting with the team.’

          Morales’ note. She scanned the neatly written names and numbers, barely paying attention.

          ‘And how was it?’, interrogated Maia, evidently curious.

          ‘I’m not,’ began Magnussen, carefully, searching for the appropriate term, ‘Too impressed. They seem like a bunch of yes-men. In it for a medal and a few bucks. Only Morales talked to me afterwards. Genuine or not…’

          ‘There’s that pessimism, alive and well,’ observed Maia, fondly.

          ‘It’s not that,’ grumbled Magnussen, shoving the note in her pocket, ‘Breslin’s already stepping on my tail.’

          Romanian saying. Maia would get it. She always does.

          ‘Who could’ve anticipated that?’, falsely lamented an amused Maia.

          ‘He has ego cramps because of the airport thing,’ dismissed Magnussen, sinking into the couch.

          ‘Do tell,’ encouraged Maia, interested.

          An opportunity to complain? She would be a fool not to seize it. Maia proceeded to sip her coffee, loudly, forcing Magnussen to briefly remove the telephone from her ear, annoyed by the noise. Maia was doing it on purpose.

          ‘I randomly saw him struggling to light his cigarette,’ explained Magnussen, feigning innocence, ‘So, I offered him my lighter. Made small talk.’

          ‘You didn’t tell him who you were,’ concluded Maia, incredulously.

          ‘Of course, I didn’t,’ scoffed Magnussen, offended by the implication, ‘Said my name’s Sofia, faked an accent. He was probably suspicious, but I doubt he figured out what was really wrong. We met a second time in Heath’s office.’

          ‘Gross,’ deadpanned Maia.

          Magnussen wholeheartedly agreed.

          ‘I didn’t know Breslin was gonna show,’ she clarified, placing the telephone between her ear and shoulder to reach for the DEA badge on the coffee table, ‘He didn’t know I was gonna show. It was funny. He was so pissed.’

          ‘Barbie’s boyfriend must have been confused as hell,’ posited Maia, chuckling, ‘What did he do?’

          ‘Nothing,’ shrugged Magnussen, bitterly, ‘It’s not in his job description. He still pretends to have a spine. He didn’t stay long. I can’t tell if he feels any guilt over what happened.’

          She studied the pretentious-looking object, attentively, her nail lightly digging into the eagle – the U.S. – proudly sitting atop the badge’s sunburst-shaped body, grasping an olive branch and arrows – the federal government’s authority over peace and war. Atrocious.

          ‘It’s not in the job description,’ echoed Maia, somber, ‘He doesn’t have to.’

          ‘Hopefully, D.C. will be merciful, and I won’t have to deal with Bureaucrat Ken’s existence moving forward,’ claimed Magnussen, gloomy, tossing her badge on the table, ‘Anyway, I bumped into one of my neighbors. Lupita. She has a dog named Taquito.’

          ‘Congratulations on socializing,’ jested Maia, condescendingly, ‘A reason for you to go out more. Don’t forget to smuggle Taquito into New Zealand when you come back.’

          ‘If I come back,’ corrected Magnussen, reflexively, then subtly attempted to change the subject, ‘I thought we were getting a cat.’

          ‘Hey, don’t talk like that,’ scolded Maia, refusing to take the feline bait.

          Magnussen provided no response, instead shifting into a more comfortable, apathy-compatible position, lying down on her side, balancing the telephone over her left ear.

          ‘How’re you holding up, so far?’, murmured Maia, concerned, as if she were reaching out to tenderly squeeze Magnussen’s shoulder.

          A lump formed in her throat, preventing the truth from bursting past the surface. I wish things hadn’t been like this. I wish Kiki would still be alive. I wish I had been a child for a little longer. Lying to Maia would be pointless. Magnussen swallowed hard and counted the seconds, pondering when would be the right moment to say something. She sniffed, gradually sobering up.

          ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Magnussen, at last, voice wavering, ‘It’s strange, being here, not having him around… The city hasn’t changed much, but everything feels different. I’m starting to understand what Jaime meant.’

          ‘You need time,’ offered Maia, compassionately, ‘Going back was never going to be easy. You’re probably not going to like this, but I think you’re doing this for yourself as much as you’re doing it for Kiki… Take it easy.’

          Historically unsustainable for me.

          ‘You might be creating problems where there aren’t any,’ continued Maia, surprisingly civil, ‘Heath, Breslin, Morales, whoever the fuck. You’ll be fine. You can handle them. They have no idea what’s coming.’

          ‘The cartel or the DEA?’, quipped Magnussen, managing a smile.

          ‘Both,’ replied Maia, decisively.

          ‘Okay, enough about my bullshit,’ interjected Magnussen, her allergy to compliments manifesting, ‘How’s everything on your side of the world?’

          ‘Long version?’, recited Maia, aggressively setting her mug in the sink, ‘Up to my neck in work. O’Connor is driving me up a fucking wall. I don’t know who hired him, and I don’t know why they won’t fire him… Short version? I can’t wait for the weekend.’

          ‘Amen, sister,’ yawned Magnussen, stretching her legs that didn’t remotely touch the opposing arm of the couch.

          ‘Alright, I have to go to work,’ announced Maia, adopting her Mom Tone, ‘And you need to sleep.’

          ‘Mmmyeah,’ mumbled Magnussen, drowsily, rubbing her eye, ‘I miss you.’

          ‘I bet you do,’ sassed Maia, readily.

          ‘Mahuika,’ warned Magnussen, vaguely threatening.

          ‘I miss you, too,’ reassured a sly Maia, ‘Call me at more decent hours.’

          ‘Attempts will be made,’ bargained Magnussen, doubtful, ‘Good… morning.’

          ‘Good night, honey,’ chirped Maia.

          Magnussen lazily shifted on her back, allowing the telephone to fall next to her, on the couch cushion. She stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, contemplative, before she realized that the unwashed dishes awaited her, in the kitchen. From the bottom of her being, Magnussen released a deep, heavy sigh.

          Fuck.

TAGLIST: @a-dash-of-random-magic​ @amidalaraan​ @artthurshelby​ @buttercup--bee​ @cleastrnge​ @dameronology​ @frodo-sam​ @itssmashedavo​ @kalondarling​ @ladygangsters​ @maevesdarling​ @maevemills​ @maharani-radha​ @mitchi-c​ @moonlight-prose​ @nicolettegreen​ @pascalisthepunkest​ @queenofthefaceless​ @revolution-starter​ @sullho​ @themangolorian​ @tisbeautifulfreedom​ @qoedameron​

END THE WAR ON DRUGS: Equity Organization & Drug Policy Alliance

READ MORE: Mahuika, DEA badge, to step on someone’s tail = to annoy/upset them

#narcos fanfic #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #walt breslin #walt breslin x oc #walt breslin/oc #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin/reader #ossie mejía #danilo garza #daryl petski #sal orozco #amat palacios #scoot mcnairy #tori's beholden

[narcosfandomdiscord]

narcos fandom smut alphabet - finished!

you know what goes really well with summer sunshine and narcos tv rewatches? SMUTTY FIC!

(they put that bisexual lighting on Isabella for a reason, after all!)

this was our first month of prompts over at @narcosfandomdiscord! for every letter of the alphabet, we had two smutty prompts that fanfic writers used for inspiration. 🥰 our group ambition was to create at least one fic per letter—26 new narcos smut fics during the month of July—and we totally smashed it, in large part thanks to prolific work from @salt-is-a-terrible-currency. happy reading!

if you prefer reading on ao3, check out our collection. all fics tagged as #nffalphabet on tumblr. and it's just that simple 🥰

if you have any questions, you can message us on tumblr or join our narcos fandom discord here!

🍰 Prompt List & Fic Masterlist 🍰

July 1 — A — angry sex, anal

Right For Once by @drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, angry sex, 2.3k

Infuriating by @salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, angry sex, 1.5k

Our Man In Mexico by @hausofmamadas — Horacio Carrillo x Andrea Nuñez, angry sex, 2.5k

July 2 — B — blood, bound & begging

Final Warning by @purplesong1028 — Amado x Pacho, bound & begging, 490

Please (with your finger) by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, bound & begging, 1.2k

blood on vacation by @ashlingnarcos — David Barrón x f!Reader, blood, 1.8k

July 3 — C — cuffs, choking

If I go too far by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, choking, 737

mentirosos by @narcolini — Kitty Paez x gn!Reader, cuffs, 1.1k

July 4 — D — domesticity, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us.”

Taking Care by drabbles-mc — Diego Ramirez (Narcos OC) x F!Reader, domesticity, 2.1k

Lipstick's smudged by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, domesticity and “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 447

A Few Moments by @purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix/Pacho Herrera, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 482

July 5 — E — edging, eldritch

The first time I felt a ghost by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, eldritch, 716

July 6 — F — fight or fuck?, friends with benefits

No relationship talk by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, friends with benefits, 422

Unbroken Rules by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, friends with benefits, 2.9k

July 7 — G — gag/gagging, gun play

Paper-thin walls by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, gag/gagging, 361

Whatever He Wants by purplesong1028 — Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Miguel Félix, gun play, 416

July 8 — H — honor bondage, hatesex

Dress blues by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, honor bondage, 1.8k

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US by hausofmamadas — Enedina Arellano x David Barrón, honor bondage, 2k

July 9 — I — infidelity, in public

Never meet your heroes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, in public, 955

Don't Mention It by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, infidelity and in public, 2.7k

No Strong Suit by purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix x Pacho Herrera, infidelity, 439

July 10 — J — jealousy, "just shut up already"

Unprofessional by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, jealousy, 4.3k

A bad idea by @artemiseamoon — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 2.3k

The ring by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 1.1k

July 11 — K — knotting, knocked up

Which time? by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, knocked up, 418

Secrets in the night by artemiseamoon — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 3.5k

Someday When It's Over by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 2.8k

July 12 — L — luxury, lingerie

Eres guapa by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, lingerie, 544

Desire by artemiseamoon — Enedina Arellano x Original Female Character, lingerie and luxury, 3.9k

Round-trip Ticket by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, lingerie, 7.7k

July 13 — M — mirrors, "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"

Another brick in the wall by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, make me forget, 812

Favors Owed by drabbles-mc — Maria Elvira x gn!Reader, make me forget, 2.7k

Like Old Times by artemiseamoon — Judy Moncada x Original Female Character, mirrors, 1.4k

July 14 — N — nipple play, "no one does it like you"

No One Like You by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, no one does it like you, 2k

Sore by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, nipple play, 580

July 15 — O — on all fours, one night stand

Cascade by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, one night stand, 580

July 16 — P — praise kink, pulling hair

Dress blues, pt 2 by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, praise kink, 404

July 17 — Q — quiet (or trying to be), quickie

Sweet, sharp, addictive by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, quiet (or trying to be) and quickie, 464

July 18 — R — role reversal, ruined

Bad Guy Treatment by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, role reversal, 3.8k

What is she to him by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, ruined, 444

July 19 — S — submit, "say my name"

Stoke the flames by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, submit, 387

July 20 — T — trapped together, tied up

On company time by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, trapped together, 574

July 21 — U — upper hand, underwater

The Weight of It All by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x Sal Orozco, underwater, 2k

he keeps his rules. you keep him. by ashlingnarcos — Horacio Carrillo x gn!Reader, upper hand, 1.1k

Polkadots by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, underwater, 359

July 22 — V — virginity (loss or roleplay), video

Off the Backburner by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, virginity, 4.1k

In this moment of pretend by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, virginity roleplay, 435

July 23 — W — "we probably shouldn't do this", worship

Stay A Little Longer by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 1.5k

Lunch break daydream by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 497

July 24 — X — exhibitionism, exes having sex

It's complicated by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Helena, exes having sex, 971

Not Yours Anymore by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, exes having sex, 3.2k

no witness by ashlingnarcos — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, exes having sex, 2.4k

July 25 — Y — yearning, "you look good like this"

Superman (4) by @garbinge — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "you look good like this", 5k

Lost Time by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, yearning, 2.9k

If he closes his eyes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, yearning, 442

July 26 — Z — zipper, zeal

Things Like That by drabbles-mc — Danilo Garza x f!Reader, zipper, 2k

Zealot by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader and Nathan "Cable" Summers from Deadpool x f!Reader, zeal, 4k

(note: we hit the link limit on this post so from now on, links will be to fics + to authors on their first appearance.)

#narcos mexico #narcos #narcos imagine #narcos fanfiction #nffalphabet

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Don’t Know How To Be Alone (A Walt Breslin Drabble)

Pairing: Walt Breslin x Reader

Summary: Walt just needs to be held, like can someone hold him already?

Rating: PG

Warnings/notes: language; little bit o’ angsty angst--it’s Walt, the man is angst personified; maybe if I write a little drabble for him I can get him out of my system and get back to the multi-chapter fic I’m supposed to be working on that I’ve been working on for months; inspired in part by Lianne La Havas because her music is taking me apart; I wrote this in five minutes, I didn’t consult any episodes or canon cause who has the time

Word count: 374 (like I said, it’s a baby)

The last time you’d seen him like this was when his brother died. Walt had shown up on your doorstep that night too and without a word, you’d let him in. You didn’t ask any questions--he would talk about it in his own time. Walt had held you the whole night, eventually drifting off to sleep to the feel of your fingers in his hair. 

It was three a.m. when the sound of knocking tugged you awake, and it took all your willpower to convince yourself you weren’t dreaming. In your zombie-like shuffle out of the room, you stubbed your toe on the leg of the bed frame, and the searing pain flipped a switch somewhere in your brain. You grumbled your way to the front door, snatching the bat you had propped up in the entryway. The knocking started up again and you flung the door open.

“Yeah, okay!” you snapped, but all the fight left in the slump of your shoulders when you saw Walt standing on your porch. He was wearing a suit but it looked rumpled, the tie loosened, and a few buttons at the top of his shirt undone. The familiar world-weary look pulled at the muscles in his face and you knew something terrible had happened. 

“Walt?” you asked. 

“I just...I needed--” Walt shook his head, fighting with the words. “I know I--” 

“Is everything okay?” You looked over your shoulder at the sound of Rob’s voice.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said, waving him off, but when you turned back Walt was already heading away from the house. Cursing yourself and him, you followed after him, calling his name.

“I’m sorry,” Walt said when he reached his car. “I should have known better, we haven’t talked in so long.”

“Walt,” you said, placing your hand on the car door and taking a deep breath, “Rob is my brother-in-law. He and my sister are staying with me for the weekend. You look like shit. And you definitely don’t look like you should be driving. We can talk about all that other shit in the morning, just come inside.” You took the keys from Walt’s hand, replacing them with your own and led him back to the house. 

Taglist: @tori-reads @artemiseamoon @autumnleaves1991-blog @maevesdarling​ @unicorn-cloud @thesolotomyhan

#walt breslin x reader #walt breslin #narcos: mexico #narcos mexico fic #scoot mcnairy #walt breslin drabble

[artemiseamoon]

It’s been a while

Walt Breslin x f reader oneshot

Warnings: Its pretty light, some light angst and some longing? mention of death.  

This is the third time Walt picked up the phone. His grip around it tightened as he stared at the keypad. His heart wanted to call, to dial that number he memorized long ago and hear the sweet sound of your voice on the other end.

You told him to call anytime but even if it wasn't late, he would still hesitate. Doubts swam around in his head, what if you didn't want to hear from him? What if you were upset it's taken so long for him to call? Walt's mind told him to hang up, to stop hovering his finger over the keypad. But his heart, his heart told him to proceed.

Walt's heart took the lead.

As the phone rang, Walt waited nervously and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He got one out and slipped it between his lips while cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. Just as he was about to light it, you picked up.

First came the sound of your breathing, a soft irritated sign, then your voice, “hello?”

Walt took a breath himself, then spoke, “Hey,”

You couldn't see the way his eyes closed to the sound of your voice, of the way his shoulders dropped. You couldn't see how such a simple thing had a calming effect on him that washed over his entire body and reached into his soul.

Walt opened his eyes then leaned into the phone as he said your name.

On the other end of the line, you rubbed your eyes. You had just gone to bed about 20 minutes ago and fell asleep quickly before the phone rang. “Walt, are you okay?”

“I'm okay. It’s late, I’m sorry.”

You shifted the phone to your other ear as you leaned against the wall. “As long as you’re okay...I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, this whole thing is…” he trailed off, then paused before speaking again, “I should have called earlier.”

“Yeah, you could have. But, at least you called now. It’s good to hear your voice.”

Walt closed his eyes again, “it’s really fucking good to hear your voice.”

His words made you smile. You take hold of the phone cord and step into the kitchen, then sit at the table. A brief moment of silence passed until Walt spoke.

“Look, I’ll be in town for a hearing, a couple of days. I was thinking we could go to that diner, the one with the jukebox.”

Jukebox.

Memories of your last time there flashed in your mind and made you smile wider. Some time ago, you and Walt met there for some late-night drinks. You sang songs and shoved your faces with the best fries in town. This was a couple of months before Walt left and took a job out of the country. Days passed by, then weeks and you had no way to contact him. You didn't even get to see him before he left, and he's only called one time since.

“I would like that, Walt."

Walt let himself relax even more. Just hearing your voice was enough to calm his mind and he wished he wasn't so far away, he wished he was right there with you and could see the expressions on your face as you spoke. Walt never asked you out on a date but wanted to. And each time he got close to doing it, he found a reason not to.

The closest he got to asking was the night his brother died. He was having one of the best days he had in a long time and after getting some things done, he was going to pick up some of your favorite take out and show up at your place. But that never happened, as he belted out lyrics on the way to get food, he got that life changing call from Sal.

Since then, the direction of his life, and what could have been, changed. His focus became his mission, there was no room or space for anything else. Not even his grief, not even a mourning period which he never gave himself. So, Walt did what he did well, he focused on his work and nothing else.

Most days he was too busy to think about anything other than work. But in those quiet moments you always came to mind, and sometimes when he let his mind go there, he wondered how that night could have gone if Greg didn't die. He'd still have his brother, and maybe, he'd have you too.

The lapse of conversation goes on a little too long, so you break it, “Walt?”

Walt heard you call his name but was still far away and lost in thought. His mind went from that night to other what ifs. What if he asked you out before then, if he just said something earlier? What if he did, only to find you didn't feel the same way? He'd seen your exes and he looked nothing like them. To Walt, you were the most beautiful woman in the world, but what did you think of him?

It took the second call of his name to pull Walt back to the present. He cleared his throat then finally spoke.

"If it’s alright, I won't keep you long, I just want to hear you talk for a little while.”

You chuckled softly, “that's okay. I am tired so - how's 10 minutes sound? Then I'm going to bed."

"Thank you." Walt said.

"Any requests? “ You asked.

“Anything you want,” Walt readjusted the phone, “hell, you could read me the weather report if you wanted.”

You grinned then went through the possible topics in your mind. Eventually, you settled on one.

“Alright Breslin, get comfy.”

“I’m all ears.”

You stayed on the phone until you could barely keep your eyes open, well past the 10 minutes. Walt could hear you dwindling, and part of him wanted to hang up first to let you go, the other part of him wanted to stay on because he wasn't ready to let you go yet. Eventually, you throw in the towel. Walt wished you a goodnight and hung up after you.

A short while later, as he brushed his teeth in the old, abandoned bathroom, he still thought of you. All he had to look forward to tonight was his sleeping bag, then some hot coffee in the morning with the guys before going about their day. He thought about you, and how comfortable you must be fast asleep in your bed at home; looking angelic as you slept peacefully.

And when he finally laid down for the night, he noticed he felt lighter. That time with you on the phone lifted stress from his body and relieved some of the heaviness in his heart. As he laid there, his eyes on the peeling paint of the ceiling, he made a promise to himself to not wait so long next time, and if he did make it back home, and if you were single, he'd finally say something and take a chance.

More Walt | More Narcos

Masterlist |

#Walt Breslin #Walt Breslin drabble #narcos mx #walt breslin narcos mexico #Walt Breslin x f reader #oneshot: its been a while #walt breslin oneshot

[lavendertales]

ARI'S FIC REC LIST

I've seen many doing this and I want to share some of my most favorite fics and series along with their incredible writers for more exposure because it is of upmost importance. THEY ARE INSANELY TALENTED. But I am subjective and I digress, so let's get into it:

Angels of Mercy series: Narco! Javier AU mini-series by @maharani-radha-writes. LISTENNNN. Javi’s attitude and issues as a narco?? Any time. This is one of the most fascinating and intriguing fics I have EVER read. HIGHLY RECOMMEND.

Rogue series: Din Djarin x force sensitive fem!reader by @acourtofsnakes Y’ALL. This series owns my ass. The depictions of sentiments and places and situations are ethereal. A wonderful story, just brilliant.

All that I am series: Oberyn Martell x fem!reader by @asta-lily WONDERFULLY CATCHY. You won’t be disappointed one bit! Also Oberyn comes with his own warning, we all know this, right?

The Sun Queen series: Boba Fett x black queen!reader by @batfamily14. THIS IS JUST WOW. Especially if you’re a sucker for Mr. Boba Fett, this ongoing series is simply too good to pass. An absolute must read.

Fire in the sky: Frankie Morales x fem!reder one shot by @disgruntledspacedad. Beautiful and intimate and just… ugh. All up in your feels for this man.

Cozy: Jack Daniels x fem!reader one shot by @f0rever15elf. The softness you never knew you needed! A must read especially if you’ve had a long day. Also check out their entire masterlist because there is a variety of amazing fics in there!

Laid bare: Din Djarin x fem!reader by @pedros-mustache. One of the most INCREDIBLE things I have ever read. I literally cannot describe how much I adore this fic. Superb.

Old habits die hard series: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo by @cheesybadgers. I have feelings for both those men and this amazing person COMBINED THEM and I am unwell. Get ready to face feelings and to get damn invested.

Biblichor series: Javier Peña x librarian fem!reader by @jedi-jesi. IT’S A RIDE FOLKS. It’s heartfelt and hot and it’s got twists and a beautiful read overall.

To sell your love for peace series: Javier Peña x fem!reader by @brandyllyn. This is one intense ride. Javi’s his usual asshole self but boy if he isn’t amazing when he catches feelings and has no idea how to act with them.

Lacuna: Javier Peña x nameless OFC one shot by @walt-breslin. If you wanna get your daily dose of pure pain, READ THIS. It will break you. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

Improper: King!Din Djarin x fem!reader one shot by @1800-fight-me. Smut, protective Din, feels… all you can want if you ask me. Outstanding read!

Who would've thought? Din Djarin x reader one shot by @captn-andor. ANGST ANGST ANGST AND FLUFF and again, FEELS. Just... so achingly beautiful.

Safety: Din Djarin x gn!reader one shot by @boxdyeblonde. I really can’t describe in any way other than BEAUTIFUL. Utterly amazing, so well written and full with emotion. We stan protective and soft Din in this house.

Connection series: Din Djarin x fem!reader by @beskarhearts. Introverted folks getting together?? YES, finally proper representation lol. In all seriousness, a wonderful and captivating series, absolutely stunning.

Mary Magdalene series: Javier Peña x OFC by @itssmashedavo. INCREDIBLE, an absolute must read!! The descriptions are my favorite part of the series and the depth it goes into… my, oh my. It will keep you on your toes and will get you so damn invested!

Meet me at sunrise series: Marcus Pike x FBI agent!reader by @lunaserenade. WONDERFUL. Catchy and heartfelt and so very beautifully written it makes me want to cry. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Day and night for you: Steve Murphy x fem!reader one shot by @knivesareout. LISTEN. I could recommend you Ashley’s entire masterlist but this particular fic got to me. Mostly because there is a shortage of Steve fics and this smut is so well written and debilitating, it will change how you feel about Steve in the best possible way.

Bogotá Lights: Javier Peña x gn!reader one shot by @mitchi-c. WE LOVE SOFT JAVI IN THIS HOUSE AND THIS IS TOO BEAUTIFUL TO BE LEFT OUT.

Read you like a book series: Marcus Pike x fem!reader by @the-ginger-hedge-witch. I got so sucked into this and Marcus is just *chefs kiss* the slow burn is soooo good and everything in between is such a wonderful depiction of a growing relationship!

Fly away with you: Ezra x fem!reader one shot by @santigarcia It’s… SO GOOD. And I do mean GOOD. The smut is incredible and the setting is also great. One of the best Ezra fics I have ever stumbled across.

#fic rec #Javier Peña x reader #ezra x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus pike x reader #steve murphy x reader #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #steve murphy fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #boba fett x reader #boba fett fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #signal boost

[im-poe-dameron]

Chapter Seven

A/N: She’s alive! It’s taken me quite awhile to get this chapter out and that’s probably due to the severe burn out I’m going through from school. But after weeks of writing and almost deleting this whole thing, I’ve finished it. It’s not what I consider my best writing, but I am quite happy with it overall.

Thanks to everyone who is sticking around to read my silly little story and lots of love for those of you who love it as much as I do.

There’s a few things I have to shout out cause two things were recently created for this story and I can’t tell you how much I utterly adore them! So apologies for this authors note that is going to take some time to get through.

So the lovely @walt-breslin​​ made Black Velvet a moodboard and I’m still FLOORED by it. Because the vibes are so accurate it makes me yearn for my own story. So thank you for that again darling! You can find that:

HERE

AND my best friend in the whole fucking world @aaliyasaurus​​​ came for my throat and gifted me an insanely gorgeous graphic for not only Black Velvet but Dazed and Confused as well. I’m literally still in shock. Babes you amaze me every fucking day. Thank you again (even though i’ve thanked you millions of times already). You can find them:

HERE

And without further ado I give you the chapter.

Summary: Things were going well, until a part of his past decides to show up again.

Word Count: 13.3k

Pairing: 1980s!Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: settle in y’all cause it’s good. EXPLICIT AS FUCK SO SEE YOU THE FUCK LATER MINORS, cussing per usual, fluff, blow-job, cum eating/cum play, so many feelings it’ll drive you insane, angst, mentions of anxiety, violence which is surprising, alcohol consumption, mention of exhibitionism (it’s din there’s no explanation),  oral (f receiving), p in v sex. I think that’s everything but let me know if I missed something.

    There wasn’t much to be done in the mornings before the world woke up. The sun barely having risen, as the sounds of early New York traffic filtered in through the open window. It was its own kind of peace. Wandering around as the world just started their day, people rushing to jobs, others heading home from long nights. And then there was you. Clad in nothing but a black long sleeve, as you walked the apartment of the man who still continued to sleep.

    The sunlight came through the three very small windows he had, casting a warm glow on the scuffed hardwood floors as you walked them. A cup of warm coffee in your hands. Really you tried to make his coffee taste better, but there wasn’t much to be done. Not when it was bitter and nothing else, because he apparently didn’t believe in coffee creamer.

    How you managed to slip out of bed without him noticing went beyond your comprehension. He must have been exhausted from what happened yesterday, because by the time you managed to untangle yourself from his grasp, use the bathroom, and attempt to make coffee, you found him on his stomach, clutching the pillow you had used. You had to remind yourself to find a camera of sorts, because the image of him snuggling a pillow was priceless.

    The bar was not that far from the main city, but still you didn’t have time to borrow his car and pick up breakfast. So, you worked with what you had. The eggs in his fridge would do, and you silently thanked him for at least having the sense to pick that up. Maybe he did know how to cook after all. Another thing you'd have to add to the list, along with everything else you had learned about him.

    His son.

    That piece of knowledge still had your chest constricting, the feeling of anguish that wasn’t yours overwhelming you. If it wasn’t Din, if he wasn’t the man who somehow held a hold over you without you knowing, you would have run by now. Told yourself that you’d be better off not knowing him. And perhaps you would be. Perhaps all of this was just something to stave off the gut wrenching realizations about your life, about who you were as a person.

    But this was more, and that’s why you stayed. Why you cracked three eggs into a cereal bowl that was cracked slightly, and began to cook breakfast. Still listening to the sounds of the outside world. To how the birds called to one another.

    You could handle not mentioning his son, could shove it to the back of his mind and force yourself to focus on other things. Such as how you still had to ask him about the wedding. The fucking wedding. The one thing you feared he’d say no to, and then what? What would you do? Ask someone else to be your date?

    Maybe you could get Poe to agree to go with you if Din said no. Although that might end up in Din murdering Poe and you really didn’t need to be arrested...again. Why were you stressing over this again? After all, it's not like he said anything about it yet. He didn’t know about it. So, your only goal was to be the sweetheart he called you, to try and convince him to go with you.

    The eggs were scrambled to the best of your ability and you put them on a plate, the cup of bitter steaming coffee in your hand already. No one ever turned down breakfast in bed, and honestly you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. You found him just as he was; on his stomach with head buried in the pillow, snoring softly. Number one on your shopping list was most definitely going to be a camera.

    “Romeo?” you whispered, setting the coffee on his nightstand, before kneeling on the bed, the plate of eggs balanced in your hands.

    He groaned as a response. Definitely not a morning person.

    “Wake up,” you said, nudging him lightly. “I’ve got food for you.”

    Another groan, followed by him rolling over to where you had to straddle his waist in order to keep from spilling the plate. His arm was tossed across his face, another round of snoring hitting your ears and letting you know he was out. You reached over, setting the plate on the nightstand beside the coffee, before leaning back over him. If you had to wake him up nicely you would.

    “You’re stubborn.” You followed your words with a kiss to his chest, scraping your nails lightly against his skin until you felt him shudder. “I made you breakfast and you won’t even wake up to see it.”

    He grunted, hips shifting underneath you. “It’s too early.”

    Words. He was speaking. Meaning he must be semi awake, and that was enough for you. You figured it was worth a shot, and if he didn’t like it then he’d push you off the bed. That you wouldn’t put past him, but it was too tempting. Your tongue licked a trail along his tattoos, following the path of the vines until he was shuddering again underneath your palms. A word mumbled out in his language as you continued, biting lightly at the skin until small red marks began to show up.

    “Sweetheart,” he said, his morning voice nearly having you moaning yourself.

    Glancing up you met brown eyes clouded with sleep as he watched you. “You’re awake.” A kiss to his heart. “I thought I’d have to keep going until I reached your cock.”

    He jolted at the words. “I’ve been awake. Keeping an eye on you while you cooked in my kitchen.”

    A lie. The man was passed out on the mattress. Dead to the world, but you let him have this, smiling against his chest.

    “Had to make sure you didn’t burn my apartment down.” His hand cupped the back of your neck, dragging you up towards him until his lips met yours, and that was it. 

    The feeling you’d been searching for all morning. The pure rush of emotions that filled your body until you were practically lighthearted. This man knew how to make you float, all the while keeping you on the ground. You weren’t sure yet how he did it, how he left you relentlessly wanting more until you were practically ready to beg. One of these days you’d have to ask him.

    “Contrary to belief. I do know how to cook,” you mumbled.

    He breathed out a laugh, lips slotting against yours again, languidly kissing you until the breath left your lungs. You could remain like this for hours. Just you and him in this room. In the small sanctuary you’d created for yourselves. The world could end and you were sure neither one of you would notice. Not until the fire was burning around you, until the building fell apart and ruined your haven.

    “It smells-oh fuck-good.” He lifted his head when you reached his hips, biting at the skin until he jolted. “Sweetheart,” he panted out. “What are you doing?”

    You hummed, not bothering with answering just yet. You’d never done this with him. Tasted him. He had his share more times than you could count, and you didn’t mind, but fuck if you didn’t want to taste him. Tugging on the briefs he wore, you met his eyes noticing the dazed look in them. You could see he wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to being taken care of this way without expecting to do anything in return.

    How did he look so fucking pretty?

    He must have a gene in his body that allowed him to wake up beautiful. Of course he would. The man doesn’t even know how pretty he looks. You were on the verge of telling him, of showing him all your favorite parts and explaining why. And you’d start with those eyes of his.

    “I’m having breakfast,” you teased, seeing the flash in his eyes as he raised his hips to let you pull him out completely, the hissed out breath when you wrapped a hand around him better than you imagined. “Can I?”

    You had to ask. He always asked with you and you found that you loved it more than anything, so when you posed the question you just expected a yes. Or perhaps a nod. But his hand grasping your jaw to drag you back up to his lips, the broken sound tearing from his throat as your tongue licked into his mouth, was unexpected.

    “Yes,” he panted out, his lips pink and swollen. A sight you wanted to keep in your memory forever. You seriously needed a damn camera.

    He kept his eyes on you as you shifted down his body, the breakfast now forgotten about as you pumped him once, eager to watch as he fell apart because of you. The view was one you’d never get tired of, but seeing his eyes flutter shut, head tilted back and a sound that had you clenching around nothing, was something different. This was him losing himself in a different piece of you. Losing himself in what you were giving him.

    “So pretty,” you mumbled, tongue peeking out to taste him.

    “I’d have to-oh fucking shit-” he hissed sharply through his teeth as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, tongue pushing against the underside of it.

    “You’d have to what?” you asked, pulling off him and watching his eyes zero in on the spit that was smudged on your bottom lip.

    How had you not done this sooner? 

    You understood it now. Why he always wanted to reduce you to a mess of absolute pleasure. Someone who couldn’t see past the haze that he had concocted and now it finally made sense, because nothing felt better than watching his dazed eyes watch as you enjoyed his taste.

    “You’re going to be the death of me sweetheart.”

    You smiled, hand pumping him slowly and deliberately to where he was shaking from the euphoria of nothing but your touch. “Do you want me to stop?”

    “No!” He coughed, the tinge of red on his cheeks and ears prominent enough for you to tell how he felt. “I mean-please-if you want to-”

    His words shifted into a moan as you wrapped your lips around him again, hand continuing to pump him with every inch you enveloped in the wet warmth of your mouth. You wanted this to last. Every second that you got to watch him fall apart all from your mouth, but you saw the way his body began to tense. The stuttering moans turning to breathy sounds. Each one more sinful than the last.

    “Fuck baby,” he grunted out, hips jolting upwards when you began to fondle his balls. 

    You didn’t mean to gag, but the blunt tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat forced it. Only that seemed to spur him on further, a growl tearing from his throat as he reached to place a hand on your head, guiding you through the movements. Breathing through your nose you swallowed around him, feeling your lower body practically bear down on nothing as a whine echoed off the walls. He was gone. Utterly ripped to shreds with every bob of your head.

    “Sweetheart-fucking perfect-sucking my cock and still looking beautiful-”

    He needed to shut up fast, because you were five seconds away from shoving your hand in your underwear and finishing yourself off with him. Really it didn’t seem like such a bad idea, but this wasn’t about you. The morning sun began to completely shine through the curtains letting you know what time it was and that this wouldn’t last much longer.

    You wanted to take him apart slowly, delicately. Until he couldn’t remember his own name, but you felt the way his body tightened. The rambling words having turned to nothing but low grunts and moans of your name, because he was five seconds away from breaking. Tightening your grip slightly you pumped him faster, sucking on the head of his cock until you felt it. The way his thighs shook under you, his hand on your head now digging into your shoulder as a sound you’d never heard him make echoed through the room.

    “Baby I’m going to-” He got cut off by your hum, the knowledge that you wanted this. You wanted to drink him down as he had done to you many times before. “Fuck!” he shouted, a cry of your name following soon after as the taste of him filled your mouth.

    You didn’t expect him to taste like that, especially with all the alcohol the two of you consumed, but then you realized he barely drank. In fact, he only drank with you. Moaning you continued to run your tongue over him, cleaning up what you’d missed, hand still pumping him until his shot down to still your movements. You were so focused on prolonging his pleasure you failed to notice the completely fucked out look on his face. His mouth slightly parted as he panted, cheeks tinged red along with his chest.

    Oh you fucking loved that look.

    “You’re going to suck the soul out of my body baby,” he mumbled drunkenly, the dazed look in his eyes more than you could take.

    Why hadn’t you done this before? No wonder why he was always adamant on you coming apart on his tongue first. It felt like you were floating on cloud nine with him. You moved to climb off, but his hands gripped your hips, forcing you to sit on his thighs as he slowly sat up with you.

    “I want to do that again,” you replied, lips brushing against his and if the way he shut his eyes and took in a shuddered breath told you anything. He liked what he heard.

    “Give me a few minutes. I don’t want you to actually suck the soul out of my body.”

    Reaching over you grabbed the plate of eggs and the now semi cold cup of coffee. “Death by blow job. That’ll be a new one.”

    “A story to tell our friends, that's for sure.”

    Our friends. Our. He might not have realized what he said, because he was half dazed from the orgasm or too focused on the plate of eggs, but you heard him loud and clear. It may not be a big deal. Except it was to you. The fact that he didn’t call them his friends, or merely customers at the bar, but that he considered them a part of both of your lives.

    “I’m sure Poe would get a kick out of it.” You pushed the hair that was stuck to his forehead away from his face, smiling at the look he gave you.

    He set the half empty plate back on his nightstand. “Poe is already traumatized by us. I don’t think he needs to know that fact.”

    That’s true. Poe knew more about your sex life from simply being near you and Romeo than anyone should actually know. Although you had to blame that on the fact that the both of you were insatiable for one another. That and Romeo seemed to be completely content with having you anywhere at any time. You knew that you had become as bad as he was, but you blamed that on hormones and the irresistible charm of the man in front of you.

    Yes. His charm. That’s what did it.

    “Want to tell me what I did to deserve breakfast in bed with a blowjob?” he asked, hands sliding up your back to press you closer to him.

    You sighed, hands tangling in his slightly messy hair. “Can’t a girl make her…”

    Well shit. The morning had been calm, without any bothers, and yet there were those words. The ones that felt strange to say but in every other way felt completely right. What were you? The conversation both of you seemed to ignore for as long as this started happening. Was he your boyfriend? Were you his girlfriend? Had things progressed this much to where you could now finally admit those feelings to one another? So many unanswered questions and it seemed he was as nervous as you when it came to searching for those answers.

    But maybe...he wasn’t.

    “Her boyfriend?”

    The air caught in your lungs, an unknown feeling beginning to spread from your chest to what felt like the very tips of your fingers and toes. He had said it. The one thing you wanted, but was too afraid to say so, and maybe it was a mistake to admit it. To finally say you wanted this man who drove you insane in all the best ways possible to be with you. For as long as either of you wanted.

    “Are you sure?” you asked, the hesitancy clear in your voice. Was he sure about this? Were you?

    “Poe called you my girlfriend the other day.” His hands ran along your back, almost as if he was trying to reassure you of this situation, of the decision you were both about to make.

    You nodded, hands cupping his face. “He did.”

    “And I couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t true yet.”

    He was really going to say it. Tell you that he wanted you as more than whatever this happened to be. So, why were you terrified? Why did you feel as though everything would fall apart after this? Perhaps you were being irrational. The fear of jumping into something new was clouding your vision of what this could be, but even you knew that it was more than that. Him. You. This relationship, friendship, whatever you called it. It was more.

    “Romeo, are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?” you asked, unable to stop the smile from forming on your lips.

    “Give me a chance to say it sweetheart.”

    “Well I don’t know I might have to say it for you-” You yelped as he tossed you on your back, practically crushing you as he lay on top of you. Expecting his signature glare you were surprised to see him smiling, his eyes no longer dazed or riddled with exhaustion.

    To say he had grabbed your attention was an understatement. “Will you let me say it?”

    You nodded, keeping your mouth shut as you tried to ignore the way your heart hammered in your chest. Fuck could he feel it? The way that your stomach twisted when he brushed his lips against yours. You’d think that after weeks of this, of having him long for you with every passing minute, you’d be used to having him this close. But it still felt like the first time. And maybe that was a good thing.

    “Sweetheart,” he murmured, nose brushing against yours, smiling when you took a shuddered breath. “Will you be mine?”

    His. He wanted you to be his. You could recall the first time he said it. The reaction was almost involuntary. As if he said it before he could think about the words that spilled out of his mouth. Except this wasn’t that.

    “I’ve always been yours Din.” Kissing him didn’t feel like enough, didn’t feel like it would show the emotion you’ve been holding inside you for weeks on end.

    “Say it again,” he said, his voice cracking at the end.

    “I’m yours.”

    It felt easier than breathing to whisper those two words over and over again. Repeating it for as long as he needed to hear it. Because this felt right. Felt like you finally found a missing piece that you didn’t know you were searching for. And maybe Din had been it all along. Maybe you had to survive the hurdles, the pain, every agonizing minute in order to find your way to him. To find your way here.

    His lips met yours and you knew that leaving the room wasn’t an option anymore. But it was okay, because if given the choice between being anywhere else and being here in bed with him. You’d choose Din, every time.

    “Five fucking dollars! I bet you five dollars you can’t drink all of it.” Poe stood on a chair, shouting across the bar at Paz who was currently in the middle of pouring his sixth shot of whiskey. How he was still standing you didn’t know, but you had to hand it to him. He knew how to handle his drinks.

    “Five dollars? That’s it Dameron?” he shouted, downing yet another shot. “You’re a cheap ass!”

    “Twenty.” You turned at the sound of Din placing his bet. 

    Normally he didn’t condone people placing bets in his bar, let alone the chaos that was happening now. But you wanted to wager that the two extra hours you spent in bed nearly coming apart at the seams from his tongue had something to do with it. You were his girlfriend. Din Djarin’s girlfriend. Romeo’s girl. You couldn’t fathom how it happened. Didn’t understand it fully, because you were pretty sure you’d left this realm and entered another one the second it happened. You still had yet to tell anyone else, but that didn’t seem to matter. Not when it felt this intense between the two of you.

    “Fifty,” you said, eyebrow raising as you bit your lip to stifle the smile.

    “Shit Djarin your girl’s going to top your wager.”

    He tossed the towel on the bar, his eyes never leaving yours. “One hundred.”

    Was it wrong to admit that you wanted him at that moment? Probably. Get it together. You were about to have your wager topped, and while you didn’t much care about that, you were adamant on keeping whatever was happening between you and him going. Only to keep it going meant to prolong the tension between the both of you and he’d already dragged you to the storage room once. His hand was down your jeans faster than you could ask him what was wrong.

    One hundred dollars. You’d say that was a fair wager.

    “You win Romeo,” you said, leaning closer to him, your hand brushing against his thigh. “Go for it Paz.”

    The cheers echoed in the background, but you weren’t focused on the fact that Paz was downing shots like water. Or that Poe had taken another step upward and was now standing on a table, a bottle of vodka in his hand. No, you were focused solely on the man who had cupped your chin, tilting your head back to kiss you slowly. The chaos of the bar now an afterthought, because you were burying your hands in his hair to drag him closer, as you sucked on his tongue.

    “Storeroom?” he asked through a broken kiss, his hands grasping at your ass to drag you closer.

    “You want people to hear us Romeo?”

    He laughed, forehead resting against yours. “I have no problem with it. Let the man sitting at the bar who’s been eyeing you know that you’re my girl.”

    Why the fuck did that make your whole lower body tighten up? The warm rush of heat at the base of your spine now spreading through your body the longer you contemplated his words. Was it simply the act of him being possessive of you that had you ready to bend over the bar? You had it bad for him.

    “I didn’t see a guy.”

    Din glanced over your head to see that Paz had finished his shots and was doing a victory lap around the bar. You laughed, noticing that sometime in the night he had changed from his usual black t-shirt to a light blue crop top. Whoever that belonged to wasn’t going to want that back. Not after he most likely spilled half a bottle of whiskey on it.

    “He must have left.”

    You hummed, turning back to him. “How much do you want to bet the kiss was the reason he left.”

    “If I keep making bets with you sweetheart I’m going to end up broke.”

    The single shot of vodka you had earlier must have been why you let the next few words slip, but it’s not like you weren’t thinking about it the whole time. Din might be willing to take risks, but he had yet to learn about how far you’d be willing to go. Fucking in the bar in front of people had become the least of your worries.

    “One more bet,” you said, no longer bothering with the noise of the bar and wishing that it was just you and him and a bottle. He sighed, the smile on his face giving away everything. “Fifty bucks says that I can get you off right here without a single person noticing.”

    He visibly choked on air, his eyes widening as he coughed. “Sweetheart-”

    “You up for it Romeo?” If he was willing you’d do your best to win the bet, but even you knew this was meant to be nothing more than a tease. Except then his eyes narrowed, lips curling upwards as he dragged your hand closer to the zipper on his jeans.

    “Someone has to keep them distracted.”

    Oh fuck.

    Turning you faced Paz who was practically swaying on his feet. “I bet that Poe can’t do the same amount of shots!”

    He spun to Poe who was sitting on the table that had five people in chairs around it. You’d seen them here before and guessed they were friends of his. One of these days you would have to say hi. Poe glanced towards you, a bottle of vodka placed in between his legs and an empty shot glass in his hand. He didn’t have to take the bet. Didn’t have to give you a stroke of luck, but he must have been pretty gone already because he smiled, nodding his head in agreement.

    “Same amount,” Din said, already dragging you to the very corner behind the bar that was thankfully blocked by people who were beginning to crowd around Poe.

    You were really about to do this. You were about to get your boyfriend off in the middle of his bar, and you were going to love every second of it. What had this man done to you? Your hand tugged at his belt, arm slinging around his neck to look like you and him were doing nothing but embracing. Another round of cheers went through the bar, causing you to smile, because you finally understood.

    Why he chose a bar out of all places to make his home.

    “What are you smiling at?” he asked, his lips curling up slightly in a smile that he looked to be fighting.

    “I just-” Another cheer followed by Poe shouting he was a champion. “I get it now. Why you wanted to make this place your home.”

    You thought you saw something come across his eyes, something akin to pain. But it was gone within a moment. Only a flash of the man that truly lay underneath the armor. The man you continued to attempt to bring out into the modern world; to convince that you refused to go anywhere. Not after what’s happened.

    “Sweetheart-” The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the cheers turning to screams, a bang echoing in the air as people began to sprint towards the door.

    Din shoved you behind him, his eyes already searching the crowd for something gone wrong, and you figured it was Poe. Maybe he fell on accident. Maybe they all saw a wild animal. Yeah that had to be it. A wild animal somehow got into the place. You ran around the bar to find Din amidst the chaos but stopped at the sight of a silver weapon heading in your direction.

    “Shit!” You acted quickly, dropping to the ground. The unmistakable sound of metal hitting wood echoing behind you. What the fuck was going on? “Romeo?”

    “Y/N!”

    Din.

    Grabbing onto the person’s hand you got ready to throw yourself into Din’s arms but was met with the brown eyes of Poe instead. The drunk look in his eyes now faded, shadowed by something else. Something darker. Fear buried itself in your gut, your heart going haywire and you tried to find him. Find the man who you couldn’t lose, and just as you saw him helping someone up from under a table that was nearly knocked over, you heard it. The cold, spine chilling voice of her.

    “She’s pretty Mando!”

    Din’s eyes met yours, his fear replaced by a look you hadn’t seen him wear since they came to the bar. Fury. Enough to have you turning away. He was utterly furious that they had come back, that they dared to cross the threshold of his home. And you could feel it come off of him in waves. They were dead. Poe tugged you behind the bar, taking a stance in front of you, his knife already in his hand. You didn’t even know he carried one.

    “Get to him,” you said softly, nodding your head in Din’s direction.

    “Paz is with him.”

    There’d be no way Paz could help with this. Not after the amount of alcohol he drank, but that’s what you thought about Poe and here he was ready to fight. What was it about bikers and being able to hold their liquor? You would have to ask them later, but right now you were watching as two unknown men stalked towards Din. It wasn’t until you saw the guns in their hands did you realize that this wasn’t a simple sit down and talk like before.

    “Get out of my bar,” Din said, his voice sharper than the blade on Poe’s knife.

    Ten seconds. That’s all you had. Ten seconds before someone pulled a trigger, and in that miniscule amount of time you did your best to come up with something. Anything to stop shit from turning sideways. You’d never been in this situation before; didn’t know what would work, but Din had a gun being held to his face and you could feel a different whirlwind of emotions begin to surface. He was in danger.

    Din was in danger.

    “There’s no need to make a mess now is there Mando.” The man’s voice sounded irritating already. But that might have been the anger. “I’ve heard about what you can do. Is it true? You’re the best bounty hunter they had?”

    Bounty-

    You froze, listening to the words being tossed around as if they were nothing. Bounty hunter. And it felt like every puzzle piece had fallen into place, all the times you speculated on his past but never truly came up with a solid answer. One that would define the man he used to be. He couldn’t possibly be a bounty hunter. Except maybe that’s why he never found your joking speculations to be funny, because...they were true.

    His eyes were on you before you could turn in his direction, and the cloud of fear had returned. But for a different reason. Din was afraid you would leave him after this. After figuring out his past, and that’s why he never told you. The tightening of your gut began to lighten up. This was him. The Din Djarin before the bar, before he tried to make himself better. The bounty hunter Mandalorian, and you knew that after tonight things would be different. Knew he’d be waiting for you to walk out the door and never return, but you couldn’t.

    Not when he was so tied to you that it would physically pain you to leave.

    Turning away you didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, because only one thing mattered. The woman Xi’an stood on the other side of the bar, her gaze focused on you and you alone. Because she wanted to kill you. Already the understanding had come over you. What you didn’t know is why would she bring two other men not even Din knew to finish the job.

    “Going somewhere sweetheart,” she called out, her voice the equivalent to cat claws sinking into your skin.

    Ignore her.

    Ignore her.

    You chanted it in your head, continuing to contemplate your rather stupid plan. Get into the storeroom. That’s all you needed and from there you’d be in the clear. Well not exactly, but getting into the storeroom was the only part of the plan you had worked out. You could rip out the woman’s purple hair later.

    “Tell me. Does he fuck you the way he used to fuck me?”

    Or now.

    Now seemed like the perfect time. You caught sight of Din turning in your direction through your peripheral vision, but that didn’t seem to trouble you. Not when you were happily picturing what it would be like to have the bitch in front of you begging on her knees. She could insult you all she wanted, but going for that part of your life was off limits. Not to mention it left you with a bad taste in your mouth.

    “Xi’an! We’re not here for petty fighting. Boss gave us a job to do.”

    They were here on a job. Did that make Din the job? She turned to the man who currently held a gun at Paz, beginning to yell in a language you didn’t understand. But it gave you enough time to slip away from where you stood. Ten seconds were up, which means someone would shoot. Worst case scenario they kill the man you know you were falling for, and well the best case would be they underestimate that same man and watch as he loses his shit. You could bet that Romeo was five seconds away from killing them.

    Which is why you had to work fast.

    “Where the fuck is it,” you muttered, skidding to a halt in the center of the storeroom. And against the wall, sat the prettiest sight you’d seen in ages.

    Sure you were against them, and nearly made Romeo toss it out, but in situations like this the gun leaning propped up against the wall practically made you sing. The box of bullets was on the shelf above it, and you thankfully knew enough to load it. Messily, and you almost dropped half the box, but you did it. Taking a breath you began to understand what you were about to do. The stupidest decision in your life, but it had to be done.

    Shouting had erupted once more back in the bar and when you walked in you found Din on his knees, hands behind his head as he glared daggers at the man in front of him. Fury didn’t even begin to describe what emotions waged war within your body. Enough anger to kill. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and these assholes were about to find out if the statement held up.

    “Hey dipshits.” The sound of the gun being loaded caught their attention and had them quickly turning to face in your direction. “Get the fuck out of my boyfriend’s bar.”

    You counted the seconds in the silence as everyone stared at the one they underestimated the most as a threat. And you got to exactly twenty before a different kind of chaos began. Din lunged at the man, grappling for his gun as Poe leaped over the bar, taking on man number two. Which left you with the purple haired menace herself. It seemed she liked this option more than you did, and you knew she could sense your inexperience with fighting.

    It was true. You had never held a gun before this night. Never got into a fight, and now you were doing both simultaneously. To say you needed a drink after this was an understatement. She moved in your direction, knife flipping delicately in her hands, and you were suddenly glad for one thing. Playing baseball for those few months in college may have sucked, but if there was one thing they said you were good enough at, it was pitching. For one simple reason.

    Aim.

    The shot went off before she could blink and the shout she let out as her knife clattered to the floor left you satisfied. Din was afraid of letting you in on his past, because he thought you would run for the hills. When in fact you were jumping into the action, doing whatever you could to help him.

    “You bitch!” She moved to fling her second knife, but it landed behind the bar shattering a bottle on it’s way there. You didn’t shoot that time. Except you had an idea who it was responsible and sure enough there stood Romeo, gun covering half his face as he held it in her direction. The look in his eyes, enough to have you stepping back.

    “Step away from my girlfriend.”

    She sneered, moving closer instead of farther away. “You know Mando. You used to be a lot more fun before you fell in love.”

    “You used to be a lot less of a bitch. Before you tried to kill my girl.”

    Cursing at your heart for flipping in your chest, you focused on the woman who looked like she would lunge at Din. And while he had his finger on the trigger, you knew he wouldn’t kill her. Wouldn’t harm anyone unless needed, because while they called him a bounty hunter you knew that he left that behind. He said he wanted to start over for a reason.

    So, you did the only logical thing you could do.

    You turned the gun, raised it and whistled in Xi’an’s direction, forcing her to turn towards you. Din looked like he nearly dropped the gun he was holding at the sight of you slamming the butt your gun into her nose. And really you wouldn’t blame him if he did. Even you were surprised at what you were doing. She collapsed instantly, her nose most likely broken; blood trailing down her face.

    Was it a mistake? Probably. But then you saw his face, and knew you’d done the right thing.

    “Sweetheart…” he whispered, eyes still wide from watching you knock someone out with a gun.

    “Are you okay?”

    You got ready for him to take the gun. To tell you that it was dangerous for you to even be within five feet of it. You certainly didn’t expect him to start laughing. His head fell back, hand clutching his stomach, as he laughed in a way that even you hadn’t seen him laugh before. One that had you joining him in a matter of moments. Neither of you cared that there were three unconscious people in his bar, or the fact that you were in danger merely a few minutes ago. You just cared that he was alive; he was safe.

    “You just knocked out someone and you’re asking me if I’m okay.”

    You shrugged, setting the gun down carefully on the bar. “Are you?”

    “Y/N.” Your name falling from his lips startled you. It wasn’t sweetheart, or baby, or even cyar’ika. It was your name and you couldn’t recall him having ever called you by your first name. “Come here.”

    He didn’t need to tell you twice. The urge to fall into him was there the second the danger began; even more so now. Had your heart been racing this fast the entire time? How were you not shaky in that situation? For fucks sake you held a gun. You held a...gun. Your mind couldn’t wrap around that fact even for a moment, because it seemed too ridiculous to comprehend. How did things get to that point?

    “I held a gun,” you said against his chest, trying to count the beats of his steady heart. Hoping that it would calm you down.

    “Thank you.” He whispered it against your hair, his breath hitting your skin as he let out one that he must have been holding.

    He was thanking you…

    What did he have to thank you for? If the roles were reversed and you were in his position, he would have done the exact same thing. After all you do stupid things when you’re in love. Holy. Shit. You nearly fell back out of his arms as the one word you seemed to be terrified of crossed your mind. Love. Love? How the fuck could you already be in love. You’d only known the man for a short time.

    It had to be a fluke. The adrenaline of the fight talking, because you could have very well lost your life tonight. No, you absolutely weren’t in love, you just held strong feelings for the man. And thought about him all the time...and about the future you could have with him. Well fuck.

    “Need help cleaning up?” you asked, trying to get your mind off everything that just transpired. Even if it took you wiping down glasses for hours.

    He huffed out a laugh. The sound familiar and warm. “Sure cyar’ika. I’d love some.”

    “Djarin, you owe me one hundred dollars.” Paz managed to walk straight in your direction, his eyes still dazed and words slightly slurred. He must have had more than one bottle to drink tonight. “I’ll be on my way after that.”

    You snorted. “Paz you can barely walk.”

    “Says you.”

    Yeah he was gone.

    “Can one of you take this drunk bastard home?” Din asked, handing you a towel with a small pat to your ass that had you jumping away with a laugh. “I’ll pay you.”

    The grumble of agreements was reluctant to say the least, but what could you expect. Getting Paz to go home meant they’d have to somehow get him on their bike. But you were pretty sure you saw a car parked outside that didn’t belong to Din or Poe. One guy slung Paz’s arm over he shoulder, the slurred question of what the fuck they were doing spilling from his lips as he was practically dragged away.

    “That’s the last time I let him drink that much.” Din shook his head, another laugh leaving his lips. For someone who had multiple guns held to his head on the same night, he seemed pretty calm.

    You wondered if it was just a front for the guys here. Or if he truly felt okay with what happened. And if so...why?

    It took three guys and Poe holding Paz’s winning cash within seeing distance, but eventually they got him into the backseat of the car. All the while he continued to shout about how much he loved Din and how much he wanted to come back and do this again. You had to grip Din’s hands in your own to stop him from flipping off his friend. But eventually it came down to just you and him as always. The chaos of the night now a stark silence.

    Neither of you had bothered with the jukebox, and honestly the thought of music gave you a headache on its own. Because you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. Couldn’t get the image of Din on his knees, hands behind his head, out of your mind. It was burned behind your eyelids. The anxiety of the moment, of the night, still coursing through your veins, and you didn’t see it wearing off anytime soon.

    Which is probably why you had already cleaned nearly every table and began to stock inventory for tomorrow night.

    “Are you okay?” His voice coming from directly behind you had you nearly dropping the bottle you were holding.

    “Shit don’t scare me like that.” Except him sneaking up on you hadn’t scared you this much before.

    His hands covered yours, taking the bottle and setting it lightly near the sink. “I’m sorry.”

    “You don’t have to apologize for that. My heart is just all over-”

    “No. I’m sorry for what happened tonight.” His words caught you off guard, the weight of them heavy in the air as you finally watched his armor fall to the ground. It only happened for you, when the both of you were alone, and you were grateful that it did, because now you could see him. See your Din rather than the one the others knew.

    He was apologizing for putting you in danger, for being the cause of all of this, and for nearly losing you. Except even you knew there was no need for an apology. Not when he didn’t do anything but try to protect the people here, protect you. All before he even bothered to protect himself.

    “Din-”

    His thumb covering your lips cut you off. “Yes I have to apologize sweetheart. They were here because of me.”

    “But you didn’t know they would come.”

    Silence.

    Did he know they would come? Is that why he was beating himself up about this? Ready to beg for your forgiveness over it.

    “I figured it would happen sooner or later. I just didn’t expect you to be here when it did.”

    “So you planned to face them alone. With no help.”

    He nodded, eyes looking at your hands rather than at your face, because he knew it was stupid. Knew that to await them alone meant his death, or even worse. He wanted to be here alone when it happened, and you couldn’t understand why. Couldn’t come up with a reason as to why he felt the need to face this threat alone. When he had an entire family of people to help him when he most needed it.

    “You’re an idiot Din Djarin.” He looked up, startled by your words. “I know you like to think you’re alone in this. Like to believe you have no one, but that’s bullshit and you know it. You have a family and whether you want them or not, they’re here for you...I’m here for you.”

    Maybe it was stupid to admit it, but he had to hear it. Had to understand that everyone here tonight was ready to put their lives at risk for this man. Because they cared for him.

    “I mean fuck even Poe protected you, which means he must really like you after what-” He yanked you closer, hand wrapping around the back of your neck as he slotted his lips over yours in a kiss that had your knees turning weak.

    He waited long enough for this.

    Or maybe that was you.

    “I’m going to tell you why they were here,” he mumbled against your lips. “What I was. I think...that it’s time.”

    Pulling away before you could even get a word in, he grabbed a bottle of the half finished whiskey you were working on and headed towards a table. This was really happening. He was going to divulge a part of himself to you, and all you could do was stand there. Why were you just standing there? Move, you shouted to yourself, forcing your legs to head in his direction, before you plopped in a chair opposite to him.

    “I was a bounty hunter,” he said, pouring you a glass and pushing it your way.

    “What does that mean exactly?”

    He smiled, downing his glass quickly. “I used to bring in people who owed my boss money.”

    “Alive?”

    Hesitation is all it took to give you the answer. Sometimes they weren’t always alive. Which means the man across from you had in fact killed people. Why weren’t you running for the hills right now? Usually if someone says they have committed murder, you run. Sprint for the door. This is why he took so long to tell you, because he was afraid you’d leave. But instead you met his eyes, calculated the fear in them, and reached for the bottle. Pouring him another glass.

     Letting him know that whatever he told you tonight, you were still all in.

    “Who was your boss?”

    He coughed. “For your safety and mine...let’s call him Moff.”

    “Moff...strange name. Is that his first or last name?”

    “It’s more of a title.”

    “It’s still strange.”

    “Sweetheart-”

    You held up your hands in surrender. “Alright sorry. Continue please.”

    “He wasn’t by all means good. Actually he wasn’t good at all. But that’s besides the point. I made some stupid mistakes when I was younger...got a few people in trouble including myself and it ended badly. Which is how I became a bounty hunter for him.” He took a sip, allowing you to digest the information. “The crew I ran with at the time, that were bikers, ended up being dragged in with me.”

    “Is that why they were here? To bring you back to that man?”

    He shook his head. “No, no as far as I know they got out when I did. Managed to buy their freedom while I worked for it until I couldn’t anymore.”     “Couldn’t anymore?” Not the time. You saw his expression and immediately backtracked, because that was a story for a different time. One you’d wait to hear. “So why were they here tonight?”

    “They’re probably pissed I dragged them into that situation. Wanted to get their revenge somehow. And that job they offered...it’s bullshit. I called someone last night to find out what it was. Nothing but a way to get me out of here.”

    “So they showed up tonight expecting you to be…”

    “Alone.” He took a sharp breath in, already knowing you knew what he would say next. “But then they met you sweetheart. And knew that well you were...you were important to me.”

    They came here for you. To hurt him. That’s what you couldn’t wrap your head around, because it seemed insane for that to be real. For him to find you important in his life. Vital enough to fight for. But there it was, staring you in the face. Din cared for you, more than he had told you and suddenly, your nerves were on fire for a different reason.

    He cared for you. A lot. Maybe even enough to utter that fateful word that changed lives. But not tonight.

    Not when that had happened.

    “Thank you,” you said.

    “For what?”

    “For telling me.” You glanced at your barely touched glass of whiskey. “I know it’s not easy talking about your past. So, thanks for letting me in on some part of it.”

    Getting up, you downed the glass and set it down gently. What you really needed was some food and a shower to clean off the dirt and grime of the night. But you still had to finish stocking bottles. So, you pressed a kiss to his lips and headed towards the jukebox to play a song to hopefully lighten the mood. To let him know that life could go back to normal, because you were okay. You weren’t upset, or scared of him, you were just happy you were both alive.

    “I’m going to make a snack. You want anything?” you asked.

    He shook his head, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “No, I'm okay.” The leftover pasta Poe brought earlier sounded delicious and you had half a mind to run upstairs, but Din’s arm around your waist stopped you. “Thank you for staying,” he said.

    The same words as last night, the same ones that solidified everything about this situation. Why you didn’t run out the door. Why you continued to come back day after day. Because Din meant more than you liked to believe. Had your heart in his hands, just as you had his; a blind trust that you placed in one another the day you met. Stupid enough to say you’re the one I choose to give you this important piece of myself to, in hopes that he’d keep it safe.

    “I’m not going anywhere Din.”

    And you meant it.

    Because he’d kept that part of you safe. Ever since you walked drunkenly into his bar.

    Three in the morning is always an odd time to be awake. You supposed it wasn’t too odd for Din, seeing as how he was a bartender and four in the morning is usually when he closed down the bar. Yet everyone had left two hours ago, and you were still awake. Listening to him shuffle around downstairs as he got things ready for the next night. A familiar routine that you knew by heart now, that you welcomed every night, because while he was nocturnal, Din certainly was interesting at night.

    It seemed that all his worries, stress, and well even his moral compass vanished around two in the morning. Which left a relaxed version of him by three.

    Hearing his voice calling your name, you headed out of the storeroom where you were busy counting bottles, to see him wiping down the bar. Rather thoroughly. You figured it had spilled alcohol and maybe even a bit of blood from earlier on it, so you didn’t see anything odd about this sight.

    “Can you grab the trash?” he asked, shifting to the right.

    “Sure.”

    You were certain he had tossed it earlier, but again it didn’t seem like anything odd. After all, you did recall saying you were the best at taking out the trash at one point. You had to hold up that title.

    You didn’t catch his grin when you passed, didn’t see how he stopped wiping down the bar, and certainly didn’t see the way his eyes latched onto your ass when you bent over. Instead, you went about your business. The music drowned out any sounds he made and you focused on that, instead of the man behind you currently running a thumb over his bottom lip. Moving something out of the way, you reached for the-

    The bag was empty. 

    So, what the hell did he need you to come take out the trash for? Turning to face him, you were met with dark eyes roaming your figure shamelessly, a hunger in them eyes that you’d grown accustomed to seeing. It seemed that the more time you spent around each other, the more that happened between the two of you, he grew more insatiable. Or it might have been this night in particular. The anxiety of nearly losing one another, turning into something else.

    Relief you were alive.

    “Din?” you asked.

    His eyes locked on yours, and you knew you’d hit the nail on the head. What the hell were you supposed to do now? He had you stuck in place, apparently right where he wanted you, and you were willing to do what he asked. You’d get on your knees if he so wished it, because the things he could do to you still played in your mind. But he chose to just continue watching you. Seemingly happy with the sight of you slowly losing your mind as you waited for him to do something. 

    Should you do something? Is that what he wanted? For you to do something to him.

    The music continued to play in the background, a noise you’d grown used to tuning out by now. Except now you could barely hear it, because he shifted his eyes away from you, turning back to whatever he was doing. You stood dumbstruck wondering if you’d done something wrong. Did he just assume that you had meant to ask what was wrong? Maybe that was it. You knew you were wrong instantly when he slid a hand up his shirt, his palm coming up towards his chest and lightly rubbing the skin. 

    Maybe he hurt himself earlier during the fight or-

    You watched, trying not to salivate at the sight of the inky black lines across his skin. The skull tattoo peeking out happily at you, the happy trail you’d licked and nipped down to this morning, on full display. He wasn’t hurt. Din Djarin was fucking with you. He was trying to do whatever he could to get you to snap in half and beg for him like before. Something to take the edge off the night of chaos.

    And you relished in it. Loved that was initiating this game once more.

    He turned back towards you, his hand coming out from under his shirt and hiding his skin, hiding the tattoos again, and returned to his place of watching you. Now was your chance to do something, anything.

    You just needed him to touch you. Needed to feel him and know that he was okay, because the images from earlier still refused to leave your mind. Still stuck to you like a scar you didn’t wish to bear.

    Taking in a deep breath, that he obviously noticed, if the way his eyes shot down to your chest told you anything, you took a step closer. You knew his game by now, knew how he’d drive you to the very edge only to pull back. It made you want to scream, but then the memory of him losing at his own game not too long ago came back to you. 

    “What do you want to do with me?” you asked. The question that sparked memories from that night and you hoped he remembered how it felt to be on the edge of something earth-shattering. 

    His eyes narrowed, tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. 

    He remembered. 

    “Sweetheart,” he practically cooed at you, his voice dripping with a tease that you could hear clearly.

    Was it possible for you to be a mess already? One fucking word. He always did it in one word. Tore you to shreds, made you weak for him, and read you like a damn book. All of it had you heaving in another breath, desperate for anything other than the agonizingly passionate look in his eyes. The tension of the night gave way to this. To a playful three in the morning Din, that had no qualms about teasing you until you were puddy in his hands.

    He took another step closer to you. A game of taunting, of waiting for the other to break. It’s what he excelled in, what you willingly played into, and you got off on it. You could feel yourself practically dripping for him, waiting for him to do something other than watch you. The predatory look in his eyes told you that you weren’t going anywhere for a while, but with the way he barely moved, you weren’t sure. 

    “You like to mess with me, don’t you?” A simple question that didn’t mean anything, but it had his lips curling into another grin.

    “Me? Mess with you? I would never.” Another step closer and you were practically panting for him.

    His nose was practically brushing your cheek, eyes staring into yours, and his hands clenched at his sides as he resisted the urge to touch you. You knew that he was hesitating for a reason. Knew that he still thought you would run after everything he told you; after part of his past came out. But you also knew he wanted this, wanted you. So, you took the last step. You stood close enough to him that his nose brushed yours, and your lips nearly pressed against his when you spoke. 

    Molton brown eyes flashed down to your lips and back up, the tenderness showing through. A small bit of what he didn’t let the rest of the world see. 

    “Liar,” you breathed out.

    Your very own tease this time, and it worked. His hands shot out to grip at you, yanking you closer as his lips slotted against yours. This would not be a gentle kiss like he usually did. Not another light press of his lips to yours to just feel them. No, he was devouring you. His tongue breaking open your mouth, delving in and taking no chance for you to have control. You understood why; understood that he needed to know you were okay, that you were safe after what happened.

    His hands dug into your ass, pushing you against him until you were unconsciously grinding against him, desperate for friction, because you were in the same place he was. You gripped at his hair, keeping his lips against yours, but it wasn’t like he wanted to move. His teeth bit down on your bottom lip a little too hard, drawing out a gasp from you, before he swallowed it down. This wasn’t Din kissing you. This was him driving you back to the precipice, right to the very edge of ecstasy.

    This was him assuring himself.

    You needed to breathe and he seemed to know it before you did, moving his attack onto the skin of your neck, till he hit your chest. Was it possible to be dizzy just from his lips? Just from the teeth that sunk into the skin of your breast? Perhaps it was. He was just that good at driving you crazy and he had barely touched you completely yet. 

    “Fuck-” You tugged on his shirt. “-please I need you.” The words came out as a gasp when his hand reached back and cupped your ass again, fingers digging into you from behind. 

    A growl tore from his mouth before he was tearing his shirt off, yanking yours up as well and throwing it to the side. The expanse of skin giving him more room to dig his teeth into you, more of a chance to worship as much of you as he could. Except he didn’t want to do it standing up. You knew he’d get on his knees for you, having seen him do it before, but this was different.

    He remained in charge this time and you were perfectly content in letting it happen.

    “Jump,” he muttered, hands on your waist and turning you towards the bar. 

    “What?”

    He squeezed your waist. “I said jump.”

    “I could fall off Din. I can’t sit up there while you-”

    “You’re not going to be sitting, sweetheart.” His words were low and dark, but his eyes still held the lightness of a tease, of wanting to play. Yeah, three in the morning Din continued to remain interesting.

    So, you jumped and swung a leg over each side of the bar till you were practically straddling it. He followed, crouching in front of you, his tattoos on display for you to trace with your gaze, but soon he was pushing you back until you were lying along the bar. The ratty torn old blue jeans you wore were pulled off as well as your shoes, leaving you in only your underwear and bra. You’d think you would feel exposed this way. Lying on his bar as he watched you, but the only thing you felt was the exhilaration of the act.

    Sinful in all the right ways, and suddenly you couldn’t remember what happened mere hours ago. Couldn’t find it in you to relive the moments, because you were there allowing yourself to be free.

    Din sat on the bar, straddling it as well, his hands on your bare thighs, as he took in the sight. You could feel his eyes. Feel the way they traced along every curve, every inch of skin, until they met yours again. He’d stay this way until you were begging him for more, you knew it, because that’s how he liked you. Begging him for more.

    “You going to come closer?” you asked, hoping that spurred him on a bit.

    You couldn’t get the moment that the body shot happened out of your head. How his tongue licked along your torso until you were dripping into your underwear. His eyes flashed to yours again and you saw it. The will he had to just admire hanging on by a very thin thread; and it was snapping. Except you didn’t want him to watch you without doing anything, you wanted him to give into the want he had, give into the desire.

    Din’s eyes widened slightly when your hands came up to cup your own breasts, pinching the nipple through your bra, and causing your stomach to twist. He wanted to watch, then you’d give him a show to enjoy. You’d won the game once, and you’d do it again. One hand remained where it was, while your other slid down your stomach, and slipped into your underwear. Got you. His eyes narrowed at the sight of you dipping your finger into your wet folds, spreading the slick, as his tongue came out again to run across his bottom lip.

    You were the one pressing him, because you knew how much he could hold out. Knew how much he would hold out to watch you be the one to break first. A moan left your lips when you put pressure on your clit, the aching relief a delight to finally feel after he’d done nothing. You figured this would be enough. Him watching you try to get yourself off would be enough to break him, but instead he continued to watch.

    As if you were the best damn film he’d ever seen. 

    “Din,” you whined. 

    He didn’t say anything, his eyes continuing to watch as you pushed a finger into your entrance, your other hand slipping down to push aside your underwear so she could get a glimpse as to how wet you were. You were sure he saw it, because a groan echoed around the now quiet bar. The music had apparently stopped a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed, because you were too busy trying to stay sane. 

    “Sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing his hand up higher on your thigh and making your hips jolt upwards. “How does it feel?”

    Fuck he wanted you to answer a question at this time?

    You were pushing a second finger in to gain more friction, to find the spot inside yourself that would break you. Except none of it was enough. Not when he continued to stare, continued to watch you go crazy, and not do a damn thing about it. You needed him to do something, because your hands alone wouldn’t cut it.

    “I need more.” 

    His hand shifted higher, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. “More huh?”

    “Yes.” You were panting; your fingers pumping into you fast enough to have the sound of your wetness echo around the bar. 

    “You want it, but do you deserve it,” he whispered, leaning down to bite at your thigh.

    You cried out, moving to run a hand through his hair, but he pulled away again. He wanted to know if you deserved it? If you deserved to have him break you over and over again? Any other time you’d be mad, you would scream at him for this, but now with your fingers finally brushing against that spot you needed, and the look in his eyes that almost exhibited pain, you were in heaven. He wanted to be stubborn and hold out; make you break for him, then you’d give him exactly that.

    You’d fall apart for him. Except not in the way he expected.

    Keeping the pace of your fingers steady, you spread your slick on your other fingers, bringing them up to your mouth. You could see him breathing heavily for you, his eyes zeroing in on the fingers you were licking, dipping in and out of your mouth to match the speed of your other hand. A few more thrusts were all you needed, your thumb pressing on your clit before you were falling apart.

    Before you were breaking for him. 

    A sound was torn from his chest as your hand was ripped away leaving you to cry out in anger this time. You were inches away from an orgasm, one more thrust from completely shattering and he’d taken it away from you. Din really wanted to make you hit him, and you were about to. Except your underwear was torn from your body, legs being pulled until they were draped over his shoulders.

    You didn’t expect him to yank you forward, didn’t expect him to push your hips into the bar, and you certainly weren’t prepared for when he latched onto your clit. A scream tore from your throat, hand coming to dig into his hair as he spread your slick with his tongue, until he lashed at your clit. The orgasm from mere moments ago, rushed back up into your veins until you were bucking against his mouth, crying out his name.

    He practically folded you in half as he continued to lick at you as if you were the best damn thing he’d tasted. Maybe you were, you wouldn’t have known either way. But the overstimulation was driving you crazy. He dug his fingers into you tighter, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking on it just to hear you scream again. Better than any music he’s heard before, better than any whiskey he’s had, and better than any dream he had about you.

    “Din!” you screaming. “Fuck-I’m-” The words died on your throat when he slipped two fingers into you, curling them exactly where you needed them.

    Another sound echoed through the bar, a feral sound of pleasure that apparently came from you, as your second orgasm of the night crashed over you. It tore through you, shattering you into pieces, and caused you to thrash in his hold as he continued to suck at your clit. Whines fell from your lips, the aftershocks of him licking at you were causing your body to jolt with each movement of his tongue.

    It wasn’t until you shoved at his head did he actually stop, leaving you feeling boneless and dazed. The thought that you were nearly completely naked on top of his bar, spread out like a meal didn’t occur to you anymore. None of it occurred to you, except the fact that he was rubbing small circles into your hips, trying to sooth his harsh hold on you. The skin would be tender, you knew that, but you would enjoy it either way.

    He scooted back, resting your legs back on either side of the bar, before leaning forward to press kisses to your skin. Hot open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your thigh, your hip bone, your stomach, everywhere he could reach. You continued to run a hand through his hair, tugging on the locks whenever he bit into you, but the calm feeling of just being there with him was returning. The relief of the night settling in your bones. You knew for a fact that you were dripping onto the bar, but what you didn’t know was how much he wanted to taste you again.

    “Did I deserve it?” you asked, smiling at him when he brought you into a sitting position.

    Din laughed lightly; his palms splayed across your back. “You deserve more than that. Especially after what you did tonight.”

    A pang of dread returned; the memory of you holding a gun up to someone more terrifying than you remembered it to be. And he began to kiss your skin as he rubbed at your back, to appease the pain. To try and help you forget again. Just as he wanted to.

    Shifting you, he slid you into his lap, your knees pressing into the bar as he sat straddling it. You had to admit this position was comfortable, but you could feel him hard and ready under you through his jeans. The friction of them rubbing against your already sensitive clit. His lips found yours again, kissing you softly this time, but still holding control over you.

    “So, Romeo,” you whispered, biting into his bottom lip. “You going to fuck me on your bar or what?”

    “No,” he replied. You reared back, staring at him and feeling a bit of shock fill your body, before the annoyance came back at the sight of his grin.

    “You’re an asshole.”

    He laughed, pulling you tighter to him. “You’re going to fuck me sweetheart.”

    Now that sounded appealing. He was going to give you complete control yet again. It wouldn’t last, you knew that. He liked to have you bending to his will, but when you were given control like this, in a position like this, you felt a power rush through you. Slipping your hands off his shoulders, you began to pull at his belt, dipping a hand in to palm him through his underwear. He groaned, head falling onto your shoulder, and teeth sinking into your skin. 

    “Do you like that?” you asked, trying to make your voice as sinfully hot as his was and it seemed to work when he shallowly bucked up into your grip. Tugging on his hair you brought his head back, ghosting your lips over his and continuing your motion. “You want me to ride your cock Din?”

    He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut before opening to reveal the brown you loved to be gone. “Yes,” he breathed out. “Yes, I want it.”

    He wanted to see you break, well you wanted the same from him. Swiping your thumb over his tip you pressed your lips to his but not before saying two words that would leave him desperate for you. Not before pulling his own play against him and causing him to do nothing but beg for you.

    “Good boy.”

    You knew he wouldn’t last long if you continued to rub at him, so you pulled him out of the confines of his jeans and lined him up with your entrance. Din let go of you to let you rise up on your knees, before you were sinking down onto him, the fullness of him having your head fall back. Every time was the same feeling, the same overwhelming soul crushing feeling, and right now you were lost in its pleasure. 

    He leaned down taking a nipple into his mouth, at the same time he bucked his hips up causing you to let out a moan. The indescribable feeling of both pain and pleasure mixed together to create what he was eliciting from you. All of it kept you from both staying on the edge and falling off at the same time. How he managed it you’d never know, but there would be no more time to dwell on what he could do. 

    You were shifting upwards, panting at how he slid along your walls, hearing him let out his own sound when you clenched around him. It intertwined together, the sensations, the sounds of him. It all became too much and not enough at once. Rolling your hips forward you felt him hit a part in you that had stars showing behind your closed eyelids. Din seemed to have felt you tighten around him, and proceeded to help you keep him in place, continually hitting the same spot until you were a whimpering mess. 

    He had taken back the control he so willingly had given you. Now going back to the man who you begged for.

    Look at you sweetheart. Taking my cock like a good girl. You’ll drive me fucking insane one day with how pretty you are. He was talking to you in that low raspy voice that affected you more than the trail of hair that rubbed against your clit with every movement. The words practically dripping with sin, and he didn’t seem to have intention to stop. Murmuring words of how much he’d dreamed of this, of how he touched himself to the thought of this. Grunting out curse words in between whenever he hit another deep spot within you.

    He was slowly tearing you to shreds, inch by inch, with every thrust he made. All of it leaving you to do nothing but just take it, allow him to control the movement of your hips as he tried his best to thrust up into you. Your mouth hung open slightly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he began to rub his thumb against your clit. 

    Din leaned forward, biting down on your earlobe and sucking on it lightly. “I want to see you soak my cock sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

    Was it the words that had you rushing towards another earth-shattering orgasm, or was it the sound of voice whispering them to you in your ear, as he devastatingly thrust one more time into you and pinched your clit at the same time? Either way you could do nothing but let out a scream, sinking down onto him one more time to bury him within you. The hot rush of your release triggering his own, as he bit into your shoulder to muffle the feral sound that came out of him.

    It left you truly unable to do nothing but sag into his hold, panting against his skin and feeling the aftershocks roll through your body with every shallow thrust he made. Your mind felt foggy and dizzy afterwards, trying to focus on him, because now he was saying something else.

    He trailed his fingers lightly up and down your back, pressing kisses to your shoulder. You could still feel him inside you, softening but still causing you to feel full. The comfortable warmth of his embrace let the dizzy sensation build up into a drowsy one and his caresses and kisses weren’t helping in keeping you awake.

    “Romeo,” you mumbled, trying to fight through the pleasurable haze in your mind, because there was still something you had to ask him. He nudged your neck, letting you know he was listening. “Will you be my date to Liv’s wedding?”

    He froze and you figured you just ruined this moment, sent it crumbling with only a few words. “Do I have to dance?”

    You smiled, feeling a different type of pleasure wash over you. “Well I’d like to dance at least once with my boyfriend.”

    Boyfriend. That word held its own kind of power and he shuddered at the sensation. You took his hidden smile and the light nip at your skin to be his answer. Yes. I’ll dance with you. A confirmation that had you soaring and nearly ready to go again, but the shallow thrust he made had you shaking from the aftershocks.

    “So beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. “You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

    Heat rushed to your face at his compliments and you smiled into his shoulder. “I could say the same about you Romeo.”

    He laughed. “I’m definitely not the prettiest thing here.”

    “So, you admit that you’re pretty.” You had him there and you knew it when he paused, before nipping at your neck in retaliation. 

    “Always keeping me on my toes sweetheart.”

    “Mm someone has to.” You pressed a kiss to his jaw, before settling further against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut again. “Don’t want you killing yourself on accident while I’m not here.”

    Din’s breath stuttered. When you’re not here. Those words brought out the ache in his heart he pushed down to survive the days. After what happened tonight, after having to watch you nearly get hurt, he couldn’t bear that thought for a moment. They were the same words he never wanted you to say again, because he’d done the one thing he promised himself he wouldn’t do. Din Djarin had allowed himself to care. He’d opened his heart to you and made space, because you forced him to without knowing. And the thought of you no longer being here, in his bar, with his arms wrapped around you, terrified him to his core.

    Din Djarin had done the one thing he wouldn’t allow himself to do. Something even more terrifying than watching you hold a gun. More terrifying than being helpless as you fought to help him.

    He fell in love. He just had yet to realize it yet.

Black Velvet Masterlist

Masterlist

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#din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #pedro pascal #din djarin #1980s!din djarin #my writing #black velvet

[moonlight-prose]

Hola, bubi! I got two separate requests: "I'm waiting" from the smutty prompts, and "I don't know who you are anymore" from the angsty prompts. Both with 80s Din, por favor. - @walt-breslin​​

A/N: I hope you like it darling! I went wayyyy overboard but it’s fine. As always this is after the Black Velvet series.

Prompt List Two: 20. “I’m waiting.”

Prompt List Three: “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Summary: It wasn’t meant to go this way...and yet it did.

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: 1980s!Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Explicit so ADIOS MINORS, cussing the usual, ANGST literally so much angst that y’all won’t like me for it, a singular slap, din being both a dick and an idiot, p in v sex, fingering, a teeny tiny smidge of dirty talk, FEELINGS, some plot thrown in there for dramatic effect, and mentions of exhibitionism (yes again). let me know if i missed anything!

    His head turned to the side, the echo of your hand slapping against his cheek the only sound in the empty bar. You expected him to face you again, to turn back to you and apologize for the words that left his mouth, but nothing came out. It didn’t help that he was fucking trashed. The smell of whiskey and who knows what else coming off his breath in waves that it made you cringe back.

    “You don’t get to say that me Djarin,” you seethed out, knowing that getting upset with a drunk man who wouldn’t even remember this conversation in the morning was stupid.

    Except you couldn’t get the echo of his words out of your mind. You’re just pissed I left you here like your ex would. The sound of them leaving his mouth so unlike the Din you knew that it left you with a sting in your chest. As if he had decided now would be a good time to cut out your heart.

    “I’m going upstairs,” he said calmly, the drunk look in his eyes having cleared up so quickly it startled you.

    What if he did mean it?

    You don’t think you would be able to handle it if he did.

    The door shut behind him following the sound of him walking around upstairs and yet you still remained there, waiting for some sort of an apology. Anything that would show you that the Romeo you knew, the one you cared for was still beneath the surface. This had to be the alcohol talking. That was it. The only thing that spurred this from happening, except you weren’t sure at this point.

    So, you didn’t bother with confronting him. Didn’t see it was worth your time to beg for an apology. Not when he was the one who had dared to utter those words in the first place. Like your ex. You wanted to throttle that man, preferably with a towel from the very bar he owned. Rather than sticking around and waiting for him to realize how much of an asshole he was being, you grabbed a napkin and a pen, jotting down one line.

    I don’t know who you are anymore.

    You hesitated on grabbing your jacket, knowing that if you took it he’d know you still wanted to be with him. And you did. You really did. But not tonight. So, it remained there on the stool beside the note as you grabbed your purse and left the bar, trying to ignore the sharp twist in your heart.

    The sound of constant knocking had shook you from your sleep, leaving you groggy and disoriented. Who the fuck was at your front door at this hour? You got ready to get up and answer it, but then Liv’s voice hit your ears. She must have come home while you were asleep. Except you weren’t sure how long you had slept for.

    “Just let me see her. Please.” His voice followed causing your chest to tighten until you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

    “No.” The door shut just as you stepped out into the living room, wearing his shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

    The knocking started again, this time lighter, almost as if he was trying to be polite. And as much as you hated it, you smiled at the antics of a man who was used to scaring people. Except this time it was Liv who had scared him, because he wouldn’t be knocking so lightly if she didn’t. You had to hand it to her. She knew how to bring powerful men to their knees.

    “Are you okay?” she asked, seeming to know the situation.

    You nodded, pouring a glass of water for yourself, choosing to stay silent on the matter rather than give her the details of how Din practically tore out your heart. She let you. Doing nothing but grabbing another glass to pour herself water. All the while the knocking continued, happening in random little spurts. Minutes of silence to where you thought he left, where he gave up, and then it would start again.

    “How long has he been doing that?” you asked, staring at the door and feeling your heart call to him. Feel the urge to open the door and face him come over you.

    “Four hours.”

    You turned back to her wide eyed. “Four hours?”

    She nodded. “He showed up fifteen minutes after you came home. I don’t know how you didn’t hear him.”

    Fifteen minutes…

    Which means he had gone after you the second he heard you leave his bar. He’d been here for four hours. You still couldn’t understand how he lasted that long without breaking down the door already. Except then you remembered who this man was. Someone who knew when to back down when a fight became his fault, but still continuing to fight. Just not in his way.

    He was fighting your way, because he knew he was wrong. Knew he fucked up in the biggest way possible.

    “Do you want me to let you handle this?” she asked.

    Could you handle this?

    You knew that he had a power over you, but this was different. This was him knowing he had to apologize until he knew for sure you wouldn’t leave. So you nodded, watching as she moved to grab her jacket and open the front door. You watched him scramble to his feet from where he’d been sitting against the wall opposite the door, his eyes meeting yours almost instantly.

    “Listen to me,” Liv said, dragging his attention to her. “Fuck up again and I’ll kill you. Slowly.”

    He nodded profusely, agreeing so quickly that it made you snort into your glass of water. The sound had him turning back to you, the glimmer of hope in his eyes so prominent it almost had your heart breaking. If he thought he could simply come here and apologize and everything would be okay, then he was sorely mistaken. He doesn’t get to use your ex against you like that. Not when he knew the full story of what happened.

    “Have a good day at work,” you said to Liv, blatantly ignoring the puppy dog eyes Din was trying to pull on you.

    “Have a good day with this charmer.”

    You smiled, watching as she stepped away, leaving just you and him. Setting the glass down you faced him, seeing that he was still standing outside of the apartment, holding the door open with one hand, your jacket in his other hand. So you had scared him with that. You did it once before and remembered how that went.

    “Come in,” you said, psyching yourself up to deal with this.

    He stepped into the apartment almost as if there was an explosive waiting to go off. You had to hand it to him. He knew when to pick his battles and when to be hesitant about diving in right away. Yet the look in his eyes, though pleading, told you that he wasn’t about to give up on you, not after everything you’d been through.

    “Sweetheart,” he began, freezing at the look you gave him.

    “That’s not how this is going to go.” You refilled the glass of water. “You sit and listen. I talk.”

    He nodded, sitting at the kitchen table, jacket strewn across his lap, still being clutched in his hand. You gave him points for that. He wasn’t about to fight you on this, because he knew that he was in the wrong. Knew that he had swam out too far and had to wade his way back to shore before he drowned.

    “I don’t know what the fuck happened to you last night, because the Din that came back wasn’t the Din that left.” You sat across from him, watching his eyes fall to the table. “If you were upset then that’s understandable. But what’s not is throwing my ex back in my face because I was worried about you.”

    He stayed silent, and you allowed him to sit there, processing what you said before you continued. “I just want to know why.”

    “What?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

    “Why did you say it?”

    No response.

    You wanted to scream, but knew that would get you nowhere, knew it would only hurt the both of you more. Except you knew that this, whatever it was, did not get to be destroyed this quickly. That something must have affected him horribly, because the Din you knew wouldn’t have tried to hurt you. He wouldn’t have looked you in the eyes and said this.

    But he had done it before…

    You shuddered at the reminder of that night, choosing instead to look at everything that happened after. Everything that happened before.

    “He was there. At the bar.”

    The breath left your lungs. “What?”

    “Poe and Paz had to practically restrain me so I didn’t kill him.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes and somehow that hurt more than what he was about to tell you, because he was in pain. And you didn’t like that. “The fucker...stopped me on the way out. He told me that I was no better than him. That my record…” his hands clenched into fists. “What I did before I met you sweetheart; that I was going to hurt you one way or another. That I was worse than him, because I actually had blood on my hands.”

    Murder didn’t seem like the right thing to do to your ex.

    Torture was a better option. Maybe you could get Liv to help you out. After all she did marry a cop. Wasn’t that some kind of cover? Shaking yourself out of those thoughts you watched as the man who held your heart, held everything about you in his hands, wiped at his eyes. He stepped towards you, setting the jacket down in front of you and cupping your cheek.

    “It belongs to you,” he whispered. “Not me.”

    Somehow you knew he meant something other than the jacket. Knew that he was talking about his heart. Your eyes shut when he kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch something you needed that it pained you. That it hurt to feel him pull away, whispering I’m sorry before walking out the door.

    He’d fought for you, and knew that the battle was far from over, but also knew that you needed time. Which is why you let him go. You let him walk out, go back to the bar, all the while you still sat at the table, staring at the jacket that had brought you to him, and him to you. More times than you could count.

Two Weeks Later

    The building hadn’t changed.

    Well no actually it looked quite different but you commended that to the changes that were done after what happened. Music spilled out of the open door, a song you recognized as the same one that hilariously played the first time you were here. And just like before, you walked through the doors. Smelled the familiar cigarette smoke mixed with whiskey and knew that you were home.

    “Y/N!” Paz’s voice echoed from the entrance, a girl you’d seen before hanging off his arm. “Thank fuck you’re back. He’s a wreck.”

    “Huh?”

    He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Djarin. I had to drag his ass out of bed this morning. Literally. I think I might have twisted his ankle from grabbing it.”

    You didn’t even bother to stop the surprised laugh, the image of Din being dragged out of his bed something you’d have to remind him of.  “Where is he?”

    “Bar. Although I don’t know if he’s working. Poe’s been running the place for the past two weeks.”

    Oh fuck.

    He wasn’t kidding. Din choosing to let Poe run his bar was a sign that he was indeed...a wreck. You thanked Paz for the information, greeted his girl as she complimented your little black dress and moved on. Trying to reach the man who had occupied your mind for weeks. The sight was a familiarity that you had missed, the sounds, smells, all of it had become so ingrained in your life you finally felt like you could breathe by coming back to it.

    And then he was there.

    Wearing the same Henley as the night you met, a towel in his hand as he wiped down an empty glass. You weren’t sure you could move, but you had to. Had to return home completely, and so you straightened your back, walking as carefully as you could in the heels Liv had lent you. Well more like bought you. The whole outfit was her idea.

    Wear this and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, were her exact words.

    You took the empty stool, placed your small purse on the bar, and waited until he turned. All the while you watched him. Admired the sight of him, and realized how much you fucking missed him.

    “What can I get you?” he asked, turning and freezing at the sight of you.

    You caught the way his eyes glanced down at the jacket you wore, his lips curling up before falling once he realized what you were wearing underneath. Oh you were definitely not walking tomorrow.

    “I’ll take a whiskey. Best you got.”

    He nodded, turning faster than you’ve ever seen him turn to get a drink. While you waited you took notice of how the dark the lines under his eyes were. Had he been sleeping at all? You wouldn’t blame him if he wasn’t. You weren’t doing so well in that area either; tossing and turning all night to try and appease the emptiness of your bed.

    The glass of your favorite whiskey was set in front of you within a minute tops and you raised an eyebrow at him, the smirk you wore on your lips hopefully enough to tempt him. Who were you kidding. You could do nothing but look at him and he was ready to do whatever.

    But tonight you wanted to make him work for it, because while you had forgiven him, you wanted to have the fun game back. The one that had driven both you and him insane enough to practically fuck in front of people that one night. Downing the shot, you set it on the bar, licking the remaining liquid off your lips, before meeting his eyes.

    “Delicious.”

    You could see the look in his eyes. The way his hands were balled up into fists as he leaned against the bar. Almost as if he was trying to stop himself from leaping over it and taking you while you sat on the stool. But then he muttered something that you heard.

    Oh.

    “Romeo?” you asked, already feeling breathless. He hadn’t even fucking touched you yet and you were panting like he’d just had you all night long.

    “Upstairs,” he said, eyes darkening even more if that was possible.

    See now normally you’d go ahead and run up the stairs to get to his bed. But tonight you wanted to push his buttons. This was you choosing not to play fair.

    “I think I’ll have another drink.” You pushed the glass across the bar, leaning forward until he could see the way the dress had pushed up your chest.

    A dangerous game.

    You knew that the minute he flashed you a wolfish smile, his hand wrapping around your wrist to tug you closer. “I have no problem with fucking you right here.”

    “You seem to think that I have a problem with it,” you whispered, smiling at the sound that tore from his throat. “I’m waiting.”

    He let go of your wrist, tossing the towel down and walking around the bar. The look in his eyes, enough to have you clenching around nothing. Poe’s eyes met yours from the other side of the bar where he was serving his friends and you waved. Calling out a hello, before Din’s hand was yanking you to your feet. You were in trouble. Although could you really call it trouble when you both wanted this?

    “Hang on Romeo I can’t run in these heels.” Shit. The stairs. You got ready to trip and fall, but he surprised you. Dragging you to the storage room instead and slamming the door shut with you against it.

    “Two weeks,” he muttered, hands grabbing for the jacket while you tore at his shirt. “I thought you weren’t coming home.”

    You sighed.

    Home.

    You were home. He was your home.

    Gripping his hair you dragged his mouth to yours, nearly collapsing at the feeling of his kiss. Fuck you missed him. You missed this. The hot caress of his tongue against yours; the way his hands dug at any part of you he could get to; the sounds he made as you tugged sharply on his brown locks. Moaning as he sucked your lip into his mouth, teeth digging against the skin and letting it go.

    “I need you inside me,” you gasped out, practically cheering when you got his shirt off.

    “Turn around.”

    You didn’t need to be told twice, turning and placing your palms against the door as he tugged up your dress. The groan that echoed around the room had you smiling. You guessed Liv was right. Apparently he missed you just as much as you missed him. Beautiful, he whispered, hands molding to your hips as he grinded into you. And you felt it. Felt more beautiful than you had in the past two weeks, because when he looked at you...he looked like he was seeing a goddess.

    “Din.” The whine came out unexpectedly, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he was taking his sweet time. The sound of his belt unbuckling and zipper undoing was enough to have you grinding back against him.

    “You have no idea how much I fucking missed you.” His fingers met your clit and you sagged against the door, your palm slapping against the wood. “I used to sit at the bar every night waiting for you to walk through the doors.”

    Two fingers buried inside you to his knuckle causing you to cry out from the sheer bliss at being stretched by him again. “Used to stay awake at night. I can’t sleep without you there sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear. “I need you.”

    “Oh fuck-” Your orgasm took you by surprise. Overwhelming you until you could do nothing but shudder through it, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. He hadn’t even fucked you yet and you were cumming just under three minutes.

    “You needed me too didn’t you?” There was something in his voice that had you clenching tighter around his fingers, your walls fluttering as he pulled them out. Only to lick them clean himself.

    Maybe you nodded. Or said yes. At this point you couldn’t tell, because he was turning you around and hitching your leg around his waist. You were already drunk on him and all he had done was make you cum once. Except it was done so fast that it had left your head spinning. He knew exactly what to do in order to have you crying out his name.

    “You’re home right?” he asked, the question much more than just that. This was him asking if you were staying. If what you were about to do was okay. If you forgave him.

    “I’m home.”

    He kissed you, and this wasn’t fueled by passion alone. This was him relieved; kissing you to reassure himself that you were in fact back. That he wouldn’t have to spend another night alone in his cold bed. You dug your hands into his hair, keeping his lips against yours as he pushed into you, the stretch of him familiar.

    “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled against your lips, as you gasped through him pushing into you until his hips settled against yours. “I was a fucking idiot. An asshole for hurting you like that.”

    “I forgive you.” It came out as a moan when he pulled out, sliding back into you just as quickly in a hurried thrust. Almost like he refused to leave you completely.

    You were already building quickly to your next release, feeling the high start to crest and you could tell he was close too. The weeks away from each other turned to desperation. You met his thrusts the best you could as he grunted out things that had you sighing out his name against the skin of his neck.

    “I need you sweetheart. I always need you.” His thrusts were becoming sloppy, but you didn’t care. Not when he was brushing against your g-spot each time; your toes curling in the heels you wore. “I can’t live without you. I love you.”

    “Oh shit-fuck Din!” Your back arched, head almost slamming against the door if it weren’t for him reaching up and cupping the back of it.

    He growled out a word you didn’t hear, because the roar of pleasure in your ears was too much. You panted out his name, trying to grasp onto reality, but each thrust set you higher until you were crying out again and bearing down on him to a point that his hips stuttered. Your name falling from his lips as he fucked you through both of your orgasms.

    “I love you,” you sighed out. Two weeks. You were almost mad at yourself for making both of you wait this long, but knew that the weeks away were good for you and him.

    You also knew that was complete and utter bullshit that you told yourself to get through it. The truth was, you had wanted to go after him the second he told you what happened. After he told you that your dick of an ex had gotten to him, and made him believe that he wasn’t good enough. If there’s one thing you knew for certain.

    Din Djarin was more than you could have ever asked for out of life. He came into your world, turned it around, and stayed put because you needed each other. Needed one another more than you needed to breathe on some days. And maybe it was overwhelming. Maybe you wanted to kiss him as if you couldn’t do it again on certain days and strangle him on others.

    But that was the point.

    You fit together like two missing puzzle pieces, and sure there were ups and downs. Sure sometimes there were moments in your life where you both made mistakes. But at the end of it all. You’d find one another again, because it had been written in the fucking stars from the very beginning.

    Din Djarin was your final chapter.

    He was your ending and your beginning.

    Just as you were his.

Masterlist

Black Velvet Tags:

@keeper0fthestars​​ @remmyswritings​​  @weirdowithnobeardo​​ @captain-jebi​​ @diogodxlot​​ @mando-amando​​ @fan-of-encouragement​​

Din Djarin Tags:

@queenbbarnes​​ @mrsparknuts​​ @jenrebloggingfics​​  @gracie7209​​ @princess76179​​ @tiffanyblew​​ @northernpunk​​ @thisshipwillsail316​​ @archaeoheart​​ @jaime1110​​ @voteforpedro09​​ @Ladymarinenc @ezrasarm​​ @walt-breslin​​

Permanent Tags:

@pamguini @blondekel77​ @the-purity-pen  @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @mxsamwilson @justanotherblonde23  @autumnleaves1991-blog @greeneyedblondie44 @amelia-song-pond @ladylothlorien

#din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #pedro pascal #din djarin #black velvet #my writing

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱ Masterlist (Update)

It’ s where the first shot was fired, the one that started the Drug War. And after that, none of it would be the same. How could it be?

(Narcos: Mexico)

Pairings :  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Status: work in progress (I have already finished writing this story in the Thai language. Just need to update with translation.)

Summary: Taking down Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the drug lord, is what the CIA, like you, is determined to do, even if it means having sex with him. However, the longer the days go by, the harder it becomes to eliminate him, especially as your feelings towards him start to change.

All Chapters

╰┈➤[Prólogo]ᅳ 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐫 ✟

╰┈➤[1]ᅳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚 ✟

╰┈➤[2]ᅳ 𝐄𝐥 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐛𝐨 ✟

╰┈➤[3]ᅳ 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐫 ✟

╰┈➤[4]ᅳ 𝐎𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫 ✟

╰┈➤[5]ᅳ 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢́𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐨 ✟

╰┈➤[6]ᅳ 𝐋𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐥 ✟

╰┈➤[7]ᅳ 𝐓𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐬 ✟

╰┈➤[8]ᅳ 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐚𝐬 ✟

╰┈➤[9]ᅳ 𝐋𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐨́𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐚 ✟ (Soon)

╰┈➤[10]ᅳ 𝐄𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚 ✟ (Soon)

╰┈➤[11]ᅳ 𝐒𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐫 ✟ (Soon)

╰┈➤[12]ᅳ 𝐌𝐢 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫 ✟ (Soon)

╰┈➤[13]ᅳ 𝐀𝐬𝐢́ 𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 ✟ (Soon)

╰┈➤[14]ᅳ 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐝𝐚 ✟ (Soon)

#narcos: mexico #amado carrillo fuentes #narcos mexico netflix #narcos x reader #amado carrillo fuentes x reader #amado carrillo fuentes x you #narcos fic #narcos mexico fanfic #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos: mexico tv series #walt breslin #walt breslin x you #walt breslin x reader #jose maria yazpik #scoot mcnairy #Renegada♱

[drabbles-mc]

House Special

Walt Breslin x F!Reader

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of International Relations: 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. (The country I chose is Japan!)

Warnings: 18+, language, some angst, deals with the topic of reader taking care of her grandmother

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This story had no business getting as long as it did but oh well. Shout-out to my obaachan for all the little nuggets of inspo. I miss her all the time. Represent all day every day. 😌🇯🇵 (as per usual this is unedited and unbeta'd sksksk)

Narcos Mexico Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @garbinge @narcolini @cositapreciosa @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You told him not to come over, that it wasn’t a good time. Granted, with the way things were you didn’t know if there was ever going to be a good time. The point still stood, though. It was a good point, great one even—if only Walt would’ve fucking listened to it. That was his thing, though, and he was ever consistent about it. There was no talking him out of things once he’d decided to do them, and there was no talking him into things once he’d made up his mind that it wasn’t for him.

So, despite your best efforts to keep things to a phone call, or better yet convince him to not even bother booking a flight with a layover by you, he still told you the time when his plane was going to be landing, and when he was going to show up at your door. At the time you’d made some snide remark, one that you more than earned the right to make, about how all that time went by when you were together and he refused to come and meet your grandmother, but now that you two had been broken up for an amount of time you didn’t want to think about, he was refusing to not stop by. Of course. Fucking Walt.

The cats alerted you to his presence before the knock at the door did. Those two little creatures who seemed to be nearly as old as your grandmother, knew each person as they came and went. They knew the nurses that stopped in so that you could go and get groceries, the neighbors who still stopped over every couple of weeks to drop off some kind of homemade meal or baked good. They especially knew your assistant who stopped by a couple times a week to swap out paperwork—he was their favorite because he always brought some kind of treat for them. But they didn’t know Walt. He wasn’t one of the people on their roster, so they lingered by the door, but far enough away to make a run for it if they didn’t like whoever was coming inside. You wished that you could take off and hide, too.

You took a deep breath as you undid the lock on the door. Pulling it open, you came face-to-face with Walt on your doorstep, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. A smile pulled at your lips out of reflex in direct contrast to all of the conflicting feelings you had about him in that moment.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were way out here,” he said, skipping over stilted greetings.

It put one checkmark in the column of things about him that you were grateful. A tired laugh slipped out of you. “Yeah, it’s a bit of a hike for sure.” You opened the door a little wider and stepped off to the side. “Come on, before the cats try to sneak out.”

He chuckled as he walked in, watching where he was putting his feet because of the aforementioned pets now taking up residence in your house. “Forgot about that part.”

You smiled as you were locking the door. “They’re really not that bad. It’s nice, you know, since I’m actually home to enjoy them now.”

It was a little ironic, and Walt knew it, that your grandmother was how you ended up with two pets. Living on the go working crazy hours meant that you never actually committed to getting any kind of pet—you didn’t think it would be fair to you or whatever animal you ended up bringing home from the shelter. It was on your list of things to do once you settled down, though. Your grandmother, on the other hand, had always said she was adamant about not wanting pets. Claimed she wasn’t an animal person, which you knew was a lie based on the fact that she would leave whatever scraps of food she could outside her back door for the feral cats by her house. Which is how she ended up with the two that were now living in your house with you, and with her. There was no moving her in without also taking the cats. So here you were, all four of you. And now Walt at least for the evening.

He left his boots by the door, and you didn’t miss the amused look on his face as he watched the cats slink out of the shadows to come and inspect them. You watched him watching them for a moment before clearing your throat to regain his attention. You nodded in the direction in the kitchen like he already knew the layout of your house.

“We can talk while I cook.”

He nodded as he followed you through the living room, taking quick stock of it before it led you into the kitchen. “Need help?”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Most help you can give me is sitting right,” you pointed at the small table set up with a couple chairs just out of the work zone area of the kitchen, “there and not touching my stuff.”

He did what you said, even if he was chuckling while he did it. “Missed that.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned the stove on. “Not from what I remember. Besides, even if I wanted you to help,” you plucked your chopsticks up off the counter, clicking them at him a couple times, “you can’t use chopsticks so you can’t.”

“Think they sell a thing called tongs,” he said jokingly.

You scoffed, a grin tugging at your lips. “Why would I waste my money on those when I’ve got so many pairs of these?” You turned back to the stove. “You should’ve learned how to use them.”

“Missed opportunities.” He said it lightly enough, easier to say it about something seemingly inconsequential as chopstick use rather than saying it about anything else having to do with the two of you.

There were a few beats of silence as he watched you pour a splash of oil into the frying pan. You could feel his stare and you didn’t allow yourself to think too much about how it made you feel. What good would it do?

“If you had to pick a day to drop by,” you finally said to break the silence, “this was a pretty good one.”

“Why’s that?” the twinge of amusement in his voice was audible, probably more amused by your statement because he knew you hadn’t wanted him to show up on any day.

“Gyoza and miso soup,” you responded, like you were a waiter at a restaurant. “Twice a week.”

“You sayin’ I should come ba—”

“No,” you cut him off with a chuckle as you started plucking the uncooked dumplings from the counter and placing them into the pan, the sizzle accompanying your simple statement of, “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What if she likes me and wants me to come back? What then?”

You rolled your eyes even though your back was to him. “I doubt that would happen.”

“That’s not what you used to say.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not who she used to be, either,” you replied, weariness creeping into your voice without your permission.

The pause that followed was longer than it should’ve been. Without turning you still knew exactly what the look on Walt’s face was. You were glad for the lack of eye contact. Clearing your throat, you tried to do damage control. “Besides, you think the boys down in Guadalajara were giving you a hard time? She’ll make them seem like choir boys.”

“That where you get it from?” he quipped back without hesitation. Balance restored.

You laughed, nodding. “Had to get it from somewhere.”

Walt drummed his fingertips against the tabletop, not accustomed to sitting still and attempting to just relax in someone else’s home. Least of all your home, although he did that one to himself. “Anything I can…you know…”

His voice had quieted as the sentence went on, and you couldn’t help but to find it the tiniest bit funny. “That what you stopped in for, Breslin? To ask if you can help around the house?” Another pause, another silence that spoke volumes. “What’s up? You look like shit, so something must’ve happened.”

The sound he let out was somewhere between a laugh and a cough, choked by surprise at the blunt shift in conversation. “Shit. Alright.”

“What? I’m being nice. I said you don’t normally look like shit. Only when something happens.”

“Not what you said.”

Back still turned, you gave a dismissive wave with your chopsticks. “Close enough.”

This time you let the pause linger until he was brave enough to break it. “Shit went bad real fast.”

You frowned, an ache in your chest before you even knew what was coming next. “Where?”

“Chiapas.”

You knew better than to expect him to elaborate without being prompted. “What happened?” you asked, giving him the gift of no eye contact as you flipped your dumplings over in the pan.

“Ambush.” He sniffed, not because he was crying but because he was trying to make sure he kept it that way. “Lost a,” he sighed, “a lot of my fuckin’ guys.”

Your head dropped, eyes closing. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” He let out a tired laugh, one that you both knew he didn’t mean but he just didn’t know what else to do. “Only time I was ever glad that you left.”

You knew the sentiment behind what he was saying, but it didn’t stop your knee-jerk reply of, “I didn’t leave.”

You heard the puff of an exhale he let out. He knew his next move was crucial. Red wire or blue wire. The only advantage he had this time around, whether he knew it or not, was that you weren’t going to get loud and risk waking up your grandmother a few rooms over.

“I didn’t—” he stopped himself, knowing that regardless of the explanation the damage was already done.

Finally looking over your shoulder at him, you said, “I’m sorry about your team.”

He gave a tight nod. “Thanks.”

“What now?” you asked as your attention returned to the stove, moving the cooked dumplings from the pan to their own plate.

He shook his head. “I don’t fucking know. Figure out some other way, I guess.”

“You will,” you said with a nod. “Or if you don’t, Sal will. One of the two.”

It got a weak chuckle out of him. “Yeah.”

You wanted to follow up and ask him again what exactly he was looking for from you, what he wanted out of this whole interaction, but in a way you already knew. He was a glutton for punishment—always had been. Losing his team wasn’t enough, he wanted to remind himself of all the other stuff he lost too. Ultimate Misery Tour, headliner Walt Breslin. Normally you’d try to snap him out of it, but you were tired too. Different kind of tired from a different kind of work, but still tired. You knew Walt could see that in you too.

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not unbearably so. It wasn’t a uncomfortable as it could’ve been, as it probably should’ve been. You moved onto the next part of the routine. Making the soup wasn’t going to take very long. If there was one thing about your grandmother, it was that every recipe she used on a regular basis could be completed, top to bottom, in twenty minutes or less. She never had the patience for anything else.

While you were waiting for it to finish, you grabbed one of the dumplings off the plate and placed it on a paper towel before stepping over and handing it to Walt. No words were exchanged as he took it, just offering a nod in thanks, which you returned before going back to the stove again. You heard the quiet chuckle he let out a few moments later, and you smiled. Good food couldn’t fix everything but in the moment it was about all you had to offer.

“Alright,” you finally spoke up again when the soup was done, “I’m gonna go get her.” You pointed at him. “Best behavior.”

He smiled, clasping his hands on top of the table. “Always.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh as you walked by. “Fuck off.”

He listened as you walked out of the kitchen and into some distant part of the house that he’d never seen, probably never would. He strained his ear to see if he could catch any snippets of conversation, but came up with nothing. He glanced around the kitchen, looking at the art that was up on the far wall, away from the stove and the sink and any potential messes. The pieces weren’t framed, just tacked up to the wall. He knew you weren’t much into art, at least no into making it. He wondered if the paintings had been done by your grandmother. He was sure at some point or another you’d told him the name of the art style. Another on the long list of things that he should’ve paid more attention to while he had you.

It wasn’t long until the two of you came walking into the kitchen. Walt’s entire expression softened at the sight of the two of you. Your grandmother was still able to walk with relative ease as long as she had your arm to hold onto. She was small, hardly even coming up to your shoulder, and looked even smaller because of the large sweater that she was wearing.

Her expression didn’t match Walt’s as she looked at him skeptically. You chuckled and shook your head. You rested your hand on hers as you facilitated the introduction. “Obaachan, this is Walt. We used to work together.”

He gave a small wave. “Nice to meet you.”

She nodded slightly as she looked him over. You watched as she studied his face, knowing exactly what she was going to say before she said it. “You like this?” she asked him, touching the side of her own face.

Walt tilted his head as he processed what she was saying. You couldn’t help your laughter as you answered on his behalf. “I told you, some guys just like their facial hair.”

He laughed then, a real laugh for once. He shrugged as he nodded in agreement with your statement. “Just easier to let it grow.”

She shook her head slightly as she continued on towards the counter where the food was. “You could be so handsome if—”

“Obaachan,” you chastised with a laugh. Shaking your head, you asked her, “You wanna eat out here with us? Or in your room?”

She gestured to herself. “My room.”

You smiled, figuring that was going to be the answer. “You got it. C’mon.”

You helped her get her meal together, carrying it for her as you started the return trip to her room. As the two of you were walking past Walt, you thought that she might offer him some sort of a goodbye, perhaps more unsolicited commentary about his stubble. Instead, she took one of the dumplings on her plate and set it on the paper towel that was still in front of him.

“Eat—you need it.”

You tried to contain your laughter and failed, the sound coming out more like a sputter than anything. It got a smile out of Walt too as he nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

You nodded back towards everything. “Help yourself—I’ll be right back.”

You were still smiling and shaking your head over the entire thing when you walked back into the kitchen. Walt was just setting your plate and his on the table when you walked in, so you made yourself busy grabbing a drink for each of you. You never kept much alcohol in the house, so he was just going to have to make due with water for the time being. He probably needed that too.

“So,” he said as you both sat down, “she doesn’t like facial hair, huh?”

You burst out laughing. Shaking your head, you said, “What would give you that impression?” You reined in your laughter enough to say, “She never has. When my cousins started growing theirs out she would tell them all the time to shave it. Relentless.”

“Least it’s with everyone,” he said, almost like an offer.

You nodded. “That’s true.”

“It’s good that she has you.” He made it sound like he was admitting something, like up until now he was still on the fence about the legitimacy of you leaving. Maybe he really had to see it with his own two eyes.

“Took her awhile to admit that,” you said, remembering what a fight it was at first, with her, with Walt, with damn near everyone. “But she’s come around. All goes full-circle, you know? She used to be the one feeding me all the time.” You chuckled a you thought about it. “We’d be running around her house and she would reach out, stop us, cup our face and just put food in our mouths with her chopsticks. Didn’t matter what it was—rice, gyoza, tempura. If she could pick it up with chopsticks we were getting fed on the go.”

“At least you don’t have to chase her down and do that,” he said with a shake of his head.

“This is true. I’m much faster than her.” You were about to start eating when you realized that Walt hadn’t grabbed silverware. You hummed in amusement. “I’ll get you a fork for the rice and everything.”

“Not gonna make me struggle with your chopsticks?” he joked.

You grabbed a fork from the drawer and tossed it to him. “We’re both struggling enough. Eat your food before my grandmother comes out and force-feeds you the way she used to do with us.”

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes as you started to eat. Maybe Walt had more to say before all of that, things he wanted to ask, arguments he wanted to get into. Maybe you’d get into it all when you were done eating. Or, maybe, he’d let the rest of it lie—it wasn’t as though there was much you could do for each other at this point anyway, aside from sharing a meal together, the cats just beginning to creep their way into the kitchen.

#narcoctober #day of international relations #walt breslin #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #nmx #narcos mexico fanfiction #nmx fanfiction #x reader #x reader fic #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin x you #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[ashlingnarcos]

THE DEAL

a narcos tv fandom sideblog, reblogs from ashlingiswriting

you can call me Ashling, she/her

askbox is open ;)

join the narcos fandom forever chat! (discord invite, our tumblr)

READERFIC

no witness // Walt Breslin/Reader, 2.4k, on tumblr

he keeps his rules. you keep him. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, 1.1k, on tumblr, on AO3

blood on vacation // David Barrón/Reader, 1.8k, on tumblr

blood, horses, postponed // Andrea Nuñez/Reader, ficlet on AO3

play the refrain // Hector “Güero” Palma x Reader, 5k, on tumblr, on AO3

take it // Javier Peña/Reader, 2.1k, on tumblr, on AO3

Bride’s Choice // Benjamín Arellano Félix/Reader, ficlet on tumblr

sequel: Bride’s Delight // Benjamín/Reader, 2k on tumblr

open gate // Javier Peña/Reader, 5.1k, on tumblr, on AO3

cauterize. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, 3.6k, chapter one on AO3, on tumblr

I’ll come back for you // Benjamín Arellano Félix/Reader, ramble turned to fic, on tumblr

last rites. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, 4.8k, on AO3, on tumblr

he is not dead. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, ficlet, on AO3, on tumblr

The Dancer // Narcojuniors/F!Reader, Benjamín & Reader, 1.8k, on AO3, on tumblr

Dinamita // Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada/F!reader, 2.2k, on tumblr

North Star // Enedina Arellano Félix/Reader, 1.3k, on AO3, on tumblr

FANFIC

two tests // Carrillo & Trujillo & Calderoni crossover ficlet

what we do now // Feistl x Van Ness post-canon ficlet

self-elegy of the latehomecomer // David Barrón character study, 1k, on AO3

survivor’s forgiveness // César Gaviria/Eduardo Sandoval angst, 1.3k, on AO3, on tumblr

portrait of hunter in exile. // Horacio Carrillo character study, 2.1k, on AO3, on tumblr

Unfinished Business // Enedina Arellano Félix/Isabella Bautista infidelity and under-negotiated kink, 3.7k, on AO3

not right/not enough // Horacio Carrillo/Javier Peña, ficlet, on AO3, on tumblr

one shell casing // Güero & Chapo angst, 1.4k, on AO3, on tumblr

you’re sharp all right // Walt character study, 1k, on AO3

RANDOM

Meta

Incorrect Narcos: Mexico Quotes

a softer Narcos

Who’s Your Narcos Mexico Match (short version) // on uQuiz

THE DRUG WAR

I used to only have a link to NORML here in favor of weed decriminalization, but tbh the real life drug war is beyond complicated and I feel ridiculous talking policy on a fandom blog. Let’s not do that. This is not real life, this is me watching footage of Alberto Guerra smirking at Mayra Hermosillo.

#narcos mexico #narcos #narcos netflix #about #pinned post #about me #standard disclaimer: these are all fictional things about a television show #the real people involved can honestly all go fuck themselves #but the characters are fun and i'm here to have a good time (and yknow. cry.) #narcos mexico fanfiction #fanfiction

[mitchi-c]

Insatiable

Pairing: AFAB!Reader x Western Din Djarin

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 900

Warnings: Sexual content, oral sex, fingering.

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this so please go easy on me. A continuation off of this drabble, hope you enjoy

------

Din lets out a groan as he sinks into the warm water, leaning his head back against the edge. He had just finished bringing in the water, insisting he could do it himself. You couldn’t help but watch him, all of his skin on display for you to see. His eyes close and he lets out a hum as he gets used to the water.

His eyes open after a while, catching you in your staring act. “Would you like to join me?” He smirks, pushing his hair back from his face.

You pull a stool up beside him and sit down, picking up the small rag you had set beside the tub. “No way am I getting in that water Djarin. Now lean forward.” He does as you ask and you bring the rag up to his neck and ears, washing away the dirt from his trip. You begin washing his hair, smiling at the way his eyes close under your touch.

You lean over to kiss him once you finish and he sighs against your lips. His hand raises to the back of your neck, keeping you close for a bit longer. Pulling away, you continue to run the cloth over his arms and chest. No complaints are given while you gently massage his arms as you go, Din only ever interrupting you with a quiet groan when you locate a particularly tense muscle.

Din takes the cloth from your hand and finishes washing up. You absentmindedly twist the ends of his curls around a finger, watching the slight bounce when you released them. Not too long has passed when Din wrings out the cloth and hangs it on the edge. He gives you one more kiss before getting out of the water.

He quickly dries off, noticing your appreciative gaze as you admire him. His jeans are pulled back on, buttons left undone, allowing you to see the few curls adorning his stomach.

He places a finger under your chin and raises your gaze up to him and leans down for a kiss. Telling you to leave the tub for the night, he pulls you up from the stool and begins walking to your room.

He stops in front of your bed and turns around to face you. “May I?” He asks, hands coming up to run over your clothing. You nod and begin to help him with the process. He’s slow and careful as he removes your clothing, hands brushing over newly exposed skin, lips following soon after. A laugh escapes you as he kisses up from your breastbone to your lips, before teasingly rubbing his stubble against your cheek.

You quickly push his face away, your laugh turning into a quiet chuckle as he kisses your fingers. Din takes a moment to look at you once he’s done, admiring all you have to offer. You nudge him towards the bed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your face and spreading throughout your body.

Din takes off his pants before getting in bed beside you. Kisses are placed over your shoulder and up to your lips. Although beginning slowly, the kiss soon turns heated and Din shifts over top of you.

Breaking away from the kiss you are met with brown eyes staring back. “You’re insatiable,” you whisper, leaning up to his lips. He trails down your neck, gently nipping your sensitive spots before soothing them with his tongue.

Cupping one breast in his hand, his thumb brushing over your nipple, you gasp as he takes the other into his mouth. Tongue running over the bud as he pulls away before repeating his actions on the other one.

Din pulls away and continues on his path downwards. Large hands trail over your thighs, moving them apart as he places himself between your legs. You try to keep your moan in when his hands begin running over your legs, getting achingly close to the area you want him most.

The idea of withholding your sounds soon seems like a poor choice as his thumb brushes over your folds. Din lets out a groan as he watches your reaction, pussy clenching around nothing. “Fuck-“ he chokes out, laying down between your open legs.

“Din, fuck. Please,” you plead at the feeling of his breath on you. The only word to describe his indulgence is euphoric. One arm holding you down, the other hand spreading your folds, Din licks into you like a man starved. It has been so long since he last touched you and you could already feel your climax building.

Tangling your hand in his curls, Din moans against you as your grip tightens on his hair. Two of his fingers are eased into you and Din begins to suck eagerly on your clit. The combination of his fingers hitting that perfect spot inside of you and the feeling of his mouth sends you over the edge.

It takes you pushing him away for Din to stop, reluctantly pulling back and looking up at you with a smirk. His lips and chin are wet with your juices as he comes up to meet you in another kiss. You moan at the taste of yourself and Din chuckles as you pull him back in for another kiss. You reach down and take him in your hand, smiling at the sound he makes, “Now let me take care of you.”

------

Taglist:

@oloreaa @walt-breslin @agirllovespancakes @queenbbarnes @mrsparknuts @over300books @spideysimpossiblegirl @leonieb

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #michaela writes #I'm just gonna post this and run

[cregan-starks]

M A S T E R L I S T

Narcos & Narcos: Mexico

House of the Dragon

#tori's masterlist #tori's beholden #tori’s flames of deceit #narcos #narcos: mexico #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #walt breslin #walt breslin x oc #walt breslin/oc #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin/reader #javier peña x reader #javier Peña x oc #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen/oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen/reader #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark/oc #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark/reader