#Renegada♱

[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

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[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♱

[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♱

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

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

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

Synopsis:You find that what is even more challenging than your missions or dealing with the big drug dealer is having to cope with your feelings for Walt, which seem to grow stronger every day.

AN : This episode for those who love Walt, Lol. I believe many people are charmed by Walt, just like me. So, I would like to dedicate this episode to all the Walt fan club (of course, I haven't revealed who the Male Lead is yet, so let's all guess together whether it's Walt or Amado that will win the reader's heart).

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

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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[2]ᅳ 𝐄𝐥 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐛𝐨 ✟

Mexico City, Mexico

1300 (Military Time)

"So, tell me, how did you manage to survive Amado?" That was the question that everyone in the DEA office had been dying to know, but only You and Julio knew all the details.

You weren't surprised at all when you saw many faces peeking at you through their office desks with curiosity. As soon as you stepped out of your boss's office after reporting the progress of your undercover mission in Cuba, You felt all eyes on you. And the first person brave enough to ask you directly was Bill Carter, a DEA Agent who had a mischievous glint in his eye and was waiting for you in the office kitchen with a cup of hot coffee for you. He wasn't doing it out of kindness, but because he was nosy.

You took the coffee and two donuts from a large box left on the white table and started eating them hungrily. You almost forgot that you hadn't eaten anything substantial since coming back to Mexico.

These people wouldn't let you catch a break, but you found Bill's curiosity amusing, and you glanced at him while munching on a donut. He seemed eager to hear the story you were about to tell, and you felt like teasing him a little. "You want to know so badly, huh?"

"Sure, nobody else got as close as you did," Bill said, and although he had a bright smile on his face, You could sense the worry hidden behind it. "He didn't do anything to you, right?"

At least Bill's questions were more cautious than Julio's. You recalled the straightforward question from their honcho earlier: "You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

"At least almost" was what you replied to both Bill and Julio.

You wondered if there should be more to it. You had been thinking about it since you saw the fiery look in Amado's eyes. Of course, this man was like a supernova, surrounded by beautiful models waiting in bed for him with a snap of his fingers. So It surprised you that he didn't take you back with him that night, even though you knew he wanted to.

But no, he didn't. He didn't take you with him; he just asked to walk you back to your fake apartment, and it turned out to be quite an odd experience for you as a CIA agent. You had to hold hands and walk side by side with a drug dealer on a street late at night in Cuba, engaging in meaningless conversations completely unrelated to drugs and the missions you carried on your shoulders.

Amado was an excellent and fascinating conversationalist. He shared various stories about himself, none of which were mentioned in his official file. From his personal life (growing up in a large, impoverished family with more than ten siblings, getting married once and divorced), to his hobbies (passionate about flying planes to the extent of considering joining the Navy due to his love for Top Gun movies), and sometimes he would play quirky jokes that made you burst into laughter. Everything Amado did seemed natural, sincere, and charming, without any pretenses, which was different from how you were acting towards him.

It was only for a moment that you inadvertently thought of yourself as an ordinary woman, and the person beside you was just an ordinary man as well. But you would never be just an ordinary person, And Amado would too.

That was all that happened that night—almost. The strange and intense feelings lingered when you and he stood in front of the old wooden door, both sides stealing glances at each other in the midst of an awkward silence. While considering some thoughts in your head, you finally decided to lightly kiss his cheek before bidding a gentle farewell.

And he didn't touch you any more than that when you showed you didn't want it.

"I want to see you again next time," Amado said. But you secretly hoped you wouldn't meet him again, no matter where or when.

You sipped the hot black coffee, almost choking, when a fit of coughing sent the coffee splattering all over. Bill, flustered, quickly grabbed a tissue to hand over to you. "Hey, take it easy. Where do you need to hurry off to?"

"Sorry," you smiled sheepishly, wiping the coffee stains off your shirt and your mouth. "But that's it. Now we know for sure that Amado and the Cali Cartel are teaming up, which means there might be another major cocaine shipment coming into the U.S. The border will probably have some heavy work to do."

"A new Pablo is born," he sighed.

"Not really. Amado is different from Pablo. Pablo was reckless, but Amado is smart. He does things that neither Pablo nor Miguel would do."

Bill raised an eyebrow, considering your words and expression. He could tell that something was on your mind, but he didn't push any further. "I won't judge you for whether what you're doing is right or wrong, but I want you to know that you're playing with fire, literally. and make some people worry so much."

"What do you mean?" you asked casually, already knowing the answer.

"Walt is almost ready to fight Julio because that idiot thinks you might be in danger. And I don't blame him because I probably would have done the same if my partner did something foolish like getting involved with danger like that," he said, emphasizing the words ‘my partner’ His eyes glinted mischievously. You felt a surge of annoyance and wanted to push his face away.

"He's not my partner. The CIA doesn't have partners."

"But not for the DEA. Here, we work as a team. We all have each other's backs, whether you like it or not," Bill said, tossing the coffee cup accurately into the nearby trash bin before turning back to look at you. This time, his expression was more serious than before as he placed his hand gently on your shoulder.

"Remember that you're not alone," he said.

Bill's remark still lingered in your mind as you returned to your apartment. You opened the bathroom door and turned on the shower forcefully before letting the cold water flow through your dark brown hair and down your face. It felt like washing away the heavy burden that couldn't be seen, but you knew it was there, attached to you like a ghost.

"You're leading yourself into danger." That's what the CIA boss warned you about when you returned from Saudi Arabia, three years after his death. And suddenly, you felt a pang of remorse. toward Bill, Walt, and him.

Every mission you've ever done has always been a solo operation, and you've become accustomed to relying on yourself. You always built walls to keep everyone out For one reason only: you didn't want anyone else risking their lives for you, like something that happened to you in the past.

Raymond was right: "You're leading yourself into danger." At least you wanted to be sure that you were the only one who had to face the consequences.

You still closed your eyes, and in the darkness of your mind, you heard screams, explosions, and gunfire echoing from the depths of your soul. You didn't want the tragedy that happened in Saudi Arabia to repeat itself in Mexico.

A knocking sound grew louder as you had just finished taking a shower and dressing up. You tossed the hair towel on the hanger before walking to the white front door. Through the peephole, you saw Walt standing outside. You hesitated for a moment, thinking about what Bill had told you earlier about Walt almost fighting Julio because he was worried about you.

You weren't sure if Walt was still upset about it, and you weren't certain if you could handle arguments from him. But the truth was, you liked that Walt cared about you, and you couldn't deny the deep desire to see his face without any special reason.

Finally, you reached out and opened the door. There he was, dressed in a red plaid shirt and dark jeans, almost like his usual uniform. The only missing element was the black glasses that he had tucked away in his left chest pocket. Walt had one hand carrying multiple beers. bottles, and the other held a bag with the name of a popular restaurant in Mexico City. His face showed a hint of fatigue, but he managed a half-hearted smile as he greeted you.

"I guess you probably haven't had dinner yet; so I brought some taquitos for you," Walt said, breaking the ice. 

In the end, there was no arguing like you had anticipated. You both sat together on the blue leather sofa, enjoying tacos and beer as the television played a popular telenovela, creating background noise to keep things from getting too quiet. And certainly, no one was interested in watching silly soap operas at all. You absentmindedly fiddled with a beer bottle, trying to steal glances at Walt without him noticing.

But Walt always knew. He smiled slightly as your eyes met for a moment.

"You seem tired lately," Walt started to bring up the topic, "Maybe you should take a break, like two or three days off."

It was his intention for today to check on you and make sure you are alright after the risky mission you just went through.

You smiled back, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "I'll rest when you rest."

Walt's pros were his concern for others, but his cons were that he never included himself in that. If you worked hard, Walt worked just as hard. He was always the first one to arrive at the office every day and the last one to leave. Of course, he never took a break or leaving early

You and Walt are alike in this aspect. There was no way both of you would willingly stop and take a break.

Walt looked at you, chuckling softly at your answer that he had anticipated. "I could never defeat you, could I?"

"It's quite an honor for me to be able to outmatch a brave man like you, who even challenges every single person, including your boss."

His face under the mustache changes almost instantly, looking embarrassed like a child caught doing something wrong. Walt opened his mouth as if he was about to defend himself, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"I don't mean anything against you. Sometimes I just want to punch my coworkers too." You leaned back on the sofa and crossed your legs, making sure through your gaze that he wasn't feeling upset about the matter. You then reached out and lightly tapped his arm.

"But I don't want you to have problems at work," you added.

"It won't be a problem if you stick to the original plan," Walt argued, his voice more serious than before. "What you're doing outside of the orders is too dangerous. You could get killed."

"This is our work. We know well about the risk," you replied. 

The truth is hitting harder than ever. Even Walt couldn't argue against that. Mexico was a city of sin, where death was almost ordinary and could be found around every corner, whether it was for officers, criminals, or innocent bystanders. Every day as a DEA agent, he witnessed numerous losses, and sometimes he had to be the one to break the devastating news to the families or loved ones of his coworkers who were suddenly gone. and he couldn't help but wonder when it would be his turn.

"I know," Walt said softly, surprisingly vulnerable. "But I don't want you to die."

For a fleeting moment, it was you who couldn't argue anymore.

Silence filled the air as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, seeing the confusion, concern, and turmoil hidden within them. And sometimes, you felt like he could see the same in you.

At that moment, for a brief second, you thought you could just kiss him right then and there.

In the end, you chose to look away, deciding not to cross the line that could lead to regrettable consequences later on. You handled the remaining beer, letting its warmth flow down your throat, before exhaling a long breath while staring at the yellow wall in your room.

"Do you think we can do it?" You mumbled, unsure. "Can we catch him?"

Walt didn't answer immediately. He pondered in the silence for a while before finally sliding his hand to firmly grasp your hand.

"We can do it. Trust me," he said, his determination clear.

Even though you warned yourself not to look into his eyes again, the desire from the depths of your heart still won. In the end, you turned back to meet Walt's gaze once more.

Amidst the seemingly long silence that lasted only a few minutes, neither of you uttered a word. It was as if even a slight disturbance could destroy something that was quietly and delicately taking shape. You could feel the thumb from the large hand gently caressing the inside of your palm, warm and tender. Once again, you found yourself sinking into thoughts of wanting to pull him in for a kiss, but you weren't sure if he felt the same way.

Ironically, being a CIA agent taught you to read the thoughts of others as a profession, and you could do it with everyone. But now, you couldn't read the thoughts of the man right in front of you, not even the slightest bit.

"I think I should go now." 

Walt was the one who disrupted the quietness, clearing his throat before removing his hand from yours and standing up to his full height. Yet the warmth still lingered in your hand, and you felt disappointed with how it all ended. Nonetheless, you composed yourself gracefully, pausing briefly before walking him to the front door and bidding him a polite goodnight, as you should.

Whatever happened in Cuba has rewound in your mind again. It was just a change of characters, from Amado to Walt, but everything seemed almost the same. The strange sensation of standing by the door and looking into each other, lost in deep thoughts, hiding something within, until one person started saying farewell and the other walked away into the darkness

Although a part of you wanted to beg him to stay, in the end, you could only watch the back of Walt walking away until it vanished from your sight.

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

[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 : Walt did everything he could to eliminate drug traffickers without realizing that ultimately, his actions were causing him to lose you forever.

AN: There're angst everywhere Lol. Get ready to be hurt

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[6]ᅳ 𝐋𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐥 ✟

The loud 'Bang' jolted you back to reality, back to the awareness of what you were and what this man was. He might be charming, he might be funny, he might be romantic, but Amado Carrillo Fuentes is a drug lord. He is your target, America's target, Mexico's target, and and the target of other drug trafficking gangs whose aim is to see him dead.

They know Amado is hiding here too. And they didn't want him to come back to Mexico.

Armed groups in tourist outfits reveal themselves amidst the growing chaos. They all aim straight for Amado, but they don't care about other lives.  Innocent people unintentionally caught in the crossfire are ruthlessly eliminated,  bodies scattered on the streets like fallen leaves.

The music is drowned out by the gunfire, laughter turns into screams, and in the blink of an eye, tranquility turns into hell on earth.

You're stiff; you should do something to stop it. You think you could if you had a gun with you, but the bad thing is you didn't bring one because you foolishly thought a regular musician shouldn't have a gun to be suspected by Amado, and you were confident you could handle everything well without weapons.

And you're wrong. It's your fault.

Amado yanked you up, dragging you along as he turned back to shoot at the killers chasing him from a distance. For a split second, you imagine pushing him away and escaping alone. Because these people only cared about getting Amado's life, not yours. His death might be a good thing; at least one of the drug lords would be gone. The crazy mission, and everything could finally end.

You should let him die. It would be much easier if Amado chose the same. But this man is now trying to protect you, even though he's been in danger. Yet, those big hands refuse to let go of yours, not even for a second.

You grit your teeth, eyes staring intensely at his hand holding yours firmly. No matter how much you want to reject, somehow you are a part of this fate. Throughout the time that has passed, you have lost and failed to save everyone. let many people die in front of you without being able to do anything. And you can't bear to feel guilty from failure any more, at least not for this time.

In this moment of imminent death,The CIA Agent finally makes the decision that you can't let Amado die.

All of this is for the mission. That's what you try to insist to yourself. In the moment when one of the assassins aims at Amado without him noticing, in the moment when you decide to push him out of the bullet's range, in the moment when you get shot by that bullet yourself.

The chaos still swirls around you, things flashing before your eyes too fast to make out what they are. Everything seems like mere illusions to you. There's nothing clear except the searing pain akin to flames burning inside your abdomen. You slide down onto the pavement, hands clutching your blood-soaked abdomen tightly, the sound of yelling ringing in your ears. It's Amado's voice, but you can't make out what he's saying. All you can do is raise your head to look at him, seeing the shock reflected in those wide-open eyes and your blood smeared on his face.

What went wrong? Your final suspicion is devoid of any clear answers.

Was it an unexpected reaction to the situation? Or the foolish intention to take the bullet instead of the man who deserved to die?

There's nothing funny about it at all. Yet, you let out a light chuckle, mocking yourself, realizing that this might be the end for you—shot foolishly on the roadside, another failure. But at least, there will be no more loss to bear except for your own life.

Perhaps it's a fitting end for someone like you.

You took another glance at Amado, the smile still lingering on your face until unconsciousness envelops every part of your body and fades away in the blink of an eye.

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Walt never knew when to stop. That was always the problem.

Like a relentless machine, he never took a break, working tirelessly until either the energy ran out or the machinery broke into pieces. Even though he knew it was slowly destroying himself, he chose to keep going until he got what he wanted, or died trying, or worse — had to get his hands dirty and kill someone to get what he wanted.

The hands of the DEA agent were covered in bruises and blood, the throbbing pain clinging to every bone forcing him to slightly adjust his grip.He wiped off someone else's blood onto a dirty handkerchief lying on the floor before looked up at the young man tied tightly to the chair.His face and bare body bore only the traces of severe abuse inflicted by his own hands. 

"Alex Aragón," Walt slowly uttered the name, studying the almost unconscious response from the boy, who seemed barely aware of his surroundings. 

He's still so young, looked like he had just emerged from adolescence not long ago. the pampered, harmless rich kid unless you knew that this guy wwasone of the high-ranking members of the Arellano drug cartel,who just apprehended three days ago.

"If you want to see your parents again, you better tell me right now where Ramón Arellano Félix, your buddy, is and what he's planning," Walt held the cigarette in his mouth before turning his gaze to Diego and the two Mexican cops standing solemnly in the same room. "My Mexican friends here aren't as friendly as I am, and I won't hesitate to hand you over to them if you don't talk to me."

"But...but I'm American!" the young man rushed to say. "I was born in America, I have American citizenship. You can't do this to an American! If anyone finds out, you'll be in serious trouble!"

"So what? Do you think America cares about a bunch of drug dealers like you?"

He lied. When it came to America's image in the eyes of the world, those at the top of politics did care.

But America was also adept at covering up its own dirty scandals.

And if America was good at covering up scandals, Mexico was even better at making them. So, Walt decided to leave the task of tormenting duties to the Mexican police, as he had said earlier.

Walt walked out of the interrogation room to smoke a cigarette, listening to the echoing screams echo with an expression of indifference, devoid of emotions. It was just another ordinary day in his line of work. There is nothing to feel bad about when dealing with someone who deserves to die.

Not long after, Walt remembered that he had only taken a few puffs of smoke when the heavy metal door of the interrogation room was suddenly opened. He saw Diego stepping out with a strangely alert demeanor.

Walt furrowed his brows, quickly flicking away the cigarette that wasn't finished. He didn't feel too good hearing what Diego said, "That bastard finally talked, but it wasn't about Ramón."

"And what did he say?"

Diego hesitated, feeling conflicted. He wasn't sure if he should directly discuss this with Walt. But in the end, he decided to speak up.

"He mentioned an assassination against Amado Carrillo Fuentes."

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The two junior officers in Policía Ciudad de México(The Mexico City Police) were taken aback when an American DEA agent suddenly burst into the room with a look as if he wanted to physically harm someone. Julio, who was seated at his regular desk, looked up for a moment. His expression didn't change much upon seeing Walt. The boss exhaled deeply before waving his hand to dismiss the other officers, leaving just the two of them in the room.

"Ramón Arellano sent assassins to kill Amado on Aruba Island. We need to hurry to help Y/N, she's in danger," the DEA agent exclaimed.

"I already know about it," Julio responded with an unchanged expression. "Netherlands embassy just reported about a Mexican drug cartel incident in the tourist area of the island. The bodies were sent back to Mexico this morning."

Walt sighed lightly, both surprised and irritated by the calmness of his superior. "So, what now? You know about this, yet you're not going to do anything?"

"Calm down. We've checked everything. We didn't find any bodies matching Amado's or Y/N's description. It's highly possible they're still alive."

"Then we need to hurry and help her. We don't know if there are still Arellano's men left on the island. This mission is too risky for Y/N. We need to abort."

"You'll have to talk to America yourself then, Agent Breslin." Julio's tone grew more serious. "Y/N is a CIA agent. Mexico has no part in this."

Walt's face turned pale. It was a feeling when hit by what's called 'Reality'. A reality that Walt hadn't fully grasped until now.

Mexico wouldn't extend a helping hand in this matter, and neither would America. The covert mission regarding Amado is an elite secret known only to a few. Even the Netherlands isn't aware of the CIA's unauthorized incursion into their country. If this mission were to be exposed, it would severely damage trust and international relations.

So, whatever happens to Y/N during this mission should not be linked back to America. They won't hesitate to abandon her immediately. This means she could end up in a state of disappearance without an identity or even a grave to bury.

Does You know about this before deciding to go there? Walt started to doubt. He looked back at Julio's face, seeing him nod slowly, as if already knowing what he was thinking.

"It's her profession. She knows well about the risks, and she's chosen it herself."

A dry chuckle escaped Walt's throat, sounding sarcastic and bitter at the same time. The American officer sank heavily into the chair, hands raised to hold his head, exhaling softly. There was no trace of anger or resentment, not a single word spoken.

Julio laid the documents in his hands on the table. He looked straight at the man opposite.

"Remember the conversation in Cuba? When you were furious because you were worried about her, I told you to trust in her," Julio said with a smile. "I know you're tired of hearing this, but this time I want you to continue to trust her, as long as there's hope. Anything is possible."

"That sounds more like self-consolation than the truth."

"This world is cruel. Sometimes, we get by just by consoling ourselves."

Walt closed his eyes briefly. There were only a few times he showed vulnerability to others beyond his usual demeanor of anger and unfriendliness. "If I knew it would turn out like this, I should say something to her."

He had been thinking about his feelings for you—something more than just a coworker. Every time they locked eyes, shared cigarettes, talked about trivial matters, and laughed together over nonsense, it all seemed clear. He has known it. But he chose to overlook it. Because his job was filled with blood and death every day. There's no space for romance and for a heart that has to bear the pain of sorrow and a painful past.

But the decision to remain indifferent to the feelings in his heart only makes him feel even more sorrowful today.

If on that day he had hugged you tight, if he had asked you not to go to Aruba, if he had decided to tell you how he truly felt, maybe the story could have ended differently. And sometimes, you might have felt the same too.

It's pointless to dwell on things that can never happen again.

The silence persisted until Walt stood up again. He pursed his lips, looking as if he wanted to quickly leave the room. However, Julio stopped him first. "Where are you going, Agent Breslin?"

"I'm just going back to the interrogation room," the DEA replied calmly. But Julio saw the clear anger and darkness in his eyes. "If anything happens to Y/N, I'll make sure they're all going to pay for it."

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#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♱

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

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

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

Synopsis: You have to take on the role of a musician to infiltrate a restaurant filled with high-level international drug dealers.There, you meet Amado as expected, However, it seems that everything is not going according to the plan anymore.

AN : Just in case you're wondering, in this story, Pacho is the same person as in El Paraiso de las Pandillas. I imagine him as bisexual. (Please don't attack me; it's just my imagination and has no relevance to real individuals.)

I used to think that I wouldn't continue this fanfic, but because there are still people waiting to read it, I thought I would give it another try. However, if it doesn't really work out, I probably won't update it anymore. Thank you to everyone who has been following and reading it all along. I truly appreciate it.

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[1]ᅳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚 ✟

Havana, Cuba

1830(Military Time)

It has been over three hours since you sat and played the grand piano in the restaurant of the capital city. Your fingers ache from pressing down on the black and white keys as you continuously perform well-known classical pieces to entertain the sole guest here, who is seated at the large table in the middle of the restaurant.

A tall, dark-skinned man with an unruly beard and disheveled hair, always dressed in black and adorned with brand-name sunglasses hanging over his chest on the edge of his shirt

That is Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the target you've been waiting for.

You watch this man intently, alert and attentive. Since the mission began, this is the first time you have seen this man so closely. Close enough for you to shoot him dead without missing a beat.

But that's not the objective this time, and you're not playing the role of an assassin or a CIA agent. Here, you're just a "Camila," an ordinary female musician hired to provide some entertainment during an important meeting of the Latin American drug cartel.

"It's too long." Diego's voice crackles through the earpiece, sounding irritated. "Are you sure the intel is correct?"

It's not just him who feels irritated; you feel the same. "I risked my life to obtain this information. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here," your words barely whispered, but the tone sounds like a shout

"I think this should be enough," says the voice that comes back, belonging to Waltz, with a Texan accent that is so familiar to you. "You find a way out, and then we'll discuss what to do next."

No way, you think, but you don't say it out loud.  You deliberately ignored that command.

Suddenly, your bare back under the yellow floral-patterned dress shivers as you notice three more individuals walking into the empty restaurant. They are dressed in vibrant, tailored suits, adorned with thick gold chains and expensive watches 'drug lord uniforms.' That's what Diego told you—the first rule of identifying suspicious individuals—and it proves very useful this time.

Those people are the most powerful drug lord syndicate in Colombia, called "Gentlemen of Cali" Today, they have appeared together, all three of them. You discreetly observe the two Rodríguez brothers, Gilberto and Miguel, They both seem like ordinary old men with no apparent threat. No one knows that beneath that façade, they are the heads of 'Cali Cartel' the most powerful drug cartel in Colombia, controlling over 90% of the cocaine market worldwide, ever since Pablo Escobar fell.

However, the most frightening person is Pacho Herrera, the second-in-command of the gang. He is still young, handsome, and charismatic, with a strong sexual appeal to both men and women (mostly men, as confirmed by one of the prostitutes who is your informant that Pacho is bisexual). His appearance is strikingly different from that of other drug dealers. The reason why this man often takes on the role of negotiating and bargaining for the gang's benefits is that Pacho is always able to fulfill his duties and responsibilities. He is clever, cunning, and ruthless.

Nevertheless, Pacho's relationship with Amado seems to be going well. As far as you have learned, Pacho greatly admires this Mexican drug dealer. Although it is uncertain whether their relationship is strictly professional or romantic, there is a high possibility that this negotiation will succeed without any issues.

Although you are sitting closest to them, you are still considered distant. There is no way for you to hear their conversation, but you can read their lips to some extent.

—I want to make an offer.

—What offer?"

—A transportation exchange with Cocaine and market sharing in America

—You want to compete with my gang?

—I don't want to compete, and what I'm doing will help your gang in America.

That's all you know, albeit not much. However, it's enough to confirm that these two gangs are indeed negotiating a drug trafficking agreement.

There was a tense whispering between the Rodríguez brothers before they abruptly stood up without touching the food on the table. They didn't look upset but rather seemed deeply engrossed in their thoughts about that proposal. As for Pacho, he remained seated at the table, continuing to sip his drink, and began to casually ask Amado, "How are you, friend?" while spraying empty words for several minutes before finally getting up and patting Amado on the back, saying, "Wait for a phone call tonight."

"What happened then?" asked Diego anxiously, but you didn't respond. At that moment, nothing else on that table could divert your attention from the remaining Amado.

Suddenly, he raised his face—the only moment you and he made eye contact without intending to. He smiled at you, and you felt an instant chill when you realized it was the most dangerous smile in both America and Mexico.

And the man slowly stood up before confidently walking towards you.

You stopped playing the piano immediately. The last note resonated in the air before it fell silent. One of your hands instinctively reached to the back, a familiar gesture, only to realize later that you hadn't brought your gun with you.

This was an unexpected situation for you, and the most unsettling part was that you had no idea of his intentions or what kind of danger might arise within the next few minutes.

Perhaps this plan leaked to Amado. Maybe you would die at his hands.

No matter how nervous you were, you tried to smile calmly back at him, the calmest you could be. Your heart pounded when he stopped right in front of you, closer than ever.

"You play the piano very well," was Amado's first sentence. "May I ask your name?"

"I'm Camila."

"And I'm Amado," he said, extending his hand. You shook hands, feeling like it was a dream, but the firm and rough palm confirmed it was real.

The man fell silent, contemplating something deeply in his heart. You didn't dare move again; you remained seated, still wary what was happening.

He must have a plan. That's what you're thinking right now

And Amado also had a plan for you, just not the kind you had imagined.

"I think I'll have to stay around here for a while. It would be good to have a friend with me. If you have no business and don't mind being my friend," he said,

You raised an eyebrow, almost letting your jaw drop.

You didn't react immediately. You knew what he wanted from you.

"Well, I'm just a musician. If you need..." You left a small gap for him to figure out. "I think you can contact some women from outside."

"No, no, not like that." Amado quickly waved his hand, looking surprised and chuckling at the same time. "I just want you to join me for a drink and sit with me as long as I stay here, that's all."

You blinked in astonishment, realizing that everything happening was beyond the mission and beyond expectations. No matter what, you have obtained what you want now, and you should leave as soon as you have the chance before anything bad happens.

But deep down, you also knew that this was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime chance that might never come again.

You tried to smile again and chose to do the opposite of what you should do.

"Sure, why not, if you're paying"

You accept his offer

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Inside the modified black van, loud conversations in Spanish resonated. Before Diego's face emerged from the van's window, he glanced at his boss, who was waiting outside with American officers, his expression not looking too good.

"We can't contact Y/N anymore, but we know she's with Amado now."

The deputy police chief, who had just finished smoking a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke before squinting at Diego. "What does it mean that She's with Amado? Did they catch her?"

"Nah, I think she chose to stay willingly." Diego took off his glasses, a rare occurrence unless he was feeling stressed. "That idiot lured her to drink, and she said yes!. I've invited her before, and she refused all the time. But now she chooses to go with that scumbag drug dealer without a second thought!”

Julio chuckled, He smirked before extending his hand to slap him on the back. "Because you're not as handsome as he is, little boy."

"I don't see what's so funny." Walt spoke up, leaning against the van door with a tense expression: "She's in danger, and we need to get her out of there quickly."

"Calm down, White Boy." Julio's voice remained relaxed, knowing that the American officer genuinely cared for their lone teammate. "She's C.I.A. Somehow she managed to survive, right?"

"But the C.I.A. isn't God," Walt retorted. "She could have been shot and killed just like me and you."

Diego glanced at Walt and immediately decided that this was not about himself. So he quickly turned his face and stepped back into the van. There was a faint shout from one of the Mexican soldiers on the other side, suggesting, "If you guys want to fight, do it in a secluded place." Walt responded to the advice by raising his middle finger in return.

Such situations were common in the battle against drug trafficking. Sometimes the tension of the mission led to heated arguments

If Americans were like tongues, Mexicans were like teeth. Julio knew this truth well, as did Walt himself.

The Mexican man calmly lit up another cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke from his mouth and nose. "Listen, Walt, I know that the C.I.A. is not a god. Americans like you have never been my gods, and I know Y/N is going to do something by herself. No one is controlling her. That means she believes in herself, and you should have faith in her too."

With his long, pointing finger, he directed it straight at Walt, locking him in an intense gaze. Fatigued eyes still held a spark. 'We're all tired, and we don't want anyone to die’ conveyed Julio through his gaze, leaving the DEA agent at a loss for words.

Walt wanted to trust in you, as Julio told him, but that didn't help alleviate the anxiety in his heart.

Because you were the youngest agent Walt had ever worked with. You were the same age as his younger brother, and you had a bright future ahead of you. Walt didn't want you to make a mistake, and he didn't want to do anything that would restrain you in any way.

Walt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a fresh cigarette being offered to him by Julio. Walt accepted the gesture by taking it and holding it between his lips, whispering a soft thank you. As Julio lit the cigarette for him,

They both stood there, smoking side by side, exchanging understanding through the smoke and silence. Walt gazed at the darkening sky as the streetlights gradually turned on one by one, illuminating both sides of the road. He took another deep smoke before turning to the person beside him and asking, "So, what do we do next?"

Julio smiled briefly, tapped the end of his own cigarette against the side mirror of the van, and let the ashes fall to the ground.

"All we can do is wait," he said.

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

[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 : Since surviving the Aruba assassination attempt, you've been plagued by recurring nightmares. Amado's attempts to comfort you begin to unsettle your mind, blurring the line between duty and desire. (Soft Amado,Fluff,Hurt/Comfort)

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next (Soon)

[8]ᅳ 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐚𝐬 ✟

Walt is not the only one facing nightmares. Everyone has their own nightmares—those born from imagination, from guilt, or from memories.

And on the remote, solitary island of Aruba, thousands of kilometers away from the violence in Mexico, nightmares haunt you too. 

Throughout the tormenting periods of pain and unconsciousness, under the influence of painkillers that need to be taken every six hours, you're not sure what they are. If it's not Nalbuphine [1], it must be something stronger and nerve-pressuring, helping to alleviate the symptoms but also potentially addictive, just like drugs.

Every time the bitter pill slides down your throat, the foggy veil of memories rises, like the wrecked ship stranded in the depths of pain and the haze of painkillers. It becomes hard to distinguish between dreams and reality. Often, you wake up with rapid, shallow breaths and a racing heartbeat, unable to remember what you dreamt, but it leaves you scared and crying every time you sleep. The moist face and teary eyes upon waking up are clear evidence of this.

However, there are many times when you can feel it during the twilight of sleep, between endless nightmares and midnight screams. Someone comes to embrace you tightly, providing warmth enough to calm you down. That was the only time the nightmares seemed to fade away, as if they had never existed before.

Initially, you thought it might just be layered dreams—tiny good dreams sneaking in to erase the pointless nightmares. But you soon learned the truth when your body was strong enough to move, and Amado decided to take you outside for short walks to exercise. When his arms wrapped around your shoulders to support you, it felt warm, just like a dream. You realized that all of that was real. He had been there with you every night. But he never mentioned it in front of you, and you never thought to ask him about it either.

It's embarrassing for you. To be in such a state, fragile both physically and mentally, and unable to help yourself in any way, Even walking to the bathroom requires much more patience than usual. You try to remain indifferent to the sharp pain in your abdomen, clenching your teeth in frustration and bending down to splash water on your face before reluctantly raising your head to look at your reflection in the old bathroom mirror above the sink. There, you see what you've always seen—a mentally fragile and confused young woman, unsure about her choices and actions.

“Mija, you shouldn't be moving around by yourself. Why didn't you call me to help you?”

Your eyes shifted away from the mirror, and you looked at Amado, who was standing leaning against the bathroom door frame. He was dressed in his usual black shirt and still looked as good as ever, hardly resembling someone whose life had been in danger, especially when compared to your recent appearance reflected in the mirror.

“I had to handle some personal matters. Do you want me to change my clothes in front of you?”

Amado shrugged. “Why embarrassed? I've seen it before, you know.”

“When?” Your eyes widen in shock. Your surprised face made Amado break into a smile—the kind of smile that had been annoying you all week.

“I'm the one who cleaned your wounds and stitched them up, Mija. I probably wouldn't be able to do it if I didn't take off your clothes first.” Amado's tone was calm when he spoke. like seeing your naked body is not important to him. 

You tapped on the wound that had started to heal. The rough stitches would later turn into a repulsive scar. Amado told you yesterday that it was almost time to remove the stitches, meaning you would have to take off your clothes in front of him again.

Shame has long vanished from your thoughts since you've been with him here. However, it was still somewhat annoying to think, "Gracias, but I'd rather do it myself."

“But I don't mind. You can take off your clothes now if you'd like.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at the tall man with a face that wanted to slap him if you weren’t already injured. And Amado knew well what you were thinking. He laughed heartily, amused by your sour mood.

That's a part of what has been happening between you and him since you started living together here. You both constantly exchange words, like a married couple living a boring life together for many years. Perhaps that's Amado's only way to alleviate boredom; he never misses a chance to tease and provoke you.

You want to be more angry at him, but you can't. You're exhausted from everything. And more importantly—something you don't want to admit—Amado has taken care of you as best as anyone could in such a dire situation. Always helping with small things that you couldn't manage yourself or bringing painkillers even when he risks going outside. He also comforts you from nightmares at night. Part of an unbelievable tenderness from the dangerous man who makes you calm enough to sleep dreamlessly.

Maybe it's due to the haziness caused by the pills, making your emotions more fragile than usual. Just temporary sensitivity. It's not empathy, not attachment—nothing more than that. This is what you've been trying to convince yourself of.

"Hey, Mija, is everything okay? You don't look well."

"It's nothing serious," you deny, better than letting him know what you're thinking. "But do you still have some pills left?"

Amado looks back with a knowing glance.

"You're becoming a junkie, you know?" he says. "But today, I have something better than pills."

Amado refuses to say more about what it is, only insisting firmly that he'll take you to see it for yourself.

'Something' that Amado mentioned was placed on the wooden table in the house when he took you there. It was a regular whiskey bottle with two glasses. You quickly turned to look at him in surprise, seeing the smile he sent back with his words, "No need to thank me."

A bottle of whiskey might be something commonly found, costing at least three hundred pesos [2] in Mexico. But in your eyes, it looked no different than an oasis in the middle of a hot desert. You missed whiskey as much as you missed cigarettes, and your old life before ended up in this place with Amado. 

At least having a bottle of whiskey made the present life a bit more bearable.

Amado poured the liquid into both glasses equally before handing one to you. His eyes locked on yours as he sipped from his own glass. "Reminds me of our first date in Cuba."

"You told me Cuba had a terrible mezcal." You chuckled, slowly sipping the whiskey.

"Because the mezcal from my hometown is the best." Amado paused before raising his glass for another sip. It wasn't just you who missed old life; he missed it too. "Once we get out of here, I'll take you to taste the mezcal there."

It wasn't a casual remark like before. You felt the whiskey taste even more bitter when meeting his sincere eyes.

You didn't immediately respond. You glanced at the nearly half-empty glass of whiskey, deliberately avoiding his gaze. However, Amado noticed the subtle anxiety beneath your calm facade.

"Do you think it's possible?"

Your voice cracked slightly, carrying multiple implications in that statement: Is it possible to survive this? Is it possible for us to be together after this is over? Is it possible that there won't be any more losses?

"We'll make it out together, and I promise it won't happen to us again."

Promises were a curse for you because every time there was a promise involved, it often ended up being broken.

Ever since Farris promised over the phone to come back to you safely, he ended up facing torment and dying at the hands of the criminals. And Janet, the friend who promised revenge for you, A promise that never came true, especially when you were the one who decided to bury a bullet into your own friend's head.

Everything that has happened has made you distrustful of anyone's promises.

But this time, you couldn't help but hope that Amado's promise would be true.

You felt the warmth from his large hand holding yours and the gentle squeeze that conveyed comfort without the need for words. You locked eyes with Amado again in silence. At that moment, you felt something, just like the time you locked eyes with Walt. Something delicate was emerging between you and him.

Some things you had to hold back before it got too much and before you had to regret later.

"Don't feel regret later" Amado once warned you. However, you felt no trace of regret when you made the most foolish decision—you kissed him.

Before, you had imagined what it would be like to kiss Walt, but you never had the chance. For Amado, it was different. Even if it was just a simple kiss filled with the taste of cheap whiskey, it happened amidst raw, genuine emotions without pretense. There was nothing profound or delicate about it, but it was a mixture of fear and relief revealed after a near-death experience. And it taught you the meaning of 'Fuck it'

You and him might die tomorrow, or might go separate ways without ever meeting again. At the very least, you wanted to follow your heart just once, even just once.

His dark, intense eyes were wide with the same desire as yours—a desire to feel closer and more intimate. His large hand began to trace from the shoulders, down the collarbone, and to the waistband. But when you pulled back slightly in pain, everything ended abruptly. Amado quickly withdrew from you with a sense of urgency, confusion evident in his face and eyes for a fleeting moment, before he took a deep breath, straightened up, and rubbed his own face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured just loud enough for you to hear, filled with regret and an attempt to restrain his emotions. "I should let you rest."

Amado stood up without looking at you again. But you managed to grab his wrist before he could walk away. You accidentally licked your own lips when his eyes met yours again. "You can stay with me tonight if you want," you said.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your request. Before he could accept or decline, you quickly added, "Just to sleep, that's all. It's like when you used to come and cuddle me at night when I had nightmares."

For a brief moment, you saw embarrassment in the face of the tall man for being caught. And for the first time, you began to genuinely feel that Amado was cute when he was shy.

There was no more teasing or arguing that night. Eventually, Amado yielded to your simple request. In fact, it seemed he didn't have much choice after you made it clear you knew about everything he had secretly done.

The large old bed seemed cramped when two bodies lay together. You tensed slightly as you turned your face toward Amado. He wrapped around you cautiously with both of his arms, feeling the warmth in a way you had felt from him many nights before.

Even in the darkness, it was hard to see anything, but you could vividly feel that he was looking at you, just as you could feel his breath gently caress your face. Then the man leaned in closer and gently pressed his lips against your forehead, whispering softly as he pulled away. 

"Sweet dreams, Mija."

And what Amado said turned out to be true. You didn't have any nightmares throughout that night.

------------------------------------------------------------ 

[1] Nalbuphine is a medication for treating moderate to severe pain, which contains opium extract. The medication acts on the brain and nervous system to numb the sensation of pain. It has various side effects and can cause addiction

[2]The Mexican Peso is the currency of Mexico. The currency code is MXN and it uses the symbol $.

#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 #narcos mexico #scoot mcnairy #Renegada♱

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Renegada♱

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

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

Synopsis: The operation to overthrow the drug lord, Amado Carrillo Fuentes, is the new mission assigned to you by the CIA. However, you have a lingering sense that this mission will not go smoothly, for sure.

AN:  This is my new fanfiction (of course, the old story el paraiso de las pandillas. is not finished yet Lol) when I watched Narcos: Mexico. I love Amando and Walt Breslin so much that I had to write a fanfic about them. I wrote it in Thai on Readawrite(Fyi : it a website for novels in Thailand) before translating it into English to share on Tumblr (apologies if the translation is a bit off, I'm not very good at English). This is an expanded universe from a series with quite a lot of details. I hope you enjoy what I wrote.

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Next 

[Prólogo]ᅳ 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐫 ✟

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)

Looking back into the past, reflecting on the origins of all the evil, Walt and other American DEA Agent would say it started with a man named Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo. 

But for you, You think the real evil came from Amado Carrillo Fuentes 

Who is Amado Carrillo Fuentes? You should remember this name well.

Mexico has been a significant trading partner of the United States for hundreds of years due to the proximity of their borders, making it a strategic goldmine for trading all kinds of goods, from agricultural products, consumer goods, luxury goods, to drugs. It all started with a clear-headed Mexican man named Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo who saw the opportunity to make a fortune from importing drugs to the United States. He coordinated with cocaine producers from Colombia and consolidated the power of various criminal gangs throughout the country into one. Moving cocaine from one point to another by car, plane, or ship, in order to smuggle it into the United States, he became a lord of the drug trafficking world.

Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo, a man with multiple definitions, The godfather of Mexico.The boss above all bosses. Speculations were made that he might have been one of the richest men in the world from the drug trade. It was impossible to topple this man. However, it eventually happened in the end.But Miguel's downfall did not come from the DEA agents. Rather, it came from internal conflicts. Nevertheless, the end of Miguel can be considered the end of the drug war and a victory for America. That is what the government believes, and that is what all Americans think, but they are all horribly wrong.

Miguel was the center of the drug trafficking industry. He held everything in his hands and controlled it all. And when he was gone, the various cartels scattered like broken beehives. They competed against each other for power and were ruthless, with bullets and bloodshed spreading across Mexico. This was a more sinister era than when Miguel was still around.

Amidst this war, there was one man who emerged to play a prominent role above all other drug lords, and that man was Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Amado was once Miguel's right-hand man, doing everything to protect The Godfather's interests until he learned the ins and outs of the dark business. But in the end, Amado chose to betray his own boss and was partly responsible for Miguel's downfall. He quickly rose to power and surprised everyone with his rapid ascent, even making major drug producers in Colombia fear him. 

The truth is, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo's departure was not the end but rather the beginning of a new era of power, with a new drug lord named Amado Carrillo Fuentes taking over. His name was crossed out with a red pen by the United States.

That's all you knew before you were sent on a mission abroad, joining the DEA team to collaborate with the Mexican army under Operation Special to bring down Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

"Do you know why I called you here?"

That's what happened on a Monday morning in Washington, D.C., the first time in months you were urgently summoned with a special order. In the large conference room, there were Raymonde Pemberton, the head of the CIA, and two unfamiliar men with unshaven faces, dressed casually in wrinkled shirts and black jeans. They sat on separate chairs, each holding your dossier in their hands, but no one bothered to read it. All eyes were focused on the woman in the room. –You

"Officer Y/N, formerly Marine and now a CIA agent, 27 years old, unmarried..." The man in a blue suit, who appeared to be the youngest, spoke in Mexican-accented English. He slowly took off his sunglasses before leaning back in the chair. He gazed at you, assessing and considering in a manner that made anyone being looked at feel uncomfortable. "No boyfriend and no children, right?"

"No,Sir." You responded calmly, understanding well why he asked such personal questions. Having attachments is not good for operatives, who are constantly at risk of death. That's why those who are entrusted with important missions are usually single.

"And what have you worked on before?"

"I was part of Operation Neptune Spear.[1]" You noticed the question lingering in the eyes of the two unfamiliar officers. You then elaborated, "Referring to the OBL[2] assassination, sir."

Both men turned to face each other, exchanging tense glances. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before the young man resumed his questioning.

"Mexican-American? Can you speak Spanish?"

"Yes, I can," you replied clearly in Spanish this time. Although you had never been to Mexico in your life, growing up in Texas had instilled a strong sense of being Mexican in you, just like a true Mexican.

The older man smiled with satisfaction. "Finally, America chooses someone who speaks Spanish for us." He stood up to give you a pat on the back. "Go back and pack your things, and say goodbye to America. You won't be coming back here for a while."

He was right. After that day, you never returned to America again.

This mission is called "White Storm." They say it's part of the Mérida Initiative[3], with the main leaders being two strange men you met in the conference room. You later found out who they were—the older one is General Jesús Augusto, from the Ministry of Defense, and the younger one is Julio Merrieta, the Deputy Chief of Police in Mexico, along with about four or five competent DEA agents and several Mexican police officers who were fully supportive of this mission.

The reason why the CIA needed to be involved in this mission was to reconcile the conflict that existed in the past between the DEA and CIA, including the disclosure of classified information alleging that the CIA secretly received money and weapons from Mexican drug traffickers to use in operations against communists in Cuba. This has caused significant damage to the CIA's reputation. so they needed to urgently repair their image. by sending a secret agent to directly assist the DEA. However, the problem is that no CIA agent is willing to work with the DEA. because, in the eyes of the CIA, the DEA is nothing more than a bunch of local cops. Being assigned to this mission is considered a downgrade or even a punishment. It has become a hot potato that everyone wants to pass on, and no one wants to hold it in their hands. That's why they decided to assign this hot potato to you instead.

Because you are neither DEA[4] nor PJF[5], your status as a CIA agent sets you apart from both sides. Additionally, being the only woman on this mission makes it difficult for you to be accepted by others. The initial phase of working together was filled with tension and numerous obstacles. However, after facing life-threatening situations together for several months, a slow bond began to form for everyone on the team. Although there are still some disagreements and conflicts, there is a growing camaraderie among the team members, and some have even become like family.

However, you are not particularly close to anyone to the point of calling them a best friend. But if you were to identify someone you were closest to and trusted the most, that would be Walt Breslin.

an American from Texas who grew up in the same hometown as you and was also a soldier like you. He speaks Spanish fluently. Walt is older than you by almost ten years. He is tall but physically lean, with a scruffy beard that he rarely shaves. This man's face often appears worn and melancholic. You never quite understood why until you heard a story from a coworker that Walt lost his beloved brother due to excessive drug use. He blames himself for this and has been obsessed with fighting against drug trafficking as if it were the only way to compensate for the guilt he feels within.

Walt was the first person to offer you simple camaraderie, handing you a cigarette at a police station in Mexico City. conversed about hometown stories and delved into criticizing the flawed workings of both the Mexican and American systems. He made you laugh from the moment you set foot across the border and has helped you on several occasions since then. He introduced you to the DEA team, protected you when you had issues with certain male colleagues, and made it clear that he did not agree with the sexist remarks made by other male officers towards you. These were not things you had ever received from anyone, even during your time in the CIA.

It took a while for you to realize that the feelings you have for Walt go beyond just the label of "friend."

When did it start? Perhaps it was when you and him were held at gunpoint by drug traffickers, or maybe it was when he pushed you out of the way of a bullet before it exploded your brain. What he did was incredibly foolish. You are a well-trained CIA agent, and there is no way you could have easily died at the hands of amateurs. Yet, despite that, Walt still continued to protect you. And every time you saw that dumb smile of relief on his face when you managed to handle those people without getting hurt, your feelings for him grew stronger and stronger.

You're falling in love with your teammate.

That's the last thing that should happen, especially when your work and his can turn into a graveyard at any time. You're well aware that a dangerous life is not conducive to long-term relationships. That's one of a million reasons why you've decided not to love anyone again, not to mention the unprofessionalism of it all. Although there have never been explicit rules against it, it's just not worth it to have love in the midst of working together.

Keeping these feelings a secret would be the best decision, both for yourself and for him.

"You look like you just got into a fight with a dog."

Diego Gillick, one of the members of the Mexican police team, was the first person to greet you after you walked into the National Police Headquarters that evening. You turned to look at the reflection in the glass door you had just walked through and realized that what was said was not an exaggeration. Your face was bruised, with a small amount of blood and dirt on your forehead.  Some parts of your white shirt wet stained and it didn't seem like they would wash out easily.

"I just had some business to take care of," you replied. The business in question was nothing other than undercover work. That was a job that the intelligence officers were good at. Sometimes it relied on technology, sometimes on people, and sometimes on their own strength. just like what happened three hours ago. 

There was nothing much except for being almost shot at twice while investigating a Cuban man who was suspected to have some connection with Amado Carrillo Fuentes. But that was something worth risking for. for the reliable information you finally obtained. You smiled before placing a cigarette in your mouth and lighting it with a flick, defying the "No Smoking" sign stuck on the adjacent wall. Inhaling deeply, you exhaled a light puff of smoke.

Julio, the Deputy Chief of Police and Head of the White Storm Mission on the Mexican side, was the first person you disclosed the good news to, including the verified documents. He carefully flipped through each page before his narrowed eyes looked up at you. "Amado is in Cuba. Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"I've known that he has been interfering with the Colombian drug traffickers ever since he started selling drugs in America. He needed to clear them out to avoid any problems with his own business in the future," you said, pointing to a document in Julio's hand. "There's a report of a private plane that flew out of Mexico yesterday. Its destination is Havana, Cuba. This could be a significant meeting between two major drug lords from both countries, which may indicate a major change in the drug trade that would impact all parties involved. I think we should take this opportunity to gather more information."

A major change in the drug trade is not an exaggeration when it comes to someone like Amado Carrillo Fuentes. If Amado succeeds with cocaine, this man will not only be the top drug lord in Mexico and America but also the world, surpassing even Miguel in his prime, and Mexico will become the paradise of drugs, replacing Thailand, which has held this position since the Cold War era.

The United States and Mexico need to closely monitor this matter.

"You're right," the Mexican officer said. and you could sense his focused gaze on you, indicating that he was thinking about something. "We need to make sure our people are there when they gather..."

"And that person is me," you interjected without waiting for him to finish.

He chuckled softly at your response. "There's no other damn fool in here who can infiltrate as well as a CIA agent. Be glad you've been given this opportunity." Julio's face remained unchanged, but his tone showed admiration. "And one more thing, those scumbag drug lords always like a beautiful woman like you."

At that moment, you felt a strong premonition of something bad happening in the future, something you yourself were not aware of yet.  However, you could sense it strongly, as if feeling your own breath. You felt the tension in every muscle and a sense of unease in your chest like a gaping void.

That's what you felt after accepting the role and saying, "Yes, I'll do it."

Part of the fleeting emotions that passed through your mind made you want to change your mind and reject it instead. But it's too late to retreat; it's too late to turn back.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

[1]Operation Neptune Spear : It is a classified mission under the Obama administration, with the cooperation of key organizations such as the CIA and SEAL Team Six, to covertly raid and assassinate Osama bin Laden in Abbottabad, Pakistan

[2]OBL is an acronym used by the military to refer to Osama bin Laden, the notorious terrorist and founder of the jihadist organization Al-Qaeda.

[3]The Mérida Initiative is a cooperation agreement on security matters between the United States, the government of Mexico, and Central American countries. Its objective is to combat drug trafficking, transnational crime, and money laundering.

[4]The Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) is a United States federal law enforcement agency tasked with combating illicit drug trafficking and distribution within the U.S. 

[5]Policía Judicial Federal(PJF) was the federal police force of Mexico until it was shut down in 2002 due to its own rampant corruption and criminal activity.

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

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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 : The drug war in Mexico has been deteriorating steadily ever since Amado disappeared without a trace. How will Walt cope when he loses you, and his nightmares that continue to haunt him haven't faded away?

------------------------------------------------------------ 

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[7]ᅳ 𝐓𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐬 ✟

Things in Mexico have been continuously worsening ever since Amado Carrillo Fuentes disappeared without a trace. And some members of the Arellano family were captured, under the collaboration of the DEA and PJF. 

The relationship between the Mexican drug cartels and American officials there has always been extremely complex. Undoubtedly, they detest each other deeply, but they can't confront each other directly due to legal constraints and the relationship between the two countries. It's like playing a cat-and-mouse game where neither side ever crosses the line seriously. Until the drug war intensifies, with Walt's actions being part of these outcomes.

The arrest and ill treatment of Ramón Arellano Félix's close friend are no different from a slap in their face. The Arellano family wants revenge on everyone involved and wants their voices loud enough for America to hear. That's why the number of missing and deceased police officers associated with the drug trade has intentionally risen. Each case always sends a direct message to the DEA—just like the recent incident that happened today.

The local roadside restaurant in the early morning seemed busier than ever, surrounded by several police officers, including a group of journalists standing off-camera, cordoned off from the incident area. Walt had to spend a considerable amount of time maneuvering through the crowd and avoiding nosy reporters until he finally reached the scene of the incident. He took a deep breath and removed his sunglasses, displaying his badge to the officers there for verification before being allowed to pass.

As he bent down to pass under the police tape and was about to step inside, there were still voices of disappointed questions from the chasing journalists behind him that never seemed to stop. However, there was one sentence that made the man stop abruptly for a moment.

"Do you think America bears responsibility for the recent deaths and disappearances of Mexican police officers?

Walt couldn't resist turning back, and he encountered a young Mexican woman standing closest to him. She was wearing a wrinkled khaki shirt paired with old jeans. Her messy hair was loosely tied into a ponytail, with acne scattered across her face. Her dark eyes, hidden beneath thick-framed glasses, looked weary and exhausted, as if she had just slept for a few hours before hastily showing up here, holding an old recorder in her hand.

"Who are you?" Walt asked, although he could already tell from the press badge hanging around her neck that clearly stated her status.

"Teresa, from La Gente newspaper," the young woman responded eagerly, catching her breath as she gained attention from this man. "As I asked before, what are your thoughts on this?"

"You seem to know quite a lot, isn't it?" Walt retorted.

She raised her eyebrows, her eyes sparkling challengingly. "Well, I am a journalist. I always find out some information one way or another."

Walt didn't hate journalists as much as most American officials did, but he certainly didn't favor them much either, especially the relentless type like Teresa, who would crash into anything just to get a story. It wasn't hard for the DEA to figure out who she was with just a quick glance, especially when she wasn't the first journalist he'd dealt with before.

"We're doing our best to eradicate the drug trafficking groups, and those responsible are them, not us."

That was the first and only answer he gave to the journalist, just like the answer he constantly told himself every day for every violent event that happened in Mexico and for everything that happened to those close to him.

Walt stepped cautiously through the shattered glass scattered across the floor of the restaurant. A cigarette unlit hung from his lips. His sharp eyes fixed on the body of a police officer sprawled on a table inside the eatery. The traces of dozens of bullets and dried blood were embedded deeply into the fresh yellow paint of the chairs and even onto the cement floor. It was another momentary pause for the DEA agent when he recognized the face of the deceased officer, who had once been suspected of secretly taking money from drug traffickers.

It seemed that all drug lords wouldn't be too pleased with the two-faced cop anymore.

Walt pondered. As he slowly shifted his gaze upwards from the corpse to the wall above, he came across some words written in blood on the wall: 'Pobre México! Tan lejos de Dios y tan cerca de los Estados Unidos[1]'.

"Quite the warm welcome from the Mexicans, isn't it?"

Walt glanced towards Julio, standing beside him. who stood with his arms crossed. His gaze shifted to the lifeless body of the unfortunate officer. before turning to look at Walt with a rather ambiguous smile.

"These damned criminals are getting closer to us every time," a high-ranking officer said, raising his hand and stroking his mustache with a contemplative look. "Sometimes, I can't help but wonder if one day I might end up like this too."

"It's just the corrupt cops that were killed." Walt's tone was flat, as if he didn't feel any sympathy for the dead bodies lying in front of him. "If you're not corrupt, there's nothing to fear."

Julio's smile slightly faded. He looked at the DEA agent with a piercing gaze.

"You overestimate those scum a bit too much. Do you think they really give a shit about cops who take bribes from them? What they care about is who to keep and who to eliminate."

Julio paused for a moment, intentionally letting Walt ponder on his own. And Walt knew which group he belonged to—the ones that needed to be eliminated.

"We all know how this will end, don't we? You have just as much a chance of ending up a corpse as I do."

Julio gently squeezed Walt shoulder before walking away quietly. He left those words buried deep in Walt's thoughts. Walt wasn't sure whether Julio was speaking the truth or warning him.

When the DEA agent's gaze returned to the body of the policeman on the dining table once more, he couldn't help but ponder the possibility that Julio mentioned. There is a possibility that he might end up dead right there instead of being an empty shell of another person. Another casualty in the drug war, of which he was partly the cause.

That night, Walt drifted into a restless sleep, dreaming of what he had witnessed earlier that day. The image of the dead policeman shot in the restaurant was vivid; every detail was clear and unaltered. The lifeless, wide-open-glazed eyes, bullet holes, and blood scattered all over the body. But the one thing that was different was the face of the deceased man, replaced by yours.

------------------------------------------------------------ 

Death shouldn't feel this painful.

The excruciating pain that surged with even the slightest movement made you instantly aware of how lucky you were to still be breathing until now.

Where am I?

You groaned as the pain struck again. Your entire body trembled with alarm and confusion. You wanted to open your eyes, but your eyelids felt too heavy. You have a headache so intense that you can't do anything but lie still on the narrow, musty-smelling bed, feeling like you are sinking into dark, silent water with nothing in sight.

At that moment, someone firmly grasped your arm, whispering gently, "Stay calm." You began to relax a bit, regaining consciousness for a moment before finally managing to open your eyes. The image in front of you was initially blurry, but with each blink, things became clearer.

The first thing you saw was Amado's face. He stood beside the bed, his hand still holding onto your arm as if not wanting you to move more. 

"Are you alright? Can you talk?"

You tried to respond to him, but your throat was too dry to make any sound. Amado then handed you a glass of water and helped support your head so you could drink more easily. You drank the water quickly and took deep breaths, trying to comprehend what was happening.

The shock hadn't faded. It intensified as you looked around and realized you were in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't an apartment in Mexico, a small house in Texas, or even a hospital. Instead, it was just a small bedroom in an old wooden house, perched on a mountain overlooking a distant sea from the window. You furrowed your brow slightly before remembering that you were still somewhere on Aruba Island. 

The events prior played back scene by scene in your mind. The assassins, the gunfire, the blood, and the sharp pain in your abdomen from being shot—all vividly clear up to this moment. Your heart raced irregularly, still swirling with the last memories before losing consciousness. Memories that bordered on the brink of death

But you're not dead. You're safe and alive.

The fragments of fear you were trying to hide were exposed during your weakest moments. You raised your hand to cover your face, letting tears silently flow without a sound of sobbing. You felt relieved that you were safe but also saddened that you hadn't died.

Your fake name was called out again, accompanied by the man's hand placed on your head—a gentle touch that made you feel slightly better. "We're okay now. Don't be scared," Amado said firmly. Finally, your mind calmed down. You wiped away the warm tears, feeling slightly embarrassed for inadvertently crying in front of him.

"What happened?" you managed to ask, even though it sounded drier than usual. You paused slightly, realizing your question sounded a bit too much like that of a cop. But Amado didn't seem to notice your oddity. He maintained his composure, except that his smile no longer seemed annoying, replaced by exhaustion.

"We've managed to survive, at least for now. But I don't know if there are more of them outside. We need to hide until my people get here," he said directly, his eyes showing a hint of anxiety. "I can't take you to the hospital; it's too dangerous. Luckily, I could provide basic first aid."

"And you weren't injured, right?" It was merely a curiosity tinged with a tiny bit of concern that prompted you to ask that.

His face looked genuinely surprised upon hearing this, but then he broke into a small, amused laugh. "You should worry about yourself, Mija. Do you realize how foolish you are to take that bullet for me?"

You locked eyes with him "Then you're just as foolish for not leaving me behind."

Once again, a CIA agent took a risk with something that seemed impossible.

If you were just an ordinary whore for Amado, you'd likely be lying dead on the streets like anyone else by now. There's no reason someone like him would take a risk to save you unless the misattribution of arousal theory[2] had worked. The serendipity of being together in dangerous situations, coupled with your naive sacrifice, might have endeared you to Amado more than you had anticipated. And his fondness could prove immensely beneficial for you.

Even though your mission may be considered a failure, you're still alive, and as long as you're breathing, there's always a chance. Right now, Amado Carrillo Fuentes is your only chance—a chance to survive this island. But it's also a chance to plunge yourself into more danger, and there's no guarantee you'll be this lucky again.

Both Amado and you know this well.

"Are you not regretting saving me?" Amado asked.

"No," you answered with a voice that tried to be sincere, but deep down, you weren't entirely sure if what you said came from pretense or genuine feelings. "If I could turn back time, I'd probably still do the same thing, though I might choose something smarter."

Amado leaned in closer than before. With one hand, he cupped your pale cheek, tracing his fingers along your jawline slowly. Contemplative, cautious, and concerned—that's what you saw in his eyes. It reminded you of what you once saw in Walt's eyes.

You blinked again. This time, the face of Walt in front of you reverted back to the original Amado. Silence lingered long enough for him to decide to kiss you. It was just a light press of lips against yours, trailing to both cheeks and finally the forehead. 

"Don't feel regret later" he says.

It's dangerous. Your conscience repeated the warning as you clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug into the flesh of your palm.

The elusive smile on his face made your heart race. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a high cliff, teetering on whether to plunge into the unknown darkness below.

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[1] "Poor Mexico, So Far From God, So Close to the United States." (Pobre México, Tan lejos de Dios y tan cerca de los Estados Unidos) This sentence, attributed to Porfirio Diaz, the Mexican dictator in the 19th century, illustrates the tumultuous history between the United States and Mexico, which has spanned for centuries.

[2]The Misattribution Of Arousal Theory It is a psychological study by Dr. Donald Dutton and Dr. Arthur Aron that shows how humans can fall in love when placed in stressful situations. This is because when feelings of excitement and fear occur, there is a hormonal response of adrenaline that makes individuals feel love towards someone nearby or someone who extends a helping hand.

#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♱

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n (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) Ps. this chapter had Heavy Angst

Synopsis : The bombing incident at the police station triggered painful memories from the past for you, and you made the decision to let Walt know all about it.

AN : I drew inspiration for this chapter from my favorite movies, which are "The Kingdom" (2007) and "Zero Dark Thirty" (2012). This is why I chose the female lead to be a CIA agent. It's quite dramatic, but I hope you'll enjoy it.

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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[4]ᅳ 𝐎𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫 ✟

A torn page from a travel magazine has been pinned to the bulletin board inside the large conference room by your hand. It depicts an image of a beautiful island in the middle of the ocean, revealing crystal-clear waters with visible fish swimming beneath, the sunlight glistening above the palm tree tops, and beneath the palm trees, two or three people in bright swimsuits smiling and seemingly joyful. The caption reads, 'Aruba, paradise for peace and nature lovers.'

"Planning a tropical vacation, are you?" A soft chuckle follows after Diego speaks up. You turn back with a hint of 'How funny!' written on your face before hesitating and hurriedly amending your tone upon seeing Julio enter as the last person. He glances at you for a moment before nodding slightly, a sign permitting the morning meeting to commence.

The atmosphere switches from informal to professional immediately as you begin recounting the details of your conversation with Amado from the previous day, which you had anticipated must occur.

Firstly, they have no idea that you have had secret contact with Amado.

Secondly, because what Amado wanted seemed deeply personal,

"I think he might be planning something or perhaps escaping the tense situation in Mexico temporarily. Either way, this is an opportune moment to keep an eye on him while he's away from the drug scene," you say.

"Aruba is under the jurisdiction of the Netherlands' autonomy; you know that, right?" Bill interjects with a scrutinizing frown. "And if I remember correctly, it's a tax haven[1] for the wealthy."

"I know," you reply, meeting his gaze. "Holland[2] has been politically neutral since World War II."

"And do you know what this means? Because the Netherlands, the ultimate middleman, won't do a thing, whether it's money laundering or drug lords vacationing there."

Bill isn't the only one concerned about this. Even Julio, who has been silent for a while, seems to agree with Bill. He takes a breath before adding, "Bill is right. Mexico and the United States can't just waltz into that territory, and the Netherlands won't extradite criminals."

"But we're not going to apprehend him at all; just keep an eye on him," you emphasize.

"That's not the point," someone interjects, pausing to glance at the familiar sound. You see Walt on the other side of the table, looking at you openly.

"You'll have to stay close to him, and we won't be able to reach you. If anything happens to you there, we won't know, and we won't be able to help you," Walt's words reasoned. To put it bluntly, this mission is more dangerous than any other the DEA has done before because no one can get as close as you can, and being close to a drug lord is like being in shark-infested water or a lion's den. It's no different from throwing away your life.

However, what seemed like a downside to this mission has turned into a strength. Even though they may try to argue, no one dares to stand against it. You notice that other agents are silently looking at each other, still conflicted and uncertain. So you decide not to push your proposal any further. The CIA stands up and stretches, glancing briefly at Walt before turning back to your superior.

"Whatever you say, boss,"

With that, you leave the conference room, cigarette in hand, feeling every nerve in your body tense and scream for nicotine. You have to step outside the police building to smoke since you've been reprimanded more than a hundred times for smoking indoors.

As you walk out of the police station, you hear footsteps following closely behind. You had a slight hope it might be Walt, but you're disappointed when you see Diego, your Mexican colleague, catching up to you. He already has a cigarette in his mouth, and he gives you a small greeting smile before flicking open his lighter.

"You leave a big bomb in the conference room. You Know that, Right?"

You chuckle dryly before handing him your cigarette for a light. "Well, you know how it is. Just a casual suggestion."

Diego shrugs, takes a drag, and exhales slowly. "Speaking as a cop, it's plausible. But as a friend, I'm concerned that you're going alone."

"Don’t worry, bro. I've taken plenty of risks before coming here, and I've been doing this every day until now."

"Are you talking about the war against terrorism with Bin Laden?" Diego's eyes immediately light up because it's rare for you to speak about your past missions. "Do you know how much your story is talked about among us? I heard you survived Al Qaeda's bomb."

Sometimes the past and the present are oddly connected.

As Diego mentions the bomb, you flashback to the time when you were still in Pakistan. You were standing by the roadside, looking at a red car that had exploded right in front of you.

you should have been in that car. That's a narrow escape.

And the memories from the past come flooding back once again. When you saw another car parked not far away, the same make but gray, something triggered in your mind. It was like a little superstition that usually happens when something bad is about to occur, like stumbling on your own feet or bumping into a door.

But what happened on that Monday morning in front of the National Police Headquarters was much worse than any of those.

You hastily pushed Diego far away with an instinctual shove, and in the blink of an eye, everything seemed to rip apart and scatter into chaos. Fire and hot air exploded from the car, dispersing in all directions. The deafening roar drowned out everything else, trembling so intensely that it almost felt like you couldn't hear anything else but the noise, like the annoying buzz in your ears.

Your body was flung several meters, rolling on the ground before finally coming to a stop. You weren't sure how long you lay there; it seemed like an hour in your mind, but in reality, it might have been just a few minutes. You felt nothing, and everything in your head was a whirlwind, muddled, and unclear, like a fogged-up glass smeared with something wet. You raised your hand to wipe it away from your face and realized it was blood from your head.

You struggled to get up again. The waves of pain crashed over you until you nearly vomited again, but you still had enough consciousness to hold yourself together. The annoying buzz remained in your ears. You looked up as someone held your cheek.

Diego, who was in a similar dazed state, was muttering something, but you didn't hear it. You didn't care about it either. You raised your face to the completely exploded and burned-out car without even knowing that you were crying out loud.

Everything remained the same and unchanged, whether it was past or present.

And you've never been able to escape these haunting memories at all.

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‘Car bomb outside the National Police Office and the United States Embassy in Mexico City, injuring more than twenty people,’ headlined today's newspapers. It has become a major news event that has shaken not only Mexico City but also Washington, D.C. Excluding the previous violent incidents from the ruthless terrorist, there has never been such a severe attack on American officials abroad. And, until now, no one knew for sure the extent of the cartel's involvement.

For the United States government, this is a serious affront to a major world power. They demand accountability from Mexico and won't just stand by without punishing those responsible for the violence.

These situations directly impact the Merida Initiative, especially the White Storm mission. Under pressure from higher-ups looking for results to ease the tension between the two nations, orders have been transmitted through the distributed embassy network to all DEA agents in Mexico. The lengthy documents can be summarized as, "Get it done now, or be prepared to shut down."

The atmosphere in the tense office was at its peak. For the overall mission to continue, it was necessary to do something quickly, at least in part. The proposal on the Aruba Island case, which you had suggested, had been reconsidered and was now fully approved without any objections.

"They've gone crazy, haven't they? You barely survived, and they're still sending you to die."

It's not often you see Walt squirm with your own eyes, but it made sense from his perspective. Assigning injured agents from the bombing to a high-risk mission immediately after just one week's recovery was a terrible option for dealing with these complicated problems. But it also made it clear that they had no other choice and couldn't avoid the worst-case scenario.

"I'm not seriously injured here,and nothing's broken. Nothing's missing. I can still work." You sipped your coffee and leaned back against your kitchen counter. Your demeanor was calm, without much distress, as if you already knew it had to be this way.

It's lucky that you weren't severely injured in the explosion, apart from a minor concussion and superficial wounds all over your body. There's almost nothing to worry about. Comparatively, with both of Diego's arms and legs broken, causing him to have a month-long break, your condition seemed almost miraculous.

Miraculous—something that's happened to you before, back in Saudi Arabia.

"Let's be honest here. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if you're insane." Walt stood and abandoned his now-cold cup of coffee, just like your untouched pancakes. The tension from the minor spat this morning had seemingly left breakfast tasteless.

"What choice do I have, Walt? This mission is critically important, and I have to do it no matter what."

"But your life is just as important," he says.

This time, you chose not to respond. You know that speaking your mind would only make him angrier than before.

During this uncomfortable silence, Walt continues to stare at you, as if he wants to delve deep into your thoughts and cross the walls you've built. But you're too afraid to let him get too close, so you intentionally avoid his gaze.

"Can't you tell me why?" The man's words are more than the typical expressions of concern.

You tend to push yourself too hard and take on too much risk, and at first he thought it might be an outsider's need to prove themselves to the team. But as time went on, Walt realized it was more than that. You seemed to be holding onto something, focusing solely on the missions you undertook as if they were the only thing that could provide solace. It's something he understood, as he felt much the same way after losing his brother, Martin, and his former partner, Tommy.

But who is that person for you?, Walt couldn't say. Your identity as a CIA agent has always been shrouded in mystery.

"Do you want to know about my past missions before I came to work here?" It comes out as an unexpectedly straightforward question. However, when you lift your head to meet his gaze, Walt notices the faint vulnerability hidden behind your dark, somber eyes. It's not something he's seen from this woman since they started working together.

This is the revelation of your significant secret, one that no one has ever uncovered before.

You took a deep breath and placed the coffee on the counter. There was no reason to keep these things from him any longer.

"I spent over a decade in Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, dedicating my life to hunting down Bin Laden. But it's not just my life that was lost; it's the lives of everyone I loved." Your hand tapped on the necklace You wore unconsciously, beyond the Dog Tag. There was also a plain silver ring that hung from a chain. The cold touch of metal felt colder than ever.

"His name was Faris Qazi, the head of Saudi Arabia's commando unit, and he was my fiancé. We planned to get married after all this madness ended. I was willing to convert to Islam, and he Al-Yamin[3] to have me as his only wife. But just three days after we had agreed to marry, he was attacked and killed because of me. I sent him to die based on information I was so sure was correct. That day, I should've been the one to go on the mission, not him. I was the one who should've died from the beginning."

You watch everything through tracking cameras and listen through communication radios. You heard the screams, the explosions, the gunfire, and his last words, assuring you that it was okay and that he would make it back.

Faris eventually came back to you, but not in the way you expected. It wasn't in a living form. What was returned were pieces of his body, separated and sent directly to the American embassy in a large box. His left finger from the remaining corpse still wears the silver ring, soaked in blood—the engagement ring between you and him.

And that was not the only loss that C.I.A. agents had to face.

"And Janet Carter, my colleague. She was the one who supported me when I lost Faris. She swore with me that we would seek revenge for what happened. She helped me investigate and connect with a man who had access to Bin Laden. We arranged to meet him in Pakistan. He drove up in a red car. Janet told me to wait because she would be the one to talk. It was a disastrous decision. Al-Qaida deceived us and sent a car bomb to kill me. Their target was me, the one leading the main mission. But the one who had to face the consequences was Janet. I saw the explosion. I saw my friend lying on the road, still breathing. She screamed, tortured beyond endurance. She begged me to shoot her, and I did."

There isn't a single tear when you recount the tragedy to Walt. But the man knows that beneath that composed facade and the chillingly calm voice, you are no different from a fragile glass filled with countless fractures, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

"Y/N, it's not your fault."

"But it was my duty. If I had chosen to follow my initial duty, no one would have to die in my place." You lock eyes with him, deadly serious. "We've all come too far to turn back now. Both you and I know that better than anyone."

For a moment, your gaze made him shudder. Walt knows well enough that you meant something more, for it's not just you who has gone through loss. He himself has experienced it, and no one can understand each other's pain better than those who have gone through the same kind of hell.

You smiled ever so slightly at the person in front of you. "I just don't want you to blame yourself if something happens to me, because it's not your fault the same way it's not mine."

As you finish speaking, Walt hugs you before you can react. It was a tight, intimate hug that allowed you to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat on the left side of his chest and a trembling force that seems to almost give in to tears, but Walt doesn't cry or say anything except for hugging you tightly in silence.

You took a slow breath before closing your eyes, and you chose to hug him back just as tightly. It wasn't easy for both Walt and yourself, whether it was this mission or the complex relationship you shared with him.

It could end in a beautiful success or in mistakes and losses like before. Everything was possible

But whatever happened, you were ready to let it unfold.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------   [1] A tax haven is a group of Caribbean islands that have tax policies with low tax rates or tax exemptions, making them a significant hub for the movement of a large amount of money, both legally and illegally. and also crucial in the money laundering process, especially for drug traffickers.

[2]Netherlands declared neutrality during World War I between the years 1914 to 1918 and declared neutrality once again during World War II before being invaded by Nazi forces between the years 1940 to 1945.

[3] yamin يمين, It is emphasizing the swear by mentioning the names of Allah or from His other titles

#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♱

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n (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 : You were utterly surprised when you discovered that the incoming call was from Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the man who is the primary target of yours.

AN : I will ask you the same question Amado asked, "Do you miss me?" I know I've been absent, but I won't abandon this fanfic, Because I have already finished writing this story (in the Thai language). but the translation takes a considerable amount of time, coupled with busy work, which made me disappear for a while. But don't worry, I assure you I will continue translating until it's completed. And I will create a Masterlist soon, so you can follow each chapter more conveniently.

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[3]ᅳ 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐫 ✟

Once upon a time, Steve Murphy, a DEA agent from Colombia, was the mastermind behind the takedown of Pablo Escobar. He had likened drug traffickers to cockroaches—filthy, hard-to-kill, and constantly multiplying. But in your eyes, you believed that these drug dealers were akin to Hydra, the mythical Greek monster. Whenever Hercules would cut off one of its heads, two new ones would sprout in its place, symbolizing the endless cycle of the drug trade in Mexico.

It's true that Amado Carrillo Fuentes still holds the number one spot at the moment, but that doesn't mean that other drug lord groups are powerless. When the main head that controlled everything was eliminated from the equation, such as Miguel Angel Félix Gallardo, it only made these drug lords more influential and crazed, ready to do anything to maintain their authority and expand their dominance as far as possible.

The war on drugs continued unabated, and whenever someone stood out, they became an inevitable target.  This was what was happening to Amado, because it wasn't just DEA agents who wanted to bring him down; other rival drug cartels also desired to witness his downfall.

"The Arellano family is making their move," Julio says, pointing to a picture of a family pinned amidst a wealth of information on a large board in the conference room of Mexico's Police Office. "We've received reports of an attempt to assassinate Amado at a restaurant in Juarez. Additionally, there have been reports of burning and destruction at El Chapo's warehouse in Sinaloa."

Bill hastily raised his hand with enthusiasm, and when the leader nodded, he immediately expressed his opinion: "I think they're struggling desperately at the last straw. Maybe they're causing some disturbances for others to stumble upon, but they can't do much more than that.'

Bill spoke accurately. The Arellano family's power has been declining significantly. They used to be much grander, much like the Corleone family in 'The Godfather. Drug trafficking is the business of this prominent family, led by the eldest brother, Benjamin Arellano, accompanied by numerous brothers and sisters. However, the most striking and notorious person in the Mexican underworld would be Ramón Arellano, the youngest brother of the family, who stands out as a truly bloodthirsty and insane

Ramón Arellano often received assignments from his older siblings involving violent tasks, and it was certain that he had a hand in the assassination attempts on Amado.

"But I don't think the Arellanos initiated this," you countered, causing all eyes in the conference room to turn towards you.

"Why do you think that way, officer?" Julio asked, inquisitive.

"The agreement between Amado and the Cali Cartel is directly related to the cocaine issue. This is because all drug dealers in Mexico are merely intermediaries. They don't produce cocaine themselves. What Amado did to Colombia almost entirely severed their control over the cocaine trade in Mexico. That's the reason Arellano is struggling to maintain their position." You presented your thoughts, supported by the information you had personally researched over the past few days. " What's still keeping Arellano from collapsing is the territory they possess. Baja California is a borderland adjacent to two crucial states in America. We know it's the easiest route to smuggle drugs into the U.S. Whoever wants to traffic drugs on that side has to pay a toll to Arellano. However, Amado chose to transport cocaine by plane instead, and El Chapo believed that Arellano had lost power, so he refused to pay the toll. This angered them and led to a decision to retaliate. It's also to send a message to other gangs not to mess with Arellano."

Up to this point, your gaze had grown more serious than before. "Prepare yourselves, gentlemen, because the drug war is going to be much more intense than ever before."

It was a sign of change, much like the shifting weather in Mexico, and indicative of the many other changes to come in the future.

On a scorching Tuesday afternoon, you opened the door and hurriedly jumped out of the taxi after paying the fare. The street was lined with parked police cars, and right in front of you were two familiar men. Bill and Walt seemed to have arrived on the scene earlier than you. They were both standing, arms crossed, staring up at the hanging bridge above them. Their faces struggled to cope with what was up there.

It was the bodies of three men, wrapped and hanging by their necks from the suspension bridge.

"I hope you've had breakfast because you probably won't eat anything for the rest of the day," Bill commented with a slight smile. You managed a half-smile in return, not wanting to reveal to him that you'd only had coffee from yesterday's midday until now.

"We've checked. These three are part of the Arellano gang, the same group that attempted to kill Amado a few days ago." Walt turned to lock eyes with you, exhaling a long breath. "You hit the nail on the head."

You averted his eyes briefly before raising your hand to rub your temple. feeling the rising wave of nausea from your stomach to your throat. It had nothing to do with the gruesome sight you've just witnessed. When your profession forces you to encounter horror regularly, that sensation has already faded away. But the unease you feel now is due to having only slept for three hours last night.  And considering the events of today, it seemed like tonight would be same as well

"Are you alright?" Walt was the first to notice the abnormality. He quickly stepped closer and grabbed your arm. "I'll take you in my car. I'll drop you off at the apartment."

"I'm fine, really. It's just a bit too sunny," you declined, knowing well that Walt wouldn't believe your words. But he didn't push further.

You, along with the other two DEA agents, continued to watch the Mexican police slowly lower the bodies from the bridge in a rush. A small crowd had gathered around the area; some glanced curiously, but most just passed by in silence, unfazed, without a hint of alarm, shock, or fear on their faces.

For the locals, this was just another routine day in Mexico.

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The loud ringing of a mobile phone repeatedly woke you up from your deep sleep. You found yourself sprawled on a blood-red couch that wasn't your own, and the overall state of the room differed drastically from your familiar living space. You observed the cleanliness and order, realizing that this was Walt's apartment. He lived in the same apartment complex as you but on a different floor. Walt had invited you over for dinner at his place to discuss and plan ahead. Due to the accumulated fatigue and the substantial meal you had just eaten, following a day fueled by nothing but coffee, you dozed off before you could even engage in a work conversation with Walt.

Your bleary eyes shifted towards the open window and saw that the sky had darkened. You couldn't spot any signs of the room's owner. You assumed he might be out for some errands or working outside, deliberately choosing not to disturb you. Shifting your weight, you propped yourself up from the couch, sitting up once again. A yawn erupted while you reached for the phone on the table, picking it up and placing it against your ear without paying much attention to see who was calling.

The voice that came through the line brushed away the remaining drowsiness that clung to you.

"I hope I'm not bothering you." No introduction, no greeting But you knew very well who was on the line. You quickly roused yourself from the couch. "Amado?"

"Glad you remember," Amado chuckled. "I thought you might have forgotten about me."

Not a chance; how could you forget the man who was your main target?

You searched urgently for a notepad and pen, one hand keeping the phone pressed to your ear. "I assumed you might have forgotten me instead, since you never got back to me."

That night in Cuba was not just a casual conversation. You knew things were getting serious when Amado requested your phone number.  You decided to give him a backup phone number without telling anyone, not yet sure about his intentions

You hoped he would call. You also hoped he wouldn't call.

But in the end, he did call, and you were fine with it.

"Did you miss me?" Amado's voice sounded strangely teasing.

You stayed quiet for a moment, weighing your words carefully before responding, "I've been more worried about you."

He didn't reply immediately, seeming lost in his own thoughts just as you were. You heard a long exhale at the other end of the line.  "You're the first person to say you're worried about me."

It wasn't an exaggeration, not in the slightest. Anyone else would want this man dead, and as a CIA agent, you knew that well. However, it was still odd and surreal to hear these words spoken directly from the weary voice on the line.

Was it pity or empathy you were feeling? You couldn't quite determine it either.

"Are you okay?" you asked, a natural question, not prying too much.

"Be blunt.  It can't be worse than this," he replied evenly. "But this is my choice; I've decided."

You muttered, your mouth running ahead of you, "But can't it change?"

"What do you mean?"

"I change my mind every day. I think we don't have just one choice in life."

It was oddly profound that the CIA was now giving advice to a criminal like this.

You weren't sure exactly what you were doing, whether you were trying to comfort him or convince him to turn back to the good side. Of course, that was an impossibility.

Nevertheless, you chose to let the silence work, imagining how he was dealing with all of this. To be scared, to be angry, or to just see it as another day in Mexico like any other person in this country.

But you were wrong about all of that.

Turning points in many people's lives often start with something. And in this case, that assassination was the turning point in Amado's life.

And when you uttered the words "change," it made him realize the reality of his situation.

Miguel and Pablo, the two biggest drug lords of this century, had reached the peak of their lives, only to meet a disgraceful end—either death or prison. That was the destiny for anyone who dabbled in the dark business.

Their grand mistake was believing they had so much power and time that they never thought about the ending.

All of this made Amado different from both of them.

He was at his peak, creating his own glorious era, driven by the yearning to create something grand. And now he knew that an end had to come someday. Tomorrow, perhaps, or the next day. Or years from now.

He knew. And he had decided to prepare himself to face it.

Which had become a turning point in your life as well.

"Camila, there's something I want to ask you."

For a moment, your heart skipped a beat. He used that tone as if he was about to break some bad news you didn't want to hear. But sometimes, this might be the best for everyone. And that was what you thought after hearing his next sentence.

"I want you to come with me."

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#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♱

[imgeekgirlfan]

This sounds like bad news, but it seems like no one in Tumblr  likes my Renegada♱ fanfic. Therefore, I'm considering permanently stopping the updates for this fanfic because it seems like no one is reading it anyway.

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