#lalo salamanca imagine

[purplelupins]

Salvador

|Better Call Saul|

Part I Part II

Word count: 17k

Lalo Salamanca x Fem!reader

Summery: Reader just wanted a fresh start, but when she starts working in a care home, it seemed that she bit off more than she could chew when she meets a member of her clients family.

Warnings: (this story has smut but not in part 1), slow burn, age gap, mentions of past domestic violence/toxic relationship, manipulation, intimidation, pet names (niña, niñita, princesita, Cariño, Ratoncito) Spanish (have a translator ready),Lalo kinda comes with his own warnings,

Notes: this is dedicated to my dear friend @mandowifey who was a massive part of the creation of this…couldn’t have done it without you🤍

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Even with a world on fire, we often dare to place our faith in the hands of someone who we hope we are not naive to trust. It is perplexing just what desire and blind devotion will drive a person to do. Even in our wildest dreams we cannot imagine what our actions will bring us, or who.

It is a daring game of chicken, so to speak. Seeing who will break first- you or life. Who will bend. Who will be kinder. Who will show love.

Love in and of itself is a treacherous thing. It’s beauty when it is alive and blazing, and the sorrow it brings when it whithers and putrefies.

And you knew it all.

All too well.

There was something comforting in standing under the baking sun of the southern state of New Mexico. With just a suitcase that held a toothbrush, bandages, $3026.50 and a change of clothes, you felt like a little waif from a book published centuries ago. Malnourished, exhausted, nerves shot half way to hell, and bruises still healing. You hoped there was a childish charm to how you looked, but you knew that hope was silly; you resembled more of a drug addict than a stubborn child that wouldn’t come home for supper.

“-miss?”

The first half of whatever had just been asked of you was lost on you; after you had nearly frozen to the spot after exiting the airport, numerous strangers had stopped to ask if you were alright. You forced your eyes to refocus, and found that you were being spoken to by an older woman who looked half irritated and half perturbed. Despondency had that effect on people.

“…I’m- I’m sorry…what?” You managed. Perhaps the Albuquerque sun had begun to bake your brain.

The woman sighed. She was decidedly more irritated. “Christ, I just asked if you were taking this cab!” She said, nodding to the yellow vehicle that was just several feet from you.

You stared at her, then offered her a small smile and shook your head. “It’s all yours.”

There was an uncomfortable lightness to your voice as you fought to stay connected to your body and not float away to Mars. Even you knew it. You didn’t sound like you. Hell you didn’t even look like you.

The woman said something about you taking long enough to answer something simple, but if you were honest you were proud of yourself for even being able to answer her. Just 10 hours ago you had been unable to even form a sentence as your body was plagued with panic; frantically packing what you needed in the span of 5 and a half minutes while your boyfriend - now ex- had been on the phone in the other room. You could still hear the sound of him yelling your name as you jumped in your car and peeled down the street before he could hurt you anymore.

Your heart still hurt from how hard it had been beating.

The taxi pulled away and you watched it go. A warm breeze slipped up your legs, and once it brushed your finger tips, you felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped from a hundred feet above you with you as it’s sole target.

Your eyes stung.

Your fists clenched.

But you had no more tears. Not for him anyway.

You might morn the death of who you used to be…the bright young girl who had a sparkle in her eyes and had yet to see the devil. Your heart broke when you thought of her.

But there was no blood…no body…nothing left to even hint that she was there to begin with. And there was nothing you could do about it.

•Three months later•

“Mrs. Creaner, I know the water tastes funny but I told you- you can’t keep asking your granddaughter to smuggle in alcohol now hand it over.”

“This is supposed to be a free country…” she grumbled as she rooted around over her thigh in her wheel chair, and produced the flask.

You suppressed a smirk at her antics, and held out your hand.

“Ma’am your granddaughter is 7 years old.” You sighed, handing her a styrofoam cup as she begrudgingly handed you the little metal flask.

“Smarter than a lot of you in here too.” She folded her arms and slumped in her wheelchair, “If you’re going to take that from me at least do your job and take me to bingo.”

You nodded and took the handles of the chair and began to push.

The job opening at Casa Tranquila had been a godsend to you all those months ago. Living out of a cheap motel was not ideal, and working in a comfortable retirement care facility on the outskirts of Albuquerque was just what your nerves needed. It certainly came with its difficulties, namely mediating your emotions and avoiding getting your ass pinched, but it paid your bills and gave you a great sense of purpose. In some way it made you feel as if you actually had a family that cared about whether you woke up in the morning.

It was no dream job, but it was what you needed. It kept you occupied and kept the heavy sense of loneliness at bay.

“- we do have to move you. Hector come on now, it’s just like everyday.” Came the voice of one of the senior nurses, Ellie.

You glanced over your shoulder and watched as she wheeled a very displeased elder man in the same direction as you were walking Mrs. Creaner. With careful steps so as to not trip, you turned and cast the man a greeting glance.

“Good afternoon Hector.” You said simply but cheerfully, then nodded to your co-worker in acknowledgement.

The man’s permenant frown twitched.

Hector Salamanca was a fairly new addition to the home, having been emitted just two months after you had started. And if you were honest, he was disliked; staff and patients found him difficult to deal with- which you found unfair. It wasn’t his fault that he could only communicate via the tapping of a single finger, blinking and limited facial expressions. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t coherent too, you knew very well that whoever Hector was before his stroke, he was still very much present behind those greying brown eyes. Certainly he was a grumpy old man, but if you had been in his position you were certain you wouldn’t exactly be a peach.

If anyone took a moment to watch most of the residences, they’d see just how alive most of them were despite their aging bodies; Hector was no different. He had fellow patients who he disliked; enjoyed knocking various objects over to make nurses have to bend over; he had his specific things he liked and didn’t like.

He was still every bit a red blooded man.

And while you weren’t one to play favourites, he was probably the closest thing to it.

You liked that he didn’t hide himself away. He was brash and blunt in his ways- non-verbal or not. Then there was a loneliness in his life that reflected your own; kindred spirits in a way. It pained you to see it at an old age like his. He had very few visitors, aside from when he had initially been dropped off by two men who must have been identical twins. You knew he couldn’t be all bad, and knew that a great deal of his anger must have come from his lack of contact to what family he had, and his inability to communicate. He was only human.

Just as you had expected, Hector made no move to acknowledge that he had heard your greeting. As per residence policy, each client was called by their first name, but since the first day you met that man, you had noted that he seemed more displeased by the informality. He looked furious when he had been wheeled around that first day and introduced as Hector; corners of his mouth pulled tight and down to his chin, eyes wild, nose twitching. Irate.

Your suspicions were only reinforced when you “accidentally” called him Señor Salamanca; he had actually looked you in the eye. A rare occurrence.

With that level of pride, you pondered that he must have been respected or feared before being placed under your care…or simply had a massive ego. And if he wasn’t around for that much longer and was barely existing, you saw little issue with making him feel like his old self by addressing him more formally.

Hector didn’t like a lot of people. Didn’t tolerate them. But he liked you.

Plus you gave him the best jello flavours.

Once the senior nurse placed him in the spot she deemed appropriate, you watched her walk away before dipping your head down to his level, like you always did.

“Buenos días, Sr. Salamanca.” You said, and smiled when you saw his head twitch ever so slightly in your direction. And that smile only grew when you saw him tap his finger. You hoped it was his way of returning the greeting, either that or he wanted to tell you to shove said greeting where the sun don’t shine.

You hoped he was saying hello. You hadn’t accomplished a great deal in your short life, and you liked to think that making the grouch at work a little happy could be added to your list.

Your days looked very much the same. A nightmare would wake you up at 5am almost every morning, as much as you hated to admit it. You hated how small you felt. Visions of being back with him, under his thumb and living to please him with no favour returned…no love to feel. His voice in your head…his manipulations. You often awoke with your stomach in knots.

You could never get back to sleep after.

By the time the alarm you set sounded at 6am, you would be ready to leave your small apartment. Then it was a half hour drive to work. At Casa Tranquila, you would check in, bring your assigned patients their morning medication and start their routine. The same faces came and went, it was almost a blur some days. But you loved the blur. You needed it. Your mind had only started to heal once your days became blurs that bled into each other, and you were uncertain of what might happen if you changed that.

You pulled your keys from the ignition, and took a long breath deep into your chest. You felt an ache in your chest with how full your lungs were, and only released when you began to feel lightheaded.

Another day.

Having finished with the lunch duties, you took a moment to stretch your back in the nurse’s station before squaring your shoulders like you were tougher than you were. You began your rounds, checking on each elder during visiting hours, and went to enter the main seating area when you stopped short of the simple room.

Your feet ceased to move.

Your eyes went wide.

For the first time since you had met Hector Salamanca, there was someone sitting with him that wasn’t paid to.

A man, to be specific.

He was knelt down in front of Hector with his back to you, and spoke with an almost child-like glee to him. A ringing formed in your ears, and it took you a long minute to finally realize the ringing was not just in your ears at all; the crisp sound of a service bell rang out in the room, and as you stared, you came to find that the sound was coming from…Hector.

Indeed there was a small bell catching the sunlight on the arm of his chair right where his mobile finger usually sat.

You felt happiness fill you as the initial shock subsided. It was a mutual loneliness that had made you take interest in Hector to begin with, and you foolishly hoped that perhaps someone would cure your solitude like this man cured his.

You were staring.

Evidently too long as well, as another harsh ring snapped you out of whatever trance you had been in. Now, however, you could see Hector’s harsh gaze on you- his mouth twitching as he rung the bell again. Clearly having Hector not fully pay attention to him made the man pause whatever he had been discussing. He murmured something to the elder man, and Hector rang his bell again.

You told yourself to just keep walking. But you couldn’t.

The man sat before your patient seemed to catch on, and followed his gaze, which lead to him turning his head, and finally seeing you.

It was his eyes that struck you first.

They glittered like warm honey.

The man looked between you and Hector and murmured something to him, which was met with the usual verbal silence, then he muttered something else and it resulted in a ring. You hoped to God that meant something positive because you had just noticed yet another man standing who you had never seen before standing just a few feet behind the crouched man. He looked very much like some kind of body guard, rather than a friend or family; your heartbeat picked up and you began to wonder just who Hector was. Certainly you had thought he must have been the head of a family and perhaps a business owner, but there was something so militant about the way this man standing there was guarding them.

It couldn’t have been longer than 7 seconds since you had become rooted to the spot, but it certainly felt worlds longer. Once you realized you had frozen, you blinked and forced a polite smile onto your face as you continued your path.

“Buenos días, Sr. Salamanca.” You said as casually as you could, hoping your nerves didn’t seep through. You hoped you would be able to make it past the men without incident, and you thought you had…but then another ring struck your nerves. There was a pause followed by murmuring, which you didn’t understand but went something along the lines of:

“¿Me estás diciendo que te las arreglaste para que esta linda niña cuidara al tío? Creo que pronto tendré que retirarme y unirme a vosotros, ¿sí?” then another few rings followed by a laugh.

His laugh- the man with the glittering eyes.

You had no idea what he had said, but something about the way he said it made a warmth creep up the back of your neck, and spread to your cheeks at the sound-

Snap

You stopped.

Snap

You turned far more jerkily than you wanted, and to your horror, the man crouching was now staring back at you intently with that smile still on his face, albeit more curt. He held his hand out and beckoned you over with two fingers. You swallowed, but fought to keep your face pleasant. Visitors didn’t usually interact with staff unless they needed something, or it was time for them to go…and you hoped this was one of the two.

You came to stand a few feet from the men, wanting to remain respectful, “Hola gentlemen, it’s nice to see Sr. Salamanca having some visitors.” The professional grin on your face didn’t reach your eyes. You were too nervous for that.

“My tio was just talking about you.” He told you brightly, “Says you’ve been looking after him, hm?” The kneeling man seemed to have no issue with dominating a conversation; you chanced a glance at the bald man standing, but he barely reacted. Goosebumps sprang up on your arms when you looked back at Hector’s nephew; unfamiliar with the direct attention.

“Well I…it’s what I’m here for, Señor.” You managed. There was something about this man that made it difficult to look away. The way his dark hair was combed neatly, and how the stripe of grey on the crown of his head swept into a curl that barely stayed back; how his brown eyes looked black in the shadows, and how the deep lines on his face made his expressions so defined; how his smile stretched so charmingly; how when he stared at you it was like only the two of you existed.

He scared you.

And he could tell.

He wagged his finger at you, “Ahh a humble girl, eh? If my tio likes you that’s good enough for me, niña…but you know- this is perfect!” He smiled even wider as he spoke almost animatedly, but you noted how the smile failed to reach his eyes now. “‘Cause now I’ll know just who to come to if my tio needs anything.” The man’s smile fell to rest as he blinked up at you, speaking so casually, yet you couldn’t help but note the menacing undertone of his words. Your brain was working overtime as you tried to piece things together; all you could come up with was that you didn’t want to upset anyone or say the wrong thing. You were certain these men were not your ordinary visitors, and you didn’t want to find out anything beyond that.

“Consider me accountable, Señor.” You heard yourself say.

A moment passed, and you so desperately wanted to break the stare he gave you, but then it as if nothing had happened when his stellar grin returned. He barked out a laugh at you.

“Esta niña, lo juro...” he said to the man standing, then turned back to you, “Eduardo Salamanca, but you can call me Lalo.” He beamed. His smile was infectious and you found the corners of your mouth tugging up a little, despite your nerves.

Like a wolf lulling a lamb into false security.

There was something expectant in his gaze as he told you his name, and you assumed it was him waiting to know yours. Tit for tat. The theatrical, charming nature of him coupled with whatever made his smile resemble a predator’s made your stomach flip. He was both sides of a coin simultaneously, and you struggled to process it.

“Y/n…y/n l/n.” You replied to him. Lalo repeated your name a few times, rolling it around in his mouth. Your eyes felt glazed over as you listened to him; like he was hypnotizing you. You hadn’t even noticed how you were wringing your hands, nor how you hadn’t torn your gaze from his.

Lalo patted his uncle’s arm after a moment, “You said no one’s visited my Tio?” His face turned inquisitive and concerned, though almost cartoonish. Like there was a joke you were missing.

You shook your head as you snapped back to your body. Somehow your anxiety was starting to fade, and you chalked it up to having a name to put to his face- it made him feel more human to you, “No. I- I almost started to wonder if- if he had family, Señor Lalo.”

He nodded, which caused the curl of grey in his hair to finally fall over his forehead. Your eyes instantly latched onto it.

He was handsome.

Then faster than lightning, Lalo turned and shot a look to the man standing, then nodded his head understandingly. Almost as if to check with the man to see if what you said was true.

“That will change…you know, you should see us Salamancas- we breed like rats.” He said proudly, and chuckled.

He had a nice voice. Rough and low with an easiness to it.

You felt your cheeks warm at his statement, then nodded and remembered to blink. “Well…I’m happy to hear that- that people will come t-to see him that is.” You murmured, stumbling to correct yourself.

You watched his smile pull into a boyish smirk and you looked down to wipe away a nonexistent fluff from your uniform.

“I promise, you’ll have to smoke me and Nacho outta here. I’m looking after the family business so you’ll see lots of us.” He laughed, and nodded to the man behind him.

You looked at the other man, and smiled a little as if to aknowledge his presence. The stare he gave back to you was…bordering on sympathetic. Not what you expected.

You suddenly felt as if you were bordering on something you shouldn’t, despite your softness for the elder Salamanca.

You decided to trust your intuition.

“Well…I don’t want to intrude on your visit anymore. I’ll leave you gentlemen to it…Sr.Salamanca’s nurse should be by to take him in a little while.” You gave both men a small smile and nodded to Hector, who frowned deeper at the mention of his caregiver.

Lalo seemed to notice the change, and his smile dropped a little in curiosity. You sighed, and came a little closer to Lalo so no one would hear, “Sr.Salamanca doesn’t like her…and between you and me I think he’ll be even more Uh…vocal about it with this beautiful bell.”

Lalo’s eyes went comically wide, but the smile tugging under his moustache betrayed him. He was ecstatic. “Really? Will that be an issue?”

You noticed he didn’t clarify if he was talking about the bell or the nurse.

His charisma began to draw you back in, and you shook your head, “There won’t be an issue.”

He nodded and clapped his thigh, “Excellent!”

His reaction seemed to put you at ease, not that it should have. This man was playful in a very odd way and you didn’t know if feeling comfortable around him was a good thing. But you weren’t sure how long you would keep up with his banter, so you excused yourself.

“Right, well…enjoy the rest of your visit.” You smiled slightly again at both men, and backed away before turning and walking quickly out of the foyer. Your hands were shaking- you weren’t used to such direct conversation- with a stranger at that.

You heard Lalo say say “Adios!” to you, and you cast a quick smile back, but you didn’t stop. Panic began to rise in you as you recalled the last time someone had shown you such an amount of charm…the bastard had eaten you up and you had had to crawl out of his stomach. And there you were: hiding.

As soon as you were down the hall and out of view, you gasped and braced against the wall; your heart was working over time.

“You alright sweetie?” One of the male nurses stopped next to as you as he passed. A nice older man named Jim.

You sucked in a breath and forced a smile, “Y-yeah, thank you…just one of those days.” You reassured him. The man pursed his mouth, but didn’t press anymore as he nodded sympathetically. It was was well known that you were a private person, and you appreciated when someone respected that.

As your chest slowly unclenched, you felt your head grow light. Your poor nerves were so shot that you truly were unsure as to whether that man was just charming and witty, or if he was just trying to get in your head. You couldn’t tell the difference between a genuine interaction and a narcissistic one anymore.

You rolled his name over in your head, and found that you enjoyed how it sounded.

Lalo…

You found yourself mentally throttling your brain over how it began to assume the worst. That you had chosen to lightly insert yourself into an old man’s life when you shouldn’t have; that you were being selfish. Stupid. Dependant. All of the above. You felt the weight of your guilt strain on your shoulders, and you let it.

You were being selfish and childish. You didn’t have a family, and you needed to stop pretending you did just because an old man didn’t hate you.

A little over a week passed since you met Hector’s eccentric nephew, and you had to admit that he had entered your mind a few times despite you actively not trying to think of that family. You felt a pang of hurt in your chest every time you did. You had no business envying them- it wasn’t your place.

That Wednesday was a very pleasant day; there was a light breeze that cooled the air and dried the sweat that gathered on your brow. You rounded the corner of the main living area that fed out into the patio, and as you stepped out, the fresh air made you inhale deeply. As you looked up and down the outside area, you felt yourself pause. He was back. You were met with the amusing sight of Lalo Salamanca retrieve a flask, pour out the jello vitamin mix that sat in front of Hector, and pour a hefty serving of liquor inside the cup. You almost laughed. These elderly people loved their alcohol.

For a couple seconds, you allowed yourself to take in Lalo’s appearance. You knew he was handsome since you first saw him, but you felt as if you could appreciate just how well he cared for himself now. A rich purple polo that pulled tight around his biceps…neat hair and moustache, a polished gold necklace just peaking out against his chest-

Stop it.

You shook yourself and forced your mind to push any thoughts of him out. Your trust in your ability to judge a character was under great scrutiny every since…since you got away.

This man was charming, and that was it.

It was company policy for no alcohol to be on the premises, but instead of making Hector’s day even more miserable, you let him have a few sips as you stayed just out of their view until Lalo hid the flask. Once you stepped out, you let your professional smile settle onto your tired face.

“Good afternoon Señor Salamanca, Señor Lalo.” You greeted them; your nerves were already starting to amp up in his proximity, but you managed to speak with a little less discomfort than last time.

As if to return the greeting, you heard Hector’s bell sound just as the younger of the two turned to you and smiled, “Ahh the humble señorita.” Lalo leaned an arm over the back of his chair- opening his stance. His voice was a pleasant rumble in the back of his throat. You noted that he appeared to be far more at ease this visit. First visits were often the hardest for family- seeing their loved ones in a nursing-home could be a difficult pill to swallow.

Lalo continued, “You got a pretty sweet deal here.” He look at around appraisingly as he took in the patio. Admittedly it was one of the more favoured sections of the home and recently renovated. But he was right, it wasn’t that bad of a facility.

“I can’t complain too much.” You agreed, and folded your hands in front of yourself as you stood between the men. Lalo’s personality was far louder than what you were used to, and the part of you that craved human connection urned to keep up with him; once upon a time you might have had the ability…but not anymore. You admired how quick and bright-burning he was- like a firecracker.

Lalo smiled. “Polite.”

Your brow furrowed, “Sorry?”

He shook his head- smile growing- and looked at Hector then back to you, “Hey there’s nothing wrong with it- you’re humble too…you some kinda saint? You gotta be to work in a place like this- I’d lose my mind.” He laughed and leaned more into his chair.

His statement made you pause for a moment. It wasn’t that far off from the truth- the need for patience that is.

“Taking care of someone can mean accepting them like a part of your family…there’s a real selflessness that you have to find in you, Señor Lalo. For myself it’s a bit easier than most…I-I don’t exactly have much of a family, so Hector fills a pretty big void at the moment.” You said simply. It was the honest truth. You shared your patient’s happy moments and their worst moments; they trusted you with their well-being, so it was only fair that you cared for them blindly- job or not.

It was no small admission- to say that you were isolated- but Lalo had a way about him that loosened your tongue.

He stared up at you for a moment, then huffed out a laugh, “Be careful with a Salamanca, we bite.” He pointed at you playfully, though you gathered that while he was indeed teasing, there was a more serious connotation to his words.

Lalo’s dark eyes glittered with mirth as he regarded you.

“Even you, Señor Lalo?” You tilted your head to the side slightly, and watched him shyly.

The older man’s smile formed into an amused smirk, “Klah- me? Never.” He scoffed, but his bright eyes betrayed him.

This man was trouble.

Your lips tugged upwards as you nodded to both men; his jest was not lost on you. It was as if he wished you would ask him how hard his bite was, but you knew that would likely be a poor choice on your part. “Prey can bite too, Señor,” you quipped.

Evidently your response surprised the man as his thick brows rose up. You felt regret pull at you for engaging in his game, but you didn’t want to immediately back down. Shock was a nice expression to see on a man so sure of himself. You nodded to both men, and took a step back, “Enjoy your visit, Señors.”

You continued your route, and made your way onto your next check-up; the feeling of eyes burning into the back of your skull followed you as you went, and a few eager dings from Hector’s bell rang in your ears.

When you finished with one of your oldest patients, Thomas Lee - who did not get along with Hector at all- you tentatively looked back at the far table; it was empty now. Even Hector was gone. You sighed and pursed your mouth, knowing you were playing with fire with this man. A part of you hoped that he would stop coming, or visit on your couple days off.

Stupid.

You were being stupid, and that was that.

The day ended like every single one before that. With you and your coworkers exhaused, hungry, covered in sticky grime, and back sore. You stood in front of your locker, taking a drink from your bottle when another attendant you knew walked to hers. Samantha…yes, her name was Samantha.

“Hey.” You greeted her, smiling sympathetically at eachother.

“Going home too?” She asked as he took her hair down from its curly bun.

You nodded and retrieved your bag, hoping you had something in your fridge to eat. “Sure am…”

She unlocked her locker and smiled a little, “Saw you talking to that visitor of Hector’s today…he’s not bad on the eyes hey?” She smiled.

You felt your cheeks flush, “Oh, yeah…hes nice.” You replied, not wanting to get into it…but then a thought crossed your mind. “Sam?” You asked her.

She turned to you and nodded. “Mhm?”

“Do…do you know anything about Hector? Ab-about his family?” You murmured, looking up at her.

Her brows hopped up and she shuffled a little closer to you, “Mr. Salamanca?” She confirmed.

You nodded after a moment, not fully certain you were ready, but your curiosity was too strong.

Sam looked around briefly, “Well…I mean you know we’re not supposed to really ask questions or anything…” she began, “…but…I’ve heard a few things.” Sam nodded her head and you noticed her playfulness lessened.

You turned to her fully now and gave her your full attention…she seemed to understand that you were curious. That, and she had been trying to talk to you properly for months and was likely over the moon that you weren’t being skittish.

“I- I’d like to know…” you said a little more gently than you usually did.

She sighed, and nodded. “Apparently…those guys that dropped Hector off were really strange…didn’t speak, and just gave Ronny- the reception guy, remember he quit last month? Yeah him, anyways…they gave him this folder with all of Hector’s information and there was no spot open for the old fart…but after a few phone calls, there was suddenly a spot open. It was so weird, but- I don’t know…” she stopped her speculation but you wanted to hear more.

“Please- it- it’s okay, this is between us.” You reassured her, and you meant it. You had expected her to just brush you off or say no, but now it was as if the name Salamanca was a curiosity to you all.

A beat passed before Sam finished with her locker and shut it. “It just…I don’t speak much Spanish but they always speak so secretively…just…I don’t know they might just be talking about family gossip but sometimes it’s fun to imagine they’re actually some…I don’t know a mafia or cartel family or something.”

As the words left her mouth, you felt the blood drain from your face. Everything that struck you as strange flashed before your eyes and it began to make sense-

“But honestly they’re probably just weird- you should see my folks, they’re nuts. I just like to make stories up for everyone to make the days go faster! See you tomorrow.” She smiled and walked past you, leaving you there with this new possibility weighing heavy on you.

Once you finally pulled yourself from the locker room, and waved a few dazed goodbyes to the staff you saw, you stepped outside and walked out to the parking lot. Your car keys caught on your nurse’s mask as you pulled them from your bag and you tsked them. You were preoccupied with the task as you made your way in the direction of where you parked, and once you freed them and looked up, you froze in the middle of the parking lot.

You knew that curl of grey anywhere. Lalo stood leaning against your car, with his hands in his pockets and a friendly smile on his face pointed at you. Since meeting him, You had yet to see him stand up, and now at his full height, his sturdy frame overpowered you even from a few meters away. He was tall and broad and confident, and you felt very small all of a sudden.

“So! Where are we going?” He said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Wha-?” You asked as you managed to go closer.

He rolled his eyes “C’mon- you hungry? I’m famished.” He stood away from the hood, and his tone was so persuasive you almost forgot about what Sam had said.

Almost.

You shook your head and tried to be as friendly as you could in an effort to hide how your hands shook, “Really it’s alright, I’m —“

His smile finally dropped. “Get in.”

His statement made you contemplate running. Getting back inside the retirement home and locking yourself in a closet, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t end well. Hell you doubted you’d even make it a few paces from him before his big hand grabbed your hair. So against your better judgement, you nodded and wordlessly handed him the keys.

“There she goes, Atta girl.” He smiled again, and accepted the keys joyfully; this time the creases around his eyes deepened. Lalo slid into the drivers side and started the car. As he went to back out, he cast a look around the inside, and seemed to note that you didn’t take the best care of the car.

“You need a tool box?” He asked.

You buckled yourself in and barely caught what he said as you mentally screamed at yourself for getting in the car. Were you really that stupid? “Wha- huh? Oh-“ you caught where he was looking and cursed yourself for being so sloppy.

You backseat housed several materials you carried with you in case you car broke down -which it had the tendency to do. A pair of wire cutters wrapped in duct tape and some pliers to match, a lug wrench, a jack and a pylon…not to mention a first aid kit and a blanket. “I’m…I uh…just haven’t had the time.” You murmured, “Sorta new here.”

The older man frowned exaggeratedly and rose his brows as if to say “Alright then.” And silently put the car in reverse. He backed out with one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of your seat, and you had no choice but to smell his scent…you didn’t know if it was cologne or something else but he smelled of smoke and whiskey…and something sweet like syrup. Like he had been sitting in front of a fire drinking after dessert.

“So! Why don’t you tell me about yourself.” Lalo navigated easily through the streets, and looked over at you like you were old friends.

You thought for a moment, having taken an interest in a hangnail on your thumb. “Not much to tell, Señor.” You said as you looked up. It wasn’t a lie. Your story was a sad one and not a terribly interesting one at that.

“Cmon.” He dragged the word out, “You said you count my Tio as family…any normal person wouldn’t say that in a million years.” The older man laughed and tilted his head to chase your gaze a little when you averted your eyes.

“Why do you say that?” You asked as you looked down again.

Lalo gave you a pointed look. “Smart girl like you can figure that out, niñita.”

You sighed. It wasn’t as if you could just walk away from the conversation…he had you. Regardless of his motivations, Lalo was undoubtedly protective of his uncle…and you had to respect that. You wished you knew what it was like to have someone so protective, but you could imagine it was liberating.

“You think I have some kind of alterier motive behind my kindness to your uncle.” You said simply, trusting your intuition.

Lalo looked out the window, and you wondered if he had even heard your answer.

“You hungry?” He asked, pointing to a burger joint as he already turned his indicator on to pull in.

The sudden change in topic made you blink, your brain lagging. “I-…sure. Don’t stop on my account though I have food at home.” You squeezed your hands out of anxiousness, but he was already going to the drive thru. You had completely forgotten about how hungry you were for the last hour when you saw him in the parking lot. Now seeing the menu, your stomach growled.

“Whatdya want?” He asked expectantly.

It felt so…domestic. You had gone from being certain you might end up being interrogated in a warehouse to him taking you for food in a matter of seconds. You felt your stomach tighten with unease at the memory of the last person who had taken you through a drive thru; that time however you had been disassociating so badly you didn’t even remember ordering nor eating. Ungrateful he had called you.

Snap snap

Your eyes refocused and saw a large hand in front of your face having just snapped a couple times to get your attention.

You swallowed and sighed to steady yourself.

“What’s good here?” You asked, turning to him.

One of his full brows was raised at your odd behaviour, but his face went back to his playful demeanour instantly. “Depends…but their number 2 and number 8 are good.”

You nodded thoughtfully, “What do you get?”

He held up two fingers, pulling the car up through the drive thru to the speaker, “I’m from the south though so I like to add extra spice. Burns your mouth right off but god it’s worth it, you know?” The lines around his mouth and eyes deepened when he smiled and spoke.

Your couldn’t help but return the smile a little at him. You gathered he could probably befriend anyone he set his sights on. A people person…regardless of how intimidating he was.

“I’ll get the same…but um, I think I’d like to keep my mouth.” You said the last part a little shyly, hoping he wouldn’t take offence.

Lalo laughed, “Too bad, I was looking forward to seeing how red your pretty face would get!”

You…were not expecting that. You didn’t have time to reply or ask him to repeat himself before he was leaning out the window and adding extra fries to your order.

“You ever been to Mexico?” Lalo asked as he started driving again up to the window.

You shook your head, “No…haven’t been to a lot of places.”

He gasped, “No! Really? Ahh man, you’d love it. Best food in the world.”

When the window came into view you instinctively reached for your purse when you saw Lalo already producing a $20, and re-pocketing a wad of cash. He tsked you when he noticed you.

The woman at the window handed him the two bags of food and drinks and he smiled charmingly. “Gracias!” Lalo beamed, depositing your order in your lap, then began his way through the city again.

“Plain number 2 for you and fun number 2 for papi, you like orange? I got you an orange soda, you’re gonna love it. Used to smuggle these bastards when I was a kid…my Tio beat the shit outta me for it.” He laughed as he handed you the drink; shaking his head as he steered the car one handed and rifled through his paper bag with the other.

You accepted the orange coloured soda, brows shooting up. He was…generous. The smell of the burger hit you, and you felt your mouth water. It had been ages since you had a proper meal, even if it was take-out. You tentatively took your food out, and took a bite. You swore stars erupted in front of your eyes as the taste filled your mouth; pleasure sensors in your brain lighting up.

The older man beside you watched you out of the corner of his eye as he ate and drove. A proficient multitasker. You were hungry. Seemingly non-threatening…skittish…but you weren’t off-putting. Tired. Definitely tired.

Lalo pulled off the main road and began the drive into the neighbourhoods; he continued to take the occasional bite of his food as he drove. You wondered how he could be so relaxed constantly. You wondered if he had a single tense bone in his body. He was always at ease…like he was always 10 steps ahead of everyone. He was handsome, and you wondered if he used that as a distraction for what lay underneath; perhaps he was a calculating, plotting and scheming man under all the smiles and goofy theatrics…

Your food was gone within 5 minutes.

When Lalo finally looked over at you, he barked out a pleased laugh when he saw the empty wrapper and your last few fries in your hand.

“Shit, I’d better be careful or you might eat me!” He joked, and took a sip of his soda.

You hadn’t realized it but your shoulders had dropped and your fists had unclenched. You were relaxed.

And the older man beside you knew it.

“Tell me…what do you know about us Salamancas.” He said as if he was commenting on the weather.

You knew the question was coming, how could he not ask?

You put your drink down, and thought carefully. “You’re all very…intense.” You replied.

Lalo laughed, “Good one. What else?”

This time you fiddled with a napkin still in your lap. You didn’t want him to think you actually knew anything, because you honestly didn’t. You used your brain and speculated and observed, but you didn’t know much at all. You knew Hector likes grape jello more than raspberry and that Lalo’s necklace was that of Saint Anne- the Mother of Santa Maria…but that was the extent of what you knew for certain.

“You run some kind of business…here in Albuquerque…and I…I think you’re not just some nobody with an uncle in a nursing home…” You murmured almost to yourself. You half hoped he would ask you to repeat yourself so you could come up with something else…but his ears were as sharp as a fox.

“Ahh see, clever girl. I thought so.” His smile slowly faded into a calm line. “Why do you care for my Tio? Don’t tell me he’s your type- you’ll break my heart.” Lalo’s cheeky grin came back.

The jest did lighten your anxiety a little, just as the food had, but you noted that he ignored the mention it the business. He was evasive. And he was charming while he did it.

You knew Lalo had his doubts about you…even if it was for the home itself and not just you, you were th# lucky bastard who he had chosen to interrogate. If you wanted him to understand exactly why it was that you were so at ease with caring for grumpy elderly people - specifically Hector- you needed him to see your perspective. If this was any other relative of a patient, you would have jumped out of the car or booked it before he could have even gotten you inside…but you had a nagging feeling that the only way this would end well was if you saw it through. No matter how painful it was.

“You didn’t see him for the last 2 months, Señor…” You said gently, “He’s…he’s been alone. Completely. No visitors, no friends amongst the other patients…he’s- well non-verbal patients have a difficult time as it is…but paralysed one’s have it even harder…and I- well…I don’t exactly have anyone…at all really. Don’t have contact with anyone so…I think there’s just a certain level of recognition between people who are alone. I’ve been looking after Hector for two months now…you don’t know how hard it is to see him sit alone during visiting hours- for any of my patients that have to do that for that matter. I wouldn’t wish loneliness on my worst enemy, Señor. He didn’t have anyone and if he died tomorrow I wouldn’t sleep knowing he didn’t at least think someone cared enough to look after him, blood related or not.”

You meant it. You knew your fate was likely destined to be a lonely one, but if you could change that for someone else, then you were going to do your damned best…of course you had to chose a more complicated person but it wasn’t as if you were a terribly lucky person.

Lalo didn’t take his eyes off the road, and it wasn’t until the car stopped that you realized you were outside your little apartment building. Lalo tapped on the steering wheel for a moment, then he turned in his seat to face you.

“You mean that?” He asked, turning his gaze to you.

You went to open your mouth but he gave you a look that pinned you to the spot. He didn’t need to say anything for him to convey “don’t fuck around with me.”.

“You seem to be a busy man, Señor…maybe a wife or even a family,” You mused aloud while you ripped a piece of napkin. Your distracted gaze meant you missed how Lalo’s nostrils flared when you mentioned him having a family, “You must have a comfortable life…one way or another. But not everyone has that. A lot of people don’t. I…I don’t have much…my work is my life right now. Sure they’re not the most lively people to engage with but my patients mean a lot to me…because they take up a lot of my life…and after- well…right now I don’t mind it.” You said with conviction, then sighed, “Sounds sad now that I say it aloud…but don’t doubt me.” You turned to look at Lalo in those dark eyes of his, “Don’t you dare doubt me.”

As you spoke, Lalo’s mouth faded into a firm line under his moustache. But even then, his eyes glittered. He was quiet for a few moments, then he hummed.

“You got a mouth on you, kid.” He rumbled.

You held his stare for a moment. You were certain you had crossed a line with telling him off.

Then, just when you were certain he might jump on you or worse, he broke out in a laugh and smile, smacking the wheel in amusement, “I see why Hector likes you. You got a bite for being a ratoncito…I’d hate to see someone knock your teeth out.” He dropped your keys in your hand and in one fluid motion opened his door and stepped out.

His sense of humour was borderline morbid, but seeing him smile while saying it more reassuring than him not.

You followed suit, and stepped out of the car; Lalo joined you on the sidewalk as he seemed to inspect the neighbourhood. Then as he stood there with his hands at his sides, you remembered that he had no way of getting back to his own car at the nursing home.

“I- Thank you for driving me home, Señor…can I- can I call you a cab?” You didn’t know what else to say. This man had practically interrogated you, bought you dinner, and drove you home. You didn’t know what to do with an interaction like that; we’re you supposed to run and hide or thank him?…or both? You didn’t know why, but regardless of his intentions, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to be scared of him…not really. He was intimidating and imposing, certainly, but it wasn’t as if he was threatening you.

You hated that you couldn’t come to a concise evaluation of the man.

Lalo shrugged and looked down at you. “Nah.” He said playfully.

Your brows scrunched up in confusion and you were about to protest, but then a red car pulled up almost directly behind him with the same man who had been standing with him that first day. Nacho? Nacho.

“Señor Lalo?” You called as he opened the door. The older man turned to you and looked at you expectantly.

“What, still hungry?” He replied.

You forced yourself to look him in the eye.

“If you insist upon giving Hector alcohol…I suggest the second to last table on the patio towards the west. Much fewer eyes.” You said simply.

Lalo smiled widely and pointed his index finger at you. He did that often, you noticed. “I’ll pour you one next time, eh?” He laughed.

You smiled a little. “I don’t think that would end well.”

“I look forward to it!” He smiled even wider and you pursed your lips to keep from returning it. You didn’t want him to know that he was wrapping you around his finger whether you liked it or not.

Lalo sat in the the car, and he waved briefly before they pulled away and left you there with your head still reeling. You didn’t even remember walking up to your apartment or undressing or getting into the shower…but there you were under the warm stream of water trying to understand and rationalise what had just transpired. You were frightened, then at ease, then thankful, then suspicious, then open, then…you head spun. You had become to accustomed to your little quiet bubble with minimal interactions outside of it…and this man had forced his way through it like a freight train.

And what frighted you the most was that you didn’t want him not to.

Your hands shook as you remembered the last time someone had seemed so charming and sweet. You rolled your eyes.

Arms length. You would keep this man at arms length- just like you did with almost everyone else.

Three weeks passed before you saw Lalo Salamanca again.

It wasn’t as if you expected to see him often, or even at all…but the man had a certain way about him that made you miss his presence. He was so all-consuming and confident that it was noticeable when he wasn’t there. You also noticed how Hector’s mood began to drop again. You didn’t blame him.

In an attempt to make the man a little easier to handle, you started teaching yourself some simple Spanish when you had the time. It helped greatly that several clients and staff members spoke it well, and they humoured you in teaching you a few things each day. You supposed they were mostly taking pity on you, but you didn’t mind too much.

You started to feel a little more normal since coming to the scorching city…like you were starting to grow away from where you had run from. You even made a joke that made Jim laugh.

In the back of your mind, you did feel something odd though. Like there was something in your peripheral that you just couldn’t catch. You had sworn that you’d seen the same car on your route for a few days…but you also knew that your paranoia was still very present.

By the second week, you begun to notice how much the language helped around the home. Staff taught you basic things that you said day to day, and your patients helped with more conversational language…your empty head was thankful for the distraction and soaked it up like a sponge. You were tired of the nervous and stressful thoughts that usually occupied the space.

It was early on a Friday when you heard the unmistakable sound of Hector’s bell ringing. You hoped it was that he had gotten his favourite breakfast and not that he had been seated beside someone he didn’t like- you gadnt had enough coffee yet to deal with angry seniors.

There was very little to do following breakfast as the clients enjoyed some free time before activities started; you indulged your curiosity and followed the ringing sound. You sought it out until you came to the patio, and you felt a tiny smile on your lips when you looked past the array of wheelchairs and nurses; there at the second to last table sat two very engaged Salamancas facing away from the entrance you came from.

You saw Lalo give his uncle the occasional sip from the styrofoam cup on the table, and you already knew that was no vitamin mix in there. As you inconspicuously made your way over, checking on a few clients as you went, you began to notice just how tense Lalo seemed from behind. You didn’t want to think that you knew he body language perfectly, but for someone who was usually aloof in his mannerisms, having tight shoulders was far more noticeable.

You slowed your steps once you got closer; they were in conversation. A one sided one but you knew they communicated regardless of Hector’s muteness.

Then you made the poor decision to listen. Your Spanish was very juvenile, but you had come to pick up on a lot - especially phrases and words that were similar to English. Which was why you started to realise that what you were listening to Lalo say was not meant to be heard by anyone but his Tio.

With what you knew and could piece together, you heard a few words that sounded familiar enough; secreto, hombre pollo, establecimiento, restaurante, and quemar. The last one you knew very well thanks to an elderly woman named Pricilla pouring hot tea into the lap of an elderly man named Jerry -evidently his admission of love to her was false and she found out- and his cries of “Quemar!” still rang in your ears. Your mind worked to add everything together and from what you could gather was that there was a restaurant of some kind that could very well end up burned to the ground…and you were fairly certain that Lalo disliked the owner or manager.

Hector’s dinging continued, and you could almost taste the tension growing.

You were about to take the last few strides right up to them, but one word stopped you.

…Cártel.

Every muscle in your body froze simultaneously.

It was no confirmation, but it might as well have been.

It fit.

The respect Hector seemed used to, the rumours, Nacho standing like a guard dog, the lack of visitors, the sudden admission of Hector into the home, the low conversations…you thought back to when he had driven you home and added intimidation tactics to the list. The wad of cash in Lalo’s pocket too.

Then, you felt yourself unclench and a morbid sense of peace washed over you. It wasn’t as if you were reassured; it was that you were still alive. It didn’t mean a lot, but it meant that they either liked you, or had a better use for you…and by god you hoped that use was simply to look after Hector and not to swallow baggies of drugs to smuggle across the border.

And of all people, you had chosen them to befriend.

“There she is!”

You refocused your eyes and as your gaze landed on the man with the skunk stripe on his temple, you let a polite grin grace your features. He was half turned in his chair to greet you- that smile already pulling under his groomed moustache.

“Señor Salamanca, I see you’re enjoying your special juice.” You gave both men a knowing look, then turned back to Lalo, “Señor Lalo, it’s been a little while since I saw you last. I hope you’ve been alright.” You heard yourself say.

You supposed there was no point in trying to run. They had you, and you had let them reel you in; there was no reason to be cold to them. It wasn’t as if you were a cookie cutter Mary-sue yourself.

“Ahh you know how it is…la vida es una locura.” He waved his hand aloofly, resting his arm over the back of his chair. You noticed that he did not elaborate nor answer your query.

“I think I have an idea.” You confirmed both his English and his Spanish.

The easy smile on Lalo’s face seemed to go still. It no longer reached his eyes, and you took a little reckless satisfaction in that.

“Really?” He asked with a prodding tone. You had a feeling he was quick to catch your double meaning.

You smiled tightly, adjusting Hector’s chair since his nurse hadn’t. “Truly.” You replied. “You must be busy…Business doesn’t run itself, I’m sure.” You were walking on ice, and you knew it…but you enjoyed poking at the beast a little.

Lalo’s lips parted at your quip, then he barked out a laugh and pointed at you, “You got some eyes on you.”

You couldn’t remember the full story of Icarus, but you knew he died because he flew too close to the sun regardless of his fathers warnings…and you felt very much like that foolish Greek man. Lalo was a scorching flame and you were standing far too close.

“Always good to see you, Señor Lalo…enjoy your visit.” You nodded to Hector who had been watching the exchange between the two of you, and he dinged his bell at you once.

“Adios.” Lalo gave you a two fingered wave, and you excused yourself.

As soon as your back turned from them, your hands began to shake; adrenaline moved through your blood like a poison or antidote. You didn’t know which.

Jim passed by you with a greeting smile and nod, and you schooled your face quickly. “Could you take Thomas into the bingo room? It’s 2:30.” He said to you, and you welcomed the task to ground you.

“Sure thing.” You murmured.

You didn’t fully remember the rest of the day- you were too busy trying to remember everything you had heard Lalo say to his Tio…jotting things down on sticky notes with poor spelling and guessed words. You almost felt…responsible for what you heard. You knew you were in deep, and you knew that by being curious you were digging yourself even deeper, but somehow you couldn’t stop. It was a sick need to know exactly what you were dealing with.

The day ended like every single one before it; you were exhaused and aching and only had a few thoughts in your head and most of them were of how comfortable your bed would be once you got home. The only difference that day was your anxiety over the notes you had made that day- hoping you didn’t forget any.

You swore under your breath when your keys once again were caught on something in your bag-

“Fancy seeing you here, niña.”

Your head snapped up despite you trying to keep yourself as calm as possible. You swore the older man just liked making you jump.

“Do you practice those lines in the mirror Señor Lalo?” You asked softly, tilting your head up to look at him; Lalo was leaned against your car just as he had taken to doing now.

“You wound me!” He gasped, placing his hand on his chest.

“How long have you been out here?” You asked, standing almost toe to toe to him as he refused to move from his place.

You knew he likely wanted something, and he was using his perfected charm and relentlessness to get it. You internally braced yourself for him to tell you to get in the car again…that he knew you knew more than you let on…and that you should make peace with whatever god you had before putting an extra hole in your head. You didn’t want to think the worst of him and his family, but if that did indeed happen, you wouldn’t be shocked.

But Lalo didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything at first. His smile didn’t falter, though it did lower a little to sit comfortably under his moustache. You watched as he unfolded one of his arms from across his chest and extend his hand to you- what was in it more specifically. There was a little yellow piece of paper folded between his forefinger and middle finger.

“No bedtime stories alright?” He pointed at you with a teasing and cheeky grin on his mouth as he winked down at you.

You took the paper, and felt his skin brush yours for half a second- he was warm. You chose to ignore that, and you focused on unfolding it. It was just a number. His. He had given you his phone number. A cartel phone number. Your brain started reeling again. Then, as you looked at it, you make a mental note that the writing was slanted the opposite way than you usually saw, then you thought for a moment.

He was left handed.

You grinned to yourself at the realisation. You didn’t know why you saved that information, but it made the enigmatic man in front of you seem more human- like knowing he had a belly button or that he had baby teeth that fell out at one time. It was perhaps childish but you liked knowing more about him.

“I-…Thank you.” You said as you placed it neatly into your purse. Once upon a time you would have refused the number and told him it was alright- that you didn’t need it, that if he wanted to get in touch with Hector he could go through the home….but you supposed you knew better now. You knew he didn’t take no for an answer, and you supposed you should show some respect to him for giving you something so personal.

“Atta girl. Don’t work too hard, eh?” He finally moved out of your way and began back to his own -much nicer- car.

“Likewise!” You called to him and he seemed pleased with your answer as he smiled.

You watched the older man get inside his Monte Carlo, and you mirrored him. Your car was hot and the seat radiated unwanted warmth into your back, but you could barely focus on that. You pulled out, and passed his as you went to the exit. Lalo watched you go, and while you waved, he returned it with two fingers extended up from the wheel.

You knew you had errands to run, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to. The notes you had made yourself were burning holes in your pockets, and your want to know what they meant was outweighing your need for groceries and laundry detergent.

In fact, you were so preoccupied with getting home that you didn’t even notice the car that was following you; just as it had been for weeks.

The sticky notes sat arranged neatly on your floor, and your computer stared back at you as you considered your options.

Option 1: try to find proper translations of what was said and risk knowing too much and possible death.

Option 2: tear the papers up and pretend you heard nothing and act like the Salamancas are just an honest business owning family…and possible death because you were naive and didn’t know what you were getting into.

You felt your eye twitch.

Both such tempting options.

But the more you thought, the louder that one word became.

Cartel.

You really know how to pick ‘em y/n…

You sighed and rolled your shoulders as you began typing. You knew that whatever translator you could find wouldn’t be perfect, but you just needed enough to understand. The English to Spanish dictionary you had bought two weeks ago sat open beside you are you poured over the notes you had made. The more you typed and searched and double check, the more your mind began to race- evidently there was indeed more to that family than you had anticipated when you initially befriended their patriarch.

You stared at the translated sentences now, and heaved a sigh.

“We need to burn that restaurant to the ground. I’ll burn it like last time, uncle.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“The chicken man’s establishments are blinding him, can’t see past his greed.”

“He thinks his secret is so fantastic.”

You knew they weren’t perfect translations, but you got the message. There was unrest, and Lalo was sent to deal with it. Whoever this “chicken man” was, he was causing problems.

You let your eyes glaze over as you started to think.

A restaurant.

You checked your notes.

“Restaurants.” Plural.

So a chain of restaurants.

With chicken?

Chicken was a code name? No…Lalo wouldn’t do code names…he mocks people and pokes at their weaknesses, but he’s not the CIA or FBI. He was being literal when he called him the “Chicken man.”

Did he smuggle drugs in chickens? Use it as a cover?

Chicken is their speciality?

You stared at your original note with Spanish.

“Los pollos” …you had seen that somewhere before. You felt your brain stretch as you tried to recall. A restaurant…Los pollos…you started to run the two ideas around in your mind.

Restaurant…Los pollos…restaurant…Los pollos-

Your head snapped up and you frantically scrambled over to your pile of spam mail that you had been ignoring. You knew that name. You did.

You grabbed a chunk of the mail and started sifting through it carefully, scanning every new cellphone, ever greasy pizza place, every-

Your hand gripped blue and yellow ad a little tighter.

The two chicken logo stared back at you.

Los Pollos Hermanos.

No. There was no way.

You couldn’t help the little laugh that came from your chest- either from stress or shock, you weren’t sure. Perhaps a mix of both.

You had driven past it a few times. It was always so clean looking, and you remembered the nice smell you always caught through your window when you passed by it.

You were about to tell yourself that you were being delusional, and that you were too invested in this…but then you supposed the saying of “it’s always the quiet ones” could apply to more than just people. Nice, cookie-cutter restaurants could perhaps be fronts for a drug dealing cartel.

The initial shock began to wear off, and you slowly started to look over what else you had translated.

“I’ll take care of it.” Lalo had said.

Burn the restaurant down, more like…

You wondered what he was capable of. Had he killed people? How many?

Your thoughts strayed to the man himself.

Trouble. That was what you first thought of him.

You thought about his charm and charisma…how he carried himself. He was a confident man in every sense. He adapted his tactics to fit the people he wanted something from…you knew he used it on you too. He was kind and a little pushy but not enough to scare you. He bought you food and drove you home with no immediate expectation…he made you smile and welcomed you. He made you feel seen. Criminal or not…he saw you.

A stupid idea crossed your mind. You knew you were in deep already, and with each passing day it was as if you took a shovel and continued to dig deeper. The thought you had was fuelled purely by your own involvement with the Salamancas and juvenile selfishness.

A stupid impulse to help the two people who made you feel like a human.

Without another thought, you grabbed your bag, checked the stove clock, and were in your car within 5 minutes. You didn’t even bother the change. The route that took you by Los Apollo’s was almost muscle memory, and you were able to let your mind wander as you went. Anything to keep you distracted from what you were doing.

It was closing time once you reached the restaurant. Lights were being shut off, and you could see several workers leaving, and a few more mopping the floors. As you pulled into a parking spot across the street to watch, you noted that there was a level of order to the way duties were carried out. It was methodical and you wondered what kind of training these kids went through…

Every so often, you would see an older man come out to the front and inspect something. His back was straight was he moved just as carefully as the staff cleaned; he was in a yellow dress shirt and tie- nothing significant. The manager or owner you assumed. Your interest was peaked.

You sat there for two hours until almost every single person left. Almost. You waited an extra 20 minutes before leaving, and you were glad you did. If you had left after that those two hours, you wouldn’t have seen that same older man you have observed off and on for 120 minutes exit the building, only now he resembled almost an entirely different person. He was in a sharp black suit, and the change had you so distracted that you didn’t even catch the bulky, black SUV pull in around where the man stood off to the side of the building. Of course, it could have just been nothing- it wasn’t up to you to judge what someone looked like or did after work…but things were clicking together far too easily for you to just gaslight yourself into thinking everyone was Mr.Rogers.

After what you heard Lalo say, you felt your gut sink as you decided that you were indeed not looking at an average business owner. Your I tuition had let you down before, but something about the heat of Albuquerque had you seeing people much more clearly…and if Lalo wanted this man gone, then you had a sneaking suspicion that was a big deal.

The black SUV drove away with the man in it, and you decided that was enough for one night. All at once, your suspicions and thoughts and curiosities were all but confirmed; all you needed was a sign on that man’s back that said “You were right”. You drove home, and welcomed the sight of your small apartment. A morbid part of you half expected someone to be waiting for you when you got back…someone who saw you watching…or perhaps even Lalo himself- perhaps you had become a loose end? But there was nothing. No one waiting for you…just your quiet 400 square feet. Your thoughts were whirling, and sleep seemed like a far away fantasy as you sat on your couch and stared at a crack in the paint.

You had indeed gotten mixed into something far bigger than you- there was no denying that anymore. However, now that you had very nearly completely solidified everything you had wondered, you knew there was no chance in backing out now. You could certainly play dumb for a while…but Lalo was so smart it scared you, and he would figure it out sooner or later.

So you kept digging.

Against your better judgement, you repeated your stakeout the following night. You sat there with a container of takeout, and watched closely. Just like the night before, the business ran, closed, was cleaned and shut up like clockwork.

Methodical.

Careful.

It was fascinating.

This time, however, that older man you had watched last time left in a car already parked there, and it looked far more civilian. You supposed it would draw suspicion if he constantly left work in a black suv. You almost laughed. It was all so ludicrous.

You felt like you were having a strange dream instead of your more constant nightmares. It was far more enjoyable but no less concerning. Where you usually woke up with a tight chest and heart beat so fast it hurt; sweat on your skin and hair sticky, you hope that perhaps if this was a dream that you might wake up and laugh at the idiocy of it all. How silly you were in it. But the more you sat there in your car, and as you drove home, and showered and ate and stared out your window…you started to realise that you were in no dream.

You really were being an idiot. A stupid, impulsive traumatised idiot.

Two days went by after your last visit to the restaurant. Two days of contemplation.

You knew why you were doing those things. You did. But you still found yourself asking yourself why. It was like you craved the anxiety or the adrenaline that came with doing something you know could end badly. What did that say about your mental state?

The file in your hand sat open as you stood behind the reception desk. You had been trying to focus on reading it for two minutes but your eyes repeatedly unfocused as your mind strayed. You just needed to check one of the client’s family member’s number, but you couldn’t seem to even pull yourself together enough for that. You blew the strand of hair that had come free and hung in front of your eyes for the fifth time; you had given up trying to move it.

You heard the main door open and you briefly looked up out of habit, but you took a second glance when you saw that familiar face walk through.

“Good morning Señor.” You said, brows raised in surprise as something stirred in your chest at the sight of his confident strides. This was the first time you had actually seen him enter- most of the time it was like he just materialised out of nowhere.

Lalo rounded the desk to where you were coming out and leaned against it. “Do you know that they’re charging 25¢ more for parking here? It’s criminal, man.” He shook his head.

His statement made a little smile escape you but you schooled it fast.

“I apologise, would you like a word with the owner?” You asked with a little sarcasm, “I’m sure you could talk some sense into him.”

He nodded as if weighing the option, then waved it off and looked around the foyer. “How’s my tio?” He asked calmly, “The old dog up yet?” Lalo looked back at you and flicked his gaze between your eyes. You couldn’t look away. Caught.

You finally tried to tuck the stay hair away again to no avail, and swallowed, “He’s in the activities room. He tipped two full cups of juice over this morning already to look at nurse’s asses when they bent over.” You said as straight faced as you could, though the image had made you giggle to yourself earlier.

Lalo chuckled, “Ese perro viejo no cambia...no harm done, eh?” He reached out and tucked the piece of your hair back behind your ear, then casually started to walk in the direction of the activity room and you took that at your cue to follow him. You had gone still when he had touched you, and you did your best to not let on how shocked you were by the gesture.

Lalo was speaking about something, but while you wanted to listen, you couldn’t quiet find it in you to pay attention. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interesting, or that you didn’t care…it was that you had a startling realisation. You had missed him. That was what you had felt when you saw him…it was happiness. The pleasure of seeing him again. Then when he had moved you hair, you realised how badly you had wanted to lean into his palm.

It startled you.

You scolded yourself. It was a a fantasy. That was it. You were just latching onto him because he spoke to you…hell you might have done the same to the greeter at a supermarket if he was nice enough. It was silly. Just like you.

You walked quietly until you came close to the door, then you stopped and let him go ahead. “Disfrute de su visita, señor.” You said, and the older man paused. Lalo turned to you, but you were already starting to walk past him.

“Gracias, Niña.” He called and you turned and nodded.

You didn’t turn around again, but Lalo watched you walk away for a moment. You didn’t need to see him to know it- his gaze burned. The older man stood there for a moment longer and flexed his hand. You were trouble.

That night, you sat in your car, parked on the street just out of the ring of the fluorescent street lamp light; eyes unfocused, medical mask in hand. It was 3am, and you hadn’t slept a wink. All you could think of was what you were very ready to do.

Another ten minutes went by before you refocused your vision and blinked. You looked across the street, and stared at the empty restaurant. It had been vacant for hours- the only movement you saw were the odd couple pulling into the parking lot for a quick drunken blowjob. Besides that, it was just you and the task you had given yourself.

Breaking and entering wasn’t a skill you appreciated having…but thanks to your ex, you did. He had taken to harvesting copper wires when money got tight…and he had always coerced you into coming with him despite your discomfort and anxiety. “You n me, baby, c’mon.” He would say as he dragged you out of the car. But you always had the sense that it was only you and him until you got caught. Asshole.

You sighed and threw your door open. You might now have known a lot, but you knew how to open a lock and mess with wiring without getting yourself fried in the process. That was enough.

With those old wire-cutters of yours in hand and mask on, you threw up your hood, and moved with the shadows. You rounded the restaurant, and snuck to the back where the staff entrance was locked up well. You half wished that the lock would have been enough to deter you…that you didn’t know how to pick a lock at all. But it didn’t, and you did.

You reached into your pocket, and took a couple small gadgets that you still had from the asshat, and began fiddling with the thick padlock. Your heart was thudding in your ears while you worked away.

What are you doing?

You screamed at yourself mentally, wishing you had an answer to your internal question but you came up with nothing. Only that you needed to do something.

Click

A sigh of relief huffed from your mouth when the lock popped open. Your shaking hands quickly slid it out of place, and you were about to push on the door when you wondered if they had a security alarm set in place. It was entirely possible. But you knew you had your hands covered in gloves and your car not too far if the cops were alerted.

You decided that even if there was an alarm you had enough time to run. With another deep breath, you tugged on the handle of the door, and pulled. To your good fortune, there was indeed no additional alarm.

Once the relief faded, and your focus returned, you made quick work of finding the electrical box. It was on the wall just down from the back door. You thanks god that it was small. You carefully opened it, and stared at the web of wires and switches that greeted you. You groaned a little, and looked at the pliers in your hand, then back at the wires. Your hands trembled more now than you recalled they used to. You supposed your body was forced not to show weakness in front of him…

You shook your head. “Focus.”

Just to be safe, you flicked off a few of the switches that looked to be connected to the wire sets you were eyeing as your target. The last thing you wanted was to get zapped and pass out. It wasn’t as if you were going to clip any…you didn’t want things to completely stop working. Just a few mistakes that would cause a big enough issue for the restaurant.

A half hour passed before you were finally content with the work your had done. Indeed, the web of wires before you now had exactly three faults that would slowly weaken and cause issues throughout the restaurant. Machines not working, and if left long enough they would likely cause a fire. It would mean a plethora of further issues too if an anonymous tip was called in regarding a poor and unsafe work environment.

With a deep breath and a few prayers, you flipped the power back on. The emergency light turned on and the box in front of you fizzed for a moment with the newly damaged wiring, but to your relief nothing exploded.

Your nerves started to come back now that you were finished. You flicked your eyes around and patted yourself down to ensure you left nothing behind, but just as you were doing so, you heard voices. A shot of fear surged through you, and your fight or flight kicked in. The latter won. You were out the back door within seconds and snapping the lock back into place as your mind went into hyperdrive. Your blood ran cold as you heard footsteps rounding the building; you breath felt too warm against your mask and your fingers barely managed to get the lock in place before you had to bolt. You hid in the shadows and crept along the side of the building until you could see your car and you ran. Your heart beat as fast at your legs were moving, and you didn’t stop until you were behind the wheel, and driving away. You felt like you were missing something, but you couldn’t stop to check even if you wanted to.

The sun had risen long ago, and you half wished you had to get ready for work…anything to get yourself busy and distracted from what you had done that night. It was a warm afternoon, and your hands were clammy as you sat on your couch with your phone sitting in front of you and the thick Albuquerque phonebook beside your thigh.

Just pick it up. Pick. It. Up.

Pick it up.

Pick-

You sighed and scratched your head before snatching the receiver up dialling the number you had your finger on in the phonebook.The ringing set your nerves alight as you waited. The monotonous tone lulled your for a moment, so when someone picked up, you almost jumped out of your skin. The person greeted you and introduced themselves with a name you didn’t hear. “How can I help you?” They asked.

You swallowed, but you had to do this unless you wanted the problem you had created to get even worse. “Hello, I-I’d like to make a complaint regarding unsafe working conditions? No, I’d like to remain anonymous please…Yes…yes that’s right. Huh? Oh, at Los Pollos Hermanos.”

“BELOVED LOS POLLOS HERMANOS UNCOVERED”

It was on the front page two days later. Evidentially a tip had been called in that there was severe malpractice in the restaurant, and after a health inspector had been sent…they had found exactly that. Issues with basic wiring- a truly unsafe working environment. Due to something so simple being so wrong, every other aspect of Los Pollos was thus being investigated, and the business had been shut down until further notice.

It was the talk of the nursing home when you came to work, and you forced a look of surprise as people groaned about it. However, while you did feel a small sense of guilt…you couldn’t hide the creeping satisfaction that began to settle in you. It had worked.

There was the tiniest secret smile on your face that got you a few strange looks, but you brushed it off with a “I just slept well.” A part of you was mortified that you had done such a thing…worrying that somehow they knew it was you and that police officers would pull up at any moment to arrest you…but it never happened.

You carried on your day like any other, and you began to seek out Hector in hopes that he had somehow heard what had happened…or perhaps that you could tell him yourself. Then as you walked, you began to feel worry creep into your thoughts.

What if I crossed a line?

What if I ruined one of their plans?

What if Lalo had wanted to be the one to take care of the restaurant?

You started to wring your hands as you walked out to the patio, but your head snapped to a table where you heard a laugh you knew very well. There was no coincidence that Lalo was sat there with his uncle that day- you knew that. And judging by the ringing of Hector’s bell, he was in a good mood.

You weren’t sure that you were ready to speak to him after what you had done…you were filled with so much uncertainty. If he didn’t like what had happened then he would likely track down who had done it and when he found you…that would be it.

You took a deep breath and went to walk back inside, but you were stopped short when a whistle caught your attention. You hated how fast you stopped and turned to it.

Sure enough, that man with the devious smile was staring at you openly with a friendly wave. You hoped to god that he was genuinely happy and not just luring you in. With one last internal whimper, you began across the patio and came to the two men.

“Buenas tardes Sr. Salamanca…Señor Lalo.” You nodded to them both, but you noticed that Lalo simply refused to take his glittering eyes off you- mirth swimming in them.

“Beautiful day, no?” He beamed mischievously, gesturing to the cloudless blue sky.

His charm was still very much in place, and you counted that as a good start, but you knew his mood could change on a dime.

You looked out at the saturated sky, “It is. You seem to be in an extra good mood today, Señor.” You said, then bent down to Hector to gently ask him if he was comfortable or needed water. He didn’t ding he bell, so you assumed Lalo had already done those.

“You ever see what a mouse can do in a house, niñita?” Her asked, still smiling.

You thought for a moment, “Y-yeah I have.” You said, recalling when mice got into the basement of your childhood home and ate through the Christmas decorations.

“They scurry around and get into everything but you never fucking see them. Fast, y’know? Chew through everything…pequeños bastardos destructivos…” he chuckled and shook his head, “I have a…very strong sense that there is a little mouse…right here in this city.” Lalo leaned forward on the table- his forearms flexing. “Causing some serious damage too.” His gaze was heavy and intense. You found yourself starting to feel afraid, but you did your best to keep it at bay.

“A- a mouse, señor?” You asked.

He hummed, “You know what the thing about mice is though, niñita?”

You tentatively shook your head.

“They make tremendous pets.” He grinned.

“I-I suppose you’re right.” You hoped your skin blanching wasn’t as visible as it felt.

Lalo chuckled and leaned back again, and you released a breath. “Someone made a fool out of some competition of ours…their tactics reminded me of a pequeño ratón, you know?”

“Oh?” You asked as casually as you could.

“Yep.” He popped the “p”, “There’s this restaurant which, admittedly is pretty good,” he began joyfully, “And you’ll never guess what happened to it.”

You shook your head and shifted a little.

“Tell me.” You said, hiding your shaking hands behind your back.

“Got shut down.” He said like it was a huge secret, “Yeah, something about a wiring issue. Morons,” he shook his head, “Crazy eh?”

“Yeah…who would’ve thought.” You agreed, mirroring his shock.

“Yeah. Bonkers.” His smile faded from his eyes, but remained on his lips. But there was no anger there, which you counted as a positive thing.

Silence settled over you and you started to squirm. “It’s a good thing though…isn’t it?” You couldn’t help yourself from asking. You needed to know what he thought…whether you should say your goodbyes to this world or if you could actually breathe.

Lalo smiled again. “Sí, algo muy bueno.”

Your ears started ringing as his words settled into your brain.

He wasn’t furious.

He wasn’t vengeful.

You nodded, trying not to show how relieved you were. “Well…it might be unfortunate for that business but I hope your family does well in the meantime.” You sighed as calmly as you could, and picked up an empty cup on the table- anything to hide your trembling hands. “It’s always good to see you Señor Lalo…until next time. Sr. Salamanca your nurse will come get you in twenty minutes alright? Please don’t try and make her deaf this time…” you added after having the memory of the woman yelling every time she spoke for three hours following Hector ringing his bell non stop for 15 minutes. Poor thing could barely hear.

“Adios, niñita.” Lalo murmured just loud enough for you to hear it, and you cast him one last look before you left. You were certain you would never get accustomed to his stare.

The remaining part of the day passed in a blur. Before you knew it the next shift of workers were signing in and you were signing out. The receptionist on that evening bid you goodnight, and you finally felt yourself fall back into your body.

You said a few goodbyes on your way out the door, and you absentmindedly played with your keys. You ran the day over in your head, and while you did feel relieved that Lalo wasn’t angry…you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You swore you forgot something when you had …when you had gone to the restaurant. You hadn’t had the wits to look over everything when you got home, so you were hoping it was just some remaining guilt in you still festering.

There was a light breeze that night. It crept up your spine and tickled your cheeks. You breathed it in as you climbed into your car, and you let yourself relax a little as you pulled out and drove home.

Your building came into view but just when you were climbing out, a body came right up in front of you- caging you between your door and the sidewalk.

“Hola pequeña!”

You stared up, and felt your cheeks warm at the proximity to the older man - his grey streak prominent in the golden setting sun. You felt your skin prickle with goosebumps and your fingers tingled as you fought to find something to say.

You forced a small smile despite how flustered you were, “H-hello Señor.” You said softly.

“Just the person I was looking for. How lucky am I?” He smiled- one arm over the open door and the other on the roof. You were stuck.

“Oh I- r-really?” You hated that you couldn’t stop tripping over your words.

His grin only deepened, “Yeah, you know…almost as lucky as I was when a little mouse decided to meddle with that restaurant, hm?”

You stared at him, not knowing what else to do or say. Your anxiety began to creep back as you started to think that the joy he had shown in front of Hector was just an act after all.

“If you say so Señor… I hope no one was hurt.” You managed to say as his warmth and scent radiated into the air around you.

He laughed and shook his head. “Nah not this time…but I will say that whoever did it was a little nervous I think.” He said as if it was a conspiracy, tilting his head just so.

“Oh?” You asked. Not your most genious of replies but your brain was starting to turn into white noise.

Lalo nodded, and you could tell he was feigning concern; his mouth was in a frown but his eyes were filled with amusement. He was playing with you. “Yeah they left their shitty wire-cutters behind.” The older man reached into his back pocket, and you felt yourself blanch.

“I went by there you know…the day after to give my condolences on the unfortunate findings…And I just so happened to find these. Such an amazing coincidence too.” He smiled, wagging the cutters at you as he spoke.

You continued to stare, as if you moving would cause him to blow your head off; you still couldn’t tell if he was pleased by what happened, and each passing moment didn’t seem to help clarify anything.

“Coincidence?” You asked a little breathlessly.

He nodded brightly.

“Yeah, I mean don’t you have a busted pair like these in your car?” Lalo pointed the metal at your vehicle.

He knows he knows he knows he knows-

“I-I I did…been donating some things though I think they were in the last l-load I did. Haven’t seen them for weeks.” You felt your brain working overtime as you fought to find something to convince him with; you were fine with him not knowing it was you even if he was happy about it…but you weren’t leaping at the chance of telling him that it was you and him not being pleased.

But then, Lalo tsked and leaned away, “Too bad…here I was thinking I might owe you a favour. Guess not.” He shrugged and tossed them into the window you now saw was open. You didn’t remember opening it, and you realised he must have opened it when you were working to check if your wire-cutters were missing.

Then you felt your heart sink. He knew you were lying.

You sucked in a breath and shrugged.

“Even i-if it was me…you wouldn’t owe me anything.” You said, holding your ground as he towered over you.

His brows rose comically.

“No? Some say a favour from a Salamanca is as good as gold.” He rumbled. His breath fanned across your cheeks and he readjusted his hand by your head. You felt yourself almost gravitate towards it.

You nodded and tried to ignore how you couldn’t feel your fingers.

“I’m sure you’re right, señor…” you replied, “Tu tío no me odia y has sido generoso…that’s enough for me.”You watched that mirth return. An morbid amusement.

You watched something in his head click ad he pieced things together in two seconds.

“Ah, ella ha estado aprendiendo... Una chica muy lista.” He winked and wagged a finger at you as he stepped away from you and onto the street.

You might not have gotten every word…but you knew there was a little bit of pride in what he said. Like he was amused by you learning and speaking his native tongue.

“My apologies for interrupting your evening. Adiós!” He was out of your space and walking to his Monte Carlo that you somehow missed when you pulled in.

“G-goodnight, Señor.” You watched him walk. There was a certain carefree confidence to the way his arms hung by his sides. You wondered what that was like.

He drove away with a two fingered salute, and you returned the gesture with a little wave. There was a surge of turmoil coursing through you as you pried yourself away from the sidewalk. On one hand, you hoped against hope that he wasn’t buttering you up only to turn around and end your existence…and the other part of you was trying to stop the first part of you from being so naive.

You strode into your apartment like you had soggy socks- slowly and uneasily. You sat on your couch and stared at the wall.

You fell asleep that night just like every other- suddenly and not knowing that you were being watched. Not that you would ever notice. Hector’s men might now have been as intelligent and inconspicuous as Lalo’s own back home, but they did the job. Every night like clock work; they followed you home, watched your window, and stayed quiet about it. It had been months now. At first it had just been to see if you were an informant or a plant…but after a few weeks, some uneventful phone taps and 24 hour shifts later, it was clear that you were just…alone.

Lalo knew your routine better than you did. Knew that you often sat for stretches of time on your bed or couch upon getting in the door…usually not even doing anything. He knew that you only ordered a full meal from a restaurant once every two weeks. He knew that you had nightmares too- sudden crying or screaming in the night had spooked the men stationed outside your window at first…but after a few nights they got used to it. He could still remember his mother having them when he was a boy and his father would disappear for days…her cries from her room. He knew the sound all too well.

You weren’t a threat. Not really. Lalo was still trying to work out how you had managed to get under Hector’s skin…but he had a feeling that your respect for him gave him a familial sense about you. Like a niece. No…no Lalo wouldn’t get rid of you any time soon, not while you still pleased his Tio, and now apparently looked out for the cartel.

When the men had told Lalo about your late night escapade, he had indeed paid a visit to Los Pollos Hermanos…and he admittedly hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time when he found those old shitty wire cutters of yours. He knew you had spirit but he had to admit that he hadn’t expected that of you.

You were this skittish little thing , but the older man couldn’t help but feel entertained at your antics. You were juvenile and fearless despite your anxious nature. So eager to prove something.

So they watched you.

The following few nights after your impulsive crime, the men had taken to start making little bets. Would you do something else crazy? Was it a one time thing? They kept busy.

You were dull, but you were cute, and they didn’t mind.

They knew you never had visitors, so a week later, when they saw a taxi pull up, and a man get out in front of your building they didn’t perk up. They watched him enter, and lazily observed him; it wasn’t until they noticed how he loitered outside the front door until someone left and he caught the door that they looked at him a little closer.

The man disappeared inside, and they were begining to grow bored of waiting to see if anything if happened until your apartment light turned on.

They watched what they could see of you move through your apartment. One of the men had his binoculars in hand, pressed to his eyes to see more, but all he could make out was your door being flung open, and your home going black.

That was enough for them.

One of the men pulled out his phone, and pressed a speed dial, and waited as it rang.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#tony dalton #lalo salamanca #better caul sall #breaking bad #Lalo Salamanca x reader #breaking bad imagine #better call saul imagine #lalo salamanca/reader #lalo salamanca imagine #bcs fic #better call saul fanfic #tony Dalton x reader

[imagines-by-cleo]

I know deep in my heart that Lalo would do this.

#not a doubt in my mind that he could #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca imagine #better call saul #bcs

[genocidehim]

Imagine if you were a maid at Don Eladio’s and Lalo saw you and became obsessed with you

notes: reader is female, I wore out my only two brain cells thinking about this. words: 404

I apologize if I did not understand the request correctly. I wasn't sure if you were referring to the escort girls who usually attend Eladio's parties or to a housemaid ;; I assumed it was the latter, so I apologize if that's not what you had in mind. (my reading comprehension is very poor)

When you entered his field of vision, you almost left him speechless. The way Lalo stopped paying attention to everything around him when he noticed you was blatant.

Don Eladio called for one of his maids to bring some liquor while Lalo and he gathered near the pool. It wasn't a special meeting with the Cartel Capos or anything like that, just a private conversation between the two of them to discuss Hector's health.

When Lalo saw you arrive with the Hennessy in your small hands, he almost felt personally attacked. Your gaze didn't bother much to look at him, you seemed very focused on your job as you served two glasses of liquor and left the bottle on the table, saying goodbye to both before returning to the house in the same way you arrived.

It was a very brief encounter, but it was enough to fuel his accelerated imagination.

He noticed how attractive and young you were to be just a maid. He even found it strange that you weren't one of those escort girls who used to attend Don Eladio's parties. Just a maid wearing a simple uniform, but the way your legs stood out and how the uniform still struggled to show the shape of your body was enough to let him know that you were attractive underneath that clothing. Lalo wondered if you were just as professional as you had shown in those few minutes. Hearing your voice made him imagine how sweet it would feel to hear you say his name, or even how it would feel to have your beautiful eyes on him.

Your brief presence was enough to slowly obsess him.

From that day on, he made sure to keep an eye on you all the time. Even when he attended Don Eladio's parties, he still kept his gaze on you despite having many beautiful girls around him.

He saw you as a challenge, something he had to get.

He didn't care if you were just a maid in his boss's house. He saw something more, and his intuition never failed him.

He would always find an excuse to have you close, no matter how small it was. He always asked you to bring him water, even insisted that you call him 'Lalo' despite your insistence on calling him "Don Eduardo". He loved how submissive you could be, and that only increased his obsession with you.

#lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul x reader #breaking bad x reader #eduardo salamanca #lalo salamanca fluff #lalo salamanca fanfic #lalo x reader #bcs x reader #salamanca x reader #one short #lalo salamanca imagine

[slamminslamminmcgill]

got silly goofy high and had an epiphany 😌 (had this cookin in my drafts for weeks yk how it be)

warning: breeding kink, piss kink, spit kink, intox, degradation/slurs

anatomical terms: pussy/cunt, t-dick

“Oh, god, you feel so good… Feels so fucking good, you little whore… You do this often? Spreading your legs for any old man who buys you a drink? Betcha have some real daddy issues, don’tcha, boy?”

Lalo grabbed your chin and spat in your face as he fucked you up against the bathroom stall.

“Slut.”

In response, you reached out and pulled him in closer, sobbing with pleasure into his shoulders. You squeezed him as tight as you could, inside and out. Your chests pressed together as your vice of a cunt milked him dry.

Lalo growled, stabbing his coke nails into your hips and viciously thrusting into you, his balls slapping into your t-dick, the two of you jiggling the flimsy lock on the stall that threatened to give way. “Oh, te pinche putito… Ngh, voy a venir… Voy a venir dentro de tí… Voy a llenarte y poner un pinche bebé en tí, joto… Mmm, te vas a estar tan lleno… Tan lleno de mi leche… (Oh, you little fucking slut… Ngh, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum inside you… Gonna fill you up and put a fucking baby in you, faggot… Mmm, you’re gonna be so full… So full of my cum…)”

You had no clue what he was saying, but it sounded fucking hot. He wasn’t talking to you, moreso at you. This wasn’t a balanced exchange; you were just a hole, one of many he could’ve picked to empty himself in. Your limp body dangled in his arms as he used it, a lifeless sex doll for his sole pleasure. He jerked himself off with your pussy until he came with a loud-

“Fuck!”

And boom goes the dynamite. His hot cum spurted inside you, filling you up just like he said he would. As he flooded your hole, both of your brains flooded with dopamine. That physical satisfaction came alongside mental gratification, reinforcing this debauched behavior. You’d surely seek it out again.

Lalo laughed in delight as the relief washed over him. “Oh… Hah… Haha… Phew, you’re incredible, kid. Best fuck I’ve had in a really long time.” He swept your hair out of your face and tenderly kissed you on the forehead. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

“Nonononono, keep it…” you whined, your limbs locking around his back, “K-Keep it iiin…”

“Aww, you’re precious, honey…” He cooed, peppering kisses along your neck. “But I have to piss, so I kinda have to take it out…”

For some stupid reason, maybe it was the cocktail of substances and the myriad levels of pleasure you were dealing with, or maybe just the immaturity of “haha piss funny”, you started snickering. A lot.

”Oh?” Lalo inquired, “What’s so funny, chiquito?”

The haze of goofy laughter dissipated, and what cast it away was the bright light of an idea. A sick, sinful, salacious idea. “Do you… Do you have to take it out?”

That made Lalo snort. He chuckled, shook his head, and replied, “Oh my god, no. No, baby, you don’t want that. I can’t do that to you… You’re too cute for that…”

You mewled with disappointment, hiding your face in his neck out of shame and praying to whatever god may be that you didn’t make this weird.

Lalo sweetly stroked your hair and sighed. “Look at me.” He commanded, snapping his fingers and you obeyed, picking your face up from the shadows. “You really want it?”

You nodded, your big puppy dog eyes bulging with need.

“Say please.”

“P-Please…”

“Please, who?”

Shit, what was this guy’s name again? He definitely told you… Oh, yeah. “Lalo… P-Please, Lalo…”

“Please, Lalo, what?

Oh, god, he was gonna make you say it? Beg for it, even? …Eh, whatever. Fuck it. “P-Please, Lalo… P-Pee inside me…”

“Good boy.” Lalo pressed his lips to yours. “I will, since you asked so nicely.”

For a few moments, everything was still. Nothing outside the bathroom stall existed, let alone mattered to you right now. All that mattered was Lalo’s cock throbbing inside you. You waited, and waited, you weren’t sure for what. Then, the signal came.

Lalo grunted, “Here it comes, baby.”

And so it did. The most prominent sensation was the intense heat pooling inside your debased hole, filling up what little space there was around his cock. You squirmed and squeaked, gripping his floral shirt in your fists.

“Fuuuck, Lalooo… so waaarm…”

“I know, right?” Lalo dotted more wet kisses along your jaw and neck. “You like it?”

“Mhmmm…”

“Good boy…” He praised, petting your hair while he pissed inside your pussy. You were so full. It was so hot. The pressure was becoming too much to bear. “I’m almost done, honey. You’re taking it so well. You ever do this before?”

You shook your head. “N-No…”

“Well, get ready. It’s about to get even better.”

You were left pondering the meaning of that remark for maybe a second, until his still-hard cock slid halfway out of your hole. His hot piss gushed out and splashed onto the floor. The release of pressure and heat felt like nothing you had ever experienced. You trembled, moaned, and drooled as he slammed his cock back in, picking up where he’d left off: fucking you stupid.

Lalo hissed obscenities in your ear as he fucked you with renewed vigor. “Ngh, qué asco… No creo… No creo que me dejaste hacer eso… Ahh, Acabo de mear en tu chocho, te pinche puto estúpido… Qué un… Mmm, qué un cerdito sucio que eres… (Ngh, so gross… I can’t… I can’t believe you let me do that… Ahh, I just pissed in your cunt, you stupid fucking whore… What a… Mmm, what a dirty little piggy you are…)”

Dripping with piss and cum, you spared a thought for the janitor who’d have to clean this stall later. Hopefully, they wouldn’t know it was you.

#piss kink #lalo salamanca smut #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca hcs #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca headcanons #bcs #bcs x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader #better call saul imagine #better call saul smut #better call saul headcanons #better call saul hcs

[richeeduvie]

…..okay now lalo pre-ejaculation drabbles please 🙏🏼 i love rome, but us lalo girlies are s t r a v i n g

Early in The Morning

Lalo Salamanca x Reader NSFW BLURB

The bed creaks under you as the sun comes up. Warm colors break through the curtains - on the way Lalo presses the head of his cock against your pussy. 

You roll your head as you bend back your knees to the sides of your stomach. You hold them there as Lalo's hip slot into place against yours. Over and over and over again as he pushes his cock inside you. Over and over and over.

Lalo presses a hand against yours, both curling just below your knee. It's warmth fizzing in your stomach and your clit as he takes his other hand to rub there. Sparks of fire in the dark, because it's like you're gone in how good you feel.

"Perfect little pussy, Princesa. Perfect-” 

His chest flexes with this breath that looks…hurried. Like the first time, but you never remember the first time Lalo took you so well, you just relive it every time he fucks you. Stuffs you. You moan out. You want his hands inside you - or holding yours, or maybe in your mouth. 

You want him everywhere and all over. It’s only been fifteen seconds or so of how Lalo’s stuffing you and this should be some sort of forever. Everywhere. You smile in a hot breath. 

You watch the way he fucks his cock inside you and the way his ribs expand with his breathing. Lalo stretches you wide, as he does every time - but it always feels new. Like the first time. He looks so beautiful every time. 

And now, it’s different. There’s this struggle you can’t describe, a guilt you have because you’re noticing it. But he’s rocking himself into the cradle of your hips harder, wet slapping sounds sounding out and getting you heated on the cheeks, like the muscles of your face are pushing on your skin as the warmth deepens inside you - coiling.

You’re full of him as your walls clench at how he drags the shaft of his cock almost all the way out of your pussy. 

“Fuck.” 

And he drags the shaft of his cock almost all the way out of your pussy, only to thrust to the hilt in one, hard thrust. Your pussy is full and leaking and you whimper watching. 

Lalo curses again. 

“Lalo,” 

Lalo grunts. His pelvis keeps grinding against your swollen clit as he holds himself on another one thrust. Your wetness smears onto his skin and trimmed hair. Your brows come down, trying to hold the way you’re being fucked on the bed. 

“Don’t do that.”

“...Lalo?” 

“Just keep crying out, Prin-Fuck.” 

Your walls clench around him when he begins knocking his body against yours in a fast, wet rhythm. 

Lalo makes a lower noise, something like a grunt - it trails along your spine and makes you shiver. 

“Don’t do that. Chingado, don’t-”

He makes himself come into you softer, but you watch as Lalo’s head is thrown back, something like curses and frustration in Spanish, you think. It’s only a soft fucking for a moment before you clench around his cock again. 

You feel him throb inside you once, then twice - then something grunt-like punches out of Lalo’s throat. You hold his hand. 

You’ve lost the way you’re gone, the way you usually are when you’re under or over Lalo and he’s inside you, how you get so lost in how good it feels, how you want him inside you all the time. You’re just watching how he…cums. 

His head comes back, bending low as the dark of his hair clings with sweat to his forehead. Lalo breathes hard, his hips hitting the backs of your thighs and ass. 

You swallow and watch as his cum fills your pussy, and you think his low-lidded eyes are trying to stare into yours. But Lalo’s pumping you full of cum, hot. 

…He’s cummed. Early. Oh. 

This hasn’t happened in a long while. At least you don’t think so. Lalo’s always able to get himself ready and on you again so quickly that it usually doesn’t matter. But that was…that was really quick. 

Which is okay. That’s okay, that doesn’t mean anything except that he enjoyed you. It’s stupid the way your heart drops. 

You swallow, trying to come off of Lalo’s leaking cock. But it’s just his hands holding your thighs so tightly to press yourself back to him, body to body. 

“What did I say?” 

“What?” 

Lalo’s looking down on you. He scratches his mustache. 

He scoffs looking fully down to where he’s finished. 

“I said, don’t do that.” 

…You don’t know what you did, but Lalo looks angry about it - because it would be your fault? But you don’t know what you’ve done differently than all the other times you’ve made love to him. 

“Look what you di-” 

You blink fast at Lalo breaking his words by breath. He’s trying to catch himself, you think - and it’s beautiful in the light, but you don’t get it. What you did. You’re still buzzing and you’re confused. You want more. But Lalo’s not moving or using you to get ready and heavy again. 

How are you gonna get more?

“Why are you pouting?” 

You did feel the worry come onto your lips and brows. 

“Lalo-I’m sorry, I just-” 

You take his hand from your thigh to kiss. You can do that because it’s the only thing you know how to do in this position, and you’re selfish. You want his hands against your lips. 

You’re pulling him towards you in the kiss. 

“It just-it happens, sometim-ow! Lalo!” 

He’s pinched your nipple hard with his other hand. 

“It happens? Is that what you’re telling me?” 

Lalo’s mouth is parted, slightly bared and it’s like disbelief in the way he stares at you. 

You look away, hand still pressed to your mouth because you need it here. In the confusion and fading pleasure. Lalo goes silent. 

Then you hear a breath, something long. 

“Princesa, you did that on purpose, huh?” 

You turn your head back to see Lalo’s face lighter in the mouth. He comes down onto you and you almost sigh out of pure…bliss. It feels like a childish word in something so simple, but you’ll take all of his body like this if you can’t take it any other way. 

Lalo kisses your cheek before tucking his warm face into the crook of your neck, hand coming onto your breast to make you respire with his finger circling your nipple. 

“It’s okay, you just wanted to see. You got me. You happy?” 

“I-” 

Lalo drags his nose over your collarbone, tongue flicking over your skin when he licks his lips. 

“My little whore. It’s okay - you just play too much. Making me a damn mess.” 

You swallow. 

“...I’m sorry.” 

You card a hand through his hair, swallowing down any pleading whine to get him fucking you again. 

“I know, Princesa.” 

You think it’s easier for him to pretend it was something you wanted. So, you just…wrap your legs around his waist. You’ll keep it that way, if it’s easier for the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. If he keeps himself on you like this for the forever he couldn’t make. 

You feel Lalo’s smile on your cheek.

#inbox #hc's #drabble #madman!au #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul fanfic #lalo salamanca imagine

[ficsnroses]

— 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝑩𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑻𝒐.

—𝑳𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓— 

prompt: lalo hasn’t come home well into the night, leaving you worried. when he does arrive, you find it tough to let each other go. 

warnings: lots of fluff, angst. brief sm(u)t mention. 3.3k words. 

notes: sigh. gotta love two idiots in love. anyway, hope you enjoy! gif credit: (x)

a/n: if you’d like to see more Lalo fics, feedback much appreciated to lemme know. there is very minimal dialogue in this piece, I hope I was able to execute their thought processes adequately. enjoy! (also, I apologize if the Spanish is incorrect, google translate was used). 

title creds: everything i write uses a hozier lyric at this point lmao.

You don’t become acquainted with the cartel by choice.

No one sane enough would.

You’d heard the sentiment often. The devil is in the details.

You knew of the Salamanca name.

The first time you’d met him, his eyes sparkled with life and he’d grinned broadly. You’d ignored the shiver down your spine that whispered ever so delicately how this wasn’t a man smiling at you, but a predator baring teeth at its prey.

You’d ignored it, nonetheless. And then it never came again.

Lalo Salamanca became for you a what the sun is to the moon.

He cannot run from what he is—what he was born into. Cannot dispose of the very blood that electrifies through each lively course of his veins.

But you?

You’d drowned willingly.

And perhaps, there is some rotten thing inside you, too. For holding the devil’s hand so tenderly. Funny that— the tightness of that grip made you think that your hand would never be only yours ever again.

Something inside you whispered that you will burn. And there will be no relief.

Not for a long time.

The pangs of longing, of regret that cut through your chest are sharp; nearly acidic.

2:53am.

He always calls, always reaches out to let you know he’ll be home soon.

The bubble of uneasiness that had been smouldering inside your chest all day had finally seemed to boil over. By the time you’d paced the corridor of your shared home a little over a million times, an onslaught of gentle tears had finally begun to escape and you were in desperate need of a steadying breath. Your heart had begun to beat just a few beats too fast.

You knew the Salamanca name, and everything it entailed.

It could all come crumbling down in a mere second.

Just one, measly second. After which all you’d be left with was little flickers of him in your home. The lingering sound of that rich laughter that rolls up from his chest, the songs he’d hum for you buried in the walls. The smell of him on your pillow, and they very shell of you cold, because it would no longer be warmed by his.

It’s a funny thing, damnation. How some are destined for it, how some fall into its arms willingly.

A knot forms in your chest. Your eyes squeeze shut and you breathe in deeply, trying to push each bitter thought out your head. Lock yourself away from it. Push back the way his words are an anthem in your heart.

They pierce through you. To the very marrow and back.

‘I won’t go anywhere, cariño. No sin ti.’

Most people fear damnation.

You tug on a memory. A memory of Chihuahua night sky, a dark room, and hands cupping cheeks. The heat of them on his skin—a blessing and a curse all in one because you can hardly live without that touch now. Callous hands gentle on your back as he kisses and claims, the bittersweet, almost nostalgic tang of cognac on his tongue. The warmth of soft, caring lips against your forehead followed by a tentative, faint murmur into your hair.

It’s a funny thing, damnation.

And perhaps, you are damned. And maybe, nothing is much of a sacrifice when part of you wanted to stay from the start. With him.

Some people call him a sin. An angel of death, a wicked fool. Effortlessly foul, a curse that easily lights up the room.

Not you. Never you. You have reached the deepest parts of him, the suppleness buried underneath a frighteningly sharp exterior. Those closest to him know all too well. Lalo Salamanca is warm.

Cold eyes, warm hands. And a warmer heart, if you could get to it.  

He will burn castles for the ones closest to his heart. You do not believe in fate. You do not believe in destiny, either. But then he’d came.

Destructive, big, bold, beautiful, and you’re forced to reconsider everything.

He is a mountain of a man and he is yours. And you don’t remember when every part of you had become his.

You tried not to keep track of time.

It made it easier.

You pace the corridor a little more, the gnaw inside painful and raw, ripping through your chest. Blinking twice, your expression slackens as a pair of fresh, noiseless tears roll down your cheeks. You feel heavy and worn in the worst way possible— the kind that makes one slow and vulnerable. Worry splits you apart and suffocates you with every breath, so much so, that you had barely registered the click of the front door when it opens slow with a creak.

Its not long before you breathe a soul deep, gut wrenching sigh of relief. Your eyes close as your chest fills, and you waste no time in hastening his way. The distance between you two is cut in just a few rushed steps, tears welling in your eyes anew.

And suddenly, everything feels as if a ripple in the very movement of time itself.

He sees the look of distress on your face, the way you breathe a pained breath that rattles in your lungs.

A pair of arms curl around you like irons. The powerful ripple of his chest and arm muscles melt against your body and you sigh, burying your face into his frame with a weary exhale. The warmth of his skin sinks into you and seems to revive you to the bone, and you cling to him softly with your cheek pressed tightly to his chest, close enough to hear the subtle beat of his heart.

And you keep it there.

Quietly listening as your drowsy limbs and fatigued mind register the feat. He is home. Right where he belongs.

It’s a funny thing. How you knew what those hands were capable of.

They’d killed before, and you knew how dangerous they were— how dangerous he was. But Lalo touches you with care; tense and careful as he wraps you in his arms, expression contouring with every small weep you’d let out.

He could tell you were executing your greatest attempts to halt your distress—to quiet your ever so small weeps, so quiet that he could hardly hear them. But sense them, he did.

And they withered something inside him.

Lalo’s voice is calm, baritone vibrating against you as he quietly whispers into your silky tresses, leaving a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Hey, Princesa.”

You smile mildly for the first time today to those words, still listening to the sound of his beating heart. Pressing closer to him, you breathe softly at the sensation of his nose brushing against the gentle curve of your neck as he rests his head there, moulding into you so easily, so familiarly. Your skin tingles where his fingertips stroke, and you arch into his touch with a tight swallow.

Lalo’s eyes slip shut, and you both simply savour the moment.

No words are needed, no tender confessions or difficult details. Your fingers sink into his thick salt and pepper hair and you shift yourself closer.

It’s an amusing thing, damnation.

Reflecting on the paths we take.

     Maybe he didn’t deserve this. But he wanted it, anyway.

So he nuzzles into you further, smells your hair a little deeper. Remembers the way there is a subtle chill in the AM air, but your embrace is warm nonetheless. So warm, that for one, irrational second he wishes to never let you go at all.

He longs to stay suspended in this moment, cocooned by your warmth and the quiet lull of the night.

A part of you almost feels upset when he pulls away slightly, but it is replaced with something tender not too long thereafter, when you feel Lalo’s larger hands cup your face delicately.

Lalo Salamanca has always been a man of minimal sentiment shown. Stoic, frighteningly efficient in emotionless conduct. Understanding what was going on inside that clever head of his would always prove to be a challenge. And he liked it that way.

Salamancas protect their interests.

Only with you would that startling exterior thaw slightly. Only ever you. But even then, it surely still did prove difficult for Lalo to allow the indulgence willingly.

There was something in those eyes that made you ache for him. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, despite your greatest attempts to smother it.

His expression remains patient, stoical when his eyes look into yours, and in them, he sees raw, honest pain brewing. He observes you thoughtfully, eyes glossing into you as if he is carefully trying to calculating why you would be so startled, to the point of waterworks for a sinner like him.

As if his own mind could simply not comprehend the weight of what you feel for him. Despite the fact that he feels the exact same measure for you, if not more. He simply cannot understand how someone like you could fear so endlessly for someone like him.

A long pause.

Then, your fractured whisper. “I…”

He doesn’t answer. Only his slow, steady breaths do and his patient eyes scanning your features. Your beautiful, soft features he has come to adore far more than he’d care to admit to the world.

He doesn’t answer. Not until his warm fingers brush against your skin, the pad of his thumb lovingly skimmed under your eye, wiping a rogue tear.

And when he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, you seem to crumble right beneath his touch.

And suddenly, you realize. That you can be homesick for people, too.

“I…I got so…” you note quietly, trailing off, and Lalo notices the sad break in your voice. There is a part of him that almost tells himself he is better off not knowing.

But.

“I just got a little scared, when I didn’t hear from you.”

Your voice is a mere breath that seals the space between you, and suddenly, a million little things burn at the back of his throat. This man— this wicked, soft, immoral, fascinating man wants to say so much and yet—

What could he possibly say?

What string of carefully calculated words could possibly do this— you, justice?

     It’s a funny thing, damnation.

He hadn’t feared it his entire life. It was all part of the grand scheme of things. A mere landmark in the cycle.

He knew he didn’t deserve this. But he wanted it. He wanted it so badly, anyway.

He could never do it justice. Not if he tried with everything he’d had. And it was a tough predicament to admit— that he could spend the rest of his life doing nothing but good, nothing but saints work and still be unworthy of you.

Perhaps it is a curse.

A beautiful, unjust, painstaking curse.

Perhaps you are both destined for it. Lalo had realized a bitter truth long ago.

He loves you.

Lalo Salamanca loves you.

Love, love, love. A foolish sentiment. A sickness. A weakness. A blessing.

He fears it will become all he knows or cares about because it is the very best of him. The part of himself that he likes the best. It had been that way for a while now. The mounting, growing dream of a future with you by his side. The desire to build a life with you, to melt into you so deep that he forgets the taste of his very own name.

Casting your eyes down, you’d endeavoured to swallow the lump in your throat, trying to force casualness into your tone. It was then, that his work tethered hand softly lifts yours, his fingers lacing comfortably warm around it, and he lays a heartfelt, gentle kiss to the back of it.

You tried not to focus on the heat of his lips, or the scratch of his facial hair when it brushed against your skin. And especially not the way you’d watched his eyes slip shut when he’d done it. Even, if only briefly. As if the feeling of your supple skin against his lips was the only one he’d ever wanted.

And then, he rests your still entwined hand over the earnest flesh of his beating heart, eyes never falling off you. The weight of Lalo’s hand on top of yours is nearly electrifying; and through the weight of his stare into your very own, you feel the gesture more of a statement than a mere action. His eyes burn with certainty and a thousand nameless things.

A pleasant shiver races down your spine at his nearness, at his touch, and you revive when his eyes slowly trace over your features.

His hand lightly squeezes yours, and you seem to melt for him in the very moment. The way his eyes read into you, the way his unyielding embrace around you feels like more of a home than any other one you’ve known.

This, his hand over yours on his beating heart was his way of saying it. I’m here. I made it home.

It all comes rushing back. The very words you hold nearest to your heart.

     ‘I won’t go anywhere, cariño. No sin ti.’

Something used to scratch from under your skin. Something indescribable, something you hadn’t been able to pinpoint despite your greatest attempts to identify it. From the start of it all, Lalo had always been kind to you. Charming, effortlessly pleasant. You relished his often biting sense of humour, too, even.

Still, you’d been dreadfully aware of the penance that comes with him. The blood on his fingertips, the hold of the cartel that will refuse to let one of their best men go. His very own family name, a damnation of its own.

But there had always been something inside you that refused to part from him. The gravitational pull he had on you had become harder and harder to dethatch yourself from day by day— because some part of you didn’t want to let him go.

And it wasn’t until today. In the cold linger of the day’s chill, through the uncertain feat of his whereabouts. Today’s events had spoke to you once and for all.

You are unwilling to be parted from him. A simple truth, one you had happily dedicated yourself to the moment you’d seen him walk through the door. A part of you had whispered delicately in your ear all day, buried, raw thoughts scratched their way to the surface through each uneasy breath.

A part that selfishly wonders.

What kind of existence would it be without him?

If the soft pad of his thumb never brushed lovingly against the apple of your cheek again? If you’d never felt the way his lips curve into a smile, between the juncture of your neck when he’d embrace you? If you’d never feel the tingle of your name being whispered by that low, silky voice?

If he’d never made love to you again?

His smooth voice tears through your thoughts. Lalo’s thumb coaxes over the soft skin of your inner wrist, and you realize that neither you or Lalo had been able to take your eyes off each other the entire time. You’d both been sinking into one another, so deep, finding it tough to look away.

As if you both feared the other would disappear. As if you both feared that if you looked away for too long, this dream in front of you, that you both often feared you might have just simply conjured up, might just disappear.

“Join me in the shower?” he voices quietly, composed and calm.

Damnation.

Perhaps, a curse. A carefully measured calculation by the very universe you were made in.

It’ll all go the same. A routine, a tune you’ve played a thousand little times. He’ll try to crack a joke or two to distract you, shift your focus elsewhere, anywhere away from this heartbreak.

Because perhaps, he needs it too. It feels far too much as if he is trying to swallow down his own heart.

Sometimes, he’ll catch you looking at him. With those eyes of yours— those beautiful, loving, thoughtful eyes of yours that whisper to the very marrow of him. I’ll follow you anywhere.

And sometimes— too often, even, it terrifies him how easy that assertion of yours is to believe.

His life had always been just that. His. His to gamble, his to decay. But perhaps now, it belongs to someone else, too.

Someone good, someone great. Someone magical.

Your lips gently curve upwards into a small smile, and you bring the gentle arch of your hand to press to his skin, cupping his cheek. He savours that sight, locks it away in the deepest pits of him where he will keep it forever. You, with your easy smiles and kind eyes.

His personal sun.

You have easily hid your once prominent sorrow. Masked it away. “I’ll grab us some towels.”

It feels worryingly nice to know he is the source of that subtle joy that grows on your pink stained lips. And worse, to remember that he was the cause of tears that brewed in its place before it.

To remember that maybe, this is all he will ever be to you. A harmony of sorrow and joy. The source of pain but also the antidote.

And he wonders.

Is this punishment, then?

The penance he is damned to pay?

Your fingers are slow, careful, oh so gentle— when you soothe them along his temple lovingly, sweeping a stray hair away. It’s brief, none more than a flickering brush of softness and warmth alongside his rugged skin. And it was then that Lalo realized just how tightly his tense arms had been enveloped around you. The smell of your perfume lingers in his senses, something sweet, something so uniquely you. The way the rise and fall of your small breaths against him had felt so routine, as if they had always been destined to accompany his. Everything about this moment—the smell of your dewy skin pecked with flowers, the gentleness of your movement. It all gets committed to his memory.

Some part of him whispers from deep within.

Let her go, you fool. Let her find her peace. Let her be happy. She deserves someone good. Someone clean.

And he realizes another bitter truth. He can’t.

It is damnation.

To see the dread in your eyes each time he comes home like this. To watch you relive your very own, terrible nightmare. Again and again and again. Lalo knows he will never be free. Not from the cartel, not from his family name. And he does not want to be, either.

The same way in which you hold an unwillingness to be parted from him.

They say the devil is in the details.

A curse, even. To begin to love so fiercely. To have and to hold, but not without knowing that he is a thorn that bruises the very paradise that is you. To know that he is slowly becoming a completely smitten fool for you. To know that each time you part, he watches you walk away and every step feels painful, leaves him feeling bruised and raw even though it shouldn’t.

You are the weakness the devil himself did not have planned.

There is a lull of silence, your bodies still entwined together. It’s a unique type of heartbreak—one you can’t do anything about. The type that bubbles, silently simmering underneath the surface— quiet, nonetheless, always there.

Perhaps you were both destined for a path of destruction from the start.

And it is true.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve you. But he wants you, anyway. Only you.

You will hold him tighter tonight. And he’ll hold you, too. And you’ll promise yourself a million little times, and him too, that you will never leave his side.

His heart is yours to protect now.

     Maybe he,

     is the kind of damnation you don’t mind.

woohoo!! you made it! gotta love some soft! lalo content. i’m sure he has a human side buried under all that monstrosity (or...not). please let me know if you enjoyed, and maybe I’ll write another :)

#lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca fanfiction #Tony Dalton #lalo salamanca #better call saul #better call saul imagines #better call saul x reader

[thesculptedflower]

Hermosa

You work late nights at a diner that’s located in a not so safe part of Albaquerque. You have a very special regular, who ends up being your saving grace from this sad part of your life.

Content warnings: Attempted abuse, attempted sexual abuse, swearing, violence, +18, MDNI

Tropes: Age gap, denied feelings, forced proximity, ’’who did this to you?’’

Part 1/? I've been away for so long I don't know if this goes anywhere anymore. My life is so messed right now, that I just thought that maybe writing would ease it up a bit. We'll see. I missed this. Will proofread later, so sorry for any typos.

*****************************************

You’re already handing the take-away cup over the counter, before your customer has even had a chance to order. He’s a regular, always comes fifteen minutes before closing, always orders a black coffee with a pinch of cinnamon. It suits him.

’’Am I that predictable?’’ He grins, his fingers brushing against yours as the cup leaves your hand. 

You feel a soft blush creep up your cheeks. ’’Mhmm.’’ You hum in response, taking the few coins he’s offering you. ’’ Or maybe you’re just my favourite customer.’’ You continue almost teasingly.

He lets out a playful chuckle and slips a generous tip to the breast pocket of your t-shirt. ’’That would make me the luckiest man in Albaquerque, hermosa.’’ 

You keep your eyes fixed on his deep brown ones and give him the sweetest smile. 

 The flirting has been going on for months. You’ve patiently been waiting for an invite to a date, or at least a phone number, but to no avail. You suppose it’s your age that’s holding him back. You being in your mid-twenties, and him being over his forties. Not that you’d mind, Lalo Salamanca has aged like a fine wine.

 He takes a seat at the bar, like he always does, and asks you about your day. Like he always does. The air is sweet from the cinnamon in his coffee. 

’’Nothing out of the ordinary, a few drunks and family feuds.’’ You tell him, leaning your elbows on the counter. ’’Oh, and an attempted robbery. Haven’t had one of those in a while.’’

Lalo’s eyebrows rise slightly, urging you to keep going about this robbery.

’’A young man, probably my age, poor thing was out of his mind with drugs. Didn’t even have a gun. I mean thank god he didn’t, but it was just sad. Probably just wanted to get some cash to buy his next fix.’’ You recollect the events of the day. 

’’You called the cops?’’ Lalo asks, stirring his coffee.

’’Didn’t need to, a few truck drivers managed to shoo him away. He did promise to come back with weapons and back up though, but I’m not putting much trust on that.’’ 

You begin to wipe down the counter, not feeling too worried about empty threats of young narcs. You’ve seen plenty in the years you’ve worked in this diner, and this one won’t be your last. 

’’I’d take it seriously, you never know what’s going on inside their heads.’’ 

Lalo’s suddenly very serious tone catches your attention. You turn to look at him and to your surprise he’s almost angry. Worried even.

You place a hand on top of his and smile softly. A very brave move, one you’ve not tried before. He stares your hand for a quick moment before lifting his eyes back up to yours. 

’’I’ll be fine. I do have a taser behind here.’’ You reassure him.

The diner clock rings as a sign of closing, pulling you out of the moment.

’’I’m going to have to kick you out now.’’ You tease, knowing full well that he’d rather stay in, even if just a moment longer.

’’Still won’t let me stay?’’ He tries to bargain, like he always does. Bit of the gleam has returned to his eyes.

You’re well aware of the cameras in here, and of the fact that my boss keeps a close eye on them. Can’t have any strange men in here alone with me.’’ You tell him, like you always do. 

You walk with him to the door and open it for him. He stops to place his hand on the small of your back. The sudden closeness takes you by a surprise, yet you still lean into his touch, ever so slightly.

’’I’m no stranger to you hermosa.’’ He almost purrs. ’’Stay safe, I’ll see you tomorrow.’’

You say your goodbyes, already missing the warmth of his hand on you. You lock the door and watch him walk through the parking lot to his car. He turns to look back at you before getting in. Like he always does. Usually he’s all smiles and winks, but tonight his eyes are filled with worry.

A shiver goes down your spine, and you try to shake away the nervousness the conversation about the robbery gave you. You turn off a few lights and put on some music to get through of the last cleaning tasks of the evening. 

You’re too far away from the entrance, and too immersed in your work and the music, that you don’t hear the window on the front door shatter. Or someone slowly cracking the door open and entering the diner. Only when they’re standing a few feet behind you, and you spot their reflection on the wet floor you were mopping, you realise the danger you’re in.

You have to think quickly. The bucket in front of you is full of extremely hot soapy water and your mop is in there. You swing the mop with everything you got, and hit the intruder in the face.

He screams in agony. ’’You fucking bitch!’’ The hot water burns the delicate skin on his face, leaving him confused and aimless. His gun goes off while he’s struggling to gain his sight back, but the bullet goes awry, and breaks one of the windows.

You try to seize the moment and run away from him, but he manages to grab you by your hair and yank you backwards to the slippery floor. 

You let out a cry when your back hits the floor, but you cannot stop now. You try to crawl away, towards the register where the taser is. Just a little too far.

You hear angry footsteps nearing you, so you try to get up, but the floor is too slippery from the water and soap. 

’’You’re going to wish you were dead before I’m done with you.’’

You recognise the voice from earlier. It’s the same young man who tried to rob you today. Of course it is. You try to turn to look at him, to plead with him, to tell him that he can take everything from the register, but he counters your movement by kicking you in the shoulder, keeping you on the floor. You let out a helpless sob, still trying to get to the counter. Your whole body is filled with panic and you can barely focus on anything else but to surviving.

’’Drop the gun cachorro.’’

Lalo.

You try to look up at him, but he motions you to stay down. He doesn’t even look at you, his eyes, and his gun, are fixed on the other man behind you.

’’This is none of your business grandpa.’’ The young man shouts, waving his gun between you and Lalo.

’’Oh this is very much my business. This is my favourite diner, would be a real shame if I had to paint the walls with your blood. And I’m not a very good painter.’’ 

You can hear the wicked grin in Lalo’s voice. And the anger in the young man’s breathing.

’’Be wise, and drop the gun. Nobody has to die tonight. You’ve already embarrassed yourself enough, leave with your life, while you still have the fucking chance.’’ Lalo barks it like an order.

’’This bitch owes me! She-’’

’’She doesn’t owe you shit! And I, am loosing my patience. If you’re not out of this building in five fucking seconds, you’re leaving in a bodybag.’’

Lalo emits dangerous energy around himself, and it finally feels like he got trough the man’s drugged haze. He scatters past you and Lalo, shouting profanities and promising revenge as he runs.

You flinch as Lalo lays a hand on your shoulder. ’’Está bien hermosa.’’ He speaks so softly.

You take a hold of both of his hands as he helps you up. His hands are all over you immediately, checking you for wounds. The initial shock is starting to wear off, and in it’s place you’re starting to feel anger. Disappointment. Towards yourself. 

You back off from him, taking in all the damage around the diner. ’’Fuck this shit.’’ You whisper, pulling out your phone. Lalo leans against the counter, watching you as you dial your boss’s number and call him. He too can hear the amount of yelling that’s being raided on your ear. 

’’Yeah, well maybe you should hire fucking men then, but they don’t get tips for you to steal!’’ You scream into the phone before hanging up on him. You’re about to storm out of the diner when Lalo stops you by your wrist. ’’What?!’’ You’re still shouting, but it doesn’t phase him.

’’Get in the car, I’m driving you home.’’ He says with a tone you cannot argue against. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. ’’Fine.’’

The drive to your apartment is quiet. You’re so angry at yourself, for being so weak, not being able to defend yourself from a junkie. How you had just boasted that you can take care of yourself, just to be proven very wrong in a matter of 30 fucking minutes. 

Lalo parks the car on the visitor spot of your building complex and gets out before you to open your door for you. You try to walk past him to get home, but he stops you once again.

’’Enough with the attitude.’’ 

You cannot believe the audacity. You open your mouth to fight back but he speaks over you.

’’You’re in shock, but do not let the anger get to you. You did everything you could. And you survived.’’ He’s raising his voice just a little, trying to get through your anger. You know he’s just worried and that he just saved your life, but you can’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth.

’’What do you care, you’re not my fucking boyfriend.’’ Your words are like venom to him.

’’Don’t I fucking know that!’’ 

Once more you open your mouth to fight back, but are left with nothing to say when his words register to you. You’re now both just angrily staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the next move. Fuck it, you think, and rush your body against his, your hands pulling him by his neck down to kiss you. Lalo doesn’t waste time wrapping his huge arms around your waist, desperately trying to pull you even closer to him. You begin to lead him towards your apartment and to your surprise, he follows. His eyes are so dark he seems like a different person, and you think that perhaps he is. How he was ready to kill a man for you, just like that.

You open the door to your apartment and pull him inside by his belt. He’s grinning just barely. He closes the door behind him, and pulls you back to him, his lips taking claim of yours. 

You’re trying to remove your shirt, when Lalo suddenly stops. He takes a deep breath and removes your hands from your shirt. 

’’I cannot do this to you.’’ He lets out a sigh and rubs his temples with his hand. 

You let out a sarcastic laughter. ’’What the fuck Lalo?’’ Your temper is rising all over again. The tension between the two of you is so tense it could be cut with a knife.

’’You flirt with me for months, and as much as I’ve enjoyed it, I’m starting to need a bit fucking more.’’ You begin to let out all those suppressed emotions you’ve been harbouring for him. 

’’And now, you almost kill a man for me, and then you let me kiss you, and lead you to my place, and on the last fucking minute you back out. You’re a fucking pussy.’’ You’re trying to hurt him. Playing nice hasn’t gotten you anywhere with him, so maybe this does. Or at least it’ll destroy anything and everything you might have had with him, so you can start moving on.

Lalo closes the distance between you, and takes a hold of your chin. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep you looking at him.

’’You just don’t get it querida.’’ He growls. ’’I’ve had my eye on you from the first time you served me a coffee in that pitiful diner. From the first fucking smile you gave me, I have been hooked on you.’’ 

Your eyes are tearing up from the sheer passion that’s being let out to the air around you. Everything is happening all at once.

’’You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve laid my eyes on, and I’ll be damned if something happens to you because of me.’’ 

He really is a dangerous man, you think. 

’’But dios mio, if I even think about you with anyone else,  I feel like ending people.’’ 

You try to struggle against his grip, but he towers over you, holding you steady.

’’I work in the cartel, I’ve murdered and tortured, both deserving and undeserving poor souls. I am not the man for you.’’ His eyes are dark but conflicted.

’’But so ain’t any other hijo de puta.’’

You can feel his grip loosen on you just a bit. You push his hand away from you, and land a nasty slap to his cheek. He bites his lower lip, but holds back from saying anything. He’s said enough, and he can only hope it makes you see him as he really is. So he too, can start moving on.

’’Get the fuck out of my apartment, I have work tomorrow.’’ You spit out almost hatefully. 

’’You’re not going back there.’’ He tries to command you.

’’Try to stop me, I fucking dare you.’’ You argue. Lalo holds his tongue. 

’’Fine, but I’ll be taking you home every fucking night you’re closing.’’ He leaves and slams the door shut before you can argue back. 

Only when you hear his car leave the parking lot, you dare to let yourself cry. You mourn the person you were just a few hours ago, and the ’’situationship’’ you had with your favourite late night regular. But you can’t ignore the burning feeling inside your chest that yearns for this newfound person. This criminal, who burns for you as much you burn for him. For the man who would kill for you, in a heartbeat. 

Would you kill for him too, if it meant killing the old you, to let a new, different you, in?

#lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo x reader #better call saul #bcs #breaking bad #tony dalton #fanfiction #lalo salamanca imagine #reader insert

[sp00kygoddessxx]

 ♥Lost in Translation♥

The Salamanca mansion in Albuquerque was a place of power, secrets, and a world that operated in shadows and whispers. Amongst the intricacies of their lives, you, his beloved, found yourself in a unique situation. Lalo Salamanca, the charismatic and enigmatic drug lord, often spoke to you in Spanish, a language you were still learning and far from fluent in.

As you sat together in the opulent living room one evening, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting an intimate ambiance, Lalo leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. He began to speak in rapid Spanish, his words flowing effortlessly.

"Mi amor, hoy fue un día largo y agotador," Lalo said, his voice filled with a mix of weariness and affection.

You furrowed your brow, struggling to grasp the meaning of his words. "Lalo, can you please repeat that in English?"

Lalo chuckled, his smile warm and indulgent. "Of course, mi amor. I said, 'My love, today was a long and exhausting day.'"

You nodded, grateful for the translation. Learning Spanish had been a slow and challenging process, but you were determined to become fluent, especially when it came to understanding Lalo.

As the evening continued, Lalo continued to switch between Spanish and English, sometimes forgetting that your grasp of the language was still a work in progress. He would share stories, express his emotions, and even tease you, all in Spanish.

"Mi cielo, eres mi razón de ser," Lalo whispered, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You blushed at the intensity in his gaze, but couldn't help but ask for clarification. "Lalo, what does that mean?"

Lalo leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeated the phrase, "My heaven, you are my reason for being."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sentiment behind them not lost in translation. It was moments like these that made you appreciate the beauty of the Spanish language and the depth of Lalo's emotions.

As the night wore on, you and Lalo engaged in conversations that spanned a range of topics. He shared stories from his past, his experiences in the cartel, and his hopes and dreams for the future. Each word he spoke in Spanish was a glimpse into his world, and you listened attentively, doing your best to understand and respond.

At times, Lalo's animated gestures and expressive tone helped convey his meaning, even when the words were unfamiliar. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself laughing along with him, even when you weren't entirely sure what had been said.

"Te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden expresar," Lalo said, his gaze never leaving yours.

You smiled, touched by the depth of his affection, even though you weren't entirely sure of the translation. "I love you more than words can express too, Lalo."

As the night drew to a close, Lalo wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. "Eres mi todo," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestled into his embrace, feeling a sense of contentment and love. "You're my everything too, Lalo."

Language barriers may have posed occasional challenges in your relationship, but they also added a layer of complexity and depth. The love you shared transcended words, and you knew that with time, you would become more fluent and better able to understand Lalo's world.

#lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #better call saul #lalo x reader #lalo salamanca imagine #better call saul imagine

[fishylipsblubblub]

Lalo Salamanca relationship HCs <333

a/n

i was just thinking that there aren’t enough Lalo head canons so this is my jab at writing some of my own :)

- first of all, Lalo is a massive gift-giver

- like fully expect him to surprise you with something stupid expensive that you’d almost feel bad excepting

- his gifts are always thoughtful though, and he would never buy something for you without being sure it would be something you’d love

- i know this man has a whole ass pinterest board with ideas for gift for you

- his favourite part is just watching your face light up when he gives you something he knows you’ll love

- he is also really into physical touch

- whether it be him just putting his hand on the small of your back while you walk or cupping your chin

- he doesnt go over board in public, but in private-

- essentially he never takes his hands off you in private

- he always wants to remind you he’s there

- Lalo understands that his lifestyle can be dangerous and he never wants you to feel frightened by him

- thats why he seems obsessed with the little details, its because he want you to be as happy with him as possible

- he is sort of old school and wants to do everything right, so he literally tries to woo you

- definitely would show up on your doorstep with a bouquet of roses for you

- more than anything, he wants you to be happy

- dont forget, though, he is extremely protective

- to the point where he would quite literally kill for you

- if he felt like you were threatened, he would go crazy, doing everything he can to protect you

- also, he would do anything to make things go well for you

- say maybe you got a bad grade on a paper, but you were doing great on everything else in that class and you were worried it would affect your final grade

- Lalo would deadasss show up to your professors house

- remember the scene when he was interrogating jimmy about what happened in the desert?

- yeah. he would scare the absolute shit out of them all the while with a huge smile on his face.

- maybe throw in some information about them that there’s no way he could have known

- “oh, and hows your daughter, Chloe? honour roll, wow. you and Cheryl must be so proud, and with Jacob getting an A on his STEM fair project.”

- of course he has people watching their every move lmfao

- “be careful, do the right thing.” he would say finally, his face completely void of emotion.

- your teacher would be scared shitless, needless to say.

- when your teacher approached you after class and told you he made a mistake, you would be over the moon

- “i knew you would do it, cariño,” he’d say, ruffling your hair

- but it was him all along.

- you’d probably never find out, but thats the way he wants it to be

- he loves you more then anything, so dont ever take him for granted.

#lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca imagines #lalo salamanca headcanons #lalo salamanca head canon #better call saul imagines #better call saul imagine #better call saul headcanons #better call saul headcanon #saul goodman #kim wexler #jimmy mcgill

[maddiehu7]

Do I wanna know? | Lalo Salamanca |

Chapter 2

I wake up with something over my face so I can't see so I try to use my other senses to figure out what's happening it smells damp and moldy I shiver with how cold it is my hands are tied behind my back and I'm sitting in a chair I try to move but to no avail

"Looks like someone's up" I hear a man say I hear footsteps coming closer to me I start to get nervous when I feel the blindfold being ripped from my eyes I blink rapidly trying to adjust to the light in the room I look up seeing a man I've never seen before

"Who the hell are you and what do you want" I say angrily he just smirks smally

"Thalia smith" I hear someone say from the shadows when I see the owner from los pollos hermanos step out, what the fuck?

"What's fast food owner want with me?" I question confused

"What's a Salamanca want with you?" he says copying my question

"Lalo? That's what this is about some stranger I talked to for 5 seconds" I say laughing but he doesn't see the humor as he signals the guy who pulled the blindfold off me to pull out his gun pointing it at me I stop laughing sitting up straighter

"Who are you?" he asks walking in front of me folding his hands behind his back

"You just said my name you must've done your research" I say looking up at him cocking my head to the side

"Your right, but I don't know why your in Albuquerque so please enlighten me" he says pulling a chair over sitting in front of me

"Private info" I say smiling he looks pissed I'm not taking this serious he looks back over to his man talking through there eyes the man comes over standing on the side of me pressing his gun straight into my temple I close my eyes taking a deep breath trying to calm my nerves

"Why are you here" he says

"To find my dad" I say opening my eyes looking him straight in the eye

"Who's your dad" he says slightly confused but trying to hide it

"Mike Ehrmantraut" I sigh out he couldn't hide his surprise on his face then I look at him confused

"You know him" I say in realization

"He works for me" he says sitting back crossing his legs

"Well maybe we could have a civil conversation about this without the bdsm" I say looking back at my ties hand he smirks

"Undo it" he says to the man still looking me in the eyes

"Well thank you" I say once the man unties the rope rubbing my sore wrists

"How do you know Lalo Salamanca?" he questions

"I met him for the first time at your restaurant so not much I don't know why he talked to me honestly" I say truthfully and he could tell he looks away thinking for a minute

"Do you know what we do?" he asks

"No?" I say confused and intrigued

"Well then let me tell you, Lalo Salamanca is in the cartel he's apart of the Salamanca family I'm surprised you've never heard of them in your bounty business, he's my competitor so to say" he says I start laughing

"In the cartel ha right your hilarious" I say still laughing when I look at him expecting to see him laughing to at the joke but instead I see him dead faced serious I slowly stop laughing

"Wait what" I say starting to get worried this is true he just nods slowly

"Fuck" i whisper to myself running my hands over my face I look back up at him

"That means my dads in it to right, what is his job" I say demandingly

"He's my hit man but his job precedes many positions" he says nonchalantly I stare at him in shock

"A hit man....great that's great my fathers a murder" I say laughing hysterically

"Only of people that deserve it" he says looking at me

"No one deserves it jail sure but not murder!" I say shouting slightly he just keeps looking at me blankly

"Would you like me to drop you off there I'm sure you would like to talk to him" he replies ingoring my tantrum, I look away thinking for a minute before deciding on an answer I look back at him

"Yes...please" I add at the end so he knows I'm grateful he told me the truth

"Tyrus take her" he says getting up and leaving out the side door I look over at tyrus

"Let's go" he says urging me to follow him so I do hesitantly

~~~time skip~~~

We're sitting in the car outside of mikes house I want to go in and tell him how I feel but I'm also scared so I just sit in the car bouncing my leg up and down

"Get out" tyrus says looking at me blankly

"Jesus fine, asshole" I whisper the last part as I get out shutting the door behind me he zooms off I huff turning around looking at the house

"Well here goes nothing" I say sighing walking up to the door

#fanfic #wattpad #writers on tumblr #smut #fluff #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #better call saul #gus fring #mike ehrmantraut

[noellawrites]

Y Tu, Mamá? - Yandere!Lalo Salamanca x reader

summary: your plans with your daughter change when you recognize someone from your old life and make a snap decision that will change everything.

warnings: kidnapping, manipulation, pregnancy, birthing, blood, crying/screaming, being restrained, mentioned drugging with chloroform rag, isolation, rape. 18+ readers only! this is sad & dark so beware.

“Por favor, mamá? Fruta?” your daughter begged, jumping in front of you.

“Ah ah ah, sweetie. In English, too,” you said, cocking your head to the side and raising your eyebrows.

“Please, mama? The fruit?”

“Of course, here you go Leticia. You know I just want you to use both mommy and daddy’s languages, right? It’ll be helpful when you get older,” you said, ruffling her hair.

As your daughter brought the bowl of fruit to the table, you brought over the rest.

“There you are, my beautiful girls!” Lalo exclaimed, entering the room and making a big gesture of kissing your forehead and your baby bump.

“Papá!” Lettie squealed, running up to your husband and wrapping her arms around his leg tightly.

You watched as he scooped her up and her legs wrapped around his midsection. She was five, still small enough to be held.

“Huevos rancheros? You spoil me, cariño,” Lalo exclaimed, placing Lettie in her chair and sitting down at the table next to her.

At seven months pregnant, you just didn’t have the energy to hate Lalo anymore. He was a good father, and he provided for your growing family. You tried to forget everything he had done to you.

And as much as you loved your daughter, she just looked so much like him. That playful smile, the dark eyes. When you gave birth to her in the bathtub just over five years ago, you were in so much pain. There was so much blood that it turned the clear water red. But when Lalo lifted Leticia up and put her on your breast, everything changed. She was your priority.

“Can we go to the zoo today?”

“Ask your mamá, I have work to do,” Lalo responded, glancing over at you. You were lost in your thoughts again, he could tell.

You were thinking about his work. It was always him and his work: hunting someone down, disappearing down to Mexico, fraternizing with the dealers.

When you found out you were pregnant with Lettie, Lalo wanted to move you all down to his house in Chihuahua, but you put your foot down. You would not leave New Mexico or America, it was your home. And, surprisingly, he agreed. He could conduct his business here just fine.

When you had gone down to Mexico on small trips with Lalo, Lettie always seemed to enjoy herself. Abuelita always spoiled the hell out of her, and she loved playing with the animals outside and practicing her spanish with her relatives. You, however always felt like you were on the outs. The family knew Lalo had kidnapped you and they looked the other way. Abuelita, the twins and Hector never even spoke to you. You were like the scum on their shoes.

“What do you say, amor? Can I trust you to take Lettie to the zoo?” he asked, giving you a half-glare that your daughter couldn’t see.

“Yes, Lalo. We’ll go after breakfast,” you sighed, forcing a smile.

—

You were certain that Lalo put the binoculars back in the closet. As you dug around in the dark, your hand brushed against a small shoebox. It felt empty, so you lifted it up. Tiny light-up sneakers: Lettie’s.

The box contained only a small, rectangular business card. Saul Goodman: Speedy Justice For You! There was an address and phone number on the back. Without thinking, you shoved the card in your pocket and continued looking for the binoculars.

—

You drove towards the BioPark, drumming your fingers to whatever pop tune was on the radio. Lettie sat quietly in her carseat behind you, playing with one of her toys.

You pulled up to a red light, your gaze unconsciously drifting to the car on your right. Your eyes narrowed and your back stiffened. The woman looked familiar. Suddenly, it clicked. It was your mother.

All you had wanted through your entire pregnancy was your mother. To speak to her, hear her voice, feel the warmth of her touch, anything. It was what you thought of when Lalo tied you down to the bed, when he stuffed your mouth with socks to quiet your screaming, and when you sat alone, numb with only your thoughts and the sensation of a body growing within yours.

So badly you wanted to cry out to her, to roll the window down and scream and weep and say anything, anything. But instead, you did not. Your voice caught in your throat and your mouth wrinkled at the corners and the light turned green and she drove off, never once looking your way.

You fought against tears as you made the split second decision to pull into a gas station and thumb out some change for the pay phone.

“I’ll be right back, sweetie,” you reassured, rolling down the window for your daughter.

Your fingers prodded the buttons shakily. “You have reached the law offices of Saul Goodman, my name is Francesca. How can I help you?” a voice spoke through the other line.

“I need an appointment with Saul Goodman as soon as possible, it’s an emergency. In fact, it’s a matter of life and death,” you urged.

“O-okay, uhm, He can fit you in at eleven thirty, that’s in half an hour. Does that work?”

“Got anything sooner?”

“When can you be here?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen. Make sure he’s ready,” you said, then slammed the phone down.

—

Driving east down Lomas, you could only think of one thing. How selfish you were. Because if you cared about what was best for your daughter and unborn child, it would be staying put with Lalo. You never wanted Lettie to find out that her father was a monster. No. You should be okay with playing house for the rest of your life, but you weren’t. You couldn’t do it any longer, knowing your family and the people you loved might still miss you. That’s why you had to do this.

You lifted your daughter from her carseat swiftly and held her around your waist.

“Mama, where are we?”

“It’s gonna be okay, Lettie. Don’t worry, mama’s got you,” you assured.

The waiting room was full of loud, filthy people, so you opted to head right for the next door in front of you.

“Could you please at least sign—“ Slam.

As you closed the door behind you, you almost laughed at how… American the office was.

“Are you Lalo’s lawyer?” you seethed.

“Mama, I’m scared,” Lettie cried.

“Well, attorney-client privileges state that—“

“Do you have any headphones?”

“What? What is going on here?” he laughed.

“Give them to my daughter now.”

“Okay, okay,” Saul sighed, shuffling through his drawers and coming across a Hello Kitty iphone and some knotted earbuds. He un-knotted them and plugged them in.

“This should have some teeny bopper music. Here, little girl.”

Lettie cautiously took them and you carried her away from Saul’s desk, setting her on the couch.

“Sit here and be good for mama, okay? We’ll be done in a second,” you promised, and she nodded. You put the earbuds in her ears.

“Alright, now back to the main attraction. What do you want with this alleged “Lalo” person?” Saul asked, sitting down. You cautiously sat in the chair behind you as well.

“Six years ago, Lalo Salamanca kidnapped me from my job at Los Pollos Hermanos. I was working the closing shift and everyone else had left. He grabbed me as I was leaving and shoved a wet rag in my mouth. I woke up in the condo we’ve been living in for six years. He threatened my family if I ever left. But I… I saw my mother today, at a stoplight. And now I’m here.”

“Look, I don’t want to ruffle your feathers too much, mama bird, but when it comes to Lalo, I usually lay down and take it up the ass, uh so to speak.”

“Are you saying after all this, after I find your business card in a dark closet and call your number, that Mr. Speedy Justice can’t help me?”

He laughed nervously, glancing around the room. His eyes stopped on Lettie.

“Is… is she…?”

“He raped me. Over and over, for months until he was sure I was pregnant. And now I’m pregnant again,” you stated, blinking back tears. If this man couldn’t help you, you were out of time. Lalo would punish you. Maybe even hurt your family. You were so close to seeing them again, you could feel it.

“Let me give my girlfriend a call. She works at a big firm and I’m sure she’ll take your case pro-bono. Now, I’m not a big fan of the coppers but I think it would be best to call APD and have them assigned to your family members in case word gets back to Papa Lalo.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Here,” he tossed you a black burner phone.

As Saul called his girlfriend, you typed in 911 and hoped to god that you weren’t making the biggest mistake of your life.

#lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul x reader #lalo salamanca imagine #better call saul imagine #lalo salamanca #better call saul

[merz-8]

my hyperfixations keep me from killing myself so please just let me be delusional and dream of fictional older men and their big brown eyes and massive cocks

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #aaron hotchner #john wick #john wick x reader #tlou joel #javier pena x reader #javier peña #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #john wick imagine #fluff and smut #john wick smut #joel miller x f!reader

[genocidehim]

Nacho and Lalo both showing interest in the same girl and trying to woo her so they can share her?

notes: render is female, pre-throuple, Lalo is Lalo and Nacho tries to keep up with him. words: 930

It was a strange night in an even stranger club. Lalo didn't seem to be in sync with how his dealers were having fun, let alone the chicanos working for Tuco. But since Tuco wasn't there anymore, it was Lalo's turn to take charge. That included attending those out-of-place gatherings where everyone drank and looked for any girl to hook up with quickly and smoke something together. Lalo was probably too old for those things, but there was no excuse for Nacho. He was so uninterested in attending that he just stayed in a corner, talking and drinking with Lalo about business. It was the only thing they talked about, as if they truly had no interest in wasting their time on trivial matters.

Lalo kept watching the people around him while Nacho was more interested in staring at the liquid in his beer, moving the bottle back and forth as he listened to reggaeton playing in the background.

"Eh, cabrón. Mira a esa vieja"(Hey, man. Look at that lady) Lalo's voice snapped Nacho out of his trance, with a pat on his shoulder and a nod with his lips, Lalo pointed at you.

You were near the speakers, trying to ignore the guy who wouldn't stop hitting on you despite your persistent refusals.

"Está bien chula la cabrona..."(She's quite hot, damn...) Lalo mentioned with a smile on his face, quickly glancing at Nacho and realizing that he seemed interested too.

"Es bonita" (She's pretty) Nacho was somewhat reserved. He had seen you before and exchanged a few words with you in the past, but nothing too serious.

"¿Bonita? No mames, es un pinche mujerón" (Pretty? Damn, she's a fucking bombshell)

Both of them kept looking at you for a few minutes until you decided to move from that spot and walk towards the bar, resting your arms on the counter and turning your back to them. Lalo chuckled, and Nacho looked away when he realized he was being too obvious. However, Lalo wasn't exactly the most subtle guy in the world, so he soon got up from where he was and walked over to the bar to stand next to you. He wasted no time ordering a tequila on the rocks and offering you a drink.

"You look a bit bored, darling" Lalo mentioned as he leaned on the bar and observed you closely.

"More than bored, somewhat disappointed" you said as you took a sip of your drink.

"Disappointed?" he asked with a more interested tone. "And why is that, princess?"

"I thought the men here would be more interesting, but all they do is brag about their money and their guns."

Lalo noticed how you briefly glanced at the revolver he had on the edge of his jeans and made a comment with an obvious hint. Perhaps he thought you were already shutting him down to prevent him from trying to flirt with you.

"You should have gone somewhere else, sweetheart. What were you expecting living in a place like this?" he teased, and you saw something in his eyes that sparkled in the darkness of the club.

"Not you, definitely" you replied playfully. Lalo noticed your wit and smiled. "Aren't you a bit too old to be in clubs like this?"

"Don't let the gray hair deceive you, darling." Instead of getting offended, Lalo became even more interested in you. Not many girls mentioned his age and avoided his flirting. "Don't you like mature men?"

"It depends..."

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on whether he can buy me another whisky or not."

Your words made him burst into laughter due to your straightforward way of speaking. If Lalo was literally interested in you before, now he had your undivided attention.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the club, Nacho watched as Lalo made moves on you and seemed to be succeeding. Something inside him bothered him. He didn't precisely know what it was, but he felt uncomfortable seeing how easily Lalo managed to get close to you when Nacho had previously struggled to approach you with intentions of flirting. Nacho took one last sip of his beer, got up from where he was, walked towards the two of you, and positioned himself next to you to order another beer.

"Nachito" Lalo caught Ignacio's attention, also making you look at him. "Don't you want to join the conversation? Here, our lovely... What's your name, sweetheart?"

After telling him your name, Lalo smiled and continued. "Here, our little princess thinks Mexican men are boring. What do you think about that?"

"No, no. I didn't say they were boring" you laughed as you shook your head.

Nacho furrowed his brow and smiled at you, leaning a bit closer to get a better look at you.

"We're boring?" Nacho's voice had a playful tone.

"I didn't say you were boring... Your friend here is just misinterpreting my words" you excused yourself while pointing at Lalo, who simply raised his hands and feigned innocence.

"So... the princess thinks we only show off money and guns, huh?" Lalo added as he took a sip of the new beer he had ordered.

"Well, only idiots boast about those things" Nacho added, looking at you, and you looked back at him. You revealed a certain chemistry between the two of you.

"I think you need to meet real men, darling..."

Lalo exchanged a knowing glance with Nacho, and he understood what he meant. They both moved a bit closer to you, and you felt Lalo's warm hand resting on the lower part of your back.

#better call saul x reader #breaking bad x reader #bcs x reader #nacho varga #nacho varga x reader #nacho bcs #ignacio varga #one short #request #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca imagine

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Practicar - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

when you bought weed from tuco, one of his guys said something rude to you in spanish. one thing he said sticks with you, so you ask lalo about it when you get home. he tells you what it means, and decides to teach you some more of the language while smoking up.

tags/warnings: intoxication (weed and poppers), homophobic/transphobic slurs, degradation/humiliation, hair-pulling, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, squirting, pussy slapping

anatomical terms: chest, cunt, pussy, dick, t-dick, chocho, pija

words: 7,979 (we smoke CRACK!!!!!!!!!!!!)

ao3 link

author's notes: in which i am a dumb stoner with a lalo shaped brain tumor <3 no soy un hablante nativo pero estoy aprendiendo. la escritura es como yo practico. ¡por favor corríjanme si encuentran algunos errores! :3

“This is ridiculous. Are you guys seriously not gonna tell me what it means? It can’t be THAT bad.”

You groaned. You were in the backseat of the car as Marco and Leonel drove you home, dead silent, as usual. All you wanted to do was buy weed, but Lalo won’t let you unless it’s from the family. He doesn’t trust any other source. Okay, that’s fair, plus it’d be kinda rude to buy from his competition, right? So, you had to buy from Tuco. Sure, not a problem. The twins picked you up and gave you a ride over. Great. You were a little annoyed that Lalo didn’t even want you driving there by yourself, but whatever. Everything’s fine. Once you got the weed from Tuco, one of his guys said something stupid about you in Spanish, and Tuco snapped and started beating the shit out of him. You caught most of it, since Lalo had been teaching you the language, but there was one phrase that mystified you. It sounded like a slang term, and Lalo hadn’t taught you many colloquialisms yet. You had asked what he said, but no one would tell you. Tuco was too busy giving him impromptu plastic surgery; none of the other guys in the room would dare speak up; and Marco and Leonel dragged you out of there once the guy’s teeth started flying through the air.

It seemed like everyone in the Salamanca family treated you like a child, like you were a helpless little thing who couldn’t possibly protect himself. Shit, even Lalo was guilty of it, too. He didn’t even trust you to make the drive alone; he asked the twins to pick you up. It was infuriating. You seethed the entire ride back to his place.

When you got there, you stormed inside, pissed off, releasing a cloud of noxious vibes into the house. Lalo was there to greet you, and he sniffed it out immediately. “Dios mío, conejito, ¿qué pasó? (My god, bunny, what happened?) You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off! Tuco didn’t give you any trouble did h-?”

You shot him straight, interrupting him mid-sentence, not even saying hello, “What’s a chichifo travelo?” you barked at him and crossed your arms over your chest.

Lalo’s concern bled into pure confusion, and then, for some reason, cheerfulness. He burst out laughing. A deep, rich belly laugh that had him doubling over and slapping his thigh. What? What the hell? What was so funny? “Oh! Oh my god, sorry, just. Just give me a second, woo!”

You groaned. “Can you just tell me what it means?”

Lalo’s laughter fizzled out, and he managed to compose himself. He stood upright, looked back down at you. “Well, chichifo is kinda like a… gigolo? Is that how you say it in English? It’s basically a male prostitute, y’know. And then, travelo…” His eyes trailed down to your chest, a few buttons of your shirt undone, and he sighed. He patted you on the shoulder, and gave you a somber expression. “...travelo is basically ‘tranny’.”

The lightbulb turned on. “Ohhh…” you replied, the flames of your burning rage subdued now that you had an answer. You uncrossed your arms and rested your hands on your hips. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

Lalo furrowed his brow and took his hand off your shoulder. “Makes sense? What happened? Nobody called you that, did they?” He gave you a look of empathy and concern that masked the fury brewing inside him.

You shrugged. “One of Tuco’s guys did, I guess. When I got there, Marco and Leonel took me inside and waited with me. While I was talking to Tuco, one of his guys said something like…” You paused to recall what he said as best as you could. “‘¿De… ¿De verdad? ¿Esta es la pareja nueva de Lalo? ¿Este chichifo travelo? (Really? This is Lalo’s new partner? This tranny hooker?)’ I didn’t hear all of it, but I figured it was some bullshit since Tuco started wailing on him and-”

“Stop.” Now, Lalo was the one to cut you off, his cold voice slicing through your dialogue like a steel blade, “Someone called you that? In front of the family?”

“Yeah,” You replied nonchalantly. “Tuco took care of it. He knocked the guy onto the floor and fucked him up pretty badly. The twins grabbed me and led me outside after that. No one would tell me what it means.”

Lalo frowned, “They probably wanted me to be the one to explain it to you, chiquito. No one should have to hear that. Is everyone else still there?”

“The twins aren’t. They took me home.” You pondered for a second. “But I think Tuco is. I doubt the other guy is still breathing though.” You nervously tried to laugh it off.

But Lalo wasn’t laughing. “Alright then,” He patted your shoulders before moving with determination to get something out of a cabinet. ”Ven conmigo. Vamos a ver Tuco y el pendejo que te ha dicho esa mierda a tí. (Come with me. We’re going to see Tuco and the asshole who said that shit to you.)” He turned around, holding a loaded pistol with a silencer on it. Why?! Why?! Why?! Who the fuck just has that locked, loaded, and ready to go, just chilling in the living room cabinet like it’s a cheap airport knickknack?! Apparently, your boyfriend did, and since you lived here too, technically you did by extension.

You jumped when you saw the gun. “¡¿Q-Qué?! (What?!)” You asked, your brain flipping through pages of an English-Spanish dictionary as fast as it could, “No… no tienes que hacer eso. De verdad. Estoy bien. (You… You don’t have to do that. Really. I’m fine.)” You gave him an insecure smile, a sheepish grin that you hoped said: For the love of God, man, let it go. It’s not that deep.

Lalo wasn’t budging. He opened the front door, and turned to you, casually waving you outside with a 9mm handgun like an extension of his hand. “Ven. Conmigo. (Come. With me.)”

Thankfully, the whims of fate saved you from yet another aggravating car ride. Two in the same day was more than enough. Lalo’s phone started ringing, right on cue. He took it out of his pocket and squinted to read the name.

“Is that Tuco?” you asked. He nodded in your direction, and touched the silencer to his own lips. Be quiet. You understood.

Lalo flipped the phone open and laughed, as if this was the most normal conversation you could have with your cousin. “¡Tuco! ¿Qué chingados pasaba hoy? ¿Uno de tus vatos le llamaba mi chico un chichifo travelo? (Tuco! What the fuck happened today? One of your guys called my boy a tranny whore?)” 

He let Tuco speak for a moment before continuing. You couldn’t hear anything coherent from the outside, but it sure was loud. “Primo, primo, cálmate. Cálmate. No puedo entenderte cuando dices tan fuerte. Toma un respiro profundamente y dime que pasaba. (Cousin, cousin, calm down. Calm down. I can’t understand you when you talk so loud. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.)” 

Lalo stopped talking, and the sound on the other line was much quieter. You couldn’t hear anything besides Lalo now. “Sí, sí, yo sé que él dijo eso. ¿Había algo más? (Yeah, yeah, I know he said that. Was there anything else?)” Silence. “¿Me llamó un maricón? ¿De verdad? Ha! Te le ocupaste, ¿cierto? (He called me a faggot? Really? Ha! You took care of him, right?)” Silence again. “¿No está respirando? ¿Estás seguro? Bien, bien hecho, pero déjame terminarlo la próxima vez.  (He’s not breathing? Are you sure? Good, good job, but let me finish him off next time.)” Silence once more. “Sí, por supuesto, yo diré tío. Él va a estar muy orgulloso de tí. ¡Bien! Entonces, nos hablaremos tarde, ¿cierto? Bien. ¡Chao! (Yeah, of course, I’ll tell Uncle. He’s going to be very proud of you. Alright! Well, we’ll talk later, yeah? Okay. Bye!)”

He flipped his phone shut and stood still for a moment. Then another. Then another. Until he shrugged, and went to put the gun away. You sighed in relief, letting the air permeate your lungs and your body relax once again. Once the cabinet was closed, Lalo approached you to cup your face in his hands and kiss your forehead. 

“Perdóname, chiquito. (Forgive me, baby boy.) You were right. I should have listened. I just can’t bear to let anything happen to you. No one can say such horrific things to you and come away with his life. I wanted to make things right. Do you understand? ¿Me comprendes?” Lalo did that a lot. He would say something in English and repeat it in Spanish, a signal to answer him in kind.

“Sí. Te comprendo (I understand you).” You sighed, nudged him off you, and switched back to English. “It’s just… aggravating that you don’t trust me. I can handle myself just fine, y’know.”

Lalo simpered. “I do trust you, nene (baby). I just don’t trust everyone else. I need to keep my baby boy safe, yeah?” He could see you pouting, so he knew he had to change the topic. “So! How’d it go otherwise? ¿Conseguiste que tú necesitabas de Tuco? (Did you get what you needed from Tuco?)”

Having to translate made you forget what you were upset about. Your response took a moment to buffer, and you perked up when it finished loading.. “...¡Sí! Sí, yo hice. Acá. (Yes! Yes, I did. Here.)” You pulled a ziplock bag full of weed out of your pocket, and excitedly showed it to Lalo. “Mirálo. (Look at this.)”

Lalo examined the bag, first by appearance. Large nugs, dark green with flecks of orange and purple, blooming flowers, no big stems. Looked alright. He cracked open the bag and sniffed it. A dank, earthy, almost musty smell wafted through the air. It was fresh. Smelled alright. He took a nug in between his fingers and squeezed it, snapping it apart easily. Felt alright. Yep, Salamanca product. Not that he had any doubts, mind you. He was just doing quality control. A businessman, through and through.

“That’s the good stuff.” Lalo said as he put the torn nug back in the bag and zipped it shut. “Tuco did you right. How much he charge you?”

You took the bag back. “He said I was getting the ‘family discount’, so $100 for the ounce. He weighed it in front of me, don’t worry. Plus, he said he’ll give me some for free next time. I guess that’s the ‘sorry I practically killed a man in front of you’ discount.” 

Lalo smiled. “That's a pretty good deal, even with the family discount. And free drugs? Now that's just a win-win.” He patted your back. “So I take it you'll be buying off him in the future?”

You couldn’t hide your excitement. “Yeah man! Shit, dude, if I wasn't already sleeping with you, I definitely would for a hookup like this!”

He chuckled and laid his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer. “You have no shame, huh?”

There was some truth to that statement. “None. And you love it.” You giggled and booped his nose. 

“Maybe I do, chico,” He booped yours back, “Y’know, I should really teach you more slang. You gotta be able to fire back if someone talks to you like that, right?”

“Do I?” You teased, hugging him closer to you and putting on your best faux-innocent tone. “Can’t I just have you take care of it? You gotta keep your baby boy safe, don’t you?”

Lalo snickered, eager to play along. “Oh? What happened to being able to handle yourself? Do you need your man to take care of you?”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think about it while you rubbed his back. “Maybe I do, chico.” You made sure to punctuate that last word, knowing it’d set him off.

And it did. “Oh, you’re bad. Using my words against me? Debes estar castigado por eso, ¿estás de acuerdo? (You should be punished for that, don’t you think?)”

You giggled and nodded. The word “castigado” was escaping you right now, but you figured you’d press your luck and agree nonetheless.

Lalo clocked you, because of course he did. His bullshit detector was in perfect working order. “You don’t know what I said, do you?” You didn’t need to answer; he could see it in your face. He pried your arms off his back and pinned them to your sides. “That’s why I gotta teach you. C’mon, it’ll be fun I promise.” He let you go and pointed at your bag of weed. “Podemos fumar esa mota mientras hacemos, ¿sí? (We can smoke that weed while we do it, yeah?)”

“Mota?” You tilted your head. “Is that weed?” 

“Good boy! That’s right!” He ruffled your hair and you squeaked. Sometimes, being babied and talked down to felt nice, from him, at least. “Entonces, te necesito sentarte en el sofá. Vayas. (Now, I need you to get on the couch. Go.)" He tapped your head as encouragement.

Once you translated your assignment, you walked over to the couch and plopped down. “Want me to pack us a bowl?”

“I was hoping you would.” Lalo sat down next to you and pulled the coffee table closer. 

On the table, you had a grinder, rolling tray, and bong ready to go. You opened the bag and let the odor dissipate into the air. Then, you picked a couple nugs out of the bag and ground them up before dumping the weed on the tray. Once it was ground up, you went to grab the bong, but stopped. Apparently, it’d been a while since you’d changed the water. It was almost brown and had chunks floating in it. Plus, the actual bong itself was stained. “Oh, shit,” You turned to Lalo, “I should probably clean it, huh?”

Lalo grabbed your hand to stop you. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It'll be just fine until next time. I 

actually like it the way it is. Just the right amount of filth to prove how much it gets used.”

You snorted. He walked right into this one. “Just like me, huh?”

He groaned, but with a smile. “Ugh, I knew you'd make that joke. But honestly, I can't disagree.” He let go of your hand and squeezed your thigh. “Just like you.”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek and went back to packing the bowl, his hand still on your thigh. “Got a lighter?” you asked once you were done. 

Lalo grinned. “¿Sabes cómo preguntarme en español? (Do you know how to ask me in Spanish?)” 

You weren’t sure, but you’d sure as hell try. “Tienes un… (Do you have a…) fuck… ¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) ‘lighter’?”

“Encendedor.” Lalo replied and took a fancy silver zippo out of his pocket, bougie as always. You went to grab it but he yanked it back. “Ah! Not until you ask for it correctly.”

You sighed, clearly fed up with his teasing, or maybe you just really wanted to smoke. Nevertheless, you did what he wanted. He watched the gears in your head turn. “Puedo… ¿Puedo usar tu encendedor? (Can I borrow your lighter?)”

“Bien hecho, chiquito! (Good job, baby boy!)” Lalo pulled you in for a hug and petted your hair again. “¡Tan inteligente! Claro que sí, tú puedes. (So smart! Of course, you can.)” When he was done patronizing you, he handed you the lighter.

You took the lighter in your hand and his lips in yours, but only for a second. There was weed to be smoked. Your lips then went to the mouthpiece of the bong. There was something about it, all the preparation that went into it, it was like a choreographed dance. A flick of the lighter, a singe of the flower, and a deep breath in, a really deep breath. The smoke would build; the water would bubble. You’d pull away and wait, just a moment, before you let it all out, blowing out a cloud of pure smoke, like a dragon doing a half-assed job of burning down the village and terrorizing the townspeople. You didn’t cough. How sexy of you. You glanced over at Lalo and wiggled your eyebrows, a kind of What do you think of that?, before you passed it over to him.

He laughed and said “You are too much, conejito.” before lighting up himself. 

You laid back against the couch and crossed your arms behind your head. “Hm… conejito. What’s that mean?” You hummed.

Lalo blew the smoke out and coughed slightly. You giggled. Pussy. He cleared his throat to answer you. “It means bunny. Why? Do you not like it? I can call you something else.” He passed the bong to you.

“No, I like it. Was just wondering.” You answered before taking another hit, a big one too. This time you coughed when you let it out. Hubris. Maybe Lalo wasn’t a pussy. “What’d you wanna teach me anyway? Some more slurs?” You took another hit and passed it to him, the two of you establishing a good rhythm as you rehearsed your choreography. Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“If you want, I can. You know travelo, yeah? That’s yours.” He pointed at your chest, with the hand that was holding the lighter. “Both of us can say maricón. That’s how you say faggot.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Oh, yeah,” You nodded. “I thought I heard the guy say that about you.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Yeah, apparently he did. No big deal. I’ve heard it so many times now. I’m sorry you had to hear it, though.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“I’m fine, trust me. ‘S not like I haven’t heard it in English before anyway.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Well, either language, some pendejo says that to you, you tell me, alright?” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Pendejo? What’s that, asshole?” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“More or less, yeah. Literal definition is pubic hair.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Ha! That’s funny. You just call people pubes? I like that.” Flick, singe, pull, out… Why was nothing coming out? Did you two burn through a bowl that quickly? You poked the ash into the center of the bowl and tried to light it. No dice. “Aw, boo.” You pouted and set the bong and lighter back on the table. Well, now that you weren’t smoking, you could take a moment to feel yourself getting high. You snuggled up close to Lalo, resting your head on his chest. He always smelled so fucking nice.

Lalo wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in tighter. “Relax, baby. We’ll smoke some more in a bit. Gives us more freedom to talk, eh?”

“Mmm… okay…” You hummed, though honestly, you weren’t sure you had the brain power to talk much right now. You dragged your fingers along his chest before honking one of his pecs. You giggled. “Hehehe… titty… how do you say that in Spanish?”

Lalo snorted. “Oh, wow, you’re cute when you’re high. ‘Titty’ is teta. Is that what you wanna know? You wanna know all the naughty words? Dirty boy.”

Another loopy laugh from you. “Niño sucio (Dirty boy).” You rolled onto your stomach and slid down, resting your head in his lap. You were staring right at his bulge. He was only slightly hard, but mouthwateringly so. Weed told you to touch him, so you palmed his shaft through his jeans, hoping to pump him up in more ways than one. For some godforsaken reason, weed was also showing you Spanish vocabulary flash cards. “¿Y este aquí? (And this here?)”

Lalo snickered and brushed your hair out of your face, making sure he had your undivided attention. “Verga.”

“Verga.” You echoed, licking your lips as they curled around the word. They were a bit dry from smoking. Oh well, you’d find a way to wet them. Weed was working wonders for you, a better wingman than most had been. You giggled yet again as you rubbed him. “Entonces… se puede… se puede decir… (So… you could… you could say…)” You darkened the color of your voice to a sultry hue. “‘Dame tu verga.’ ¿sí? Se puede decir ‘Qui-... Quiero tu verga, Lalito,’ ¿verdad? (“Give me your cock,” yeah? You could say “I want… I want your cock, Lalito,” right?)

Lalo chuckled. Even with your stuttering, even with your clouded mind, he loved hearing you so hot and bothered for him. Plus, he loved that you gave him the Spanish diminutive. “¿Lalito, eh? Me gusta eso. Y sí, tienes razón. Muy bien. (Lalito, eh? I like that. And yes, you’re right. Very good.)” He sighed and petted your hair, making you scooch further into his lap. “Me encanta cuando hablas español. Suenas tan lindo. (I love it when you speak Spanish. You sound so cute.)”

He was getting harder; you could feel it. You cupped your hand and stroked him through the denim, looking up at him with the most sickly sweet eyes you could give. Saying nothing, just doing. After a while, you couldn’t help but laugh, a goofy smile to match. “You’re pretty…”

Lalo laughed too, feeling a little buzzed himself. Just a little, nowhere near your level. He had quite the tolerance. “Oh, am I now? You’re quite the looker yourself.” He reached his arm out to grab your ass. “¿Sabes qué es esto? ¿Sabes qué se llama? (You know what this is? You know what it’s called?)”

You put your finger to your lips to think. Your brain was working as fast as a dialup router in Bumfuck, Wyoming during the Clinton administration. Lightspeed. Probably 4 years later when you had your answer, you seeked Lalo’s approval. “¿Culo? (Ass?)”

“Sí, es verdad. Bien hecho. ¿Cómo sabías eso? (Yes, that’s right. Good job. How did you know that?)” Lalo gave you a firm spank, the sharp sting diffused by your pants blocking the shot. “Chico travieso. No te enseñé eso. (Naughty boy. I didn’t teach you that.)”

“Hey! Did you just call me a tranny? I know that one!” You shouted at him in a mirthful tone, showing that your anger was in jest.

Lalo scoffed. “Travieso, not travelo. It means naughty. And it’s true. Eres un chiquito travieso (You are a naughty little boy).” He spanked you again, harder this time, making you yelp. “And so what if I called you a tranny? You like it when I call you names, don’t you?”

You whined and buried your face in his lap, not wanting to bear your shame to him. “Mm… Maybe…”

Lalo wheezed and tousled your hair again. You could feel his dick twitch as he did. “I knew it! I know you so well. I told you you’re a naughty boy! I bet there’s a lot of names you’d like me to call you. I can teach you some fun ones in Spanish, too. Isn’t that right, ¿putito? ¿Sabes qué eso significa? (...little whore? You know what that means?)”

You were lucky that his clothes muffled whatever pathetic noise you just made. You didn’t take your face out of his lap, not wanting to let him see you blush. He could play you like a fiddle, and you weren’t sure whether you hated it or loved it. “...Sí.” you mumbled into his leg.

Lalo patted your head. “Entonces, dímelo. (So tell me.)”

You stood corrected. He wasn’t playing you like a fiddle; that was almost too plebeian. He was playing you like a world-class soloist performing Sibelius’s Violin Concerto in D minor on their 10 million dollar Stradivarius, a master of his craft. You answered barely above a whisper, “Little bitch…”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He tugged your hair, pulling your face out into the open, into his line of fire. “Look at me, and say it again. What does it mean? What did I call you?” 

Your lip trembled as you replied. “Little bitch…”

“That’s right! Good boy!” He praised you by tugging on your hair again, just how you like it, just how to make you sing for him. “It means more than just bitch, though. Little whore, little slut, it’s very useful. It suits you.” He released you from his grip, letting your head fall back down into his lap.

Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was his words, but something pushed you. You went right back to teasing his cock through his pants, running your tongue across the scratchy fabric, open-mouth kisses on his bulge. You wanted it. You wanted it bad, but you didn’t have the words to ask. Well, in English, that is. Weed gave you the answer in Spanish. You gave him the saddest puppy dog eyes. “¿Lo puedo? (Can I?)” 

Lalo gave you a proud smile, happy to see you embracing the language, but he needed more than that. “¿Puedes hacer qué, muñequito? (Can you do what, doll?)” 

Weed could only do so much. You still had to figure out what the hell you were actually asking for. “Quiero… quiero usar mi boca… en tu… en tu verga. Quiero usar mi boca en tu verga. ¿Lo puedo, Lalito? (I want… I want to use my mouth… on your… on your cock. I want to use my mouth on your cock. Can I, Lalito?)” 

Lalo chuckled warmly. You were adorable. “¿Quieres chupar mi verga? Si quieres, debes decirlo primero. Dime ‘Quiero chupar tu verga, Lalito,’ y dilo fuerte. Quiero oírte decirlo. (You want to suck my cock? If you want it, you have to say it first. Say “I want to suck your cock, Lalito,” and say it loud. I want to hear you say it.)” 

Like he said earlier, you have no shame, so you had no problem doing exactly what he asked you, and then some. “Quiero chupar tu verga, Lalito. Dámelo. Dámelo, por favor. (I want to suck your cock, Lalito. Give it to me. Give it to me, please.)”

“My, my, aren’t you eager!” Lalo stroked your cheek. “But, just so you know, it’s dámela, in this case. Verga is feminine. Ironic isn’t it?”

“Really?” You giggled, easily distracted from what you were begging for just moments ago. “So then is ‘pussy’ masculine? I can roll with that.”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Lalo responded, “In Spain, they call it a coño, and here you can say chocho. There’s also chocha, panocha, we got a lot of words for it.”

“So what do you call mine?” You asked with a cheeky grin.

Lalo returned the teasing energy and played along, but only to let you know who was in control here. His deep voice rumbled in his chest. “Do a good job and I’ll tell you.” He tapped your cheek. “C’mon. You said you wanted it, right?”

You’d momentarily forgotten how horny you were thanks to his distraction. You scrambled to undo his gaudy belt, tugging it through his jeans and tossing it onto the floor. Clumsy fingers patted around to find his fly, and eventually found what they were looking for. You undid the button, the zipper, and ineloquently dug your hand in, snickering as you grabbed his cock and pulled it out. 

“Hehehe…” Amused with the situation you found yourself in, you fluttered your tongue across the tip, back and forth, making sure to keep his eye contact as you gave him nothing more than a facsimile of pleasure. You felt like messing with him, just a little bit. Weed was always a trickster. 

Lalo raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you got? Okay,” He sighed, and leaned over you towards the paraphernalia on the table. He put a few nugs in the grinder and started to twist. “If all you’re gonna do is bore me like that, I might as well have some fun of my own.” He emptied the contents of the grinder onto the tray and started to pack a bowl. You stopped moving your tongue and tilted your head up at him, silently begging like a dog eyeing up his owner’s lunch. “No. Not until I think you’ve earned it. Get to work.” He chided.

You did as you were told and began to service him properly. Your tongue moved with purpose, mapping out his most sensitive spots. His slit, so you could coax more precum out. Underneath his foreskin and around his head, you knew he was sensitive there. Down his length so you could coat him in as much spit as you’d need. You were just warming him up for now, but nevertheless, you gave it your all.

Lalo was unphased, smoking the bong without a care in the world as you debased yourself for him. Business as usual. Your partnered dance was now a solo, and one of the steps had changed: flick, singe, pull, out, repeat. He whistled as he blew the smoke out. “There we go! That’s more like it. Ya realmente pareces como un putito. Te queda bien. ¿Estás de acuerdo?  (You really look like a little slut now. It suits you. Don’t you agree?)” He took another hit and blew the smoke down into your face. “¿Entonces? Respóndeme. Respóndeme en español, te chico sucio. (Well? Answer me. Answer me in Spanish, you dirty boy.)”

You withdrew your tongue to answer him, your voice breathy and weak. “Sí… me gusta… me gusta esto… (Yes… I like… I like this…)”

“¿Qué te gusta? ¿Te gusta chupar verga como el maricón patético que tú eres? (What do you like? You like sucking cock like the pathetic faggot you are?)” 

You moaned a non-verbal answer and took him back into your mouth, relaxing your throat and welcoming him inside. You let him take over all five of your senses. Sight: you’d glance up at him to make sure he was satisfied. Sound: the click of the lighter, the bubbling of the bong, the exhale of the smoke, the soft sighs and grunts of a job well done. Scent: you huffed in his aftershave and musk as your tongue touched his balls. Touch: the weight on your tongue, the calloused fingers brushing your hair out of your face. Taste: that one was obvious. Suddenly, a sour scent sliced through these simultaneous sensations. It smelled like pool chlorine on a hot summer day, but you were inside. Inside and on a couch in the living room. What the hell could that possibly be? Your eyelids snapped open and you stared up at Lalo, who was holding a small bottle up to his face, bong nowhere in sight. 

Lalo poked one of his nostrils shut and snorted whatever was in the bottle. The contents shot up his nose and his face crinkled up instantly. He gasped and screwed the bottle shut before putting it back in his shirt pocket. “Mierda, está bien… (Shit, that’s good…)” He rolled his shoulders back as his head lulled to the side. “Ah… Acá… (Here…)” His fingers knotted in your hair, using it as a makeshift handle for your head, pulling you up and down his cock. “Déjame ayudarte… (Let me help you…)”

In helping you, he was really helping himself. There was nothing helpful about his hold on you. He used your mouth as a hole, a mere toy for him to get himself off.  His hips jerked up into you to bury himself even deeper. He pushed you all the way down, until your nose touched his stomach, and you gagged. You spat up more saliva around his cock, making him groan in pleasure. He took you off so you could breathe, after you were done coughing up spit and precum, that is. You panted heavily while Lalo reached over you again, praising you as he did, “Oh, that’s a good boy…” Out of nowhere, you felt cold glass touch your lips.

Lalo was holding the bong up to you, a reward for your efforts.  “C’mon, take a hit. You’ve earned it.” 

You puckered your lips around the mouthpiece, and nodded, a signal that you were ready. He lit the fuse, and thus, the dance was partnered again. When you were done with your turn, you blew the smoke out and pointed at his shirt pocket. “What's that?” you asked.

“Oh, this?” Lalo set the bong and lighter back on the table and pulled the small bottle out of his pocket. He brought it down so you could see the label. You squinted to read the fine print. What the fuck? Nail polish remover? He’s a cartel boss. He can get all the drugs he could ever want, so why on earth would he be huffing that?, you thought. He must have sensed your confusion, so he explained himself before you could ask. “Amyl nitrite. It’s an aphrodisiac. The label’s just for legal purposes. Can’t say what it’s really for without the feds getting involved, y’know? You sniff it and it gives you a quick rush. Makes things feel pretty intense for the next minute or so. You wanna try it?”

Your eyes went from the label to Lalo, and then back to the label. You weren’t sure about this, but if Lalo did it, it was probably safe. You shrugged and went to grab it, but Lalo pulled it back.

“Hey, hey! Easy there! I’ll tell you when.” He put the bottle back in his pocket and ruffled your hair once more. “It’s a short burst so we gotta make it count, alright? Now,” He yanked your hair again, pulling your head up from his lap and sitting you up. “Let’s make it count.” 

He caught you in a kiss faster than you could process. He was hungry, tongue invading your mouth, biting your lip, teeth clashing. You were too stoned to react in turn. All you could do is let him take what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. All of you. He broke the kiss to pull your shirt off and toss it on the floor. His large hands palmed your chest as he growled in your ear.

“Tan hermoso. No tienes idea de todos las cosas malas que yo quiero hacer a tí. (So gorgeous. You have no idea of all the bad things I want to do to you.)” Lalo pinched your nipples and tugged them out, making you howl in bittersweet pleasure. “Me vuelves pinche loco. (You drive me fucking crazy.)” He let go of your nipples and reached for the bong again, your body swaying left and right without his hands to support you. “Ándale, puto, hazlo otra vez. Dale una otra fumada. Quiero volverte agradable y tonto para mí. (Come on, slut, do it again. Take another hit. I want you to get nice and silly for me.)”

Dazed and confused, you weren’t entirely sure what he just asked you, but context clues were a big help. You barely had the brainpower to keep yourself upright, let alone go against him. Lips on the mouthpiece, flame on the flower, smoke in the lungs, and then smoke in the air. 

“Buen chico. ¿Cómo te sientes? (Good boy. How do you feel?)” He asked. You answered with a ditzy smile and a nod. “Bien, bien. ¿Quieres continuar? (Good, good. You want to keep going?)” Another nod. Lalo chuckled and gave you a gentle kiss. “Yo sé que querrías. Chico sucio. (I knew that you would. Dirty boy.) He pushed you onto your back, and you melted into the couch cushions. You hummed contentedly, mesmerized by the plush fabric. You raised an arm to caress the back of the couch. It was just so soft. Did it always feel this nice? Wait… was the room colder now? Two firm hands grabbed your legs and pulled them apart, which posed another question…

Where were your pants?

Lalo must have slipped them off while you were conducting field research on furniture upholstery. He smirked up at you between your legs, his mouth hovering over your pussy. “Entonces, quisiste saber que yo llame este? (So, you wanted to know what I call this?)”

“Ah… y-yes, Lalo…” You whined, not even bothering to translate anymore. 

That wasn’t gonna fly. Lalo frowned, and gave your cunt a harsh spank. You yelped and your hips thrust upwards. It was a pleasant sting, sure, but why? You couldn’t figure out what you had done wrong. “Wha…?! What’d I do- oh!” Another slap stopped you short. 

The gentle tone you heard was a stark contrast to the searing pain you felt fizzle away. “En español, querido. Tienes que practicar conmigo. Eso es porque estamos haciendo esto. (In Spanish, sweetheart. You have to practice with me. That’s why we’re doing this.)” He gave you a second to process that. With how spaced out you were, he could’ve given you an hour and it may not have been enough. “Ya, me quieres decirte que yo llame este aquí? (Now, you want me to tell you what I call this here?)” He traced a finger up and down your slit. You were already soaked, because of course you were. 

You whimpered and answered with a mediocre translation of your thoughts. “S-Sí… ¿Qué… ¿Qué es? (Y-Yes… What… What is it?)”

Lalo’s eyes held such reverence for you. You were just too cute for your own good. “Hm… Vamos a ver… (Let’s see…)” He pondered,  “Eres un caso especial. Entonces, creo que yo llamaría este… (You’re a special case. So, I think I would call this…)” 

His thumb flicked over your t-dick and your lower half jolted in response. “Una pija. Sí, tiene sentido para tí. Y este… (A dick. Yeah, that makes sense for you. And this…)” 

He slid two fingers inside you and pressed them up into your g-spot, and pressed his thumb on your dick simultaneously. The sound that came out of you was nothing short of desperate. He laughed. “Creo que ‘chocho’ te quede. (I think ‘cunt’ suits you.)” 

He twirled and rubbed his fingers inside and against you as he kept talking about your body. “Si eres algo especial, de verdad. Me encanta tu chocho, ¿sabes eso? Como apretado se siente, como mojado se vuelve cuando lo toco. Me encanta todo. No puedo esperar que llene tí. (You really are something special. I love your cunt, do you know that? How tight it feels, how wet it gets when I touch it. I love it all. I can’t wait to fill you up.)”

Your head was empty. The only thought occupying it was the fact that your hole wasn’t empty. Lalo knew just how to work you; he knew exactly what to do to make you beg, and you did instinctively. “Lalo… Lalo… Lalo, please… please fuck me… Ah!”

He had pulled his hand away from you and brought it down hard against your sensitive skin. “Te dije no inglés. (I told you no English.)” He got up onto his knees and grabbed your hips, lining himself up with your entrance. “¿Sabes que decir ‘fuck’ en español? (Do you know how to say fuck in Spanish?)”

You shook your head.

Lalo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Follar,” and then pushed inside of you. 

You cried out and wrapped your limbs around him, clinging onto him as if you were scared to let him go. Your hole did the same, pulsating around his fat cock.

Lalo sighed and caressed your cheek. “Oh, te siento tan bien. (You feel so good.) I gotta get you high more often!” He laughed. Wait, what? That was English! He saw the indignation in your face, and quickly counteracted it. “What? I can speak English, if I want. You can’t. Tú tienes que aprender español. Yo no debo. (You have to learn Spanish. I do not.) Now…” He fished that bottle out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and pressed one of his nostrils shut. “Close one nostril like this, put the bottle up to the open one, and sniff as hard as you can. You may feel some of the liquid shoot up, but that’s okay. It’s gonna feel great, I promise. Let me show you.” He snorted the popper himself and groaned before handing it to you, “Okay… okay… now you. Give it back when you’re done.”

Your hands fumbled the bottle momentarily, but you got it into position. One nostril shut, the other open, and sniff. Easy enough. You followed the steps: press, place, huff. A burst of liquid flooded your sinuses. You winced and handed the bottle back to Lalo, who screwed it shut and put it back in his pocket. He groaned and started to pound into you.

You’d never imagined that huffing “nail polish remover” would be so pleasurable, so psychedelic. It felt like your head was a balloon, gradually inflating but never popping. You heard your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel the couch breathing underneath you. Your cunt was on fire, and Lalo was pumping gasoline inside it, making you burn that much hotter. 

Most of the sounds you made were incoherent gibberish, but there was one word in particular that you both heard loud and clear, its syllables syncing to its namesake’s hips. “La-lo! La-lo! La-lo!” Some more words crossed your mind and infiltrated the atmosphere. You tried like hell to make sure none of them were English. “Lalo! Lalo! ¡Más! ¡Da… ¡Dame más! F-Fo-oh! ¡F-Fóllame, Lalito! ¡Fóllame! (More! Give… Gimme more! F-Fuck me, Lalito! Fuck me!)” So far, so good. 

Lalo groaned as he fucked you into the couch. “Ah, así es mi putito lindo. ¿Te gusta? No te preocupes, no debes decirme. Yo sé que te gusta. Justo relájate y disfrútalo. (Ah, there’s my cute little slut. You like that? Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me. I know you like it. Just relax and enjoy it.)” He pinched your dick and stroked it in time with his thrusts. “Sabes, me alegra que seas un travelo. Me encanta que naciste con un chocho. Sientes mucho mejor que otros hombres. Es como que tú has hecho para estar follado. (You know, I’m so happy that you’re a tranny. I love that you were born with a cunt. You feel so much better than other men. It’s like you were made to get fucked.)”

You had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but it definitely sounded nice. Then again, anything would sound nice in that rich, sexy tone of his. For all you knew, he could be reciting his grocery list. This bitch could make the produce aisle sound like a hedonistic paradise. Whatever. Logistics didn’t matter. What did matter was how close your orgasm was. You’d say you were losing control, but that implied you had some control of the situation to begin with.

All you could do was moan and drag your nails down his back. Rather than worry about what words you didn’t know, you focused on the ones you did, of which there were very few. “Lalo! Lalo! Lalo! Oh! Oh my… Ah! I mean…! ¡D-Dios mío! ¡Dios mío!” Nice recovery. That got a hearty laugh from him. 

Okay, good. You could do this. You could figure this out. What was “to come” again? Right, venir, okay. Now what? You couldn’t just say venir. You gotta preface that with something. You were drawing a blank, and it made you panic. You were running out of time, and you knew better than to finish without permission. Weed was not helping anymore, and the poppers were long gone from your system, not that they would’ve contributed much either. Fuck it. You tried. “¡Venir! ¡Venir! (Come! Come!)”

Lalo thought that was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. It was adorable watching you so dumb and cockdrunk that you could barely speak. He didn’t let up, but he lent you a helping hand, or  rather, he flicked on the lightbulb in your brain. “¿Te vas a venir? ¿Estás cerca? (You’re gonna cum? Are you close?)”

And it all became so clear. “¡Sí! ¡Sí, eso! ¡Voy a venir, Lalito! ¡Lalito! ¿Lo… ¿Lo puedo? (Yes! Yes, that! I’m gonna cum, Lalito! Lalito! Can… Can I?)”

Lalo smiled, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and jerked you even harder than you thought possible. “Hazlo. Hazlo y dime gracias después. (Do it. Do it and say thank you after.)”

Whatever the hell después meant was not a concern right now. You understood the rest of the sentence. “¡Gracias! ¡Gracia-ah! ¡Gracias, Lalito! Lalitooo~!” You pulled him against you and into a kiss. You moaned into his mouth as you came, flooding the space between you two and staining the couch at least a little bit.

Lalo broke the kiss and took his hand off your dick so he could stroke your hair. He wasn’t far behind. “Bien… Bien hecho. Buen chico. Oh, hiciste tan bueno. Estoy muy orgulloso de tí…” He grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you back into him and digging as deep as he could go. He growled hungrily. “Voy a venir también. ¿A dónde lo quieres? (I’m gonna cum too. Where do you want it?)”

Your orgasm had delivered yet another high that fried your brain and left you dumb. Translating was a fucking ordeal, even moreso than before. You were staring up at him with your eyes red and glazed over, and your tongue hanging out of your mouth and drooling. Where… it… you want? Where do you want it? In… Inside, right? Shit, how do you say inside again? At least this time you could think of some other words instead. “En… ¡En mi chocho! ¡En mi chocho! (In… In my cunt! In my cunt!)”

“¿Lo quieres dentro? (You want it inside?)”

“¡Sí! ¡Dentro! ¡Hazlo dentro! (Yes! Inside! Do it inside!)”

Lalo laughed, warm and sweet, and smooched you on the lips. “Don’t gotta tell me twice!” Before you could gripe about him teasing you with English again, he slammed his hips into you hard, grunting and hissing as he filled you up. And you felt full. You could feel it seeping out of you before he even pulled out. If you had more than four brain cells left, you’d worry about how you were going to clean the cushions later. But you didn’t, so you didn’t.

You both panted like you’d just run a marathon, and you were sweating like sinners in church. Although you were alike in condition, your post-nut reactions were much different. You were staring up at the ceiling, brainless and boneless, blending into the bodily fluids left onto the couch. Lalo grabbed the bong and lit the bowl again, tapping you on the cheek when he blew the smoke out. “You want some? We probably got one good hit left in there. You can speak English again, by the way.”

Of course, he was giving you permission, not stating a fact. You were too fucked up (quite literally) to speak at all right now, but not too fucked to forget the dance. Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Alright, nice! And good job!” Lalo took the bong from you and placed it back on the table. “You’re getting better with Spanish. I think we gotta practice more often though, right?”

You nodded. It was all you could do. 

Lalo grinned. He was so, so proud. “Yeah, alright. We’ll do this again sometime. But, I got one more thing left to teach you.” He pressed his forehead to yours, and stared right into your eyes. 

“Te amo. (I love you.)”

There was no need to translate. You knew it; you said it back; and you meant it.

#bcs #better call saul #bcs x reader #better call saul x reader #better call saul smut #better call saul imagine #bcs smut #bcs imagine #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca smut #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca x reader #intox tw #intox kink #lalo salamanca x ftm reader #ftm intox #intox ftm #ftm reader

[richeeduvie]

I need more of Papa Lalo! I picture his youngest daughter being really into drawing, especially fairies and unicorns. She always gives them to Lalo as gifts, and he hangs them up in the garage. He proudly shows the drawings to Nacho, asking if they aren't works of art and Nacho just stares at him in silence 🥴

"My little Mozart."

Lalo stares at the drawing. Blobby flowers. But it's a damn work of art.

"Mozart was a musician."

Lalo's head snaps.

"That's still a damn artist, Nachito. No need to be exact - but ah, look! Look at her masterpiece! I never did this when I was her age. I was good with a knife, makes sense she would good with a crayon."

Lalo nails it to the garage wall. Nacho stands in silence while the hammer pounds.

"Papa!"

"More drawings for me?"

She lifts her arms up, drawings in both hands.

"More drawings for Papa!"

Lalo takes the drawings from his little girl and stares at them in awe, his mouth parted. He scoffs in disbelief.

"Uncle Nacho, hang my artwork up for me. You know how to draw a unicorn, girl. My little Mozart!"

Lalo picks a giggly, smiley girl up into his arms with Nacho staring into the drawings. He stares at them for a bit - all the way until the voices of Lalo and his daughter disappears.

The hammer pounds while Lalo smooches her cheek.

#inbox #hc's #drabble #madman!au #lalo salamanca imagine #better call saul fanfic

[ficsnroses]

—𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆. 𝑳𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓—

prompt: on a warm summer evening, lalo invites you to spend the night with him in his home for the very first time. you learn of his distaste for sleep, however, you might be able to make it a little easier. 

warnings: all fluff! slight sm(u)t mention. spoiler free! 2.3k words.

notes: hihi! this is my first time writing for lalo literally if even 1 (one) person reads this I will be happy lmao. please lemme know what you think!  

an: there isn’t a lot of bcs fanfic out there, and it seems lalo x reader fics are even more scarce. if you give this a read and enjoy, please consider reblogging, sharing or interacting! I’m pretty new to the bcs fandom, it would be nice to make a couple frens:)

(also, this entire fic takes place in that one scene from s5 ep 10 where lalo is sitting outside by the fire. we’re just gonna pretend nacho isn’t there and the events that follow never happened, okay? okay.)

It begins with warm brown eyes.

Warm brown eyes, a crisp white dress shirt, and a smile you swore would someday make you ruin.

They say whoever the Devil smiles at becomes his favourite.

The first time you’d been introduced, he had looked at you with a far too wide, far too gleaming smile. That salt and pepper gray streak, titan shoulders and rippling biceps under delicate, exclusive cotton.  

Lalo Salamanca looked rather more of a sinful, dark promise than a man.

And then he’d raised your hand in front of everyone, and kissed it.

Lalo Salamanca could not seem to stop smiling at you.

You’d gazed at him for a long moment, your greatest attempts to gauge his sincere expression. There was just something about him. Soft, smooth rasp in his voice, yet a glimmer of unnerving interest in his eyes. Something warm, something that almost seemed…wicked.

But it wasn’t.

The most compelling of the Salamancas was just that. Petrifyingly efficient in his field. Lethal to others, but never to you. A seamless collection of careful contradictions you couldn’t seem to unravel. One simple smile from him and you’d swore.

The angels themselves would sin for him.

The unholy force, the mountain of a man that is Lalo Salamanca seemed to melt away when he was with you. Left behind would be a softer, warmer entity. Eduardo Salamanca. A man for whom it hadn’t taken long to fall in love with the sweet sound that is your voice.

They say the Devil looks after his own, cradles them with his hands packed of sin.

You’d drowned willingly.

Open Chihuahua city sky bleeds tonight. Dim, a sea of stars decorated in its hair.

The scent of Night-Blooming Jasmine electrifies through you, a gentle breeze kissing supple skin. Huele de Noche, is what he’d said they call it.

Mexico is beautiful this time of year— Lalo keeps home near his heart, revered deep within its seams.  

He’d begun to keep you there, too.

The embers of an open bonfire glow before you in the distance, and you see him lounged on a long chair near it. Crisp, cold Modelo cracked open, and a carve of tension lines constrained to his forehead. Quiet, subdued.

He carries that fire in his veins.

Its not long before you make yourself known.

Lalo had invited you over tonight to spend the evening with him. A shared bottle of red and home cooked meal. Candlelight had danced over his features, and you’d admired the delicate dips and slopes of his face; the laugh lines that pepper roots to the corners of his eyes.

Sooner than he’d anticipated. Frighteningly fast, even. It hadn’t taken long for you to become his favourite remedy, his preferred tonic.

You’d spent the latter half of the night within the haven that is his bed. Clung together in the evening dark, no longer sure where he ends and you begin. He’d made you his, in more ways than just one.

There had been such a light in his eyes as he learns your body and explores. Traces, kisses, and claims. You’d begun to learn a familiar truth—one that brings you simmering comfort.

You will never be scared of Lalo. Bloodcurdling to others, but never to you.

He carries that fire in his veins.

But it was you, who could turn it to soft, running water, even if just for a little bit.

You’d fallen asleep to the feel of his arm loosely hung over your waist, and the subtle heat of his breath on your skin.

You don’t know when he’d departed, lonesome in the company of none but a crackling fire, and the quiet melody of nighttime crickets bustling.

It doesn’t take long for him to notice you.

A mere look his way, and something inside you seems to crumble. Soften, hitch, crumble.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Your lips curve a gentle smile to his greeting to you, and its not long before you begin an amble his way. Lalo’s stare never wavers as he watches you attentively, the light of the fire glistening in those familiar cocoa depths. Your voice is calm, soft in the midnight dark. “You’re not coming to bed?” you voiced softly, footsteps approaching his resting place.

His hair is messier. You wonder if he’d ran his fingers through it as he sat here.

It was nice to have you in his space. To do what lovers do, to keep you among the other elements that are a gateway to his heart. Things such as this often hadn’t come easily to Lalo; part of him had still been unsure.

Unsure, but always eager to learn.

You could hear a hint of tire in his buttery voice when he answered. “Nah, I don’t get much sleep.” He mutters, gesturing you a seat to the spare chair beside his. “Did I wake you?” Lalo questions in caution, and he regards you critically as you take seat alongside him.

“No,” was your quick interruption, strained smile to accompany. “I woke up and…noticed you were gone.”

He hums slightly in response, a buzz brewing easily through the deepest pits of his throat. For a long, tense moment, he was silent, before throwing his head back slightly, a gaze to the night sky above. “Yeah, I never sleep much.” was his deep voice, slicing through you as if a wave of comfort. “An hour, maybe two.” He muses simply with a shrug, voice lax as he looks at you again. “It’s enough.”

They glow faintly, his eyes. As if two lone, remote stars shining in the sky. The intensity, the regard coupled in those brown eyes of his causes something to bloom in your chest. Something familiar, something…

Warm. Something that kisses the very marrow of you.

Your lips part, and your smile falters slightly to his simple confession. A small frown tugs your lips down. “I don’t like that, at all.”

There was a flicker of something in his expression, his lean figure resting coolly in his seat. Mexico nightlife hums around you, and a tingle races down your spine noticing the way his eyes gloss over your gentle features. Heat pulses beneath your skin, and your honeyed whisper almost seems to catch him by surprise. “I wish you’d take more care of yourself.”

Or, let me.

Lalo is silent for moment. A long, drawn moment. So much so, that your gaze drifts back on him. And, you find him already gazing at you. There is something exceedingly human about him in this moment, something fragile, kind, indulgent.

Its not long before you feel his larger, callous hand shift. It envelopes your smaller, softer one. Tenderly, he laces his fingers with yours.

Lalo’s hands were far from clean. They’d held guns and knives but now they also held you. You feel the sound of his voice wash over you like the rays of the sun, and suddenly, you long to give him your entire heart. everything within it.

Lalo leans back slightly in his chair, continuing softly when you too, curl your fingers around his. “When its like this, that’s when I can think.” was his faint murmur, eyes closing slightly as he breathes in deep, a lightness exhilarating his lungs. He exhales it from somewhere deep inside his chest and your heart seizes for a second.

There is a newfound ease in his tone, previous tension of his profile melting away. As of late, your mere presence is enough to calm the simmering strain, the heaviness burning away in him. It is new, this feeling you give him. New, comforting, soothing, dangerous. You are dangerous.

You, with your easy smiles, thoughtful yet understanding eyes.

You are slowly becoming his weakness. His heart, or, whatever little he ever did have of it, has begun to remember you far too often. Lalo’s fingers tighten slightly as they hold yours, and his voice illuminates. “I get my best ideas when everybody else is asleep.” The warmth of his skin pulses through your hand, and your head tilts after a moment of silence. “Some people, they call it a curse. I like it.”

Physical closeness is one thing.

But this?

This— listening to him, having him listen to you. It was in the way that his thumb gently coaxed the soft skin of your hand. The way his eyes meet yours every now and then and he really looks at you. As if he is looking into you, perhaps into a little part of you that only his eyes could see.

Physical closeness is one thing. But the intimacy that you’ve begun to explore, this trust you’ve begun to build with Lalo is all the more enriching.

Its an easy silence, the one that follows. The kind that soothes you to the bone, etches into the very marrow of you under the weight of his gentle gaze.

Repose looks good on him. Restful, easygoing repose.

He looks unfairly handsome tonight.

And perhaps, there is an ache in your heart when you remember such peace does not come so easily to this man you’ve begun to adore. The mere sound of his rich voice has begun to ignite a plea inside you, despite your greatest attempts to smother it.

Perhaps you’re failing to realize just how dangerous your captivation with him truly was. Or, that this captivation had morphed into affection far sooner than you’d hoped.

And his had, too.

Lalo Salamanca is dangerous. You know little of his affiliation with the cartel, his business and professional proceedings. Yet you do know.

Know of the sinister that lurks in the mere presence of his name.

But you know of the other side, too.

The side you only ever saw around family. The patient, low tone he’d always use with his tio Hector. His regard for his staff, how fiercely loyal he is to the Salamanca name. How eagerly he was prepared to protect those closest to him.

How when he touches you, he does so like he is marvelling at each touch, as if he is lucky to do so.

He is a harmony of cold and warm. Of light and dark. And you wish to thaw into him, willingly.

Its not long before you acknowledge his genuine confession. “Hm.” was your quiet, deliberate hum. Prompt and simple.

Your eyes lift to his.

And it doesn’t take long for you to rise promptly, a gentle screech below when you seam your chair closer to his. Close enough, that they’re joined. And you’ve never treasured a lack of arm rests more.

Relaxing back down on your chair, you move in closer. So close to him, that its not long before your arms are wrapping around the expanse of his bold torso, and you feel the muscles of his skin ripple below shirt fabric.

It almost catches him by surprise.

You curl effortlessly into him. And realize, your body moulds into him with ease.

And when your cheek presses against his chest, resting over the broad skin, you allow your eyes to slip shut for just a moment, as you breathe in his timbered scent.

He doesn’t respond right away. Only his slow, steady breathes do. And perhaps you’d felt it, too.

The way his heartbeat spiked when you melt into him.

He’d been reluctant at first, features hardened and you could sense the strain in his body.

But then, he did it, too.

Slowly, carefully, cautiously.

Its earnest, when a pair of strong arms curl lazily around you like irons. And suddenly, he is painfully aware of the way you ease into him. The way your hair rests upon his chest, the way your body clings to him so nonchalantly.

In his arms right now, you are free. It is not a sense of possession, but belonging.

He allows himself the foolish gratification of your embrace, the simple warmth of your skin. An indulgence.

Like a string being cut.

And it feels far nicer than he would care to admit.

“I like sleep.” was your mild tone, barely above a whisper when you admit easily. You savour the moment, soaking in this softer, warmer side of the man who has begun to claw his way into your heart. “Makes me feel…at peace. At ease. Safe.”

Something he had begun to make you feel, too.

You feel Lalo relax into your touch, and the deep lumber of his voice electrifies through you when you feel it roll up his chest. “Can’t argue with that.” Was his simple return, and the way his thumb begins to coax the soft skin of your arm as he holds you causes your heartbeat to spear.

Maybe someday it could be true.

Right now, it is new. This feeling is new, your connection is new. Yet perhaps someday, you’ll feel it in his touch.

An unwillingness to be parted from you.

You think you do feel it now, too. When his arms tighten ever so slightly, and he sighs.

There is a moment of suspended silence, and you simply hold each other. It almost catches you by surprise, when he presses a soft, slow kiss into your hair, keeping his nose buried in it for a moment as he lingers.

“Tu seras mi muerte.”

He murmurs the words carefully in the centimetres separating you, his hold on you never faltering.

You didn’t understand what they meant. But he, did.

It might as well be a prayer.

He might as well be damning you.

And with them, the crackle of the fire becomes nothing more than a pulse, and your thoughts become nothing more than a beat along with it.

You savour each other under an open Mexico sky a little longer. From hunger to honey that drips, the man in your arms is a seamless collection of careful contradictions you couldn’t seem to unravel. And it would take time, the unravelling of him.

Yet for now, this feeling is enough.

Lalo’s eyes slip shut.

     Your heart skipped a beat that night.

     Or perhaps, two.

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