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depressopax · 1 month

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LCDP x BCS AU

Masterlist for my Nacho spinoff fanfic

Title: From ABQ with love, Nacho

Synopsis:

"I was walking towards my own death when I met him. Life wasn’t easy. Never been, and I’ve given up the hopes of a calm, easy life. I’ve taken farewell to my dad. I’ve somehow accepted the sorrow that I’ll never see him again. That day I killed Ignacio “Nacho” Varga. He died, the second I left Albuquerque. Like I said - this was the end of me. The end of the man who I once was. My story was over, but he had other plans for me." ____________________________

In this Better call Saul AU, Nacho successfully escapes Gus and the Cartel, only to end up in a new crime scene. This time - Together with the mysterious man "The Professor" and his crew of eight ex-criminals. Their plan? To pull a heist against the Royal Mint of Spain - and print 2.4 billion euros. Nacho has nothing to lose but if succeeded - everything to win. To reunite with his father, Nacho agrees to join the Professor. He becomes "Albuquerque" and now gets ready for one final battle. Will he succeed?

About:

Heyy! This fanfiction combines two of my all time favorite shows: La casa de papel and Better call Saul. When making some silly crossover art I thought: "Hmmm... Why not turn this into a story?"

And well... I did!

It is in a Nacho spin-off, but also an LCDP/BCS AU. I know BCS is in the 2000's whilst LCDP is in 2010's. But for the sake of the story... Both stories take place in the same year, in an alternate universe.

This entire work will be published mainly on AO3, but if anyone is interested in reading it on Tumblr, I'll post it here too!

I'll mark every chapter with eventual TW's but what I can say now is that this ficttion has spoilers for both shows.

Feel free to share this post and comment your thoughts, and also check out my AO3! <3

Chapter 0 AO3 || Tumblr

Chapter 1 AO3 || Tumblr

Chapter 2

WIP

Introduction

Full masterlist

AO3 Profile

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espressoarts · 1 month

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The "I hate my job and my boss is an a-hole" power-stance

They're my everything, my babygirls, my comfort characters, my "deserved so much better" babes <3

[Nairobi from La casa de papel and Nacho from Better call Saul]

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depressopax · 1 month

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Outfit swap

Nairobi (La casa de papel) and Nacho Varga (Better call Saul)

Had to make nore art of my fav characters!

Once again ✨️faceless✨️

(I still can figure out how to draw Nacho UGH)

Now I need an AU where they are friends, I just know they'd get along <3

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depressopax · 15 days

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Currently writing on my From ABQ with Love fanfic and I LOVE writing Denver 😭

He's such a himbo meanwhile Nacho is like: 😐Get me away from here😐

Anyways - chapter 3 out soon!! <3

#nacho varga #daniel ramos #denver lcdp #fanfic authors #writeblr #fanfiction #fanfic promo #story promo #aspiring author #la casa de papel #better call saul #breaking bad #better call saul fanfic #bcs #lcdp #better call saul au #fanfic writing #lcdp x bcs au #crossover

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depressopax · 26 days

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From ABQ with love, Nacho

A Nacho spinoff & LCDP x BCS Crossover AU

Chapter 2

« Masterlist || Previous chapter || AO3 link »

Words: 1.6k Warnings: None? English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

“I have a plan” Four-eyes - that’s what I’ll call him now - says.

I cross my arms and stare at him.

“Shoot.”

“What makes a person a villain?”

“What…?”

“Where do we draw the line? When does one become a villain?”

“I dunno… Maybe when robbing a bank?” Maybe I shouldn’t be such a jerk.

Too bad I don’t care.

“Not a bank. The Royal Mint, Ignacio.” He corrects me as if it matters.

As the lunatic Four-eyes seems to be, he starts pacing the room. “And we’re not really “robbing”... You know about Robin Hood, right?”

I nod.

“Of course.” Does he think I’m that fucking stupid?

“That’s our plan. We’re not stealing. We’re printing our own money.”

“...That’s your big plan? To counterfeit some money? Amazing.”

I don’t know why I’m being so rude, but what am I supposed to do?

Blindly believe this lunatic to a man successfully will take over one of the most secure places in Madrid? And print money?

“Ridiculous.” I stand up again.

“Do you have somewhere better to be?” Finally, he sounds annoyed. I shrug. “Do you want me to reassure you that your father is alive?”

“How dare you talk about him?!”

Four-eyes looks calm again. How can he be so calm?

“Ignacio… Like it or not, but we’re allies now. I saved you, and now, I need your help”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then you’re on your own. I can’t save someone that doesn’t want to be saved.”

On my own. I’d be stuck here, in a country I’ve never been to before. Stay, and wait until someone finds me. And knowing Gus right, knowing the cartel… They’ll make sure it’s a slow, painful death.

“...I need to think.” I am just about to walk out, and once again - he talks.

Damnit! Can he shut the fuck up already?

“How about 2.4 billion euros?”

I freeze. 2.4 billion. I can’t even wrap my head around how much money that is. With that money, I could go anywhere. I could start over, somewhere far from New Mexico. I could get a new identity. Never have to work another day. Never have to do anything criminal.

And… I barely dare to hope, but… Dad. I can reunite with dad. I can bring him to a safe place. With the money, he’d never have to work again. He could retire early, and be the most rich damn old man ever.

“I’m listening.”

Four-eyes smiles and behind the thick glasses, I can see an entertained shine in his eyes. Finally - it says.

“Thank you.”

He once again starts explaining, only this time - I listen.

After three days my new crew arrives - one by one. The morning when the youngest robber - Rio - arrives at the Toledo House, Four-eyes tells me:

“You need a name.”

“Like an… Alias?”

“Exactly.”

“Nacho.” I say. Professor shakes his head.

“No. A brand new one. A city name”

City?

“Why?”

“No names, and no personal relationships. So what will it be?”

Oh, I know one.

The man named Rio can’t be more than 19. He seems disoriented. Poor guy.

It reminds me of myself - when I first joined the cartel. I must’ve looked just like that - young, confused and out of place. I could feel sympathy, of course. But I just stare at the curly haired guy with skepticism. So does Berlin. His dark, dead eyes stare at Rio. Professor walks next to him.

“Rio, meet your crew.” He nods at me and the fancy son of a bitch.

“Berlin” he says with a nod and then it’s my turn.

“Albuquerque.”

When choosing my city name, it felt obvious to be “Albuquerque.”

The past is already haunting me. Always will. So I’ll embrace it.

Reclaim it.

Our city named crew grows.

Oslo and Helsinki. Two bearded men that must be almost 6.2 feet tall. Oslo is quiet and reserved - Helsinki is extroverted and impulsive.

One day, Professor drives me and Rio to an abandoned hangar. His hideout, and where he’ll stay hidden whilst me and the others are locked in the Royal Mint.

It’s shabby and poorly isolated with rain puddles on the floor by the entrance. Other than that, there’s a table, boxes on the floor and a bunk bed. Four-eyes has a setup with two computer screens, a keyboard, headphones, speakers, a lamp and a red, retro phone.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

“I need help setting things up for later.”

“But it’s five months left?” Rio questions

“Better to be on the safe side, am I right?”

Me and Rio glance at each other but don't question the Professor's words. He calls for Rio, who helps him set everything up and test the equipment. It takes at least 2 hours for him to explain everything to Four-eyes. It reminds me of all the times I’ve helped dad with his phone and computer. I wander the abandoned place restlessly. It’s not much to look at, and I don’t feel like interrupting the Four-eyes and the Computer-kid. I have nicknames for them all. As I walk through the shabby room, my eyes fixate on the corner of the room. At one point I accidentally drop a glass to the floor. The Professor flinches and looks at me. Rio grins.

I used to despise clumsy people, and those who couldn’t focus when having an important task at hand. How the tables turned. But then again, I’m Albuquerque now.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Professor mutters and turns to the computer again. “We’ll be done soon.”

Yep. Now I really feel like a dumb kid.

When we’re finally about to head back to Toledo, Four-eyes pulls me aside.

“I am a man that keeps my promises. I want you to know that.”

The fuck are you talking about? I want to ask. But my words get stuck. He shows me a security camera, probably one that Rio has hacked for him. The camera shows an airport, and a line of people checking in to get on a plane.

Dad. He’s right there, handing his passport and ticket over to a lady his age. She checks it and hands everything back smiling. But dad isn’t smiling. He looks tense. Tired.

Of course. He thinks I’m dead.

I sink into the chair that Rio just left.

“This was two days ago. The airport in Santa Fe.”

He scrolls through other cameras. The trip must’ve been hell. My father prefers to be at home and only travel to different towns, never further than two hours away. He was adventurous when he was younger - just like me. But the older and more anxious he got - the less he left the house unless it was for work.

…And now he has to move to the other side of the world, because of you.

The guilt washes over me again. The anxiety I can’t seem to shake off - ever.

He changes planes two times. The last camera Professor shows me is him arriving at the airport somewhere in Canada. Where I don’t know - I don’t care really.

All that matters is that he’s not in Albuquerque anymore. The cartel, nor Gus, can hurt him anymore.

“When was this?”

“Two days ago. He’s safe, Ignacio.”

I breathe out. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and only now can exhale.

“Thank you.” Is all I can say. The cameras show the same scene over and over - dad getting off the plane. I continue watching it, until I finally believe my eyes. I could cry from relief. Not here. I blink the tears away and stand up.

“Well then. Let’s go back to Toledo.”

I shut my emotions off and walk out of the hangar.

Dad is alive. And for now, that’s all that matters to me.

“So… A jewelry thief, a hacker, an cartel man and us, two war veterans… Who else?”

Helsinki asks during an awkward dinner. Berlin laughs and I can’t keep myself from smiling. It indeed is a weird gang. But then again, nothing normal about planning a heist.

It’s raining outside. The house is cold, so Professor has lit up the wood stove so we won't freeze to death. I hate the cold. It must look ridiculous to wear a jacket indoors, but I don’t care. Even the food is cold, but still tasty. Or maybe that’s because I’m hungry. And I need the food. When I was on the run back home, food wasn’t my top priority. I’ve lost weight, and muscles. Now, when I have a heist to participate in I need to regain it.

“Well… We have an ex-drug dealer, a thief, a robber and a money-counterfeiter. They’ll all join us later this week.”

“And when we’re all gathered, what then?” I ask.

“That’s when the practical part of the heist begins. I’ll tell you all about the plan and how we’ll successfully make history.”

Make history.

The Professor might be a damn lunatic, but still… You gotta be a bit fucked up to succeed. And he indeed is. He has confidence and, whether I want to admit it or not - a good plan.

My dad’s alive and safe, and if I pull this heist off, then I can reunite with him.

Hope is a dangerous thing but for the first time in years, that’s what I feel.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a like, a reblog or comment if you liked it! It does encourage me to continue writing on this story! <3 Have a good day!!

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depressopax · 1 month

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From ABQ with love, Nacho

Chapter 1

This is the first chapter of my LCDP x BCS AU/Nacho spin-off. More info can be found here! || AO3 link

Chapter summary: After being saved by "The fancy son of a bitch", his travel from Albuquerque, to an unknown destination begins. But who is the man really? Why did he save Nacho? And where are they headed? Words: 1.8k TW: Drugs/drugging, cuss words, blood [Might be a bit OOC, bare with me] English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

I don’t know where he’s taking me, the man who introduced himself as “Berlin” - But I choose to remain to calling him “The fancy son of a bitch”

But I don’t dare to ask him. Whether I like it or not - He saved my ass.

So when he threatens to kill me if I try escaping, when he drugs me into obedience, when he drives me through the country, and when we sit down at the airport and then on the plane - I don’t make a sound.

Plane I haven’t been on a plane since I was a kid.

Me and dad only went on trips a couple of times.

We didn’t grow up poor - and my childhood was happy.

My dad was a single parent and had his own company, so it was up to him to make sure his son was well fed.

He did a good job, my dad. But I had the tendency to get myself into trouble.

It was a combination of the adrenaline junkie within me, the people I made friends with, and the economical situation me and dad had.

It started with Domingo and Tuco - and escalated into the Salamancas and the cartel.

Dad is an honorable man. In the fog of my mind, I see his face. I remember us on that airplane once, when I went on my first vacation. I was so excited, and he smiled at me.

It hurts. It fucking hurts.

He probably thinks I’m dead. In some ways, I am indeed dead.

Did Mike keep his promise? Is my dad safe?

I’m not religious but still I pray to all Gods possible that he gets out safely.

I hate myself for putting him in danger. I hate myself for my choices.

And I hate the fancy son of a bitch next to me.

We fly first class.

He’s a rich fuck, too. He looks unfazed, where he sits reading a book and drinking what I can only guess is alcohol.

Drinking in the light of the day, on a plane? Seriously?

The rich son of a bitch who calls himself “Berlin” looks at me. I must have been staring. If looks could kill, he’d drop dead now.

“I would offer you a scotch, but you’re high.” he chuckles and I grunt in reply. I turn my head to not see his smug face. My situation is confusing and humiliating enough. He continues talking to me, but I’m not listening.

Somehow, he reminds me of Lalo.

The way he talks, his confidence and that sick, twisted personality. They’d make good friends. I manage to laugh and surprise both him and myself.

“Where… We headed…” I manage to spit out. Literally tho. I don’t know what kind of drugs I’m on, but it's difficult to open and close my mouth. I’m probably drooling. And he probably finds joy in seeing people like that.

“Spain. But to which town I can’t let you know.”

Spain…

“Why?”

“Because I’m ordered to bring you there. A friend of mine has an offer for you. And you’re a damn stupid brat if you don’t agree. Besides, this little trip cost me a fortune. Imagine all the fancy wines I could’ve brought, instead of picking up some depressed, bald cartel man.”

Suddenly I’m happy to be drugged. The fancy son of a bitch should be too. I’d slap his smug face bloody if I could.

I don’t give a fuck that he “saved” me. I don’t care if we’re on a plane. I’d ruin him.

“Fuck you.” I whisper.

He glances at me, up and down. I must look ridiculous with sweaty, dirty clothes, wounds and bruises on my face. That, with the dark circles marking my dark eyes, combined with how affected I must look from the drugs, with half open mouth and eyes. He definitely notices, because his next words are:

“I have no idea what the Professor saw in you.”

The Professor? I choke back a laugh. Berlin. The professor. What the fuck is this?

“You should’ve let me die.”

Silence.

“Yes. Yes I should have, huh?” He puts the book down and stares blankly at me. “I’ll get some sleep. Ima have to drug you again, so you don’t try suffocating me with a pillow.”

“Yea. Because I’d definitely try to escape when we’re on a damn plane.” My voice is coated with sarcasm and the fancy son of a bitch laughs. When he hands me a pill, I don’t have the energy, nor willpower to disagree. I swallow it down with water and soon my brain is fogged up again and I enter a world of dreams.

I remember my dad’s worry. I had just joined the cartel and for the first time in my life, I was beaten bloody. My face was swollen and I was limping when I sunk down outside his door.

“Hijo?” a tired voice said. His face twisted to concern, to anger and then fright. Having to explain what had happened to him was not easy. His worry was not the worst. It was the disappointment in his eyes.

“Sorry.” I mumbled. “I got this under control, ok?”

What a lie.

The next day is the same: Airplanes and cars - in the company of what I’m now sure is a sociopath. He talks to me as if we were friends. He mocks me like he hates me, and he asks me questions like he was a cop and I was a suspect. I can’t figure him out. At all.

When we finally arrive at an old house in the dead of night, I’m finally free from those damn pills, and I get to eat some real food. I even get my own room. That night, I slept like I’ve never slept before.

The wardrobe in “my room” has some simple t-shirts and jeans, a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and even some work-out clothes.

I should feel relieved but I’m anxious. It feels like danger creeps over me. Is this some sort of sick joke? Is “Berlin” part of the cartel too? I don’t know. At least the door to the room is open. The house is dark and dusty. If someone actually lives here, they must be a disruptive person. I walk the house mindlessly. I find a kitchen, dining room, bathrooms and like 8 more bedrooms. There’s even an attic.

Curiosity takes over and I climb the stairs up.

I walk into… A classroom…?

Yes. A classroom.

A blackboard, a desk with pens and papers… A line of small tables and chairs, exactly like the ones I used to sit by when I was young and in school.

One word is written with white chalk on the board: ¡Bienvenido! It says.

“Hello.” I flinch and by instinct reach for the gun I don't carry anymore.

Not because this man looks like a threat either ways.

The thin, bearded man seems to be my age, with dark, thick glasses, wavy hair and a dark suit. Everything he’s wearing is dark. As dark as the house. He doesn’t look like a snob. The suit looks as old and vintage as the interior of the house. Must be he who owns the residence. He almost looks like a…

“Professor.” I mumble. The man smiles and looks nervous.

“That’s right. You may call me ‘The Professor’”

No thank you. Is what I don’t say. I just stare at him, as if he just told me a joke that wasn’t funny.

“Ignacio…” he sighs and pulls out a chair. He takes a seat and looks at me. I should hate him. But I can't. Not yet, either ways. “...I’m sorry about your trip here. Berlin can be… Intense.”

“He’s a sociopath.” I correct him with a hiss.

“...Whatever you want to call him. Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Varga?”

Mr. Varga. I’m starting to think this man is older than he seems.

“No.”

“It’s because I have a plan. And I need you for it to work.”

“What? You needed to bring me all the way from Albuquerque and to… Wherever the hell we are, for it?”

“In Toledo. And yes. I needed to.”

“How’d you find me? And why?” I start to feel annoyed, but mostly because I’m so calm. I’ve totally lost my mind. I shouldn’t even hear this man out. Still, I want to. I need to understand my own situation.

“You were in a dark place, Ignacio. But in the darkness there's light. There’s this man that told me about you. He told me about your situation, about your skills and past. You’re a great asset to my team.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does!”

The Professor starts looking annoyed now too.

“Can I please talk?” The way he’s talking makes me feel like a kid. It’s like getting lectured and I hate it. So I sigh and seal my lips.

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” he adjusts the thick glasses. “Like I was saying; You’re a great asset to my team. You have been in the cartel, you know how to handle weapons and I’m guessing you’re good when it comes to money?”

“What the fuck is this?” I stand up. I’m starting to lose my patience with this shit, hell, I lost it the second I got here.

I walk up to him, threatingly. It seems to work. Of course.

“Manuel Varga. He’s alive and well.”

I want to kill him for talking about my father. But I also want to cry and thank him for saving my father.

“How do you…”

“I promise to hand you proof of his safety, if you promise to hear me out.”

The Professor sounds stern. Yea. His nickname definitely makes sense now. I sit down again. Finally, the bearded man starts talking.

“This week, you’ll meet your new crew of eight other criminals. You - and Berlin, are the first to arrive. These people shall be your new “family”. You’ll eat together, live together and get to know each other - build up trust and grow strong - together.”

He goes quiet.

“Okay…?” I say, my eyebrows furrowing.

“And then… In five months from now… We’ll rob the Royal Mint of Spain.”

I’m startled. Shocked. Then I laugh. This is a sick joke. Of course. My laughter dies out. The man stares blankly at me. Oh God. He’s being serious.

“...That’s impossible.”

“Difficult, yes. But not impossible, Ignacio.”

We stare each other down. After a while, I shake my head.

“How?”

He smiles at me. A cocky smile, this time. For the first time, I actually see more in him - besides a four-eyed lunatic. Maybe, just maybe…

“I have a plan.”

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depressopax · 1 month

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From ABQ with love, Nacho

This is the first chapter/prologue of my LCDP x BCS AU/Nacho spin-off. More info can be found here! || AO3 link TW: Spoiler for Better call Saul, violence, cuss words and mentions of death. Words: 0.6K [Might be a bit OOC, bare with me] English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

Chapter 0

I was walking towards my own death when I met him.

Life wasn’t easy. Never been, and I’ve given up the hopes of a calm, easy life.

I’m already a dead man. A walking dead man. Dressed in black, as for my own funeral. There’s a gun in my back pocket. A loaded gun.

Bullets are ready to fly. But I’m not ready to die.

The Salamancas. Gustavo Fring. I make a list in my head, reminding myself of my enemies.

I also make a list of people I want to avenge, Arturo being one of them.

But the list that makes me keep on walking, that makes me determined to actually allow myself to die, is the list of people to protect. Dad.

I’ve taken farewell to my dad. I’ve somehow accepted the sorrow that I’ll never see him again.

Ever.

Still, every step through the desert feels like hell. My body feels too heavy to carry. My mind is a mess.

But if I feel, I’ll live. And if I live, I’ll be scared of death.

So I shut it all off and continue walking. Walking, towards death.

A black car pulls up.

“Ignacio Varga?” Although I’ve promised myself to not show fright, I reach for my gun. I stare at the man with big eyes. It feels like they’ll fall out of the sockets.

But it’s not Gus. Nor his men. It’s not a Salamanca either.

No… This is..?

The man staring back at me looks smug. Entertained.

As if my situation - my beat up face and body, my pain and rage - is funny to him.

Maybe it is.

The man has brown hair which is turning gray. His brown eyes stare into my soul. I don’t need to tell him that; Yes. Indeed I am Ignacio Varga.

He knows.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Who sent you?” I hiss and before the man in the fancy suit can react, I grab onto his black tie and put the gun against his temple.

Silence.

Then he laughs.

I feel confused, disgusted, even. I let him go and step back. He looks at my dirty hands with disgust and fixes his tie whilst chuckling.

What a psycho sack of shit.

“Ignacio… Por favor. We’re friends!”

“I’m not your anything.”

“We’re allies, Ignacio.” Another car drives up to us. “Get in the car.”

He stops laughing and his face turns cold.

“What?”

“I said, get in the damn car.”

The car that approaches… It’s them. Fuck. It’s them. The people that want me dead.

Before I can react, the man grabs my button-up shirt and drags me into the car.

The fancy son of a bitch drives away, whilst I protest.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses. He drives beyond speed limits and roars in delight.

He seriously finds this… Funny? Before I can ask him and draw my gun, I realize it’s missing.

Fuck!

Then, something is held against my face and I fall into a deep, worried sleep.

One story ends - And another one begins.

Like I said - this was the end of me. The end of the man who I once was.

That day I killed Ignacio “Nacho” Varga. He died, the second I left Albuquerque.

I escaped the rage of the Cartel. I escaped the twisted game that The chicken man forced me to participate in.

I died, but somehow kept on breathing.

My story was over, but he had other plans for me.

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