HMMC drabble or thoughts on someone insulting Lalo's wife and calling her dumb/needy or something and Lalo gets angry bc only he's allowed to call her his pet and his sweet dumb girl
yesss ive been slacking with hmmc i need to create a prompt list to be able to have a steady queue with it bc i luvvv lalo i luv u lalo
Idiotic Audacity
Lalo hates when his wife gets involved - even in conversation. Even in passing.
ToxicoHusband!Lalo/Wife!Reader
WC: 1138
Warnings! gun violence and murder, undertones of machismo misogyny
“You got a wife?” the guy started casually, but the mention was enough to make Nacho tense. Enough to make Lalo pause, as he counted the money in his hands. He didn’t look up, but his nostrils flared from what he could see.
“What’s it to you?” Lalo countered in a voice devoid of interest, though the wording betrayed him: he didn’t like when you were talked about. Perceived. Acknowledged. The fact some guy thought you were a talking point over a deal almost made his spit come up. It made him want to hawk a loogie in his eye.
“Your ring finger. It’s inked,” he replied, leaning into his chair. It’s a statement, like the weather being nice or the color of his shirt. A pause, before the next bill is flicked as he counts it.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know any other members who actually have a wife,” he kept going. Nacho palmed his forehead, watching the scene unfold. He never really pressed Lalo about his relationship to his wife. She rarely made eye contact with him, avoided touching him like the plague, and almost used Lalo as a tin can connected by string to the rest of the world; like you were a girl still stuck playing treehouse with a childish telephone.
“Well I do,” Lalo scoffed as he continued to flick through the bills before reaching for a rubber band.
“Your girl okay with it?” the man continues, head lulling back on the chair to watch the ceiling. Like he was bored. Bored talking about the wife of one of the most dangerous men south and now north of the border. The vein in his forehead twitched.
“Girl? She’s not a girl, she’s my wife,” Lalo huffed. The bills flicked again, a stack of paper crisp and without any hints of wear. Perfect.
“Girl, wife? What’s the difference? She’s a girl you married then, it’s the same -”
“It’s not the same. She hasn’t been a girl since she was 17. She’s a woman, she’s a wife. Drop it, pendejo,” Lalo warned with a dense voice as he flicked through the bills with eyes that didn’t glance up.
“What’s wrong with asking about some girl?”
“There’s everything wrong with it, you don’t chat about a man’s wife, especially not mine,” he snarled, smacking the bills down on the adjacent table with a hard face: his nostrils flared, eyes wide, and chest tight. The conspicuous nature of the tattooed band usually confirmed him married but he hated the inevitable questions. The fact anyone but him acknowledged you was enough to piss him off; rarely did people see you. Even rarer did they speak to you. Never did they speak of you.
“Okay, I’ll quit bothering you about some dumb broad and we can get to -”
The next words never come. To is the last word. The firing of a gun forces the room into silence as Nacho stares at the scene: his jaw is clean off and the force of the bullet busting through his cranium left a big splatter on the wall behind him. The wall several feet away. Lalo treads near the body with his wild eyes, that hazy mind without rhyme or reason as he seethed with rage: Lalo kicks the body, toes of his loafer cracking at the skeleton in the corpse. The crack of his shins breaking and body shuffling, limp and lame, at the force of his kicks until Lalo slams the heel of his foot into the body’s chest and forces it back to the floor. Nacho is frozen, listening to Lalo as he fires more shots into the body, “Don’t-”
Shot.
“Call-”
Shot.
“Her-”
Shot.
“Stupid.”
Nacho stands there as Lalo pulls back to reality, tucking his gun back in his pants and breathing hot uneven breaths as he paced in circles with his hands behind his head. Eyes closed. Breathing steadier, steadier, as the minutes of silence passed in the warehouse. Before Lalo leaves, he gestures to the mess to Nacho and sits in the car only after grabbing the wads of uncounted cash. His head in his hands, Lalo is like a child whose secret, most precious toy was discovered. His insurmountable and impossible desire to keep you unknown to the world like a precious painting mounted only for his eyes always seemed to triumph his senses. Nacho rustles the garbage bags in the back of the Monte Carlo and does not ask why he is being dropped off when he is. He just watches the screen in silence as Amber and Jo tentatively try to match the pieces of the puzzle; he can still see the red and hear the gunshot.
-
“So why does he call you stupid? You’re not stupid to him, he doesn’t know you like I know you. He knows I’m married so why does he call you stupid?”
You hum, slicing the steak on his plate before sliding it across the counter before rounding it to sit by him. He’s still annoyed by his audacity and strangely, at the idea that someone insulted you. To say your marriage was devoid of moments of Lalo saying hurtful things would be wrong; a good portion of it was Lalo asking if you were dumb or confirming if you were dumb. His nickname for you most days was “dummy.” Your little face screws in concern, watching him tentatively as he bit into the steak. Watching. He sometimes nitpicked the seasoning of it, depending on how long you left it to marinate as he was gone. But he didn’t. He chewed on the meat, seared to a warm brown, and nestled next to some greens. He drinks until the beer is gone and brushes his teeth with you. Showers with you, silent. Still brooding. You never talk much, so the sound of the evening is the dripping of the faucet and running water in the shower, and rustling of bristles of your toothbrushes. The sound of mouthwash hitting porcelain. The sound of the fan whistling into the nest of blankets you crocheted on the king bed. The hum of the air conditioner.
The rustling of him getting into bed with you, the cord of the lamp switching off, and his breath in your ear. The sensation of his hands pulling you closer to him and fiddling with the fabric of your nightgown (satiny and flowy; easy access). He mumbles into your hair as you start to doze off, your humming into his forearm, “I know you’re smart… you dumb girl…” The last sound of the evening is this: “I think you’re smart too, baby.”
You press your head into his bicep as he spoons you, hand still rustling with the nightgown. You were smart enough to only address him with sweet words, when the rage wore off.
Could you write about Kim confronting Lalo and / or MC about the relationship dynamic ? I just know she’d want to help MC
YESS ive been a bit busy this week but heres the version with Kim confronting reader - if u want a kim vs. lalo focused version u can just send an ask about it! But here it is </3
Solamente Una Vez
Summary: Kim just has a question.
HMMC True Route
WC: 1168
There were less grotesque horror movies, Kim was convinced, looking at the sight. You didn’t go out much, this was abundantly clear in the way you posed yourself against him, looking lightheaded and unsure with flitting eyes and a jittery posture. You looked distraught and lost alone, but only really at ease with another woman. It was depressing.
It took a lot of convincing that the men needed to be alone to have Lalo have you in a room he wasn’t in, but it was okay since it was a mild-mannered married woman like Kim was. She watches you, like a hawk, the way your shoulders lower and heighten calmly in a fashion different from the way you carry yourself with Lalo: stiff. The basic muttering through the wall about business between Saul, Nacho, and Lalo is far off with the intent Kim has; it’s like a scientist observing an endangered animals in the little room. You sit on a chair by her shared bed, sipping some tea with cream and sugar. Quiet. Wordless.
Silent.
“So, how was your day, Mrs. Salamanca?” the blonde gulped, trying to tug a smile out of the other woman.
“Good,” she replied shortly, “and yours?”
“Good,” Kim replied, almost gulping with a brief nod of her head.
Sip.
Wordless, quiet, silent.
“How long have you and Lalo been married?” Your face twists a little, doing the math in your head. A pause.
“Twenty-four years, since 1980, Ms. Kim,” you responded, before sipping again.
“How about you and Mr. Saul?” you mumble, almost like a whisper in case Lalo could hear you through the wall. It goes noticed.
“A few months.” You hum, acknowledging it. Your brows knit, perfectly plucked and the tails filled in.
“First few months are really hard… hope you’re okay, Ms. Kim.” A sip. Noticed.
“It isn’t really. Same as before but a ring this time,” Kim replied. A sip. You seemed to really savor every sip of the tea, like it was a dessert. Your mousy face seems to remember something, then put it down.
A clank.
“Why are the first months hard for you, Mrs. Salamanca?” A hum, no clank nor sip, but your face seems to twist in displeasure at the thought but only for a fleeting moment before replaced with a face of contentment.
“I didn’t really have any boyfriends before Lalo. We got engaged within a week and got married a day or two later. It was hard not knowing what to do or living with a guy you don’t know well, but it turned out fine,” you grin, so hopelessly stupid, “I love him now.”
Every word was dripping in honesty and you meant every word; you loved him so much but every piece of context to your relationship only made her gears turn faster and grimmer. The hum of the men talking next door feels like the hum of an airplane taking off: deafening.
“Only a few days you were engaged?”
“Yes.”
“Was that normal, where you’re from?”
“Mexico? No, it just…” you seem to pause, looking for the word, “happened.” The consideration of what happened crosses your face, so brief you could blink and miss it as the contempt immediately transitioned to gratefulness, like reminiscing a happy memory.
“Do you love him?” It leaves her mouth before she can consider it, the implications and the man next door. Brows knit, mouth twitching.
“Twenty-four years and I love him. More then my life,” your voice cracks. A quivering of the lip.
Her eyes widen, realizing the territory she was breaching before stuttering, “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I was just thinking of you guys not really dating before -“
“I didn’t need to date. He already to chose me before I realized,” you quip, gathering yourself. Cross of the legs, the sundress bunching at the thighs and the thin fabric brushing your ankles. No part of you was out of place, the way she carried herself at work was the way you carried yourself permanently. There was no waver in you any longer; any moment of weakness was immediately covered up and veiled with the prim and proper pout of your pretty face.
“Is he good to you? You can’t look Saul or Ignacio in the eye for him and this is the second time I’ve seen you and you look so withdrawn,” Kim starts quietly, “do you think you’d be this withdrawn or stiff if he didn’t - treat you a certain way? Don’t you want to act like yourself without worrying about what a man thinks?”
It is a feeling of fear, like when blood runs cold, Kim admits to herself internally. Your brows knit, then relax, eyes squint, then relax, lips purse, then relax. Your throat bobs with a gulp. You have this look of contemplation and consideration about it; every action revolved around Lalo. It was natural as breathing. To consider Lalo was integral to your routine as if it was brushing your teeth. Did he like this dress, the fabric and color? Did you smell like his favorite peachy perfume? Did you chew gum or mints before he came home to kiss you?
Did you drop everything at a word to keep him happy?
It is a consideration, but it leaves you only with a sense of agitation. Of course she couldn’t understand. The lady with her college degrees and husband whom she was free to leave if she pleased and survive alone dragging any decision you made through the mud of her judgment thinly veiled as concern. She would never understand that there was no real choice with Lalo. In the forced marriage and the decades that passed were lost to the wind. What else could have been done? College? Dates with boys or crushes on tutors or waiters? Picking foods at the farm? It all seemed mundane and ludicrous to consider. To brew on the concept of shaping your own identity seemed pointless, redundant, and insulting.
Loving Lalo was like winning the lottery, you surmised around year 9 on the marriage.
The crickets chirp a little louder as the door opens, your eyes glued to Kim until Lalo’s voice chimes in: “Ready to go home?”
Your frame subtly relaxes, something that only puts a sense of unease in Kim as she watches you as your breaths level like you were finally calm. Being around Lalo was as natural as a fish in water or breathing air.
It was depressing.
“Si,” you replied, smoothing the black sundress as you rose. The clavicles pressed taut against your skin and the flesh of your decolletage was framed by the low dip of the dress clinging on like a second skin. There’s the letter ‘E’ dangling off a chain and hovering over your heart.
It’s like watching a magnet draw to another, the way he holds out his hand with tentative fingers like about to pick up a rose with thorns and careful to prevent pricking.
He does look like a man in love and she looks like a woman in love
I NEED to see MC and abuela even if it’s just 100 words (╥_╥) Is she different around her ? Like is she more ‘free’ ?
SHE ISSS they love each other and lalo lets abuelita and his wife have weekly calls on his landline. they have so many inside jokes and love each other <//3 its so sad they barely see each other :(
Abuelita and HMMC
WC: 507
Hector and Lalo exchanged no words at the sight.
Hector’s mother and Lalo’s wife were two of few Salamancas uninvolved with the cartel; his mother was none the wiser and you were all too wise. Lalo gives you liberty in earnest to prevent you from going too far from the nest. He does allow for occasional trips to Albuquerque for this however: you and Abuelita making tamales together.
Yolanda took care of the cooking at home and Lalo was too jealous to let the boys eat your delicious cooking. Your servings only served two. Abuelita always got the treat of your cooking, your giddy freedom saturating the house in feminine laughter. The folding of the husks over the doughy masa only crinkled a little over the girlish giggles in the next room over. Hector never really saw you smile, your face shoved into Lalo’s arm like it was shielding you from the sun the way a vampire might fear it. Abuelita’s house had never had daughters, only a medley of rambunctious sons, and only Lalo chose a girl to keep around. It seemed as if the other Salamanca men never even bothered with a wife due to the nature of the business (not that Abuelita knew of course) and Lalo was a sweet enough boy to let his wife bond with Hector’s mother.
“Your wife can laugh?” Hector gives a snarky quip, earning a scoff from his nephew. It would offend him initially but the sight was something he wanted ingrained in his memory. He should have bought those stupid yellow cameras from the dollar store you stopped for a lemonade at near the border if he knew you and Abuelita would be laughing so heartily at the table, hands messy with masa.
It’s so authentic it almost makes Lalo mad. The lack of perfect poise and posture don’t make anger rise in his belly but envy that his Abuelita in their brief moments made his wife so happy. She laughed a belly laugh he only heard from the next room, her hair falling with the movement of her breathless episode of laughter with Abuelita’s snorts too.
You tie the tamale, patting it as it sits in the big pan. Abuelita strokes it like a cat, that inside joke you two have that everything was a cat in a past life. If you pet it enough, it’ll be a cat in the next one.
Hector and Lalo were two serious men. Lalo smiled often, a smug grin, and Hector only had a sparse crooked smile when someone had a bad stroke of luck and fell flat in front of him. The women don’t catch the smiling from the other room through the doorway that looks into the area where the dining table sits, focused on the stickiness of the masa in their hands.
Your perfect manicure hands pass the husk to Abuelita’s aged ones. You pet her hand like she’s a cat and laugh a belly laugh.
Are we gonna get new Lalo content when you have time or do you consider the story over ? :)
Im open to staying in the realm of hmmc reader but I may reblog drabble prompts to help me get creative juices - if I write I will prob stay w drabbles to explore how a couple like them loves each other or if they feel love at all
Did MC meet Abuela ? And if so what was their relationship like ?
SHE DID MEET ABUELITAAA
Lalo and Hector would sometimes arrange meetings because they like the same things and swap recipes when they met. They like the same shows and got along really well so Hector appreciates hmmc in a way that he definitely approves of her because of it :>
In the beginning of BCS, she actually intermittently would visit Abuelita in NM whenever Lalo came up for business to see her mostly. She sometimes would very (not so subtly) drop hints that she missed Abuelita to come up and visit. She's very civil and polite with Hector throughout her and Lalo's marriage so the men would just drink in the other room while HMMC and Abuelita would watch telenovelas or cook together <33 they are actually so sweet to watch because both of them are a bit lonesome in their own ways
Do you think the MC could’ve attended Lalo’s trial and maybe replace his ‘family’ ?
Actually no, mostly because Lalo specifically instructs Jimmy to keep her apart from the jail because he doesn't want her to be 1) out of the house and 2) see him in the orange suit. It just isn't his color man.
Plus since Jimmy wants to play into the step-dad role he seeks out a family with kids to play this out. Hmmc just is at home like :< throughout Lalo's imprisonment era. But good question! He really just keeps her locked up in the house most situations ...
Would Gus try to kill MC either during BCS or Breaking Bad (Because she helps Hector in a way and still has the Salamanca name) ?
Gus actually doesn't try to actively kill hmmc. If she dies in the line of fire from his men he really wouldn't blink twice but he also knows the bare bones of her Stockholm Syndrome from meetings with Ignacio. He did consider seeking her out to kill her but it would only make Lalo more rowdy and killing her just seemed pointless.
She does, at one point, almost get clocked by his men when they invade Lalo's house but generally hmmc is actually self-sufficient because she exercises a lot and 'trains' because she is a shit shot. In the Lalo house raid, she probably killed one or two men Gus hired but Gus really just thinks only Lalo did it.
After the shoot-out at Tuco's and Hector getting moved to Casa Tranquila, he does meet her on one occassion as she was talking to Hector at the home (not both with Hector) but they exchanged some civil passing words and he just kind of pitied her. They met about 4 years after Lalo passed away and he just leaves her alone really. She's mostly a bystander in a lot of circumstances in his eyes or just a tree in the background :/
We know Lalo hates the thought of children, but what if it happened and he couldn’t do anything about it ? What would he do with this situation ? Or, another idea could be, after his death the MC is left with a kid, and we know Gus wants to destroy all the Salamancas so he comes after the both of them ? I understand if you don’t want to write this, but I can’t help but wonder :)
Ok warnings for medical sterilization/malpractice
I really hate to say this bc this will make u hate their dynamic but Lalo when he was like 19 actually paid a doctor to get her sterilized. He also got a vasectomy when he was like 20 because she started an argument about it and he was like FINE. They can't have kids which hmmc was fine with because at the beginning of their marriage she wanted to kill him and definitely didn't want her body to be altered with his baby. She didn't understand how bad the relationship was until later and is grateful she didn't give him kids bc he would be so mad.
when he had a doctor sterilize her, he was about 19 pushing 20 so he only had sex in mind in regards to her. As they got older and his cartel responsibilities increased he mostly regarded her as a bed warmer but he rly does feel love for her just not in a good way like he genuinely won't even let her have a pet bc it would distract her from him he's like a real pos
I appreciate the ask tho! I'm actually a person who doesn't want children myself and wrote this because a lot of content with Lalo has him fantasize abt impregnation and since I'm a tokophobe and don't want kids I was like "im writing this so there's no kid involved" - you didn't know that tho so it's no prob at all! I haven't updated or pinned my rules but I'm putting up a masterlist and rules soon to make it clearer <3 I rly appreciate u stopping by and reading my stuff!!
