#narco au

[my-gunpowder]

Josе́ will find Estevan and send him to an American prison

[dos-mariposas]

Lethal Amigos Narco AU:

“Better Not Bite The Hand That Feeds You”

By @senshirei / @dos-mariposas

Part 2/?

Chepe and Estevan - Original Characters by @papermachette ( @lethalamigos )

“Here.” Estevan handed Chepe the heavy brown bag. “That’s $300 mil pesos worth of cocaine. You sell it for double that or don’t even think about working for anyone in this town.”

Chepe raised an eyebrow at the man and placed the bag on the table beside him. Estevan was a cocky hijueputa who acted as if he were more important than he was, as if he were a leader in the Santos del Norte gang; but Chepe was running out of money fast and his lifelong skills as a farmer were not in high demand in the city. Estevan had found Chepe, half drunk, in his new local bar, and after some aggressive back and forth, they soon both realised that it could be a beneficial relationship for both of them.

“And hey, since you’re the new guy, and I got a good feeling about you, this is on the house,” Estevan reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small clear baggie stuffed with white powder. “It’s my own special blend - this sells for top price on the streets, but I’m feeling generous. Enjoy.”

He tossed the drugs at Chepe, who raised his fist and caught the bag in midair, not even pausing a beat before tossing it straight back.

“I don’t need your drugs. I’m here to make money and stay out of fucking trouble. I’ll make you triple back on these,” he gestured at the bag on the table, “so I don’t need your charity.”

Estevan frowned and caught the bag, and began passing it from hand to hand as a slow smile crept onto his face. He sat the small baggie down beside the cocaine Chepe was to sell to whoever was willing to buy - the lowlifes living on the streets dying for a fix, the businessman needing a hit to get through his lunchtime meeting, the society woman who did lines in the bathroom as she powdered her nose. “Heh. You really are a little chihuahua, aren’t you? You better not bite the hand that feeds you, perro.”

Chepe growled at the man before him. “Don’t fucking call me that. Only one person ever called me that, and he’s… not in my fucking life anymore.” He took a step toward Estevan, who held his hands up in front of him in mock surrender.

“Ay, ay, Chihuahua. How about Chi? You might want to take something to help you relax, parcero. You don’t want to mess with the wrong people out here. You’re not in your little village any more… what was it again, Enchinto?”

Chepe gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists to stop himself punching the smug look off of the man in front of him. He breathed deeply in and out through his teeth, clenching his jaw to stop himself retaliating or saying a word.

“Fine. No doubt I’ll find out all about you soon enough, Chi Chi.” Chepe’s eyes blazed with the ridiculous nickname. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other if you want to make it in this town. You might want to stay on my good side, amigo.” He cocked his head to the side with a short, sarcastic snigger; enjoying the rage he was causing in Chepe, but careful not to push the man too far. He’d heard the rumours - Chepe was from the town people had spoken of for years, but no one was quite sure they believed in. The town where magic could get you anything you wanted. And Estevan wanted everything.

“Remember - I want at least double those prices back. You have until the end of the week.” The Santos del Norte gangster reached out and snagged an almost-full bottle of whisky sitting on the counter beside Chepe. “Perfect, I could do with a drink. And hey, I gave you a little something-” he nodded toward the packet of white powder, “and you give me a little something. Looks like we both win, Chi Chi.”

“What the fuck-” Chepe began, but Estevan was already out the door. Chepe let himself drop down to sit on the tatty couch - the only piece of comfortable furniture in the shack he now called home. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could kill for a whisky now, that fucking pendajo. He opened his eyes and looked at the small bag on the table. No. He’d never done drugs before and he didn’t need to now. But fuck, his head was pounding and he was all too aware of the silence filling the room. Chepe never did well on his own. His own head was a dangerous place without the distraction of alcohol swimming in his veins, or a soft, eager girl under his body or strong hands holding his hips from behind, bending him over and-

Fuck.

He gave it five more minutes, and then he snorted his first line.

[angrylilfic]

Hey guys!

Hope you guys are enjoying the Narco AU, I made a playlist!!!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/180X2ARTpoDVFfH4Lf7o1i

[my-gunpowder]

[my-gunpowder]

Line art

(color sometimes kills my painstaking work lolol)

[dos-mariposas]

Lethal Amigos Narco AU: “A Very Lucrative Client”

By @senshirei / @dos-mariposas

Part 1/?

Estevan ( @papermachette ‘s OC) and Carla (my OC)

Carla watched her boyfriend cutting and sectioning the pile of white powder on the table between them with a bored expression. She bent her head down and used a rolled up bill to snort one of the lines of powder he’d set aside for her, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand and sniffing a few times. He always kept his strains separate - the best, the purest; for the two of them and the Boss. The middle of the road for the new customers and the ones he wanted to keep on the good side of. And the shitty mix of mainly talc and crushed painkillers for the low lives he’d got hooked and who would take whatever they could get, whatever they could afford, to stay alive.

Carla licked her ring finger and ran it along the residue left on the table from her line, collecting whatever dust was left. She leaned over the low table, one knee climbing on it, to be able to reach across to Estevan and press her coated finger against his lips. He barely stopped what he was doing to part his lips, letting her slide her finger into his mouth and gently rub the powder along his gums.

“Come on, Papi, you’ve been at this for hours already. Let’s have some fun!” she pouted, bringing her other knee onto the table so she was fully kneeling on it, taking her finger out of his mouth and sucking on it herself.

“Get off the table, you’re gonna mess this all up!” He growled at her, putting his own finger in his mouth to further rub the drugs in.

Carla huffed as she carefully climbed off, sitting herself on his side of the table this time, next to him on the worn, coffee-stained couch. “You’ve been such a fucking dick to me the past few days. What’s going on? You got some new girl or something?”

Estevan laughed unkindly, but then stopped what he was doing and turned to face her, taking her face in both his hands. “Don’t be fucking stupid. Why would I need another girl when I have the queen right here, mi vida? Here…” he quickly sliced her another line off and handed her the rolled up bill, “only the best for my Carlita.”

Carla took the note and snorted the cocaine quickly before taking a long, slow inhale of fresh air through her nose, savouring the feeling of the two lines kicking in. She again licked her finger, slid it across the remnants of the line and rubbed it on her own gums, enjoying the familiar numbing feeling. She turned toward Estevan, pulled his face toward her and kissed him hard. God, she loved this man. His dark, eager eyes flashed open as she began to lift one leg over him, straddling him, and moaning into his mouth, her palms on either side of his face, her tongue dancing with his.

Estevan ran his hands down her back and grabbed her ass, pulling her closer toward him. He pulled his head back and flicked his tongue over his lips with that deliciously dangerous look on his face that made Carla instantly wet every time. She placed her hands on his thighs behind her to give her the leverage to press herself onto his crotch, feeling him harden beneath her and feeling the rush of the drugs in her system and the thrill of being with him, in this crappy shack, surrounded by thousands of dollars of cocaine and empty bottles of whisky and rum and having him wanting and needing her. She began to grind against him, throwing her head back and relishing the feeling of his trousers straining against her.

“Ugh, mami… you know I don’t have time for this right now.”

Carla’s head snapped back up and she blinked at the man she was offering herself up to. “What? What the fuck do you mean? You’re nearly done here!” she gestured at the piles of labelled bags with various amounts of white powder set out on the table.

“Ah.. I have to go do a… social call.” He reached his hand up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, before stroking her cheek. “I’m sorry, you know there’s nothing I’d rather do than fuck you right over this table, right now, but this is potentially a very lucrative client.”

Carla shook her head to dislodge his hand and removed herself from his lap without saying a word. She walked over to look out the dirty window of their current residence, wrinkling her nose at the grime and lifting a half-empty bottle of rum off a nearby counter to hold to her lips.

“Come on baby, don’t be like that,” he whined, already cutting her another line to prevent her from going in a mood. “I promise you, this guy will be worth it.”

Carla took a few gulps of the rum and dangled the bottle neck between her fingers as she walked back to the couch. “Why? He rich? He better not be another one of the boss’s so-called best friends, I don’t want to do another fucking delivery to find another fucking dead body!”

Estevan patted the couch seat beside him for her to sit down. “No, no, mi amor, he’s not dangerous. I wouldn’t put you in danger like that,” - Carla rolled her eyes, she’d heard that one before - “he’s got… information.”

He took the bottle off of her and replaced it with the hundred dollar bill, gently pushing her head down toward the table. “I won’t be long. You know I’m very good at getting what I want.”

Carla obligingly snorted her third line in the last ten minutes and broke into a wild grin, biting her bottom lip. She found it incredibly sexy knowing how her boyfriend could control so many little bastardos with his fists and his drugs. They were rising up the ranks. Soon enough they’d be out of this dump and living in a beautiful farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, she just knew it. She rubbed the remnants of the powder on her gums automatically.

Estevan grabbed the back of Carla’s head and pulled her toward him, crashing his lips into hers and forcing his tongue into her mouth to lick the cocaine from her mouth and get his own rush. He began to stand, still holding her head to his, still roughly meeting her tongue with his, only letting go of her when he was satisfied. She dropped back down to the couch, gazing up at him with eyes burning with lust.

He grabbed a few of the baggies from the table and stuffed them down his sock. He picked up his gun and tucked it in his waistband - he rarely needed it, his own special brand of cocaine was usually enough to keep anyone doing anything he wanted, but he would be stupid to live the life he did without staying protected.

“I’ll be back in an hour. You better be fucking naked and ready the second I step back in that door.”

Carla fluttered her eyelashes and bit her bottom lip again. “Be safe, Papi.”

Estevan nodded. “I told you. This guy is small time. He’s an easy customer. But he knows shit that’s important to me. Don’t worry,” he laughed, and as always his laugh gave the air of someone who relished hurting others and who found joy and humour in pain. Carla felt the familiar throbbing between her legs. That wicked laugh always turned her on and she knew he knew it. “Maybe we’ll be living it up sooner than you think, Princesa, once I break this man. What do they call him again? Oh that’s right, fucking Chihuahua.”

“Chihuahua??” Carla laughed, a laugh that was much lighter and genuine that her boyfriend’s ever was. “How cute!” She bounced up and down on the couch like a child, the drugs completely now taken hold – she was high and excited and completely enraptured with the man before her. She pressed her hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss. “Have fun, mi amor!”

“Oh, I will.”

[dos-mariposas]

Lethal Amigos: Narco AU

“To Survive in This Town”

By @senshirei / @dos-mariposas

Lethal Amigos created by @lethalamigos Estevan & Chepe are @papermachette’s OC

Part 3/? - also on AO3 HERE

Late Thursday night, Chepe was laying spread out of his tatty couch, eyes half closed, an almost empty bottle of tequila on the table. He wasn’t sleeping, but the banging on the door still made his heart jolt out of his chest as he jumped up, immediately grabbing his gun from the table and blinking rapidly to try clear his head from the drug come-down and the fog of tequila swirling around his mind.

“Open up, Chi Chi!” the song-song voice carried through the door to Chepe’s pounding head. Chepe rolled his eyes. Not that fucking hijueputa. He wasn’t in the mood for Estevan’s games tonight.

“What do you want, Estevan?” he growled through the door. “It’s nearly fucking midnight!”

“Just open the door, amigo,” Estevan continued, his cheery voice doing very little to hide the venom beneath it. Chepe hadn’t known the minor-league gang member long, but he already know three important facts: one, Estevan thought he was much more important and powerful than he really was. Two, despite this, he was not someone to get on the wrong side of, and was currently Chepe’s only ticket to surviving in this town. And three, he was a fucking prick.

Chepe gritted his teeth, rubbed his tired and gritty eyes with the heel of his gun-holding hand, and opened the door, positioning himself to block the entrance, not allowing the Santos del Norte member in.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Chepe repeated. He wasn’t posturing with his gun, but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either.

“Ay, ay Chi Chi,” Estevan held up his hands in mock surrender, a familiar gesture of his that Chepe already found infuriating. “Can’t a man visit his friend? Why so defensive?”

Estevan shouldered past Chepe into the room and looked around the dirty room, shaking his head. “Loving what you’re doing to the place, Chi. I hope you’ve not been bringing any girls back here. You’re giving Santos del Norte a bad name.”

Chepe watched the man. Estevan didn’t do ‘social visits’. There’d be a reason for his arrival, and Chepe fucking hated the way the other man made a song and dance out of every interaction. His patience was wearing thin, his head was pounding and he really wanted to just punch the man outcold so he could get back to his semi-slumber on the couch.

Estevan watched Chepe’s face and almost pouted with the lack of reaction he was getting. “I suppose that’s a ‘no’ to bringing girls back here? I’m surprised, amigo, I took you for a lady’s man. Or…” he smirked, stepped close to Chepe, and began to gently reach out a hand toward his face, “is it the boys that you like?”

Chepe grabbed the man’s wrist before he could touch his face. “Fuck off, hijueputa. I’ve asked you nicely and I’m not going to ask again - what the fuck do you want?”

Estevan held Chepe’s gaze and slowly licked his lips, letting his hand go limp in Chepe’s grasp. He bit his bottom lip and gently tugged his wrist out of Chepe’s grasp. Push, push, push. Estevan was still learning exactly what buttons to push for Chepe, but the farmer wasn’t particularly adept at hiding his anger and Estevan was making a mental note of every single temper flare. Chepe had information Estevan wanted; however he wasn’t a fragile, soft man. Chepe was hard, and violent, and even Estevan could admit that he would most likely be the loser in a fair physical fight. But Estevan didn’t play ‘fair’. Estevan was clever, and calculating, and manipulative, and he could break people in other ways.

“It’s Friday. Where is my money?”

That threw Chepe for a second. It must have only been a few minutes past midnight. The deal had been to give Estevan his money on Friday, yes, but a few minutes into the day?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snarled, “you said fucking Friday. I’ll sell your fucking drugs, you’ll get your money tonight.”

Estevan bit his bottom lip again in an exaggerated pouting gesture. “Now, now Chi Chi. That’s no way to speak to your boss” - Chepe simmered with anger - “but fine. You have 24 hours. In the meantime, I thought we should have a chat. Get to know each other a bit better, y’know?”

Estevan turned his back on Chepe and sauntered over to the frayed couch, settling himself down on it as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He reached for the open bottle of tequila on the table and downed the remainder of the contents.

“So… tell me more about you. Who is Chepe? Where does he come from?”

Chepe’s eyes narrowed and he ground his teeth together. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Estevan laughed. It was not a nice sound. “Oh Chi Chi. Why so shy? Let me tell you something about me, then. I know a lot of people in this city. I have a lot of friends in dangerous places. You might want to remember that when I ask you something.”

Chepe stepped closer to the couch Estevan was sitting on. He grabbed the now-empty bottle and threw it toward the gangster, deliberately just missing his head and smashing against the wall behind him.

“Get out.”

“Ay Chi, you don’t make this easy. Fine. We’ll drop it… for now. You better be at my place within 24 hours with the money, though, or you’ll be in very big trouble. Do you understand?”

Chepe was already rapidly regretting his partnership with this man. But he needed money, and selling drugs was the easy way to make it. And… he couldn’t admit it to himself, but he was starting to feel itchy, and fidgety, and his eyes darted to one of the bags of cocaine lying on a side table. Maybe it wasn’t just the cash he needed anymore.

“You’ll get your money. Now piss off.”

Estevan smiled widely and stood up, purposefully walking past the baggies sitting out on the side table and sliding his hand over them as he headed toward the door.

“And Chi Chi? Remember - don’t touch the merch. It’s weighed and counted and trust me, I’ll know.” Chepe’s eyes flared slightly at Estevan’s insinuation, but also at the fact that Chepe couldn’t deny he’d been thinking about it. What the fuck was wrong with him..?

“Do your job right amigo, and you’ll get the good stuff, don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”

Estevan didn’t miss the relief in Chepe’s eyes. The man had such a self destructive streak, such an addictive personality, that Estevan couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he left the room - maybe this would be easier than he’d even hoped.

[angrylilfic]

idk if anyone still cares but a new chapter of my narco AU is going up tomorrow lol