Here's a sneak peek at the next part of my Tuco Salamanca x OC story I've been working on i hope you guys will enjoy what's to come ♥︎
Tuco stood outside 217 Mariposa Lane, shifting from foot to foot like he’d been caught sneaking onto holy ground. The wind chimes, those dumb jellyfish things, that clinked softly in the breeze. A cat sunbathing on a windowsill stared at him like, "You don’t belong here". He glared back.
One minute you were riding solo, minding your own business, and the next, you were stuck with Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez — yes, he insisted you say the full thing the first time you met. Then he winked and said, “But for you, bonita, just call me Tuco.”
Trouble had a name, and it had just fallen off a moving train, rolled into your campfire, and eaten all your jerky.
It started like this:
You were camped under the stars, peacefully roasting beans over a fire, when a man — dusty, sweaty, and extremely loud — stumbled out of the shadows like he'd just been chased by every bounty hunter west of the Mississippi.
“¡Ay caramba! What a day!” Tuco groaned, flopping down by your fire like it was his own personal hotel.
You blinked. “Who... are you?”
“Tuco!” he said proudly, grinning like he wasn’t bleeding slightly and covered in cactus needles. “And you, mi cielo, are my new traveling companion.”
You stared. “I never agreed to that.”
Tuco pointed at your pot. “You gonna eat all those beans by yourself? That’s a lonely way to die.”
🌵 Weeks Later...
Against all reason and sanity, you hadn’t kicked him out. In fact, you'd gotten used to his wild energy. His dramatic storytelling. His endless arguments with himself. His stupid, lopsided smile.
He called you “angel” when he was in a good mood, “brat” when he was in a bad one, and “mi amor” when he wanted something.
One evening, after escaping a shootout (again), you collapsed behind some rocks, both panting and dusty.
Tuco looked at you, face smeared with dirt, eyes wide. “You... you are amazing.”
You raised a brow. “You mean because I shot that guy who was about to kill you?”
He grinned. “Yes. And also because you did it without spilling our dinner. That’s talent.”
You tried not to smile. “That dinner you didn’t help cook?”
He pulled a shiny, stolen spoon from his coat like it was a treasure. “I brought utensils. That’s teamwork.”
❤️ The Funny Kind of Love
Tuco wasn’t exactly a romantic, not in the traditional sense. He tried to be.
Once, he gave you a flower — still attached to the whole bush, roots and dirt included.
Another time, he tried to serenade you and ended up breaking two guitar strings and swearing in three languages.
But one night, you woke up from a nightmare, heart racing. Tuco was on watch. He walked over silently, sat beside you, and handed you his revolver.
“You feel safer with this next to you,” he said. “I sleep with mine under my hat.”
You stared. “Thanks…?”
Then he added, quietly, “No one hurts you while I’m around. I’ll shoot 'em. In the knee first. Then twice in the butt, for fun.”
You laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
He smirked. “You like that about me.”
You did. Way more than you were willing to admit out loud.
🌙 Final Scene – Campfire, Cuddles, Chaos
You sat by the fire, legs draped over Tuco’s lap, his poncho wrapped around you both. He was dramatically retelling a story about escaping a jail using only a spoon and a bored guard. You were pretty sure 90% of it was made up.
But you didn’t care.
His hand absentmindedly rubbed circles on your thigh as he talked. When you leaned your head on his shoulder, he stopped mid-story.
“You okay, angel?”
“Mhm. Just comfy.”
He went quiet for a moment, unusually soft. Then he said, “You know, I’ve had gold, guns, and trouble... but you’re the only thing that ever felt like a home.”
You looked up, surprised.
Tuco blinked. “I mean, not like a house home, I ain’t ready for curtains or nothing. But, like... y’know, feelings.”
You laughed into his chest. “I know, Tuco. I know.”
He kissed your forehead, grinning. “Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me now. And I snore.”
