NO STRESS — Armando Aretas [Fall Crumbles] 🤎

ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ

“Mami, don’t piss me off.” Armando spews at you, eyes locked on you from the moment you walked through the doors of your shared palace.

The way you sauntered along the marble floor, natural sway in your hips, with a strut in your step as your heels clacked along the texture, and your jacket slightly hung off your shoulders as you made your way over to the grand table, implied you were onto something lethal.

You oozed luxury as you took your seat so elegantly at the opposite head of the table, fixing your Prada shades back along your fresh silk press, all while beaming to your right, Mike’s hand going out to grab yours with a smile, as you almost pressed your glossed lips to your other fingertips to silently kiss at him in greeting.

One of your young servers—named Romil—you did the simple task of learning all of your employees names, immediately came to your left, your fizzy speciality already awaited for you in a flute glass, which you plucked into your grasp and always thanked your workers with a warm smile, “Thank you, Rom.”

He quickly sent a smile your way with a dip of his head before moving to stand away from the table in one of the corners. The servers were always supposed to give those at the dinner table space, waiting hand and foot on you. At times you found it ridiculous, knowing you can do these basic tasks on your own, (which you often did) especially on holidays when they should be off with their own loved ones, but you always made it a oath that they were included on gifts every year.

As the First Lady of Miami (Technically it was Florida but “Miami” just sounded better, especially since that’s where you all resided), it was not in your nature to ever treat anyone as less then. You were not that type of bitch, Lady of Georgia, the nasty shady Southern Belle, gratefully held that title.

A loud clearing of a throat and a side of a fist hitting the table, made the utensils on the table jump, and eyes turn to Armando, except for you who took your time facing your husband as you swallowed the Prosecco.

“Excuse me? Did you hear what I said?” Armando hissed.

Your smile could make anyone weak in the knees but Armando looked right past that since you were irking his nerves, “Hello to you too, baby. And No, I didn’t. What’s wrong?”

The way Armando’s eyes went into slits while resting his elbows on the table and pressed his clasped hands to his lips for a moment made his father, Mike Lowrey mumble to himself, “Oh shit.”

SAVE YOUR BREATH — Armando Aretas [October Prompts] 🧡

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

Giving Armando space wasn’t really effective since he can still feel you hovering, whether you were behind him lounging against the wall and slicing up some apples to eat while you kept quiet for the most part, or just you simply letting your ghost eyes chill through him.

He’s been on his computer for weeks and didn’t want any help. Any wink of sleep he got was not something he allowed on his own, he’s been functioning off caffeine and eye drops to keep him going trying to track down your killer. Mike’s been telling him to let him handle it, since there was a part of Mike that knew Armando would be back to his old ways, especially after losing you. Now that Mike was slowly building something with his son, he didn’t want Armando to throw it all away. Which definitely brought off heated energy because who was Mike Lowrey to tell Armando how to get justice? Armando had his mother to thank for that, even in death, she was still controlling his life. It has been months since he was on the run and since you played a part in his hiding, that meant you had to serve time, whereas Mike pulled a deal for Armando to work for AMMO that would amount up to the added time he needed to serve, You got the short end of the stick.

No shock there—and to make a long story short, you gave as good as you could in prison but Armando’s mother had it planned that if something were to ever happen to her, she had people that would take you out as well, since she had this unhealthy jealousy when it came to you and Armando.

UPSIDE DOWN — [October Randoms!] 🧡

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ARMANDO:

You’d bug him about doing it but he wouldn’t budge. He just didn’t see the point until you started to challenge his strength. Once you did that, that undermining shit that’s when you pushed a nerve. He’ll plot against you, and catch you off guard, maybe when you’re in the bathroom doing a night or morning routine.

He’ll sneak right up behind you, crouching before he pops up, making you gasp and flail around as he flips you upside down in your PJ’s. He’ll hold you there for a second, smirking down at you but you can’t see that since he’s pulling your ass up over his left shoulder, holding onto your ribcage and providing you with a nice stretch.

“Arman!” You yell, hands reaching out to the floor—just in case—with your lip balm now rolling against the tile floor, “okay we get it, you’re Hercules. Put me down now.”

“Talk to me nice from now on, okay mami?”

MONOPOLY — Armando Aretas [September Prompts] 🩶

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻

when Armando was informed that you got hurt out in Italy, he made it his mission to get on the next flight. AMMO was working on a case that would require them to fly out there by the end of the week so he just went earlier, despite the knowing look detective Mike sent his way.

He knows his son became fond of you quickly once they worked with your team, although Armando tried to hide it, it became obvious to Mike. Watching Armando analyze every move you made with admiration and how you commanded orders within your own team. When your team got involved that meant it was more than serious and Secada always made your team the last option if AMMO needed back up. Things tended to get reckless in the moment but you always made sure to clean up well.

Over the last few years you haven’t been getting your hands as dirty, something Armando overheard you sharing with Secada and Detective Lowrey, having your team do most of the work while you supervised but that didn’t mean you forgot everything that you’ve learned. Which is why you have a dagger jammed up right against Armando’s throat, bag of frozen peas dropped to both of your feet as you had Armando pressed up against the wall of the villa out in Collesano.

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL — Armando Aretas.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Are you ready for school, baby luv?” You question your four year old that’s seated in their car seat behind you.

“Yes mommy!” The usual hoarse tone from your daughter is heard with tiny Alisha responding; she’s practically itching to get out of the seat behind you.

She was awake before you came to wake her for the big day, sitting up patiently in her montessori bed waiting on you this time around. This was a giveaway that she’s been excited since the girl loved her sleep but Armando’s been persuasive on telling her that she’s going to have the best time learning.

Alisha was already bright on her own so you had no doubt that she’ll pick up on new material quick.

“Ready to be on your best behavior and make lots of friends?” You question as you feel your stomach cramp with nerves the closer you got to Alisha’s preschool.

Armando cuts in as he stops at the stop sign, peeking at the beaded haired girl in the rear view, “and remember what daddy told you if anyone tries to be mean to you?”

“Um? Five fingers to…their tummy!”

You cut your eyes at your man, who meets your stare with a side eye. He shrugs at your look as he says, “what? Ain’t nobody tryin’ my girl if I got something to say about it.”

You scoff, “you know how hard it was to get her into this school, don’t go corrupting her like that.”

“I’m not.” He makes a right at the stop sign, “she has to protect herself.”

“Then she needs to talk to a teacher.”

“Majority of them have been clocked out for the longest.” Armando states, “Sure they may look all prim and proper with sun rays shooting out of their heads—and I’m not manifesting like you love to say but if I ever get a call that they neglected Lishy? I’m on everybody’s ass.”

HOW THEY DEAL WITH DISRESPECTFUL NEIGHBORS — MULTI [Summer Preferences]

<- read my previous summer anthology prompt here.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

~ARMANDO~

He doesn’t take disrespect lightly.

The both of you lived just fine in your condo out in Miami, although Armando preferred the privacy more than anything he just kept this to the back of his mind that he was going to provide for your dream house together. Having your four year old daughter, Isaura only gave him more drive to get out of here.

The neighbors that lived on the floor directly above you, were all wide smiles and friendly making it their special job to try and introduce themselves to whoever they caught. They found you three at the pool one Sunday evening before dinner. Armando immediately felt they were weird telling you later that night in bed beside you, “they look like they eat people.”

“Armando!” You scolded as you slipped a bonnet on a half sleep Isaura, “they do but maybe they’re just the over friendly type.”

Armando sucked his teeth as he reached around you to snatch the sleepy toddler into his chest, “niña, can you say oblivious? tell mama that’s exactly what she is.”

The neighbors to left of me are so corny. You allow your two little boys to run around the house at all sorts of hours instead of taking them outside, mind you they can be running and jumping off furniture creating loud noises as early as 2 in the damn morning when people also have to go to WORK/GET UP to work at home!! They’ve even thrown a damn ball against the wall—I witnessed it when they had the audacity to have their curtains open then the mom tried to close the curtains real fast. The minute I play music to drown out the noise and shut it off, here they go copying not even ten minutes later and playing music too lmao. It’s one thing if y’all were respectful and we were the ones making all the noise but when you blatantly make it obvious that you’re trying to get your lick back, all you can do is laugh.

I should write a little messy Drabble on this but idk which character it feels more like: Armando, Rio, Manny, Mikey B, or Luca. Let me know? 😈

LOVE FOR A MINUTE — ARMANDO ARETAS [Summer Randoms]

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁

All it took was some passionfruit soda to figure out that you were cheating on him. Not only cheating but with someone he unfortunately worked alongside of.

Rafe.

And Armando already couldn’t stand his obnoxious ass. It didn’t take him long to figure it out either, the dots being connected unbeknownst to you and it was no secret that Armando was a man of few words but he was also very observant. Rafe had no issue being the loudest in the room, the type of co-worker that loved playing videos on his phone on the highest of volumes that one of his speakers was actually on its way out.

Rafe was all protein shakes, açaí bowls, and early morning workout routines but the moment he showed up with a plastic filled cup with a colorful beverage, burping up a storm from the other side of Kelly, who kept giving him warnings while she cleaned her favorite weapon of choice at her spot of the desk, that was the final blow for Armando.

GRANDMA’S HOUSE — ARMANDO ARETAS x BLACK! READER [Summer Randoms]

<- read my previous anthology piece here.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your grandmother smelled like fresh baked cookies with a hint of peppermint, Armando thinks as the smaller woman embraces him at the front door. The ranch styled house is more fitting than the coastal one she offered you two to stay in last summer out in The Hamptons. From what Armando’s learned about the elderly woman is that she may have the sweetest face but her lip was more deadly than anything. He would have never guessed that Granny Bessie would ever want to be bothered with the folks out there but it was evident that she held her own.

He shouldn’t have suspected anything less.

“Oh you’re so handsome,” Granny Bessie pats Armando’s cheek before staring up at his hair, “You got Indian in you? Looking like you got that Arabian grade of hair.”

Armando casted a glance at you who deeply sighed at the slight ignorance in the entry way of the home. He kept a smile on his face, finding this humorous more than anything, “No, ma’am. I’m Hispanic: Mexican…and black. I used to get Guyanese all the time though.”

The woman nods in agreement as she waves him into the home, “I thought your daddy was coming too?”

Armando inhaled at the mention of the man, who your granny had no issue inviting to her home as well for the upcoming festivities, “Detective Lowrey’s flight got delayed, probably won’t be here until early morning.”

The woman raised a brow at Armando as she closes the door behind him, “You call your father by his profession?”

“Well he hasn’t been much of a father so, yeah.”

“Hold on now, that’s still your blood—

“Granny! How’s the garden been treating you?”