#carrillo x you

[aesthetic-bbyg]

WHY IS EVERYBODY FROM NARCOS SO FUCKING FINE???🗣️🗣️🗣️

[drabbles-mc]

For Better or Worse

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, angsty angst

30 Fic Challenge with prompts from This List: pyrrhic- won at too great a cost

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: it's been forever and a day since i've written for my fave colombian colonel but the second i saw this prompt i knew it was made for him and his heartbreak 😌

Your relief when it was all done and over with was twenty-fold, a million different reasons to breathe easier now and they were all intertwined with one another. You were relieved in te grandiose, altruistic sense: Escobar’s death made the streets of Colombia safer for everyone. There was one less sword hanging over people’s heads, the fear of going to the shops or hailing a taxi would finally start to subside. Children could feel safe going to and from school, playing with their friends along the way. Medellín could try to take a moment to rest and recover.

Then there were the selfish, much more personal reasons that you were relieved. You could finally sleep through the night again, maybe your hands would finally stop trembling every time you heard his name. Your wedding ring wouldn’t have to keep serving as a token of prayer for the safety of your husband. You wouldn’t have to worry about where he was, if he was alive or injured, because now he would get to be home. You’d go to sleep with him there, and when you woke up he’d still be there.

Horacio had gone to war with Escobar and managed to be the one who lived to tell the tale. And you were relieved by that in a way that you couldn’t manage to put into words.

You cried when the news broke. Years of sobs that had been locked inside your chest finally getting able to break free, tears streaming down your cheeks until they fell and splattered against the floorboards. All that time spent drowning in fear that you couldn’t express, your claws digging so deeply into the few strands of hope you still had that it’d be scarred for the rest of time. But it was worth it. Every agonizing moment had been worth it because of the news reel constantly looping on your television.

You waited for the phone to start ringing. There was still work to be done, and you knew that, but you were waiting for that to be taken care of, and for Horacio to call. With every task you completed you made sure that you were still listening intently for the phone. Even on the opposite side of the house, you were waiting to hear it, ready to drop everything you were doing to answer it.

Minutes easily turned into an hour, one hour gave way to three, and the phone was still silently hanging on the wall. The sun continued its arc over the top of your house, the sky slowly changing color the closer and closer it got to the horizon line. The relief that you had been feeling earlier in the day began to fade, the knot in your stomach beginning to retie itself.

The sky was dissolving into a light gray when you heard the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. You were sitting at the dining room table, head snapping in the direction of the sound. Without realizing it, you held your breath as you waited for the door to open and for Horacio to walk through.

It was only the sound of his boots on the floor that let you know it was him. He’d never really been the type to call out for you when he got home. He wasn’t going to change now—ever the man of routine. There were a few moments of quiet, and the next set of footsteps you heard were much quieter than the ones previously, his boots surely left right beside the door now.

When he materialized in the dining room doorway, you were up on your feet before you could stop yourself. You didn’t feel your legs carrying you over to him, but before you knew it your arms were thrown around him, face buried in the crook of his neck. Your fingers threaded themselves into the hair on the back of his head, hair that was growing unruly because getting it cut hadn’t been at the top of the priority list in a long time.

His arms snaked around your waist, and as he pulled you in tighter, you felt he tension begin to bleed out of his shoulders. The breath that had been held captive in your chest made its way out with a shudder as the two of you collapsed into each other.

Time slipped away, and you weren’t sure how long the two of you stood like that in the middle of the house. When you finally pulled back from him, you didn’t go very far. Hands resting on his shoulders, fingers curled over the curve of them, you tried to dig up the right words to say.

You brought one hand to the side of his face, thumb tracing back and forth over the stubble that was beginning to grow in there. When you finally got the words out, they came in a choked whisper, like the hours spent waiting in silence had caused your vocal cords to rust. “You did it. It’s over.”

He placed his hand on top of yours, his fingers filling in the gaps between yours. He clasped your hand in his as he pulled it away from his cheek. You were looking back and forth between his eyes and your intertwined hands, tears of relief prickling the edges of your eyes as he pressed his lips to your knuckles.

You waited with bated breath to hear what he was going to say next. Waited for some confirmation of what you’d said, some expression of his own relief. His eyes shut for a moment, lips still pressed against your hand. You could see it, feel it, the way that he pulled in each deep, slow breath.

Finally, he opened his eyes. He let your hands drop down, fingers still laced together. He nodded, not frowning but certainly not smiling either as he said, “For now.”

It felt like your entire body was trying to fold into itself at that. You hated the way you could feel your bottom lip starting to tremble but you couldn’t stop it from happening. Hand on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat underneath your palm. Steady as it ever was.

“Horacio…” you started and stopped your sentence all in the same breath, unsure of what you really wanted to say to him next.

Pulling you in, he kissed you lightly on the lips before moving and placing another kiss to your temple, lips beside your ear as he gave a soft but earnest, “I love you.”

Your eyes shut, tears clinging to your eyelashes for all that they were worth. “I love you too.”

With more tenderness than the world at large thought he was capable of, he caught and brushed the tears off your face with the pad of his thumb. Whisked them away before they had the opportunity to leave a stain.

“You’re home now?” you asked, hesitation in your voice saying that you already knew the answer.

Confusion flickered across his face. “Of course I am. I’ve always been—”

“No you haven’t,” you stopped him short, a tremor still permeating your voice. “You know you haven’t.”

He frowned, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to say next. There was no rulebook for this, not that he had ever been a fan of the concept anyway. It was all uncharted territory—always had been. The two of you had been managing so far, or some approximation of that, but for you it was doable because there had always been the end-goal, the finish line. It felt as though it was always getting farther and farther away. But then today happened. And the news played. You’d done it—you’d made it to the end of the agony.

Or at least that’s what you’d thought until those first two words fell from his lips. The relief of victory was being ripped away from you when you’d barely been able to brush it with the tips of your fingers.

He felt you thinking about pulling away. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, he tried to coax you into staying close. “I know that it hasn’t been easy.”

“It was supposed to be over, Horacio,” your voice cracked and there was nothing you could do to stop it. “He’s dead—that’s what this has all been about, hasn’t it? It’s over.” Your hands, even the one enveloped by his, trembled. “It’s supposed to be over now.” You sniffled to try to keep your tears and the rest of your emotions at bay. “You won.”

“This time,” he conceded with a nod. “But there’s always another—”

“Does it have to be you?”

“What?”

“Can’t it be someone else?”

“I’m—”

“Just this once?” you plead. “You did all of this for them. Why can’t it be someone else’s turn now?”

He shook his head, and you waited for the argument, but it never came. You couldn’t tell by the look on his face whether he was silent because he wasn’t ready to say the answer that he had in mind, or if he was silent because the answer hadn’t come to him yet. It’d be nice if he was just trying to be merciful.

 Another few seconds of silence passed before he pulled you in again. You fought him for a moment before allowing your cheek to rest against his shoulder. When you felt his hands splaying across your back you tried to find the comfort in it, but all you could think about was the fact that you didn’t know when you’d get to have him like this again. He was supposed to be home. That was supposed to be the reward for the both of you, the sliver of benefit for all that this war had cost the two of you.

“I can’t,” you stammered out, “I can’t do this again.”

You felt the way he turned, lips brushing against the side of your head with each word. “What do you mean?”

Not pulling yourself off of him, you shook your head as best you could. “We almost didn’t make it through this one, Horacio. I…I know that we won’t be able to do it again.”

“We’re alright,” he reassured, and he even sounded like he believed it.

Now you pulled away. Not far, just enough so that you could look him in the eye when you spoke to him. “We won’t be if you do this again.” Your voice was level, more certain than it’d been yet.

His eyes narrowed for a moment. For a split second you weren’t his wife, you were just another person that he had to size up to see if he could put stock into the threat. It stung but you couldn’t back down now that you’d said it. All those years of silence and now this.

“What are you saying?” he asked, like he didn’t already know.

You took a steadying breath, making sure to choose your words carefully. If he was going to be The Colonel right now instead of your husband, you were going to act accordingly. “I’m saying that these last few years turned you, turned us into something else entirely. And I took it because I…I know what they asked of you. But they aren’t…they aren’t asking anymore. I almost lost you over this one. I can’t keep us tethered together for another.”

“So you’ll leave?”

“You’ll leave. Again.”

His hands were resting on the outsides of your arms, brows pinned together in confusion. “Again?”

“You haven’t been here in—”

“Yes I—”

“No, you haven’t.” You stood firm, knowing that you were right and he couldn’t take that away from you. “Not really. The shell of you might have come through that door a couple nights a week, but you,” you emphasized your statement by placing your palm flat against his chest, “haven’t made it home in a long time.”

He didn’t say it, wouldn’t cop to it so easily, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that your words had struck a chord with him. His thumb ran back and forth across your arm. “This wasn’t ever going to be easy.”

You shook your head. “But it wasn’t ever supposed to be this hard. Not…not forever, anyway.”

“You say that like this has all cost you something,” bitterness began to creep into his voice. He was teetering on the edge of getting cruel and you could feel him fighting it off.

“It has. And,” your fingers curled, gripping the fabric of his fatigues, “and if I lose you then it’s going to cost me everything.” You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes again. “I feel like it already has.”

He shook his head. “You can’t ask me to do this.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “But you can keep asking me?”

“Did it mean anything?” The edge in his tone was renewed, a freshly sharpened blade. “Your vows?”

You stepped back, your hand holding the space between the two of you. “You don’t get to throw—”

“What happened to better or worse?”

You threw your arms out, gesturing to the entirety of the world around you. “I lived it!” you snapped. “What do you think this has all been, Horacio?” You angrily wiped at the tears that were spilling down your cheeks. “This was the ‘worse’ of it all. I knew that. I knew that and I stayed because I promised you that I would. But…but if you’re all out of better for me, if all you have left for me is the worst of it, then I don’t…”

The longer that the silence stretched between the two of you, the more foolish you felt for having been relieved in the first place at all. The universe should’ve taught you to know better by now. Or, at the very least, your husband should’ve. The look he was giving you was an unwavering one, one that made you feel like you should be saying something more but it was all in his court now. If he wanted something, had something to say, it was all on him now. You said your piece after keeping it locked inside your chest for so long. Now it was his turn.

His jaw twitched and you felt it, that feeling of your breath stopping halfway down your throat. You waited for the next devastating blow, or even a surprise of him coming back with something that you wanted to hear, something that resembled compromise.

When he opened his mouth to speak, you swore that you could actually feel the way that your heart stopped as you waited for him to speak. Then the furrow in his brow disappeared, his jaw snapped shut, and you felt like collapsing to the floor all over again for a completely different reason. You ran your thumb along the wedding band wrapped around your finger, and Horacio watched silently as you did. A stalemate in the wake of victory wasn’t what either of you had been expecting, but for now it was what you had.

(divider by @silkholland 💞)

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[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 31- Free choice

Fee use orgy with the Narcos boys

Horacio Carrillo x Javier Peña x Steve Murphy x fem!reader

Word count- 2.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), restraints, blindfold, free use, group sex, piv, anal, oral, pussy slapping, overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, praise, no use of y/n (there's a lot in this one so please let me know if I forgot anything!)

About this reader- stated to be involved with both Carrillos but I left it vague so it's open to interpretation, also mentioned she used to be involved with Javi but again it's open to interpretation, hinted to be bisexual but can be left up to you how you read it, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Going out with a bang here literally lol! Oh I had so much fun with this one so I hope y'all have just as much fun reading it! And by far this is the longest fic of the month. Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“Peña. Murphy. My office,” Colonel Carrillo ordered the two men. It was late in the day, and only a skeleton crew still lingered behind. 

The two agents looked at each other with a serious expression before they silently stood and followed the Colonel. He seemed stiff, and his expression was unreadable. Neither Steve nor Javi knew what to make of him at that moment. 

Carrillo glanced around the empty office as half the lights shut off on their own, leaving the three men in shadows. He inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest as he did so.

Once Javier and Steve reached the doorway of Carrillo’s office, he paused and turned to them, “It has come to my attention that the two of you have been working too hard lately.”

“And?” Steve huffed as he crossed his arms. Javier mirrored the action.

Carrillo flashed a smirk before he opened his office door, “This way.”

Javier and Steve exchanged one last glance before they followed into the dark office. Carrillo was right behind them, and they noticed that he closed and locked the door before he flicked the lights on. And when the two men laid eyes on what surprise the colonel had in store for them, their mouths dropped open in shock.

“Hello boys,” you purred from where you were laid out on the desk.

“Wait a second,” Steve sounded flustered as he tripped over his words.

Javier just grinned, “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he turned to address you by name, “How did you get roped into this?”

“This is some shit Javi would think up. Not you,” Steve interjected.

Carrillo raised his hands in surrender as his eyes dropped to the floor, “This was her idea actually,” he sounded uncharacteristically sheepish at the confession.

The grin never left your face, entertained by the expression of shock and confusion on Steve and Javier’s faces. Finding you naked and tied to Carrillo’s desk was the last thing they expected. But, you had a feeling this was just the perfect remedy they needed.

“Horacio has been under a lot of pressure lately,” you explained, “Juliana and I can tell when he’s off. And… We came up with this arrangement,” you shimmied your shoulders as much as you could while bound by Carrillo’s tight binds, letting the rest explain itself.

Steve and Javier looked at Carrillo. Then, Steve turned to Javier, “How do you know her then?”

“We have a history,” Javier left it at that. His eyes never left the Colonel, though, surprised to find you of all people involved with him. 

“Wait, wait,” Steve protested, “I have a wife, you know.”

“You could have brought her too,” you smirked, giving Steve a wink when his eyes locked with yours.

That made Steve blush. Javier covered his face to hide the proud smirk at the fact that you accomplished that. But, his own gaze wandered back to your tied, naked figure spread out of Carrillo’s desk. He clenched his fist as he thought about everything he would easily do to you while you were like that. He couldn’t help the thoughts that popped into his head.

Feeling his gaze on you, you looked up to meet his eyes and your breath caught in your chest for a moment. It wasn’t until you saw Carrillo move from around him and saunter over to you that you remembered to breathe again.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Carrillo’s commanding voice broke the tension in the room, “She is here for us to use. Get whatever shit you’re holding onto out. And tomorrow, we start fresh.” 

Carrillo looked you over, admiring his handiwork. He reached out and gently caressed your body with the back of his hand, causing you to gasp. Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the light, teasing touch of him, and goosebumps erupted on your skin wherever his hand grazed. Knowing exactly what spots drove you wild, Carrillo gave you light pinches and squeezes, murmuring your name with praise.

“You know your signal if you need to stop,” he spoke softly in your ear as he pulled something out of his pocket.

“I do,” you whispered back as you opened your eyes and were met with his handsome face just inches from yours.

“Good,” Carrillo leaned in and kissed you deeply as he yanked the bandana in his hand taut. Vaguely, you both heard groaning from the other end of the room, and you knew the others were enjoying the little display. He broke away from the kiss, placing one last light one between your eyes before he tied the bandana securely around them, blocking your vision and leaving you even more helpless.

You couldn’t stop the moan as a rush of excitement ran through your veins. It had been a secret fantasy for this to happen, and when the opportunity presented itself, you jumped on it. You arched your back as you felt a hand, Carrillo’s, ran across your chest and stomach, tracing a random pattern until it grabbed your breast firmly. You cried out as he pinched your nipple and rolled it between his calloused fingers.

Javier and Steve watched with sharp eyes as Carrillo caressed your body. They felt the heat all the way on the other side of the office, and they felt just as captivated as you were. Javier had no qualms about what Carrillo proposed from the start, and he unbuttoned his shirt and belt without another word. Even Steve, who was hesitant at first, felt drawn to you, and he too loosened his shirt.

“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” Carrillo smirked with pride as he squeezed your breasts again, making you moan. 

The way Carrillo had you tied left you on full display for the men in the room. Your legs were tied to each corner of the desk, spreading them wide and leaving your dripping pussy fully exposed. Your arms were tied together above your head at the other end of the desk, pushing your breasts up. The binds were so tight that you could barely even wriggle from side to side, but you assured Carrillo before he went to get the other two that you were comfortable like this. 

You were going to be here for a while after all. 

“She is,” Javier murmured as his eyes landed on your cunt. His cock involuntarily twitched in his pants, but all he could think about was devouring your pussy.

Faintly, Steve hummed in agreement as he unzipped his pants.

Javier dropped down to his knees, careful not to touch you so that it would come as a surprise when he finally did. It took a great deal of restraint, but once he was settled between your bound parted legs, he reeled forward and covered your pussy with his mouth, immediately sucking at you hard. You let out a loud scream and arched your back at the sensation.

“That’s it,” Carrillo cooed as he watched Javier lick at your folds. 

Without your sight, every move was a surprise, and it only turned you on more. Feeling the tongue against your clit drove you wild, and your moans quickly grew louder and louder. Suddenly, you felt another pair of hands on your breasts, and you cried out when your mind caught up to you and you realized all three men were touching you now. 

Not knowing who was where added to the thrill for you. Yet, you had a feeling that it was Javier who was currently between your legs, licking and sucking at you with abandon. The two pairs of hands that caressed your breasts kneaded you harder, and one hand trailed up your body to push two fingers into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the digits, running your tongue up and down and sucking at the tip without hesitation. The groan the hand’s owner let out went right to your core.

Javier groaned into you, feeling the pulse of need. He grabbed your thighs and picked up his pace with his tongue, rolling it up and down your folds before pushing it into your entrance a few times. His cock ached with need as he tasted you, but he wanted to make you fall apart first. And soon, once his tongue hit your clit again, Javier got what he wanted.

You came without warning, your legs shaking on either side of Javier’s face as you screamed loudly around the finger in your mouth. In the darkness of your blindfold, you saw stars as Javier didn’t relent, working you through your orgasm until a second one hit before you even came down from the first.

Javier broke away with a loud breath, taking in fresh air for the first time. He sat back and admired his handiwork as your pussy glistened before him. He murmured your name as his hand caressed your cunt, running his fingers up and down a few times before he pushed two inside of you.

“That’s it,” he purred as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, making you moan again.

But, just as he was about to pick up his pace, Carrillo grabbed his wrist and forced him out of you, causing both you and Javier to let out sounds of protest. Carrillo looked at Javier with a sharp expression as he shook his head. The message was loud and clear without the words needed: don’t hog her.

Carrillo chose not to speak on purpose, he wanted to keep you guessing who was where, and he wanted every action to surprise you. Without your sight or ability to move, he accomplished just that. 

You whimpered when you felt one pair of hands break off of your breast, but immediately screamed when you felt a hand slap your pussy. You jolted in your restraints as the hand slapped your pussy again and you cried out in pleasure.

Steve watched as Carrillo slapped your pussy again, and he couldn’t ignore his down needs. So, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed his pants down to his ankles, freeing his cock. He stroked it a few times before he gently slapped your cheek with it in a silent order for you to open your mouth. You complied, parting your lips for whoever was next to you, and Steve couldn’t help but praise you.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he slipped his cock past your lips and into your mouth. He let out a low growl as your warmth engulfed him, and you played with his cock with your tongue. Fuck, you were good at this, he thought. 

While your mouth was busy with Steve, Carrillo and Javier turned their attention to between your legs. Both men ran their fingers along your already spent cunt, causing you to gasp around Steve’s cock. But, their next action took you even more off guard.

You felt two fingers enter your pussy, easily since you were already so turned on and wet from cumming twice. You moaned around Steve’s cock as you felt the thick fingers fill you up, and your mouth dropped open when they crooked and hit that sweet spot inside you. As those fingers continued to massage the inside of you, you felt another finger poke at your other hole, making you gasp.

Slowly, carefully, the finger entered you, and you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. You felt a hand on your breast, squeezing and caressing your sensitive skin while the other fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. Tears filled your eyes as you felt a second finger enter your backside, stretching you out even more. 

All three men watched with awe as you took two fingers in each hole while Steve’s cock stayed in your mouth. You looked so beautiful like this, completely helpless for whatever the men wanted, and it only made them want you more. Steve couldn’t stop himself, and he grabbed your head and thrust his cock deeper down your throat as his emotions overwhelmed him.

Javier and Carrillo watched with burning gazes as Steve fucked your face, and in that moment neither of them could wait any longer. They glanced at each other and nodded, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Slowly, they each pulled their fingers out of you, and they knew you let out a whine around Steve’s cock.

The two men quickly stripped themselves, holding their cocks in their hands and reading themselves for you. It took a little maneuvering, but Jaiver and Carrillo found a way to enter you at the same time. Both of them lifted your hips slightly to expose your body more to them and in doing so gave them the perfect angle to fuck you.

One entered you right after the other, filling you to the brim. You gasped around Steve’s cock as you felt both your holes being filled simultaneously. Tears soaked the bandana as the other two cocks filled you, and you had no idea who took you where. Steve froze for a moment, lost in awe as he watched the other two fill you, and he pulled out of you for a moment to let the screams flow freely.

You gasped for a moment, and it took a second for you to realize that your mouth was free. But when the two cocks pushed deeper inside of you, you let out a loud scream that echoed in Carrillo’s office. Pain mixed with pleasure as you had never felt more filed, and you knew you were safe when you felt hands caressed and roamed all over your body, and you heard soft words of encouragement from all three of them, though you weren't sure which direction each voice came from.

“You’re doing so well, querida.”

“That’s it, just a little bit more.”

“Such a good girl. So fuckin’ pretty.”

Just when you thought you couldn’t feel any more full, Steve thrust his cock back into your mouth, pushing it deeper down your throat and almost making you gag. You felt like a ragdoll as the three of them all started to rock their cocks in and out of you, all at different rhythms and speeds. Never in your life had you felt so helpless, and never if your life had you been more turned on.

Moans and groans filled the room as Steve, Javier and Carrillo all fucked you at the same time. It almost turned into a competition on who could cum first, and who could fill you up the most. They all let out growls as they eyed each other before turning their attention back to you. Losing themselves in the moment, all three men fucked you harder and faster, all chasing their own climaxes.

And the way all three growled went a pulse of need through your entire body, making you clench around all of them.

Steve came first, letting out a loud groan that gave him away to you as he filled your mouth. “Fuck!” he grunted as he watched as you swallowed as much as you could. His hips stuttered as he grabbed your head and yanked you against his hips. You made an obscene noise around his cock as you gasped, but you couldn’t do anything to stop him. Not that you wanted to.

When he was spent, Steve pulled out of you, leaving a trail of spit and seed as the only thing to still connect you both. He watched as your mouth dropped open, taking in a deep breath of air, and his cum splattered all across your lips. You looked a mess, but fuck you looked gorgeous. Steve gently cradled your head, “Good job, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Carrillo watched with a grin, but when you clenched around him, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. He picked up his pace and he growled a mix of curses and praises. His hips slapped against your body as he lost control and after just a few more thrusts, he came hard deep inside you. You gasped as you felt him fill you up, and you moaned as a shiver ran up your spine.

Javier rocked into you even harder, determined to make you cum along with him. He felt your inner muscles clench around him, gripping his cock hard. He reached for your clit, rubbing it with just the right amount of pressure when he felt like he wasn’t going to last any longer.

It didn’t take long for Javier to get what he wanted, and you screamed as your third orgasm crashed into you. Javier kept up his pace as his own followed right behind, his groans drowned out by your cries of pleasure. He kept his pace up and long as he could until he buried his cock fully inside you with one final grunt.

All three men stayed still for a moment, catching their breaths. Carrillo and Javier stayed buried inside you, neither wanting to leave you just yet. But, Carrillo could tell you were getting sore at this angle, and he tapped Javier, indicating what you needed. Slowly, reluctantly, they both pulled out of you, causing you to gasp and whimper.

“It’s alright, querida,” Carrillo’s soothing voice comforted you.

“Are you alright?” Javier asked.

“Never fucking better,” you replied with a soft smirk once you caught your breath. You let out another sharp exhale when you felt hands all over your body once more.

“Ok, I’ll admit,” Steve interjected, “That was fucking hot… And just what I needed.”

Javier nodded in agreement as he eyes trailed up and down your figure, “You were amazing, cariño,” he purred. 

“Good,” Carrillo’s tone dropped, “Because we aren’t finished here yet…” 

[nwheregirl]

NSFW JANITOR.AI NARCOS MÉXICO CHARACTERS MADE BY ME. (NFSW, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, 18+ ONLY, SPANISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE I’M A STUDENT 🫶)

WARNING: not romanticising the real people, the bots are about the fictional characters played by these amazing actors.

[paperhatsandpaperboats]

I don't know what it is about her but I am convinced Josie is going to end up being a double agent and fucking over the team in the final hour

[somedaylazysomeday]

Matter of Perspective - Part Four

Carrillo doesn't let your late night at the office interrupt your dinner plans.

Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors, do not interact.

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: Mentions of danger, minor awkwardness, oral sex (fem receiving), reader is a NERD, and sexual content.

Previous | Masterlist

---

It was nearly nine when you finished with the open files on your desk. 

Okay, ‘finished’ was a bit optimistic. You had managed to tame the pile down to something that was possible to achieve during the following work day. It was a start, and you felt much more relaxed as you shut off the small desk lamp, gathered your belongings, and started toward the door. 

The bus system in Bogotá wasn’t bad, all things considered. It was even fairly safe. Ironically, Pablo Escobar himself was part of the reason. He had made some changes to the system as part of his effort to win over the working class, and it had worked. Buses ran regularly, charged a standard minimum fare, and were well-lit with a policy of no harassment. 

Of course, coming from the DEA and going to DEA housing wasn’t safe since there was a bounty on every DEA agent’s head, but if you walked a few blocks from headquarters and then a few more to your apartment, it was manageable. 

Normally, you caught a ride with some coworkers who lived in a nearby neighborhood, but they had left on time and you had waved off their offers to come back later for you. You could always call a cab… though honestly, that would probably be more expensive and just as dangerous. 

Your brain itched as you stepped into the lobby of the building, and you were already turning when the figure to your left spoke. “Finally finished?” 

The shriek you let out echoed in the lobby, prolonging your embarrassment as you stared at Carrillo’s chest. He was chuckling, you could hear it, but you still wished you could melt into the floor. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying (and failing) to act like you hadn’t just been scared out of your wits. 

“I wanted to make sure you left the building before midnight,” Carrillo told you, still smirking. “And to see if I could take you home.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you told him, though you couldn’t help but be happy about the chance to spend more time together. 

“How else would you get home?” he asked, and there was a note in his tone that reminded you why Carrillo had been brought back to Colombia when things were at their bleakest. Your attention snapped to his face and found him giving you a stern look. “If I find out you’ve been riding the bus, cariña…”

“I haven’t,” you assured him, feeling defensive when he cast you a doubtful look. “I haven’t! I mean, I was going to, but I didn’t.” 

“Is that supposed to be better?” Carrillo asked. 

“I was going to be careful.” 

“We both know that you're not the one I was worried about.” He sighed, motioning you to the door. “Let’s get you home.” 

Being in Carrillo’s car was an utterly new experience. It wasn’t anything special, but it was in good shape and ruthlessly clean. He had graciously not pointed out that you knew which was his without being told - how could you help that you had been in the parking lot when he drove in to work one day? - and you hadn’t mentioned it, either. 

The radio was turned to a local station, playing quietly in the background. It was almost drowned out entirely by the rush of air whipping past the open windows, and occasional street lights tossed rectangles of buttery light over the interior of the car. You did your best not to stare at Carrillo, but the way that light illuminated the strength of his jaw and the curve of his neck? It was nothing short of hypnotic. 

It was a quiet evening, weather mild. The streets looked almost peaceful as they eased past you in the night. It was difficult to believe the bloodshed and violence they had seen. Perhaps it was good that the short drive took place with silence between you and Carrillo. You needed the chance to decompress and he didn’t seem bothered by the lack of conversation. 

You used all of your willpower to hold back a smart comment when you noted that Carrillo hadn’t needed directions from you to arrive at your apartment building. 

“Thank you for driving me. I really appreciate it.” You were out of the car before you had managed to gather enough courage to ask, “Do you want to come inside?” 

The confused look he gave you made your skin crawl with dismay… until he turned off the car and got out. “I thought that was the plan? For us to have dinner together?”

“Oh, I- yeah…” You shifted uncomfortably. “I really don’t keep much around the apartment. Unless you want a sandwich? Or maybe a granola bar or some ice cream? Or I have these chips that taste like-”

As you had been rambling through the contents of your pantry, Carrillo had gone to his trunk and retrieved a large bag. “I would not ask you to cook for me. I offered, remember?”

“But… I had to work late…” It seemed like an incredibly weak excuse, even more so since Carrillo was standing in front of you with a bag that smelled like it held something delicious. 

“And now you are done,” he said, nodding toward your front door. “If you don’t mind?” 

You scrambled to open the door, holding it so Carrillo could step through before you closed it and turned on a light. Then you mildly panicked because your apartment was messier than you liked and the man you had just decided to have a relationship with was seeing it. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized, hurrying into your small kitchen. “Let me just move some of this stuff out of the way…” 

“I’ll do it,” he offered. “Then I’ll heat this up. You go change… unless you are already comfortable?”

You smiled despite yourself at the discomfort in Carrillo’s expression as he rethought what he had just said. He couldn’t cast too many aspersions on your clothes - he wasn’t in uniform, but a white tee shirt and dark green cargo pants hardly seemed like lounge wear. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told him eventually, enjoying your taste of revenge after he had startled you so badly earlier. 

Carrillo nodded and offered you a small smile. He had already found a deep cooking pot and was emptying one of the containers into it. The sheer domesticity of it made your chest tight as you ducked into your bedroom. 

Normally, you liked to shower after a day at the office - especially a long day - but you were willing to put aside your routine in favor of spending more time with Carrillo. 

Instead, you changed into a pair of soft shorts and a tee shirt, washed your face, and brushed your teeth. You gave yourself a skeptical look in the mirror as you spat out a mouthful of toothpaste. It made no sense to brush your teeth before you ate a meal, but it made you feel less self-conscious, so you considered it worthwhile. 

By the time you came back out of your room, you felt far more human than you had after such a long day. Your timing seemed perfect, too: Carrillo was just setting two bowls on your tiny kitchen table. 

“It smells wonderful,” you told him. “Thank you for this.” 

The coronel was about to grab a plate of rounded pastries when you reached to give him a kiss on the cheek. Before you could pull away, he had lifted his hand, locking you in place with nothing more than a brush of fingertips over the softness of your jaw. The kiss he returned was decidedly not on your cheek, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. 

Instead, you eased into Carrillo’s embrace, winding your arms around him until he had to make a clear effort to extricate himself. “You taste minty.” 

You smiled. “Thanks. I hope that won’t interfere with what we’re eating. I’m starving!” 

“We’re having ajiaco,” Carrillo told you, pulling you to the table and holding your chair steady as you sat. “It’s popular around here.”

The name was familiar - you had seen it on a few menus at local restaurants you had visited. That was the extent of your knowledge, but it looked fairly simple when you swiped your spoon through it. Chicken broth, potato, shredded chicken, and some herbs, along with half of an ear of corn. 

You subtly watched Carrillo, copying him as he added capers and what looked like heavy cream to his bowl. Garlic danced across your tongue when you took your first bite, followed with something that tasted almost like oregano. The capers were an interesting touch, and the cream brought out the potatoes’ subtle flavor. 

“You made this?” you asked. 

Carrillo smiled, and you were glad he wasn’t offended by the surprise in your tone. “Sí. My mother taught me. She would be glad to know her lessons were worth it.”

“Incredibly,” you agreed, taking another bite. “What’s on that plate?” 

He pulled it between your bowls, putting it in easy reach for both of you. “Normally, ajiaco is served with rice, but I didn’t know how long you would be in the office. There is a special place in hell for those who serve mushy rice.” 

Carrillo looked so serious as he delivered that wisdom that you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I got some arepas instead,” he finished. “These are arepas de queso.”

You eagerly took one when he pushed the plate toward you. Even after so much time spent in Colombia, you had never met an arepa you didn’t like. These were no exception, deep-fried and filled with a mild but flavorful cheese. 

“You’re spoiling me, Horacio,” you told him, struggling not to speak with food in your mouth. 

“Consider it one of the many ways I will make up for treating you so badly before.” 

You set down your spoon, letting it clatter against the side of the bowl to draw his attention. “I already told you that you have nothing to apologize for, nothing to make up for. You’ve been put in a position where you need to be defensive and suspicious of people to survive. So, please, don’t feel like you owe me anything.” 

“Perhaps it is a convenient excuse to show that I care,” he suggested, capturing your hand so he could press a kiss against the back of your knuckles. 

“That’s entirely justified, then.” Your sense of satisfaction only increased as you fished the corncob out of your soup and took a deliciously messy bite. 

Companionable silence reigned as you both ate. When you eventually leaned back with a satisfied sigh, you asked, “What do you think the odds are that Peña will be able to keep his mouth shut about us?” 

“Reasonably good, I would guess,” Carrillo replied with a shrug. 

“Really?” you asked, brows furrowing at him. “You must have a higher opinion of his abilities than I do.”

“When it is a matter of safety or security, Peña is a very serious man.” 

The idea of it made you sober, losing some of the quiet joy brought on by spending time with Carrillo. The food sat more heavily in your stomach. Pablo Escobar not only knew who Horacio Carrillo was, but feared him. And what Escobar feared, he did his best to kill.

“I don’t like the idea of Escobar hunting you,” you told Carrillo honestly. 

It wasn’t a particularly profound statement, but Carrillo nodded gravely. “I understand, cariña. I feel the same way when I think of you.” 

“He doesn’t know who I am,” you argued. “That’s hardly the same thing.” 

“Escobar may not know who you are now,” Carrillo countered, voice gentle. “But if he finds out that I care for you, you will be in just as much danger as me. Maybe more.” 

“I knew that was a risk when I came to Colombia.” You smiled at him, covering his hand with your own. “But let’s just agree to keep things quiet between us. Then we’ll never have to worry about it.” 

That wasn’t realistic, not remotely feasible, but Carrillo just returned your smile. Sometimes, a platitude and an unrealistic estimation of danger was what you needed to continue living your life. Besides, if you had to choose between the two, you would still want to be with Carrillo. You were in danger either way, and he made you happy. 

You caught a sudden glimpse of the future, your mind kicking out a theory of the way things would work out: these issues weren’t going away, and you wouldn’t be able to pretend for long that they weren’t important. Eventually, you would need to face them head-on and figure out a way to deal with the risks, or you would part ways. 

But neither of those needed to happen today. 

Pushing away your own tendency to fixate on what could go wrong, you leaned toward Carrillo, hoping he would mirror you. He did, and the resulting kiss was everything you wanted: warmth, tenderness, and an edge of heat that took your breath away. 

“Did you know,” you murmured between brushes of your lips against his, “that I have a bedroom?” 

“A bedroom?” Carrillo asked, eyes giving a playful sparkle. “I had no idea. I may not believe you. I think you’ll need to show me.” 

“I can do that,” you agreed, giving a final, savoring kiss before you stood. Carrillo’s fingers laced through yours as you pulled him eagerly toward your bedroom. 

You didn’t bother with the lights, but you couldn’t prevent yourself from stealing another kiss… And pulling off his shirt since you were already stopped. While you were at it, you remembered something you hadn’t gotten to do last time, so you gave Carrillo’s ass a healthy squeeze. He startled a bit at the contact, but deepened the kiss with a helpless groan. 

His revenge came swift and silent as one large hand rose to cup your breast, thumb stroking over the exact place where your nipple was tightening for him. Your back arched automatically, pushing further into his touch. 

Carrillo urged your arms upward and took your tee shirt off with a smooth motion. Since you hadn’t bothered with a bra, you were exposed from the waist up. His hands seemed to be everywhere, matched by his mouth as he took advantage of the skin he had bared. You staggered back a step at a time, Carrillo shadowing your every move until you realized he was herding you toward the bed. 

Somewhere along the way, you lost the rest of your clothes and he lost his. He was just as beautiful as you remembered - tan skin dusted with dark hair and marked with occasional scars. Muscles shifted under his skin as he moved, but nothing showy or intimidating. Carrillo was muscular as a side effect of being a healthy and active person, not because he spent precious hours in the gym. He was already hard, glistening at the tip and bobbing slightly with every step.

When you finally collapsed onto the soft surface, Carrillo didn’t follow you. Instead, he stood at the edge of the bed, looming over you. You leaned up, resting back on your elbows as you tilted your head at him. “Horacio? What are- Ah!”

In a single, smooth motion, the coronel had lowered himself to his knees and pulled you to the edge of the bed. Your legs had parted automatically around him and you found him watching you over the peaks and valleys of your body. His eyes were dark and hungry, his face hovering only inches above where you throbbed for him.

“Do you want this, querida?” Carrillo asked. His voice was as anticipatory as his expression, but he didn’t move. “Is this something you object to?”

You had already started frantically nodding in answer to his first question by the time the second made it through the fog of arousal clouding your mind. Carrillo drew his hands away and sat back, pausing only when you made a dismayed sound. “Horacio, please. Yes, I want this. No, I don’t object to it. And I think I’m going to explode if you don’t touch me soon.”

The slow, self-satisfied curl of his lips made you fill with warmth in several places, but most notably inside your ribcage and in your core. And the fact that the smirk stayed even as he parted your thighs and pressed himself slowly between them?

Delicious. 

That was the only word in your mind as Carrillo started lowering his head to you, then even that disappeared in the blast of sensation. His tongue trailed upward, exploring you from the bottom of your slit to the top of it, dipping shallowly into your core as if he was hinting at things to come. 

“Fuck, cariña,” he growled. He hadn’t pulled very far away from you, and the rumbled of his voice buzzed pleasantly through you. “Keep making those noises for me.” 

Ridiculously, it was only then that you realized the pleasure was pushing a variety of noises from your lips. Since he clearly wasn’t bothered by them, you let them pour from you. His lips made you moan, his tongue made you plead, and the feeling of his stubble against your most sensitive places made you writhe. And when he applied gentle suction against your clit, your mouth fell open in a silent gasp that strained the hinges of your jaw. 

You sat up with a groan that sounded alarmingly close to a whine, pushing him away. 

“What is wrong?” he asked, gaze searching your face for clues in the shadowed twilight of the room. 

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” you told him. The bluntness of it made you feel like you should be embarrassed, but who had the time? You were sitting in front of him, folds swollen and shining with a combination of your wetness and his. 

Carrillo lifted his face further, and your core clenched when you saw that the shine across his lips trailed down to his chin. “I am willing to risk it.”

“No,” you refused, and he instantly stilled. “I want you inside of me. Please… I want you so badly…”

He didn’t move, not until you leaned back and spread your thighs a little further apart. Whether it was your request or the sight of what he had done to you, Carrillo seemed spurred into action. He had wiped his mouth and crawled onto the mattress before you could properly recognize that he was moving, but you eagerly kissed him the moment he was in range. The taste of you was strong in his mouth, but it was only another part of kissing him. 

Carrillo held himself on his hands above you, eyes roaming hungrily over your body. Yours were doing the same thing to him, so it was thrilling to know that he was just as entranced by you as you were by him. 

“Hey,” you said, using your best sultry bedroom voice. “Wanna see a magic trick?” 

He gave you an inscrutable look for longer than was really comfortable, but eventually said, “Have I forgotten to speak English? Or did you just offer to show me a magic trick while we’re in your bed together?”

“Tah dah,” you finished weakly, holding up the condom.

“I just watched you pull that out from under your pillow,” Carrillo told you, though you could see how hard he was fighting a smile. 

���Why would I keep condoms under my pillow?” you countered. “That doesn’t make sense.” 

Wisely, Carrillo didn’t respond to that except by taking the condom in exchange for another kiss. In moments, his practiced motions had concluded and he was braced over you again. The tip of him was lined up with your entrance and you were nearly trembling with anticipation as he pressed slowly into you. 

He couldn’t have had much more than his head inside of you when he lowered himself carefully, capturing your lips as you moaned your frustration. That moan turned abruptly into a shout as he speared into you, and Carrillo swallowed the sound directly from your mouth. 

When he pulled back, he looked almost as dazed as you felt. “You’re so perfect for me, querida. So tight for me, and sweeter than anything.” 

Without the incentive of his lips against yours, your head tipped back against the sheets. “Horacio, I- need you to move. You feel so good… Need more. I-”

Carrillo took your request to heart, picking up a pounding rhythm that had you bouncing with the force of his thrusts. The thickness of him inside of you was both a shock and a joy to your nerves. You felt like he was splitting you open, but in a way that made your lungs burn and your toes curl. 

Your hands clutched at his back, massaging the bunched muscles of his shoulders as he held himself steady over you. Then your touch drifted downward, appreciating the way those muscles shifted and moved more rapidly as you got closer to his hips. With that pace, you were surprised he wasn’t exhausted already. 

Granted, all of those thoughts and sensations seemed distant, hidden behind the surge of sensation that exploded through you every time he plunged into your body once more. Your breathing was stuttering, your fingers spasming against the taut skin of Carrillo’s back. 

“Are you close?” he asked. The fact that his hoarse voice in your ear was nearly enough to push you over the edge made you nod, the motion frantic. “Touch yourself for me, cariña. Need to feel you around me.”

“Horacio,” you stammered, half protesting even as your fingers snaked between his body and yours. The very millisecond your fingertips pressed against your clit, you were gone. Your muscles contracted, clenching around Carrillo’s length inside of you, your fingers pressing ever harder as your brain hijacked your autonomy to chase deeper pleasure than you thought you could stand. 

Unsurprisingly, your orgasm pushed Carrillo over the edge. His hips snapped against yours, hard enough that it would have been painful if it weren’t for the endorphins currently flooding your system. You could feel him spasming inside of you as he spilled into the condom and your hips tilted automatically, pulling a helpless sound of pleasure from him.

You would never tell him so, but you were pretty sure that sound extended your orgasm a little longer than it would have lasted otherwise. 

When both of you were finally slack in the aftermath of your pleasure, Carrillo withdrew himself from you and collapsed nearby. You couldn’t help but remember the way he had sought out contact after your last time together, and you searched along the sheets until you found his hand. His fingers intertwined eagerly with yours. 

Carrillo held your hand until he decided to wriggle his way closer, stopping only when you could curl around each other without any space between you.

---

Author's Note - Yet another fic I may continue someday. If I do, you'll find a link at the top of this post. Or, if you prefer AO3, you can find me there under username InkSplots.

Thanks for reading!

[the-hinky-panda]

Off Grid: Part I (Horacio Carrillo x Reader)

Title: Off Gride

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Horcaio Carrillo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Horacio survives the ambush and is sent to a CIA safe house to recover. You, a homesteader and survivalist, are his handler until he's healed. But when you both realize that you're just property, you start planning on how to slip out of your government cage and start your own lives.

“Loneliness is a mirror, and recognizes itself.” - Jodi Picoult

You’re nine and running through the bayous of Beauregaro Island, a slip of land off the coast of Grand Isle, Louisiana. You and your father had been living in an abandoned shack on stilts. No electricity, no running water, no way for people to find you. You had been living off the swamp land for a little over a week when your father caught sight of lights out on the bayou. 

“Kontinye, fi!” her father hisses over his shoulder. 

Keep up, girl. And you try, honest to God, you try. But you haven’t eaten a solid meal in three days and your legs won’t work the way you need them to right now. You’re tired, and sluggish. When your father looks behind him again, you can see the resignation in his eyes. It will be many years after that night before you realize that’s what it was. He picks you up under your armpits and tucks you into a hollowed out tree trunk. 

“Rete.” 

Stay. 

So you do. You stay as the hounds run past the tree, tracking your father’s scent and not yours. The men with shotguns and flashlights pass next. Then comes a terrible silence: no splashing through the water, or hounds howling, or men shouting. It makes the shotgun blast all the more deafening and world changing when it explodes through the quiet. You clamber out of your hiding place and run towards the flashlights now. Your father is the only concern you have now. The flashlights that had been bobbing in the dark, are now focused on a body that is face down in the black bayou water. 

“Papa!” 

Your shout alerts the men to your presence but you don’t care at this point. Your father, your protector, your best friend is gone. You’re alone and you don’t want to be. If these men are going to take your father away from you, then you’re going to go with him. You splash your way past them and reach for your father’s bloodsoaked shirt but just as your fingers brush the soft flannel fabric, someone pulls you back. 

“Easy, Piti,” a deep man’s voice says. 

But grief and fear turn you into a rabid animal, kicking, screaming, scratching. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest so all your blows are glancing and weak. 

“Stechner, what do we do with the kid?” 

You find yourself being handed off to another man with a beard. He recoils from holding you, your filthy clothes, muddy shoes, and bared teeth. Instead, you’re dropped back down into the ankle deep water and the new man grabs ahold of your arm. 

“I’ll deal with her.” 

He starts marching you off, away from your father. “You killed my papa! And now you’re going to leave him there? The gators-” 

“That’s the idea, sweetheart. Right-wing militia man gets turned around the swamp and eaten by an alligator. Daughter rescued after surviving days on her own in the bayou. How’s that sound?” 

You stare up at him, every fiber in your being filled with hate. “Like bullshit.” 

“Oooh, got a mouth on you.” He gives a short nod. “I may be able to work with that, kid.” 

Exhaustion quickly overtakes you as you struggle to keep up with long strides. You focus instead on the rhythmic footfalls in the squelching mud. Anything but the uncertainty and loss that has made a hole so large in your heart, you’re going to have it for the rest of your life. 

Thunk. 

Thunk. 

Thunk. 

***

Thunk. 

Your eyes open and you’re staring at the rough hewn beams of the small cabin in Vermont. 

Thunk.

You had fallen asleep on the couch reading Jane Eyre. 

Thunk. 

Sitting up, you look around the small living space for the noise that’s roused you from your nap. You’ve had a house guest for the last month but now that he's moving around, new noises have invaded your small homestead and you’re trying to learn what all the new noises mean. 

Thunk. 

You finally recognize the sound you’re hearing and it launches you off the couch. You shove your feet into the rubber boots that had been left by the door and notice your charge’s boots are missing. “No, no, no…” 

You take off down the handful of stairs off the front porch and jog out to the woodpile. The woodpile that has grown quite a bit since yesterday. How long has he been out here? You see him, white t-shirt soaked with sweat as he raises the ax to split another log. Seeing the bulge of his biceps as he prepares to bring the ax down belies the fact that out of the month of his stay here, three of those weeks had been bedbound. 

“Colonel Carrillo!” 

He brings the ax down with one forceful blow before leaving the blade stuck in the old tree stump and facing you. “¿Si, Enfermera?” 

Nurse. That’s been his nickname for her since his arrival. He doesn’t realize you’re his handler, protector. Nursing him back to health after a cartel ambush in Medellín is only a small part of your job with him. “You’re not cleared for-”

He scoffs and wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shoulder. “It’s cold at night here.” 

You step in front of him and grab the ax handle. “I’m sorry it’s not as balmy as it is in Medellín, but you should not be out here doing this.” 

He shrugs, a smirk crossing his features. “I seem just fine.” 

Yeah, that’s the current problem you’ve been having. He’s twice your age, just back from death’s door, and the handsomest man the CIA have ever dropped on your doorstep to shelter. And there have been quite a few over the last ten years. None of them have caused you to second guess your life and goals. You’ve been loaner since the night your father was shot down by a joint task force of the ATF and CIA. But this man, the one standing in front of you in a shirt clinging to him like it’s two sizes too small, arrogant and handsome, he’s causing you to wonder if maybe there’s more to life than being the US government’s half-way house. 

“Seeming and being are two different things.” You yank the ax out of the tree stump with a sharp jerk. “My boss is going to have my ass if you suffer a setback now.” 

“Are you trying to get me out as soon as possible, Enfermera?” 

“The sooner, the better, Colonel.”  

Especially for you. 

[bullet-prooflove]

14. You’re way too young to be broken

I’m in my Horacio Carrillo feels for this one.

You're young, far too young to have had your life blown apart by the cartels but it's happened. He wishes it hadn't, he wishes that your brother hadn't died, that you hadn't come to Columbia, that you didn't know the stench of death and the taste of cocaine but you do and he can't change it.

Ironically the things that he wishes for are the things that have brought you into his life and into his bed. He can't imagine a world where the two of you hadn't met, he would never admit it but he believes that fate brought the two of you together. Two broken souls finding each other at just the right time.

His ex wife read novels based on this kind of thing.

He lies on his side in your bed, thr sheets draped over his hips and he allows his fingertips to trail over the scars that are etched into your skin.

Shrapnel from a car bomb right here in his city. He remembers the night he heard the call go up, the way it felt like his heart stopped beating in his chest when he heard your address. You had been lucky, talking to one of your neighbours when another car had bumped yours. You'd escaped the blast but not the fallout.

"You're being morose again." You murmur as you roll onto your back, your hair falling across the pillow as you stare up at them with those knowing eyes of yours.

"Maybe." He concedes as his thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek. He leans in close, his lips brushing over yours as the first blush of the morning creeps from your blinds. "But I have you in bed and there are much more important things I'd like to focus on."

[axkirak]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n @arcticversed (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Synopsis : Walt did everything he could to eliminate drug traffickers without realizing that ultimately, his actions were causing him to lose you forever.

AN: There're angst everywhere Lol. Get ready to be hurt

------------------------------------------------------------ 

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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[6]ᅳ 𝐋𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐥 ✟

The loud 'Bang' jolted you back to reality, back to the awareness of what you were and what this man was. He might be charming, he might be funny, he might be romantic, but Amado Carrillo Fuentes is a drug lord. He is your target, America's target, Mexico's target, and and the target of other drug trafficking gangs whose aim is to see him dead.

They know Amado is hiding here too. And they didn't want him to come back to Mexico.

Armed groups in tourist outfits reveal themselves amidst the growing chaos. They all aim straight for Amado, but they don't care about other lives.  Innocent people unintentionally caught in the crossfire are ruthlessly eliminated,  bodies scattered on the streets like fallen leaves.

The music is drowned out by the gunfire, laughter turns into screams, and in the blink of an eye, tranquility turns into hell on earth.

You're stiff; you should do something to stop it. You think you could if you had a gun with you, but the bad thing is you didn't bring one because you foolishly thought a regular musician shouldn't have a gun to be suspected by Amado, and you were confident you could handle everything well without weapons.

And you're wrong. It's your fault.

Amado yanked you up, dragging you along as he turned back to shoot at the killers chasing him from a distance. For a split second, you imagine pushing him away and escaping alone. Because these people only cared about getting Amado's life, not yours. His death might be a good thing; at least one of the drug lords would be gone. The crazy mission, and everything could finally end.

You should let him die. It would be much easier if Amado chose the same. But this man is now trying to protect you, even though he's been in danger. Yet, those big hands refuse to let go of yours, not even for a second.

You grit your teeth, eyes staring intensely at his hand holding yours firmly. No matter how much you want to reject, somehow you are a part of this fate. Throughout the time that has passed, you have lost and failed to save everyone. let many people die in front of you without being able to do anything. And you can't bear to feel guilty from failure any more, at least not for this time.

In this moment of imminent death,The CIA Agent finally makes the decision that you can't let Amado die.

All of this is for the mission. That's what you try to insist to yourself. In the moment when one of the assassins aims at Amado without him noticing, in the moment when you decide to push him out of the bullet's range, in the moment when you get shot by that bullet yourself.

The chaos still swirls around you, things flashing before your eyes too fast to make out what they are. Everything seems like mere illusions to you. There's nothing clear except the searing pain akin to flames burning inside your abdomen. You slide down onto the pavement, hands clutching your blood-soaked abdomen tightly, the sound of yelling ringing in your ears. It's Amado's voice, but you can't make out what he's saying. All you can do is raise your head to look at him, seeing the shock reflected in those wide-open eyes and your blood smeared on his face.

What went wrong? Your final suspicion is devoid of any clear answers.

Was it an unexpected reaction to the situation? Or the foolish intention to take the bullet instead of the man who deserved to die?

There's nothing funny about it at all. Yet, you let out a light chuckle, mocking yourself, realizing that this might be the end for you—shot foolishly on the roadside, another failure. But at least, there will be no more loss to bear except for your own life.

Perhaps it's a fitting end for someone like you.

You took another glance at Amado, the smile still lingering on your face until unconsciousness envelops every part of your body and fades away in the blink of an eye.

------------------------------------------------------------ 

Walt never knew when to stop. That was always the problem.

Like a relentless machine, he never took a break, working tirelessly until either the energy ran out or the machinery broke into pieces. Even though he knew it was slowly destroying himself, he chose to keep going until he got what he wanted, or died trying, or worse — had to get his hands dirty and kill someone to get what he wanted.

The hands of the DEA agent were covered in bruises and blood, the throbbing pain clinging to every bone forcing him to slightly adjust his grip.He wiped off someone else's blood onto a dirty handkerchief lying on the floor before looked up at the young man tied tightly to the chair.His face and bare body bore only the traces of severe abuse inflicted by his own hands. 

"Alex Aragón," Walt slowly uttered the name, studying the almost unconscious response from the boy, who seemed barely aware of his surroundings. 

He's still so young, looked like he had just emerged from adolescence not long ago. the pampered, harmless rich kid unless you knew that this guy wwasone of the high-ranking members of the Arellano drug cartel,who just apprehended three days ago.

"If you want to see your parents again, you better tell me right now where Ramón Arellano Félix, your buddy, is and what he's planning," Walt held the cigarette in his mouth before turning his gaze to Diego and the two Mexican cops standing solemnly in the same room. "My Mexican friends here aren't as friendly as I am, and I won't hesitate to hand you over to them if you don't talk to me."

"But...but I'm American!" the young man rushed to say. "I was born in America, I have American citizenship. You can't do this to an American! If anyone finds out, you'll be in serious trouble!"

"So what? Do you think America cares about a bunch of drug dealers like you?"

He lied. When it came to America's image in the eyes of the world, those at the top of politics did care.

But America was also adept at covering up its own dirty scandals.

And if America was good at covering up scandals, Mexico was even better at making them. So, Walt decided to leave the task of tormenting duties to the Mexican police, as he had said earlier.

Walt walked out of the interrogation room to smoke a cigarette, listening to the echoing screams echo with an expression of indifference, devoid of emotions. It was just another ordinary day in his line of work. There is nothing to feel bad about when dealing with someone who deserves to die.

Not long after, Walt remembered that he had only taken a few puffs of smoke when the heavy metal door of the interrogation room was suddenly opened. He saw Diego stepping out with a strangely alert demeanor.

Walt furrowed his brows, quickly flicking away the cigarette that wasn't finished. He didn't feel too good hearing what Diego said, "That bastard finally talked, but it wasn't about Ramón."

"And what did he say?"

Diego hesitated, feeling conflicted. He wasn't sure if he should directly discuss this with Walt. But in the end, he decided to speak up.

"He mentioned an assassination against Amado Carrillo Fuentes."

------------------------------------------------------------ 

The two junior officers in Policía Ciudad de México(The Mexico City Police) were taken aback when an American DEA agent suddenly burst into the room with a look as if he wanted to physically harm someone. Julio, who was seated at his regular desk, looked up for a moment. His expression didn't change much upon seeing Walt. The boss exhaled deeply before waving his hand to dismiss the other officers, leaving just the two of them in the room.

"Ramón Arellano sent assassins to kill Amado on Aruba Island. We need to hurry to help Y/N, she's in danger," the DEA agent exclaimed.

"I already know about it," Julio responded with an unchanged expression. "Netherlands embassy just reported about a Mexican drug cartel incident in the tourist area of the island. The bodies were sent back to Mexico this morning."

Walt sighed lightly, both surprised and irritated by the calmness of his superior. "So, what now? You know about this, yet you're not going to do anything?"

"Calm down. We've checked everything. We didn't find any bodies matching Amado's or Y/N's description. It's highly possible they're still alive."

"Then we need to hurry and help her. We don't know if there are still Arellano's men left on the island. This mission is too risky for Y/N. We need to abort."

"You'll have to talk to America yourself then, Agent Breslin." Julio's tone grew more serious. "Y/N is a CIA agent. Mexico has no part in this."

Walt's face turned pale. It was a feeling when hit by what's called 'Reality'. A reality that Walt hadn't fully grasped until now.

Mexico wouldn't extend a helping hand in this matter, and neither would America. The covert mission regarding Amado is an elite secret known only to a few. Even the Netherlands isn't aware of the CIA's unauthorized incursion into their country. If this mission were to be exposed, it would severely damage trust and international relations.

So, whatever happens to Y/N during this mission should not be linked back to America. They won't hesitate to abandon her immediately. This means she could end up in a state of disappearance without an identity or even a grave to bury.

Does You know about this before deciding to go there? Walt started to doubt. He looked back at Julio's face, seeing him nod slowly, as if already knowing what he was thinking.

"It's her profession. She knows well about the risks, and she's chosen it herself."

A dry chuckle escaped Walt's throat, sounding sarcastic and bitter at the same time. The American officer sank heavily into the chair, hands raised to hold his head, exhaling softly. There was no trace of anger or resentment, not a single word spoken.

Julio laid the documents in his hands on the table. He looked straight at the man opposite.

"Remember the conversation in Cuba? When you were furious because you were worried about her, I told you to trust in her," Julio said with a smile. "I know you're tired of hearing this, but this time I want you to continue to trust her, as long as there's hope. Anything is possible."

"That sounds more like self-consolation than the truth."

"This world is cruel. Sometimes, we get by just by consoling ourselves."

Walt closed his eyes briefly. There were only a few times he showed vulnerability to others beyond his usual demeanor of anger and unfriendliness. "If I knew it would turn out like this, I should say something to her."

He had been thinking about his feelings for you—something more than just a coworker. Every time they locked eyes, shared cigarettes, talked about trivial matters, and laughed together over nonsense, it all seemed clear. He has known it. But he chose to overlook it. Because his job was filled with blood and death every day. There's no space for romance and for a heart that has to bear the pain of sorrow and a painful past.

But the decision to remain indifferent to the feelings in his heart only makes him feel even more sorrowful today.

If on that day he had hugged you tight, if he had asked you not to go to Aruba, if he had decided to tell you how he truly felt, maybe the story could have ended differently. And sometimes, you might have felt the same too.

It's pointless to dwell on things that can never happen again.

The silence persisted until Walt stood up again. He pursed his lips, looking as if he wanted to quickly leave the room. However, Julio stopped him first. "Where are you going, Agent Breslin?"

"I'm just going back to the interrogation room," the DEA replied calmly. But Julio saw the clear anger and darkness in his eyes. "If anything happens to Y/N, I'll make sure they're all going to pay for it."

------------------------------------------------------------ 

[justlulu]

Javier Peña x F!Reader x Horacio Carrillo smut.

——

Hi people! Can you help me find this one-shot? I read this a couple years ago and I can’t find it anywhere.

Javi and reader are in a relationship and she has a crush on Carrillo. Javi lets her have her way with him. The plot is very basic, these are some details:

• It all happens in one room, probably Carrillo’s office

• He says something like ‘she’s a brat and this is finally the time he will put her in her place’

• The first thing she does is giving Carrillo a blowjob

• Javi watches this from a corner, but at some point he participates

[spooky-pomegranate]

Pablo's Ghost (Part 4)

Colonel Carrillo x F Reader (18+) 🔥 Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: After ten months apart, Carrillo shows you how badly he’s missed you. (Part 1) (Part 2)(Part 3)

—————————————————————

There’s something to be said about expectations. While it’s true they often unceremoniously faded away when life can no longer compete with the vivid nature of dreams, expectations are born from observations. They’re created after listening, watching, and experiencing the world and people around us. They’re a dream of what could be based on what has been.

And your expectations of Carrillo were no different. They were created from your memories, from the years you had spent watching him, listening to him, and yearning for him. You didn’t mean to craft them, but they existed within you just the same.

During your time in Colombia, you’d seen Carrillo use his strength to be rough. His powerful arms pushed, grappled, and tossed his enemies around like they were nothing more than rag-dolls. His large hands clawed, punched, and dug aggressively into the flesh of those who dared to cross him. And his deft fingers jabbed, scratched, and squeezed around the throats of sicarios who tried in their wicked ways to tear his country apart.

But as you lay there beneath him, feeling his weight press down upon you every expectation you had of Carrillo was challenged. Where you had expected him to be rough he was soft. Where you had expected him to be fast he was slow and where you had expected him to be mean he was gentle.

The same arms that threw men to the ground carefully held you against him. The same hands that left bruising marks on his enemies, traced delicate patterns across your ribs. And the same fingers that squeezed the triggers of violent weapons, caressed you with a touch so loving it took your breath away.

When you had crawled onto your bed and spread your legs open for him you had meant it as a challenge. You’d hope he’d snap like a wild animal deprived of food and devour you whole. But he hadn’t. He’d told you he wanted to give you more than that. He told you that you deserved more than that. And it was then you knew that Carrillo wasn’t going to fuck you. He was going to break every expectation you had of him and he was going to make love to you. He was going to leave you satiated in ways you had never imagined.

It had started when propped up on your elbows and spread wide open, you had begged him.

“Horacio, I have never loved anyone the way that I love you. I want you. All of you. So please Carrillo… please, I can’t wait any longer. I want to lose myself in you.”

And then he smiled and answered you with a honeyed question.

“Then how could I ever deny you, mi amor?”

It was then he had moved slowly toward the foot of your bed, reaching for the hem of his polo and carefully lifting it over his head. His broad chest was exposed to you for the very first time and you couldn’t help but trail your eyes over his muscles, his beautiful skin, his patch of tufted dark hair that trailed deliciously from his lower stomach into his trousers.

And then you saw them—the healed marks, the remnants of Pablo’s fury, the bullet wounds. There were half a dozen of them, each small, round, and pinkish. The scars were a reminder of how hard Carrillo must have fought to get back here… to come home to you. They made your heartache and you whispered his name.

“Carrillo.”

At the sound of your voice, he moved.

Underneath you, the bed dipped as he sunk one knee onto the mattress and then the other. His hands tenderly reached for your ankles, his calloused palms touching you with a reverence reserved for the most delicate and holy of creatures. Then his lips followed, giving each joint a fleeting and dulcet kiss.

You wanted to tell him how beautiful he looked revering you, but your words caught in your throat. You were entirely too enraptured with the view before you. He was a vision you never expected. He was something so much sweeter.

Carrillo continued his adoration, touching and kissing every inch of you: your legs, your knees, your thighs, your stomach, your ribs. Nothing was left untouched, nothing was left unworshipped. And every time he reached a new place you managed to find a way to breathlessly thank him for his affection. Your hands stroked his arms, you brushed back his soft hair, and you trailed lingering lines across the taut muscles of his abdomen. All the while you offered him bawdy praises that’d dripped from your mouth like sugary syrup.

“You feel so good.” “You look incredible.” “You’re so strong.” You had said.

And that’s how you found yourself here with Carrillo’s body hovering over you and all of your expectations of him completely and utterly shattered. But it was perfect and you couldn’t get enough.

He brought his lips up to the shell of your ear.

“Let me see all of you,” he whispered and you willingly obeyed.

Wordlessly, with one arm you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. Your breasts spilled out before him and Carrillo groaned. The vibrations of his moan reached straight to your core, and like adding fuel to a raging bonfire, your desire for him burned hotter.

Carrillo’s lips left the shell of your ear and he kissed down the side of your jaw, to your neck, and then lower until his mouth found your breasts. His tongue swirled slowly around your nipple before he sucked it gently into his mouth.

Still propped up on your elbows you couldn’t help but arch into his touch. You whined as Carrillo slid his hands behind your back to pull you closer. He continued to lick, suck, and kiss you until his mouth moved from to your other breast and again you cried out as he lavished it with the same rapt attention. It was all so much and at the same time not nearly enough.

“Please…” you whimpered.

You reached down and thread your hand through Carrillo’s hair, tugging at him until, with a loud and wet pop, he finally let go of your peaked nipple.

“Si, mi amor?” He asked innocently.

Carrillo's gaze met yours and you nearly melted in a puddle. The combination of love and lust he held behind his chestnut eyes was too perfect. But still, you wanted to see something more. You wanted to see him come undone.

“I want to taste you, Horacio,” you said before pushing forward and kissing him, your tongue swirling inside his mouth.

Carrillo pulled back, before resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath.

“Do you mean-” he started.

“Yes.” You didn’t let him finish.

Carrillo buried his head into the crook of your neck.

“Aye dios, dame fuerzas,” he mumbled into your skin before quickly pinning you to his chest and rolling you both over. You yelped in surprise at the abrupt way Carrillo moved you both with such ease. It made him laugh and it made you smile.

Your legs were straddling his still clothed thighs and your hands rested on his bare chest. You could feel his heart beat rapidly underneath your sprawling palms as you pushed yourself upright. His chest rose and fell more rapidly than it had before. You could tell that he liked this, you on top of him, his head resting against your pillow that smelled like your perfume. You wonder if he wanted this from the moment he entered your apartment. You wonder if he’d fantasized about this while you were apart.

Carrillo slid his hands down your back to your hips and his grip tightened ever so slightly as you leaned forward to give him another gentle kiss. At the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin, you unconsciously rocked your hips forward. And then you felt it… Carrillo’s desire for you, rock hard and still trapped underneath the fabric of his khakis.

“Mhmmm,” he groaned.

The bonfire inside you became an inferno. You rocked your hips again. Carrillo’s groan became a growl.

“Cariño,” he said looking up at you, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them, “are you trying to tease me?”

Your eyes closed and your head fell back as you slide your hands down his chest and over his scars until they brushed the waistband of his pants.

“No. I just…” Your voice faded into silence as your fingers played with the button on his khakis.

“Are you nervous, mi vida?” Carrillo asked his own voice husky and low. You sighed before answering.

“No. I just want you so badly. I’ve wanted this for so long. I… I can’t believe you’re real. I can’t believe you came back to me.”

You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss over a scar just below his right shoulder. Your lips lingered around the mark before moving to another scar on his chest. His skin, tan and smooth, tasted salty against your lips. Carrillo closed his eyes and stayed silent, letting your lips trace over every healed wound. When you’d kissed the last scar by his waist he reached for your cheek, gently cupping your face in his hands.

“You asked me to fight and I promised you that I would cariño.” You looked up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. “You have to know by now that I would do anything for you. Anything you ask of me, I’ll give it to you.”

“Horacio.” You whispered his name with the same holy reverence he had touched you with and it made his heart skip. He wondered what he’d done to deserve something as sweet and beautiful as you.

You slide further down Carrillo’s legs and as you did your eyes immediately fell to the place where you had ground against him. A wet spot remained, darkening the light fabric. With anyone else you might have been embarrassed but with Carrillo it only made you more aroused.

You made short work of the button and zipper on his khakis before Carrillo lifted his hips and you pushed his pants and boxers off his frame. And then the world stopped. Your breath caught in your throat. Now sprung forth from his underwear, Carrillo again subverted your expectations. He was slightly bigger and so much thicker than you ever could have imagined. The tip of his cock was reddening and a single bead of pre-cum leaked down the side.

You reached out tentatively and took hold of him in your hand. As you ran your thumb over his tip you tried to imagine him inside of you. You immediately felt a thudding pulse in between your thighs.

“God, you’re so big,” you whined as you began to stroke him slowly up and down, your fingers brushing over his bulging veins. Carrillo groaned and his hips shifted forward seeking more of your touch.

“I know cariño. I know. You don’t have to- hughhhh,” Carrillo’s voice cut out as your lips wrapped around his cock and you pushed him deep into your mouth. His head fell back against your pillow as you bobbed up and down, taking him as far as you could without choking. You hummed around him, enjoying his slightly salty and musky taste.

“You look so pretty like this,” Horacio hissed, after propping himself up on his elbows so he could watch you better. And god was he ever enraptured with the view. Your lips were stretching, your cheeks hollowing, your saliva dripping everywhere… god you were making him feel so good.

You pushed your head way down to his base and Carrillo dug his hands into your hair… fuckkk maybe you were making him feel too good.

“Querida…” he said, practically begging. “Easy, mi amor. I don’t want to be done with you so soon.”

Your heart fluttered as you pulled away and looked up. He was panting, his body strung tight with tension. He reached for your hands and as you interlocked your fingers with his he pulled you back towards his lips.

There was more fire behind his kiss this time. It still wasn’t bruising when he slot his mouth over yours and chased after your tongue but it was more intense. It was more possessive. It was more demanding. And it was unquestionably more exhilarating too. Knowing you had this kind of power over the strongest man in Columbia made the inferno growing in your chest spread.

You felt like you were burning. He felt like he was burning. You didn’t know how much longer you both could tease each other like this. You were going to explode. But Carrillo must have sensed your patient was running thin because he moved quickly, rolling you over again so your back was on the mattress and he was pressed on top of you.

You smiled so big that he couldn’t help but smile back at you.

“I like when you do that,” you said, squeezing his hands that were still interlocked with yours, “I like it when you toss around me like I'm nothing.”

Carrillo's eyes turned dark. He realized maybe he didn’t need to hold himself back as much with you. Maybe you wanted things to be a bit rougher, a little bit more aggressive. He could do that. He could be that man for you. He let go of your hands.

And then Carrillo reached in between your thighs and in one quick and powerful move ripped away your underwear, pulling it off your body and tossing it to the floor. You yelped again and his smile inadvertently turned wicked. He liked coaxing these noises out of you. These little whimpers and whines… they were better than anything he had dreamt about over the past ten months.

He slid his hand down your ribs, over your stomach, and then to your thighs. But before he could sink his fingers into your wet cunt, you pulled at his wrist, yanking his hand away.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. Please…” You begged as you pushed your hips toward him, rubbing up against his hard cock.

“Mierda,” he hissed before grabbing your hands again and pinning them above your head on the mattress. Carrillo kept you there with one hand while his other hand grabbed his cock. He lined himself up with you.

“Are you sure, mi vida? Tell me you’re ready.” Carrillo asked, his voice practically a growl as he slowly stroked himself.

“I’m ready,” your voice was ragged and desperate, “I love you.”

He pushed into you and you whined again, loudly. You really hoped Steve and Javier weren’t home right now, because you knew this was just going to be just the beginning of the noises Carrillo was going to draw from you tonight. You squeezed your eyes shut and dug your fingers into his hands, searching for something to ground you to bring you back to earth. The pain and pleasure coursing through your body made your head spin. It was perfect. He was perfect.

Carrillo didn’t know if he could move. He didn’t know if he could breathe. You felt so good wrapped around him that his mind was going totally blank. For a long moment, you both froze. You stayed motionless and joined together with his throbbing cock halfway inside you.

But eventually, Carrillo moved again, finding the strength to set a steady and slow pace. It was intoxicating and you knew he felt it too. Carrillo struggled to stay silent above you. He groaned and mumbled a slew of incoherent Spanish phrases in your ear. There was something about how pretty you looked, how tight you felt, how sweet you sounded.

And with every thrust, every roll of his hips, every single growl he gave you, it pushed you closer to the edge. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

“Horacio I’m going to…”

“Come for me, mi amor.”

Then with a particularly vicious snap of his hips, you felt the knot uncoil as the world went white and fuzzy around you. You called his name again and again as your back arched off the mattress and he finally let go of your hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands found purchase on your back.

“Me estás volviendo loco,” he said as he pulled you upright.

You both were kneeling together on the mattress as he continued to thrust up into you. The new angle sent you hurtling toward another orgasm. He was deeper now, inside you completely to the hilt.

“You’re so good for me, cariño… so good,” he breathed into your ear as one of his hands slid up your back and into your hair. You rested your forehead into the crook of his neck, trying desperately to hold on. But when he spoke next, you couldn’t control yourself. His words were too sweet.

“Te amo más que a nada. Mi corazón es tuyo… tuyo.”

That was it. You let go. You dropped off of a cliff and slipped out of your body as you fell. Carrillo felt your orgasm take claim of you. The pulsing waves of your orgasm were sluggish and each undulation took its time washing over you in long drawn-out swells.

Your body went weak. Your cunt spasmed around his cock, squeezing him, pulling him further inside you. Carrillo couldn’t control himself. He groaned low and deep and with one final thrust, he joined you. The knot you had felt in your stomach had tightened around his cock and you pulled every drop of his warm cum deep inside you. With heavy limbs, you clung to one another.

Carrillo gently laid you both down on the bed. You curled into his massive frame, resting your chin on his shoulder and your leg draped over his hip. He drew small and delicate circles over the skin of your ribs and your side. You both stared into each other’s eyes as you tried to catch your breath. Carrillo smiled at you enjoying the feeling of finally having you, holding you, being with you… but eventually, his smile faded and so did yours.

“I’m sorry cariño…” he whispered breaking the tender silence. His voice was so soft that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.

“What?” You whispered back in surprise at the sudden shift in his mood. “Why are you sorry?”

“I should have come back to you sooner.” He said buring his head against your neck. Your heart ached. You thread your hand into his hair before kissing the side of his face.

“Why… why didn’t you? Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

Carrillo sighed before pulling back from you to look into your eyes.

“I wanted to be as strong as I was before.” He paused. You could see from the way his jaw was clenching and unclenching that he was trying to consider his next words carefully.

“I wish I could just run away from here with you and leave this all behind but…” his voice faded into the night. His heartbeat felt uneasy in his chest.

How could he be so stupid? Now that he had you he didn’t want to leave you, but surely you would leave him. Surely you wouldn’t want to go through this hell with him again. And he shouldn't ask you to. You’d been through enough pain already. You should just leave him tonight and never look back. That would be best for you.

“You can’t,” you said dropping your hand from his hair.

“No. I can’t. I’m sorry cariño. I know you deserve more, but I can’t let him win. Someone has to stop him.”

You sat up and Carrillo’s heart stopped. Was this it? Was this the moment you told him you couldn’t watch him fight Pablo again? Was this the last happy moment he would have in this god-forsaken country? Was this the last happy moment of his life?

Fuck. He should have said this to you right away. He should have told you the moment he walked in your door that he was still going to go after Pablo despite it all. Despite the odds stacked against him. Despite the fact that he’d nearly been put in the ground twice already. Despite the fact that he loved you.

Carrillo couldn’t look at you. Tears filled his eyes. The room felt cold as silence took hold.

But then your soft hand reached out and cupped his cheek.

“I know who you are Horacio.” He met your eyes and you smiled. “I knew if you came back to me you would still be the man you always were. A fighter. A leader. A warrior…” you paused, breathing deeply.

“You’ve always been what Colombia needs Horacio. It’s always been you.”

Carrillo felt like he’d surfaced from the depths of icy cold water. Oxygen flooded back into his lungs, burning him with a bitter sting. He sat up alongside you.

“I won’t let you do this alone.” You continued, your voice as sweet as honey. “I’ll stand next to you through it all. I love you. Te amo.”

Carrillo pushed forward and kissed you again. You were the most perfect thing he’d ever known. You were his beautiful and perfect cariño. His voice waivered as he whispered against your lips.

“Te amo. I love you.”

—————————————————————

[mariabolivar12]

Cartas de amor prohibido

Emparejamiento: Horacio Carrillo x lectora Escobar

N/E: esta fue la idea de una seguidora así que espero que te guste y cumpla con las expectativas @camipad

Resumen: estabas cansada de esconderte y pagar por los crímenes de tu hermano, el dinero sucio no era algo que te guste por eso un día decidiste tomar una decisión que cambio tu vida y la de tu hermano

Sabías que era arriesgado, más aún porque no tenías mucho tiempo y sabías que tu hermano se iba a enterar, no iba a estar contento y lo sabías, pero eso no te importo, entrantes al lugar decidida y con un objetivo claro, sobresalía entre la multitud su cabellera rubia era reconocible, sentado en la barra con un vaso de whiskey por la mitad y una mirada lejana el agente Murphy tu salida de ese infierno

-es malo tomar solo y no invitarle un trago a una dama señor Murphy- su cabeza se giró tan rápido en tu dirección que juraste escuchar algún hueso de su cuello crujir, su mirada de asombro fue lo que te hizo saber que claramente sabía quien eras

-¿que es lo que quieres? ¿Porque me buscas?-divisaste su mano justo encima del sitio donde su revólver descansaba, de todas las situaciones que pasaron por tu mente nunca se te cruzó la idea de que tuviera una reacción tan a la defensiva y no lo culpas es entendible el porqué

-tranquilo agente Murphy, vine por mi propia voluntad…sólo quiero que lo atrapen, puedo darte lo que se…quiero ayudar, que acabe con las masacres y los muertos…es lo único que quiero?-

-a cambio de que? Y porque debería creerte?-

-a cambio de que me saquen de esto…a cambio de la Paz en mi vida, eso es lo que quiero a cambio…si tuviera alguna otra intención ya la habría llevado a cabo-

Resultó que es un gran conversador, y aunque te costó mucho convencerlo de tus verdaderas intenciones, lo lograste y en realidad era más amable de lo que parece y de hecho te escucho todo lo que tenías que decir, pero también te pregunto por muchas cosas las cuales respondiste la mayoría, algunas las cuales no sabías solo no las contestabas

Te llevo a la escuela Carlos Holguín, donde te presento a su compañero Javier peña quien al momento de verte su cara perdió color, eso era algo que tu hermano había hecho y tú estabas cansada de causar esa impresión en las personas, y de que la sombra de lo que había hecho también afectará tu vida y la percepción de la gente sobre ti, a pesar de eso te escuchó y preguntó casi las mismas cosas que su compañero, al paso de diez minutos de interrogatorio apareció un joven oficial, quien parecía amigable pero a la vez serio y agotado, como todos los oficiales a tu alrededor

-Murphy, peña el Coronel quiere verlos…ahora- se dio vuelta y caminó en la misma dirección en la que vino, el agente Murphy te dijo que esperaras en su escritorio, su compañero solo se limitó a observarte con detenimiento, los dos se fueron sin más y sólo cinco minutos después regresaron con un hombre del cual habías escuchado hablar y no precisamente eran cosas buenas, pero nunca lo habías visto en persona y de hecho no parecía tan malo como tu hermano lo había hecho ver

Su uniforme estaba pulcramente limpio y acomodando al igual que sus botas, su cabello negro fielmente peinado y recortado con el atisbo de algunas canas, caminaba con una rigidez única de un militar pero también con una autoridad y autosuficiencia como si fuera el dueño del lugar, su cara no reflejaba ninguna emoción pero su rostro era atractivo sin duda, su uniforme se acoplaba a su musculoso torso, lograste evidenciar sólo un reloj de plástico negro en su muñeca izquierda sin rastro de un anillo lo que te hizo pensar que era un desperdicio que no tuviera dueña, por muy guapo que te haya parecido no era el motivo por el que estabas aquí…aunque sin duda alguna acudir al agente Murphy había sido una gran decisión

-¿porque la hermana de Pablo Escobar quiere traicionarlo?-si creías que su cuerpo era atractivo su voz lo era el doble, Dios este hombre era obra del demonio…aunque su tono de seriedad te hizo saber que no estaba jugando y que quería echarte lo más pronto posible, se tomó el tiempo de escucharte y de hacerte innumerables preguntas las cuales respondiste gustosa

-¿porque debería creerte?¿que hay diferente entre tu y tu hermano?-

-de verdad Coronel usted cree que estaría aquí de no ser cierto…mi hermano debe estar buscándome por todas partes y apenas se entere si es que no lo ha hecho ya, vendrá a buscarme, sabe que no estoy de acuerdo con nada de lo que hace pero eso no le importa…quiero que si algún día tengo hijos no tengan que vivir con el peso de ser familia de un narco y no cualquier narco-lo miraste a los ojos y su mirada no demostró ninguna emoción, solo oscuridad y frialdad en sus orbes marrones

-te llevaremos a un lugar seguro, solo tendrás contacto conmigo y con nadie más-

A partir de ahí todo pasó como un borrón, ese mismo día te llevó a una casa segura, el único que sabía de tu ubicación era él y los hombres que estaban afuera de la puerta, el lugar no era muy grande pero al menos estabas fuera del alcance de tu hermano, la tarde cayó y con ella llegó la noche, no lograste encontrar el sueño y justo cuando creíste que estabas a punto de cerrar los ojos el ruido de la puerta te despertó

Con mucho cuidado llegaste a la sala donde divisaste al intruso vestido de verde oliva entrar a la casa, se veía exactamente igual que esa mañana solo que ahora un poco más cansado, traía una bolsa de plástico en la mano y debajo de su brazo un sobre de papel, dejó todo sobre la mesa del comedor y luego abrió el sobre de papel donde sacó varias fotos

-cuando volví al comando dejaron estas fotos para mí, tenías razón cuando dijiste que sabía donde estabas…además de las fotos dejó una nota-

-que decía esa nota?-

-no está feliz, dijo que si no te entregamos iba a matarnos y que si te tocaba un solo cabello mi castigo sería peor que la muerte, pero eso no pasara y así tenga que morir por protegerte lo haré-

-Gracias Coronel-

-es mi trabajo, en la bolsa hay comida suficiente para dos días, mañana en la mañana llegará algo de ropa y más comida-

-hasta cuando estaré aqui?-

-con esa amenaza creo que por bastante tiempo, así que ponte cómoda-se sentó en el sofá de la sala y encendió el televisor, se quitó las botas y se puso cómodo

-se va a quedar aquí?-

-esta es mi casa, por supuesto que si- te tomó por sorpresa pero se notaba que no quería hablar más del tema así que sólo tomaste la bolsa y acomodaste todo donde creíste que iban, luego te dirigiste a la habitación no sin antes echar un vistazo a la sala donde lo encontraste dormido en el sofá todavía sentado en la misma posición en la que se sentó hace un rato

A la mañana siguiente no encontraste el cuerpo que dejaste en el sofá la noche anterior pero lo que sí encontraste fue un desayuno que aunque no fuera lo más lindo del mundo tenía pinta de estar delicioso

Estuviste en su casa por más de seis meses, y en todo ese tiempo lograste captar sentimientos por el hombre a quien aprendiste a conocer y a querer, al principio te dio miedo aceptarlo pero te diste cuenta que no era nada malo, que si pudiste sobrevivir a tu hermano podrás con un rechazo, pero no fue así de hecho fue todo lo contrario Horacio como habías empezado a llamarlo te correspondió y de qué manera

A partir de ahí trataba de llegar más temprano y de poder conversar contigo, aunque no podían salir mucho estaban felices, le enseñaste a cocinar y también a bailar salsa y el té enseñó a bailar merengue, sus noches se volvieron tu momento del día favorito porque podías estar cerca de él y de la seguridad de sus brazos

-esta noche llegaré algo tarde mi amor, así que no te preocupes por mi-

-papi sabes que siempre me preocupo por ti y más cuando llegas a altas horas, llámame para saber que estás bien si?-

-esta bien mi amor, te amo nos vemos- luego de un largo beso se marchó, no te gustaba cuando eso pasaba porque solo significaba que estaría en un operativo, pero entendías que era su trabajo, y aunque te pedía que no lo esperaras despierta siempre lo hacías, y no por querer llevarle la contraria sino más bien porque querías asegurarte de que estuviera bien

El día de Horacio fue duro, estaba cansado y sudoroso, no veía la hora de llegar a casa contigo, pero los informes que tenía que entregar no se lo permitían, en el camino a su oficina se encontró a los norteamericanos sentados en sus escritorios rodeados de una nube de humo causada por sus cigarrillos, inclinó su cabeza en forma de saludo y siguió su camino, al entrar en su oficina encontró que en su escritorio reposaba un sobre con su nombre escrito en el

Al abrirlo lo primero que vio fue una carta escrita a mano, seguida de un par de fotos en las cuales sin duda alguna se podía ver a la mujer de su vida despidiéndose de él con un largo beso en la puerta de su casa, al ver las fotos por un momento se asustó y no por él sino por ti, tenía enemigos y esto significaba que sabían dónde estabas y eso si lo asusto

Señor Coronel Horacio Carrillo

He recibido la desagradable noticia de que mi hermana está hospedada en su casa, lo cual no es algo de mi entera gracia, espero que por su propio bienestar entienda que lo mejor para ella es estar alejada de usted ya que a su lado corre peligro su vida y las consecuencias que pueden traerle a usted serán nefastas, espero que pueda razonar y entender que ella debe estar con un verdadero hombre y debe estar de vuelta en su hogar ya que empieza a hacernos mucha falta, esta será la única advertencia de mi parte parte para usted Coronel, espero tome la mejor decisión para su propio bienestar

Att: Pablo Escobar

Pensó por un momento que era una broma, de verdad quería creerlo, Pablo Escobar le envió una carta para amenazarlo, de verdad estaba a punto de reír, como era siquiera posible que le estuviera exigiendo que se apartara de tu lado, en este punto de su vida y de su relación contigo sabía exactamente bien lo que tenía que hacer, por eso antes de irse a casa abrió el Cajón de su escritorio y sacó de él una pequeña caja de terciopelo y la guardó en su bolsillo no sin antes darle una respuesta a la amenaza de su cuñado

Señor Pablo Escobar

Creí por un momento que se trataba de una broma de mal gusto y lo sigo creyendo, nose con que fundamentos cree usted que cuenta para exigirme que me aleje de su hermana, porque ni aunque me ponga tres objetivos en la espalda lo haré, ella significa todo para mi y tomó la decisión correcta al alejarse del mundo de terror que te has encargado de construir, no me alejare de ella porque la amo con todo mi corazón y pienso hacerla mi esposa, ella no llevará más tu apellido será la futura señora de carrillo, y nuestros hijos no tendrán nunca que vivir con el peso de tus pecados

Att: Coronel Horacio Carrillo

Posdata: nadie me a apartar del lado de la mujer mi vida ni siquiera su propio hermano

[drabbles-mc]

Lost Time

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

For Day 25 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: yearning

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, light angst

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Horacio Carrillo and his messy relationships, my beloveds 😌

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You’d lost track of the last time the two of you had spoken. The last phone call between you felt like it had happened lifetimes ago. The last face-to-face conversation? Even longer than that. You both had the feeling that it was coming. Inevitable was too strong of a word, but it was much more than probable.

It would only be so long before he really started holding it against you. You knew that was coming, too. No one got to leave him and let it be a clean break. There always had to be a little bit of a mess. He was practically hardwired for it.

Which was why you didn’t know how shocked you really were when you walked through the airport and saw him standing there waiting for you.

“Horacio?” you said, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“I heard you were coming home,” he said, his tone painfully neutral. “I wanted to see it for myself.”

His tone was controlled but you could see it in his eyes that there was more he wanted to say. There was more that he wanted to get into. He wouldn’t do that here, though, not in front of so many people. The look in his eyes almost made you want to remind him that Colombia might’ve been home for him, but it wasn’t home for you. Especially not once he stopped calling.

“Well,” you shrugged, “here I am.”

Your assumption was that the person getting you from the airport was going to be Steve or Javi. Someone from your team. Someone that you figured might still actually want to see you. It crossed your mind that maybe Carrillo had missed you more than his lack of letters and phone calls led you to believe. That, or he just wanted to give you a bit of a hard time and a cold shoulder about the whole ordeal. One of those felt a little more likely than the other.

He at least helped you with your bags. You had the backpack on your shoulders, pulling one rolling suitcase with you while he had the other. It was amazing to you that you’d learned to parse your life down to three bags. If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be able to do that, and that you wouldn’t feel like you were missing parts of yourself in doing so, you would’ve told them that they were insane.

He loaded everything into the back of the CNP vehicle. You made your way to the passenger seat. Just as you were going to buckle yourself in, Carrillo pulled the driver’s door open. And, just for a moment, it felt like you’d never left. There was that strange air of routine to it all. The problem was that everything else about the two of you felt different, strained in a way it never used to be.

“I was just going to head home,” you said as he put the key in the ignition, “unless they really need me there today.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Tomorrow is fine.”

“Alright.”

“Same building, right?”

You nodded, watching as his hand maneuvered the gear-shift and put the car in drive. “Yea. Same building. Couple floors up from where I was before.” You paused, trying to cut through whatever weird lingering tension was still in the air between you. “Peña and Murphy will have to put in a little work now if they wanna come up and see me.”

You were ready for him to make a comment about that. Some remark about how you’d still have your same place, the little shoebox of an apartment that had a balcony with a view that made up for all the rest of it, if you just hadn’t up and left. You could see the comments practically dancing on the tip of his tongue. There was a slight shift in his jaw as he bit them back, and you almost wished that he’d let them fly. Him being angry with you would make the previous weeks and weeks of silence a little more understandable. Maybe even palatable.

Whatever snide remarks he’d come up with, he stored away for another time. Anger that he would take out on someone else at a later date, you were sure. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he forced out a simple, “Okay.”

When he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment building, you were ready for him to help you get your bags out, and then just leave the rest of it to you. It wasn’t as though you expected him to come up and help you unpack. Part of you was still surprised that he’d been the one to come and get you. You couldn’t tell what his angle was. You’d seen enough of his anger to know what that was like, and this wasn’t it. But it didn’t feel the same way that it used to between you either.

“I can get it from here,” you told him when he set your bags on the ground.

He shook his head. “I’ll help.”

“Horacio—”

“It’s fine.”

Of all the arguments that the two of you were practically destined to get into in the coming weeks, you weren’t going to let this be one of them. Grabbing one suitcase, you left the other for him. “Thank you.”

Slipping the key into the lock on the door, you let yourself in. You walked in first, Carrillo following close behind. You looked around the apartment as you stepped into it. It was nice enough, the way that most of the housing agents were put up in tended to be. It wasn’t luxury, but it was comfortable. That was really all you needed. You’d only be there to sleep anyway, and it wasn’t as though any of you did enough of that.

“I’d offer you a drink or something,” you told him, chuckling quietly as you dropped your backpack to the floor, “but I’m pretty sure I’ve got nothing to offer.”

“It’s alright.”

The two of you stood there in the space between your new living room and kitchen, the one patch of apartment that had nothing furnishing it. You waited for him to leave, or say something. It still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. You watched him as he looked around, like your government-furnished apartment was suddenly the most interesting thing he’d ever seen before.

“I didn’t think that you’d be the one to come get me,” you told him honestly, cutting through the silence since he clearly had no intention to.

“Why not?”

You laughed, more out of shock than amusement. Carrillo was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Stubborn, yes, but not stupid. There was no way that he didn’t understand what you meant, why you said it. “You didn’t even want to make a phone call, Horacio.” You shook your head. “Going out of your way to play chauffer didn’t seem like it was going to be in the cards.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to.” His response was quick, his words quiet. You were expecting an edge to his voice but found none.

“No?” you asked, still not believing him.

“I didn’t think that you were ever coming back. So,” he looked down at the floor, shaking his head, “what was the point?”

“The point?” You stepped in closer to him. “I care about you. That was the point. I figured you cared about me too. Maybe that could’ve been the point.”

“Of course I cared.” He caught himself. “Care.”

You frowned. “Cutting me out without telling me why was a weird way to show that.”

“I couldn’t keep listening to you knowing that I wasn’t ever going to see you again. Talking to you, hearing about your day,” he shook his head, “when I wasn’t part—”

“You were part of it, though,” you countered, practically chest-to-chest with him now. “That’s why I spent so much time fucking calling you, writing you. That was you being part of my day. Me being part of yours.” Tears began to sting at the edges of your eyes, emotions you hadn’t had the time to feel in months bubbling back to the surface. “Then you gave it up.”

“You left first,” he argued, but his voice was still quiet.

“But you stopped trying first.”

He wanted to tell you the truth. He wanted to be able to say it all, but words had never been his strong suit. He wanted to tell you that every night he’d get off the phone and for as much as he loved hearing your voice on the other end of the line, it felt like someone dropped a weight on his chest each time he put the phone back down on the receiver. For as much as he loved reading every letter from you, studying all the intricacies of your handwriting, having to see a return address that was so far from where he was stung. He wasn’t enough to make you stay, and the ache of missing you was one type of pain he didn’t know how to stomach.

There was only a shred of distance left between the two of you, but you erased it anyway. Resting your hand on his shoulder, you squeezed lightly. “I missed you.”

His eyes went to your hand, traveling up your arm until they finally reached your face. “I missed you too.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax slightly as he leaned in and let his forehead rest against yours. “It’s why I stopped picking up.”

Your eyes shut, and you could feel the tears that were clinging to your eyelashes. “You should’ve said that.”

He couldn’t go back and fix what had already happened, change the things that he did or didn’t say. But he could tell you now, at least. “I stopped because it hurt, because you weren’t coming back. It felt foolish, like I was holding out hope for something that wasn’t going to—”

“But it did,” you said, cutting him off. “And we could’ve had all that time.”

It was an argument that the two of you easily could’ve kept taking in circles. He could keep saying you kicked it all off by leaving, and you could keep saying that he put the final nail in the coffin because he stopped answering your calls. You were both right, and it wasn’t getting either of you anywhere.

“And now?” he asked.

You brought your hand from his shoulder to the side of his face, thumb grazing along his cheek. “I still miss you.”

He felt the way your thumb stopped moving, the way the tips of your fingers pressed into his skin just slightly. You were almost pulling him towards you, but you stopped yourself. Like you heard the words but were still deciding what they meant, how much weight was really behind them. So instead of saying anything more, Carrillo decided that he would just show you instead.

Lifting his chin, he moved just enough to bring his lips to yours. A gesture that was supposed to be soft, a gentle punctuation to prove that he meant what he’d said to you. But the moment that he felt the soft warmth of your lips against his, all of that went out the window. The second he could feel the quick breath that you sucked in when you realized what was happening, all he could do was desperately try to pour himself into you.

His arms snaked around you, pulling himself tight to you. His lips slotted against yours, desperate and bruising. Desperate to put all those nights filled with longing and missing you into something that would actually do one of you some sort of good. He didn’t know who was getting more out of it at that point. He didn’t really care.

He was everything you remembered, all hunger and need, traces of cigarette smoke still lingering on his tongue. A filthy habit you had been on him to quit but in that moment it tasted like coming home. Your fingers curled into the stiff material of his fatigues, needing to find purchase in something to make sure it was all real, that it wasn’t just part of a cruel trick he was playing.

He stopped kissing you for a moment, but his lips were still brushing against yours as he spoke. “I missed you,” he repeated.

In all the late night and early morning calls, the letters that went back and forth, he never really said it like that. Not so concisely, so directly. Like saying it as such would’ve given it too much power, made the distance between you and the yearning that filled it a little too real and too heavy. But now you were in front of him. You were here and he was kissing you, holding you. And he could say it. It was safe to say it now because he already had you back.

You were going to tell him the same, let him know that he wasn’t alone in all of this. He never had been. But he didn’t give you the chance. His lips crashed against yours once more, none of the calculated finesse that was such a staple with the Colonel in any other capacity. It nearly knocked the wind out of you, made your knees buckle, but it didn’t matter because he was holding you tightly enough to keep you from crumbling anyway.

Suddenly he had you falling back onto the sofa. He moved you through the apartment with the ease of someone who had been spending time there with you for weeks already. You didn’t fight him on it, letting your back hit the cushions, his body pinning to yours as he followed you down. You were pulling at his shirt, untucking it from the pants of his fatigues. His hands were already working at your button and zipper, each of you trying to peel the layers off each other as quickly and as clumsily as possible.

It'd gone differently in his head, all the nights when his mind wandered and conjured up what it would be like if he got to see you again, have you again like he used to. It was never quite like this when he pictured it. He’d given himself too much credit, thinking that he would be able to hold back at all, control himself. He couldn’t. From the second he felt the warmth of your skin against his, the tickle of your breath against his jaw, there was no moderation to be found.

Next time, he thought to himself as he yanked your jeans down your legs, next time he would drag it out. He’d take his time with you. But this had all been dragged out long enough. He wouldn’t have even taken the time to bother with his shirt if you hadn’t started with it first, but that was one thing he could easily do for you. He didn’t have it in him to take his time, but he could at least give you that. It hit the floor right before the rest of his clothes.

The groan that he let out as he pushed into you set every inch of you on fire. Your nails dug into his back, raking along skin that you hadn’t been able to touch in far too long. His lips moved away from yours, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck right before his teeth sank into it. Your body drew itself to his, wanting every bit of contact you could get.

He settled inside you for a moment, hips pressed tightly to yours. For a moment all of your thoughts about Colombia not being home couldn’t have felt further from the truth. You were fighting to catch your breath and the two of you had hardly gotten started. Your eyes fluttered shut, focused on how he felt against you, hips against yours, his face in the crook of your neck. You tried to pull him tighter to you, unsure if it was even possible to do so.

The second he started to move his hips, all you had it in you to do was let his name tumble from your lips. You could feel what it did to him, the way his movements became a little more desperate. Every thrust, each press of his lips to your skin, all just trying to pull that sound from you over and over again. Trying to make up for lost nights, all the times when he wanted to hear that same breathless tone from you but couldn’t, wanted to feel the warmth of you against him but you weren’t there. It was a lot to ask when you’d only been back in Colombia for a couple of hours, but it wouldn’t be the first time the Colonel was being unfair. You didn’t mind it this time, though, as his hands slid up your thighs, moving your legs so he could push deeper into you. His lips dragged along your jaw and all the thoughts, the memories, the weight of the last few months, all of it disappeared. It was just the two of you again, finally, for however long it lasted this time.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Matter of Perspective - Part Three

A return to the office doesn't exactly mean a return to normalcy.

Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader

Rating: Mature. Minors, please do not interact.

Word Count: 3,400

Warnings: Office pettiness, threats (both joking and real), awkwardness, relationship conversations, minor misunderstandings.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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The DEA office was the same on Friday as it always was. 

When you returned from the Magdalena River bust - as it came to be known - you found that the trash can by your desk still held the forgotten remnants of your last office lunch, someone had used your mug and left it in the sink, and that Steve freaking Murphy had strategically reordered the photographs on your desk. 

You were halfway through chewing him out about it and fending off his excuses (“The stack fell over! I was just trying to put them back how I thought they were.”) when Javier Peña and Horacio Carrillo stepped into the office.

The gathered employees, American and Colombian alike, burst into applause. Peña nodded, offering a hint of a smile when Murphy let out a piercing whistle. Carrillo was stone-faced as ever, but his eyes traveled briefly to you. You smiled at him, feeling foolish for clapping when he raised a single brow. But it was all in good fun and provided some much-needed levity in the office, so you kept going. 

The shipment of cocaine that had been seized along the Magdalena River was a large one, and that provided the most popular topic of conversation through the day. It was a never-ending source of amusement for you. Stories about the bust ranged from someone tailing Escobar himself and finding the ships to some undercover work by one of the DEA agents. One theory even gave credit to an anonymous tip from someone who had seen the narcos unloading product into the caves. You snorted aloud at that one. If anyone from the office had seen the remoteness of the caves, they would have come up with a better story.

But you couldn’t spare too much time for listening to office gossip. The pile of photographs on your desk was already too large to ignore and it was growing by the hour. You tore through them, discarding or expanding upon notes that previous agents had left on each one. Sometimes the pictures were heavily marked, clearly having been through several stages of analysis before they reached you, but you still checked them diligently. You never knew when you were going to see something others had missed. 

“Got a minute?”

You looked up to find Peña standing by your desk. The pile of photographs beckoned and you really didn’t want another week of shunning from jealous office workers, but Peña hadn’t asked when it wasn’t important…

“Now?” you asked, fingers stroking delicately over the photograph you were almost finished analyzing. 

Peña shrugged. “Up to you, but sooner would be better.”

With a sigh at the realization that you would end up working late to cover for the time you spent speaking with Peña, you stood and followed him. 

Peña led you, unsurprisingly, to the records room. 

“If there’s another map in here…” you started, the threat clear in your voice despite the clear lack of concern on Peña’s face.

“No, but I did bring you a present,” he told you. When you gave him a suspicious look, he gestured you through the door to the room. 

True to Peña’s word, there was no map on the table in the center of the room. But that table was also empty, and you frowned until you heard someone ask, “What is this?”

You turned, already smiling when your eyes locked with Horacio Carrillo’s. Since you weren’t sure what to say, you settled for a nod in his direction.

Carrillo returned the nod stiffly, though his brown eyes were warm. “What are you doing, Peña? You said you needed me to consult on something.”

“I do,” Peña agreed. “I needed you to tell me what the two of you are doing so I don’t give anything away.”

You arched a brow, glancing at Carrillo as you did. You had been under the impression that Peña knew everything that had happened between you and the handsome colonel.

“What makes you think something is going on between us?” you asked, trying to head off his suspicion with a challenge.

Peña gave you the most disbelieving look you had ever seen. “Yeah. If I don’t believe that line, there’s a good chance no one else will, either. You need to come up with an official story and stick with it.”

Carrillo growled something in Spanish, but it was too low and too rapid for you to catch what it was. In any case, Peña rolled his eyes and shook his head at you both. 

“I’ll give you some time to figure it out,” he offered, stepping out of the records room. You made as if to follow him, but the door closed with a sharp snap. 

Feeling a little sheepish, you turned to Carrillo, who still hadn’t moved. “I, uh… I guess he meant he’ll give us a few minutes, not a few days.”

“Seems that way,” Carrillo agreed with a shrug. 

You nodded slowly, feeling uncertain. It had seemed like you and Carrillo left things in a good place after you had hooked up on Monday evening. He had slept in your tent, snuck out in the gray pre-dawn morning, and you had been casually near each other ever since. He had been more laid-back and talkative when you were dealing with the Magdalena River caves. He had even smiled at you once!

But, when you looked at things in the logical light of day, you had to admit that you hadn’t made any further plans. Sleeping together could have been a one-time thing, a way to relieve some tension or make the most out of a comparative lack of supervision in the field. Just because you couldn’t remember the last time you had cuddled after a one-night stand didn’t mean that it never happened for anyone. 

And that left you with no idea of how to proceed with Carrillo. 

For lack of anything else to do, you occupied yourself with the table in the center of the room. As you had previously noted, there was no map on it, but you wiped some theoretical dust from its surface before you hopped up to sit on it. 

When you looked back at Carrillo, the coronel was watching you. For the first time since you had seen him that day, he was smiling. Well, almost. He looked less severe than he had the other times you had seen him. 

“Good morning,” you greeted with a smile. 

“It’s almost noon,” he noted, taking a step toward the table. 

You shrugged. “Yeah, but this is the first time we’ve spoken all day. I figured I would start from the beginning.”

“Ah,” Carrillo said, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Buenas días, then.”

You aimed another smile in his direction before you focused on your own feet. The toe of each shoe came briefly into view, then disappeared as you swung your legs back and forth. 

“Why-” Carrillo’s sudden question cut off before you could hope to guess the rest and you looked at him. He folded his arms behind his back, straightening his posture and letting his expression settle into its usual stern lines. In a moment, he had returned to the tightly buttoned officer you had known him to be. “Are you upset with me?”

“Upset?” you repeated, bewildered. “Why would I be upset with you?” 

“Because this…” The explanation trailed off into nothing as Carrillo gestured back and forth between you. “Why is this so uncomfortable?”

You laughed at that. It was loud in the small room, and you were thankful for the file-bearing shelves that lined every wall. At least they dampened the sound and prevented any echoes. Come to think of it, that was probably why people misbehaved in the records room…

A movement from Carrillo pulled your attention back to the moment and your breath caught when you saw him truly smiling. You returned it gladly. “I’m not sure, but it is a weird situation. Maybe we should have planned a little better.”

“If you were not prepared yesterday, the best day to prepare is today,” Carrillo said. He grimaced a moment later. “That sounds better in Spanish. It seems that we should have a conversation.” 

You nodded, slipping down from the table in favor of sitting in an actual chair. You gestured for Carrillo to do the same. “Do you want to start?” 

“I can if you prefer,” he agreed. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Carrillo started, “I feel I should apologize.” 

Your heart dropped. You were prepared to hear that Carrillo didn’t want to start a relationship with you, but you hadn’t even thought to worry about him regretting your night together. It was something you really didn’t want to hear. “No need. Please.”

He frowned. “I think there is a need. I treated you terribly.”

“No, you were wonderful!” you refuted. “You were much kinder than I expected.”

‘Kind’ wasn’t a compliment you thought most men would enjoy about their skills in the bedroom, but you were too flustered to be anything other than honest. 

Carrillo was outright scowling by that point. “Kind? I’ve done nothing but insult and belittle you since we met. I even influenced my men to be suspicious of you. You have a very strange idea of kindness.”

When that sank in, you abruptly felt so much lighter that you could have been floating. You laughed aloud, the situation even funnier when Carrillo started looking as if you had broken into a jig. “I thought you were talking about the Magdalena River bust!” 

“I was, at least partially. I treated you poorly and you deserved better. You deserve better now. But I don’t think I can offer it.” 

“Horacio…” you protested, voice soft and fearful. You were exhausted from trying to keep up with the conversation, and the longer it continued, the more suspicious you were that he just needed to be rid of his guilt.

“The men of the Search Bloc distrust you,” Carrillo said, looking unreasonably bothered by his own statement. “I cannot convince them that you are trustworthy without explaining why, and that would tell them too much. I do not want to risk you.” 

“I’m confused,” you admitted, reaching out and snagging his hand. Carrillo halted instantly, watching you with wary eyes. “Are you saying you don’t want to be together? Or you do and you just want to keep it secret? Or you do and you want to tell your men so they don’t think I’m a spy anymore? Or-”

“Yes, yes, I spoke too much,” Carrillo said irritably. He scrubbed a hand over his head, squeezing his fingers around yours. "But you deserve better than me. You deserve better than all of this."

"All of this?" You frowned. "Carrillo, you remember that I signed up for 'all of this', right? I don't care how you treated me in the past. I don't care if your men are suspicious of me now. I don't care that Steve fucking Murphy keeps reorganizing the pictures on my desk every time I turn around. I asked to be assigned here, because I think I can do some good in this fight. There are times when it isn't fair, it isn't fun, it isn't pleasant. But you-" 

You broke off, suddenly aware that you were rambling. "Even if you never want to see me again, you were a bright spot in a very shadowed place, Coronel. I appreciate that."

"This sounds like goodbye," Carrillo noted. He seemed almost calm about it, but a muscle twitching in his cheek hinted at his true feelings.

“Is…” you trailed off, frowning. When you spoke again, your voice was softer, like you were asking him something in private despite the lack of other people in the room. “Is that not what you were working toward? I thought you were trying to let me down easy.” 

If the situation weren’t so tense, you would laugh at the rapid procession of looks on Carrillo’s face. His eyebrows shot up, lips parting with his slackened jaw. An instant later, his brows crashed down in confusion and those lips closed once more before forming into a scowl. 

You tried to cut his displeasure short. “I’m sorry if I misunderstood-”

“It seems to me that we are speaking in circles,” Carrillo said, taking a deliberate step toward you. You watched, wide-eyed, as he took another and another, steadily approaching until he was standing close enough that you could have touched him with an outstretched hand. “Let me be clear, cariña: I want to be with you. I want it very badly.” 

A warm delight tickled the space behind your ribcage and your reply started forming even as you realized Carrillo wasn’t done.

The only reason I would not be with you is if you felt that I have treated you too poorly in the past.” The colonel grimaced. “And you would not be wrong about that. But if you can forgive me, I will work as long as it takes to earn that forgiveness…”

You let him finish what he was saying, if only because you wanted to avoid any possible confusion after everything that had already happened. When you were sure of it, you touched his arms, sliding your hands downward until they were holding his. You were both smiling by that point, and when you pulled him closer, your kiss was sweet and lingering. 

“You haven’t done anything to need forgiveness,” you assured him. “I understand how it looked that I watched you all the time. I didn’t mean to be suspicious, but I wasn’t brave enough to start a conversation with you.”

“So does that mean-?” Carrillo started. 

You were too eager to let him finish asking the question, especially since you had forgotten to return the sentiment of wanting to be together. “Yes, I definitely want to be with you, coronel. Horacio.” 

Carrillo’s full lips tipped up at the edges, clearly pleased that you had used his first name. The last time you had done that was when you hid on the boat before your departure at Puerto Triunfo. You and the handsome coronel had stolen a moment for kisses and tenderness before you split up for the trip back to the Search Bloc’s headquarters. 

“That’s a cause for celebration, cariña,” he told you, hands settling in the curve of your waist as he stepped between your legs. You tipped your head back eagerly for him, greedily accepting the deeper kiss he pressed to your lips. “Let me make dinner for you tonight.” 

“That- mmm - sounds…” It was difficult to think with the little brushes of lips and tongue over your jaw and neck, but you tried to anyway. “Impossible.”

Carrillo pulled back, looking mildly put out. You patted his chest. “I’m sorry, Horacio. That trip last week put me way behind on work. I’m going to have to stay late tonight just to catch up.”

“I understand,” he told you, though he was clearly reluctant. “I admire your dedication to your work. I always have.” 

The skepticism must have shown as clearly in your expression as it did in your mind, because he gave a wry sort of chuckle. “Yes, even when I thought you were a spy. I also thought you were good at your job and put a great deal of time into it. Of course, I also thought your conclusions were only correct because you were working with Escobar…”

You gasped - playfully, but with a smidge of actual offense in it. “That’s rude, coronel. I’m very good at what I do, no inside information necessary.” 

“I know that now.” Carrillo’s eyes were warm as his thumb brushed over the curve of your cheek. “You are brilliant. Which is why I find it so frustrating that this office is determined to give credit for the Magdalena River bust to Peña and I. It was your theory that made us look for caverns, then your eyes that helped us find the drugs.”

It was a common piece of wisdom that a sense of humility never helped anyone get ahead in any government agency, especially the DEA. You knew this, but you couldn’t help the bashful duck of your head at Carrillo’s praise. “You guys would have figured it out eventually.” 

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But not without more time and a great deal more money sank into it than anyone would be happy with us spending. You deserve the recognition.”

“I don’t want it,” you insisted. “Honestly, I think people congratulating me would feel like I was taking credit for something I didn’t really do. I mean, I did do it, but only with a team of people more qualified than I am to keep us safe in the field-”

“That is the job, cariña,” he pointed out. “None of us do anything alone. But I will respect your choice. Unless you decide to tell people of your contributions, I will keep quiet.” 

“Sounds like you have made some choices,” Peña said, stepping back into the records room. “But I just caught the tail end. Do you need some more time? ‘Keeping quiet’ could go either way.”

You shook your head at him while Carrillo gave a dark glare. You had seen Peña angry and impatient and flirty and wheedling. As far as you were concerned, those comprised the entirety of the Javier Peña emotional spectrum. But this… this was teasing. This was friendly. 

The shit-eating grin on his face only cemented that theory in your mind. Peña was still smiling as he said, “That didn’t sound like a ‘no’...”

You said ‘no’ reflexively, but Carrillo opted to answer with a blistering flood of Spanish. You didn’t understand any of it, but you were good enough with context clues to know that none of it had been complimentary.

Peña replied with a suggestion lascivious enough to make your face hot, which irritated you and you brushed past him. “I need to get back to work if I’m going to go home tonight.” 

“Aww, planning to go to your own home? By yourself?” Peña asked, tone full of faux disbelief. “I thought better of you, coronel.” 

“Peña,” you reprimanded, whirling in place to catch the exaggerated wink he tossed toward you and Carrillo. 

“I could kill him, cariña,” Carrillo said, not low enough that Peña couldn't hear. “We would have to run, but the problem would be gone.” 

“Pretend you wouldn’t miss me,” Peña told him confidently. 

“He’s very obvious, Horacio,” you murmured. “I don’t want everyone to know about us. Not unless we decide it.” 

Carrillo’s eyes were very dark as he asked, “What if they already know?” 

The question sent a nervous tingle through you. It would be nice to be open about your regard for the handsome coronel, but your relationship was so new and it would almost certainly complicate both of your jobs. The trade was simply not worth it.

So you leaned to the side, peering around him to Peña. “Does anyone suspect anything?”

“How should I know?” Peña asked, leaning comfortably against the wall. 

“You’re the prince of the office gossip chain,” you said, patting Carrillo’s arm so he would remember who the king was. “I think you know exactly what everyone out there thinks.” 

Peña eyed you for a moment, mouth pursing below his mustache, then gave a reluctant nod. “People have noticed that you’re both missing, but no one thinks you’re spending time together.”

“We have been subtle,” Carrillo told you, idly straightening the collar of your blazer. 

“No, not at all,” Peña argued. “People just know how much you dislike her, so they don’t read into anything.” 

Carrillo winced, then winced again when you gave a loud laugh. “Again, I thought you were a spy.” 

You nodded mutely, fingers pressed to your lips as if reminding yourself to keep quiet. Peña added, “Your men think the same thing.” 

“You’ve been so helpful today, Peña,” Carrillo said, his casual tone falling short of covering the venom that dripped from the words. “Remind me to repay the favor next time you meet with a pretty informant.” 

“Okay, I’m going back to work now,” you said again. “I mean it this time.”

The feeling of Carrillo’s thumb brushing over your knuckles was enough to weaken your resolve, but the stack of photographs on your desk was calling too loudly to ignore. With a final regretful glance back at the colonel, you returned to your desk.

---

Author's Note - as usual with Fanfic February fics, there will be a second part to this. And also as usual, the second part will be spicy.

Thanks for reading!

[the-hinky-panda]

Reparar (Los Regalos Series)

So this is technically the last part of Los Regalos but I'm not completely opposed to revisiting these two again.

Pairing: Colonel Horacio Carrillo x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You’re new to Colombia and the Search Bloc, loaned out by the Army to help sift through the wiretaps, sat phone calls, and other communications. After figuring out that it was Colonel Carrillo who was leaving little gifts, the two of you start seeing each other. But after an assassination attempt that leaves you wounded, you two decide to act like you've broken up. However, things are never as easy as they seem.

He wakes up with a splitting headache and the taste of ash in his mouth. Horacio buries his head into his pillow and prays the throbbing in his temples and the vertigo lessens enough for him to remember exactly what happened last night. Grief still presses heavily between his shoulder blades as soberness churns his stomach. How much whiskey did he go through? What happened last night exactly? 

It comes to him in flashes. He had spent time looking at the gifts and offerings that you had been sneaking into his office. He knew from the side-eyed looks between Peña, Murphy, and Trujillo, you had some help with this little covert operation. He vaguely remembers the things, but what did he do with them? A box, he put them in a box. Then what? 

Oh God. Oh God. He went to your apartment. He knocked on the door. He left the box. Oh God, no. He left the box. The horror of you finding your kind gifts dumped in front of your door is enough to rouse him out of bed. He moves too quickly and instantly regrets it as his head splits apart and his stomach roils. He has to sit there with his head between his knees until the pain decreases and his stomach settles. 

While he waits for that, more pieces of last night come to him. The knock at the door. Him not caring to even pick up his gun as he approached the front door. Opening the door and seeing your face, your red-rimmed eyes, and the sad downturn of your mouth. You brought the box back. You brought the gifts back to him. That makes his stomach flip again. 

He has to find you. You were here last night, he has a vague memory of you sleeping here. He takes in a couple deep breaths and stands up from the bed. The room spins but after a moment it slows to manageable sway. He moves from his bedroom and leans on the doorway of the small guest room down the hall. If you had slept there, he couldn’t tell. The bed is neatly made, no signs of clothes or shoes tossed over a chair or laying on the dresser. He rests his head against the doorframe and tries to remember if you were really here last night or if he’s just made that up. 

There’s a beep that comes from downstairs. Three short beeps followed by a long one. The coffee pot. Someone made coffee. You must have made coffee. He makes his way downstairs, practically leaning against the wall to help balance himself. He’s too hungover to be quiet which is good since his tongue feels like sandpaper and he’s not sure he could call your name, to warn you of his now conscious presence. 

But when he reaches the first floor of the house, he doesn’t hear you at all. He doesn’t smell your light perfume. In fact, he doesn’t sense anyone at all. The curtains are all drawn, the rooms pleasantly dark. There is still the scent of coffee hanging in the air and it doesn’t twist his stomach. He ventures into the kitchen and finds two cups sitting neatly in the sink. Did he drink so much that he forgot having coffee with you at some point this morning? Wait, is it morning? He looks up at the clock on the wall and sees it’s almost three-thirty in the afternoon. 

You’re not here. You’ve given up on him. And he can’t be angry with you about that. He was the one that kept pushing you away, returning your things in the middle of the night. He’s the one that drank himself into oblivion last night and has no memory of what he said or did. Maybe you’re off crying on Javier’s shoulder now. The single DEA agent had a thing for damsels in distress and what Horacio has put you through could certainly qualify as distress. 

He hears the front door open, the loud noise of people walking past and a car horn make him wince before the door quietly shuts and stillness returns. There’s only a handful of people with keys to his home, only a handful of people he trusts with access to his home. He hears a soft sigh being released, a delicate sniff, before a couple clacks of shoes reverberate through the darkened home. He steps back into the dining room which gives him a direct line of sight to the front door. 

He almost doesn’t recognize you. He’s never seen you in uniform before. Gone are your sneakers and jeans and linen shirts. You’re in a starched dress shirt, buttoned all the way up to your throat, a fitted olive colored jacket, and straight pencil skirt. You’re in the middle of taking off the plain black pumps so you can walk whisper-like through the house. Your hair is pulled back into a neat bun at the base of your neck while a military hat is perched on your head. 

“Horacio?” 

It takes him a couple tries before he can force sound out of his mouth. “Querida.” 

You still completely. Your hands fidget with something, gloves, as you wait for him to say something else. When he doesn’t, you reach for your shoes again. “I can leave. I’m sorry.” 

“No.” It comes out as a command, like he’s standing in front of an inept cadet. “I mean, don’t go. Please.” 

You breathe a slow sigh of relief, a shaky smile crosses your face as you go back to slipping off your shoes. “Okay. If you want to take a shower, I’ll make some more coffee.” 

He nods mutely, wondering just how awful he must look for you to suggest that to him. He’s still trying to piece together what exactly happened last night, what was said, what wasn’t said, but his head is still pounding and thoughts won’t complete themselves. You pass by him on the way to the kitchen and slip your hand into his, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

“We’ll talk when you come back downstairs.” And you smile, truly smile. After everything he has put you through, you smile at him. “It’ll be okay, Horacio.” 

The world stops spinning. The ground levels out. You tell him it’s going to be okay and he believes you. 

***

You have no idea if he’s going to be okay. You’re so used to seeing Horacio being strong, immovable, and in complete control of whatever chaotic shitstorm is currently surrounding Search Bloc. He’s been made of granite for as long as you’ve known him. But now you can see the cracks in the stone, the weak points, and it scares you. It’s a good reminder though, that he is human, he is just a man under the uniform, muscles, and temper. 

This morning has been an eye-opening experience for you. Shortly after you had gotten up and made the bed in the guest room, someone had rung the doorbell. You answered it only because you saw it was the thin, well-dressed woman you had seen at Search Bloc a couple months before. Julianna, you remembered, was her name. You opened the door to her, introduced yourself and invited her inside. Surprisingly, she accepted the invitation. Not sure what to do next, you offered to make some coffee and she accepted that invitation as well. 

The two of you had sat at the small kitchen table and she had poured out her grief at her current situation. Even though Horacio had been horribly drunk, he had managed to tell you everything Julianna was now saying. She had come over to collect Horacio so that they could break the news together to the two children. You tell her that Horacio isn’t feeling well, not exactly a lie, that is why you’ve come over to check on him. But the task that she has been handed is a heavy one so you offer to go home, shower, get into uniform, and complete the task yourself if she’s agreeable. She grabbed ahold of your hands so tightly your knuckles are still slightly sore from the desperation in her grip. 

You have no idea how people can make a living out of having to inform families that their loved one isn’t coming home anymore. Having to look into the innocent eyes of two children and tell them that their father won’t ever walk through the door again, tuck them into bed, be there for milestones, was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. You had kept it together during the delivering of the news, the goodbye with Julianna and the parting hug you gave her before returning to Horacio’s home. But it’s as you're emptying the coffee pot and refilling it that the tears do come. This is how Horacio finds you a few minutes later, sobbing over fresh coffee grounds in the kitchen. He takes over for you, completing the preparation and turning on the coffee pot before directing his attention to you.

“Querida.” 

The term of endearment is said with such sadness but understanding. He hesitantly slips his arms around you and you immediately mold yourself against him. You bury your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder, you inhale the fresh scent of soap and aftershave. He smells like himself now, no longer of whiskey and despair, and you try to get even closer to him by pressing your hands into his broad shoulder blades. He feels so solid, strong and protective. 

 Julianna has lost this particular kind of comfort. You have not and you’re determined to not waste any moment that you’re given with him now. You try to stop your tears, or at least slow them down, and take in a deep breath. “I’m sor-” 

“No, mi amor,” he cuts you off. “I’m sorry.” 

Mi amor. Hearing that familiar term of endearment only creates more tears. Could this entire debacle be redeemed? You remember how it felt last night when he reached for you, pulled you close, buried his face against your stomach and told you that he loved you. You remember starting to say it back to him. You had cried yourself to sleep last night, believing that the moment of confessing your feelings has been lost. 

Maybe…maybe it hasn’t been. 

“Te amo, Horacio.” 

You feel his arms tighten around you as his lips brush against your ear. “Te amo, mi vida,  mi alma.” 

[bullet-prooflove]

"Can't we try again?"

(you can choose a happy ending or not, and if you want it to be Duarte or Carrillo) 😅❤️

It’s been months since Horacio last laid eyes on you, not since the night you’d walked out of his apartment, slamming the door so hard his bookshelves had practically vibrated off the wall. It’s his fault, he’d instigated the argument. He’d been angry, exhausted, vengeful. Escobar had slipped through his fingers by a hair’s breadth and that rage, it simmered inside him, festering until he could think about was Pablo’s smiling face as he’d spat down the phone.

“Until next time Colonel.”

The things he’d said to you that night, each one was designed to cut you, to rip you apart, tear you to pieces. It had worked too because you’d disappeared after that.

Reassigned to a different taskforce, Pena had told him.

Her choice? He had asked and the other man shrugged his shoulders.

Now you’re back.

For a moment it’s like old times, you’re sitting at the same desk, scrawling down notes. As usual you’re the last one out, Murphy’s gone home to his wife and Pena…

He doesn’t want to think about who or what Pena is doing.

He glances up at you again, toying with the pen between his fingers. He can’t stand this No Man’s Land the two of you are in.

You don’t look up when he leaves his office, not even when he sits down in the chair alongside of your desk. You just continue scribbling in that yellow legal pad of yours, the pen etching the ink into the paper.

“Mi querida…” He says quietly, and you pause for a second, your shoulders stiffening.

He says it again and you set down your pen, tilting your head up to look at him.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You inform him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, his hand coming to rest upon yours. “I didn’t mean the things I said…”

“I don’t believe you.” You say, but you don’t pull away instead you lean forward, your face inches from his.

For a second he thinks you’re going to kiss him but then he recognises the look in your eyes, the darkness in them. Something happened to you while you were away, something bad and it killed that light, the one that used to burn so fucking bright.

“Do you see it?” You ask him, grasping his chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. “Do you see what you did to me?”

The anguish it courses through his body, violent and devastating like the sea in the midst of a storm. Someone hurt you, someone did something so fucking heinous that it broke something inside of you and Horacio wants to kill them. He wants to wrap his hands around their throat and choke the life right out of them, he wants to feel their last breath as their eyes bulge and their lips turn purple.

“I hate you Horacio.” You tell him, your voice breaking as you look into his eyes. “I fucking hate you.”