I had someone inquire about a masterlist recently but minus a few blurbs from prompts this is really my only current work. I will keep this as a pinned post while I continue to add chapters to this story and update as I go along for now. Thank you again to everyone who has continued to enjoy my ramblings and I hope to have a new chapter available soon :)
AN2: Not beta’ed. We live by the typo and die by the typo, like warriors.
Intel-gathering comes naturally to Colonel Horacio Carrillo. It’s an integral part of his job, as head of the Search Bloc, for one thing.
Arguably, though, that part of his job comes naturally to him because of his childhood. A middle child, sandwiched between a golden child older brother and a much-spoiled younger sister, Horacio Carrillo long ago learned the value of sitting back quietly and watching. And learning.
To be fair, he also learned long ago that intel-gathering can be a passive art. People want to be known, to be understood. People will volunteer all sorts of information about themselves: mundane facts, dark secrets. He’s found that if he lets silence build, say, between him and an unwary suspect, the suspect will oftentimes out themselves with very few questions from him.
Pairing:Colonel Carrillo x Reader (but this is post Mariposa, after Carrillo has been killed)
Rating:PG
Summary: Trujillo tries to deal with his own grief by remembering the good times.
Author’s Note: This is kind of pseudo-epilogue for Mariposa.
Trujillo hasn’t been in your apartment in two months.
He remembers when it used to be a weekly thing, stopping in to pick up intel, a file, or just have a drink with you and Carrillo. He had been to the apartment after your attack, letting himself in to water your plants, clean out your refrigerator from the expired food from your stay in the hospital, and making sure you had fresh food for when you were released. He brought homemade dishes from his family and some other families from Search Bloc that were aware of your existence but not identity. There had been flowers and other meals sitting outside your door from parents and students that he tended to as well.
This is what the survivors do, he tells himself. This is what picking up the pieces looks like. This is what moving forward is supposed to be.
This may be what surviving looks like, but all he feels is numb.
Request by @supersanelyromantic: Hey I have a request for a fic in the 12AM,1AM universe where Carrillo who is generally in a stressful environment gets to have some sense of contentment and serenity in the wee hours of the night in the reader’s arms swaying/slow dancing and being soft while listening to a romantic record of that time maybe!!
Warnings: 18+, Horacio being just the softest most tired little man
Word Count: 1k
A/N: The AM/PM Universe that we’ve constructed for Carrillo is like, top-tier comfort for me at this point in time. I hope you enjoy the softness! xo
There are many words that can describe Colonel Horacio Carrillo. Menacing. Effective. Driven.
The word that best describes him, in his own estimation, is meticulous.
To the casual outsider, that meticulousness may seem the result of being in the national police. Army men tended to that sort of rigid mindset: perfectly pressed uniforms, painfully neat grooming. But Carrillo has always been like this, even as a child. Where other boys were haphazard and messy, he was orderly. His plastic army men in a perfect straight line on his desk, his books flush with the edge of his bookshelf.
His older brother used to tease him, call him abuelita, until the younger Carrillo socked him and bloodied his nose to stop the teasing.
Summary:This is a four-part prequel to “Dustland Fairytale.” There is no Javier Pena x Reader in this fic; it is strictly a Carrillo x Reader fic. You’re a CIA informant that is trying to build the trust between the newly formed Search Bloc and the CIA/DEA. You just never imagined that falling in love with Colonel Horacio Carrillo was going to be part of the deal.
Warnings: Oh boy, lots of warnings. First 18+ only, DNI. If it was in Narcos, it will most likely be mentioned in here: gun violence, mentions of rape (what happened to Helena), characters dying, grief. Also, Carrillo is married so the relationship between him and the reader is an extramarital affair. This does not have a happy ending.
You wake up in the early hours of the morning. The pale, orange light of sunrise bleeds through the curtains of the bedroom. Horacio is sound asleep on his stomach, an arm thrown out carelessly and draped over your waist. You take a few of these quiet moments to enjoy the view of this man in complete repose. All the tension that lives in his face and frame is nonexistent, and he looks ten years younger. Being able to study him this closely, you notice the threads of silver that are starting to show in his black hair.
Your fingers barely skim across his skin so you don’t wake him up, tracing the lines of his muscles around his shoulder blade, down his bicep, over his elbow, across his forearm and finally down the back of his hand that is laid across your waist. As your fingers slide between his, you realize he’s not wearing his wedding ring.
A/N: I guess I’m doing Writer Wednesday for the first time! I just had to get this down because I am back on my soft Carrillo kick, apparently. Not beta’d, all mistakes are mine. @autumnleaves1991-blog@clydesducktape
Words: 577
Warnings: none, it’s like ridiculously fluffy and self indulgent.
Small Things
You stumbled out of the bedroom, stocking feet dragging over the floor as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. The smell of coffee, strong and dark, had roused you out of bed and you moved slowly towards the promise of caffeine.
Your gaze snagged on the corner of your living room. A scraggly little tree you’d never seen before sat proudly atop an old quilt, a tin foil star crowning it’s sparse top. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from laughing, the sweetness of the gesture settling warmly in your chest.
A/N: Though it’s pretty self explanatory, this is based on the Netflix series, NOT the real people, nor is this an endorsement of the crimes and actions depicted in the series. It’s fiction, pure and simple. This will turn 18+ and NSFW, eventually, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please turn away.
Also, please excuse any anachronisms in the timeline compared to the show. And Carrillo is divorced, with no kids, in this AU.
PART ONE
Mid-July, 1988
—It’s a quiet evening in your apartment in Paris, in the 6ème Arrondissement.
—It’s much nicer than your cramped apartment in Washington D.C. that you were in for a year and a half, up until you moved to Paris 8 months ago, to be a secretary at the Embassy there.
—And before Washington, you had been a secretary for the DEA office in the US Embassy in Bogotá for 3 years.
—Which was your favorite assignment, hands down, despite the cartel violence occurring there.
—You missed your two coworkers the most: Agents Peña and Murphy, with all of their shenanigans around the office.
—“I should really call them sometime,” you think aloud in your apartment, looking out the window onto the street below
—As if the universe heard you, your phone rings
—And when you pick up, it’s one Javier Peña on the other end:
—“Hey, Y/N, how’s it going over in Paris? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Javi greets you
Summary:Continues where part 2 left off, as Reader and Carrillo finally call it a night, leading to smut with all the feelings (because apparently I can’t write one without the other) and some unexpected discoveries for them both.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut with feelings, vaginal fingering, frottage, vaginal sex, power dynamics (including switching), very brief (male) orgasm delay/denial and begging, brief references to canon-typical violence.
Notes: So, apparently I can only update this fic approximately once every 3 months, oops But the final part is here now at least! I also may have listened to Power and Control by Marina and the Diamonds a lot when writing this chapter. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this fic in any capacity since January, it’s been a fun journey taking the story further than I’d originally intended ❤️
Warnings: same as usual but there is some heavy angst in this chapter. Unprotected sex, allusions to oral, p in v sex, minor drug use (do sleeping pills count as drugs?), unintentional self harm.
A/N: this chapter is…really special to me. It’s genuinely my favorite thing that I’ve ever written and all of my love and gratitude for @empress-palpat1ne pushing me to write and publish it. It’s painful and lovely and all of the things that life can be. Also there’s some Spanish towards the end (and the next chapter will be a little Spanish heavy as well. I’m Mexican American but my Spanish isn’t fluent so sorry for any mistakes). I hope you enjoy it as much I do
Storm in the Quiet
You screamed until your throat was raw, until there was no more sound within you and your mind was nothing but a foggy emptiness. Large hands grasped your shoulders and you jerked away as if you’d been burned, but the grip was too strong to shake off. You were pulled out of the doorway you had tried to run through and back against a strong chest. You howled until there was nothing left inside of you, thrashing against the man at your back. Eventually he sank to the floor, collecting you in his arms and making soft shushing sounds against your hair as he held you. You prayed he was wrong, or maybe playing a cruel joke. But Javi wasn’t lying, he wasn’t wrong.
