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jacks-obsessions · 2 years

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How to Bathe Your Dinosaur

Diego x Cupid

Word count: 1,575

CW: none

“Cupid! I want to cuddle!” Diego whined as he pawed at the slightly taller man, who sighed in return. “We can after you take a bath.” Diego did not like this. He and the water had a long and complicated history. None of it was good, so he didn’t exactly like bathing. In fact, he loathed it, so much in fact that it was a battle to get him in it. “I’ll take it with you.” Cupid would use his inherent cuteness against Diego. They stared at each other for a while before Diego caved. Cupid’s puppy dog eyes were too much for him. The two went to the bathroom and undressed. This always made Cupid nervous even if Diego would go on and on about how handsome he is. This would then fluster Cupid and he’d try to hide his face. The two got into the large tub and settled in, Diego in front and Cupid in back, Diego leaning against Cupid as he relaxed. Now the only reason he was resting was that Cupid was there, otherwise, he’d be freaking out. Only Cupid could make him feel safe in the water.

Cupid leaned over and grabbed the shampoo after he had wet Diego's hair and began rubbing it in. As Cupid massaged Diego’s head, he made a noise similar to a chirp. This resulted from his stand. Scary Monsters gave Diego some odd traits, some more bird-like than others. One of those traits was the chirp purr he’d make when he was content. Only Cupid ever heard this because Diego was only ever content with him. Now Cupid loved to use the shampoo to style Diego’s hair, and Diego decided it was rather fun too, so Cupid would style Diego’s hair and then show him in a mirror. It was like a game and they both would use the bubbles to make beards, too. Cupid could bring out Diego’s inner child, make him feel safe, and give him the strength to keep going. “Mm, that feels good.” Diego purred out as he practically melted under Cupid’s touch.

Cupid smiled. Nothing made him happier than knowing Diego was happy and felt safe. Diego was usually very tense and controlled, so seeing him relax and let go of his tough-guy persona is very nice. He continued to chirp and purr as Cupid massaged his shoulders. It was like he was melting the way he relaxed against his boyfriend’s touch. He was very thrilled right now. The soft lighting of the scented candles created a romantic and relaxing atmosphere, the perfect way to wind down after a long day. Both men were relaxed in the warm water as some soft jazz played in the background. Cupid rested his head on Diego’s shoulder and hummed along to the music as the two gently swayed in the tub, the warm water lapping at their bodies and the bubbles coating their skin. As the water turned cold, the two got out and toweled off before changing into some warm pajamas and heading to the bedroom.

Diego flopped down on the king-sized bed. He was so relaxed that some of his stand came out, a few feathers here, a scale there, and most of all his tail was out lazily swaying back and forth. Cupid almost died. The sight was too cute. Diego looked back at him with a pout. “Snuggles?” He questioned as Cupid climbed into bed with him. “Yes snuggles.” Cupid chuckled. His companion was pouty when he didn’t get his quality time. So Cupid climbed into bed beside the dino man. As he did, Diego grabbed him and latched on, pulling him onto the bed and wrapping his tail around Cupid’s legs. Once again making the purr chirp, Diego curled around Cupid. Despite being the smaller of the two Diego was always the big spoon. It was in his nature to protect his mate. “I’m never going to let you go,” Diego mumbled as he nuzzled into Cupid’s hair. “I’m fine with that.” Cupid giggled.

The two fell asleep, and Diego held Cupid the whole time. The two moved around the bed a lot, mainly because Diego moves a lot in his sleep. Diego purrs instead of snoring, and it’s very soothing. That morning Cupid woke up to Diego purring loudly and gripping him against his smaller body, Cupid giggled at this, Diego was clingy when he was in the safety of his own home, and in public but it was more of a display of dominance. Cupid would be stuck there until Diego woke up, so he settled in and thought about what they would have for breakfast. They could have eggs and bacon or they could have a coffee cake with blue berries. There were many other choses too, but Cupid couldn’t think of all of them, he’d have to look through the cookbook. “Morning, luv.” Diego whispered in Cupid’s ear as he snuggled closer. “Morning, are you ready for breakfast?” Cupid asked, as his stomach growled.

“Yeah, ‘m hungry too.” Diego mumbled. The two got out of bed and headed downstairs, as they entered the kitchen, Diego opened the window to let some fresh air and sunlight. Cupid went over to the oven and grabbed a large pan. Diego ate a lot, set it on the stove, and went to the fridge. He grabbed a dozen eggs and put them aside, he then grabbed an onion and a large potato. He also grabbed a pound of sausage, after all that, he cut up the onion, potato, and sausage. Diego tried to swipe the sausage multiple times, even trying to distract Cupid with tiny dinosaurs, but Cupid stayed vigilant. Cupid then put the chopped potatoes and onions in the pan to carmalize while cooking the sausage in another until brown. The smell was amazing, and Diego was practically vibrating as he waited for his meal. He loved whatever Cupid cooked.

After the potatoes and onions were carmalized, Cupid added the eggs. Some of the egg would evaporate so he’d have to add a dozen eggs to keep things balanced. Cupid scrambled the eggs while mixing in the onions and potatoes. All the while monitoring the sausage. Once the sausage was done, Cupid added it to the eggs. Once he was satisfied, Cupid got out some plates and served up the food for him and Diego. Diego can eat like a gentleman, but for Cupid’s cooking, he can’t help but pig out. He added some ‌Worcestershire sauce on his food and ate. He ate like a dinosaur, barely chewing. This was also a result of his stand. Diego’s more feral side comes through when he eats something he likes. Cupid had gotten used to the disturbing display of Diego’s eating. It was now an oddly cute trait of his now.

After Diego finished decimating his food, he looked over at Cupid and grinned. Cupid just smiled back. He’d seen his life flash before his eyes. Now that breakfast was over it was time for Diego’s lounge time, this was where he let his food settle while lying out on the sun porch, even if he was warm-blooded he liked to sun himself while Cupid brushed his hair or played with his feathers when he was in dino form. So off they went to the sun porch, which was like a mini jungle, with all kinds of exotic plants and a bed under the south windows. Diego turned into his dino form and got on the bed, letting Cupid climb on and lay next to him. Cupid loved to play with Diego’s feathers and, for Diego, it was like he was being groomed. The two basked in the sunlight as they enjoyed each other’s company. The sun was warm on Cupid’s face, not too warm but just warm enough. Diego liked it too it felt nice. Another thing Diego liked was Cupid playing with his feathers, carefully smoothing them down and scratching here and there.

After they sunned themselves for a good while they made their way outside to tend to the animals, Diego had farm hands so he didn’t need to lift a finger, but he loved animals so he had fun taking care of them and doing the dirty work. They made their way to the bunny hutch, where Diego’s rabbits were kept, the rabbits in question were Flemish giants and were super friendly. Cupid was like the king of these rabbits, due to how much they liked him. They would always come up to him and wait to be petted, and they expected treats as well. Nothing could describe the bond these fluffy creatures have with Cupid. Sometimes it made Diego jealous, he wanted scratches and treats too! But in the end, Diego got Cupid all to himself, so he could flaunt that around to those stupid rabbits.

“Diego, are you jealous?” Cupid teased as Diego glared at the large rabbit in his arms. “NO! No..” He grumbled as he paced over to his lover and plopped down next to him. Still pouting I might add, Diego was a bit of a grump when he was ignored. Cupid leaned over and kissed Diego on the cheek, causing Diego’s face to burst into feathers. Another part of his stand’s ability was when he was embarrassed or caught off guard his feathers would pop out. “No…” He was indeed jealous. “Heh, don’t worry I’m all yours.”

#diego x oc #jjba x oc #jjba x reader #jacks commissions

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onmyyan · 5 months

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Diego Dumas

Spoiler alert he's a werewolf

Was bitten, not born, and he kinda loves being a monster.

He used to feel all angsty about his condition, that is until he used it to get rid of a bastard who in his mind, committed a great sin against you and your relationship (some dude made you giggle which he took as a threat), now he's all for it.

Likes to scent you even though you can't smell it, he can.

And boy oh boy does he like it when he's the only thing he can smell on you.

But that means God help you if you dare to come home smelling like someone else, will pitch the biggest fit.

Can shift on command, has been afflicted since he was 18 so he's had a lotta practice on getting this thing under control.

Hence the scarring, but if you ask him he'll just say he's clumsy.

Age 24 this big boy stands at a tall 6'5

Scary dog privilege goes without saying.

Bites to give affection

Please bite him back

Favorite color is that pale blue the sky is when the sun is first coming up.

Works as a security guard for a small plaza in your town, keeping little old ladies safe and all that, his stature is enough to stop most would be criminals but if someone tries him he's more than happy to bare his teeth.

Accidental flirt, he makes really intense eye contact when he speaks to people, that paired with his warm baritone voice leaves mf's flustered.

Smells faintly of campfire and the woods, always has dirt on his shoes.

Would walk around barefoot if he could.

Please pretty please pet this mf's hair.. he will fall apart in your lap.

Protective/delulu yandere, in his brain y'all are basically married, so ofc he's gonna glare at the UPS guy until he's too freaked out and leaves your package by the driveway

Don't worry he'll go get it

Kinda just inserts himself in your life, but he's so smooth with it, it's hard to stay mad

One second he's some hot dude you see around town the next thing you know he's in your house raiding your fridge and complaining about your snack selection.

Huge foodie, something about shifting makes him hungry, he eats like he's filming a mukbang

Surprisingly funny for such a stoic looking fucker

Has a dry wit and he can come off as blunt or rude but it's just his tizzim' (samebro)

Outdoorsy and handy

In his dream life y'all live in a secluded cabin in the thick woods where the only person with access to you was him

If you're in the dark about his condition he'll keep you in the dark as long as possible but it's hard not to know when he's basically a doberman that got turned into a man

Extremely loving and warm, likes to bear hug you when y'all sleep, unless you got a queen sized bed he will take up the entire thing.

His socks are always mix matched

Likes keeping a braid in his hair, especially if you're the person braiding it.

Has binged the Twilights with you and has a personal beef with Jacob

Radiates heat like a mf, even in his human form he runs hot as hell, like to keep a window open at night but don't worry, getting cold isn't possible with him next to you.

Likes baggy clothes because he's big.

When he gets real man, like real mad his nails grow into claws, has scars on his palms from clenching his fist too hard.

His eyes flash with hints of yellow when he's turning.

All in all this good boy just needs someone to hold his leash.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #Diego Dumas #my ocs #Diego x reader #onmyyan oc's

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 7 months

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Boy Dad Miguel.

Gimmie BoyDad!Miguel.

A Miguel who gets SO excited to have a girl.

Who is over the moon at the news, in tears, decks out the nursery in all pink. A Miguel who calls your belly 'princess' and 'mija' all throughout the pregnancy, buying dresses and bows and the barrettes for the pink bundle of joy. A Miguel who almost passes out the second the nurse says 'Wait, I think it might be a boy-' while you're in delivery

I want a Miguel with a little baby boy who looks JUST like him - with the same curly hair and round brown eyes like Gabriel. And he suddenly has to relearn everything he did with Gabby.

I think that be so cute.

Miguel and a little boy with a temper like him, and Miguel has to help him curb it and calm down sometimes. One of those kids that loves insects and keeps telling Miguel interesting facts about spiders and bugs

Miguel being completely sidelined by having a boy - or even better, multiple boys, in a row. Trying multiple times for a girl and getting MORE BOYS.

And just having to readjust really quickly cause he's so use to having a 'Mija' in the house, that having a mijo - or mijos - seems entirely new to him

And his son grows up to be like him, just as cocky and sarcastic, but so much healthier. A son that wants to be JUST LIKE his dad, and Miguel wanting to be a good role model.

I'd like more BoyDad!Miguel please.

A Miguel loves his son(s) to death, and they're so much like him and he just adores it.

Give him some sons he has the range

#He and Moche have four sons #Diego Mateo Miguel Junior and Gabriel Junior #spiderman #atsv #marvel #spider man #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #Miguel x oc #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #Miguel O'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x oc #Miguel Ohara

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sweetbunanarchy · 5 months

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ME MADWORLD/ANARCHY REIGNS OC!!! MEET DIEGO!!!!!!

MW: A washed up pro wrestler looking for more excitement in his life, he joins DeathWatch only to then turn into a ghoul thanks to the hands of the vampire mistress Elise. Once crossing paths and losing to the man w/ the chainsaw, the sore loser promises to beat him in battle until the day he d!es (which is a long time considering ya know…ghoul…undead…yeah- AR: Just like his black and white counterpart, Diego ends up washed up and wanting more excitement in his life so he turns to bounty hunting, however he lacks the power to do it so he turns to Oinkie and strikes a deal w/ him and obtains some mutant serum. Only issue is...Oink’s gave him a serum w/ gecko dna and now he’s a lizard mutant w/ regenerative powers, making him hard to k!ll. infuriated, Diego goes out of his way to find the man again only to run into Jack and hijinks pretty much happen GDKDNG As for his dynamic w/ Jack, he has a deep admiration for him as a fighter, to the point that he has a crush on him and hoping he has one back so he does whatever he can to impress him!

#bun's drawings #madworld #anarchy reigns #max anarchy #ocs #my ocs #Diego #Jack Cayman #oc x canon

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 5 months

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(Bad, lousy, not good) RENDERS II

Ghost x Riot NSFW

Alex Keller and Farah Karim

Sexy back (Riot)

The touch of your hand

Request: Nora Salter (Infinite Warfare)

Alex Keller for ALEXKELLERCHALLENGE

Request: Soap x Asianf!Reader

Nikolai x Zhar: A Heart Full Of Pity 4

Request: Soap x Black f!Reader

Alex Keller and Farah Karim beach run for ALEXKELLERCHALLENGE

Love in an Elevator

141: someone crashed the jeep and it wasn't me this time

Price playing piano

Riot wearing (only) Ghost's gloves

Price and Heather

Tu mihi mundum clariorem (You make my world brighter)

Request: 141 + König with plus size f!reader

Request: Soap and Latina f!Reader

Request: Ghost and me

Wrong room - Zhar and Riot

Nikolai for the Lastochkas

Petra and Yuri

Nikolai comforting Riot

Campfire kisses (@rileyslibrary fanart)

Request: Tango (Mini MacTavish and Nikolai)

Hospital stay

Jazz club (@sofasoap fanart)

Request: From Eden (@blingblong55 fanart)

Ghost helps Riot decorate the Christmas tree at the base. (@rileyslibrary collab)

OC Reference Sheet: On duty outfit and gear

OC Reference Sheet: Sportswear, swimwear, sleepwear, underwear, lingerie

OC Reference Sheet: Civilian attire, informal and formal

Eyecandy: Makarov

Alejandro Vargas and Rudy Parra

Kapano Vang and Phayvahn 'Nak' Sotsvahn

Mistletoe mancandy series masterlist

Mistletoe mancandy edits per request

Ghost x Riot

OC Reference sheet: facial scar, back tattoo

Ballerina

Request: Rudy x Mini MacTavish

Konig facecanon

141+Riot stupid ads

Lastochkas Christmas

Christmas dinner

New Years Eve

New Years Morning

Bikers

London friend date

Wolf-7 and Watcher-1

La Llorona

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morvantmortuary · 7 months

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sugar high -

(Hector Morvant-Casares x Reader)

summary: Hex invites you along for an afternoon errand.

warnings: brief descriptions of a depressive episode. a shit-ton of fluff. like, syrupy, frothy fluff. I’m not kidding. you watch your teeth.

general: for Spooky Season in the Barrens: apple cider, candy corn, skulls. 🍎💀

I’ll be honest, Hex is not usually my go-to fluff guy, but goddamn if he doesn’t have a whole mushy side when you let him talk a bit.

Any corrections on his Spanish are appreciated - I double-checked everything and tried to stick with Mexican localization, but I’m still learning. :’D

also, I know so much more about the making of calaveras than I did last week. hot damn, those can get involved. any suggestions or needed corrections there (or with any discussion of the holiday) are also appreciated.

reader is as always genderqueer/non-binary (but I stuck to feminine endings for Spanish bc those are what I’m more familiar with, sorry :’D), and I write them as bisexual but that’s not explicitly mentioned here. any tweaks to language so people can have a more seamless experience are always helpful.

okay, hope this helps brighten your day a bit. 🖤

You didn’t even have to look up from your book to know who was calling you, and wasn’t just texting like a normal person.

Without looking up from your page, you reached over and answered with the tap of one finger, then put him on speaker with another. “Who dares?”

“Hey, so, I’m madly in love with you. Do you wanna go out with me? Like, right now, or I’ll die of loneliness?” Hex said it like he was asking about the weather. The mustang’s motor purred in the background, and the faint thud of some dance remix on low drifted through your phone’s speaker like a tinny distant dream.

You smiled, closing your book and setting it beside you on your mattress. “Hmm. That depends.”

“Depends? Ouch. After my very sincere confession?” Hector laughed, making you smile wider. “Depends on what?”

“We-ell.” You stretched the syllable out as you stretched in turn, then collapsed back onto your pillows. “I’m very busy having a lazy afternoon, you see.”

Pale autumn sunlight danced in dappled patterns on your ceiling. You’d successfully managed to change from your pajamas to your comfiest sweats after taking a luxuriously long bath. This was only topped by the fact that you were currently cozy in a bed with a book that had been on your TBR for months, that you’d been swearing you’d get around to, for real this time.

“Is that so?” You heard the click of his turn signal, apparently not given pause by your demurring.

“Yes, and I’ve had it scheduled all week. I simply can’t cancel on myself again,” you explained, waving a hand lazily. “…Unless.”

“Te escucho,” Hex prompted. You heard him tapping on his steering wheel with his index fingers, restless. “Come on, lay it on me.”

“I could only be convinced to cancel on me if you had some really, truly spectacular, showstopping way to sweep me off my feet, that I just had to drop everything for right now.” You fought to keep your tone as serious as possible. “So this better be a really fabulous proposal, whatever comes next. Lots of pressure. Definitely overthink it.”

Hex sucked his teeth audibly, pretending to think. “Damn, I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go grocery shopping with me.”

“I’ll get my jacket.” You slid off your bed, stretching again from where you’d be laying there in a marathon session with your novel. “How close are you?”

He laughed again, low in his throat with that little bit of rasp that felt like his fingers in your hair. A second later, you heard the short beep of a car horn in your driveway.

“Oh, shit. Be right there!” You grabbed your phone off your bed and hustled now for the door to your room.

“Relax, baby, no hurry,” Hector said, his voice echoing slightly in your hallway as you moved. “Maxi just asked me to pick some stuff up for this pre-need thing he’s throwing tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” You slid into your shoes where they were piled by your entry way, and then grabbed your bag for whatever wouldn’t fit in your pockets - charger, headphones, anything you’d want if you headed to his place after. “…What’s a pre-need again?” You topped all this off by pulling on one of Hex’s hoodies that you’d stolen from him ages ago, fitting you comfortably as it did every time. You’d have to sneak it back into his laundry soon, you knew — it was beginning to smell more like you than him.

“Ugh, don’t worry about it.” Hector sighed so loud you could almost hear his eyes rolling. “Basically lots of little old and anxious people start getting antsy and thinking about death in October, because skeletons, so he offers this afternoon thing where he teaches them how to set up all their funeral stuff in advance. Es hella aburrido, which is why he has to offer the free food.”

“Ah. That all makes sense.” You stepped outside and made a point to lock your door. Granted, Hex was the only person you could conceive of who had ever broken in - or who would ever want to break in - but still. Greymoon was a weird town.

One never knew what, exactly, was going to turn up as dusk claimed a larger and larger share of the hours.

You hung up the call as you pulled the passenger door open, leaning over to kiss him before you closed it. “So what all do you serve at a funeral tutorial-thing?”

“Oh, you know— hey,” Hector paused, eyeing your clothes critically before looking at you with theatrical levels of suspicion. “You told me you hadn’t seen that one.”

“What, this?” You feigned innocence, looking down at his hoodie. “Oh, I thought you meant your… other one.” The man had like ten, this wasn’t impossible. “Do you want it back?” You widened your eyes and pouted just the tiniest bit, certain he wouldn’t say no, but wanting to lay it on thick.

“Let me see.” He leaned over abruptly to take an exaggerated sniff of the hood and your hair, making you giggle and try to lean away. “Nah,” he concluded, sitting back up. “That needs another day.”

You were still giggling, adjusting the hood around your shoulders. “Another day for what?”

Hector took the car out of park, looking over his shoulder to pull out of your driveway even though he could do it in his sleep. “It needs time to get that good You smell in there. What is that, anyway? Perfume? Shampoo? Essence of angel?”

“Shut up, corn lord.” You swatted his shoulder, making him smile. “I only wear it as long as it smells like you, anyway.”

“Really? Aw. Sorry about that.” Hector grinned when you laughed again. One of his hands fell to its usual place on your knee as he pulled out onto the main road. “The hell do I smell like, anyway? Film developer and sadness?”

“No.” You intertwined your fingers together and squeezed his hand. “You don’t smell like sadness, Señor Artiste.”

Between Hex’s constant connection to the world after this one, his resulting insomnia, and his… already artistic temperament, you knew he occasionally had to fend off the depression that seemed to run in the Morvant line. Whereas Maxi diverted his restless version into constantly fixing and cleaning, and Rora’s manifested in squalls of anger and verbal venom, Hex’s ennui would lay him out flat for days — occasionally, weeks. You’d spent time before helping him excavate his bed from under piles of unfolded laundry that he’d just been sleeping around, and braiding his hair when he couldn’t find the energy to wash it. You knew he worried about letting you see him like this, and he’d confessed to you once during one of the worse episodes that he was scared it was too much to expect you to handle.

But just like the ghosts he channeled, it would eventually release him from its grip, and he would make a point to be just as sweet to you when it was your turn to deal with your inner demons.

“News to me.” Hector’s smile was a little more subdued now. “So, what, just film developer? Dusty house?”

“No, you smell like… hold on.” You held your free hand to your face, inhaling deeply from your sweater-paw. “You smell like… cinnamon. And coffee with chicory — like there’s any other kind down here.” You took another sniff, taking your time. “And something, like, incense-y? Is that from the viewing room?”

“Oh, nah.” Hex was quiet, and it stretched as you found yourself weirdly waiting for an answer.

He kept his eyes pointedly on the road and cleared his throat. “I keep some of the stuff my ma used to use in my closet. For emergencies.”

You blinked. Hector didn’t bring up that side of the family a lot. He didn’t really bring up either side, if he could avoid it, but definitely not hers. “Your mom burn incense a lot?”

“Yeah. Just for, like… ritual stuff. She was into that sort of thing.” He paused, and when the two of you were stopped at a red light, he lifted his steering hand to smell the hoodie he was currently wearing. “Weird. I’d totally forgotten it was up there.” He held it out and scrutinized it, as if to search for visible traces on the fabric. “Guess I’m just noseblind to it now.” He shrugged, but almost a little too hard. Like he was trying to shake off the idea.

You hesitated as the car pulled forward again, wanting to respect a sensitive topic, but still curious. “…What qualifies as an ‘incense emergency’?”

“Oh, the usual. One of the ghosts in the House gets too full of itself after a seance. Rora fucks up another taxidermy resurrection. Maxi gets a body for restoration that’s been in a car for a week.” He winked at you when you shuddered at the thought. “Any of the very sexy circumstances where you’d rather smell like something burning, or burning something beats something else in supernatural Rock-Paper-Scissors.”

“Yikes. I’ll keep that in mind.” There were a million more questions about it on the tip of your tongue, but you kept them in check as he parked in front of the smaller grocery store in town — the one that had the more unusual finds, depending on the season.

You were always slightly amazed at how he managed to pull the mustang in between some of the ridiculously large trucks that populated most Greymoon parking lots. Somehow, he always found a convenient spot for his little black car. Like magic, if magic could be used for something so mundane.

As the two of you got out, there was still the slightest shadow on his face as he closed his door. “So does that not, like, bother you?” When you gave him a confused look as you closed your own, he nodded to the hoodie. “I’ve had it in my closet forever; it must smell pretty strong.”

“Oh! No.” You circled around and wound your fingers through his again as he locked the car. “I like it, actually.” As the two of you headed inside, you found yourself swinging your hands together like a little kid; you were determined to lighten the mood back up to what it had been. “It’s layered with so much other stuff — your cafe con leche, your detergent, your developer. Your beard oil,” you added, which made him laugh sheepishly as the two of you passed through the automatic doors. “It just smells… I don’t know.” You racked your brain for the word. “Safe? Yeah.” You nodded. “You smell like home to me, you know? Now.” You wanted to keep talking, distract him from that earlier doubt with your current task. You scanned the aisles. “Do you have a list, or—“

You had to fight not to stumble when you were still walking and realized Hector wasn’t.

When you turned to check on him, he was looking at you with such soft, sincere eyes, you almost forgot the two of you had come to a stop next to a cluster of shopping carts.

Quietly, he lifted your intertwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of yours with a sweetness that seemed all the more so in his silence.

You couldn’t look away, your own tongue once again tied.

It was one of those moments that he made you feel like you were the only two people left in the world.

“…’Shut up, corn lord,’” he echoed at last, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched you over your own knuckles.

“You shut up, whatever.” You felt your face grow warm in a way that had nothing to do with the indoor heating against the October chill, and stuck your tongue out at him. “You know what I’m saying.”

“I do. But I still like it when you say it.” He winked at you again, and this time there was a trace of the casual cockiness you’d seen when the two of you had first started flirting.

The difference was that now, you knew it was a front. Hex’s confidence was low key when it was genuine — a quiet, unflappable certainty.

He only played slick when how much he actually cared could overwhelm him entirely.

“I really mean it, Hex,” you protested quietly, squeezing his hand. “You have to know that by now.”

“And take that sweet shit for granted? Qué va.” But he still took his time letting go of you.

He sighed as he had over the phone, back to pretending this was a chore. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” He shoved a hand in a pocket of his own hoodie and pulled out his phone. With a couple of taps, he pulled up what looked like a text chain — you could see “pinche maxi” as the contact, followed by three skull emojis. “Got the list.”

You muffled a laugh, not wanting to be caught snooping. “Basket or cart?”

“The hell are you talking about?” Hector jokingly looked at you like you were crazy, before nodding pointedly at something ahead of you. “This is absolutely a cart situation, Bonita, come on. Eyes on the prize.”

Puzzled, you followed his gaze - and grinned, realizing exactly why he’d picked this store.

The Halloween candy display on the far side of the room was massive… but the stock floor was blessedly deserted.

You and Hex whizzed across the vacant produce section — taking turns balancing on the cart and pushing the other person — with only a brief pause to pick up a pre-cut veggie tray.

“There,” he said, before hastily checking off multiple items on the list.

You looked from the list to the tray, positive you’d seen ‘carrots,’ ‘celery,’ ‘cherry tomatoes’ as separate items. “Yeah, that has those.”

“Maxi’s going to complain and say he could’ve done it all himself,” Hector sighed, placing it carefully in the cart. “But he forgets how fucking picky he gets about setting up the extra chairs and the projector in the parlor, and stuff. That, plus having to cut everything just-so and arrange it on his little crudité board? He wouldn’t have time.”

You shrugged. “He can still put it all on the board if he wants to. It’s not like they’re gonna know.”

“That’s the spirit.” Hector snapped and pointed at you. “Primo needs to learn about artfully half-assing stuff. He takes all this pointless detail shit too seriously.” He paused to turn back and pick up a similarly packaged collection of cut fruit. “See? Boom. He didn’t even have those on the list; I’m just that thoughtful.”

“Clearly.” You couldn’t resist a smile. “Okay, so what else?”

“Cheese,” Hector said, as if this were obvious. “You always gotta feed grief with cheese.”

“But I thought this was for planning their own stuff?”

“It is, but have you seen how expensive shit is lately? They’re going to be grieving their wallets.” Hector pulled the cart behind him towards the dairy section with you balanced behind the handle. “You thought groceries were bad, you should see getting buried.”

“But isn’t your cousin on that whole...” You squinted as you tried to remember, gesturing vaguely. “Somthing-something against funeral poverty?”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean Louisiana isn’t still broke as shit. I swear to god, if it wasn’t for the damn House…” Hector sucked his teeth as he trailed off, staring down at two different cheese plates, then squinted at his phone. “Did he say…? Nah.” Seemingly satisfied, he picked up one of each and set them in the cart.

You raised an eyebrow. “Y’all expecting a big crowd?”

“Oh, hell no. We never get more than a few people at these things.” Hector looked at you, pointing to the plate with the slightly nicer variety. “That one’s for family.” He drew a loop in the air with his finger to rope you into the collective - something that still brought a bubbly warmth to your chest, even after you’d been dating this long. “We’re having that after, let the plebians have the cheap cheese.”

You laughed. “So glad I get to be included in the fancy cheese. I’m honored.”

“Only the fanciest of cheeses for you, mi amor.” Hex leaned up, giving you an obnoxiously loud kiss on the cheek. “Come on, we still need the important stuff.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s—” You were interrupted by your own delighted squeak as Hector rocketed with you and the cart towards the Halloween candy.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d giggled this much while just doing errands with someone. It had to mean something that you could leave your ideal day alone to go out and do something you normally dreaded, but still have more fun than your books could have ever promised.

Hector only just pulled you to a stop before any displays suffered an unfortunate collision, and you hopped off the back of the cart, the two of you sizing up the waiting shelves.

“Maxi said I could get Halloween stuff for this, but he said it had to be ‘tasteful’.” Hector gave the word some lazy finger quotes and rolled his eyes again. “Like I didn’t just see him buy one of those twelve foot skeletons. ‘It’s for the garden out back, Hex, it’s not the same’,” he quoted some little tiff they’d clearly had, doing a surprisingly good impression of his cousin’s accent around his own.

“So we’re definitely serving bleeding eye gumballs and gummy brains then?” you joked.

“I wonder if they still sell those plastic molds of hands.” Hector stroked his beard, pretending to ponder. “We could make ice hands with red food dye to put in the lemonade.”

“Crazy tasteful.” You nodded in agreement. “Or feet molds? Do they make those?”

“Ew, don’t be weird.” Hector gave you a look of fake disgust, making you both laugh before you split apart to browse in earnest.

“What about, like, mini chocolate bars? They’ve got like a million kinds.” You scanned the different shelves for the usual variety packs, finding a plethora of different groupings in brightly colored bags.

“You’d think, but no. Chocolate can melt and smear if people forget about it. And someone always forgets about it,” he added from the other side of the aisle, with a touch of that special exhaustion that comes from dealing with strangers. “And nothing that could’ve been remotely near peanut butter or nuts, Maxi said he needs a new epi-pen for the first aid kit.”

“Sure, fair. Can’t have anyone dying at the meeting about how to plan for dying. So that rules out…” You rotated slowly in place, taking stock of your options. “A lot.”

“Hey, that just makes my job easier.” Hector popped around an end cap, holding up two different versions of those holiday-themed marshmallows that had started solely as bunnies. “Skulls or ghosts?”

“For the thing or for us?”

“The thing.”

“Dude,” you laughed. “Like those little old and-slash-or anxious people won’t flip if we give them ghosts or skulls at a funeral planning seminar? You think they have enough whimsy for that?”

“Come on, it’s like, the whole reason we’re there. They gotta lighten up, man.” Hex rolled his eyes again. “Fine, I’ll just put them in the cart for after. Maxi can’t get mad at me if I bring him some, he loves this kinda shit.”

Your eyes fell on shelf of some old-fashioned candies. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot, this is so obvious.”

“How obvious?” Hector asked from the other side of the shelf.

You grabbed a bag of candy corn, inspecting the ingredients. “Nut-free factory! That’s a bonus!”

“Man, those poor factory workers.”

“Ugh, low hanging fruit.” You rolled your eyes, picking up another bag. “Come here.”

“Make me,” Hector teased, suddenly directly behind you.

“Jesus!” You whirled on the spot, startled at having not heard him sneak that close. “Behave.” You whacked his shoulder lightly with one of the bags you were holding.

“Jesus never behaved, that was like his whole deal.” Hector just plucked the bag from your hand, inspecting it before raising an eyebrow. “Candy corn?”

“What little old person doesn’t like candy corn?” You made an incredulous gesture with your free hand. “And like, these candy pumpkins.” You picked up a bag of the traditional pumpkins with the similar texture. “It’s classic for a reason.”

“Yeah, cultural indoctrination.” Hector smiled. “I can’t believe people actually eat this stuff willingly.”

“Oh, come on, it’s nostalgic as hell,” you said, placing the bags in his waiting hands. “It’s like being a little kid in your costume again.”

“Doesn’t mean it actually tastes good.” He nonetheless held still, tilting his head to look at the bag’s contents. “But sure, he can put them out in little decorative bowls or some shit, he loves those.”

You turned to set a last bag in his hands. “You honestly mean to tell me you don’t like candy corn?”

“I mean, I’ll eat it,” Hector said, sounding resigned. “But for the same reason as when I was small: because it’s there, and because it’s what we have, but not because I actually think it’s any good. Not that one,” he said, nodding to the last one you were holding. “We have enough.”

You frowned at the couple of bags in his hands. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, so at least there won’t be any leftovers.” You shrugged, then beckoned for him to follow you onto the next aisle.

“Are you kidding? The old people aren’t gonna make a dent in this, candy corn multiples the minute someone turns their back on it.” Hector followed you. “Don’t you know Halloween math?” He continued as you burst into laughter. “The same thing would always happen: Tia Mathilde would buy some candy corn, or those tiny pumpkins, and then the bowl in the kitchen would just keep refilling itself all season. It’d never get any emptier, even when I was sure the twins ate so much they were gonna puke.”

“Maybe she just kept buying more bags?” You looked over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. “Like how it works in the real world?”

“Nope, I’d check the trash whenever the bowl was full again!” Hector shook his head. “You watch, we’ll put this out, and then we’ll still be eating it until…”

You paused, turning once again to find Hector stopped behind you. “Babe?”

Hector didn’t answer, squinting at something on a shelf you’d passed.

“Something jumpscare you?” You walked back to peek over his shoulder.

“Yeah, those.” Hector nodded to a plastic box holding three small decorated sugar skulls.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t know they started selling those here.” You paused, surveying the surrounding products. “I didn’t realize they sold imported anything here, to be honest.”

“Those aren’t imported,” Hector said, nodding at the label. Sure enough, it was one of the generic store holiday brands. “They’ve just realized they can sell them and actually make some money. Check the piping around the eyes,” he gestured loosely with the corner of one of the bags. “There are people who work for months to get the decorative ones right, the legit shit. Even the ones you give kids to eat, they take their time with. That looks like someone put the icing on with their eyes closed.”

“Oh.” You leaned forward, inspecting for yourself. The piped icing to decorate the facial features looked very haphazardly applied, some of it smeared against the plastic during transport. “I see what you mean, yeah.” You glanced back at him. “It’s like, the opposite of artful half-assing. Half-ass art-ing.”

“I don’t think that’s even half an ass’s worth,” Hector said, smiling again when he made you laugh. It faded though as he looked back the store brand calaveras. “And they’re charging how much, for that quality? En esta economía? Hell,” he shook his head. “If that’s what people will pay around here for shitty ones, I should throw a bunch together and sell them at the House. Maybe be able to afford that new lens I want.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to make those,” you said, looking between him and the sad little skulls. “I mean, I should’ve guessed, what don’t you know how to make—“

“I don’t,” Hector said, glancing at you. You giggled, and he grinned. “I’m serious. I mean, in theory, sure: it’s like — what’re those fluffy stiff fuckers — meringues, right? Eggs and sugar? Mold it and wait? But my mom always went down early and bought ‘em from this artist lady she liked. For the ofrenda, and an edible one for me so I’d stop trying to lick the decorative ones when her back was turned.”

You paused in your laughter at that image, hesitant. This was the second time his mom had unexpectedly popped up this visit, and the first time hadn’t been… happy, per se. “Did you guys do that every year?”

“When we lived here? Not always,” he shrugged. “Sometimes she couldn’t get down and back in time, so we’d just leave some extra treats out and hope people coming back to visit would understand. Plus, when Tia Mathilde was in a bad mood, she’d get snippy about what room Ma could set stuff up in. Eventually, she just kept a small ofrenda in her room so she didn’t have to deal with Auntie griping about the marigold petals on the carpet.” He sucked the inside of his cheek for a minute, his eyes distant. “…She always remembered when we lived with her folks, though.” He looked away for a moment, pretending to inspect his sneakers. “But by then I usually spent the day elsewhere. It was kinda crowded. Anyway. Come on, beautiful,” he said, looking back up at you abruptly. “We got veggies to put in the fridge, get my cousin off my back.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You were sure that wasn’t what was actually what had him preoccupied, but you didn’t press. You followed him back to the cart, the two of you heading for check out. Though he was friendly as ever with the giggly (clearly somewhat smitten) cashier, you noticed Hex was subdued again, not even making his usual joke of buying out all the day-old donuts with Maxi’s credit card.

By the time the two of you walked out with your bags, you were scrambling slightly, trying to figure out how to bring him back to the present so he wouldn’t linger too long in his reverie.

As the two of you loaded the groceries into the trunk of the mustang, you spotted it: a little tent set up on the far side of the shopping center, with a handmade sign and two elderly people bundled up in lawn chairs. “Hey.”

“Hm?” Hex looked up from closing the trunk when you tugged his sleeve, eyes refocusing like he was emerging from a daze.

You thumbed towards the cider stand. “You want some?” You smiled, hoping you weren’t being obvious. “My treat?”

“Absolutely not.” Hector shoved his hand in his pocket, quickly producing his cousin’s card once again. “We’re still on a very official mortuary errand, let it be Maxi’s treat.”

“Then shouldn’t we bring him some?” Your smile felt more genuine as Hex took your hand, threading your fingers back together as you crossed the cracked little parking lot. “Since he’s being so kind?”

“Eh, it’s a had-to-be there thing, he knows how it goes.” Hector shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing personal, this is purely business.”

“Ahuh.” You muffled a small laugh. “And Rora? None for her?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ emphatically. “La Reina made it perfectly clear she didn’t wanna come along. She didn’t help with grocery shopping, so she doesn’t get to reap the rewards of honest work.”

“Damn, you guys are cold-blooded,” you teased, hip-checking him lightly.

“Hey, I warned them fair and square, I didn’t wanna mix business and family.” He spread his free hand in an exaggeratedly helpless gesture. “This is what happens. It’s cut-throat.”

You were still laughing a little when the two of you reached the tent, and you couldn’t miss the rosy-cheeked elderly couple sneaking each other a knowing smile when they greeted you and Hex. A yellow lab sat up from where it had been laying sweetly at their feet, shaking itself and mirroring its people with a panting, tongue-hanging smile of its own.

You watched silently as the cider folks poured you both a full styrofoam cup and chatted with Hex, wondering if they maybe saw themselves in you two. If they had been like you once, feeling like there were only endless unknowns ahead of them, but had finally settled into a gentle present together - from the gentleman’s brief conversation with Hector, one filled with their apple orchard and their dogs, selling homemade cider on crisp afternoons.

As the two of you took your cider (with an extra cinnamon stick for Hex, since he asked the elderly woman with a polite yet roguish smile), you both made sure the lab behind its ears, Hector reminding her in multiple languages that she was a good dog before the two of you took your leave.

That wouldn’t be such a bad forever, you thought to yourself as the older folks waved goodbye. Just the two of you doing something little to make some extra cash, sitting together in the sunlight and chatting about everything and nothing while you waited for people to swing by. Riding home - a shared home, a house for both of you - in his old car, the tired quiet comfortable like a well-loved quilt.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the happy little noise Hector made as you both leaned against the trunk of his car, and you turned to see him enjoying a long sip with both cinnamon sticks still in the cup.

“Good?” you asked, smirking.

“Mmhm.” He pulled the rest away as if to inspect it, licking his lips. “Their spice blend is really killer. Fuck a PSL.”

“That’s why Greymoon never gets a Starbucks, they just know they couldn’t compete.” You took a sip of your own, and unwittingly made a similar noise. The taste that flooded your mouth was immaculately golden, the kind of distilled late afternoon sunshine from the romanticized autumns of years past. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding.”

“Right?” Hector nodded. “I didn’t think we had any witches around lately, but now I don’t know. Little lady over there might just be hiding a pointy hat at home.”

“Now watch, we’re both going to be magically enthralled to some ancient Apple God when we least expect it.” You took another long sip nonetheless.

“Hey, beats my current thing.” Hector shrugged, downing more of his.

Oh. Right. That.

The small hitch in your soft little idea of forever.

You took another sip, your mind torn in both directions: his mom, which was what you’d been originally trying to distract him from, and now the issue of his necromantic Chain, which you were wondering if you needed distracting from.

“You having flashbacks on me?”

You blinked, looking up to find Hector watching your face. His head was tilted, his small smile looking crooked as he searched your eyes. “Where’d you go, preciosa? You got all thousand-yard stare for a sec.”

“I’m good.” You smiled, trying to prove it. “Just… Fall.” You gestured to the gorgeous day, the drinks in your hands.

“…Ahuh.” Hector said, clearly skeptical. He took one of the cinnamon sticks out of his drink, sticking the end that had been in the cider in his mouth. “Try me anyway?”

You hesitated, not wanting to bog down the moment. “…Why do I get the feeling you did the cinnamon challenge when it was a thing?” you asked instead.

“Nuh-uh,” Hector lied, the way he turned from you slightly to chew on the stick giving him away.

You laughed, immediately picturing the worst. “It didn’t go well, huh?”

“No, because I definitely didn’t do it in a room full of people at a party. What’re you, a cop?” He pointed the stick at you accusingly as you laughed even harder, nearly snorting cider as you went to take another sip. “You got your little FBI man in your phone to go through mine for proof or something? That’s low, that sneaky bastard, he’s supposed to be on my payroll.”

“I love you,” you said through the giggles you were trying to smother.

“Obviously.” Hector threw his hair dramatically over his shoulder, but he couldn’t quite hold the bravado as he looked at you, his gaze softening back into that look from before. “…I love you,” he repeated quietly, his version somehow warmer than the cider in your hand.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, and he slid an arm around your waist as he kissed the top of your skull. You stayed there, enjoying the smell of the fresh cinnamon and the hoodie he was wearing.

“…Earlier,” you spoke just as quietly, afraid to burst this little golden bubble. “When we were inside, you said something about ‘if it weren’t for the damn House.’” You angled your head so you could see his face. “What’d you mean?”

“Oh.” Hector rolled his eyes somewhat, his hand moving your waist to fiddle with a drawstring on your borrowed hoodie. “I just meant we’d be outta here already.”

You blinked, forcing yourself to hold off on the automatic hurt that wanted to leap to the forefront. “‘We?’ Like you and the twins?”

“Eh, if they wanted to, sure,” he said, shrugging. “But we’d find each other again if we needed to, they know that. I meant you and me.” He looked down at you. “I’d take you and we’d move somewhere beautiful, like, tomorrow. Get the fuck outta here, go somewhere with something going on. A real art scene, or at least someplace with actual nightlife, maldita. Or maybe we’d be like those weirdos that live in a van,” he went on. “Move around a bunch of places for a while. Like, we’d live at the beach, until you got tired of the beach, and then we’d try the mountains or something, y’know?”

“Oh, so you’d take me, huh?” Your grin threatened to split your face, it was so hard and so real.

“Obviously,” he said, his bravado back with a wink that made you laugh again. “I’d have to, before you had a chance to think it through.”

“Hey, I might be more game than you think.” You reached up, twirling a lock of his hair around the end of your finger. “What about where you’d want to live, though?”

“That’s the easy part.” He hip-checked you gently, which just pushed you more against his arm as he squeezed you in a hug. “Long as you’re there, I’m good.”

You looked at him for a long moment, pretty sure the warmth in your chest now had nothing to do with the cider or your hoodies in the sunshine. “You wanna head back?” Your hand dropped to tug lightly on his sweatshirt. “So we can put the groceries away before we get completely distracted making out, and so we don’t have an audience?” You glanced out of the corner of your eye at the tent in the distance.

“Yeah, sure babe. One sec.” Hex’s arm supported your back as he dipped you backwards, holding you steady as he made a show of kissing you in front of the grocery store.

It took you two until the lab started barking across the lot to remember you needed to actually get in and start the car.

(perhaps I was the real corn lord all along. :)

if you read this far, I hope you treat yourself to something delicious today 🥰)

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drabbles-mc · 6 months

Text

Crumbled to Dust

Horacio Carrillo & F!Reader (ft. OC Diego Ramírez)

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Surprises: create a fanwork that focuses on dreams, either literal or metaphorical

Warnings: 18+, language, nightmares/ptsd, angst, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: It's so like me to see a prompt that says 'dreams' and automatically turn it into 'nightmares' isn't it? 😂 I feel like some of the context for this story makes a lot more sense if you've read Grave Mistakes however, that being said, you will be able to understand most of what's going on just fine without it. I think that if anyone is going to haunt Carrillo's nightmares, it's only right that it's Diego. That's all.

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @616wilsons @mirabee @nessamc @mysun-n-stars @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa

When he snapped out of the nightmare it wasn’t with a jolt and a gasp. His eyes snapped open, air constricted in his chest, tied into knots in his lungs. Sweat slicked the side of his face that was pressed to the pillow, the case of it cool now, but uncomfortable and damp. He could feel a few stray beads of sweat still creeping their way across his chest, gravity pulling them down towards the sheets as he laid with one shoulder pressed into the mattress, all stacked up on one side.

He tried to move, tried to take a concentrated breath, but he couldn’t do either. He was just frozen for a moment, jaw and fists all clenched tight enough that it was shocking the nightmare woke him instead of the popping of his joints, or the cracking of his bones.

Slowly, working upwards from the soles of his feet until it finally reached the muscles of his neck, the tension waned. He unfurled his fingers, sucked in a deep breath like he’d finally broken the surface after being held underwater for too long. Instead of water he was drowning in he wiped the sweat from the side of his face instead. It took longer than it should have, longer than even on his night with the least amount of sleep, but he finally rolled onto his back and forced himself to sit upright.

It was harder to shake off nightmares when they were of things that had already happened.

He heard the gunshot, the scream. He heard the ragged breathing coming from the back seat of the car. He saw the blood—on Diego, on the backseat, on his clothes, on you. The knots in his lungs came back the more he thought about it. Awake or asleep it didn’t matter. The nightmare didn’t stop.

Each time he tried to think himself away from it, he always circled right back to it. His finger pulling the trigger. Diego crumpling on the stairs, his only crime trying to bring a fellow officer to safety. Ramos hadn’t ever really forgiven Carrillo either. In moments other than the one he was in, he wondered if the two of you ever commiserated together over that. All these years he thought he’d been adept at holding grudges, but his anger had nothing on his conscience, and now it was him versus himself.

Looking at the time on the clock, he knew there was no use in trying to go back to sleep. It was too far into the morning hours now. Even if it hadn’t been, waking out of a nightmare only to be catapulted right back into it when he went to sleep again didn’t hold any appeal. He might as well get up and shower off the sweat.

His head pressed against the tile in the shower, eyes closing as the water beat down his back. A reprieve that was close enough to sleep without letting his imagination run too wild. The water trickled down his shoulders, his back, down his legs until it hit the floor of the tub.

When he opened his eyes all he saw was blood swirling down the drain instead. His eyes widened, breath hitching. Two more blinks and it was all running clear again.

He was sitting at the foot of his bed, towel tied around his waist. Droplets from the showerhead were still slowly crawling down his back. Elbows pressed to his knees, he dropped his head into his hands. He stared at the floor beneath his feet, willing himself to think about something else, anything else.

He wished he could call you. He wished that you wouldn’t hang up the moment you realized who it was on the other end of the line. You had every right, of course. No one in the world could blame you, least of all Carrillo. He’d dashed your dreams once before, and somehow he’d figured out a way to not only do it again, but to up the ante in the process. He wouldn’t be able to be that cruel to someone even if he’d tried, and he’d tried, but somehow he’d accidentally dragged you directly into your worst nightmare.

The sun started to come up, colors clawing their way through the windows. He got halfway through buttoning the shirt of his fatigues before his hands started acting independently of his brain and he dialed your number. It rang, and rang, and rang. He hung up. He should’ve taken it as a sign to give it up while he still could, but relenting had never been a strength of his. He dialed Diego’s number next.

“Hello?” a tired, raspy answer after a ring and a half. He couldn’t force out a response. Clearing your throat, you tried to speak more clearly but it felt like your throat was still raw, head throbbing from tears spilt. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry,” he forced out.

The following pause was long, uncomfortably so. He would’ve assumed that you’d hung up completely if he’d heard anything reminiscent of a click. “Don’t call here, Horacio.”

“I’m—”

“I don’t care,” you said, voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears cascaded. “I don’t care if you’re sorry—it won’t bring him back. It won’t change what you did.”

He thought the nightmare had been losing you the first time around. All that time ago when he had driven you away. At that moment he’d watched a thousand little dreams about you all crumble to dust around him, all because he just didn’t have it in him to show you. That was all you’d wanted, really, someone who could show you, tell you how they felt. You’d gone and found it in someone else when you couldn’t find it in Carrillo, but he’d gone and taken that from you too—your dreams all dust right alongside his now. The real nightmare was so much worse than he ever could’ve imagined.

He only got one syllable out of the question how are you before you cut him off again. It was just as well, really. He knew how you were doing. He put you there. “I hope you’re losing as much sleep over this as I am, Horacio.”

You’d never been the type to be cruel. It almost made him think that none of it was real. But it was. He knew it was. And he was the reason you were like this now. “I am,” he admitted, honest the way that he should’ve been with you so long before now.

“Good,” you said, wanting it to sound scathing, but the tremble in your voice as your lips quivered dulled the edges of your anger. You tried to take a breath in and were only partially successful—Carrillo could hear the knots in your lungs too. “I keep waiting for this all to be over. But it never is. There’s always more.” You sniffled. “Absolute fucking nightmare.”

“Let me—”

“If you call here again, I’ll unplug the fucking phone, Horacio.”

He knew that you meant it. “I’m sorry,” he offered up one more time, like it was going to make any difference now. All he got in response was the click of you cutting the call.

#narcoctober #day of surprises #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #narcos #narcos netflix #narcos fanfiction #narcos netflix fanfiction #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #oc diego #oc diego ramirez #drabblesmc

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