Garcia

2013: Out of the Furnace - Tattooed Guy

2014: Gone Girl - Jeff

2015: Run All Night - Danny Maguire

2016: Jane Got a Gun - Vic Owen

2017: Logan - Donald Pierce

2021: Beckett - Stephen Tynan

2022: The Sandman - The Corinthian

2023: Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny - Klaber

2023: Justified: City Primeval - Clement Mansell

:)

Tags: @fandomnerd16​ @visintaes​ @sheeshgivemeabreak​ 

let me know if you want to be added/taken off the tag list! 

Warnings: NSFW!

a/n: yall im so sorry this took so long but its here and i hope its not bad pls love me:(( on another note i finished my finals so let’s hope my energy matches my free time now to get requests rolling out for you amores :) anyways lets get into it,, 

Tags: @fandomnerd16 @visintaes @sheeshgivemeabreak @artemiseamoon @fleurfatale89

let me know if you want to be tagged!

Warnings: NSFW! you know the drill + its longgg

ok wow so i hope this is what you guys were looking for? it’s long as usual :)- so,, read away!

Tags: @fandomnerd16​ , @visintaes​ , @sheeshgivemeabreak​ 

Warnings: NSFW! 

requested by: @mindmyowns <3 warnings: drugs, guns, sex. what else would you expect?

At first, dating Quica would be simple. A couple of bags of dope on the weekend, waking up to find him gone from your bed in the middle of the night.

He’d be back by the time you woke up in the morning, though. You knew he was doing ‘runs’, but he assured you they were quick and easy, no violence. Besides, he bought you nice things with the money he made, brought some good shit in the house every now and then.

You really didn’t mind.

Until you found a gun under your pillow. No, you didn’t put it there, but it was obvious what was happening. Quica was getting in deeper. He’d buy you more nice things, but you’d wake up to find him gone more often.

He always would tell you not to worry. He’s got it.

And he did have it. With this extra money rolling in, your relationship would jump up to the next level.

He’d buy the pair of you a nice house, you’d always have food in the fridge - hell, you had a fridge. It was a nice change.

He’d take you out to fancy food places. He’d buy you nice perfume, rent nice cars to take you for a drive.

And then, he’d take you home, and there’d be plenty of good sex. Sweet and gentle turned hot and heavy, you’d always be game for just a little more fun.

He’d always be affectionate - not scared to show it in the least. He’d have his arm over your shoulders when you go out with his friends, steal kisses when he thought no one was looking. But they always were - you were the hottest fucking couple in all of Colombia. Well, that’s what he believed, anyways. It was so sweet.

But this would change when his game with the kingpins started getting more heated. His boss always wanted him at his every beck and call - you’d see Quica twice, maybe three times a week if you were lucky. He wouldn’t stay to sleep beside you after a rough night together anymore.

But he’d still hold you til you were asleep.

He’d make the most out of his time with you, but the public outings would stop. He wouldn’t want you to be seen in public with him, not because he was any less proud that you were his, but because he couldn’t let people think he was attached. If the wrong people knew, he could guarantee you’d be on somebody’s hitlist, and he couldn’t cope with even the thought of that.

He’d tell you to tell everyone you knew that you’d left him, that you hadn’t seen him in weeks. And then, he’d climb through your window at 3am even though he had a front door key.

He really wanted to keep you safe.

The sneaking around would make the whole thing so much more exciting. The thrill, the adrenaline of it would drive the both of you crazy, and you’d begin seeing each other more again, just because it was so much fun. It turned the heat back up.

You’d still have those fancy dinners, only inside. You’d still have those psychedelic weekends together, so long as the curtains were drawn and the door was locked.

Dating Quica would never leave a moment to be dull. The sense of danger was always around the corner, so you lived every night together like it could be your last, because it very nearly could be.

requested by: @mindmyowns <3 warnings: drugs, guns, sex. what else would you expect?

At first, dating Quica would be simple. A couple of bags of dope on the weekend, waking up to find him gone from your bed in the middle of the night.

He’d be back by the time you woke up in the morning, though. You knew he was doing ‘runs’, but he assured you they were quick and easy, no violence. Besides, he bought you nice things with the money he made, brought some good shit in the house every now and then.

You really didn’t mind.

Until you found a gun under your pillow. No, you didn’t put it there, but it was obvious what was happening. Quica was getting in deeper. He’d buy you more nice things, but you’d wake up to find him gone more often.

He always would tell you not to worry. He’s got it.

And he did have it. With this extra money rolling in, your relationship would jump up to the next level.

He’d buy the pair of you a nice house, you’d always have food in the fridge - hell, you had a fridge. It was a nice change.

He’d take you out to fancy food places. He’d buy you nice perfume, rent nice cars to take you for a drive.

And then, he’d take you home, and there’d be plenty of good sex. Sweet and gentle turned hot and heavy, you’d always be game for just a little more fun.

He’d always be affectionate - not scared to show it in the least. He’d have his arm over your shoulders when you go out with his friends, steal kisses when he thought no one was looking. But they always were - you were the hottest fucking couple in all of Colombia. Well, that’s what he believed, anyways. It was so sweet.

But this would change when his game with the kingpins started getting more heated. His boss always wanted him at his every beck and call - you’d see Quica twice, maybe three times a week if you were lucky. He wouldn’t stay to sleep beside you after a rough night together anymore.

But he’d still hold you til you were asleep.

He’d make the most out of his time with you, but the public outings would stop. He wouldn’t want you to be seen in public with him, not because he was any less proud that you were his, but because he couldn’t let people think he was attached. If the wrong people knew, he could guarantee you’d be on somebody’s hitlist, and he couldn’t cope with even the thought of that.

He’d tell you to tell everyone you knew that you’d left him, that you hadn’t seen him in weeks. And then, he’d climb through your window at 3am even though he had a front door key.

He really wanted to keep you safe.

The sneaking around would make the whole thing so much more exciting. The thrill, the adrenaline of it would drive the both of you crazy, and you’d begin seeing each other more again, just because it was so much fun. It turned the heat back up.

You’d still have those fancy dinners, only inside. You’d still have those psychedelic weekends together, so long as the curtains were drawn and the door was locked.

Dating Quica would never leave a moment to be dull. The sense of danger was always around the corner, so you lived every night together like it could be your last, because it very nearly could be.

Imagine finding out that your boyfriend Deny is La Quica from the Medellin cartel.

requested by: anon warnings: ?? swearing ?? this ones pretty tame for a narcos one imo also, i kinda gave it an underlying possible javi x reader vibe because my love is just too strong, hope that’s chill.

You threw your coat over the back of a chair and swept up a coffee from the desk. Two glugs of it assaulting your tastebuds and you knew it wasn’t yours.

“Hey, don’t pull that face. This is good stuff, your taste is off.” Javi swiped it from your hand and held out another for you, and you took a sip.

“No no, my taste is brilliant - this is good stuff.”

He scoffed, “You wanna talk about your taste in men again?”

Your brows set with his teasing tone. You knew what he was getting at - he wanted you to spill the gossip on your latest boyfriend so he could terrorise him, like he always does. “Um, no. I’m not having you chase off another perfectly good man.”

“Why did they dart on you if they were perfectly good, sweetie?”

You frowned at him and his shit-eating grin. You had nothing to say to that. You loved Javi, you really did, but he and his cynicism were a detrimental force on your lovelife. At this rate, you’d be 50 years old and still sat in a bar every other night with these two assholes.

“Can’t help it if every guy in Colombia is a loser.”

He opened his arms, “I’m in Colombia.”

“And so my point stands.” You shook your head and took a slurp of coffee, turning your back on him and going to stand beside a focused Steve staring at a wall, hands on his hips.

Your brows raised when you followed his gaze. “Oh, this is new.”

Faces and faces. So many faces dotted the board, with names tacked up, many of which you recognised, some crossed through with red. At the top, one Pablo Escobar. “So this is our cartel.”

“This is our cartel, but only as far as we know.” Steve gestured to the lowest row on the board, many of which were names without pictures. “We don’t know these guys. And we don’t know who they got working for them, either.”

“It’s a huge fuckin’ spider’s web,” called Javi from behind you.

“Anything we do to anyone on this web, the spider will know,” you nodded grimly. Your eyes raked through the profiles, some strangers and some familiar. One, just a little too familiar.

Your brows creased, your feet instinctively took a step closer. You craned your neck to see a little better and your heart lurched when you saw what you wished wasn’t true. His name escaped your lips in a gasp. “Deny?”

“What’s that?” Steve asked.

“Oh, what? Nothing, just-”

“Just?”

“I think it’s too early for my eyes,” you laughed and waved a hand dismissively, then raising your coffee. “Gonna need a little more of this.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed and constricted your stomach with nerves. But he nodded with a “Uh huh,” and went to shuffle through some papers. “What’s our next move, then?”

“Fill in the blanks? We need a full board to get the full web.” You scoured the rest of the board for anyone else you recognised, but there were no others. Just your boyfriend.

Your eyes settled on the picture of him, trying to tell yourself that anyone could have his curly hair, his scruff. Even the wildness in his eyes wasn’t hard to come by these days.

But then, you filled your brain with the faces of sicarios. It would make sense that he had that look too. Fuck, it suddenly made too much sense. His sneaking, his reluctance to be seen with you, how he never told you about his friends or family, or even work.

Your fingers found their way to the necklace he’d bought you, a dainty gold chain.

How could he be part of this? Your sweet, hilarious, ride-or-die Deny.

But then, you had to assume he had no idea you were with the DEA.

You’d been playing a more dangerous game than you knew, and now it was time to win.