#dani x clara
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guavagyal · 3 months ago
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me and the baddie I pulled by starting a revolution
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ret-is-ready · 1 year ago
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I wish there was more art of them, they were so dating
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somewillwin · 1 year ago
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Im playing far cry 6, AND THE WAY I LOVE DANY SINGING ALONG TO THE CAR RADIO?!
Dani is so pretty she is def for the ladies, I’m 99% sure both Clara and Camila are in love with her and I mean… I get it
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juskru · 2 years ago
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Don't laugh; I didn't notice they had billboards with Clara until playing the game for the third time 🙈
In my defense, you don't find them everywhere in Yara 👀
So, naturally, my mind goes rampant 😌
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"What the..."
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"Did y'all see this?"
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"That's not what she looks like"
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"That's not her smile, that's not her chin 😒 Her lips are fuller than that 😑 Her eyes are so much warmer than that"
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"They did get her boobs right, though... WHO THE FUCK LOOKED AT HER BOOBS LONG ENOUGH TO GET THEM RIGHT?! 😤"
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"Comemierdas. If I ever find who did this... 😑 I should burn this shit up"
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"Yeah, imma do it 😏"
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"Fuck you, Castillo!"
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Yes your honor, I'm still very much obsessed (◡‿◡✿)
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orphiceonian · 2 years ago
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Running up that hill (a deal with god) is such a Dani Clara song and I need therapy
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juskru · 1 year ago
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💙
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xthescarletbitch · 1 year ago
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‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ requests ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
requests are only OPEN for kara, aloy, and camila montero at the moment. ♡ let's talk ideas and other brainrot!!
just a few things:
this is an 18+ blog
reminder that i am a lesbian and will write as such :)
i am down for nsfw requests (on that note, you'll need to be able to see mature content to read my work)
i will pretty much write anything except hard kinks, pedophilia, incest, and other stuff like that
i am definitely one to write what i want to read, so most of my writing is self-indulgent
i don't usually do character x character, but that doesn't mean you can't send it anyway
i own the right to ignore requests that i simply don’t want to do
it may take me a bit to get to requests as i am a full-time college student, but you’re free to resend if i take too long
this post is subject to change as i think of other things to say!!
character list:
reminder: only writing for kara (dbh), aloy (horizon), and camila montero (far cry 6) at the moment!
♡ = fave characters, so please talk to me about them 🙏
sevika (arcane)
vi (arcane)
jinx (arcane)
kassandra (assassin’s creed odyssey)
lae'zel (baldur's gate 3) -- not yet
minthara (baldur's gate 3) -- not yet
shadowheart (baldur's gate 3) -- not yet
karlach (baldur's gate 3) -- not yet
judy álvarez (cyberpunk 2077)
panam palmer (cyberpunk 2077)
meredith stout (cyberpunk 2077)
kara (detroit: become human) ♡
north (detroit: become human)
chloe (detroit: become human)
f!dani rojas (far cry 6)
camila “la espada” montero (far cry 6) ♡
clara garcía (far cry 6)
mercedes “jonrón” martín (far cry 6)
aloy (horizon) ♡
jill valentine (resident evil 3)
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thebroken-hearted-lover · 1 year ago
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Because these two have had my brain in a stranglehold for the last month
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starkwlkr · 1 year ago
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i. the beginning
sweet series (princess of spain x marc marquez)
MAY 2014
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Clara had never felt more embarrassed in her life. Lorenzo, her ex boyfriend, the man she gave four years of her life to, was doing fine without her while she was still trying her hardest to even get out of bed. Her father, Felipe, hated seeing his daughter sad so he thought that a father daughter day would be good. Only thing was that his version of a father daughter day involved motorcycle racing. She didn’t think she would end up liking motorcycle racing.
“Are you excited?” Felipe asked as they were being driven to the Circuito de Jerez for the Spanish Grand Prix.
“I think I am. I’m not sure what to expect.” Clara responded.
“I’m sure you’ll end up loving it. We’re going to be meeting some of the riders.” Felipe said.
“Do you know which ones?”
“I know for a fact that we will meet Valentino Rossi and Dani Pedrosa, he’s from Sabadell. You love Sabadell! Didn’t you visit Sabadell once to see the . . .”
“The art museum. And it was six years ago, I haven’t visited since.” Clara finished.
“But you can talk to Mr. Pedrosa about the art museum, I’m sure he’s visited it too.” Felipe tried to at least have a conversation with Clara, but all she wanted was peace and quiet so he stayed silent until they arrived.
“Give us five minutes, please.” Felipe told the driver, who nodded and stepped out the vehicle. “Clara, tell me how you really feel.”
“Like I’m the biggest idiot and I’m going to die alone. It felt like that to me. It feels like I wasted four years of my life. He never cared about me, papi.” Clara silently sobbed.
Felipe’s heart broke. It’s been a while since Clara had called him papi. It was always little Clara who called him that.
“He told me once that i wouldn’t make a good mother because of who I am. He thinks that because I’m royalty that I’m going to fuck up my future kids’ lives.” Clara admitted. “But he was drunk when he said that.”
“My girl, you know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts.”
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alessiathepirate · 9 months ago
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FAR CRY 6
IT WASN'T THE ONLY COPY: Juan Cortez x fem!reader
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Summary: Since Juan forced her to stay on the couch until her wound is fully healed, she had to find something interesting to do.
Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.
My Spanish isn't the best so if you find a word / phrase used in the wrong context or anything please let me know so I can improve :)
Warnings: swearing, referenced violence
•••
Ever since she got hurt back in Isla Santuario, Juan forced her into safety, not letting her engage in any fight at all. And even though it felt nice to know he cared for her that much, staying behind while the others took care of the dirty work - the fun work - quickly became boring and a bit annoying.
Even after they got back to Zamok Archipiélago, she still had to stay behind and let Dani go after the Monteros alone. Nor Clara, nor Juan wanted her to run around - even though the Jefa was still doing that with a not fully healed bullet wound.
The furthest place Juan let her go to, was his office - otherwise she had to rest on the couch above it, slowly rotting away. After she kept on insisting, he finally let her help him work on resolvers and supremos, while they shared a glass of alcohol. That's where she put together the small lamp, what she could attach to books and read comfortably - because the lighting 'upstairs' was shit.
Juan was out again - getting more alcohol to drink or cigars to smoke most likely, because those past few weeks he barely left her side. So she spent her time doing something more fun than getting crazy on the damn couch - she was reading with her back against the pillow and her legs stretched out to not put pressure on her stomach.
She was already halfway through it when she heard the footsteps, and they got closer and closer until she could clearly see Juan, who was on his way toward her with a bottle of whisky.
She put her book aside. A great bottle of whisky was a rarity in Yara.
"Back already?" she asked with a smile as she sat up carefully, making some space for Juan on the couch.
"Sí. Jefa needed some help with the comms, but I still got something for you." he explained as he sat down.
"Finally some good whisky." she said happily as she leaned forward to rest her chin on Juan's shoulder while he poured some alcohol for the both of them. "Does Clara need help with anything? And how's Dani doing in Madrugada?"
"Don't worry about it cariño, they can take care of themselves."
"I can take care of myself too." she explained, wanting to get out and do something fun.
"I know you can." she took one glass from him. "But until you're ready to go out and fuck Castillo's shit up again, you'll stay here and get drunk with me."
She drank up the whisky, enjoying the taste it left in her mouth, then let Juan light up a cigar.
"I just wanna go out and shoot at some FND assholes."
"Sí, corazón, I want that too and I can't wait for you try the resolver weapons I put together for you, but a good guerrilla is never impatient."
She raised her eyebrows. "That's not even a rule!"
"It is."
"No, it's not!"
"It is when you're such a loca guerrilla who wants to run around with a wound like that." he gave her his cigar, sharing it with her as he looked at her stomach what was still covered in bandages under one of Juan's shirts.
"I don't want to run around, I just want to help."
"And you'll help by being Juan's asistente in the office."
She gave the cigar back to Juan and put her chin back on his shoulder. His free arm hugged her close, being surprisingly gentle.
"Fine. I can take a few more days." she agreed. "As long as I'll be your asistente."
She pulled her legs up, getting closer to Juan, trying to enjoy his presence. He'll get back to his office soon - he always does, so she tried to enjoy every minute being close to him while he smoked.
Her movement made the book move as well. That was the reason why Juan noticed it in the first place, just as he finished his cigar.
"Is that my book?"
She grabbed it and gave it to him. The small lamp she put together was still on it.
"Yeah. I wanted to read something interesting while I was healing."
"I thought I destroyed the last copy of it when that hijo de puta called the FND on me at the bar."
"I put one aside." she explained. "You talked about Kyrat a lot, but you never mentioned the KGB before. Or the Colombian guerrillas."
"If I talk about them now will you sit on your ass 'til you're fine?"
She chuckled.
"You make it sound like I'm annoying you."
"You're never annoying me, cariño. But your damn stubbornness does."
"If I wasn't this stubborn," she began as she pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. "I wouldn't be dating Juan Cortez. So you better love my stubbornness too, mi amor."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She sighed, breathing in his presence and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.
"Did you make this?" he asked, referring to the lamp.
"Yeah. You had some scrap around so I got creative."
"That's why you're my favourite asistente." he praised and her heart fluttered. "So where were you?"
"I was reading abbout the Colombian guerrillas when you came in."
So Juan started to talk about it. And the next thing too what came up in his book -- and the next... He spoke and she listened. They drank up their whisky and smoked a few more cigars.
When Juan was around to talk to and listen to, she didn't mind at all that he was so damn protective of her.
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roleplayfinder · 9 months ago
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About Me: 21+. She/Her. EST. I write on Discord but like to plot on Tumblr. I write in third person, past tense and around 2-4 paragraphs. I work full-time during the week so replies won't happen every day. I try to get them up as soon as possible and don't really expect more than 1 reply a week out of my writing partner because sometimes that's all I can do myself. Because of my limited amount of free time, I don't double.
Please read everything and be 21+ to interact!!!
What I'm Looking For: Threads for my five-ish biggest fandoms right now. I prefer canon x canon but will take on some canon x OC (I'm just picky with those so don't be offended if I turn your OC down). I'm open to MxM (my big preference for my male muses), MxF, or FxF. I like canon and canon divergent plots the most. As long as a plot could reasonably happen within the universe, I'll likely be okay with it. I'm open to writing NSFW/smut and do prefer romantic ships, but I'm also okay with keeping things clean.
I'll be listing my main muses for each fandom and some of my favorite ships (with my preferred muse in italics, if I have a preference). I'm more than open to discussing other ships, however. There's only a small chance I'll turn one down.
All characters will be 18+!
Doctor Who: Delgado!Master, Dhawan!Master, Eleventh Doctor, Fifth Doctor, Fourteenth Doctor, Second Doctor, Sixth Doctor, Tenth Doctor
Delgado!Master x Three
Dhawan!Master x Any Doctor
Eleven x Jack
Eleven x Clara
Five x Turlough
Fourteen x Jack
Two x Jamie
Ten x Jack
Ten x Simm!Master
Fantastic Beasts/Harry Potter: Albus Dumbledore (FB era), Barty Crouch Jr (Golden Trio era)., Cedric Diggory (Golden Trio era or AU where he survives), Cormac McLaggen (Golden Trio era or post-Hogwarts), Gilderoy Lockart (any era), Severus Snape (any era), Theseus Scamander (FB era)
Dumbledore x Grindelwald
Dumbledore x Newt
Dumbledore x Theseus
Barty x Lucius
Barty x Draco
Cedric x Harry
Cormac x Ron
Cormac x Hermione
Lockhart x Snape
Lockhart x Quirrell
Snape x Lucius
Snape x Harry
Snape x Lupin
Theseus x Newt
Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon: Alliser Thorne, Benjen Stark, Beric Dondarrion, Daemon Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Petyr Baelish, Robb Stark, Roose Bolton, Stannis Baratheon, Thoros, Tywin Lannister, Yoren
Beric x Thoros
Daemon x Laenor
Daemon x Criston
Daemon x Viserys
Daemon x Laena
Daemon x Rhaenyra
Dany x Margaery
Dany x Jorah
Jaime x Sansa
Margaery x Sansa
Margaery x Roose
Margaery x Stannis
Margaery x Joffrey
Petyr x Renly
Petyr x Sansa
Robb x Roose
Robb x Jon
Robb x Theon
Roose x Stannis
Roose x Tywin
Roose x Sansa
Stannis x Davos
Marvel: Benjamin Poindexter, Billy Russo, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Eddie Brock, Frank Castle, Loki Laufeyson, Nathan Summers, Andrew!Peter Parker, Ray Nadeem, Remy LeBeau, Tony Stark, Wade Wilson
Dex x Ray
Dex x Billy
Dex x Matt
Dex x Karen
Billy x Frank
Billy x Karen
Bruce x Tony
Bucky x Zemo
Carol x Valkyrie
Eddie x Venom
Frank x Matt
Frank x Karen
Loki x Grandmaster
Loki x Thor
Loki x Mobius
Cable x Wade
Andrew!Peter x Tobey!Peter
Andrew!Peter x Matt
Andrew!Peter x Wade
Andrew!Peter x Male MJ
Andrew!Peter x Gwen
Gambit x Wolverine
Gambit x Rogue (canon female or genderbent male)
Tony x Strange
Tony x Tom!Peter
Tony x Steve
Wade x Wolverine
Wade x Dopinder
Wade x Comics!Peter
Wade x Matt
Wade x Colossus
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Charlie Hewitt Jr., Drayton Sawyer, Johnny Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer
Johnny x Leland
Johnny x Sonny
Johnny x Nubbins
Johnny x Julie
Nubbins x Bubba
Nubbins x Sissy
If you'd like to work something out, please like this post. It may take me a few days to get back to you because I'm both wary and weary of being shadowbanned for sending too many similar messages at once.
.
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findyourrp · 9 months ago
Note
About Me: 21+. She/Her. EST. I write on Discord but like to plot on Tumblr. I write in third person, past tense and around 2-4 paragraphs. I work full-time during the week so replies won't happen every day. I try to get them up as soon as possible and don't really expect more than 1 reply a week out of my writing partner because sometimes that's all I can do myself. Because of my limited amount of free time, I don't double. 👑
Please read everything and be 21+ to interact!!!
What I'm Looking For: Threads for my five-ish biggest fandoms right now. I prefer canon x canon but will take on some canon x OC (I'm just picky with those so don't be offended if I turn your OC down). I'm open to MxM (my big preference for my male muses), MxF, or FxF. I like canon and canon divergent plots the most. As long as a plot could reasonably happen within the universe, I'll likely be okay with it. I'm open to writing NSFW/smut and do prefer romantic ships, but I'm also okay with keeping things clean.
I'll be listing my main muses for each fandom and some of my favorite ships (with my preferred muse in italics, if I have a preference). I'm more than open to discussing other ships, however. There's only a small chance I'll turn one down.
All characters will be 18+!
Doctor Who: Delgado!Master, Dhawan!Master, Eleventh Doctor, Fifth Doctor, Fourteenth Doctor, Second Doctor, Sixth Doctor, Tenth Doctor
Delgado!Master x Three
Dhawan!Master x Any Doctor
Eleven x Jack
Eleven x Clara
Five x Turlough
Fourteen x Jack
Two x Jamie
Ten x Jack
Ten x Simm!Master
Fantastic Beasts/Harry Potter: Albus Dumbledore (FB era), Barty Crouch Jr (Golden Trio era)., Cedric Diggory (Golden Trio era or AU where he survives), Cormac McLaggen (Golden Trio era or post-Hogwarts), Gilderoy Lockart (any era), Severus Snape (any era), Theseus Scamander (FB era)
Dumbledore x Grindelwald
Dumbledore x Newt
Dumbledore x Theseus
Barty x Lucius
Barty x Draco
Cedric x Harry
Cormac x Ron
Cormac x Hermione
Lockhart x Snape
Lockhart x Quirrell
Snape x Lucius
Snape x Harry
Snape x Lupin
Theseus x Newt
Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon: Alliser Thorne, Benjen Stark, Beric Dondarrion, Daemon Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Petyr Baelish, Robb Stark, Roose Bolton, Stannis Baratheon, Thoros, Tywin Lannister, Yoren
Beric x Thoros
Daemon x Laenor
Daemon x Criston
Daemon x Viserys
Daemon x Laena
Daemon x Rhaenyra
Dany x Margaery
Dany x Jorah
Jaime x Sansa
Margaery x Sansa
Margaery x Roose
Margaery x Stannis
Margaery x Joffrey
Petyr x Renly
Petyr x Sansa
Robb x Roose
Robb x Jon
Robb x Theon
Roose x Stannis
Roose x Tywin
Roose x Sansa
Stannis x Davos
Marvel: Benjamin Poindexter, Billy Russo, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Eddie Brock, Frank Castle, Loki Laufeyson, Nathan Summers, Andrew!Peter Parker, Ray Nadeem, Remy LeBeau, Tony Stark, Wade Wilson
Dex x Ray
Dex x Billy
Dex x Matt
Dex x Karen
Billy x Frank
Billy x Karen
Bruce x Tony
Bucky x Zemo
Carol x Valkyrie
Eddie x Venom
Frank x Matt
Frank x Karen
Loki x Grandmaster
Loki x Thor
Loki x Mobius
Cable x Wade
Andrew!Peter x Tobey!Peter
Andrew!Peter x Matt
Andrew!Peter x Wade
Andrew!Peter x Male MJ
Andrew!Peter x Gwen
Gambit x Wolverine
Gambit x Rogue (canon female or genderbent male)
Tony x Strange
Tony x Tom!Peter
Tony x Steve
Wade x Wolverine
Wade x Dopinder
Wade x Comics!Peter
Wade x Matt
Wade x Colossus
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Charlie Hewitt Jr., Drayton Sawyer, Johnny Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer
Johnny x Leland
Johnny x Sonny
Johnny x Nubbins
Johnny x Julie
Nubbins x Bubba
Nubbins x Sissy
If you'd like to work something out, please like this post. It may take me a few days to get back to you because I'm both wary and weary of being shadowbanned for sending too many similar messages at once.
.
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juskru · 2 years ago
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Cause we all know that Dani would absolutely sing this in her head every time she went out there being her agent of chaos self 😏
Viva Libertad 😂💪🙌
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRb29nW9/
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powerpolyculeshowdown · 2 years ago
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MASTERPOST
Preliminary round/Round 0 (finished)
Rajan/Wolfgang/Kala vs Lito/Hernando/Dani (Sense8) Winners: Rajan/Wolfgang/Kala
Fluorite vs Greg/Rose/Pearl (Steven Universe) Winners: Fluorite
Eddie/Venom/Anne/Dan vs Cletus/Frances/Carnage (Venom) Winners: Eddie/Venom/Anne/Dan
Peter Quill/Aradia/Mors vs Peter Quill/Gamora/Richard Rider (Guardians of the Galaxy) Winners: Peter Quill/Aradia/Mors
Max/Jack/Anne vs Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint /Thomas Hamilton (Black Sails) Winners: Max/Jack/Anne
Mercymorn/John Gaius/Augustine vs Pyrrha/Commander Wake/Gideon The First (The Locked Tomb) Winners: Pyrrha/Wake/G1deon
Logan/Jean Grey/Scott/Emma vs Bling!/Loa/Mercury Winners: Logan/Jean Grey/Scott/Emma
Round 1
Part 1 (finished)
Kieran/Ray/Gemma (Trigonometry) vs Nicky/Joe/Andy/Booker/Niles (Old Guard)
Eugene/Rapunzel/Cassandra (Tangled the Series) x Sasha/Anne/Marcy (Amphibia)
Neal/Peter/Elizabeth (White Collar) x Jade/Dave/Karkat (Homestuck Epilogues)
Anzu/Kazuki/Junta (Romantic Killers) x Pyrrha/Commander Wake/Gideon The First (The Locked Tomb)
Syenite/Innon/Alabaster (Broken Earth) x Breq/Mercy of Karl/Seivarden/Ekalu (Imperial Radch)
Taylor/Theo/Josey (3) x Tessa/Will/Jem (The Infernal Devices)
Kieran/Cristina/Mark (The Dark Artifices) x Sofiane/Victor/Luisa (Mortel)
Jack/August/Rina (The Wicker King) x La’gann/Coral/Rodunn (Young Justice)
Part 2 (finished)
Roguish Semiotician/Infamous Mathematician/Player Character (Fallen London) x Alphonse/Seth/Listener (Bittersweet)
Emiya/Saber/Rin (Fate Stay/Night) x Winter/Moon/Qibli (Wings of Fire)
Amber/Reese/David (Adaptation) x Jack/Emma/Izzy (You Me Her)
Camina/Michio Pa/Serge/Josep/Berthold/Oksana (The Expanse) x Enrique/Hypnos/Sofia (The Gilded Wolves)
Max/Jack/Anne (Black Sails) x Keiko/Miles/Kira (Star Trek)
Shikimori/Izumi/Ai (Shikimori is Not Just Cute) x Quincey Morris/Jack Seward/Arthur Holmwood/Lucy Westenra (Dracula)
Camille/Nyra/Dendro (Muted) x Turtle Heart/Melena/Frex (Wicked)
Storm/Helen/Mira (Love and Luck Podcast) x Neptune/Venus/Jupiter (We Know the Devil)
Part 3 (finished)
Nathan/Vlad/Ursula (Hunger Pangs) x Leif/Thorn/Kale (Leif and Thorn)
Haruka/Michiru/Setsuna (Sailor Moon) x Ichika Hoshino/Saki Tenma/Shiho Hinomori/Honami Mochizuki (Project SEKAI)
Sadie/Walt/Anubis (The Kane Chronicles) x Sherlock/Watson/Mary (Sherlock Holmes movies)
Dianda/Simon/Patrick (October Daye) x Caleb/Astrid/Eadwulf (Critical Role)
Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot (High Noon Over Camelot) x Mukai Naoya/Saki Saki/Nagisa Minase (Girlfriend Girlfriend)
Dashawn/Steve/Jose/Cupe R III/Otto/Arturo/Gregory/Quackers McQuack (Bojack Horseman) x Fluorite (Steven Universe)
Logan/Jean Grey/Scott/Emma (X-Men) x Uzui/Hinatsuru/Makio/Suma (Demon Slayer)
Eddie/Venom/Anne/Dan (Venom) x Ben/Ryn/Maddie (Siren)
Part 4 (finished)
Nathan/Gabriel/Annalise (The Bastard Son and the Devil Himself) x Peter Quill/Aradia/Mors (Guardians of the Galaxy)
Aizo/Yujiro/Hiyori (HoneyWorks) x Kyle/Rogelio/Lonnie (She Ra)
Princess Glisselda/Seraphina/Lucien (Seraphina) x Tess/Jacomo/Margarethe (Tess of the Road)
Daniel/Sam/Jack/Teal’c (Stargate SG-1) x Quanxi/Pingsti/Cosmo/Long/Tsugihagi (Chainsaw Man)
Wu Zetian/Li Shimin/Gao Yizhi (Iron Widow) x Tree Trunks/Mr. Pig/Alien Husband (Adventure Time)
Miss Piggy/Kermit/Gonzo (Muppets) x Rajan/Wolfgang/Kala (Sense8)
Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades) x Rilla/Arum/Damien (Penumbra Podcast)
George/Gilda/Thomas (Design for Living) x Asmodeus Alice/Clara Valac/Iruma Suzuki (Mairimashita, Iruma-kun!)
masterpost part 2
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its-deputy-caleb · 2 years ago
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My Juan of a Kind – Part Three
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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |
pairing: juan cortez x reader [background clara x dani]
summary: after finally returning from isla santuario things look to be peaceful at the newly united libertad. however, when a dead drop calls- it causes you both to own up to unsaid feelings (i suck as summaries it’s legit just the dead drop mission remastered)  *you’ll find a link with a photo that i took in game that appears in the fic*
note: am i finishing this after seven months? yes. did i go way overboard? absolutely. firstly i wanna say i’m happy to be back and i hope i’ll be able to write a little more now that time is freeing up. secondly, i feel like my writing style has changed drastically? i’m actually really happy with how this turned out but it will obvi feel very disjointed from the first two chapters (sorry ya’ll) but pls enjoy this one and i got so into writing it, there will be a forth chapter/epilogue where there’s actual content and not just a lot of yearning lol <3 also please not this one has a lot of angst and feels and i even tried writing from juan’s pov so idk how well that turned out but we’ll see how we go !
if juan sounds out of character here its bc 1) i make him soft, sue me and 2) i took a lot of inspo from the comics by ubi where he has a lot more trauma and so i tried to put that into canon/my fics version of the story so i hope it doesn’t sound that off for him :)
warnings: angst, canon typical violence, the reader gets like close to death and while its not very graphic the fic still has a heavy feel to it just like the dead drop mission. pls be careful and take care of yourselves <3
description: gender neutral reader | angst with a side of fluff | changing pov | 10,315 words | 
Aches and pains. That’s the first thing you notice as you wake up, taking in the soreness of your legs from running around Anton’s boats and the stiffness in your back that always seems to shine through on the mornings after you wear a heavy supremo all day. All your joints hurt in a way that says you might have overdone it yesterday but you wouldn’t change any of it, not even for a second. Not if it meant you’d get to sleep in with the older guerrilla snoring soundly next to you, face pressed into your hair with his hands gripping your shirt like he’s scared you’ll slip away, even in sleep.
These are your favorite mornings. The slowness of the room, the lack of routine or urgency to get somewhere, the feeling of safety knowing Libertad has pulled off a great win. All of it means you get to roll into the warmth of Juan’s embrace, and let yourself indulge in the peaceful stillness of the room. 
You can hear the gentle buzz of machinery below you, the sounds of engines rumbling from where Juan pulled apart an old FND jeep and forgot to turn it off. It fills the room, the noise drifting up from the lower ground and up into the scaffolding that is his living quarters. It compliments the sound of water that echoes up from the cave systems attached to his bunker, all of it so peaceful and decidedly lacking any gunfire or sirens or scouting calls that it’s almost enough to send you back to sleep. Almost. 
Guapo comes barreling through the front door, the sound reverberating and waking up Juan in the process, who’s already grumbling a string of mumbled curses into your hair. The two of you look down over the edge of the scaffolding to see the very excited cocodrilo drop a dead crab in the middle of the room, his tail swinging around as if he were a puppy and a deep rumble that you’ve come to learn means he’s proud of himself but also very, very hungry.
Of course, Guapo wanting to be hand-fed like the spoiled pet he is, doesn’t stop you from enjoying the quiet of the morning. Together, the small cocodrilo is pampered with pets, bellyrubs and hand fed his crab along with other slabs of meat and the occasional treat for the better part of an hour before he curls up underneath the workshop bench to sleep on the cooler concrete.
Juan has already made his way over, eyes fixed on tinkering with his supremos as he pulls apart delicate strips of metal and fiddles with wires. Deciding to join him, you drag a spare stool over to watch him work, your head resting on his shoulder as a makeshift pillow. Occasionally you pass him things, little screwdrivers and wrenches, and you might even make a comment on what he’s doing but for the most part you’re more than content to watch him work. Neither of you need words to communicate, not now, when it's just the two of you with only Guapo nudging at your legs. The two of you wordlessly talk to each other with tactile touches, brushing fingers as tools are passed, subtly leaning into each other's space and bumping knees under the workbench. It’s so rare that the two of you can enjoy silence, that you don’t even attempt to turn on his small radio sitting atop of the bench beside you– no one willing to break the fragile moment with any noise louder than hushed whispers and metal clanking.
So it stays like that. At least for as long as it can go on. You can hear some of the guerrillas moving around at Clara's camp from outside, both of you perking up at the sound scouts talking whilst they walk past the bunker’s entrance. It seems to clear you up, knock you out of the blissful daze you were in. Juan seems to feel it too, straightening out in his chair as he gestures over to your gear by the door.
“Your rifle could use a touch up,” He waves a wrench at your weapon sitting up against the wall, before reaching over to some of his parts he’ll need to improve it. “I’ve got the circuits I need to fix it now, can’t have you dealing with all that weapon sway now that we’re off that god awful island, no?”
Juan gives you a big smile, one that you happily return as you grab your rifle and some other loose items to begin working on it. Both of you are overjoyed to be off Isla Santuario, but you can see it in the way the old spymaster’s eyes light up at having his workshop back– having his home back, to know he’s truly happy to return.
After your rifle is thoroughly upgraded, a feat Juan keeps boasting about because it’s now ‘a custom piece made by the resolver master himself!’ He insists it has to have the eye-catching pop of color to match. Of course, that just means Juan ends up with paint all over himself since he’s never been one to do things carefully and before you know it there’s silver paint all over the rifle, the bench and his hands. The lining of the rifle is bright, shining as it brings out the shine to the metal, highly impractical for the field but who cares about camouflage when you’ve got style. But the new and improved rifle doesn’t take your eyes away from the man in front of you.
“I can’t tell if you’re doused in silver paint or if that’s just your gray hair, old man.” Your fingers attempt to smudge the glittery gray substance from his hair, only to let out a fit of affectionate laughter when nothing changes. It doesn’t stop you from running your fingers through it, tucking the unsurprisingly greasy hair behind his ear and straightening out his mess of a bed head and you can’t help but smile as he leans into the gesture. It’s only after he realizes you’ve teased him does he huff in fake offense, hand over his chest like he took a literal bullet. “No seriously, you’re covered in paint. Go get in the shower and I’m going to grab breakfast… or is it lunch?”
Having to drag Juan to the shower was an effort in and of itself but once he finally stops trying to chase your touches, which neither of you want to admit is harder said than done, you’re able to make your way over to the rest of camp.
At the first touch of light to your eyes, a wince falls from you as you realize just how truly dark the bunker is. It shouldn’t be a shock and yet it is, to see how crystal blue the water is, the way boats and buoys bounce along the water by the docks, the little deck chairs tucked under an umbrella by the shore where you and Juan have spent many sunsets just enjoying nature. All of it is so overwhelming, so real and it's the first time you’ve taken a moment to appreciate just how much you’ve missed it– missed being home after so many months stranded on that Island. Almost everyone at Libertad thought, for at least a moment, that we wouldn’t be making it out alive. That we’d all die on that Island, the last remnants of resistance in Yara would be lost to the swarm of soldados and heavily armed vehicles. But being here. Just getting the see birds fly overhead and the crabs waddle aimlessly is all the evidence you need to know that you’ve made it. 
In the center of camp it's full of noise. Everyone is moving around you, not relaxing even for a moment as they begin planning next moves and latest attacks, chasing up potential leads on shipments and finding weak spots on shipping routes to intercept supplies. Clara’s base of operations is truly up and running.
The rustle of movement, the constant noise from an array of guerrillas loading gear, climbing watchtowers and even just eating in the common areas– all of it brings a certain level of comfort now that you’re all back home. When on Isla Santuario, the noises only brought you stress, a constant reminder of danger and the pressing need to escape such a place. Now those same noises make you feel at home, the sense of community making you feel safe and protected as you take a seat at one of the tables alongside Julio.
Both of you gaze out to the scene in front of you, noting how Dani is getting her proper induction into Libertad’s ranks. Clara takes her through the maps of Yara, teaching her the back routes and all the known safehouse locations, where to find caches if she needs supplies and makes sure her phone has everyone’s number in case she needs to find backup. The two stand shoulder to shoulder as she speaks, brushing arms as she shows Dani who are our allies in the fight against Castillo. Fingers brush together, little intimacies that would otherwise be missed if you weren't looking, if everyone wasn’t so acutely aware of how the Queen of Libertad has taken a liking to the newest guerrilla. It looks so easy, and comes so naturally to them. How Clara can see through Dani and trust her with her life despite knowing her for such little time. A part of it hurts, in a way, when you think of your own unspoken thing with the spy master of camp. The way you two dance around feelings, held back by fear and years of trauma, always hesitant to touch in public because being in public means being perceived and being perceived means putting a name on such a mess of feelings.
It’s messy, and painful. The way you both want to just be and yet you’re both too scared to act on it for fear it’ll change things. And you’ll both be damned if things change for the worse. It’s not perfect, what you two have– far from it. It can’t be, not in Yara where you could lose everything and everyone at any given moment, so you’ll take whatever the hell you have together because it’s better than having nothing at all.
“How much do you wanna bet those two will be hitched before Castillo’s government collapses?” Juilo’s joke is a welcome distraction, and both of you chuckle at the way Dani not so subtly sways into Clara’s touch like a woman starved of water.
“I’ll give you all my moneda that those two end up together long before we get even the Montero’s on our side.”
The two of you share a pleasant small talk, cracking little inside jokes and making bets like the old friends you two are. You’ve known him for longer than most, offering him a place at Libertad once cities went into lockdown and people started rioting. Both of you bloomed under Clara and it felt so natural to make a family amongst the crew as he befriended everyone and of course, his beloved Lita. You don’t talk about it, but you’ve known him long enough to see the sadness in his eyes, the way any mention of romantics reveals his sadness, the emptiness and grief he feels from losing her. All of it is hidden behind jokes, behinding fighting and the life of a guerrilla. All of you are hiding something, holding in grief and pain. For some it’s more obvious, the way Juan will drink himself to the bottom of a barrel or how Julio plays Lita’s Bella Ciao almost every night. But for others, like yourself, it’s hidden behind a plate of armor– where fighting and freedom is your passion because if you let yourself feel anything else, if you think about it for too long you’ll realize you have the same pain as everyone else.
The thing for Libertad is you’re all good at not talking about it, or only talking about it through off-handed jokes and small talk. Everyone understands the shared pain, just about every member knows who is grieving and who has trauma. It’s never talked about, never judged, no. Instead it’s met with curt nods of understanding and the offer of distraction– where the very concept of Libertad acts as a way for people to forget who they are, to forget the baggage they carry and to fight for something better than themselves.
It’s a comfort, one that you’re thankful for as Juilo offers you a plate of food and a coffee, a small luxury everyone got to indulge in when Libertad had raided Anton’s warehouses not some months ago. It had been storing an abundance of imported goods like coffee beans, spices, sugar cane and an array of other indulgent items a dictator deemed necessary for his lavish lifestyle up in the capitol. 
Both of you salute with your cups, smiling as they clank together in one of those wordless confirmations that says you’re both happy to be back home despite it all. It’s blissfully domestic as everyone moves around you and eventually he asks you to join him for a raid on a weapon shipment McKay had recently brought in.
“Intel says he’ll be moving it all to Madrugada for José, ‘m thinking we can grab it whilst it passes through Valle de Oro.” Julio says with a mouthful of food, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before it extends and you shake on it. With a nod of approval from you, he brings you in for a hug, always the reliable guerrilla and you can’t help but feel excitement for getting back into the swing of things.
You turn your attention over to Benito who’s just arrived at the docks with a few of Juan’s crew as they start unloading crates and boxes of god knows what. Their signature yellow shirts always stand out. It’s to build team morale, you can almost hear the spymaster say it. But you know more than anyone else that the older guerrilla just loves it when someone is wearing a shirt with his face on it. His ego always overjoyed at the sight.
They’re currently trying to drag the heavy crates up to the center of camp and you watch as surrounding guerrillas jump up from their tables to help push them onto stable land. It’s then that you notice Benito is walking over to you, carrying some of the precious cargo before he plops it onto the table in front of you.
“Oye, this got shipped in this morning with your name on it. Courtesy of Big Papí.” 
Your eyes scan over the boxes only to see viviro stickers plastered along the sides and a letter hastily folded into the side. It’s mostly redacted, completely unreadable besides from a few very direct and blunt orders to leave it at a drop site for collection, with the ambiguous promise of a payment sometime in the near future. All of it signed by the United States’ Central Intelligence Agency requesting more of the miracle drug. Comemierda.
“How much more of this do these pendejos need? Our last shipment to the Yanquis wasn’t even a month ago.” Your eyes scan back over the letter, trying to find an explanation as to why they might want more so soon after you and Juan had risked your lives to get it to them.
Coming up with nothing, you look up to Benito with hopes that he or maybe one of Juan’s spies has an answer but he only offers you a shrug. Totally indifferent to the letter mostly because he won’t be the one delivering it. “Eh, it brings in good money.”
“Ugh, now you sound like Juan.” You groan.
“It's not my fault Libertad is getting expensive. In my day you didn’t need the Yanquis to fund un revolución” Speak of the devil, Juan comes wandering into camp just in time to hear the back end of the conversation. His hair is a wet mop, still damp as guapo gallops in after him and rolls around in the sand by the fire pit. There’s a towel sitting around his shoulders, the offending item barely passing as one, not with the amount of oil stains and grease on it but you still can’t help the way he looks good with the sun shining down on him and those goofy hawaiian shirts that have come to suit him so well.
Besides you, Benito is bickering with Juan’s spies about having to get it back in the boat again if you’re going to have to deliver it, the fisherman doing his best to rope Julio into helping him with the heavy lifting but you’re too busy watching Juan wander over to the crates to inspect it. He removes the lid and picks up a pill bottle to shake it, holding it near his ear to listen to the rattle against the glass. He’s about to open it when you quickly swipe it from his hands, swapping it with your mug of coffee to him to sip on instead.
“Mission first, then get shitfaced– common, there’s important work to do and I need help gearing up.” You watch as he takes a sip, eyes closed as he lets the steam from the coffee fall over his face and you’re suddenly so aware of how at peace he looks, so far detached from how he can get on the battlefield. It’s only then do you realize you haven’t seen him like this in a long time, even when he’s happy around camp he’s rarely content and you want him to stay like that for as long as this revolución will allow.
“Need me to come with you?” He says over the lip of the mug, sharp green eyes finding yours.
You shake your head, no. But of course he’s stubborn in every way, so whether you want him to come along or stay behind on any of your missions, he will always find a way to disagree. 
He’s still concerned with leaving you to this one alone even as he helps you gear up, always checking and rechecking with you as he tightens your armor and does some final touch ups to your supremo. You notice the nerves, the tremors of his hands as they hold onto you under the gear, some of it partly due to the caffeine and the other half due to the fear he gets before all missions. Where adrenaline builds up and spills over into unease, a fact of life he’s been able to hide behind liquor and pills for so long but gets harder to hide each passing day he spends with you.
“How many times have I done this run, mi viejo?” Your voice is soft, not an ounce of a lecture there just merely touched by his concern. Juan goes to respond but you’re quick to get another word in. “Countless. Now I don’t need you worrying, I’ve done this hundreds of times. Just place the viviro at the three lighthouses, all of them along the west coast where the Yanquis have marked as their pickup locations. I’ll be home at the end of the day before you know it, just like any one of your little spies would be if they were to do it.” 
“But you’re not just any one of my spies. You’re one of Clara’s best, if not the best of us and you’re my–” He cuts himself off, swallowing thickly and still unconvinced. “And you’re still healing from that shoulder injury–”
“Juan–” Now it’s your turn to cut him off, taking his hand in yours as he looks at you with wide eyes. So rarely do you ever use his first name instead of a list of nicknames you’ve given him, and it clearly grabs his attention. A shuddered breath leaving him as he waits on you. “It’s okay.”
The pads of your fingers run over his hands, brushing over the array of calloused scars, rings and tattoos that speak of a life of hardship and war. Both of you are watching the movement and you can’t help but break out into a small smile when his hand turns over in yours, always moving and molding with you in hopes of following your touch. Desperate for it as you link your fingers to actually hold his hand properly.
“Just let me do this one. You go ahead and relax, I’ll join you in no time.” You kiss his cheek, soft and chaste because you can tell he needs some physical affection without knowing how to ask for it. “Besides, Clara needs you here helping her plan the next steps for Libertad.”
Juan watches as you climb down into the boat, hand still holding yours as he helps you climb down onto the deck and only lets go once he knows you’re not going to slip off into the water. You wave goodbye as the engine starts up with a roar, your body turns to watch him sit upon wooden crates and waits for you to eventually leave his line of sight along the horizon.
Immediately after, he calls you anyway.
He talks your ear off the whole way across the archipelago and all the way up until your first lighthouse. Not that you’d ever complain. Listening to his stories, whether it’s old war tales or adventures from when he worked for Espinosa. It never fails to make your chest feel warm with an overwhelming sense of love, so much it hurts. 
Juan’s still talking even as you swing the grappling hook up to the railing of the lighthouse, albeit after many failed attempts. It’s harder to aim than you would have thought. Your arms burn with the weight of pulling yourself up, supremo and boxes of viviro included and you’re certain Juan’s having a one sided conversation with himself because there’s no way you can respond to his rambles with anything more than heavy breathing and groans as the rope burns your hands and if you were to let go, you’d fall to your death from thirty feet in the air.
After finally climbing over rusted railings, you find a little station to stash the viviro, tucking it between two broken slats of metal to keep it protected from the weather and any unwanted audiences. You sit down, exhausted and frustrated that this is just one of three you’ll need to climb this afternoon– not quite what you had planned at the start of such a peaceful morning.
The sight of a worn-down table draws you in, sitting down on one of the wooden chairs as it creaks and groans under you, the chipping blue paint masking its fragility. You gaze out onto the horizon, catching your breath just taking in the scene in front of you. It’s beautiful, the crystal blue water looks shiny as boats– both FND and locals alike drive over it, breaking the delicate shine to the waves as they create patterns of white wash across the water. Your elbow knocks against old beer bottles, the outside of them crusted in salt from how long they’ve been sitting there, abandoned and forgotten. There’s remnants of the people who once sat here, from the markings of initials along the metal outside of the lighthouse to the hastily scribbled notes left by long lost lovers who tried to find each other again along the peninsular. 
“Not a bad view up here, old man.” Your heart dips, a feeling of heartbreak sitting heavy in your gut at the sight of the empty chair next to you. “Shame you’re missing out. Maybe I should have asked you to tag along after all.”
Despite the tease of your words, the playful and lighthearted tone as it always is with you two, is missing– a painful, unspoken feeling bleeds into the meaning of your words. It’s been happening far too often these days. What was once so easy to hide before, has almost become unbearable to handle now that you’re away from each other. Maybe it was those months spent on Isla Santuario, or maybe it’s the fact you’re both realizing you don’t want to keep living in this perpetual cycle of not talking about things– about your feelings for each other. Either way, something has to give.
Your voice is left sad and defeated, tone flat and wobbly as you realize there will never be a moment with him where you can truly relax and wander around Yara freely. Not without a fucked up regime and the constant threat of violence. At least not in his lifetime, and your stomach twists in grief as you crave some ounce of normalcy– to have one moment with him where neither of you are worrying about who’s aiming behind you and can instead get lost in the love letters, salted beer bottles and striking sunsets in front of you.
A flicker of the empty chair catches in the corner of your eye again, and you fiddle with the corner of the fragile but forgotten love letter. Mostly as a distraction from the fact you long to be back with him in his bunker. At least when you’re there you can fabricate a reality between the two of you– all the cuddling up on his stained couch pretending there’s no revolution outside, or that you’re both not living as outcasts, as guerrillas fighting for a better Yara.
“Take a picture?” He asks. And your chuckle is wet, throat tight in a strange overwhelming feeling to hold back any tears threatening to fall.
“S’not gonna be the same.” But even as you say it, you’re already clicking send, weak to anything he asks for and a wobbly smile breaks out on your face as you see he’s received the message.
“Well then, next time I better get my ass over there to be with my favorite guerrilla– can’t have you wreaking havoc on Anton’s soldados and enjoying the best of Yara’s views. Just wouldn’t be fair.” Juan jokes, laughter coming through as static from how close he holds the phone to his cheek.
“Well then, it’s a date.”
“...A date?” He sounds so surprised through the phone, like he imagined the last part up. It makes you smile fondly, eyes trained on the afternoon sun beaming over the horizon as it sits alone in a sky of blue. Not even Yara’s poor reception is enough to hide the way he’s breathing heavily in anticipation, in disbelief. 
“Mhm, I’ll even bring the rum.” You can hear the almost nervous inhale through the phone, the way Juan pauses before saying anything. 
A beat passes. And suddenly you’re the nervous one, like you’ve said the wrong thing and the fear you’re both so used to is back again. All of this so new, so open and exposed like you’ll both tread on landmines and spoil the whole thing in seconds.
“Unless you don’t want it to be?”
“¿Qué? And stay here growing old, only to miss my chance with you? Like hell.” Juan’s quick to answer, over eager like he’s terrified this might be the moment where he fucks everything up. Impossible, you think. The old man could do something as ridiculous as sell out Libertad and even under all the disappointment and anger you’d feel, there would always be a part of you that still loved him.
“Well, I know Clara’s been asking me to teach Dani the ropes. And I’ve been meaning to liberate Fort Santa María for a while now– you know I’ve always loved walking around the old guerrilla paths around there and Guapo could use a walk through the mangroves…” Your voice is hopeful, ending on a higher pitch like you’re not confident in asking him to join you on something that is decidedly not related to a mission. Like just asking him to a walk around the water is equal parts absurd and unattainable, and maybe it is, for guerrillas like you.
A chuckle rumbles through the phone, one that’s warm and authentic as he hums in delight. “I’d like that.”
It’s not perfect. Not at all. It’s nowhere near close to one of those romantic dinners you’ve seen on those old fifties black and white films that still manage to play back on Juan’s television amongst all of Castillo’s propaganda. It’s not one of those picnic dates Clara’s told you about from her time before Libertad, back when she was living the dream at Espinosa University. A far cry from anything you had growing up as one of Yara’s infamous outcasts. But you wouldn’t change it for the world if it meant having your not-so-romantic ‘liberate a military base turned date’ with the spy legend.
You begin to make your way back down from the lighthouse, aware that you can’t just sit down all day and think about what could and couldn’t happen in the future. Not when there’s deliveries to be made and promises to keep that you’d be back by tonight. You secure the grappling hook to the railing, tugging on it to make sure you’re not about to fall to your death before swinging your legs over the edge as you make your descent down.
Really, it would’ve just been easier to parachute down than to burn your hands even further with the rope. But your knees took such a blow from all the running around on Anton’s ships that you’d rather save yourself from the inevitability of pulling the string too late and ending up flat on your back. Sore hands it is.
Juan has already started rambling again, babbling about his time in the KGB and a part of you wonders whether he’s entirely sober or not.
“¡Oye, cariño! Did I ever tell you of the time I brokered a deal between the Yanquis and the Sinaloa cartel back in eighty-nine?”
“Enlighten me.” You encourage him, a teasing tone bleeding into your words.
“Fucking drug-lord wanted to stash their cash in American realestate so they could launder it. Fifty million dollar deal, cariño! I even got them to throw in a few kilos– sold it all on the black market for a profit.” Juan boldly recounts his story, and you can almost picture the way he’s got the phone pressed between his shoulder and cheek in an effort to talk with his hands. No doubt holding a cigar and waving smoke everywhere as he talks.
“Let me guess, you lost it all at the tables in Monte Carlo and had nothing but a cool story to tell by the end of it?” Your question is lighthearted, told in that soft, taunting way that you only reserve for him.
A dry, curt chuckle comes through the phone and you can almost picture Juan rubbing his head into his hands in that painstaking way he tends to do when he’s had too much to drink and is caught up in another one of his stories. “Aye, I’ve told you this one already, haven’t I?”
Juan sounds almost self depreciating, ashamed. Like his stories aren’t good enough for you anymore. As if you’d ever get tired of hearing them. 
In your line of sight you catch the flicker of light from the second drop location, rounding the corner on one of Madrugada’s red dirt roads to reveal the lighthouse sitting out on the point. Your hands grip the rifle, aware of how guarded this territory is now that José has cracked down on tobacco production. Juan’s makeshift earpiece has been your lifesaver. Giving you the ability to run around Yara with both your hands free has its perks– all the while you can keep talking to him over the phone.
You have a fleeting suspicion he made them for you, just so he had an excuse to talk to you on missions when he’s not physically with you. Trust the old timer to be clingy.
“Mi viejo, you could tell me that story a hundred times along with all the other ‘tales of the infamous Juan Cortez! Guerrilla legend and spy master!’ ” Your voice is animated, playful and light as you poke fun at the countless books he’s written about himself– all of it to mask the fact that you love just sitting and listening to everything he’s willing to share, a part of you desperate to soak it all up. His wisdom, his crazy schemes and near death experiences. Anything you can get your hands on because underneath it all, you’re just as attached and desperate to be close to him as he is to you. 
“I’m never going to get tired of listening to you, old man.” You say earnestly, meaning every second of it.
“Good, because you know I get lonely.” The way Juan says it makes your heart break, like it’s some undeniable truth for him. A fact of life, that he’s destined for nothing more than a life of fighting, only to realize there’s no-one in his life left to fight for. “Talking makes it easier to forget that.”
“Well as long as you’ll have me, mi viejo… I won’t let you feel alone–”
Crack.
The second you open the door of the smaller lighthouse, the blunt end of a rifle collides with your nose. You feel something break, pain spreading all over you as you hit the floor with a harsh thud. Everything is a blur, a disoriented fuzz as you try to recognise the people in front of you beyond just smudges of red and white.
It’s like everything is drowning under water as you try your best to keep your eyes open, desperately clinging to your surroundings in hopes it keeps you conscious. You can faintly hear the sounds of yelling. A distinct grumble you’ve come to find comforting over the years, but it’s muffled, far away and lost behind the glass case of a phone. Swallowed by the ringing in your ears and the throbbing in your head, no doubt from a broken nose. 
“¿Cariño? Fuck–”
You’re helpless to do anything. Unsure of whether the bag placed over your head is what finally blocks your vision out or if it's the significant head trauma that gets to you first. Either way, you can’t do much more than sag against the ground, the last remnants of energy leaving you as you’re dragged away.
 ~
Juan stood still at the sound of you hurt, his back still and taught at the sound of bone breaking. He can’t know for sure what happened, he’s not there with you. But he knows you’re hurting. He heard your cry of pain, could hear the thud of what he assumed was you hitting the floor. He heard muffled voices and footsteps as he tried to call out to you, desperate to help you in some way until the phone call was cut by whoever was on the other end with you.
He’s equal parts enraged that someone snitched, that clearly they were expecting you. Lying in wait till you entered whichever lighthouse they thought best to grab you. He doesn’t know who took you or where or who dared rat out Libertad. Whether it was one of his spies or a guerrilla in the ranks. Hell, it might’ve been the Yanquis for all he knows, and it’s all he will know for the time being. He won’t talk to anyone beyond Clara about this– not trusting anyone with your life. 
And yet, at the same time he’s also a mess. It doesn’t take much for him to spiral, for him to overthink. He’s terrified that they have you, whoever they are. Heart stricken with fear of losing you. Juan’s almost certain it’s the FND by the very fact they haven’t tried to contact Libertad. This isn’t a prisoner swap or some other rebel group looking to get back at Libertad for past transgressions, no. It’s got to be the FND, with one of Clara’s highest ranked, most respected guerrillas in the palm of their hand, who’ll do whatever they want to get their information.
The better part of an hour is spent staring holes into the bottom of a bottle of rum, drinking himself into a daze as he tries to comprehend just how the hell he could’ve let you slip away from him so easily. He mumbles hopelessly to Guapo about anything and everything– about how he’s scared but also so barrelled over for you that just talking aloud about every little detail he finds himself fixated on, helps him forget the fact you’re even missing in the first place. He grips the neck of the bottle to hide how his hands shake, willing himself to look up from the ground as Clara comes to find him.
“I heard about what happened.” She looks equally worried, not only for you but for Juan himself. “Just let me round up the scouts we need–none of us know how bad it could be but we’ll get them back.”
He takes one final swig of the bottle, holding it high so the last drops of rum make it before he tosses it and stands on weak knees. None of it alcohol induced. Juan goes to head for his helicopter, patting down the breast pocket in his Hawaiian shirt to look for his keys but is abruptly stopped by Clara’s hand on his wrist. 
“Are you sure you’re okay to go out there? We can handle this one, old friend.” She gives a sympathetic smile, like she knows the answer already but still isn’t afraid to ask. Always the one to look out for the people she cares about most.
“I can’t just sit and let them fucking die–coño! What if they–” Juan takes a breath, pinching in between his nose to try and stem the nausea, the awful feeling growing in his stomach. A feeling all too familiar to him as he’s suddenly reminded of how many people he’s lost to situations just like this one. “Por favor, Jefa.”
He’s not one for begging. Never are the days where Juan Cortez, spy master and guerrilla legend, is caught begging. But he’d bend every one of his guerrilla rules, throw out any moral obligation or loyalty to whoever if it meant being with you, if it meant seeing you safe.
Because he loves you.
The truth of that statement scares the shit out of him. Almost as much as losing you. Juan Cortez is not a man who has ever let emotions get to him, never been one to love anything but his work– only letting himself one thing, resolver.
But you, one of Clara’s best guerrillas, slowly chipped away at that old rusted heart of his, as cliche as it may be. You’re the only one brave enough, persistent enough to crack down his walls. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel at home, to feel safe enough to let you into his life.
Juan’s shown you countless things about resolver, about how to navigate a warzone, how to outsmart the other side. He’s taught you how to pull apart helicopters and snipers before putting them back together so they’re new and improved, better than they ever were before. But you taught him how to slow down. You showed him how to appreciate life beyond just a series of conflicts, to see that people are worth loving. That not everyone who is out there is trying to kill you or betray you– that there’s more to life than just a constant battle for money and power.
You’ve pulled him apart and put him back together better than any weapon or vehicle. He should be shocked, and he is partly. A part of him waiting for the moment where some appalled stunned feeling washes over him from the fact that you’ve changed him. But he can’t, not when it just feels so natural, so good to have you back in his life. And for the first time in a long time, Juan realizes that he doesn’t want to go back to how things were in his life before this, before you.
A part of it all feels like a dream. That you were never really real. How could you be? How could someone like Juan Cortez ever be so lucky as to have someone as kind and good-hearted as you in his life.
You’re much too good for him. This guerrilla with a precious heart. The one who would lay down their life for the greater good of Yara if need be, the one who would stop at nothing to look out for your family. You’re more than kind to the children that run around Clara’s island, playing games of fútbol and making sure they have all the food their growing bodies need– knowing that most of Libertad’s members came from rundown orphanages and the streets. Where a good meal was a rarity in and of itself, much less someone willing to feed them. You took the rookie Dani Rojas under your wing without a second doubt, teaching her everything you know so she could be greater than Libertad and all of you combined. This golden guerrilla who he’s fallen so completely and wholly in love with. You’re too good to be true, and yet true all the same.
Juan wants to go after you, so desperate to see you safe again but he knows Clara won’t let him go alone. Hell– Guapo wouldn’t let him board his chopper if he knew. He can’t leave, not without the proper support but Clara needs time to do that. To rally up trusted guerrillas, ones who know you personally, who would have never betrayed you in the first place and that’s time he just doesn’t have.
And he feels helpless against it, drowning in guilt and a whole lot of rum just to try and stop thinking about the fact you’re gone. That this might be it… the last he’ll ever see of you.
To think that you were just on the phone with him, so cheerful and full of love despite having listened to his tired old stories for the hundredth time. So excited to hear him talk like it's the first time and he almost can’t believe it. He can’t make sense of the fact you enjoy his company, for some strange reason. That you’re actually excited for this impossible date that still feels too good to be true. 
But all of that could be whisked away in a heartbeat– because he was so stupid to send you out there alone. And so he stays in that helpless cycle for the remaining hours of the night, watching as the sun starts to emerge from the horizon. A silent prayer repeating from his lips that hopes you’ll emerge along with each ray of light that shows itself.
Clara gets into the swing of things at around six in the morning. Boats ready, ammo stacked, weapons prepped and loaded. It’s a close knit group waiting for Juan at the wharf, only a handful of her most trusted guerrillas.
One of Benito’s closest informants got word you’re being kept in the old colonial cells underneath Tempestad Lighthouse, guarded by the most armed forces in FND ranks and are being interrogated by Anton Castillo himself.
Please just be alive. His palms are sweating as they head over to you, the old spymaster fiddling with his hat atop of his head in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that if things go wrong it’ll be the end of everything. Don’t let me be too late. The boat drags heavy in the water, every second passing feels slow– like a missed opportunity to do something. I won’t be able to live with myself if I lose you.
Juan does his best to ignore the concerned gaze of both Dani and Clara who are in the boat beside him and yet he can’t help but notice how they silently communicate their worry to each other.
None of it quite feels real when the boat lands on the soft sand of the shore just south of the lighthouse in hopes to keep themselves hidden. Putting one foot in front of the other as he clutches his sniper like life support and takes position upon the hills overlooking the entrance. Clara kneels down in the shrubs beside him, laying flat in the grass so she can look through binoculars and find where Juan can see through the scope of his sniper.
Both of them see how Dani and Julio take parallel sides of the building, covering all the exits leading to the lighthouse via road whilst Benito keeps the engine off the boats and floats nearby in case of any need for a quick getaway. Like he’d leave without you.
There’s soldados everywhere, heavy gunners walking up along the banks, snipers positioned on the balcony, flamers blocking exits and RPG’s stationed along the walls of the Spanish fort. And for a moment, nothing moves. Comms are quiet as everyone learns the routes of soldiers, watching from afar to catch their weak spots– to see what gives.
But no window of opportunity comes. The soldados are special forces. They’re not drunk and half asleep like they are on road checkpoints or even the less guarded military bases. They aren’t bickering and playing cards or making bets with pesos and keychains. No. These are Castillo loyalists, the best there is to offer. They’re on edge, fingers poised on the trigger as their eyes follow red lasers across the horizon, scanning the environment for any signs of movement. These soldados are heavily armed, highly protected and highly skilled at taking out the enemy.
If something doesn’t give now, nothing will.
“Fuck this.” He whispers under his breath, hands gripping his sniper in frustration from being held back.
Juan goes to get up from the ground, Guapo shuffling around like he’s ready to follow in after him. He won’t let you die and he’ll be damned if he just lets it happen by sitting around watching a bunch of no good Castillo loyalists pace the dirt roads leading to the lighthouse.
“Wait! Wait! Look… armed convoy.” Clara pulls him back down low to the ground by the sleeve of his shirt before he can even really move. She gestures to the arrival of three vehicles, two trucks which open to reveal even more soldados with a tank sitting in the middle of it.
“Jefa, fuck waiting around! If we don’t do something–”
“If we move too early, then all of this will be for nothing.” She answers swiftly. Juan swallows thickly, a lump forming in his throat as guilt washes over him and settles in his stomach.
She’s right. Now is not the time to be reckless. No amount of supremos will get you out of there. They’re decidedly outmatched and unmanned– ill equipped to do this guns-blazing. Juan’s heart clenches at the memory of you two playing rock, paper, scissors to decide whether things should be stealth or not. He always knew what you’d pick, that you’d be the voice of reason when you knew going in supremo first would get you killed more likely than it would get the job at hand done.
Juan tries to tell himself that. Hearing your voice of reason repeat in his head like his favorite records in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. For you.
That is, until he hears it.
The rumble of rock under the ground, a distant sound of a muffled explosion– something like a grenade or a pipe bomb being let off in a bunker, or a cell. The increased panic of the guards puts everyone on edge and he can hear Clara next to him, desperately trying to make sense of what’s happening over the radio. 
Something is wrong.
A fire breaks out from the base of the lighthouse, smoking filling rooms and blocking windows. Heavy puffs of black start to seep into the air through the bars of cells that have been welded into the cliffside. You’re in there, he thinks as his body starts moving against the actions of everyone. A siren rings out, or maybe it’s just the ringing of his ears but he doesn’t want to waste another second when he knows time is working against you.
Fuck it. Juan makes a bolt for it. He can’t wait knowing you’re in there– knowing you’ll be gone whether it’s Castillo’s guards that get you or the burning of flames. If there’s one good thing he can do, it’s be there to save your life. His golden guerrilla who deserves more than he could ever give and yet he’d give everything to see you okay.
“Juan don’t–”
~
You don’t know how long it’s been since the lighthouse incident. All you know is you’re inside a cell. The walls are damp and stained with salt, blood and god knows what else. You can hear the sound of waves crashing against rock, the noise bringing you to the conclusion that you haven’t ventured far from where you were ambushed along the water’s edge.
Everything is a blur, unsure as to whether this is the first time you’ve been conscious since arriving or whether it’s been days, weeks or even months. Time has warped as you try to focus on anything around you, the carvings on the concrete walls, the puddle of blood you refuse to believe is yours or the flicker of the oil lamp against the adjacent wall. Anything, in hopes that it might help you get out of this mess.
There’s pain everywhere, each fragment of your body rigid with scorching agony. Your hands have since lost their feeling after being held above your head for so long and you’re certain there are teeth missing if you actually try to focus on where the pain is actually coming from.
It’s all so blurry that you barely recognise Castillo when he’s finally standing in front of you. The dictator trying to teach his hijo a lesson but his words and lectures fall on deaf ears, drowned out by screams which must be your own as you cling on to the last remaining thoughts keeping you together.
You don’t know how it happens. But between your fourth broken bone and your fifth tooth you manage to claw your way out of Anton’s hands. A grenade was let loose, a fire starting in the process but you don’t stop to think about how it happened, rather that it did happen. Your body is in overdrive, running on adrenaline and fear to get you up the flight of stairs as flames engulf the cells below you.
Sprinting in an urgent attempt to stay alive, you climb your way through suffocating vents and desolate rooms until finally you come bursting out the cliffside and over into the water.
It hits you like a freight train, how cold the water is, but it never felt better as it cools your sweltering body down from the inferno you just escaped from. The throbbing in your joints is soothed by the ocean, the stiffness wearing off from having been suspended for so long. It’s so peaceful in the water, so easy to lose yourself and your eyes close as the tide holds you gently. And you think, for a moment, that this wouldn’t be such a bad place to go.
But that thought is gone the second it arrives, ripped away by the sound of muffled yelling, all distant and broken. The feeling of being pulled from the water gives you whiplash, causing a string of coughs and curses as you’re pressed against a warm chest. Fingers tangle into your hair, doing their best to hold you gently and yet desperately holding you so close it could break you.
You’re safe. You know it.
You can feel it in the way you’re being held, by the faint feeling of kisses pressed to your hair and the whispered apologies against your skin. Leaning into the touch, you let yourself take deep breaths to the rhythm of the heartbeat you’re pressed against. It’s enough to calm you down, for the adrenaline to leave your body as you fall out of consciousness once again and exhaustion has you collapsing into the warm weight below you. This time knowing you’re in safe hands and on your way home.
– 
When you come to, the first thing you register is the tent covered with Libertad’s symbol and the crystal blue sky that shines through the seams. The smell of the ocean is what hits you first, the tell-tale signs of being back on the archipelago followed by the smell of what must be Benito’s freshly caught seafood smoking over the fire.
You must be close to the center of camp, most likely in the medical tent if common sense tells you anything but you won’t know for sure because turning your head feels like more of an effort than you can handle right now.
“The legend returns!” Your eyes shoot open to Clara García sitting beside you, her gentle voice excited as she sees you’re finally awake. One hand rubs your shoulder, careful to put any pressure on it whilst the other replaces a damp cloth on your forehead. “How are you feeling?”
Words can’t even describe how you’re feeling. Your body is so exhausted and wound up that it can’t even draw the line between your physical and emotional pain. You’re sure that you look like a mess, bruised and broken but alive and that’s really all that could matter.
“Oh you know, a little under the weather but I’ll manage.” You joke, smiling through the pain in your back and the way you shift uncomfortably under a layer of bandages and plaster.
“I’m glad to see that sense of humor didn’t get lost.” She smiles down at you, fingers brushing your hair from your forehead as she takes in the sight of her dear friend. “I won’t keep you, I just needed to check that you’re okay first. But I think there’s someone who’s been waiting to see you for a while now.”
She goes to leave, carefully getting up from the bed but pausing as you muster up the energy to gently take her wrist. Clara spins back around, looking down at you with concern in her eyes.
“I didn’t talk, Jefa… just so you know– whatever you think happened. It didn’t. You know I’d never.”
“I know,” She softens, leaning down to kiss your forehead before getting up once more. “We’re family. Now you’ll let me know if you need anything alright?”
Before you know it she’s outside. And not even a beat later, in comes a very disheveled and stressed Juan Cortez rushing through the flaps of the tent, his hair unkept and his eyebags heavy like he hasn’t slept since you two arrived back to camp. Maybe he hasn’t.
Your hand reaches out for him weakly, dropping it in his palm as he hastily stumbles over to you. “Oh, mi viejo–”
“Lo siento,” Juan chokes back a lump in his throat, bringing the back of your hand to his lips as he whispers against your skin. “Lo siento mucho. Fallé, debería haber estado allí. perdóname, cariño.”
Your fingers brush over his cheek, knuckle catching at the stray tear that falls from the clumps of his eyelash in a desperate attempt to soothe him.
“Hey now, I’m here.” You do your best to bring him into an embrace, attempting to hold him close as best you can without causing any further pain. “I’m safe now, ‘m not going anywhere. Lo prometo, mi viejo.” 
Juan lets out a shuddery breath, turning into your hold as you run your fingers through his hair and brush over the edge of his ear with your thumb. It’s surreal to have him here, in your arms after thinking that you’d never live to see him again.
The reality of it all has you wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, holding him close albeit weakly as you cling to his shirt with what little strength you have left. The heat from his body warms you, filling your chest with something like relief. As if surviving this means you’ll be able to survive whatever emotional baggage the two of you are sitting on.
He smells like alcohol and dirt. Like salt water and gunpowder. On any other day you’d beg him for a shower, threaten to feed him to the sharks if he refused. But it’s just so good to be with him that you don’t even care for a second. Your face is pressed into his neck, breathing him in as your arm slides down to wrap around his waist to pull him closer. Neither of you speak, too overwhelmed to do anything behind taking each other in.
Until it’s him who winces in pain.
You pull away to see him tugging at the sleeve of his bicep, noting the bandage that is tucked away underneath it. He must have gotten it before he pulled me from the water.
“Did you go looking for trouble again, old man?” Juan laughs softly, a noise you’ve missed hearing as he scoots you across the medical bay and cuddles up beside you. He rests his head on your shoulder, arm draped loosely over your middle as he hesitantly tries to avoid your injuries but still can’t stand the thought of letting you go.
“Does it count as trouble if I was trying to save you?” He asks confidently, sighing in relief as one of your hands tangles in his hair again whilst the other moves to hold his on top of your stomach.
“Mhmm, it still counts, I'm afraid.” you kiss his head, letting your nose be tickled by loose strands of gray and you think of how easy it would be to fall asleep just like this. “Missed you.”
It’s so soft and mumbled into the mess of his hair, eyes closed and sleepy. So much so that you’re almost certain he couldn’t hear it.
“I don’t deserve you.” He counters, equally soft and whispered as he rolls into your embrace more. Like a cat starved of attention or Guapo when he’s trying to charm you into getting more treats.
“Oh mi querido. Eres un tonto, ¿Lo sabías?” You mutter. He lifts his head, ready to rebuke you as he stares– shocked and wide eyed down at you. His mouth is open in a pout and you finally decide to rip the bandaid off, bringing him in for a kiss with a gentle hand under his chin. Both of you sigh in a mix of relief and euphoria as you get to kiss him properly. It’s careful and weary, if not for your injuries than for the fact you’re both cautious of ruining such a moment. But that fear ebbs away with each breathy exhale and gentle brush of lips. “Love you, mi viejo. Need you to know it, too.”
When you pull away, he’s breathless against you, nose bumping your bruised one but any pain it causes you is ignored for the way he looks at you. So captured and in love it looks like it hurts, in the best kind of way.
He doesn’t say it back, doesn’t need to when he’s bringing you back in for kisses and holding you gentle and firm. There will be a time when he’s ready for words but for now both of you are content to hold each other, to indulge in little kisses and touches that you otherwise wouldn’t have let yourself have. You get lost in the way he kisses over every inch of your face, moving from your lips to your cheeks to your eyelids and up to your temples and crown before dropping back down to your jaw. Juan worships every part of you, and you reciprocate as best you can in your weakened state, tracing over the lines of his tattoos and drawing patterns on the back of his shirt. 
You wish you could do more but your body has a limit when it's healing, so you’re more than happy to reciprocate his kisses and hold on for the rest of it. Your chin tucked protectively on top of his head once he finally yawns and tucks himself into your shoulder as a pillow.
“Oye, if you pull through, do you think we can still have that date?” Juan doesn’t lift his head, voice muffled into the skin of your neck and the collar of your shirt. His breathing evened out, sleep about to take you both and yet still clinging on because you’re both in disbelief that any of this could be real.
“When I pull through,” you correct, legs tangling with his own in the limited space the medical bay offers as you reach for a light blanket beside you and pull it over the two of you. “Then we can have that proper date. Promise.”
You think that’s the end of it, ready to fall asleep in the middle of Clara’s camp– in broad daylight as the rest of the camp moves around you. Exhaustion ready to take over as your breathing matches with his and you keep one hand pressed over his heart. You’re just about to drift off, eyes closed and surrounded by the feel of him when you hear it. A confession whispered on the fringes of consciousness, like something sacred only few are deemed lucky enough to hear it.
“Love you more, cariño.”
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xthescarletbitch · 2 years ago
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✦ masterlist: far cry 6 ✦
18+, mdni
a/n: a masterlist of all things far cry 6 on this blog. may contain spoilers.
|| requests. ||
❥ = contains smut
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f!dani rojas
nsfw alphabet ❥
a night in segunda
captures tag: #dani caps
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camila "la espada" montero
an arrangement (snippet—full fic in progress) ❥
such a good girl ❥
little white lie
hazy midnights
nsfw headcanons ❥
tag(s): #espadaposting & #camila yearning hours
captures tag: #espada caps
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clara garcía
nsfw alphabet ❥
captures tag: #clara caps
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mercedes "jonrón" martín
fix-it
good luck charm
captures tag: #mercedes caps
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