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its-deputy-caleb · 2 years ago

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My Juan of a Kind – Part Two

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

pairing: juan cortez x reader (background fem!dani x clara)

summary: uhh i’m terrible with these so its based across the opening missions, the guerrillas are looking to return to clara’s island. just lots of fluff with the stinky old man, some badass missions and some slow burn :)

note: howdyy everyone i’m back w my self indulgent juan fic and yes i went overboard here but who’s gonna stop me? i hope everyone is doin well whilst i cut back from writing for a bit to juggle uni and projects i wanna work on. also as prep for some other works i’m trying to work on (1) action scenes, (2) dani and clara as a pairing and their whole dynamic and (3) slow burn/dragging out fics whilst staying to plot-lines so feedback would be amazing, but pls enjoy this unedited chaos

description: gender neutral reader | fluff | 5617 words

“Mornin’ sleepyhead!”

Your face breaks out into a shit-eating grin at the sight of Juan jolting upright from his place on the workbench. His hat no longer covers his eyes as it fumbles to the floor in his confusion as his head lifts from his arms with a very unamused groan. With his eyes squeezed shut as to keep the unwanted sun out, he grumbles indistinguishably under his breath– probably complaining about waking up with a hangover.

“The day’s not getting any younger old man, there’s things to do– places to liberate and soldados to kill! Can’t sleep your way through a revolution.”

Juan cracks his back, stretching from the uncomfortable position of falling asleep at a workbench. It’s really not bed material, but no matter how many times he complains about it, you still find him passed out with his head in his arms atop of metal more often than not. But you can’t help but feel a certain fondness for his questionable sleeping habits as you recall all the times you’ve thrown a jacket or blanket over his shoulders to let him catch up on some much needed rest. As much as you tease him for sleeping in, you know better than anyone that Juan will avoid sleeping for whiskey any day, so you do what you can to make him comfortable.

You bend down to snatch his hat off the floor, dusting away stray bits of dirt before placing it atop of your own head. He’s more awake now, rubbing his temple no doubt to stem a splitting headache as he watches you lean against the metal table of his makeshift outdoor office.

“Clara wants us outta here as soon as possible, she wants to hit the barricade tomorrow night. We both know, we aren’t getting out of here without that helicopter of yours so she’s asked us to hit the anti-aircraft site– bosses orders,” Your hand holds out a bottle of water for him to drink, a soft smile on your features as you move from your serious guerrilla voice to something more gentle. “What do you say? Are you feeling up to it, mi viejo, or was stealing yesterday’s supply drop all you’ve got?”

Juan flashes a smile, one you know means he’s already agreed to join you but he hides it behind a large gulp of water as he throws his head back.

“I already have a contact waiting in that area– Raiza can handle it can’t she?” Juan reaches out for his cigar, holding it between his teeth as he pats down his clothes in search of a lighter.

You beat him to it, extending your arm out to light it. Smoke travels up into the air, diluting with the air as Juan takes a deep breath in effort to wake up properly, “nuh uh– common old man you know she’s busy scouting Fort Quito.”

Juan grumbles out something close to an annoyed huff, fingers flicking ash onto the ground. You remove his hat, placing it onto his head affectionately and both of you laugh as it squashes over his nose.

“Why can’t you just go?”

“Because I want you to come with me.”

Sometimes Juan can be a little shocked at your bluntness, often staring blankly at you in disbelief like he is now. Like he can’t process the way you never hesitate to choose to spend your time with him. It makes you smile and your chest feel warm at the gesture, and he’s told you on many of his drunken nights that he can’t understand why you’d want to spend time with a sad, lonely old man with a string of regrets and choices.

If only he could see himself the way you do.

Of course, those discussions of feelings are going to have to wait. At least until you can get off this island.

Juan, like the wicked spymaster he is, tries to bribe his way out with his favourite hamilton watch he acquired from god knows where.

“Bribery will get you nowhere Señor Cortez–”

“Please, it’s my way of saying thank you for yesterday,” Underneath his playful tone, you can hear a seriousness in his voice and if that wasn’t evidence enough, his fingers won’t stop fiddling with his cigar.

Clearly, something is still bothering him from last night. Maybe he still feels guilty about the tobacco plant and your injuries, or maybe he’s embarrassed about you coming to find him down in Armonía. Hell, maybe this whole island brings out a slurry of insecurities– you know for yourself Isla Santuario reminds you of Libertad’s hardships and the exhausting nature of la revolución. It’s not at all like Clara’s island on the Archipelago, a place that feels like home when curled up around a campfire or huddled away in Juan’s bunker with quality rum, uranium and good company.

“Keep it.” Your voice is gentle as your hands attach the watch to Juan’s wrist, just below his Matryoshka doll tattoo. The two of you are watching where your thumb rubs slow circles over the ink and many battlefield scars, the scene feeling completely domestic and serene despite all the movement of Clara's camp and chaos beyond the walls.

Eventually, you have to break the peaceful movement despite wanting nothing more than to spend a lazy morning with him. But that doesn’t stop you bending down to kiss his cheek, nor do you miss the way he melts into the stool and leans into you slightly. “Common, I bet there’s a stack of uranium waiting at that aircraft site.”

And boy, you’ve never seen Juan move faster than in that moment.

–

After a pit-stop to the communal coffee station on your way out of camp, the two of you made your way to Vencejo’s anti-aircraft site. Juan complains about his back as you both find cover in some longer grass, taking the moment of remaining undetected to scan the area.

Juan watches as you take out your phone, counting the number of assaulters, pistolas and unsurprisingly, heavy gunners surrounding the small military station. Shit. This may be harder than you’d anticipated if the amount of heavy artillery is anything to go by.

“How are we doing this? Stealth it or just guns blazing– guerrilla style.” Your voice is hushed, remaining low as not to alert the unsuspecting soldado standing just a few metres in front of you.

Your eyebrows raise when Juan holds his hands up to you, one flat to cradle the other which is shaped into a fist. “Rock paper scissors? The winner gets to choose.”

Juan’s shit eating grin has you rolling your eyes affectionately, holstering your pistol as you play best of three.

It was perhaps some level of luck that you’d emerged victorious, no doubt assuming the spymaster would choose the more chaotic approach of guns blazing which would’ve proven difficult with how heavily guarded the entire island is.

“Stealth it is then. Here take this– you’ll need it.” your hand reaches into your kit, pulling out two newly crafted silencers as you pass one to Juan. He graciously accepts it, taking a second to look over your resolver craftsmanship before screwing it to the end of his rifle.

“Not bad, cariño.”

“Ah well… I learnt from the best, no?”

Both of you suppress a chuckle as the soldado in front of you picks up on your voices, his hands tightening around his weapon as he wanders closer. Staying low, you crawl your way through the grass before grabbing the soldado with a firm hand over the mouth as you drag him down into the shrubs with you for a silenced kill. You notice how Juan has already made a move towards some of the other soldados who hit the ground one after the other.

Together, the two of you work your way up from the lower entrance of the Military bunker up to the anti-aircraft cannon. Each of you swaps between an array of silenced weapons from your silenced handgun, to your machete and even a bow you usually reserve for the odd hunting trip around Yara.

It’s not long before your guard drops, emerging from the cover of sandbags as the coast rings clear. Juan is already rummaging through FND maps and documents, seeing if there’s any valuable intel in the tents and you can’t help but laugh when he comes up short with nothing but a bunch of pin ups, propaganda and fishing flyers.

Your laugh dies immediately however when a flash of red and white pops up in your vision. A weakened soldado standing on wobbly legs behind Juan, who hasn’t seemed to notice the weapon currently being pointed at him.

Quick to act, you draw your own and bring him down efficiently as a confused Juan wonders why a bullet is flying past him.

“You’ve gotta secure your areas better old man, maybe you need glasses if your eyesight is going.”

“Hey! I’m not that old – besides I have better eyesight than you do.”

“Mhmm… whatever makes you sleep at night dear.”

The nickname has you both feeling flustered, a blush crawling up your neck as you try to move on from what you’ve just called him. Clearly he doesn’t seem to mind if his smile is anything to go by but the adrenaline wearing off has you feeling more embarrassed than usual.

Juan seems to forget it instantly at the sight of a container of depleted uranium over by an intel station. He picks the giant thing up with a huge smile on his face, like a child that’s just gotten what they wanted for their quinceañera as he practically hugs the emotional support uranium to his chest.

“I can’t fucking wait to add another sexy supremo to my collection!” His smile doesn’t leave as he dances awkwardly over to his car and loads it into the trunk. Strange… I don’t remember him parking it this close when we arrived. But you don’t get to think about it as he turns his attention to you, excitement written all over him. “Now, I hear you ask– Juan what supremo will you make this time? And to that I say a guerrilla has to be a sponge for inspiration and cannot be tied down with what they should or shouldn’t make.”

Juan closes the trunk of his 1956 Beaumont Valentina, leaning against it as he idly pulls out his second cigar of the day along with your lighter he seems to have claimed as his own now.

“Are we thinking medico or fantasma? Don’t forget you still have the designs for furioso.” Juan’s nose seems to scrunch up at that as he stares down at his unlit cigar.

“Eh, I think I’m going to add an extra canister for explosives before I make that one.” You hum in agreement, taking a spot beside him as he places the cigar between his teeth to use his hands. Juan pulls out a stick of dynamite as his head tilts up in a gesture towards the anti-aircraft cannon, “care to do the honours, cariño?”

You can’t help but smile fondly, letting him light his cigar before the fuse of the dynamite. There was nothing like béisbol practice as a child to help prepare you for hurling a stick of dynamite, the way you run three steps forward and roll your shoulders as the stick goes flying and an explosion of metal and fire goes flying.

Juan looks thoroughly impressed as he tosses the keys at you, both of you walking towards the front seats of the car as the fire starts spreading to the grass of the surrounding area and FND tents.

“You’re driving us back– there’s no way I could possibly drive with these old man eyes, remember?”

The ride back to Clara’s base is peaceful, the tunes from the radio mostly undisturbed from gunfire or chases from the FND as you steer clear of main roads and take the dirt tracks. Juan stretches out, legs extending like he’s a king being chauffeured around, which he is right now, whilst your fingers tap along the steering wheel.

Clara asked for the two of you to meet her at the heart of her camp around dusk, and considering how it’s only just gone midday then it’s perfect timing for the two of you to head to the more secluded area of camp and work on repairing his helicopter.

With soft melodies of Pedro Torrero blasting from Juan’s rickety old stereo, the two of you get to fixing his chopper. It’s mostly minor damage, with most of it occurring on the outer shell rather than any internal damage when it was grounded almost a month ago upon becoming stranded on the island.

Juan is propped on a makeshift stool, blowtorch in one hand and bottle of rum in the other.Well there goes the last of the health and safety protocols– if they even existed to begin with. His other hand holds a shard of fibreglass to protect his eyes in a poor attempt to mimic a welding helmet as he begins mending the tail rotor, humming under his breath with his shoulders relaxed.

You seize the opportunity to make a start on the engine, using a skateboard to roll underneath the vehicle as you begin taking apart hatches and oil gaskets. The cool afternoon breeze blowing under the helicopter keeps you cool and relaxed as you tinker with tiny parts, occasionally rolling back enough for Juan to drop tools and updated components into your hands.

The two of you work in a peaceful silence as the hours pass by, both of you enjoying such a quiet moment from a very stressful month stranded on Isla Santuario. It reminds you of your home on libertad Island, and the way both of you would spend hours huddled in his dark bunker creating supremos and scheming up plans to fuck with the FND. You could spend hours in there with him, time completely forgotten until late into the night where the two of you pop down to Clara’s camp in search of food or a top up of the rum stash.

Juan’s voice cuts through the melody of the radio, bringing you back to reality as you roll out from under the helicopter with the heel of your shoe. You lift your face shield to rest atop of your head, obscuring your hair as Juan offers a hand to help you up.

“Clara’s expecting us soon,” Juan wipes his hands on a rag, removing most of the grime and oil before wandering over to the workbench now harbouring his beloved sniper. “Here– when we hit the barricade later, I want you to use it.”

He passes it to you, checking it's reloaded and fully upgraded before placing it in your hands. It’s not often Juan lets you borrow his signature weapon, usually choosing to let it sit and collect dust in its leather case unless he’s using it. Of course, you can’t drive a helicopter and snipe FND simultaneously, but leave it to Juan Cortez to try it.

“Are you sure?”

He nods without hesitation.

“I promise I'll bring it back in one piece.” You give Juan a gentle smile, one that he returns, however it doesn’t reach his eyes and a sincere, solemn look washes over him for the second time today.

“Fuck the rifle– just promise me you won’t get into too much trouble down there… I can’t get you if I’m stuck in the skies,” You go to cut him off, to assure that he has nothing to worry about but Juan gets a word in before you can.

“We’ve got big plans after we get off this stinkin’ island– that depleted uranium isn’t going to build supremos on its own and the plan doesn’t involve you dying anytime soon.” His voice has the signature gravel to it, no doubt from years of yelling, drinking, smoking and god knows what else but it has a strain to it. A certain emotional edge to it, like he’s stressed and it’s only accentuated by his eyes are trained to his sniper instead of you.

“Look I’m not good with this thank you shit– and if it was anyone else I wouldn’t bother but fuck, you’re the only one that can pull me from the bottle and I keep worrying about what could happen– ah fuck it you know what I’m trying to say.”

“¿Por qué estás preocupado, mi viejo? está bien, lo prometo.” Your arms put the rifle back onto the workbench before wrapping your arms around him for a warm hug. It’s a little awkward at first, with neither of you ever really making such a direct approach beyond flirting and the unspoken cuddling which has quickly become a ‘no zone’ for talking about.

All the awkwardness ends when Juan exhales the breath he was holding and melts into your hold. Your head is smushed into his shoulder, both your arms wrapped loosely around him as you try to ease his worry with physical touch rather than words. Clearly it's working.

You can’t help but smile into his shirt when he makes no attempt to move despite the rustle of people gathering for Clara's meeting. In fact, as you pull away you can’t help but notice how Juan moves with you– until you’re both flush together, noses nearly bumping.

“If you think I’m dying any time soon, you’ve got it all wrong old man– as if I’d leave all the fun for you. Besides, I still have that bet with Juilo that i’ll take out more FND than you.” Your smirk mimics Juan’s own as you snatch up his rifle and some spare ammo, along with any extra gear you might need as the two of you wander down into the barracks of Clara’s camp.

–

Together, you and Juan wander into the open campsite just as Benito begins flaring up at the thought of attacking the barricade and finally, fucking finally, escaping this island.

“You want us to take down Antón's ships? We’re goddamn fishermen!”

“Then leave us to die again, my friend.”

Juan takes a comfortable seat away from the group, choosing instead to watch as Dani, Julio and Benito all watch in awe as Clara lights a blue flare, throwing it into the middle of last night’s campfire. You remain by Juan, choosing to clean your weapon and listen from afar.

You’ve made it clear which side you’re on, that you’re willing to fight and die beside Clara as an equal on the battlefield in this fucked up civil war. Ever since she rescued you and took you in, your loyalty has always remained with Libertad. If Clara says you’re attacking Antón’s ships, then you’re with her every step of the way.

Both you and Juan watch as she passes a flare to Dani, who throws one in beside her own. A huff of blue goes into the air, until a steady stream of smoke rises above the canopy– if Castillo’s soldier’s didn’t know where the hideout was before, they certainly do now.

“What’s the plan Jefa? For Antón to see us from the fucking capital?” Juan’s fingers roll the cigar in his tell tale sign of internal panicking.

“Getting cold feet old man?” Your elbow bumps against his own, using a tease to lighten the situation but you know without him having to say it that he appreciates the small gesture of affection.

“Yes.” Clara’s voice chimes in, full of authority like the leader of Libertad that she is. “You’ve got twenty minutes before Antón’s forces come. So you better start running.”

You watch as Clara tests the will of her people– of the Yarans just trying to fight for the right for a peaceful life. Nobody moves as she demands they flee, to run off and hide like fighting together as a family isn’t the last thing we have.

She picks up a flare, holding it out as she strides over to the two of you, “Rules of the guerrilla! Juan Cortez. A revolution is not won by the fearless…”

Juan looks over to you, the two of you sharing a nod as you both stand to join the circle.

“It is won by the feared.” You both say in unison as Clara places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing in an acknowledgment of your friendship and unwavering loyalty as you toss your own flare in with the heap.

“What does Antón Castillo fear? Free elections. Free expression. Free outcasts. A Yara free of Castillos.” She circles around to stand beside Dani, her stance wide and commanding as she gives her speech, “But he will fear nothing unless you’re willing to die for your freedom today– not when we have more believers or more guns. But today.”

There’s a splitting moment, time slowing as she removes herself from the anger of the revolution. Into the friend, the family, the person that you’ve come to know as just Clara. The wavering fear in her voice which makes her so human is evident, and it’s those times where she shows her emotions do you realise why you’re fighting for her– is because you’re fighting with her. Clara has always seen herself as equal to everyone around her, no less afraid but doing what she can to give the people she loves a better Yara.

“I am not fearless…I am scared as hell. But I promise you one thing, I will be feared.”

You watch beside Juan as everyone takes their turn, throwing in their own flare with an emphatic ‘¡Viva Libertad!’, all of the people you consider family united under Clara’s rally.

Eventually everyone disperses to gear up and restock their ammunition for the last time before heading home, leaving behind you, Juan and Dani who despite being the newest recruit has done more than her fair share for Libertad.

“Does she know what she’s doing?” Dani sounds hesitant, and rightly so with how new she is to the crew but you catch the glint in her eyes, the admiration and lovestruck awe she has for Clara.

“Who cares Dani,” Juan makes a point of flicking his cigar into the blue flames of the flare, “She knows what we need.”

You holster your weapon, before gesturing to Dani to follow you towards one of the exits. “Common you’re with me– we’re hitting 'em from the ground.” Your attention falls to Juan, giving a salute as you walk backwards and over to some of the horses.

Juan waves back at you, walking back up the hill to where the helicopter is parked but not before he bids you farewell.

“See you from the skies, cariño!”

–

Sitting at the lighthouse waiting for orders is your least favourite moment of all your missions with Libertad. During the heat of the moment between fighting for life and death, it’s easy to lose your thoughts and focus on the tasks at hand– whether that’s liberating outposts, stealing intel or securing resources.

But the anticipation kills you.

The silence of waiting for the radio static has you feeling jittery, your fingers running over the panels of your armour and the magazines of your weapons, double checking every little detail. Maybe that’s your nervous tick but it doesn’t help calm you, not as your feet sway over the edge of the lookout with your arms and legs wrapped securely around the railings.

Having the company of Dani certainly helps.

“So how long have you and Juan been together?”

Okay scratch that, if Dani’s company is going to have you talk about feelings not even you understand fully then you’re ready to redact that statement. You choke on nothing for a moment, coughing and spluttering awkwardly as heat swells in your face. It's only a small blessing that the cover of darkness makes it harder to notice.

“Woah slow down Rojas– it’s not like that… it’s complicated.” Your hand rubs at the back of your neck, trying to find something to do other than reload your handgun for the millionth time.

“Oh, sorry– I assumed cause I saw you hug earlier when you both got back,” Now it's her turn to feel a little awkward over the situation, “Guess I shouldn’t have assumed anything”

Your soft chuckle lets her know you’re certainly not mad about the situation, her face watching yours closely as your eyes wander up to the sky, watching as the night breaks with the flash of the lighthouse.

“Don’t stress about assuming anything– you’re right to extend but…” Your voice dies in your throat.

“It’s complicated.” Dani finishes for you.

“Yeah,” You’ve never really stopped to think about the feelings that go on between the two of you. All you know is you’re not very good at talking about it unless one of you is insanely drunk, that being Juan, or the other gets injured, that being you.

It doesn’t help that every time you do try to talk about it, you’re either stranded on an island or the FND are chasing your ass. But you’ve learnt Yara isn’t the most ideal place for romance, all things considered.

When the radio crackles to life, both of you perk up as Clara does a check in with everyone over the comms. Thank the Oluwas for that blessing.

“You two in position at the lighthouse for our assault element?”

“Sí Jefa, our positions are good– we’ll wingsuit over in no time.”

“Muy bien,” Clara does her rounds, checking in with Julio, Benito and Raiza before calling on the infamous spymaster, “Juan, you copy?”

“Buckle up guerrilla’s! Air Juan is in the skies and my bullets are hungry.” At the sound of Juan’s ridiculous overexcitement, you can’t help but chuckle fondly. Luckily, the radio is off.

Dani looks at you with a smirk, like she’s got you all figured out. “Complicated huh? Sounds pretty clear to me what kind of a crush you’ve got going on.”

You roll your eyes lightheartedly, standing up on the lighthouse as you prepare to wingsuit your way over.

“Yeah, yeah– I'll own up to mine when you own up to your little crush on Clara,” Your smile only grows as Dani looks absolutely flustered in that moment, “now let's get these ships out of the way, yeah? I’ll take the farthest one but signal if you need back up.”

“Got it.”

–

Wingsuiting down is the easy part, but swimming with a supremo on your back and a mountain of gear has a whole mountain of challenges. You have to haul your body up the side of the ship's hull, using much needed strength to climb the ladder thanks to the weight of the water dragging you down.

“Ugh, they never tell you how heavy this shit feels.” Reaching the top of the ladder, your arms flap about to shake off excess water before quickly ducking for cover as a soldado roams the platform above you.

With your silencer attached, you crawl through the lower decks on your stomach, keeping yourself low to the ground as you take out unsuspecting soldados. Slowly, you make your way to the lookout, disarming an alarm along the way.

You’re quick to take out a special forces sniper, taking his place as you settle on the roof of the ship and look through the scope of your own rifle. Holding your breath to steady your aim, you swiftly take out a RPG who collapses on the floor with the thud.

The next few seconds are a blur after that.

Sirens ring throughout both ships and the soldados begin to swarm in large numbers. The fucking security camera. In an effort to take out as many soldiers as you could, you had completely missed the way the security camera scanned along the upper deck– only realising too late that the body had signalled the alarm almost immediately.

A soldado opens fire onto the roof you’re stationed on, and you quickly roll over, jumping down and out of sight in the opposite direction. As you land, a low groan leaves you as your knees take the brunt of the landing that’s going to bruise for days no doubt.

Gunfire is heard from all over as backup reserves start emerging from the lower decks. You’re unable to tell which direction they’re coming from as the slurry of heavy boots, yelling and bullets reverbs off the ship's hull– completely disorienting you.

It certainly doesn't help that Dani, Clara and Juan are all simultaneously ranting in your ear.

“Fuck–fuck–fuck!”

“Dani? What the hell is going on down there?”

“Cariño? Are you alive– coño!”

Both ships are in chaos as Dani tries to deal with her own onslaught of soldados. But you keep a level head, trying to methodically work through each soldado as you have near misses with bullets, grenades and an array of other explosives with your head low and weapon raised high.

You take the opportunity of an engineer reloading his weapon to make a run for the mast of the boat, hoping the high ground will give you the advantage again. The better view means you can hit your headshots better and not have to rely on armour piercing ammo to break bullet proof vests which you’re very close to running out of.

Juan’s helicopter comes flying over the horizon and into view, swivelling around in a flurry of arson as he takes out a bunch of heavily armed special forces from behind you. I’d totally missed those.

With the added back up, Juan and Raiza helped you as Julio and Benito stepped up for Dani– the odds were turned in your favour and it was easy to take out the remaining soldados from there. Just a few more hours and you’ll be home.

That was all the push you needed to finish off the last of stragglers, a deep feeling of relief washing over you as gunfire ceased and only big clouds of black smoke remained from both ships.

Everyone regrouped on your ship, giving each other congratulations and support as you waited for Clara to come and join you all. Dani had come to join you by your side, both of you waving and cheering as the boss’ boat got closer.

“I’d say that wasn’t half bad– we’re all alive aren’t we?” Your overly optimistic voice chimes in.

Both you and Dani pat each other on the back, a feeling of friendship like you might be fighting beside her as allies for a long time to come.

Clara’s boat pulls up beside Antón’s, the size of it completely swallowed up by the sheer might of the naval ships. You watch from the top of the ladder as Dani slides down and climbs in. Clara gives you a knowing nod, but the newest recruit spins around in confusion after you don’t follow her down.

“You’re not coming with us?” Her voice sounds puzzled, like she might have misread your position in Libertad’s ranks but it all seems to click when a rope drops down beside you.

“I’m hitching a ride with this one,” your arm loops around the rope, getting a good grip to be able to grapple up to the helicopter waiting for you, “see you two back at camp!”

Giving your biggest wave you can muster with one arm, grappling over shark infested water from a helicopter as all the boats align north and everyone begins to head in the direction of home. And finally, you’re able to plop down into the chopper's seat.

Stealing his sunglasses from his breast pocket, you throw your head back and recline into the chair with your arms stretched out behind you.

“Ready to get the fuck out of here?”

“You know it, old man– don’t gotta ask me twice.”

–

Getting two feet down on the helipad of Clara’s island feels like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, and it only grows as you finally get to walk into Juan’s office and dump your bags down onto the metal benches. The adrenaline of attacking the barricade has worn off, an exhaustion setting in that makes you want to curl up and sleep like the dead for a week.

“Home sweet home.”

But that can’t happen with the layer of armour on, nor can it happen with the supremo hanging on your shoulders. Neither of you mention how you steal one of Juan’s shirts to change into, or how half of your things practically belong in his bunker alongside his now.

When you return to the main area, now thoroughly comfortable, you find Juan already hunched over the workbench– a sight which currently offends you at this moment.

“Oh no–no–no. Sleep first, resolver second.” Your hands drag him away from the tool-station with an arm looped around his side. Juan doesn’t argue with you as you pull him up to his ‘loft’ bedroom. If you can call scaffolding and worn down couches a bedroom. Not that you’ve minded, in fact you’ve grown rather fond of his strange living quarters.

You hit the couch with a soft thud, fluffing one of the pillows against the armrest to get comfortable as Juan grabs a light blanket and crawls in beside you. His arms wrap around you and soon your head is tucked onto his chest as you finally relax properly.

Both of you zone out to the sounds of your breathing, your eyes closing as you aimlessly trace the lines of his tattoos along his chest and collarbones. Eventually, Juan’s hand joins yours atop of his chest, looping your fingers together as you both drift off to a cosy, comfortable sleep.

#juan cortez #juan cortez x reader #gn!reader #far cry 6 #fc6 #far cry #fc6 writing #fc6 headcannons #dani x clara #dani rojas #clara garcia #anton castillo #benito fc6 #Benito Ménguez #julio velez

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alessiathepirate · 8 months ago

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Far Cry 6

EL CAZADOR Y LA PRESA: Vaas Montenegro x fem!reader

Summary: La Raja Bar - the place where two old acquaintances finally meet again...

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 :)

I can't believe I finally finished this piece, I've been working on it for such a long time. I think the Michael Mando brainrot helped a lot.

I hope you'll enjoy this <3

Warnings: swearing, my Spanish, referenced and mentioned violence, heavily suggestive themes, also mentioned and referenced plot of Far Cry 3 and 5

•••

Juan knew many people and he for sure knew his way around them.

He knew when and how to strike a great business deal, and how to get out on top with more intel and money than the other had initially offered.

But more often than not, when he got tired in the workshop, he just went out to have a drink or two - or more, it was almost always more - with an old friend. And he had many old friends. Some even more dangerous than the potentional business partners; many were ex-guerrillas, ex-CIA, ex-KGB, ex-terrorists... The list was endless.

She liked to join him sometimes; sitting down to try and make the stupid businessman talk or sitting down with a beer to listen to Juan and his old pal fool around.

That's what she planned on doing once again, after finishing a run for the man to steal some uranium from the last few remaining anti-aircraft sites. After taking the iron chest back to Zamok Archipiélago, she went straight up north, to La Raja Bar - where she knew she'll find the one and only Juan Cortez.

Arriving there though... a surprise was waiting for her there. A big fucking surprise. Juan wasn't the one sitting at the bar, waiting for her, already drunk. In fact, Juan wasn't anywhere in sight. Instead, she found an old friend there, hunched over with his elbows on the table.

She could still recognize him even after all those fucking years, even if the time had taken its toll on both of them.

And just by knowing who he was, she was sure he was the one Juan had met up with before leaving without telling her not to come.

And thank God he didn't tell her that.

"Holy shit!" she cursed as her lips turned upwards into a smile. "What's the fucking chance?"

The man turned around slowly - much slower than he did in the past -, but the very dangerous kind of calmness was still seen in the way his muscles moved. The look on his face upon realizing who was speaking to him, wasn't really surprised - she had never seen him being surprised at anything -, although it was close to it. She was pretty sure he had been going on with life like she had done, thinking they'd never see each other again. To be completely honest, for a time she believed he died - until she realized nothing could kill him, only himself.

"Long time no see, Jefe."

Vaas grinned and she took a seat right next to him, asking the bartender for two more beers. The old lady just cursed under her breath, but in the end, gave her what she asked for.

She gave one beer to Vaas and then took a sip from the other one.

"Fucking Hell, chica!" he took the bottle from her and gave her one of his signature little chuckles. "I thought the jungle ate you up alive."

"The jungle?" she questioned. "Like it had a fucking chance."

"It had one in the beginning."

They smiled at the other in a very twisted and scary way. The bartender chose to stay far away from them, and decided to mess with the old radio in the corner.

She liked knowing that nothing changed.

It all felt the same; the drinking, the talking, even the fucking looks... Although they had more scars - more than the ones they had given each other back then -, more grey hairs and a more serious drinking problem, it was as if they were back in some part of the Rook Islands, in a shitty bar.

She leand in more, her lips turning into an even wider smile, until it was a grin, and said: "It doesn't have one anymore, Jefe."

She carefully watched as his expression went through different phases. She could see the almost-smile as his lips twitched when she said that last word.

Jefe.

It was easy for her to tame him just by saying that. For some reason he liked to hear that word from her. Only her. She remembered all the times she had been tackled to the ground, rough fingers digging into her skin. It has always been easy to get what she wanted.

"I can fucking see that, chica."

His gaze was upon her knuckles, which were bruised. Small cuts littered her hands.

"Good for you." she said as she took another sip. "Nowadays not many people get to keep their eyes to look at me with."

Vaas chuckled.

"You still got your claws, tigre." his smile turned into a smirk. "No one broke them before, huh?"

"No one other than you." she teased. "Believe me, no one could do it better than you."

"Careful now, chica." his voice was just like hers, it had something to it - some teasing and some danger, just the things she liked. "You still think you can just run that mouth of yours without any consequences, ey?"

"I know I can't." her tone became low. "That's why it's fun."

Silence followed. The unsettling kind.

And then after a smirk, Vaas laughed.

And she felt as if she was on the Rook Islands again, being intentionally teased and angered, Vaas just chuckling at her reactions. But he had loved it more when she escaped. He loved her fight, he loved her nails more - enjoying when they broke his skin, leaving red lines behind. And in return, she got some thin cuts as well, mostly around her collarbone, making it impossible to hide them.

As they sat there, drinking and laughing, she wanted nothing more than to jump on him and leave marks behind again. And she was sure he wanted to do the same.

"So, what are you up to in Yara, chica?" he asked, his voice turning serious as much as it could. "Causing trouble again?"

"Sí, Jefe. Juan seemed to enjoy it so I decided to join in on the fun. Besides," she pulled down the neckline of her shirt so he could see the scar on her chest. "I got tired of Montana pretty quickly."

"Nice tattoo. You got more?"

"Only this one." she let go of her shirt. "You gave me better ones anyway."

"That I did chica."

She felt a chill run through her as he looked at her.

The want, or rather need was undeniable. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. He needed her as much as she needed him.

They've been far away from sanity for a long time, and their shared insanity met them each and every time they chased the other again and again and again... She was never really sane, especially with Vaas around. He made her the person she has become. He made her want him more than she wanted anyone else.

She still remembered the time Vaas gave her the tattoo she knew he was referring too. They went out to hunt - in reality he just wanted to see her face when she hit a living, moving animal; he wanted her to know she was the one who killed it. And she shot - perfectly. She only had to give the doe one more bullet to put it down and as soon as the animal was dead, her chest started to raise and fall quickly. Yet she didn't have time to think, because one of his arms was around her waist, pulling her close. His face was burried in the crook of her neck as he laughed.

"Ahora ya no eres presa, chica." he had said. "Eres la cazadora." and his teeth broke the skin on her neck.

She had asked what it meant, not quite understanding Spanish back then.

Vaas chuckled, but translated it.

"You just became the hunter, chica. You are not prey anymore." his nose touched her ear and her breathing hitched. "Mi pequeña cazadora."

Mi. She knew that meant 'my'. And from the way he acted she knew he liked that idea. He liked it a lot.

And then his fingers grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulled it up and his knife cut into her skin. Droplets of blood ran down her hip, making her jeans red. She whimpered and grabbed onto his arm, trying to get it away, but he wouldn't move.

The letter V he had carved into her that day could still be seen just above her hip. She thought about touching it - like she always did when she was thinking about him -, but held herself back.

He didn't need to know how much she enjoyed the thought of that scar.

She finished her beer. He did too. She thought about asking for another, but since the bartender wasn't anywhere in sight, she decided against it.

She didn't know what to say.

She wanted him and she was sure he felt the same, but after all those years they both became tame. It was actually surprising to not hear him shout orders.

In the end she reached into her pocket to pay for the drinks, but just as she was about to throw the money on the counter, Vaas grabbed her wrist. Out of reflex her other hand was immediatelly on the knife which was attached to the back of her belt. Vaas just grinned.

'Good reflexes, chica.' she could hear his voice in her head.

She raised one of her eyebrows.

"No need for that, cazadora." uncomfortable tingles ran through her at the nickname and at the touch. "The puta won't ask for money. I made sure of that."

She looked at him with excitement.

Her hand let go of her knife and she concentrated on the feeling of him holding onto her wrist, almost crushing the bones.

Cazadora. He remembered, didn't he? Of course he did. He remembers fucking everything. Especially the things he had done in the past.

She knew he made her. In the jungle, in the heat. Every single time she fought him and he cut her, he made sure she'll become something else. Something... loco.

And every time she let him tackle her, cut her, kiss her and bite her, she let him form her into the insane bitch she has become.

Mi pequeña cazadora. She remembered that day in the jungle when they were hunting the doe. She remembered the dull pain when he drew the V into her skin. She remembered his breath on her skin and his grin when she leaned into him, accepting her own insanity next to his.

She felt the need grow in the pit of her stomach as Vaas held onto her.

Perhaps they weren't too old to hunt again.

"You make me fucking crazy Jefe." she said as she dropped the money, letting it fall, the coins rolling far away.

And soon they were on each other. Hands roaming free, teeth biting lips. His thumb found the letter V above her hip and she whined.

She let herself be tackled, she let him break the skin with his teeth.

No matter how different she has become, next to Vaas she didn't want to be a hunter.

Not when it was too enjoyable to be the prey.

#vaas montenegro x reader #vaas montenegro x fem!reader #alessiathepirate #far cry 6 #far cry 3 #far cry x reader

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years ago

Text

[REQUESTS CLOSED]

rules for requesting: HERE

| gender neutral reader unless stated | NSFW marked with * |

characters included [alphabetical order] : BEMBÉ, CAMILA, CARLOS, CLARA, DANI, EL TIGRE, JONRÓN, JUAN, LOLA, MARÍA, PAOLO, PAZ, PHILLY, TALÍA, YELENA, YUMI & ZENIA

HOW THEY CUDDLE - Camila, Dani & Juan

LEAVING THE FND FOR YOUR S/O - Bembé, Camila, Dani, Juan & Philly

WHAT THEY ARE LIKE IN BED * - Dani, Clara, Juan, Paz & Philly

INJURED S/O - Bembé, Camila, Clara, Dani, Juan, Paz, Philly & Yelena

HOW YOU SPEND TIME OFF TOGETHER - Camila, Clara, Dani, Juan, Paz & Philly

S/O TAKING CARE OF YOU AFTER BEING TORTURED BY FND - Bembé, Camila, Clara, Juan & Philly

COMFORTING YOU - Bembé & Philly

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS - INCOMPLETE

| PART ONE |

KISSING THEIR S/O’S HAND - Bembé, Camila, Clara, Dani & Juan

COMFORT WITH A COLD/FLU - Bembé Camila, Clara, Dani, Juan & María

FLIRTING WITH AN OBLIVIOUS READER - Clara, Dani & Juan

ANGST SERIES - COMPLETE

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

FOUND FAMILY - EL TIGRE & READER [PLATONIC HC’S]

JOINING THE GUERRILLAS - Bembé, Camila, Clara, Dani & Juan

MODERN AU - Bembé, Camila, Clara, Juan, Yelena & Zenia

FLUFF + POLY HC’S - Talía x Reader X Paolo

CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY - Camila, Clara, Dani, Juan & Philly

CATCHING FEELINGS - Clara, Dani & Juan

KISS HC’S - Bembé, Camila, Clara, Carlos, Dani, Juan & Philly

DATE HC’S - Camila, Clara, Carlos, Dani, Jonrón & Juan

GENERAL FLUFF HC’S - INCOMPLETE

| PART ONE |

PHILLY BARZAGA

fluff HC’s

JUAN CORTEZ

fluff HC’s

hand scribbled notes

my juan of a kind - incomplete

Photo ref - Part Three

BEMBÉ ALVAREZ

fluff & NSFW HC’s * - switch!bembé

PAOLO DE LA VEGA

fluff HC’s - trans!masc reader

MERCEDES ‘JONRÓN’ MARTIN

fluff HC’s - fem!reader

RARZAGA [M!DANI X PHILLY]

fluff HC’s

| Part One | Part Two |

JUAN CORTEZ X WILLIS HUNTLEY

old friends and even older trinkets *

OC RAMBLE INTRODUCTION : JULIA, MANNY & OLUWA

#fc6 #far cry 6 #fc6 headcannons #fc6 writing #masterlist #camila montero #bembe alvarez #clara garcia #dani rojas #juan cortez #paz duarte #philly barzaga #yelena morales #philly x dani

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its-deputy-caleb · 2 years ago

Text

My Juan of a Kind – Part One

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

pairing: Juan Cortez x reader (minor background clara x fem!dani)

summary: juan being juan decides to run to the bar in armonía after libertad attacks isla santuario and there’s only one person who could really convince him to return which is of course his favourite guerrilla, you <3

note: lol i hate summaries what is this. howdyy ya’ll i’ve had the WOSRT week imaginable so i wrote this very self indulgent fic for myself – this was supposed to be a small oneshort based on the first mission but it’s now gonna be a three chapter slow burn over multiple sections of the game and no i have not edited it cause im tired n its late

for now pls enjoy <3

description: gender neutral reader | fluff | 3241 words

–

It’s a relatively peaceful afternoon in Clara García’s makeshift camp along the mountains of Isla Santuario. The breeze that flows through the planks of the walls cools you and contrasts perfectly with the warm streaks of sun along your backside. You’re bent over an array of maps, blueprints and plans at Clara’s table as you try to drown out the hustle of camp members and sounds of soft chatter.

“Now that we have Benito back on our side, there’s the manpower to attack the blockade and get ourselves back to your command center, Jefa.”

Clara maneuvers a wilted old turista map to place as the centerpiece of her table. She pauses for a moment, taking in and analyzing her surroundings before nodding along with your assessment.

“We’ll need air support, and we can’t do that without taking out that anti-aircraft site. Do you think Juan will be able to handle it without backup? Where is he by the way– I haven’t seen him back since we first attacked the island.”

With a defeated sigh, you lean your weight against the table and cross your arms over your chest. Juan had never looked more embarrassed after your failed mission, a look which broke your heart more than you’d like to admit. You knew he had an ego, but underneath that was a long history of regrets and life choices he’d prefer to bury at the bottom of Yaran cocktails and many many bottles of rum.

The old guerrilla and spy-master was a dear friend of yours, the two of you growing close in the years he returned to mentor Clara and work with Libertad. Of course, your friendship grew into deeper unspoken feelings but you’ve parked those thoughts at the mention of Juan’s disappearance from camp.

“Word of mouth says he’s down in Armonía– Julio mentioned seeing him by the bar before he left to hit the tobacco fields.”

Clara mimics you with her own defeated sigh as she flicks through her maps, as if magically all the answers will pop up.

No one was going to lie…Libertad was doing it tough right now. Everyone is isolated and exhausted, our numbers are few and scattered across the Archipelago, with more than the fair share of injuries going around– yourself included, with a nasty bullet wound to the shoulder and your hand squeezes gently over the bandages to try and ease the dull pain that lingers even days after the attack on the Viviro plantation.

Clara is doing her best to keep everyone together, but the added stress of Juan disappearing seems to not help anyone at the moment.

That…and you miss him.

Camp seems just that much more somber without his cynical humor and blunt innuendos.

“Who the hell is Juan?”

Both you and Clara look up to see Libertad’s newest recruit Dani Rojas returning from her successful raid on the Plantation. She drops her weapon onto the table, arms extending in a stretch like she’s just gone for a light run and totally didn’t single handedly liberate the poisoned tobacco plant that knocked down the entirety of Libertad and left you all licking your wounds miserably.

Clara moves to sit down in her chair, shoulders relaxing slightly as she helps Dani get acquainted with the members of Libertad.

“We attacked this Archipelago with a man named Juan Cortez– he helped me build Libertad from the dirt. Juan’s a spymaster from the pre-Castillo days, the man’s a legend and can build explosives from a goddamn ice cube tray and some fasteners.

He’s pulled off ops for Espinosa, the KGB, then flipped to the CIA and MOSSAD for fun. Juan is my mentor…”

“He’s also unstable and an alcoholic,” your voice chimes in as you and Clara share a knowing look.

You listen to their conversation as you head over to where your gear is placed, beginning to suit up and reload all of your weapons. Dani looks a little startled, if not shocked at Clara’s introduction but you’ve learnt over the years that Juan’s track record is known to raise a few eyebrows.

“Err right, he sounds like a charmer. Where is he now?”

Your hands fasten the clips of your bullet proof vest, making sure nothing is out of place as you prepare for the onslaught of soldados that will no doubt be swarming the town of Armonía. How the hell Juan hasn’t gone and gotten himself killed yet is beyond you.

“When shit went south at the plantation, he was so embarrassed he walked right out of my camp,” Clara’s voice hardens with a seriousness which only shows when members of the Libertad family are in danger.

“Dani, Castillo’s soldados would love nothing more than to capture a ‘double-agent’ like Cortez. We need him back with Libertad, there’s no way we can make it off the island without his skills… I know you just returned from your outing with Juilo, but please we need him back.”

As the last of your gear is strapped into place, your hand settles on Clara’s shoulder in a sign of friendship and your dedication to Libertad’s leader.

“I’ll go get him, Jefa– you know what he can be like. Let Rojas relax, and besides maybe it’ll be good for you two to do some catching up and get to know each other.” You finish your sentence with a wink, one only Clara can see and you can’t help but beam when she looks a little flustered. You knew there was something unspoken between the two of them, the tension that has never really left since the first night Dani waltzed into camp, not with the lingering gazes the two of them shared ever since.

And what’s a little match-making between revolutions anyway right?

–

The dirt path down to the village is littered with a mix of aged wooden platforms and worn-in bridges, all of which reverb the sound of your boots. Your hands rest idly on your rifle, fingers fidgeting as restlessness settles and your mind wanders on how to get Juan to come back to camp. One can only hope he trusts you enough to listen and be swayed by your opinion.

Over the years you’ve known the spymaster, Juan has slowly become one of your most trusted friends, if not the most.

There’s an unspoken trust between the two of you, one you know he reciprocates as you fight the revolution. Not only do you know about how his escapade with the CIA hadn’t officially ended– in fact he still regularly asks you to accompany him on his dead drops to sell them Viviro– but you’re also aware of his precious shipments of ‘candies’ from Big Papi and his occasional shady side deal with Mckay.

You know things about the infamous Juan Cortez that not even Clara knows.

Of course, you didn’t earn that trust overnight and it took many late nights tinkering away in his workshop for him to slowly drop that nonchalant exterior. You know, without Juan having to say it himself that he enjoys your company, that underneath his reckless behavior is a man who is lonely and drinks to hide his feelings.

Between all the missions you’ve gone on together, there have been numerous occasions where you’ve found him looking like a mess, drunk off his ass and a total emotional wreck. Those moments only brought you closer as you escorted him back to his bunker with his arm thrown around your shoulders and a firm hand on his waist, practically dragging him home.

Of course, he’d always insisted that you stay.

You smile softly at the memories of wrapping him in blankets, holding him till he fell asleep and staying the night to make him breakfast as you teased him for his hangover. Neither of you spoke about it but it was obvious how much you loved the closeness and the intimacy of cuddling, of snuggling after a stressful day in the revolution. It was certainly welcomed after the chaos of the FND crackdown on Yara. And not that Juan would admit it, but underneath all the hardened guerrilla-talk, the old man is a huge softie.

It became something of a habit for the two of you to curl up on his couch after a day building supremos or going out to steal FND resources. It made the most logical sense if you’d spent the entire day there… that and the fact most of your possessions had moved in alongside his over time.

Eventually, Juan didn’t need the excuse of a bad day to curl up beside you. Instead, he’d rest his head on your shoulder, both of you aimlessly watching Yara’s only television channel until you heard snoring in your ear– his need for comfort and touch far outweighing any chance of embarrassment or second guessing.

It was easy then, to develop feelings for the spymaster– feelings you knew he returned when you may or may not have overheard him rambling to Guapo one night. The two of you never outwardly spoke about any feelings, instead choosing to enjoy the frequent cuddle routine without the risk of complicated things.

Who knows… maybe it's worth telling him you feel the same, that you want nothing more than to hold his hand, kiss him and curl up with your head on his chest each night.

Those thoughts linger with you until they are disrupted by a disgruntled soldado telling you to keep your weapons holstered as you enter the town of Armonía via the main road.

“Oye– just passin’ through pendejo, I’m not here to cause trouble.”

The soldado grumbles under his breath but he lets you pass through after you throw 20 pesos his way. It’ll no doubt be spent on a drink at the end of his shift but you don’t stop to think about it as you wander through the village streets towards the bar, a smile hitting your lips at the sight of a green shirt hunched over the plywood curb of the bar’s countertop.

You can vaguely hear him rambling but it’s not until you walk up the steps and sit in the barstool next to him do you realize he’s complaining about Yara’s worst cantina in his classic Juan Cortez style.

“Oye Guapo, today we drink in the worst fucking Cantina in Yara...”

“Aw common now, it can’t be worse than the old Raksi Brewery in Kyrat.” Your voice is filled with gentle teasing, acting as a way of announcing your presence without seeming like you’re here to lecture anyone. You watch as the guerrilla beside you perks up, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as if he didn’t expect you’d come to find him eventually.

“What are you doing here?” There’s no anger in Juan’s words, only confusion as he rolls his cigar between his fingers in a nervous tick of his.

“Did you really think I was going to leave you here on your own? And no, before you answer– Guapo does not count as your plus one. Lo siento, chiquito.” Your attention momentarily drops down to the croc lying by Juan’s feet, giving him an apologetic look before your posture straightens and wait for a reply.

“Rule number one; a good guerrilla is a hidden guerrilla.” Juan doesn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to gesture at the unimpressed bartender to refill his glass and you’re quick to signal for your own.

“You’re forgetting the more important rule mi viejo. A good guerrilla always brings a friend along.” Your hand reaches out to rest along his arm, gently squeezing his bicep as your voice softens to something more warm and comforting.

“Juan, look at me… you don’t need to exile yourself because of one failed mission. Things go wrong all the time, no one could have prepared for the way the soldados swarmed us or how quickly Castillo’s special forces caught our trail. There’s always a risk to these sorts of ops, all we can do is try again.”

His back stiffens, looking you square in the eyes with guilt riddled on his face. “But you were nearly killed.”

Ah. So that’s what this is about.

During your attempt to escape the swarm of FND soldiers, you’d made the reckless decision to flee the roof via the zipline without any cover. A sniper had narrowly missed your head, instead dealing a nasty flesh wound into your left shoulder right as Clara's voice over comms ordered everyone to retreat and head for high ground. You remember how worried Juan had been when he saw you limp and struggle back to the group, and you could only imagine the swarm of intrusive thoughts he must be feeling.

“Hey now, that wasn’t your fault. I’m alive and that’s all that matters yeah? Every guerrilla has their fair share of battle scars anyway!” Your leg bumps against Juan’s in an attempt to keep it lighthearted which surprisingly does draw a soft smile from him, if only just a small twitch of his lip. It’s the small victories.

Even Guapo chimes in with his own grumble, or the closest thing a Yaran crocodile could get to laughing. The sound makes both of you smile and your chest warms at the way his amigo makes him happy.

Of course that feeling doesn’t last when you hear the condescending and annoyed remarks of the bartender. “This isn’t a fucking zoo abuelo.”

You have every intention of mouthing that rude hijo-de-puta off, ready to snap any second when all three of you are startled by Guapo making a bee-line for an approaching soldado. Guapo does his signature death roll right as his teeth lock into place, a large splatter of blood hitting the surrounding area.

Confused as to what is happening, you turn to see a very pissed off looking Juan.

“You fucking rat.”

Spitting, the bartender makes a curt gesture to you with a nod of his head. “They’re worth more than your bounty anyway.”

You’re caught off guard by the sudden splurry of movements before you. Juan is quick to smack the weapon out of the bartender’s hand, moving it out of your direction before raising his own to right between the man’s brow line.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the trigger is pulled and the sound of a single gunshot rings throughout the bar. Beside you, Juan throws back the last of his whiskey as he hisses and swears under his breath.

“The comemierda didn’t even have the decency to give me ice,” Juan holsters his weapon before turning to you, holding a hand out for you to take. “You alright?”

By now, the gunshot has attracted a group of soldados just as Guapo returns carrying a boot with a foot still attacked and a look of pure joy– like a puppy who’s just brought back the biggest stick from the park.

Your hand comes to squeeze Juan’s own, fingers locking together as you lean into him slightly.

“I’m quite alright,” your eyes momentarily leave Juan’s to inspect the mess of blood that remains. “Guess someone was a little too slow for an old abuelo like you hmm?”

Juan’s laughter can be heard as you mimic the grouchy bartender, the two of you making your way over to the bar’s entrance but not before he picks up his signature sniper. Both of you give a knowing smirk to the other, watching as a crowd of soldados walk towards the sound of the gunshot.

You re-adjust your rifle, making sure your weakened left shoulder is well protected with bulletproof padding and bandages before holding out a carton of ammo for him to take.

“What do you say mi viejo… one for the road?”

Juan’s eyes light up like the guerrilla spy-master he is– looking like a true child who’s gotten a Christmas present early and can cause havoc in their element, “siempre cariño, vamanos!”

–

By the time the two of you are ducking for cover, throwing molotovs at cars and taking aim, Guapo is well and truly on his fourth soldado. Now you know where he gets it from.

The side of a boat shed goes up in flames as the fire of a burning FND jeep spreads over the ground. Some soldados are unlucky enough to find their uniforms alight whilst others make headfast for you.

Juan covers for you, using his added ground up by the bar to snipe some of the more heavily armed forces whilst you chew through the onslaught of officers.

It continues on like that for a while, the two of you along with Guapo watching each other's backs– taking out soldados before reloading and starting up again. That is until a vanguard climbs onto the mounted weapon atop one of the remaining cars.

You only have half a second to duck for cover, dropping down to crawl behind a wooden crate which just barely manages to stop the bullets. Juan looks just as grated as you do, a headache already forming from the repeated ringing of the magazine clanking with the release of the weapon. Your eyes meet, both of you waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Juan gives you a teasing wink and a signature smirk before the ringing comes to an abrupt halt as it overheats and jams.

Together, you both emerge from your cover to take out the soldado and a string of cheers are heard as you’re triumphant.

It’s easy then, to deal with the stragglers of pistoleros and assaulters who quickly realize it isn’t worth the risk and retreat back into the smaller alleyways of Armonía. With the quietness that settles over the town, both Juan and Guapo emerge on either side of you with a waiting look in their eyes.

Of course, after many pats to the adorable cocodrilo your attention falls to Juan. Your eyes soften as you smile gently and holster your weapons so you can hold a hand out for him to take.

“Come back to camp, por favor mi viejo.” The gentle pleading in your voice matches the look on your face, hoping the nickname you’ve reserved only for Juan would help convince him to return with you.

Anxiety pools in your stomach, patiently waiting for him to say something but it doesn’t last long as your fingers link with his and your free hand comes to hold his arm. Both of you are content to walk back up the main road of Armonía, your sides pressed against each other in an attempt to be closer and a very happy Guapo by your legs.

With light-hearted jokes and laughter bubbling in the air, you walk along town’s streets as Juan leads you down the long way home. The sun is close to setting by this point in the afternoon, leaving his face glowing and it brings a freshness to his eyes you haven’t seen since before you left for the island. It’s a good look for him.

You’re just about ready to enter the edges of Clara’s territory, leaving behind the main roads for the more secretive guerrilla paths when you spot the tell-tale signs of a supply drop from the swarm of soldados and yellow smoke bombs.

“Want to steal ourselves a supply drop or has my old man had enough for one day?” Your teasing smirk matches Juan’s own equally excited one, his hand squeezing yours in affirmation.

“With you cariño, I won’t ever get enough.”

#juan cortez #juan cortez x reader #gn!reader #far cry #fc6 #far cry 6 #fc6 writing #fc6 headcannons #dani x clara #BUT ITS MINOR AND ONLY AT THE START #dani rojas #clara garcia #anton castillo #guapie my beloved #guapo fc6 #guapo #i'ma re-edit this later besties its 1am #for now lemme simp

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