#fc6 flufftober

MASTERLIST

meet-cute — clara garcía

bickering — camila ‘espada’ montero

hand holding —paz ‘bicho’ duarte

cooking together — juan cortez

blushing — paolo de la vega

firsts — philly barzaga

stargazing —fem! dani rojas

confessions — bembé alvarez

morning routine — juan cortez

sneaking glances — yelena morales 

argument — clara garcía 

grocery shopping — juan cortez

dancing — juan cortez

little gifts — lola tafalla 

sharing a bed — mercedes ‘jonrón’ martin

family — fem! dani rojas

pet names — bembé alvarez 

hugs — clara garcía

matching outfits — male! dani rojas

date night — zenia zayas

secretive — maria marquessa

comfort — camila ‘espada’ montero

vacation — philly barzaga

washing dishes — juan cortez

flowers — clara garcía 

sick days — fem! dani rojas

kisses — camila ‘espada’ montero

flirting — bembé alvarez

adopting a pet — fem! dani rojas

insecurity — carlos montero

proposal — clara garcía

“Coño– today was a fucking mess.”

Dani’s breath comes out shaky as she relaxes into the ground, shoulders rolling and head resting on the vent of an apartment rooftop. Her armor is missing, left abandoned on the car’s backseat, to reveal a stream of bandages and gauzes from where you patched her up a few hours ago.

The two of you had spent the majority of the day trying to secure the FND special forces base with little success to say the least. You were spotted almost immediately, triggering the auto turret as you tried your best to duck for cover. Dani was busy with the two tanks and onslaught of FND whilst you did your best to hack the systems for intel– and that was before the reinforcements were called.

The morning moved well into the late afternoon, and still, you were nowhere close to getting the premise secure. Alarms were ringing, radios backfiring and tanks exploding all whilst you two dealt with the FND running your way.

It had been a disaster, but eventually you managed to bring down the last sniper and take your breather in hours. Letting your guard down had been relatively easy. Clara gave you the all clear to call it a night on a quick phone call before Dani was dragging you to get patched up.

You found yourselves perched on the FND apartments overlooking the military base, watching as trucks of Libertad moved in to start setting up blue banners, workbenches and even a small weapons station from one of Juan’s guys– gotta remind Dani to pick up more industrial circuits tomorrow. 

Parking your train of thought, Dani brings you back to reality as she shuffles over to rest her head against your shoulder. She wiggles for a moment, getting comfortable whilst making sure she doesn’t damage her already bruised body as she tucks her head under your chin and stares out at the night sky.

“I wonder if the view is any different all the way up in Castillo’s Torre Del León?” Dani’s voice sounds almost sleepy, contemplative as the day starts to catch up to her and she melts into you.

Your arms wrap loosely around her, your nose twisting as her hair tickles your face and you kiss the top of her head gently. “Mhmm… it’s all the same Yara, no? Just different angles.” 

“I can’t wait to kick him from his pedestal and really get to enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“Soon querida– then we can spend as much time together as we want, whether that’s up in a palace or on a little farm somewhere in El Este,” Your hands gently tilt her head up so she’s looking at you almost upside down. “I don’t care where we are as long as I'm with you.”

Dani breaks out into a soft smile as she turns her attention back to the valley of stars and planets before you both. Her hand extends out, the tips of her fingers tracing patterns between the little specks of light. Your own hand comes out to brush with hers and together your fingers move over the constellations. Both of you giggle at the imaginary pictures you draw, from wonky looking guitars to half a palm tree and even leopard if you look hard enough.

“Hey look here– this one looks like a dog tag.” Your voice is laced with humor as you guide Dani’s fingers over to the shape you’ve found.

“So like… a circle?”

“Hush– I’m trying to be creative.”

None of it matters that your constellation looks nothing like a dog tag, for it already has Dani laughing and snuggling into you closer. By now, you’re no longer actively looking at the stars, deciding your interlaced fingers are far more interesting than anything you could find out there. Her hand squeezes yours, of which you return it with your own reassuring squeeze. 

Working for Bembé has been a learning curve to say the least.

Originally, you had joined him under the notion of needing to pay off a debt to support your family with borrowed money. But that was a long time ago.

You were supposed to be there for a few weeks, doing menial tasks like picking up shipments, of which you certainly didn’t ask any questions about, and relaying messages between the Gulov twins and the Black Market King himself– all to pay off the small amount of debt.

It was not, in any way, supposed to be a full time job. 

What started out as working for Bembé, quickly grew into a business partnership and dare you say it, a friendship working with him. In all the years you’ve known him, Bembé has become one of the few people you’ve come to trust with your life as you spend almost every hour of the day alongside him.

Stepping out of your car, you head on over to the Church’s entry as you plan to drop off his diary with all the information on today’s shipments and finances. There’s not many people around, mainly a few guards who give you a nod of acknowledgement and a parisher who’s taken to wiping down the benches. The only gaze that lingers is one of Saint Mary from her pedestal besides the windows.

Bembé’s desk is neatly tucked away behind the altar, having converted one of the storage rooms as his place of residence until you can safely reclaim the twin’s territory down at the Villa Judía Hotel. 

You place the book down on his desk, taking a moment to throw away empty cans and tidy up the pages strewn across the wooden surface before wandering around the Church in search of him.

With little to no luck searching the rooftops and the backrooms where all the arts and goods are stored, you return to the main area for congregants as your eyes land on the confessionals. Ah, he must be in one of those moods today.

Bembé had only ever gone there after a long and stressful day. A way of letting people know he wanted to be on his own. It wasn’t until you’d really gotten close did he leave the seat across from him for you to join him.

And you did just that, making your announcement known with a soft knock against the door, your knuckles scraping as you climbed inside. The light is softened, leaving an orange stain of intricate shadows to illuminate his face which rests up against the divider. Bembé looks at you from under his lashes, his shoulders slouched and eye bags visible. He looks tired. But instead of a rough, harsh look you’d expected to see from his exhaustion, it only brings out a softness to his features.

“Rough day?”

“Eh maybe… maybe not,” Bembé’s voice is full of his typical nonchalance, a hint of sarcasm you’ve come to grow used to but that all bleeds away when he sits back and slouches into his chair. “The twins picked off two more shipments, and Paolo’s debt is picking up by the hour with no end in sight.”

You humm in contemplative thought, thinking over all the stress he’s had to deal with over the weeks. “Let me call Dani– heard she’s helping Máximas out. Who knows she might even help you settle things with the Gulovs.”

Bembé chuckles, but not in a malicious way. His head leans back to hit the wall with a soft thunk as he stares down at his shoes.

“Something else on your mind?”

“Just thinking about my father. How he went from guerrilla in ‘67 to putting on a crisp military uniform– just to be buried by guerrillas when the next revolución came along.” He looks at you then, with all the emotion that is the real Bembé and not the Black Market King of Yara.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? To not pick sides. Doesn’t matter what colour flag you hold– it’s all just business, no?” Hesitant, your eyes are trained to Bembé making sure you don’t overstep or say the wrong things. It’s rare for him to talk about his family, and even rarer to show his emotions so openly.

“My father died for nothing.” There’s a beat before he speaks again. “Guerrillas. Military. Business. What is the point of switching sides if you don’t have something to make it all worth it.”

Bembé looks at you, finally meeting your eyes and you can’t help but think there’s slight fear in his eyes– or embarrassment. It’s a look you’ve never seen before, certainly not from him.

“I love you, you know. And I want you to choose my side. I don’t want to do this anymore if I don’t have you here.”

With a deep sigh, you muster a gentle smile and hold your hand out comfortingly to rest on the divider between you two.

“Bembé, I could have left a long time ago. I’m choosing to be here– you have nothing to worry about.” Quickly, you climb out from your side of the confessional to join him. You seat yourself beside him, your body flushed to him in the tight space as you hold his face and kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.”

He sighs into you, feeling his arms wrap around your shoulders. There’s heat radiating from the both of you, with only his jewellery cooling your skin as he holds you impossibly closer. 

“Could you ever love someone like me? A sinner.” His voice is still so soft, but some of his charismatic charm has returned.

“Isn’t that my line? ‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned?’” 

“Ahem… you’re umm, reading the wrong one. Here–”

Clara’s eyes are drawn to you in an instant, the book in her hand forgotten as you offer a blank ominous grey book. She looks confused, but flips through the pages nonetheless. 

It’s a stark contrast to the history book she was originally reading, with its harsh bold print and propaganda cover art. All of it signed at the bottom by the ministry of culture. Leave it to the Castillo’s to rewrite Yara’s history and hide how they truly came to power.

Her eyes widen with wonder as the little grey book exceeds her expectations, fingers brushing over the images of viviro plantations, tobacco fields and experiments reports.

There were a few lucky university students who knew the right books to read and where to find sources for your projects. All of them tucked away in the quietest parts of the library, doomed to collect dust unless Castillo gets his hands on them.

You had spent many hours at underground gatherings sharing ideas, collecting hidden histories and learning to rebel against the might of the ‘True Yarans.’ None of that would be possible if your friend, Talía hadn’t shown you these very books just as you do for Clara now.

“It’s not much, these books are hard to come by these days– not after the military did a sweep of the university. But we’ve managed to salvage what we can,” Her eyes beam with curiosity and excitement at finally getting to learn more about Yara’s true history besides from the bullshit they’ve pulled from the museum of the false revolution. 

“Do these books still exist anymore? I thought Marquessa practically destroyed everything.” Clara looks at you in awe, a gentle smile emerging as you give her one of your own.

“She destroyed almost everything. Ever since Maximas Matanzas' show last month the military has been extra tough but we’ve managed so far.” 

“How do you even find these?”

“I’m a history major– got a nose for these things,” Your smile takes a nervos turn, almost in fear of any kind of rejection. “You should come and join us.. We could use a journalism major like you.”

There's a beat. A moment of anticipation that she might turn you down.

But that all dies when her face lights up and she looks ready to jump for joy. “Really?”

You and Clara have seen each other around campus for ages now, sharing glances and smiles as you pass in the hallway– you even shared a short class together for a few weeks but neither of you have ever had the courage to say something until now.

“Of course! Talía’s got another performance planned– she wants to use it to protest in Esperanza, right outside the Torre del León to really piss off Castillo.” The curiosity in her eyes makes you wonder if she’s ever been to a protest before and you remind yourself to ask later.

“Even if you don’t tag along for the big riots, we hang out all the time and search for all sorts of historical evidence. Talía uses a lot of it for her music inspiration but most of the time we just crack open some cervezas and poke fun at Marquessa and the Castillos.” 

Clara holds the book close to her chest, and it isn’t until then do you realise just how beautiful she is up close. Her green eyes look almost golden as the sun filters in between the books of the library shelves and the piercing on her nose sparkles.

“Do you think there’s a chance for real change? For Yarans to be free?” Her voice is bright and filled with optimism. “I think so, but we have to try, no? Maybe Yara is just waiting for the right leader to arrive. It could be you, it could be me or anyone… who knows.”

Clara flushes at the thought of her taking on an oppressive regime, but she quickly matches your energy with her own with her own confident stance.

“Let’s go do this protest and Yara’s outcasts will rise in the chaos. After that, who knows.” She mimics your own line, and the two of you walk out of the library together to go meet the rest of your friends.

Since that day, neither of you have looked back as you followed Clara as Libertad’s leader. Always remaining by her side as her best guerrilla, as you fight for a free Yara.

“Holy fuck this is lush.”

The double doors of Antón’s private kitchen, in his very private villa open to reveal an entire palace of stainless steel countertops and state-of-art appliances every Yaran dreams they could afford. 

Libertad had stormed the island after the announcement Clara had been taken. It had been an absolute mess from the beginning of sneaking onto the docks, all the way up until the death of your close friend and leader. Now there was nothing you could do but free Yara in her name.

Together, you and Juan took it upon yourselves to search through the mansion– looting notes and laughing at all the art deco sculptures around the place in an attempt to relax and forget about the day, if only for five minutes.

Now looking at the sight of the massive fridge stacked to the brim with fresh produce, the finest quality meats and even a half opened bottle of wine you don’t even want to know the price of– you think it’s time the two of you have a reward after the last couple of years living the dangerous life of a guerrilla.

Juan is already scavenging through the bar, whistling lowly at the selection of rum and whiskey available. He flicks on the stereo system, finding some Los Nemus album the FND have stashed away as you take it upon yourself to begin preparing some vegetables and the pork to make Lechon Asado. It’s always been a traditional homey meal, with many memories of Libertad’s members all sitting around a fire on the beach of the Archipelago as you ate roast pork and drank Yara Libres. 

You never thought you’d thank Castillo for anything, but the fancy cut of pork and some of the freshest citrus and herbs you’ve ever smelt make you feel blessed. Running the knife over the cutting board, you take your time in preparing all the ingredients needed to marinate the meat. 

Just as you’re about to add it all to a baking dish, a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, holding you close in a tight hug. It’s all a distraction though, as you lean into Juan’s embrace, he seizes the moment to snatch a slice of seville orange.

“Hey! Get your hands out of there unless you want nothing. You know I could happily eat this all on my own.”

Juan doesn’t get to throw a snarky remark back at you as his face crunches up from the sourness of the orange, clearly expecting it to be sweeter than it was.

“And that is what you get for being greedy.” Your words have no bite to them, not as you pour two glasses of wine. One for yourself, and the other for him if only so he can wash down the sourness from his mouth.

Having learnt his lesson, Juan helps you prepare some rice to go with your main dish and only mildly complaining that he can’t steal anymore food. Of course, there’s an entire villa full of delicious food but where’s the fun in snacking if he can’t poach it from you?

Juan waits as you place the baking dish in the oven, watching as you set up one of those timers chef’s get the luxury of using before taking your wrist and bringing you close. He kisses your hand and uses it as leverage to sway to the tunes drifting around the kitchen.  Your soft laugh is all that can be heard as he twirls you slowly, making sure to kiss you when you spin back around. 

Eventually, you both stop worrying about the movement of your feet or even remain on time with the beat as you have one arm holding onto him and the other holding the glass of wine. Juan’s nose pressed against your cheek as you dance, drink and whisper little phrases of how much you love each other.

You only stop to pull away at the sound of a ‘ding’, the timer startling you both as you realise how much time has passed. There’s no time to mourn the loss of being wrapped up in each other as you serve up two large bowls, enough to satisfy two hungry guerrillas, before curling up on Antón’s plush couch. 

Juan practically sinks into the pillows as you throw a blanket over the two of you and begin digging into your meal with his head on your shoulder.

Somewhere between a mouthful of pork and a sip of your rum, yes the wine was finished ages ago, Juan’s muffled voices chimes in. “I could get real used to this, ya’know”

“No fucking way. I’m calling it off.”

“Clara!”

Your arms open in an attempt to reach and draw Clara closer but she slaps your hand away lightly, using it to turn her back to you as she flicks back over the blueprints and maps on the table. 

Juan and Dani had left long ago, making their way with a small team of guerrilla scouts to plant the explosives in time for Castillo’s speech. That left you and Clara to mull over plans on the rooftop of the hideout but at the mere mention of you entering into the hotel on your own, it didn’t take long for an argument to brew.

You were one of Clara’s best, following her from the day you’d met her all those years ago in the shabby library of Esperanza University. 

You were also so much more than that to her. Clara would never forgive herself if she willingly sent you to your death.

“You know I’m better with stealth than any of our guys. Let Dani draw them out whilst I sneak up to the penthouse– Castillo won’t see it coming.” Your voice comes out strained, pleading as you try to get her attention from over her shoulder. 

“No.” She remains cold. Her fingers clenching over the lip of the desk as she stares holes into the sewer blueprints.

“But Jefa I can–”

“Don’t Jefa me,” Clara turns to face you, but her anger isn’t there. Instead, it’s replaced with concern, frustration and most of all, fear. “I’m not going to lose you. Not even for a chance at Castillo, you’re far too important to me than he ever will.”

Her voice wavers towards the end, tears welling but she chokes it down with a grit of her teeth. When you don’t answer she turns her attention back on the table, hoping to stop the tears before they fall.

Clara never cries. She’s always so strong, so collected and well spoken– especially in front of Libertad. 

There’s never been a time where she’s been afraid to show her vulnerability, in fact, it’s why so many choose to follow her. The way she shares in your fears, and how she grieves and fights alongside all of you is what makes her so beloved. It makes her human. Her emotions have always held her one step above Castillo.

But she never cries.

You’ve only seen it a few times, when the stress and helplessness of the revolution catches up to her. It’s only in the comfort of her private quarters, so to see her so scared and vulnerable like this makes your heart sink.

The air shifts then, the frustration moulding into something more gentle. You gently brush your fingers along her bare shoulders, a little gesture of comfort to make your presence known before you loop your arms around her waist. Your chin rests on her shoulders, and you gently kiss at her skin where your fingers had just been.

“I’m sorry.”

Clara lets out a shaky breath at your confession, her own hands coming to hold your forearms as you keep her grounded with soft kisses.

“I can’t lose you,” By some volition she draws you impossibly closer, your nose brushing up against her cheek as she leans her head back into your space. “I can’t do this on my own. I need to fight for a Yara where the two of us are together.”

You know it’s a dream– you both do. Sooner or later either one of you will go down fighting. It’s just the way things were, too many people don’t get to see the paradise that their last dying breath goes towards. But that bridge can be fought when you get there.

Clara’s fingers loop into your own, bringing you back to reality and you draw both your hands up as you place a kiss to the back of her hand. She stares at your hands together, squeezing in reassurance as you have a silent conversation using only touch. 

In times like this words fail you both. Clara can make the most incredible speeches, but when emotions are running high and her loved one suggests one too many reckless plans, things only end in heated arguments. 

The touches, the kisses, the warmth of your hands together– all of it conveys everything you’re trying to say but fail to. 

I’m scared.

I know.

I can’t let Castillo take this from us.

Me too.

I love you.

I love you more.

Clara turns in your arms as your hands settle on her hips. She carefully wraps her arms around your neck, using the leverage to rest your foreheads together. Both of you breath, realising into each other as you soak up the intimacy of the moment.

Neither of you move, content to just hold and breath each other in before Clara eventually breaks the silence.

“I can’t send you in there alone, but if you go in with Dani you’d have each other's backs… would that work?”

You gently tilt your head, placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth before nodding gently with a smile. You were both terrible at compromising but in these quiet moments it seemed to work.

“Oh no-no-no hero if you think I’m getting into that i’ll have Chorizo eat you alive” 

“Common Philly! There’s nothing to be scared about– I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Philly digs his heels into the ground, finding no use as his shoes scrape against the concrete runway. The hand that’s not being held by your own is desperately trying to claw onto any scrap of metal or workbench surface to stop himself from getting any closer to the aeroplane hanger.

His fingers wrap around a metal street sign, one he designed himself to point the way to his workshop and he clings for dear life in his signature overly dramatic way.

“Chorizo! Espada! Someone help me! Anyone! Dani!!” His cries for help fall on deaf ears, as it's just been the two of you all morning. Philly is strong, but you’re stronger as you throw him over your shoulder and walk over to the plane you’d stolen and taken to fixing up as a side project with him. Not that he’d actually expect to ever be inside a plane one day whilst in the air.

“There’s a mad guerrilla trying to kidnap me in their plane! They lured me with their charms and heart of gold– but all they really wanted was a co-pilot.” Both you and Philly can’t help but chuckle as he flairs about, wiggling his legs and gasping like damsels in those old movies you both like to watch.

The colour practically drains from his face at the sight of the plane up close, and you think you might just have to carry him again if his legs give out from fear. 

“Relax amor, you’re not going to be chasing down dictators. We’re just going for a little scenic tour– see Yara in all its glory” Your smug smile doesn't match Philly’s own weary look as his fear of heights has never been more prominent until now. His eyes are trained onto the propellor and for a moment your heart skips a beat.

“Hey,” Your arms wrap around him gently, holding him in a warm embrace as he looks at you with brown eyes blown wide. “We don’t have to do this, you know? We can have just as much fun staying right here with two feet on the ground.”

He’s hesitant for a moment, switching between the plane and you before finally wrapping his arms around you and squishing your cheek against his shoulder.

“Let’s do it. But if we fall out of the sky I need my hero to catch me.” 

Philly flying in a plane for the first time is an experience you’ll never forget. The comms are constantly buzzing, his voice crackling to life as he swears in equal parts terror and awe at the birds eye view of Yara. It’s almost as if the view distracts him enough to forget where he is, until he’s right back to cursing the oluwas and clutching the straps of his parachute.

It takes a while, and despite the fear which still remains, Philly seems to enjoy the path looping around the mountains and tour of the coastal towns. His face is squished flat against the window in the back seat, trying to get the best view of the ant-like people wandering about as he waves down to them. 

The highlight of his day was obviously flying over the Montero farm, opening the flap to scream a ‘hello’ down to them despite knowing no one could hear him over the engine. But that certainly didn’t stop him rambling about it with Espada the next day.

–

A few days pass, and you’re sitting around one of the campfires at the Montero’s when Philly saunders up to you. He’s got his signature smile, one that can only mean trouble and a croc helmet under his arm in the way he sometimes carries Chorizo.

“Now it’s only fair hero. I face my fears and now you, yours.” He holds out the croc helmet with both hands, his eyes flashing with confidence knowing he’s got the upper hand.

“Like hell I’m going to be caught wearing that.”

“But herooo–” He whines. “You’ve never worn it before.”

“Yeah, that’s because it stinks of sweat and diesel” Your nose scrunches up at the memories of leaning into kiss Philly after a day of him wearing it. Traumatic.

“You’re missing out on the Philly magic” He looks at you with his best impression of Chorizo’s puppy dog eyes, blinking sweetly as if to steal your heart.

“Believe me, I’ve had more than my fair share of Philly magic.” Both of you break out into smiles as you wink at him, a hint of teasing underneath it all. 

“That’s my hero.”

“Coño– we need to send the scouts to get gasolina”

“No, our shortage of medicine is higher and there’s not enough of us to spare to go after both at once.”

Both you and Camila let out a long, drawn out huff. You’ve been hunched over the same map of Yara for hours in hopes of trying to organise the Farm’s resources.

José Castillo had been hitting back hard, reclaiming some of the Military outposts and checkpoints Dani had helped you take back. Everyone was exhausted and stressed, with too many guerrillas returning to camp injured.

Camila was doing her best to defend the reclaimed FND bases, but that only meant there was just a small collection of people who could help gather the resources to keep the farm functioning.

“If we got the gasolina then we could drive a truckload of medicine back to the farm.”

“Who’s gonna drive the truck if we don’t have the medicine to help the drivers.” Camila’s voice counteracts your argument, her hand wedging the knife deeper into the wood of the table as gets frustrated.

“Mierda– fine, we’ll get the medicine, then we’ll get the gasolina.” Your voice is full of playful teasing as Camila breaks out into a triumphant smirk. She holsters her knife but not before flipping it between her fingers as she rounds the table to stand beside you.

Camila wraps her arms around you, hands coming to rest gently on your waist as your own rest on her shoulders. You look at her from under your eyelashes, trying your best to switch from a hardened guerrilla to something softer and pouty.

“Just promise me you won’t rub it in that you're the better planner out of the two of us.” Both of you giggle as she steps into your personal space, nudging you against the table so you’re flushed together from the chest down.

“I’ll try my hardest.” You go to protest, but Camila just takes the opportunity to press her lips to yours. Your arms drags her shoulders towards you, deepening the kiss as she somehow gets even closer to you and you can’t help the small noise from the way her hands rub circles on your hips.

“Oye Espada– Keep it PG for Chorizo! He just woke up from his nap.”

Both of you pull away to glare daggers at Philly who can’t stop the smug smile at catching you together. He’s like the Farm’s younger brother, always teasing and causing trouble with his ‘Philly magic’ but still remaining everyone’s favourite.

Reluctantly, Camila eases up but leaves her arm wrapped loosely around your waist to keep you close and steady as the two of you walk to the driveway. Waiting there is a small group of five, some of the best guerrilla’s you’ve worked with– most of which were your neighbours and family friends once.

“Remember– medicine, then gasolina.” 

“Yeah, yeah… if you’re so worried then write me a shopping list.” You playfully roll your eyes as Camila watches you climb into the car besides the others. She always comes to wish you farewell before you leave, making sure you’re out of sight before going to train the new recruits for the best of the afternoon.

Just as you’re about to turn the engine on, her elbow comes to rest atop of the window as she leans down to give a soft kiss along your lips. “Don’t go getting into too much trouble.”