bcystar

Latest Posts by bcystar

OH MY GOD LIFE IS WORTH LIVING

Yo I wrote this in like the middle of the night when I was delirious, did NOT expect it to be so fire omg 🔥🔥

you were on the floor.

your knees were to your chest and your tears flowing nonstop.

joaquín gently rattled his key in the lock and opened the door. he was drenched. his boots squeaked as he shuffled in as quietly as he could. he scoped around the kitchen and living room, looking for a box. the box that was the cause of all of your tears. all of your pain.

it held so many of the items you held close to your chest for the last five years. the hoodies and sweats that always kept you warm in lack of joaquín’s presence, his little trinkets he found at random shops while deployed or on missions, gadgets he’d made when he had too much free time. what hurt most was the ring you’d grown to love so much for the last two years of your relationship.

joaquín had to go on an emergency mission right after the break up. it gave you enough time to pack up and isolate his belongings from yours. you’d saved your favorite items of his for last, too attached to them. only when you’d taped that cursed box did you realize what your life was now. no more of joaquín’s warm and protective arms holding you anymore, no more of his loving kisses that you were obsessed with, but most importantly, no more of the person who loved and knew you most.

your confidant. almost life partner. you’d planned your entire future together. he’d said “i don’t care how many kids we have, as long as i have you with me.”, all you could do was smile at him. you’d wanted a quiet life away from commotion. he’d promised it to you, as if it’d kill him if he didn’t get you everything you wanted. he wanted two dogs and a cat, and an alpaca. he never explained why and you giggled at his nonchalance on it.

the two of you had minimal contact while he was on this mysterious mission. he came back after two weeks. you didn’t leave your apartment once. just stayed watching the wall. sometimes moving to the balcony to look at the bustling city of Washington D.C. you only started packing his things after the third day. first his clothes and shoes, leaving a pair of pajamas and a decent outfit, then his electronics, then everything else, and then the box.

his sister had came by with two of their other cousins to collect the boxes. they’d stuck around for a bit after hauling all of the boxes onto the moving truck that they’d rented. you were close. of course you were close. you were basically family. you’d been at countless birthdays, baby showers, weddings, and gatherings alike. of course they were worried. you shook off their worries with a forced bright smile and affirming words, promising them you were alright. with much reluctance, they left, only after giving you one last bone crushing hug.

he rounded the corner to the room you were basically hiding in. hiding from what? you had no idea. maybe if you didn’t leave, joaquín wouldn’t either. that way you wouldn’t lose each other. he twisted the door handle but didn’t open the door. he left it closed. scared of seeing the bedroom stripped of him. every bit of himself that he’d brought to your life and home taped in a box, on its way back to Miami. “you okay in there?”

you stayed quiet.

“i’m coming in.”

you made no attempt to hide your tears. this was not the worst joaquín had seen you. he’d seen you through everything. nonetheless, no feeling could compare to the sight before him. your eyes were bloodshot—almost as if someone had poked your eyes—and snot was running down your nose. your lips quivered and you breathed little ragged breaths to calm yourself. you were a mess, you both could see it, you just didn’t want it to be too obvious.

“there’s the last of your stuff,” you nodded your head to point towards the box.

“I washed all of the clothes and cleaned everything else in the box, don’t worry.”

your voice was quiet. broken. as if someone had peeled away at the joy from you like paint on a wall. that someone was joaquín, and he did it without even realizing. guilt spread through his body like water to paper and he too could feel tears. “i’m sorry.”

you looked up.

“sorry for what? for saving people? for being a hero?”

“for not being able to keep my promises to you.”

he walks towards you and crouches to your level.

“i promised you a quiet life. far far from here, from the villains and the monsters. i promised you our cat and dogs. a future.”

“don’t beat yourself up, hero life follows you around like a tail.” you let out a broken chuckle.

“it was no excuse for me to not uphold my promise.”

for a moment everything went still. all the resentment and anger that you’d built up against him during his absence seemed to disappear. he was so certain that he was going to marry you. he’d wanted peace and quiet with you. you’d wanted it back with him.

“I’d beg you to stay but i know this is what’s best for us. that no matter how many promises we make to each other, there’ll never be a guarantee. you’re busy falcon-ing and i’m busy not. i need you quino, but i want you to myself, and unfortunately, the world needs you. so you go out there and you kick some bad guy ass, when you decide that you’ve had enough, i’ll be right here. that’s one thing i can guarantee you.” you cup his face with both of your hands and give him a smile. weak, but there.

you rest your foreheads together, your tears starting to slow. you breath in sync, feeling each other for the last time. not feeling physically but emotionally. sharing one last intimate moment.

his face starts to angle closer and closer to yours. you know what he’s doing, you desperately need him to do it. his mouth is a breath away, your heart is beating in anticipation. he pauses just before you make contact, an unsure pause, as if he thought you didn’t want it. you close the gap between you two, assuring him that you do want it. that you do want him.

his movements are slow and shaky. your hands remain on his cheeks and his come to cup yours too. it’s raw. no hurry, no anger, no hard feelings. just two lovers saying their last goodbyes without words. neither of you move. his taste is so sweet, you could be hung on his lips forever. his lips were slightly chapped, nothing you couldn’t handle. they were something you’d grown quite fond of throughout your relationship. he was unlike anyone else you’d ever been with. his kisses were definitely unlike anything you’d ever felt.

it almost killed you to pull away. he opened his eyes to look at you but you kept yours closed. you knew if you opened them you’d see the tears flowing down his face. you’d see the pure dejected look on his eyes that always held joy in them. of course you wanted to see him for the last time, it’s the face of your true love looking at you with pure devotion. joaquín torres is known for being a joyful. his happy go lucky attitude and positivity is basically his trademark. so you almost felt special knowing that you were the only person to see him like this. teary eyed and broken.



you were on the floor.

your knees were to your chest and your tears flowing nonstop.

joaquín gently rattled his key in the lock and opened the door. he was drenched. his boots squeaked as he shuffled in as quietly as he could. he scoped around the kitchen and living room, looking for a box. the box that was the cause of all of your tears. all of your pain.

it held so many of the items you held close to your chest for the last five years. the hoodies and sweats that always kept you warm in lack of joaquín’s presence, his little trinkets he found at random shops while deployed or on missions, gadgets he’d made when he had too much free time. what hurt most was the ring you’d grown to love so much for the last two years of your relationship.

joaquín had to go on an emergency mission right after the break up. it gave you enough time to pack up and isolate his belongings from yours. you’d saved your favorite items of his for last, too attached to them. only when you’d taped that cursed box did you realize what your life was now. no more of joaquín’s warm and protective arms holding you anymore, no more of his loving kisses that you were obsessed with, but most importantly, no more of the person who loved and knew you most.

your confidant. almost life partner. you’d planned your entire future together. he’d said “i don’t care how many kids we have, as long as i have you with me.”, all you could do was smile at him. you’d wanted a quiet life away from commotion. he’d promised it to you, as if it’d kill him if he didn’t get you everything you wanted. he wanted two dogs and a cat, and an alpaca. he never explained why and you giggled at his nonchalance on it.

the two of you had minimal contact while he was on this mysterious mission. he came back after two weeks. you didn’t leave your apartment once. just stayed watching the wall. sometimes moving to the balcony to look at the bustling city of Washington D.C. you only started packing his things after the third day. first his clothes and shoes, leaving a pair of pajamas and a decent outfit, then his electronics, then everything else, and then the box.

his sister had came by with two of their other cousins to collect the boxes. they’d stuck around for a bit after hauling all of the boxes onto the moving truck that they’d rented. you were close. of course you were close. you were basically family. you’d been at countless birthdays, baby showers, weddings, and gatherings alike. of course they were worried. you shook off their worries with a forced bright smile and affirming words, promising them you were alright. with much reluctance, they left, only after giving you one last bone crushing hug.

he rounded the corner to the room you were basically hiding in. hiding from what? you had no idea. maybe if you didn’t leave, joaquín wouldn’t either. that way you wouldn’t lose each other. he twisted the door handle but didn’t open the door. he left it closed. scared of seeing the bedroom stripped of him. every bit of himself that he’d brought to your life and home taped in a box, on its way back to Miami. “you okay in there?”

you stayed quiet.

“i’m coming in.”

you made no attempt to hide your tears. this was not the worst joaquín had seen you. he’d seen you through everything. nonetheless, no feeling could compare to the sight before him. your eyes were bloodshot—almost as if someone had poked your eyes—and snot was running down your nose. your lips quivered and you breathed little ragged breaths to calm yourself. you were a mess, you both could see it, you just didn’t want it to be too obvious.

“there’s the last of your stuff,” you nodded your head to point towards the box.

“I washed all of the clothes and cleaned everything else in the box, don’t worry.”

your voice was quiet. broken. as if someone had peeled away at the joy from you like paint on a wall. that someone was joaquín, and he did it without even realizing. guilt spread through his body like water to paper and he too could feel tears. “i’m sorry.”

you looked up.

“sorry for what? for saving people? for being a hero?”

“for not being able to keep my promises to you.”

he walks towards you and crouches to your level.

“i promised you a quiet life. far far from here, from the villains and the monsters. i promised you our cat and dogs. a future.”

“don’t beat yourself up, hero life follows you around like a tail.” you let out a broken chuckle.

“it was no excuse for me to not uphold my promise.”

for a moment everything went still. all the resentment and anger that you’d built up against him during his absence seemed to disappear. he was so certain that he was going to marry you. he’d wanted peace and quiet with you. you’d wanted it back with him.

“I’d beg you to stay but i know this is what’s best for us. that no matter how many promises we make to each other, there’ll never be a guarantee. you’re busy falcon-ing and i’m busy not. i need you quino, but i want you to myself, and unfortunately, the world needs you. so you go out there and you kick some bad guy ass, when you decide that you’ve had enough, i’ll be right here. that’s one thing i can guarantee you.” you cup his face with both of your hands and give him a smile. weak, but there.

you rest your foreheads together, your tears starting to slow. you breath in sync, feeling each other for the last time. not feeling physically but emotionally. sharing one last intimate moment.

his face starts to angle closer and closer to yours. you know what he’s doing, you desperately need him to do it. his mouth is a breath away, your heart is beating in anticipation. he pauses just before you make contact, an unsure pause, as if he thought you didn’t want it. you close the gap between you two, assuring him that you do want it. that you do want him.

his movements are slow and shaky. your hands remain on his cheeks and his come to cup yours too. it’s raw. no hurry, no anger, no hard feelings. just two lovers saying their last goodbyes without words. neither of you move. his taste is so sweet, you could be hung on his lips forever. his lips were slightly chapped, nothing you couldn’t handle. they were something you’d grown quite fond of throughout your relationship. he was unlike anyone else you’d ever been with. his kisses were definitely unlike anything you’d ever felt.

it almost killed you to pull away. he opened his eyes to look at you but you kept yours closed. you knew if you opened them you’d see the tears flowing down his face. you’d see the pure dejected look on his eyes that always held joy in them. of course you wanted to see him for the last time, it’s the face of your true love looking at you with pure devotion. joaquín torres is known for being a joyful. his happy go lucky attitude and positivity is basically his trademark. so you almost felt special knowing that you were the only person to see him like this. teary eyed and broken.



SOCCER PLAYER JOAQUIN PLEASEEEEE i am Seated and waiting

you and joaquín have a one on one match after his game

pairing: soccerplayer!joaquín x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k

authors note: hi anon hope this was to your liking! sorry this took so long, i was out for so long and forgot to post it :( i have my other soccerplayer!joaquín fic brewing at the moment so I hope this will suffice until then!! (also this was supposed to be a short blurb, idk what happened…) ENJOY!!!

Joaquín’s match had been over. All of his teammates were either in the locker room or already on their way home. All except for him. It was the last match of the season, obviously they’d came out victorious. The shiny gold medal weighed down on the yellow ribbon it was hung on and Joaquín looked damn good wearing it. His curls were slightly damp and sticking to his forehead, there was still a slight pink tint to his cheeks, and his jersey was latching onto just the right places. You could see the surface of his abs through the white jersey and it drove you wild.

Joaquín had scored the winning goal. The crowd had erupted in deafening cheers and his teammates were all bundled together chasing him. None of that mattered though. Not to him. As soon as he saw the ball push the net back on the old and rusty goalpost, he was booking it. It was as if you blinked and he had teleported in front of you. There was a bit of a height difference between the two of you because of the leverage the large bleacher of the stadium gave you but that didn’t stop him from kissing you. His arms reached up to cup both sides of your face and leaned you down. The kiss was passionate and heated, fueled by the adrenaline still pumping through Joaquin’s veins. His breath huffed into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. He lowered you just barely and his left hand slithered to push the back of your head towards him. You tilted your head to the side and embraced his shoulders. He softly bit your bottom lip—silently asking permission— and you make a little gap, allowing him to enter. His tongue explored every part of your mouth, as if trying to learn every ridge within you. All of your senses were filled with him and you felt a smile creep up your face. Your tongue’s fighting for dominance but you stood no chance to Joaquín’s ferocity.

Much to his dismay, his teammates finally caught up and crowded the both of you. You were the one to break the kiss, giggling as you did. You felt a string of saliva lingering on your chin and wiped it away immediately, scared his teammates might see. The center midfielder, Johnny, had hoisted Joaquín on his shoulders and made his way back towards the field. You could feel your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling, they got warmer the more you looked at him. You felt like a teenager all over again, giggling in secret about your boyfriend while he was surrounded by all of his friends. That was basically the last you had seen of him before it was time to pack up and leave.

He finally found his way back to you and ran up to basically tackle you in a bear hug, littering kisses all over your face. You couldn’t help the laughs that escaped your mouth at the feeling of his lips on you.

“I feel like I should be the one doing all of the kissing and doting,” you managed to escape out while catching your breath.

A low groan was all Joaquín could let out as he shifted his head off your face and onto the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his torso tightly and let him stay in that position for a moment. He breaths in a heavy breath, taking in your scent, and finally looks at you.

Your hair was disheveled and slightly messy, you were in his old jersey from high school—Torres #1–it was white with green lettering, you also had on his grey sweats that hung a little loose on you. The more he took you in the bigger the hearts in his eyes got, it melted your heart. “Okay c’mon, Quino. Let’s get home.” You took his hand in yours and led him from your spot by the home goalpost.

You felt him resist behind you and turned in curiosity, giving him a questioning look. The field was empty, even the refs and coach’s gone. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Let’s play.” A cheeky grin sat on his face.

“What?”

“C’mon! You and me, one on one!” He walked off to the side where there were extra balls and picked up the first one he saw.

He dropped it by his feet and looked up at you and kicked it just enough. You stared down at the ball and back at him, it was at the tips of your feet. You pushed your leg back slightly and kicked towards him. “Game on.” You smirked at him.

With that, Joaquín takes off towards the goalpost at the opposite end of the field and it takes you a bit to catch up. By the time you’re on his tail, you’re already at the center circle and sweat is starting to prickle out of your pores. You push the bottoms of your feet quicker to catch up to him and can see the ball is just barely in front of you. You reach out your left leg and can feel the ball against your foot. As soon as your foot makes contact with the ball, it pushes farther than the both of you and you catch up to it with ease. You stop it with the side of your foot and turn around to face Joaquín. He was only two feet away from you and charging towards you at light speed. You dribble the ball towards him and kick it right between the gap of his legs. He looks down and back up at you, with a stunned look on his face. You just laugh at him and run past him. You’d caught up with the ball so quickly he didn’t even notice you at the penalty arc in front of your goalpost. You kick a powerful kick and the ball flings against the loose and aged net.

You cheer while running to where he is, your face holding a sheen of sweat. All Joaquín does is stares at you like you hung the stars and keeps his hands on his hips. “First one to get three points wins?” He asks.

“Okay,” you smile at him and pick the ball back up from the net.

___

It’s the last round now. Joaquín took his shirt off after scoring his first score—you scoring two in a row and he scoring two in a row—and the sweat was making his abs glisten in the Sun. It was almost as if there was glitter on them. You saw the full sight of his flexed thighs as he held his shorts up slightly, you could’ve almost fainted at the sight. His curls were covering his eyes slightly due to the sweat weighing them down and you used that to your advantage.

The ball was in your possession, you were running to your end of the field and Joaquín was right behind you. His legs were reaching in between the gap of yours every time you ran forward and you could see his feet getting closer to the ball. The post was still a mere fifteen feet away and you kicked the ball to your right side, where he couldn’t see from his peripheral vision. Joaquín jerked his head up to clear his hair from his sight just to have it covering his face again when he looked down. Unfortunately that small maneuver was what cost him the goal as you kicked the ball into net—at a six feet distance—and watched it fall directly into the net.

“Booyah! Get owned babe!” You flaunted by raising your arms and as you slowed your running.

“Oh what! That’s not fair! You tricked me!”

“Nope! I used your disadvantage to my advantage.”

You were both slightly hunched over at the post, clutching your knees for support. You looked over at Joaquín, who was on your right, and saw the sweat beads roll off his abdomen. You were gawking, like hardcore. He looks over at you and notices you gawking and breaks a smile. “I should’ve went shirtless while playing earlier on, I would’ve won so much quicker,” he straightened and walks over to you.

“Yeah well you didn’t and now you lost.” You shrugged your shoulders, both of you fighting your laughter.

“You got lucky!” He picks you up and slings you over his shoulders.

“Ew Joaquín let me down! You’re really really sweaty!”

“Well you like me like that, cariño.”

Sigh…

I need a part two where they hug and kiss now 🥀🥀

Nobody Gets Me | Joaquin Torres

A/N: Heyyyyy sexies...so don't be mad but I'm in my angst bag, this is giving Hurt/no comfort and I'm not sorry! I've been in my emo era so EVERYONE SHOULD SUFFER TOO!!! ugh anyways, i might do a pt 2 with a happy ending eventually, but I present: Divorced exes to something hopeful?? HURT!! WOOO HOO! Also, I did give Joaquin a sister for this universe specifically (hopefully i continue it </3) Everyone say thank you to @love-chx for beta-ing this and apologize to her for not having a happy ending <3

Summary: Getting married young had it's risks, unfortunately for you and Joaquin, that marriage didn't work out, it's been years since you've been in contact, so why do your hearts still ache?

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort NO HAPPY ENDING!, OOC joaquin (he's mean, jealous, exhausted fr), the Blip </3, john walker jump scare!, SAM BUCKY SUPREMACY!, heartbreak, angst, failed relationships, divorce, mentions of joaquin's accident, spelling and grammar errors (we all know who I am atp), a lot of crying, mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of sex (no smut/sex depicted). dual perspectives? switching b/w joaquin and reader??? idk im sorry if its all over the place

Word Count: 10.4k (of sadness)

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader (THEY'RE DIVORCED GOD DAMNIT! Reader also has long-ish hair/hair long enough to braid with 2 white stripes by her ears (this holds a future plot purpose </3)

Joaquin baby I'm so sorry for the angst i put you thru in this but maybe next time, do better! </3

Joaquin Torres is amazing at his job, he easily worked his way up in rank during his time in the Air Force, as a Lieutenant he met Sam Wilson, who he would eventually work very closely with and even consider family. It was a no-brainer when Joaquin had become a Captain, and while working side-by-side with Captain America, he was also able to take on the mantle of the Falcon.

He poured his all into his job, and from the outside looking in, he loved every second of every day. Joaquin was always positive, always putting on a happy face, always committed to making sure everything was going smoothly and that everyone was alright at all times. 

He truly was a hero in every sense of the word—at least to the public.

After his accident in the Indian Ocean near Celestial Island, he’d spent months in physical therapy and rehab, pushing himself past his limits, working harder and harder with the end-goal of getting back into the sky. 

It was accomplished after one year and three months.

One year of long days and even longer nights. A year and three months of being on the ground and being reminded of everything he’d swallowed down, all of the pain, all of the hurt, he did his best to ignore the ache and emptiness in his heart. But when he couldn’t drown himself in work and distract himself with the literal thrill of the skies, all of that bottled up emotion was bound to overflow.

That’s also around the time that he resorted to one night stands. He’d always hated one night stands, not because he didn’t enjoy the sex, but because sex without a genuine emotional connection was never enough for him. If anything, the random hookups had him spiralling even more.

His physical therapist had also told him several times that he shouldn’t have been partaking in any ‘strenuous activity’ which happened to include sex—or at least the kind of frustration fueled sex he was having.

She’d eventually referred him to an actual therapist, who he avoided like the plague, purposefully missing meetings every other week to force the therapist to schedule him bi-weekly. Opening up to a complete stranger was hard enough, but having to provide a co-pay to be questioned about his lackluster decision making and emotional trauma was a lot on him. 

Especially after the incident in the ocean.

The therapist had recommended he spend more time with his friends, which he did for a while, and it worked the first few months. Catching up with friends on and off base, but traveling back home to Miami was what had sent him into a downward spiral in the fourth month of his recovery.

Joaquin Torres has always been a family man, he spent his childhood telling his abuela about how excited he was to grow up one day, get a beautiful wife, and have his own little family. As a teenager, he admittedly did have two pregnancy scares with his then girlfriends, except each time he was fully committed to being a father, even at sixteen. 

He didn’t exactly love his exes, but he loved the idea of being a father, and he knew that one day, he would be. At seventeen Joaquin had only hoped he’d be married and not screwing anything on legs before having a kid.

The day he’d flown back to Miami he expected his sister to pick him up from the airport. It wasn’t a shock to see Ximena there, clearly on the phone with someone, however when he heard his ex-wife’s name slip past her lips, he was overcome with a sense of nausea that he hadn’t felt since the day in court when his divorce had been finalized.

Joaquin Torres hated telling people that he was divorced, being a divorcee at the age of twenty-nine wasn’t exactly the biggest green flag in the world. Nor was it something he was proud of. It’d been three years since the divorce was finalized, three years that he’d been drowning himself in work and a faux sense of positivity to ignore the rage and hurt he felt deep down.

She’d muttered a series of apologies for being there, stating that her husband couldn’t make it, before mumbling some excuse to Joaquin while simultaneously hanging up the phone.

He couldn’t be mad at his sister, not for having a best friend, even if that best friend was his ex-wife.

You and Ximena Torres met in the fourth grade, quickly bonding over a shared love of seashells. That bond quickly spiraled into running around the playground hand-in-hand while scaring the fifth grade boys—one of which being her older brother Joaquin.

The two of you hadn’t gotten along until your sophomore year of high school, when your then-boyfriend cheated on you and left you sobbing under the bleachers as if it was the end of the world. (To your fifteen year old self, it was the end of the world). Ximena was comforting you, and eventually, she managed to convince Joaquin and his friends to ‘go scare’ your ex-boyfriend and the group of guys he hung around with.

Joaquin was on the soccer team at that point, and he also knew several of the football players as they all did winter track and field together, so the fist fight that broke out two days later was a no-brainer.

The day you’d stormed into his house, quickly greeting his Abuela before rushing up to his room, slamming the door open and kicking his then-girlfriend out before cursing him out for thirty minutes while ranting about how ‘wildly wrong’ it was to ‘organize a fucking royal rumble’—your words not his—had marked the beginning of your friendship.

That friendship would later develop into something else when you complained about lacking a date to your senior prom. He’d been home from bootcamp and had a month before getting deployed overseas, so he simply shrugged and said he would take you.

Prom night Joaquin had taken your virginity, or rather, you’d given it to him on a silver platter.

From there, things just flowed naturally. He’d taken you on a few dates the month before deployment. During his first eight month deployment you’d written to him constantly, and those letters, plus photos, and occasional phone calls, gave him something to look forward to when he got back home.

He left for deployment in June, then came back in January of the following year. He was actually stationed in Florida, closer to Florida State University where you went to college. Although he hated FSU on the principle that he would always be a Miami fan, he had no issue in visiting you on campus. The both of you were casual for the latter half of your freshman year.

Then that summer he asked you to be his girlfriend, ‘in the official sense’—his exact words being ‘well, we’re always together, and I really like you, and you really like me, so will you be my girlfriend in the official sense because you’re already my non-official girlfriend’.

At that point he was twenty and you were around nineteen. The both of you dated consistently for two years before he proposed to you the week before Christmas on the beach. You’d obviously said yes, squealing in excitement as he slid the ring on your left finger.

The wedding happened four months later, it wasn’t anything major, something small on a private beach, but at the time, in 2016, it was the best day of both of your lives. 

The following two years were amazing, at least until the Blip happened and Thanos had managed to snap half of the universe’s population away. Joaquin was lucky that he and his wife hadn’t disappeared off of the face of the Earth. But life got harder much faster than expected.

Work was difficult, the sense of impending doom never really disappeared, not when dread was so common amongst global leaders. There were a few positives of the Blip—well, positives if you ignore the long lasting repercussions after the Avengers had reversed the Blip. Homelessness had found some sense of a ‘cure’, politicians using the available resources to make themselves look better, and to finally do something about the hundreds of thousands of people living on the streets and starving worldwide.

The first year of the Blip, things weren’t horrible. Not between you and Joaquin, or on a global scale. The sudden surge of resources did have some positive outcomes, however, the resources also led to a growth in greed. The greed led to a downward spiral on a global scale.

Sure, the global economy might’ve been great from a corporation-based standpoint, but day-to-day life for regular people wasn't.

Job hours got longer, the price of items did increase, inflation was actually an unpredicted issue for a lot of nations, then of course was the need to expand and grow militaries to account for the loss in actual soldiers and enlistments. That directly impacted you and Joaquin, to the point that you had to uproot your life in Florida and move to the West Coast.

Prior to the Blip, Joaquin had been deployed two additional times, one before you were married for six months, and a second for eight months the year after you’d gotten married. Both deployments were overseas, and each time he’d come home, he wouldn’t leave your side for days. 

Following the Blip, Joaquin was never home, or never at the house that you’d purchased off base in California. It wasn’t a bad house per-say, it just wasn’t home. It lacked any real warmth, and it felt like it was draining you. It was difficult to find work as a journalist and publicist, not because there wasn’t anything to be done, but because you freelanced, and during the Blip, major news outlets and magazines weren’t looking for freelance writers.

That also led you to working on base, which should’ve brought you and Joaquin closer together, but it did the exact opposite. Especially when he’d see other Lieutenants flirting with the ‘pretty new media relations’ girl, you usually smiled and laughed it off, doing your best to keep your job.

However, Joaquin Torres was the jealous type, and when you’d both get in fights at home about it, he’d constantly say that you were flirting, that you were feeding into it, as if you had asked for men to flirt with you during your day job.

His job was beyond stressful, which also led to him always being irritable, that combined with the grief that both of you were feeling over the loss of family and friends following the snap. 

You and him both were shells of who you once were before the Blip.

The blip had lasted five years, your marriage was over by the third. It wasn’t until the Blip was reversed that you’d both finished fighting one another in court.

Prior to that, you’d been sleeping in different rooms, and acted more like roommates that tolerated one another rather than husband and wife.

Once the divorce was finalized, Joaquin stayed in California while you went home to Miami. He hadn’t heard from you since, and he had no idea where you actually had been, considering you were never big on social media, and now it was like you were nothing but a ghost from his past.

He did his best to ignore the nausea in his stomach after hearing your name, it wasn’t just your first name, no it was your full name, as if you’d said something so outrageous that Ximena was yelling at you over the phone while laughing.

Joaquin knew you were still friends with his sister. He’d never hold that against you, but it did hurt.

During his time in Miami, he did his best to ignore his intrusive thoughts, telling him to call you, or to reach out to your family, or to figure out where the hell you’d actually gone, or who you were now. It’d been three years, three years since he’d seen you, three years since he’d heard your real actual voice, not just the recordings and videos on his phone and laptop.

With his skillset, he knew he could’ve found you, but you didn’t want to be found, that much was clear to him.

Whenever people would ask about you, he’d just laugh it off, shrug, and force a smile. He was so used to being positive all the time that he easily slipped into that persona, most people had never seen him irritated, and he liked it that way. 

Then he ran into your mother at the grocery store, she pulled him into a hug with a wide smile and started talking his ear off, asking how he was, congratulating him on becoming a ‘real superhero!’, then she’d gone on a tangent about you. That’s how he found out you were in Washington D.C. working directly under James Buchanan Barnes.

The same James Buchanan Barnes that Sam Wilson was best friends with, and the same person that he’d assisted in taking down the Flagsmashers. He’d seen Bucky several times over the past few years, and never, not once, did he see you.

So he knew you were avoiding him. It wasn’t just a weird sense of paranoia, no, Joaquin knew you. He knew you like the back of his hand, he knew the best parts of you and the worst, and he was absolutely positively sure that you’d been avoiding him.

He also knew that both Sam and Bucky most likely had no knowledge of you being his ex-wife, or even of Joaquin himself being married at one point. It was more likely than Bucky knew, mostly because getting the level of security clearances needed to work for a Congressman required several in-depth background checks.

Joaquin feigned happiness as your mother spoke to him, and as soon as he could, he got the hell out of there.

Slowly, but surely, his composure cracked. He wasn’t the happy-go-lucky guy anymore with nothing but optimism. The thread of pessimism within him was unraveling, and he found himself slipping into a never-ending anger.

He used that anger to push through the next few months of his recovery once he was back in Washington. He went on a strict diet, stuck to his training plans, and started pushing himself even more, striving to go back to being the Falcon, to find some sense of purpose, and something to drown himself in.

The only vice he truly had was the lackluster one night stands. It was never enjoyable, but he needed to let off some steam, so he’d go to some of the bars in D.C., flirt a little bit, and go back to someone’s place with them, slipping out in the early hours of the morning without a word. It worked for him, or at least, he told himself it worked for him. 

He also told himself he wasn’t going for women that reminded him of you—which was a definitive lie.

Eventually, once he was back in the sky, back running drills, back working on his flips, kicks, and spins he stopped with the unhealthy coping habits. He’d even gotten a new suit from the Wakandans, a gift from M’baku himself after Sam had told him about Joaquin’s accident. The suit was carbon black, had some green detailing, and it was constructed from vibranium, the same vibranium that absorbed kinetic energy and released it.

Joaquin had never felt more unstoppable with the mantle and new suit.

But with the whole ‘New Avengers’ fiasco occurring in New York, Sam had been stressed, and he’d been doing his best to work with Bucky, trying to find some kind of work-around to the ever-present legal issues associated with there being two Avengers groups.

When he got the call that they were headed to the renovated Avengers compound in Manhattan, part of him was excited to finally see the place, but the other part of him was dreading the possibility of seeing his ex-wife. He didn’t know if she still worked for Bucky, and he never bothered to ask, he hadn’t even brought it up again after speaking with your mother.

He was tense on the flight to New York, and when Sam tried to pry it out of him, he lied about having a stomach bug.

By the time that Joaquin and Sam had arrived at the tower, it was nearly seven and the sun was setting. Admittedly, the place was nice, a bit too modern for him, but nice either way. 

He followed Sam’s lead, mostly because he had no idea how to navigate the tower and getting lost wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do. But the second the elevator doors opened, he heard your laughter, a series of loud, high pitched, wheezy laughs and giggles that he’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago.

Sam’s brows knit together as he looked at Joaquin, then he looked around the elevator and into the large common space. “You alright kid?” 

Joaquin blinked a few times, nodding his head, snapping out of his daze as he looked at Sam. “Uh-uh yeah sorry, I just, zoned out—nothing to worry about. Anyways, where's Bucky?” he was talking too fast, the composure he’d worked so hard on building up easily crumbled. Then he heard your laugh again followed by ‘Wait! Stop—put me down Parker!’. 

He must’ve been on fire, that would explain the heat raging throughout his body.

Sam shrugged him off, motioning for Joaquin to follow him as he made his way towards the commotion, Bucky easily spotting them, standing from his front row seat to your ‘fight’ with Peter. 

Joaquin quickly followed, jaw clenched as he finally spotted you. You looked so different while also looking just like yourself. Your hair was longer now, pulled into two thick braids trailing from the top of your head, down your back. It also had two large white streaks near your ears, which was different—but then again, Joaquin had been shaving his face religiously because the thought of your compliments on it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He noticed the way you smiled, wide and full of life. A look he hadn’t seen in so long, a look he missed desperately, every single day.

When Peter Parker finally put you down, you laughed again, shaking your head as you sat up, still not noticing Joaquin’s presence. But Joaquin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. It was clear that you’d been much happier and healthier, having put on some weight—but it wasn’t bad—the opposite really.

The last time he’d seen you, you were stressed, exhausted, and that reflected in your features and body. You’d never been super skinny, and he loved that about you—at one point he loved everything about you—but the years leading to your divorce, you’d dropped weight at an unhealthy pace from the long days and even longer nights. 

His eyes traced your entire figure from top to bottom, noticing the small things you’d changed as well. The few new tattoos and piercings stuck out to him, the small gold rings on both sides of your nostrils, and the alligator tattoo on your leg were very apparent. Joaquin also tried to ignore the faded Air Force t-shirt you had on, it was clearly his, and he remembered the shirt well.

Then you finally turned and noticed him. Eyes widening at the sight of Joaquin, and he kept his eyes on you the entire time.

Everyone seemed to notice the shift in the room, well everyone except for Sam and Bucky who were too busy talking amongst one another about a few legal documents, and Sam throwing in several of his typical ‘anti-government’ remarks.

It was as if time was frozen.

You blinked a few times, eyes on Joaquin—your Joaquin. 

The same man that you’d loved and hated at one point in your life, you weren’t even sure how you’d felt about him now, but you did know one thing, you had done your very best to avoid him at all costs. Sure, you knew one day it would probably bite you in the ass, but you hoped that was years from now.

Then again, you knew there was a risk when you’d taken the job as Bucky Barnes’s media relations secretary. This was your wheelhouse, you specialized in media relations and journalism, you would’ve been a complete idiot to decline the job.

But now, it was as if karma was coming to kick your ass.

You stared at him, unmoving as you processed seeing him again for the first time in almost four years. He looked different, more mature in a way that you hadn’t expected. He still had that boy-ish charm, but he looked older, stronger, and sturdier.

He still shaved his face, something you always told him to stop doing. Constantly telling him he looked good with facial hair, making sly comments and innuendos in public, giggling whenever he’d pull you into him, burying his face into your shoulder, covering any inch of exposed skin in gentle kisses as you laughed trying to shove him away.

But now he had a very visible burn scar along the right side of his neck, clearly stretching to his shoulder. You knew about his accident, and you’d been traveling with Bucky during that time, having sat in the waiting room while he spoke with Sam. 

Part of you wanted to see him, desperately, but you couldn’t do it.

Bucky had asked you several times, stating that he ‘just wanted to make sure’, but each time you politely declined, shaking your head.

The Joaquin you were seeing now wasn’t your Joaquin, not anymore at least.

You knew something was off about him, his eyes weren’t as bright anymore. Then again, neither were yours. Heartbreak and grief had the tendency to suck the joy out of things.

“You alright Lightning?” you blinked a few times, registering Peter’s voice, nodding your head as you finally glanced back at him, then after clearing your throat, you gave everyone an awkward smile before muttering some half-assed excuses and making a beeline out of the room, towards the other set of doors, far from Joaquin.

He watched you leave, scoffing while shaking his head.

Everyone made their introductions, but Joaquin didn’t have it in him to keep up his faux positivity, giving everyone tight lipped smiles and head nods. Mentioning his name and rank a few times, forcing a laugh when Sam made a joke about being the ‘Falcon’. When Peter tried to talk to him about the mechanics of the new Falcon suit, Joaquin brushed him off.

Sure you two weren’t together anymore, but he had every right to be jealous. Even if Joaquin was just your ex-husband. Peter had a nickname for you! That was enough to piss Joaquin off and make him dislike the kid.

When John Walker tried to question the entire interaction prior to the introductions, Bucky shushed him, giving him a pointed look which was received with a small head nod, and a loud sigh. Followed by Yelena elbowing him. 

It was clearly a touchy subject.

That night Joaquin couldn’t sleep.

Neither could you.

For the first time in years, you found yourself fishing your old phone and it’s charger out of the small lockbox below your bed, the box filled with some of your most prized mementos, photos of friends, family, birthday cards, small trinkets, a few necklaces, an old camera, the phone in hand, and most importantly, your engagement ring and wedding band.

It had taken a few minutes for the phone to turn on after connecting it to the charger. Then you sat on the floor, leaning against your bed in the darkness, eyes focused on the screen as you unlocked it—your old anniversary being the password.

Your bottom lip quivered as you opened the photos app, the most recent photo being of you and Joaquin at the zoo three months into the Blip, when you were still trying to find a sense of normalcy. Back when the both of you would still go on dates and try to cheer one another up, when you still fought the grief instead of wallowing in it.

He looked terrified while you had a wide smile on your face, three parrots on you, one perched in each hand and the other on the top of your head. 

Then you started scrolling, eyes burning with unshed tears as you went through the photos, happy moments forever frozen in time. Moments you wish you could relive, just for a day.

Finally you found it, the wedding video. You turned your phone horizontally, playing the ten minute video, a perfectly edited version of your wedding ceremony and reception, with a few blooper pieces of your family members giving their commentary on the wedding. Ximena put it together for you and Joaquin.

You looked so happy as he held you in his arms, both of you laughing and smiling, embracing the newly-weds title. 

The choked sob that slipped past your lips at the sight of your first dance unleashed the floodgates, you were full on sobbing now, watching the video with your knees to your chest, hand perched atop them. 

Joaquin used to look at you as if you hung the moon and stars. 

You remember that look, the look of unconditional love. 

You might’ve had a crush on Joaquin in high school, but he was the one who fell the hardest. He was the first to say ‘I love you’ and the day he proposed to you, he couldn’t stop himself, it was such a candid moment. He had a whole day planned for it, but then you two had gone to the beach, and the sunset painted you like an angel sent from above, the second you’d turn around, squatting to pick up seashells, he knew it was time.

He’d tapped your shoulder that day, as if he was showing you a shell, then you turned around—laughing at the awkward movement while still squatting, then you practically fell backwards onto the sand at the sight of him on one knee with an open engagement ring box.

Ximena had a thing for dramatics, so at the end of your wedding video, she also added in the video of your proposal, which was shakily taken from his phone, propped up against his water bottle in the sand, the angle a little crooked, but it captured the moment nonetheless. 

Three knocks on your door interrupted your sobbing sessions. You were quick to wipe your tears away, hoping you’d have enough time to tuck the phone away and climb into bed, pretending to be asleep.

But then Yelena opened the door with Bob at her side while you were trying to grab the box from below the bed, still on the floor. The two squinting into the darkness, letting their eyes adjust to the room with the helpful aid of the hall-way light streaming in.

Bob noticed you first.

“McQueen? Why’re you on the floor—wait, are you crying? Shit, Yelena she’s upset about something.” 

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you finally looked over at them, tear stained cheeks, red eyes, and a quivering bottom lip. Not to mention your frizzy hair, and tear soaked sweater sleeves.

They easily entered the room, Yelena turning on your desk lamp as Bob shut the door behind him. Then Yelena was sliding onto the floor beside you, and Bob in front of the both of you. 

The both of them were an oddly comforting duo, they were the best of friends, and honestly, after helping Bob start working through a lot of his issues, he had helpful input on most emotional situations. Plus, the fact that he cared was enough for you to let him in, and that went for Yelena as well.

Yelena noticed the phone, picking it up and looking at it, her brows knit together at the sight of the paused video, seeing a younger version of you in the arms of Joaquin Torres, smiles on your face while you flashed your wedding ring. Then she noticed that you were in a wedding dress, and he was in a full suit.

She squinted slightly, using two fingers to zoom into the paused video, eyes widening at the realization that the Air Force Captain she’d met today, was the same man in the video that you were very clearly marrying.

“We got married young. Like idiots. Then the Blip happened and I dunno, we just hated each other after a while, there wasn’t anything to fix. Then we went to court—spent almost a year going back and forth for the sake of arguing. Honestly, I only prolonged the divorce because fighting with him was better than not speaking to him.”

You sighed, now leaning your head on Yelena’s shoulder while the two listened and nodded.

“I don’t think it was idiotic to marry him if you loved him—did you?” 

You blinked a few times, glancing at Bob, then down at your hands again. “I do—I did. He used to make me feel like nothing could ever go wrong. Then suddenly, the fantasy all came crashing down.” You sniffled a few times, shrugging.

He nodded, looking at Yelena who was swiping through the different photos and videos, then her eyes widened as she let out a loud gasp, throwing the phone to the side, where it now sat face-up, a video of you and Joaquin in a very intimate position on the screen.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to flip the phone. It wasn’t like a full blown sex tape, but you were half-naked on top of him.

“So I take it you had a healthy marriage at first? Based on that-” Yelena pointed to the phone. Then she finally broke, loud boisterous laughter filling the room. Her laugh was always contagious, and it led to the three of you laughing amongst each other.

They’d managed to cheer you up in minutes, and that reminded you of how lonely you’d felt before meeting them. How mundane life felt, how every single task was draining. It reminded you of how draining life really used to be, when you’d always feel so alone in a room full of people.

When you’d seek comfort in the one person that couldn’t provide it anymore. 

“I really do love you guys.” 

Yelena smiled, nodding her head. “I love you too, in a completely platonic way, don’t try to mount me the way you mounted him—wait what's his name again?” Her brows knit together as she thought hard to remember Joaquin’s name, but she was drawing a blank.

Bob finally stopped laughing, shaking his head. “Joaquin—I think? Yeah, that sounds right.” 

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s Joaquin, Captain Joaquin Torres. Y’know when we were married he wasn’t a captain yet—” you stopped mid sentence, afraid of the potential word vomit or tears that might come out of this conversation.

On the opposite end of the tower Joaquin was pacing back and forth in one of the guest bedrooms. Not only was he angry, he was hurt, so hurt, in fact, that he’d spent thirty minutes crying silently in the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would numb some of the pain he was feeling.

It usually worked for physical pain, but emotional pain? It did little to nothing.

Seeing you was like opening Pandora's box. Joaquin always knew he was angry, angry at you yes, but he was angrier at himself. He’d never really forgiven himself for letting you slip through the cracks, for taking his frustrations out on you, for being overly jealous and never understanding, and for pushing you away. Constantly.

The Blip had taken a lot out of him, he was hurting, but so were you.

He forgot about that, about the pain that you’d been in. 

Your mother was blipped, and she meant the world to you. Anytime you’d call your father, you’d lock yourself in the bedroom after, sobbing for hours, holding a pillow against your chest, trying to find some kind of comfort. 

In the beginning, he’d slip into bed behind you, arms wrapped around your torso while you silently cried and mourned your mother. You were never really the blind hope type—he was. Joaquin had been there for you, there to comfort you, to bring you a sense of reassurance, and most importantly, to ground you.

His abuela had been blipped, he knew how it felt, the grief, but it wasn’t nearly as substantial as yours was. He loved his abuela, but he also knew she was an older woman who lived an entire life, and anytime they spoke, she’d always say ‘I love you Quino, if this is the last time we talk, just know i’ll always be there in spirit! Make sure you tell my princessa I love her too!’—or something along those lines.

He used to tell her not to talk like that, but his mother said it came from a place of love and of understanding. Every moment with someone was precious and needed to be valued, life was really too short to leave things unspoken.

So how he managed to leave so much? He didn’t understand. 

He blamed himself for the divorce, Joaquin knew that he was pushing you away. Then you’d gotten that job on base, and at first he was excited to visit his pretty wife during lunch. But then his jealousy took over, jealousy mixed with pessimism and all of the negative emotions he’d been swallowing down started surfacing.

It wasn’t like you didn’t try. You were constantly talking to him, constantly checking on him, spending nights with your hands in his hair while you asked if he was alright, telling him you were always there to talk. 

His job was stressing him out, he was under so much pressure, constantly. Tensions were rising at work, there were deadlines that needed to be met, tasks he didn’t have the time to do, and yet he still had to.

So he’d come home late, and he was bitter about it. Then you’d show up with a small smile on your tired face, mumbling something about making dinner, but he was tired, too tired to eat. He just wanted to sleep.

Some days he’d snap at you, and you were never one to sit and take it. 

That’s when the fighting would start, and the screaming for hours on end. You two would go back and forth until eventually you’d slam a door in his face and tell him to sleep on the sofa. 

Even now, as he paced back and forth, he remembers the sound of your muffled sobs, the way you’d cry after every fight. Then you’d pad out of the room in the middle of the night with a blanket for him, he’d pretend to be asleep as you covered him, kissing the top of his head, mumbling a rushed ‘I’m sorry’. 

You always cared, you did your best. 

He didn’t. 

He stopped trying, and he knew that. He was just so tired, so angry, so jealous, so frustrated. The world didn’t stop spinning, tomorrow would always come, but he was so angry as he focused on each individual day, then he couldn’t find comfort in you anymore.

At one point, you were able to calm him down within seconds, you’d wrap your arms around him and tell him you loved him, then ask to talk. He’d melt against you, an entire breakdown of his day would follow. Sometimes you’d comment, other times you’d nod your head while he spoke.

But eventually, the hugs, kisses, and gentle gestures stopped. Even the sex didn’t solve anything. It was just another way for the both of you to let go of tension, then he was grabbing a pillow and leaving the room, going to the sofa, and eventually, to the guest bedroom that had turned into his personal bedroom.

What made things worse was that you were both so young when you’d gotten married, young and naive. In a world where alien invasions were common, jumping the gun on marriage wasn’t that irrational, not  when you were truly in love with someone.

But sometimes love isn’t enough. 

That’s what had truly broken Joaquin, the realization that love wasn’t enough. 

Joaquin was twenty-six when the divorce was finalized, you were twenty-five. 

When he was twenty-two people told him it was idiotic to get married that young, that it was a mistake. So many people doubted you and Joaquin’s marriage, and now, he had to admit that they were right. 

He wanted to hate you, the last year of your marriage was the hardest. It was as if neither of you wanted to let go while simultaneously making one another’s lives a living hell. Buying a house together made it much harder to separate from one another, which also presented its own legal issues in terms of needing to be separated prior to divorcing one another.

Then there was the fact that you’d been married in Florida, seeking a divorce in California, while Joaquin was actively in the Air Force, and you also worked on base. It wasn’t like either of you would’ve been able to avoid one another, and truthfully, neither of you wanted to avoid each other.

The arguments and fights were never ending during that last month. Anytime he’d see you or you’d see him before a meeting with your attorneys, a screaming fest would start. Most of the fights had nothing to do with any divisions of assets, and you’d both already agreed to sell the house.

But Joaquin knew that he preferred fighting with you over never speaking to you.

The sound of his door slamming open caught his attention, his pacing stopped while he turned to look at the door. 

Sam stood here with Bucky by his side, a singular brow raised as he shook his head, the two men inviting themselves into the room.

“So you mean to tell me, this entire time, you had an ex-wife? Kid, you were married?” Sam was loud as he spoke, shock evident in his tone as he entered the rooms, hands moving as he spoke. “I had to find out from Buck! Of all people!”

“Hey—what’s that supposed to mean!” Bucky sounded offended while he leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, shaking his head at Sam’s comment.

“It means, I’ve been working with the kid for almost four years—wait! When we first met, you’d barely been divorced? Is that why you were in Tunisia?! On some finding yourself through work journey?” 

Joaquin was frozen in place, eyes wide as he looked from Sam to Bucky, then back to Sam. He didn’t know the best way to approach this situation. Sure, he knew that eventually he would’ve had to come clean to Sam about you, but that wasn’t ever a priority of his, mainly because he preferred to act as if nothing was ever wrong and swallow all of his feelings down.

“Yeah, when you introduced me to the kid, they’d only been divorced for around four months? I found that out from McQueen. Honestly, I’m surprised Joaquin held it in for so long, five drinks in and she was crying on my living room sofa.”

Bucky sounded so nonchalant as he spoke, which only irritated Joaquin. It made sense that you’d be spending time with him, he was your boss. But, you? Drinking with him? Then spending time at his place? 

Joaquin’s jaw was clenched so tight he was afraid his teeth would crack.

“Buck, why were you drinking with her—you don’t drink often.” Sam paused, looking over at Bucky. 

“I wasn’t drinking, we were at a fundraiser, y’know they’re boring as hell. People kept passing her drinks, she didn’t want to be rude when she was technically working, I told her to just chuck the drinks into some plants—then she started rambling about plants and their root health. Anyways, long story short, she’s an emotional drunk.”

Joaquin stifled a laugh, a sad smile on his face at the story. 

You’d always been an emotional drunk, even as a teenager when you and Ximena would sneak into his mother’s liquor cabinet, sneaking out to drink in random parking lots or at the beach. Then someone would inevitably call him to pick you both up, he’d always feign reluctance, but he never had an issue getting the two of you, and whatever other friend was there.

That’s also one of the first times you’d kissed him. He remembers the day as if it was yesterday, you were a junior in high school, he was a senior, it was after the big homecoming game. You were clearly plastered, laughing and shrugging with Ximena, both of you practically falling over with wide smiles on your faces as you stumbled into Joaquin in the parking lot.

He lectured you both that night, Ximena had fallen asleep in the front seat, so you opted to help haul her out of the car with him, giggling as you backed into him a few times. Joaquin kept shushing you, and after you both managed to get his sister into the house, you smiled at him in the dimly lit hallway.

Then you kissed him. It was quick, as if the moment you realized your lips were on his, you were immediately reeling back. Apologizing while giggling, then you’d gone into Ximena’s room, waving at him before closing the door.

“Hey stop daydreaming over there! You’ve got some serious explaining to do!” Sam’s snapping caught Joaquin’s attention as he slowly nodded his head, acting as if he was listening—he very clearly was not.

“Start from the beginning, let’s hear it.”

Joaquin nodded at Bucky, letting out a deep sigh as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He’d spent the next two hours explaining everything to them both, from the start of your relationship, to getting engaged, then to the Blip, and of course, the end of it all. The divorce, the fights, the anger, all of it.

In a way, Joaquin felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He’d spent so long bottling everything up that it had just become normal to him. 

“So you’re still in love with her and from what Bucky’s told me—she’s still in love with you. So what’s the issue here? Clearly you’ve both grown up, and Ray Charles once said, time heals a broken heart but time has clearly sat still while you two have been apart—”

Bucky cut him off, “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes, Sam.”

“You shut the hell up, I’m giving the kid some emotional motivation to win his woman back! Sure, they’re divorced, but they’re young and clearly stupid!—no offense Joaquin. It’s been years since they’ve seen each other! You’ve heard her side, Buck, now we’ve heard his! They’re in love!” Sam’s hands moved rapidly as he spoke, constantly motioning in Joaquin’s direction and the opposite direction, most likely where you metaphorically would be.

Bucky sighed, shrugging. “Okay, you’re right—” he turned to look at Joaquin. “I get you two went through a rough patch during the Blip, but I can guarantee, things’ll be better now. At the very least, you should try. Lightning McQueen’s not gonna reject you outright.” 

Sam and Joaquin shared a confused look before Sam spoke up. “Why the hell is everyone calling her Lightning McQueen?”

Bucky shrugged. “She wears Lightning McQueen slippers around the tower, sometimes she’ll stop mid sentence and say ‘kachow’. At first I didn’t get it, then she forced me to watch the entire Cars franchise with her. She cried during the last two movies.”

Sam blinked a few times, meanwhile Joaquin couldn’t hold his laughter in.

“That’s one of her favorite movies, something about a coming of age story—I dunno, she’s loved it forever.” 

Sam and Bucky looked at one another, then back at him, speaking at the same time, the mixture of “you’re both idiots” and “idiots in love” sounded a bit jumbled and confusing, but Joaquin got the point.

The next few days Joaquin’s only goal was to actually talk to you. It was easy in theory, there were only so many places that you could run off to. However, you knew the compound much better than he did, and anytime he finally caught sight of you, you were gone in seconds.

It was obvious you’d been avoiding him, and that was only irritating him more and more. He’d gone from being slightly hopeful that maybe you two could start over, to feeling himself slipping into that same pessimistic mindset he’d tried to swallow down and drown out with work.

He was hanging on by a thin thread. 

That thread snapped the moment he walked into the lab in search of some data on a few samples of adamantium that was recovered near a small island neighboring the Celestial mass in the Indian Ocean. 

He still had a job to do, even if he was also simultaneously trying to win his ex-wife back.

The moment Joaquin stepped foot into the lab, you were there, standing beside a large metal table where Bob was laying flat. Not only was the man laying down, he was fully shirtless and your hands were on his abdomen. From Joaquin’s angle he couldn’t see what you were doing, but he did hear your laughter.

Yelena leaned against one of the tables behind you, her arms crossed as she questioned your motions, pointing down at Bob where you’d been stitching him up, “If you go any slower, it’ll prolong the pain.”

You scoffed, glancing at her over your shoulder. “Well, if you hadn’t been sparring with knives, none of us would be here right now. This is the closest thing we have to a med bay, besides, if I go faster, I’ll fuck up the stiching and unfortunately for you, you don’t exactly have health insurance in the state of New York. Actually, I don’t think any of you do outside of Bucky and Walker.”

Bob winced slightly as you pulled the thread through his skin, teeth clenched, one hand over his eyes. “Why couldn’t I have a drink or something again? No offense Lightning, but this hurts.”

You sighed. “Remember your whole addictive personality thing? Sorry, but the best I can do is get Yelena to knock you out cold. But I think that would be another issue. Besides, aren't you supposed to be like a God or something? You’ll heal just fine! Don’t be such a baby!” Then you started laughing.

He groaned, wincing as he laughed as well, which made Yelena laugh too.

Joaquin finally walked into the lab, jaw clenched as he walked right past the three of you, his own metaphorical storm cloud following him. Except this time, you couldn’t run away from him, which he was grateful for, but he didn’t really feel like discussing your past relationship with people he hardly knew.

“Good afternoon to you too, Captain Torres!” Your eyes widened at Yelena’s words, fingers pressing a bit too harshly into Bob’s skin—earning a loud groan.

Joaquin scoffed, nodding his head to acknowledge Yelena while mumbling. “Yeah—afternoon.” 

He found a more secluded area of the lab, but it still had a direct line-of-sight to you. So Joaquin sat, stewing in his own jealousy for thirty minutes while you stitched up some gash on Bob's side.

Then Yelena was helping Bob get back up, stating that she’d be back shortly, but once she was out of the lab, the lights dimmed, then flashed red for a few seconds, before settling on a blue-ish hue. That was followed by Yelena’s voice over the intercom. “Sorry Lightning! But you two need to talk it out, or sex it out, whichever you prefer! I’ll shut down the cameras! Oh and don’t try to do any other work, Peter’s shutting down the systems externally.” 

Once she finished speaking, you were left in a tense silence as you cleaned up the area. The sounds of metal clinking, plastic shifting, spraying from the disinfectants, and the sounds of your frustrated sighing practically echoed in the room.

“Are you gonna say something to me? Or just be angry and clean the whole time. Not that I’m not used to that.” 

You blinked a few times, pausing your motions before practically slamming the metal tray in your hands against the countertop as you slowly turned to face him. He was still several feet away, but now Joaquin was standing up, leaning against one of the larger free-standing countertops that you typically examined samples on.

“I have nothing to say to you Joaquin.”

He shook his head at that. “Well, I have everything to say to you Ms. Torres.” He noticed the way your eyes widened as he shook his head, then he ran his tongue along his top teeth. “Y’know what’s absolutely insane, that I had to find out from Bucky—your boss—that you hadn’t ever gone through with changing your name. So you’ve been walking around with my last name, while fucking whoever the hell you want.”

You scoffed at that, there it was, the jealousy. “Excuse me? I’m sorry that I didn’t feel the need to go through another extensive legal process to change my goddamn name, when I already made a name for myself with the last name Torres. And seriously? Fucking whoever I want? I’ve gone on dates—I’ve had sex with other people. Oh well! Do you want flowers and a fuckin handwritten apology? Like oh I’m so sorry Joaquin that I kept your last name after being married to you for five years! My bad!”

Joaquin let out a sardonic laugh, followed by a scoff before speaking again. “Well, if you hadn’t disappeared off of the face of the earth, maybe I wouldn’t care that much. It’s like the second we were over, you were gone!” 

“What the hell was I supposed to do?! Stick around? Fight with you some more?! As if it was ever fucking enjoyable? I choose to leave, I’m not mad about it! I had to get the hell away from you, I had to remember who the hell I was—who I am! I didn’t even know who I was outside of being with you! So sorry if I choose to put myself first and go live my life Joaquin!” 

Your voice got louder and louder as you spoke, chest rapidly rising and falling, feeling the waves of irritation and anger rolling through your entire body.

He shook his head. “Did you ever think that maybe—just maybe I didn’t want the divorce. That sure we could’ve used some space and time apart but that I still loved you?! Did you ever consider that! Or maybe I still love you! That I was never able to move on?!”

You paused, lips slightly parted, brows knit together at the confession.

Joaquin scoffed, rolling his eyes, leaning his head back slightly as he looked up, silently praying to whatever God truly existed, that this wasn’t a mistake. Then his eyes were back on you.

“There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought about you. Every single worthless hookup I had, I thought about you, I purposefully went after women that reminded me of you just so I could fucking feel something—anything! But they were never you!” 

He ran his hands through his hair. “I swallowed down every shitty emotion I’ve felt for years, drowning myself in even more work, I mean I guess it paid off-or at least it had paid off until I fucking crash landed into the Indian Ocean!”

Joaquin laughed again, sniffling slightly, doing his best to ignore the burning in his eyes “The worst part was, when I woke up from a week long coma, I was delirious and high on whatever the fuck they were giving me for the pain—and I asked for you. I asked every single nurse for you. I get it, you wanted to go off and live your life without me—but you didn’t call, you didn’t text. Hell, I even asked Ximena if you knew and she avoided the subject.” 

You cut him off. “Shut the hell up Joaquin.”

He shook his head “No, I’m tired of holding this shit in, and if this is the only chance I’ll ever get to talk to you—then so be it! I waited for you, I waited in that goddamn hospital hoping and praying that maybe you’d show up with your sad smile and concerned eyes and tell me that I was an idiot and things would all be okay. But you didn’t, come to find out, you were there that day—the day they rushed me in.” 

You shook your head, jaw clenched, eyes watering. “Joaquin, stop.” 

Joaquin laughed again, shrugging. “Bucky told me you were there with him, that you hounded all of the nurses and the receptionists, but you never once went to see me. What? Hate me that bad you couldn’t even spare me five fucking minutes when I’m unconscious after nearly dying?!—” 

“Jesus Christ! Shut the fuck up, Joaquin! You don’t know what you’re talking about. For once in your life, shut your big fucking mouth! I’m sorry I didn’t go—you think I didn’t wanna see you?! I was fucking terrified! Terrified that you were gonna die on that table when they were operating on you! I was sobbing the entire time, I was so afraid of losing you—” 

You wiped your tears away, brows knit together, bottom lip quivering as you stared at him. “I’d already lost you once. I didn’t have it in me to lose you again. I couldn’t see you like that, I tried—I wanted to. I couldn’t do it. You don’t get to hold that against me—” 

You pointed at him as you spoke. “You don’t have the fucking right to hold that against me.”

Joaquin blinked a few times, watching as your walls were crumbling. He knew you were still hurt, that much was obvious in the way you’d been avoiding him—but to know you were hurting like this? 

It broke part of him, and for a second he felt like his nineteen year old self again on the night he’d taken your virginity. He remembered the way you tried not to cry, word vomiting your insecurities and vulnerabilities to him while the two of you sat in his childhood bedroom. Joaquin remembered the way you looked, the way you couldn’t meet his stare, the way you held the blanket to your body to shield yourself from him, even if you were still in your dress.

He knew you so well, he used to know exactly how to comfort you, exactly how to make your worries disappear.

Now he didn’t.

Now he was the cause of them.

“I loved you until the very end of our relationship. Don’t ever sit and act like I didn’t—like I don’t care about you. Joaquin, you were my first love, you meant everything to me. I married you when I was twenty-one like an idiot because I had so much faith and hope in our relationship—in our love. I know I was wrong to up and leave once the divorce was finalized, but I didn’t want to work through things just to be your friend. I could never in my life be your friend Joaquin—not when you knew everything about me—every single insecurity, every hope, every dream.”

You weren’t wiping the tears away anymore, a sad smile on your face as you looked down at your hands, then back to him. 

“If I could do it all over again, I would. Just to get the chance to love you like that again. That’s why I left, because I knew if I stayed, I would’ve been right back with you—right back to wanting to hate you, knowing I never could and I couldn’t take it.”

He was at a loss for words, tears finally flowing along his cheeks while he looked at you. Joaquin finally processed how he’d broken your heart—broken you. He’d broken you down time and time again, letting his own insecurities, exhaustion, and pessimism get to him. 

He’d hurt the one person he never wanted to hurt—you.

“Everyday I think about you. I think about how you’re doing, I wonder what Sam’s got you wrapped up in, I laugh at the stupid jokes you make during press releases and media statements as the Falcon. Hell, I even pray for you, which is crazy because I don’t even know if there’s even a higher power—but the faith that you’ll be okay each and every day is enough for me. I ask Ximena about you all the time. Whenever I go back to Miami, I make sure to go see your family.”

Joaquin was genuinely speechless. This entire time, he thought you just didn’t care. That you wanted as much distance between the both of you as possible. He’d been so angry for years, angry at you, and angrier at himself.

“I don’t think I’ll ever not love you Joaquin, and that in itself, is enough to make me avoid you. I don’t want what we had, I hated it. I hated every fight, I hated watching you leave after we had sex, I hated the sight of you sleeping on our sofa. I hated all of it. I know life was really hard at that point, I know I wasn’t the best wife or partner, but I tried. I tried everyday but you held everything against me, constantly.”

You sniffled, biting your bottom lip while trying to recollect yourself. The tears were flowing, and you couldn’t stop them.

“You were so mean, all the time. You weren’t the Joaquin I had fallen in love with, honestly, I know I was a shell of myself, but you—you were so much worse. You never let me back in—” a short sob slipped past your lips while you cried, looking down at the ground, taking a few deep breaths. “I wanted you to let me in again. I remember purposefully forgetting documents and prolonging our entire attorney experience, just so I could spend more time with you. Because I knew the second it was over, I was leaving.”

The silence was suffocating.

You were doing your best not to sob. Joaquin was processing everything—he’d never truly known how it all affected you. He’d never seen you sob at night, sure he knew you cried, but he didn’t see it, he didn’t notice how broken you truly were.

“I’m sorry.” Joaquin spoke softly “I’m so sorry—baby—I didn’t know. I just—I didn’t realize how bad things were until it was all over. And I was just so angry all the time, everything made me so mad. Then I’d see you, but everyone was always gravitating towards you, and it makes sense because you’re beautiful, funny and so intelligent, but it bothered me.”

He paused, now stepping closer to you, hesitating before gently caressing your face, angling it towards him, away from the ground. His thumbs softly wiping your tears away.

“I was so insecure and jealous and downright mean, and I’m sorry for putting you through hell. You meant the world to me—hell you still mean the world to me. I’ve been so angry this whole time, I thought I was mad at you, but I was mad at me. Mad that I’d fucked up so bad, mad that things hadn’t worked out, that I stopped trying.”

You leaned into his hand, teary eyes now looking into his.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. I want you to know that, even if nothing comes from it. I’ll always love you, there’s nobody in this universe that gets me the way you do, I know it’s been years, but I don’t think I’m ready to just let you go again.”

Joaquin’s vulnerability shocked you, not because you didn’t think he was capable, but because this Joaquin, this was your Joaquin. This is the man that you’d fallen in love with.

“I never wanted you to let me go, Joaquin.” 

He’d been the one to suggest the divorce, and it had taken a few months of fights before you’d actually considered it. 

By that point, Joaquin was rarely sleeping with you, and the only time the two of you weren’t fighting was when you were both on base at work. Outside of that, the fights and arguments were constant, an unrelenting cycle, and you had finally hit your breaking point.

The last major fight before the divorce ended in you screaming at him before tossing a large yellow envelope on the kitchen island.

You both signed the papers that night. Then the filing process started.

That night you cried into the stuffed bear that he’d won for you at a carnival when you were nineteen. It was one of your first real dates, and you’d been so excited when he’d managed to actually win the ring toss three times in a row, scoring the large panda bear, giving it to you with a dopey smile on his face.

“Please—give me a second chance, I’ll do everything right this time—I won’t fall back into old shitty habits—I promise baby” his voice was strained as he tried not to cry. It took everything in him to not fall to his knees to beg for you back.

You sighed, pulling away from him as you shook your head.

“Joaquin, I think time apart might’ve been what we needed. But I still see the way you look at people around me, I still see the same shitty habits, and honestly, I think we might be better apart for now. We both have stuff to work through, but I won’t up and disappear from your life again”

He nodded as you spoke, biting his bottom lip, watching as you shrugged, sadness pooling in your teary eyes.

“I can’t be your wife again—not now at least. But maybe one day when we’re in a better spot.”

Joaquin sniffled a bit, looking up at the roof, then back at you. “One day for sure.” 

Then you kissed him, it was soft, hesitant, but he knew it wasn’t a welcoming kiss. It was similar to the last kiss you’d given him the day your divorce finalized. As if you were saying goodbye again.

Joaquin only hoped that the goodbye would be temporary.

-

Thanks for reading my lovers <3 as always feedback is appreciated!!!

Not to be the weird military party pooper but I’ve read many fics were Joaquín went to bmt straight out of high school but that straight wouldn’t make sense. He’s a Captain in BNW and a Lieutenant in TFATWS and those are officer ranks and he’s an Intelligence Officer which requires a bachelors degree. In my mind, he went to the Air Force Academy cus he’s a smart lil cookie 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. Again, don’t mean to be the weird military party pooper, js wanted to share a lil thing cus it’s a detail in my upcoming fic 💔💔💔

—SPU’S MASTERLIST

MARVEL

Joaquín Torres-

— PHOTOGRAPH

— STAY FOR BREAKFAST

— NO NEED TO BE DRUNK

— CANT HANDLE IT

soccer player Joaquín

Joaquín angsty “blurb”

— SPARSHA SANGEET

Steve Rogers-

— THIRD AMENDMENT

James “Bucky” Barnes-

— THIRD AMENDMENT

— TOO HOT TO HANDLE

Tony Stark-

— SEVEN MINUTES

Peter Parker (Tom Holland)-

— SEVEN MINUTES

Robert “Bob” Reynolds-

TBD

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Jake “Hangman” Seresin-

— Hangman’s tapping out ceremony

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw-

— Rooster’s tapping out ceremony

Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia-

— IS THAT X-MEN?

Hi I fell down a US military rabbit hole like a week or two after I posted this and I did like a bunch of research and realized that this is like mildly inaccurate. You don’t get tapped out when you graduate from the Naval Academy cus it’s literally university (not bmt) and the Naval Academy is literally in Maryland not California 🥀🥀

Hangman’s tapping out ceremony

warning: bad parents

Jake stood tall under the blazing California Sun with his back as straight as can be. He could feel the beads of sweat fall down his forehead and back as he waited to be tapped out. His head was held high and he was so excited. Not only was he graduating from the Naval Academy, his dad had promised to be there. His relationship with his dad was far from perfect but it seemed to be getting better as time went on. When Jake was younger, he’d always wake up before Jake and get home after he was tucked into bed, the only time Jake did see him was during holidays.

He kept his eyes staring right ahead but the urge to shift them around to search the face he’d yearned to see for so long was clawing away at him. He saw the person in front of him get tapped out. They had what seemed like their parents, grandparents, and siblings there. He saw as the presumed father gave the soldier the biggest and tightest hug and how the soldier melted into his father’s arms. Jake couldn’t wait until his father came and did the same thing. He wondered, would his sisters and mother cry at the sight of him? Would his dad give him a hug that loving?

He watched as more and more soldiers walked away with their families and friends. There were only and handful of people left and he could see more families approaching from the corner of his eyes. He listened as the soldiers next to him reconnected with their families. The sobs of their mothers and the encouragement of their fathers.

It was when the only people that left were ones tens of feet away from him did he realize that his family was not coming. He felt the tears well up in his eyes and he desperately tried to blink them away. Through his tears, he saw one more family approach and tap out a soldier ten feet ahead of him. His tears flowed down his face as he choked back his sobs. It wasn’t anything new for his father to not show up but not even his sisters? He tried to make excuses for them in his mind but the thought of them only made the tears flow faster. That’s when he saw a familiar face. Was that…Javy?

He watched as Javy and his family walked his direction and he opened his arms wide to Jake. Finally, he felt a big and tight hug. As embarrassed as he was to do so, Jake sobbed into Javys arms. He basically turned into a puddle feeling a hug. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his back, a softer and smaller pair. He could only assume it was either Javy’s mom or sister.

“Thank you” Jake forced out through his sobs.

“Anytime man. Welcome to the Machado family.”

introducing the garcía-torres twins. yes they exist in the same universe bc i have free will

THERES MORE 😛😛

Hi huzz 😈🙏🏼

— IS THAT X-MEN?

you have the best first and last date with a mysterious sailor

pairing: Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

authors note: Hi sorry for not posting a fic in a hot minute…finals took all the motivation out of me 🥀🥀 Not gonna lie, I had no idea where I was going with this…I had like a slight idea and ran with it 🤷🏻‍♀️ I was supposed to post this on Monday but I also started to write it on Monday (and it was Memorial Day and I was at a bbq like most of the day) so then I was like “I’ll js post it the last day of fleet week” which was Tuesday but I never did so here it is now!! My plan for next year is to post for a different dagger each day of fleet week 🙂‍↕️ I love the daggers and I love writing about them so if y’all have any requests on any of them, js leave it in my inbox!! ENJOY!!

The soft patters of the rain falling silenced your brain as you admired the art panels on the flimsy page of the comic. You studied the artistry and the bright of the colors but were pulled out of your trance when you heard the bells of the front door ringing followed by hurried squeaks. You tore your eyes off the page and were stunned by the sight before you. A lost looking man with the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen was hunched over with his hands of his knees while taking big breaths. It looked as if he was trying to suck all the air out of the room. Five huffs later he straightened his posture and rested his hands on his hips and started to look around. His eyes could’ve lit up the entire city by the look he gave when he saw his surroundings. He turned around slowly looking at each and every comic cover and he resembled a child in a candy store. You felt yourself grin at his reaction but quickly dropped it when he faced your direction. You focused back on the panel before you hoping he hadn’t seen you staring at him.

You heard his shoes squeal beneath him and started to internally curse yourself for being such a gawker. He finally stops in front of you and takes a moment to analyze before speaking. “Is that X-men?” You look up from the panel and immediately catch his big brown eyes.

“…uh yeah! Uncanny X-men vol.5!” You said in a bit too enthusiastic tone.

“I love this series! Is this your first time reading it?” You could’ve melted the way he smiled so widely at you.

“No I read it a few years ago, I like to re-read comics when I’m bored.”

“Me too! I carry some in my bag whenever I have to travel far for work.” It’s only then you take in his clothes. A tan khaki shirt with a name pin reading “Garcia” above one pocket and a row of colors that has a pin of wings over the other paired with khaki uniform pants. They had dark brown dots scattered over them so it was obvious he was in the rain for a bit. It’s almost that he sensed the gears shifting in your head when he followed up his sentence. “I’m in the Navy” he chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Wow that’s cool, what’s your job?”

“Uh weapon system officer, I basically sit in the back seat of the plane and manage the weapon systems, hence the name.”

“…What’d you mean by the back seat? Isn’t there like a bunch of seats on a plane?”

“Well not those types of planes. I mean like an F-18! You know, a fighter jet?”

“What! That’s sick!”

And just like that you both got engrossed in conversations about comics and fighter jets alike. He’d told you about the different types of aircrafts the Navy flies and even went into intricate detail about the F-18 Super Hornet. He’d spent maybe fifteen minutes geeking out over fighter jets and you felt yourself getting butterflies in your stomach at the passion oozing off each word he spoke about his job. Somehow while he was talking about fighter jets he transitioned the conversation over to Marvel and now it was your turn to geek out. You explained the lore of Wolverine so well that Mickey could feel his knees weaken at your excitement for it. Somewhere along your tangent you’d mentioned Star Trek and his reaction could only be described as a person getting electrocuted seeing the way he lit up in joy.

You’d spent who knows how long talking about your favorite characters and comics that you hadn’t even realized the rain stop and the Sun hiding under the horizon. It was only when Assad, the store manager, cleared his throat from behind Mickey that you realized how late it had gotten. You peeked over Mickeys shoulder, out the window, and saw the bright artificial lights illuminate the sidewalks of twenty-first street. You looked back up at Mickey—who was hardcore staring at you—and speak up. “Hey if you’re not busy, wanna grab a bite right now?”

“Sure! Where do you suggest we go? I’m not really from around here.” He responds while walking next to you as the both of you make your way out the door.

Mickey—being the gentleman that he is—holds the door open for you and bows his head “After you m’lady.” You giggle as you give him a small curtsy and walk out of the store.

He follows suit and his frame slightly towers over you. You walk a few paces in silence before you finally break the silence. “I never caught your name.” You look up at him.

“Oh yeah! I’m Mickey!” He extends his hand to you.

You respond with your name and shake his hand with a light chuckle.

Your hands linger together as you both stare into each other’s eyes and it seems that New York City falls silent for the first time. The chill of the air that was nipping away at your arms numbs away when his chestnut brown eyes with his widely dilated pupils find yours. You can feel heat creep up your cheeks and you notice the visible bright pink tint that adorns his cheeks the longer your hands stay intertwined. You reluctantly dropped your hands as you looked at the slightly busy sidewalk ahead of you. His head was still facing you and his gaze was analyzing all of your features. His eyes traced over your eyes, taking note of how deep they are and how they shine even under the streetlights. His eyes then looked over your nose and cheeks—holding back the urge to kiss them—and they finally fall onto your lips. They looked so kissable, they had a slight shine to them and they fit your face so perfectly. He licked his lips at the thought of getting a taste of them.

“You know I can feel you staring right?” You spoke while still looking ahead.

He immediately turns his head the same direction as yours in embarrassment and you can see his ears go bright red out of the corner of your eye. You chuckle at his reaction and wrap your arms around his left arm before speaking, “You’re so easy to fluster.” And you look up at him again.

Mickeys heart skips a beat at your sudden action and you can feel his muscles tense beneath your fingers.

“Well it’s difficult to keep my composure when I’ve got such a gorgeous lady wrapped around my arm.”

“Mmm I can imagine.” You say with a smug expression.

He turns his head to face you—probably for the umpteenth time—and his eyes flicker down to your lips. “So where you taking me?”

“This gyro stand, I’ve been going there since I was a teenager. I swear it’s the best gyro I’ve ever tasted!”

“I’ll hold you up to that.” He smiled at you.

It only takes five more minutes of exchanging details about yourselves before you finally reach the familiar face of the vendor, Sammy, and his stand. Sammy exclaimed happily as the two of you inched closer. “There’s my favorite customer!”

“There’s my favorite vendor!”

You both basically synchronized when you laughed at the same time. You leaned forward and gave Sammy a small hug over the low counter. It’s only when you pull back that he acknowledges Mickey. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Ah this is Mickey, we met down at Assad’s!” You say as you gesture behind yourself.

“Oh how is he?”

“Same old same old. Anyways, I will have two of my usual order please.”

“Ookay my darling that is fourteen dollars and twenty four cents.” Sammy says while he taps away on his little screen.

You get your wallet out of your pocket but you halt your action when you see Mickey dig through his wallet. “What are you doing?”

He looks up at you and waits a beat before responding. “Paying?”

“You’re not paying” you say as you nudge your card towards Sammy.

“Yes I am” Micky pushes his card closer to him.

“No I suggested we come here, it’s my responsibility to pay, move over sailor.”

“Well I’m the man so you’re not paying on my watch.”

Sammy smiles widely as he taps away on the payment screen.

“Neither of you are paying, this one’s on the house, lovebirds.” You and Mickey both stop in your antics and look at Sammy.

He was already busy assembling your orders with a wide smile on his face so there was no point in arguing. You and Mickey scoot closer to the pickup window and watch Sammy diligently work. “So how long are you gonna be in New York?” You ask.

“One more day, but I have an air show tomorrow and I’ll have to practice all day.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“Let’s make tonight worthwhile then.” You face him

“Is it not already?” He asks.

“It is, but, I don’t wanna ever forget tonight and I don’t ever want you to forget tonight.”

“Oh trust me, it’s already been pretty incredible.”

“Ahem if you guys are done now, here’s your food.” Sammy stood awkwardly while holding two gyros in foil wrapping.

You give Sammy a sarcastic eye roll as you take the wraps from him. As you turn to leave you shout “THANKS” and give him a smile as you take a big bite. Mickey was already on his third bite as you were just starting and you laughed at that. Mickeys “What?” comes out muffled as his mouth is full of food.

“You look like a squirrel!” You escape out through heavy laughs.

Mickey’s look of disbelief turns into a smile—or the best one he can give—and he starts to laugh too. He swallows the food remaining in his mouth and his laughter fills your ears. Your eyes squint and the skin around them crinkle and he swears there’s an angel before him. He’s more staring at you than laughing but there’s still soft giggles escaping him. You take another bite of your wrap and swallow before speaking. “Wanna go to my place? I have the best view of the fireworks from my window.”

“How far is it? I have to return to the boat soon.” Mickey says while checking the time on his watch.

“About a thirty minute walk, you don’t have to if you don’t want to! It’s totally cool if not we can do something else!” You say while rocking on the heels of your feet.

Mickey smiles in endearment “Lead the way, m’lady.” He offers you his arm once more and you accept it happily.

“You don’t have like a secret wife, girlfriend, or family do you?”

He chuckles at your question “I can promise you with my whole heart, I do not have a secret wife, girlfriend, OR family.”

You give him a soft smile and walk slightly ahead of him.

As your trek back to your apartment continues, you hear loud popping sounds from the sky behind you. You feel Mickey halt and turn around to see him staring up at the sky. You look up too and see the bright colorful lights blush the sky. A bright smile is plastered on your face and there is a glittery shine in your eyes. All the people around you seem to freeze too, to stare at the fireworks, all but one. Mickey was trying to look at the sky, really. Instead, he could only focus on you. The look you had on your face made his world stop and his knees buckle. He’d gotten so engrossed that he hadn’t even felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

“I think your phones ringing.” You snapped him out of your trance.

“Huh?” His head snaps away from you and his hands hurry to his pocket.

He fishes out his phone from his right pocket and sees Reubens name and photo illuminate his screen. He excuses himself and steps right out of earshot. You see him worriedly speak into his phone and an angry expression his hung on his face. He huffs out a heavy breath before hanging up the phone and reproaching you.

“I’m so sorry, there’s an emergency and my friends need me.”

Your heart twinges in disappointment but you push it aside.

“Oh…”

He pushes his phone your way before speaking again. “Here. Please put your number in it. I had a really really great time tonight. I really like you, I really don’t want to leave.” He basically begs.

You take the phone and type your number in and save your name. You take a quick selfie and save it to your contact on his phone. He takes the phone back and smiles at his screen before he turns back. “I’ll call as soon as it’s over, promise you’ll pick up?”

“Promise.” You give him a simple wave and he gave you an excited one in return.

“I’LL BE WAITING!!” Is the last thing you shout to him before he disappears from your line of view, you hear a faint “OKAY” coming from his voice and grin to yourself.

You couldn’t wait for his call.

Didn’t even have to tag him, js say you want me, Danny 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Me when I have been lowkey too demotivated to write 🥀🥀🥀

I need to make this a Joaquin fic now…

Oh my god the fan edits came true…

THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS BELOW!!!

No one was lying when they said it was the best movie since Endgame…the humor and emotion was so beautifully expressed by all the actors. There wasn’t too much of this or that, it was incredibly well balanced. The emotion, oh the emotion. It pulled at your heart strings so hard and it really makes you feel for the characters. This is a movie about a group of misfits who need fight their inner fights rather than trying to distract themselves with outer fights. Seeing them become the “New Avengers” almost made me feel proud in a sense. Like, Yelena and Ghost being seen as good guys after not feeling like they are is so heartwarming. The climax of the film, Bob fighting The Void…oh boy was that scene absolutely magnificent. Lewis Pullman put so much into it and you can tell. All of them gathering around Bob and giving him a big hug was probably my favorite part. I can’t wait to see how the dynamic of the New Avengers and the Avengers team Sam’s gathering is going to play out in the future films! The change from Thunderbolts* to The New Avengers while the Avengers theme played had me gagged tbh. Lastly, Lewis Pullman is so incredibly talented and sexy. 10/10 would watch again and would recommend

— SEVEN MINUTES

Tony takes care of Peter, even if he’s not actually there

Iron!dad and Spider!son (ish)

wc: 2.5k

warnings: fighting, gun violence, mentions of death, blood and injuries, imagine Peter got a bit more time with Tony, May, and Ned + MJ…

authors note: hehehehehehe I’d recommend listening to “White Ferrari” by Frank Ocean and “For the First Time” by Mac DeMarco while reading this! ENJOY!! 😁😁

There were bodies scattered all around the misty lot. Various weapons and gadgets not too far from the mercenaries. Peter was slumped on the ground, his back against a lamp post and his hand on his abdomen. It was supposed to be a simple deal bust. He’d disarm the sellers and buyer, arrest them, and turn in the weapons to the authorities. The deal had almost been struck when the sellers shot the buyer. Peter knew he had to swoop in, even if the buyer was a bad person. He was horrifyingly outnumbered, tall and muscular mercenaries all surrounded him when he swung onto the sight. They all loaded their exotic weapons and opened fire on him. He’d manage to run away and hide just in time to figure out a plan to disarm them.

He was atop the tall lampposts in the darkness and slowly one by one he snatched away the weapons from them. What he hadn’t considered were the backup weapons they concealed on their bodies. As Peter fought them hand-to-hand, he started to tire out. He’d been fighting and jumping and running for the past three hours and it was the middle of the night. The amount of mercs seemed never ending and he was starting to slow down. His punches got softer and his movements became slower. By then, everyone but him had their smaller guns and knives out. Various bullets and knives grazed his skin but none of them lodged into him. Peter wasn’t one who used guns. He didn’t know how to use them and he didn’t want to. It was only when he realized that him and his webs stood no chance that he picked up a stray gun.

The smell of iron filled his nose as he looked around the lot. All of the mercs holding onto their limbs lodged into them, some unconscious. He thought that the fight was over, that he could go home, get some rest. Only when he heard the ringing in his ears and the tingling throughout his body did he realize what had happened to him. He turned around quickly and stopped the punch that was aimed straight at his face. He was gripping the other hand with his full force though, the one that lodged the crowbar deep into him. The ringing and tingling happened again but this time, it was amplified. He knocked out the merc before him and felt a bullet strike into him as he turned around. It seemed as the more he turned around, the more bullets there were.

He saw three mercs on the ground aiming their guns at him as they held onto their wounds, using their last breaths to kill a child who just wanted to do good. More and more bullets struck him as he ran away at an inhumane speed. The sound of guns shooting slowed as did his speed and breath. He ran to the closest lamppost he could find and he collapsed. That’s how he found himself in this position. Looking up, and seeing a familiar face.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter huffed out.

“Kid what did I tell you about chasing bad guys with guns? Now look at you, c’mon get up.” Tony scolded the injured boy.

All Peter could do was look up in disbelief. Blood was pooling out of the little holes all over his chest and back and more was coming out of his abdominal wound. It was a waterfall, and Peter was the small edge of the cliff that couldn’t handle any more of the weight. He groaned out in pain and threw his head back, hitting it quite hard.

“Leave me alone! You’re not real! You’re dead you’re dead you’re dead!” He yelled out as he attempted to curl up into a ball.

The crowbar was still very much deep in him, slicing more of his organs as he moved around. He held onto the bar and started to pull it out.

“Don’t do that! That’s the only thing that’s giving to a chance to stay alive. Now get up and start walking.” Tony’s voice rang in his ear again.

He looked back up at Tony, who was now reaching out his hand to Peter, and pulled himself up, gripping onto Tony’s hand. Tony kept Peter steady as he limped forward at a snails pace. He was dizzy at this point, his body felt lighter, and his vision was darkening. They walked towards the darkness, where the road was hiding behind and Peter felt his body getting lighter and lighter with each short step he took.

“I…it all hurts Mr. Stark…” he took more labored breaths while gripping onto the handle of the crowbar.

Tony could only look at the kid with compassion oozing out of his eyes when he started to speak again.

“Remember when you stopped that bank robbery?”

“Which time” Peter chuckled, even though it hurt every part of his body.

“You know what? I’m gonna ignore that and continue with what I was gonna say…” Tony chuckled too “…remember how mad I was?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t let me leave the apartment without telling you where I was and checking in every five minutes.”

“I couldn’t let you away from my attention for too long because every time I did, you’d get yourself into some trouble.

They giggled together and the memory of Peter getting scolded by Tony flooded his mind. It was as if he’d been transported to that moment. One moment he was walking in a dark parking lot and the next he was in the living room of the Avengers compound. The entire moment felt like a cutaway in a show. It all happens in the way he remembered.

He relived the scolding from Tony. “Do you know how stupid that was!? They had never seen before weapons! Ones I’ve never seen before! I swear you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day, kid.”

He relived Tony apologizing. He heard the soft knocks on his door and saw Tony walk in with a tight lipped smile. “Uh…I want to apologize..for the last night. Even though you’re young and semi new to the whole hero thing, you dearmed the robbers and turned them in to the authorities without hurting yourself or others. Good job..I guess.” He felt Tony’s awkward side hug along with it.

He relived receiving Tony’s apologetic gifts, even after he apologized. Tony’d given him a new and more advanced suit along with many little gadgets and gizmos, one of them being his little robot buddy A.P.R.I.L (Assistant Programed to Remember I Lived). “Look it was difficult to come up with an acronym okay? It’s to remind you that you lived through the robbery and that you can live through tougher things.”

“Feels like you need this more than me” Peter laughed.

They walked limped for another few steps before Tony spoke up again.

“Hey what was the name of that girl you were dating?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat “…uh MJ…” he hadn’t said her name in so long…

“Cute name, is it actually MJ though?”

Peter laughs at Tony’s comment, blood pooling out faster because of it.

“Well it’s Michelle Jones but she prefers MJ.”

They inched forward a few steps, Peter’s steps were starting to falter.

“I remember the day I asked to be her boyfriend—like officially.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

“Ned gave me a bunch of ideas like to make her an elaborate sign and a hundred different types of other odd things…”

“Dude you have to make it epic! You could to buy her a bouquet with a hundred count of her favorite flowers and each flower has a thing you like about her AND THEN you show her the light up sign asking her to be your girlfriend!” Ned rambled.

“Or…I could just take her out to a restaurant or cafe and ask her…?”

“Nah that’s lame! You see, girls love when you spoil them, you have to go all out!”

“So how’d you actually ask her out?”

“I was simple with it. I took her to this cafe slash book store and asked her over a drink.” Peter gave the best shoulder shrug he could at his state.

“So MJ…” Peter played with the page of the book he’d picked.

MJ looked up from her book and gave a questioning look at Peter. He could feel his pulse pick up and palms sweat when she looked up. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail—with the exception of her bangs—and he could’ve sworn she had a halo and wings appear once he looked at her. “I wanted to ask you something…” Peter started.

MJ takes the bookmark from its position beside the book and closes it between the pages. She slides it slightly off to her right and rests her head in her palm, waiting for him to continue. She gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever been given and all the words evaporated from his mind. “What is it Peter?”

Peter swallowed hard and started speaking, trying his best to not stutter. “Since we both like each other and have gone on several dates and stuff…may I be your boyfriend?” Peter takes her hand in his and smiles at her as she takes her time answering his question.

She taps her fingers to her chin and tilts it up slightly, acting as if she’s in deep thought. Her smile is wider than ever and Peter basically feels time stop seeing her. She lowers her head and stares him straight in the eyes, giggling. “Of course!”

He starts giggling with her and leans his head forward, snaking his other hand to cup her cheek. She too leans her head forward and closes her eyes in anticipation. It’s when his lips finally press to hers does Peter’s heart stop pounding so hard. They molded so perfectly together, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. It was slow and deep. No tongue, no lust, just deep yearning and pure love.

“I’m not sure where she is these days. I tried to talk to her after the whole multiverse fiasco with Mr. Strange but I chickened out when I got there…” Peter dropped his head at the painful memory.

“It’s okay Pete, it’s not your fault.” Tony rubbed his hands against Peter’s arm, feeling him get colder and colder.

Peter picked up his head and looked at Tony as he let his tears flow down his cheeks. Tony caressed the tears off his cheeks and gave him a side hug. “It’s okay, let your tears out.”

Peter was sobbing against Tony’s embrace. It hurt, physically and emotionally. He was so tired. He had no one left. May wasn’t there to comfort him anymore, neither was Ned, and neither was MJ. The last memory played in his mind at the thought of May. It was the day she and Happy had their first date.

May came out of her room in a beautiful soft yellow and pink dress a bit past her knees. Her hair was in a half up half down style with loose curls and she had her signature purse slung over her shoulder. “Wow May you’re so pretty!” Peter complimented as she walked over to the shoe closet by the front door.

May looked at Peter “Are you sure? It feels…” she made a circular motion in the air, referring to herself “…a little much.”

“Yes! Where are you going?”

“I…have a date.” May grinned as she got her sandals out of the closet.

“Ooo who’s the lucky fella?” Peter asked while wiggling his eyebrows and the brightest smile plastered on his face.

“Happy! You know, the chauffeur guy that you always hang out with?” Peter’s smile dropped.

“Wait you’re going on a date with HAPPY?”

“Yeah…what he’s nice, funny, and he’s got a charm to him!”

“What he’s literally always grumpy! Does not live up to his name!”

May chuckled at Peter’s disapproval as she walked towards him. She cupped both of his cheeks and smiled. “He’s a good man Peter. You just have to warm up to him.” With that, May squeezed his cheeks and shook his head from side to side.

He started laughing at her action and pulled off her hands from his cheeks. “Fine. But if he hurts you in any way, I am not afraid to hit my elders.” He half joked.

May laughed at his half full threat and lightly smacked his shoulder. She pulled him into a hug and he fell into her embrace with no hesitation, closing his eyes.

It’s only when he opened his eyes he’s facing cold harsh reality again. He can see the warm street lights ahead of him along with the few cars swooshing by. His knees are faltering at this point and Tony is long gone from his side. Maybe Tony was never there. Maybe his brain had tricked itself to imagine someone helping him to ease the pain of the loneliness in is last moments. Whether he was actually there or not, he was glad he got a proper last moment with the only father figure in his life. Peter limps two more feet before he collapses on the sidewalk. His knees fall onto the cold hard concrete and he finally pulls off his mask, breathing in the, not so fresh, New York City, air.

He leans forward and rests his left hand on the ground while gripping onto the crowbar with his other hand. His vision is blurred and he can feel his eyelids getting heavier. With all of the might he had left in his body, he pulls the crowbar out. The rest of whatever blood he had left in his body spills out with the crowbar no longer there to aid in stopping the bleeding. The crimson liquor coats the gloves of his suit, pooling out too quickly. The pain speeds throughout his body for the last time as his arms give out. He’s in a fetal position facing the ground, holding onto his wound.

Only when he is taking his last breaths does Peter Parker finally feel relaxed. He breathes in and out deeply as the sound of the world dissolves from his ears and he finally hears silence. He smiles his last smile and he accepts the warm welcome of death. Because it is only when he dies that he realizes that death isn’t a dark, hooded, skeleton with a scythe. It’s his mother, Mary “May” Parker, holding her arms wide open for him to fall into.

It’s said that in the last seven minute of someone’s life, their brain is active, going back through their memories. Peter is content knowing he saw his family for the last time before he died.

“Oh my god look!”

“What?”

“Is that Spider-Man?” the girl pointed at Peter’s corpse. They ran towards it, to get a closer look

“Holy shit it is!” The boy yelled.

“Shit look at him! There’s holes over his body!”

“What are you looking at Ned? Call the cops!”

“Jeez I’m already on it MJ, chill!”

A sense of familiarity washes over her as she pushes the body of the fallen hero to his side. She sees his expressionless face and she feels nostalgia prick at her brain like static. She taps her friend kneeling beside her. “Does he look familiar to you?”

Rooster’s tapping out ceremony

Bradley already had a bad feeling in his stomach before the ceremony had begun. He was graduating, stepping into his dad’s shoes. He’d looked forward to this day his entire life. Now, when it was actually happening, he couldn’t feel anything but emptiness. He’d lost his dad at five, his mom at sixteen, and he’d basically lost Mav the same day he lost his dad. That’s why, when he was standing in formation with his back pin straight and his hands behind his back, he knew not to get excited. He knew no one was coming to tap him out so what was the point?

Everyone he was graduating with was way younger than him. Ever since Mav pulled his papers, he’d held a deeper resentment for him. He didn’t understand, he was an excellent pilot, why did he pull his papers? Why did Mav keep ruining his life? First his dad and now his career?

Through his peripheral vision, he saw soldiers getting bouquets and little gifts and he felt more bitterness than he did annoyance. Their mothers tearing up at the sight of their kids and calling them sweet names like their “little soldier”. He felt a too familiar twist in his stomach at the nickname. His mother would always call him her little soldier anytime he’d do anything that’d remind her of his dad. The soldier in front of him was the son of a pilot, like him. His stomach twisted more when he saw the man give his son a bear hug. It was more of a tackle than a hug from his perspective.

He’d been so focused on what’s in front of him that he didn’t even see who was approaching him from his four o’clock. He felt a rough hand land of his shoulder and it took him a minute to break from the attention stance. He turned his to the left and saw Mav donning a somber smile.

“What are you doing here?” Bradley spoke with venom in his tone.

“What does it look like, kid?”

Bradley fully turns his body to face Pete with a stern face. The more he looks at Pete’s face, the more his face softens. He didn’t know how to feel, Pete was the whole reason he was behind on his career, why was he so happy to see him? Without even realizing it, Bradley hugged Pete with urgency that he didn’t even realize was holding him back. Pete stumbled back from the sudden force of the hug but returned the hug.

As he Bradley slowly peeled off him, he speaks again.

“Even though you’re the last person I want to see, I’m glad you’re here Mav.” The last part of Bradley’s sentence was more of a mumble but Pete still heard him loud and clear. That was the voice he’d so missed for so many years. Bradley let his head slightly hang trying to avoid eye contact.

Pete gave him a few taps on his shoulder before he spoke again. “That’s…that’s understandable. Do you wanna grab a beer in celebration…?”

All of the softness and endearment left Bradley’s body at Pete’s request.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Bradley inched away from Pete and left him standing by himself awkwardly.

He was so closer by the day to reconcile with the only family he had left, Pete could feel it.

— CANT HANDLE IT

You can’t bear to see Joaquín injured

Joaquín Torres x med student!gn!reader

wc: 1.1k

warnings: hurt no comfort, mentions of injuries, cursing, mention of finals (sigh)

authors note:My next fic is gonna be a cute lil Iron!dad and Spider!son one and it’s alr at 1.2k words at like the beginning of the climax so I can’t wait to share that too! (no promises that it won’t hurt feelings though) ENJOY! (I was gonna wait till Wednesday to post this but I got too excited💔💔)

You and Joaquín were stood adjacent to each other. Your glossy eyes only staring at the scars on his neck and shoulder. He was staring at you. You could feel it. His beautiful, warm, always held joy in them eyes filled with nothing but pain. He was just discharged from the hospital and was so excited to finally come home and feel your love in the comfort of his home. Instead he was faced with a cold shoulder and ignorance.

“What’s wrong, Angel?” He spoke softly.

You finally looked up at his face. You could really see the concern and slight pain in is face.

“What’s wrong? Are you kidding me?”

He just looked at you confused.

“You were dead for two whole minutes is what’s wrong!”

“It was only two minutes, I’m all better now. See?” He approached you slowly trying to hold your hands. You back away and snatched your hands off of his. His brows furrowed as his heart dropped. You’d never backed away from his touch let alone yelled at him.

“That’s not the point Joaquín! I can’t handle this anymore…” tears formed in your eyes “…the bruises, the cuts, the secrecy. I’ll go to sleep one night with you next to me and in the morning you’ll be gone! I don’t get a heads up, or a text, not even a damn letter!”

“Angel…”

“Don’t ’Angel’ me, Joaquín. All I ask is for a heads up or a warning. You go on these dangerous missions and you don’t even show back up until days, sometimes weeks, later!” Now your volume is starting to raise.

“You know I can’t tell you! If I tell you then the safety of the mission is at risk!” Now he’s starting to get frustrated too.

“Yeah that’s what you tell me every single fucking time! That shit isn’t going to work for you every time!”

“What does that mean?” He can’t believe what you’re implying. “You’re wearing that ring aren’t you? Why would I cheat if I proposed!”

“Who said I was talking about cheating?”

“Oh you know what you were saying.” He rests his hands on his hips and turns slightly away from you.

A moment passes before you speak again.

“You know I missed a final? I’d stayed up for three nights in a row studying for it and the call about you went off right as I started it.” Your tears are escaping faster and faster now.

Joaquín’s head turned to face you at your statement. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” He tried holding you, out of habit, but you backed away again. His heart was starting to hurt more and more.

“And make you bear that guilt at that state? You would’ve been dead permanently.” You let out a bitter chuckle.

“W-well maybe your professor would let you take it now! I’m sure you can send an email!”

“I got a zero. There’s no do-overs with this Joaquín! I’m sick of his lifestyle you have me living! I’m sick of you!” And that’s when his heart fully shattered.

“No you don’t mean that, you’re just tired, Amor…” he was crying now.

“I mean every word. I’ve lost hours and hours of sleep worrying about you, I’ve missed too many deadlines because you decide to get hurt and come home for me to fix you, and you want me to be okay with you being an Avenger?!”

He was stunned at your last statement. When Sam had made him an Avenger you were the first person he told. You smiled so hard and squeezed him so tight, people would’ve thought he achieved world peace if they saw the two of you. The two of you had went out the fanciest restaurant and you’d bought him dinner (much to his objection). You’d made it seem like you were over the Moon. He was so confused.

“What do you mean? I thought you were happy about me being an Avenger?”

“Being an Avenger is what killed Tony Stark and left his wife widowed! Along with that robot and Black Widow! I don’t want to be the next Avenger widow!”

He was honestly just hurt you didn’t have more faith in him and his abilities.

“What you think I’m not strong enough to be an Avenger?”

“Tell me how you plan to fight a genocidal alien or robot, how about an evil god from outer space with your guns and a jet pack with wings!”

You were hyperventilating at this point and the walls seemed like they were closing in on you. You could see Joaquín’s stiff figure also crying through your tears. None of you spoke a word for bit after your sentence.

“Here take this” you snatched the beautiful ring that adorned your ring finger and shoved it on his chest. He held his hand over your hand that pressed into his chest. “Wait no please…” He begged while wrapping his other hand around your arm and held you in place.

“Don’t leave. I’ll tell Sam I changed my mind! I’ll never put the wings back on! Just please don’t do this!” He yelled out through his heavy sobs.

“That’s our problem Joaquín! This! Your job is so important, not just that, it’s your dream! I can’t hold you back from doing what you love and you can’t hold me back either! People need you, the world needs you! You can’t hold me in front of the world…” and that’s when you snatch away your hand and walk to your shared room with Joaquín.

You grabbed your two suitcases and bag that you had asked your friend to pack for you and made your way to the front door. Joaquín followed you the entire time, begging you to not do this. You just ignored him and grabbed the door handle. As you were twisting the door handle Joaquín speaks for the last time.

“You are my world. How am I supposed to save billions of random people if I can’t save us?”

You turn back and see that his eyes are red and starting to puff.

“Maybe when you finally learn that you’re not indestructible and that you’re human like the rest of us.”

You twisted the door open and walked out, shutting it gently behind you. You could hear Joaquín’s from behind the door and your heart broke at the sound of it.

You didn’t know if you’d ever make up, but you were sure as hell that you would never find a love as pure or strong as Joaquín’s. Maybe you’d reconcile one day, if he doesn’t get killed.

Hangman’s tapping out ceremony

warning: bad parents

Jake stood tall under the blazing California Sun with his back as straight as can be. He could feel the beads of sweat fall down his forehead and back as he waited to be tapped out. His head was held high and he was so excited. Not only was he graduating from the Naval Academy, his dad had promised to be there. His relationship with his dad was far from perfect but it seemed to be getting better as time went on. When Jake was younger, he’d always wake up before Jake and get home after he was tucked into bed, the only time Jake did see him was during holidays.

He kept his eyes staring right ahead but the urge to shift them around to search the face he’d yearned to see for so long was clawing away at him. He saw the person in front of him get tapped out. They had what seemed like their parents, grandparents, and siblings there. He saw as the presumed father gave the soldier the biggest and tightest hug and how the soldier melted into his father’s arms. Jake couldn’t wait until his father came and did the same thing. He wondered, would his sisters and mother cry at the sight of him? Would his dad give him a hug that loving?

He watched as more and more soldiers walked away with their families and friends. There were only and handful of people left and he could see more families approaching from the corner of his eyes. He listened as the soldiers next to him reconnected with their families. The sobs of their mothers and the encouragement of their fathers.

It was when the only people that left were ones tens of feet away from him did he realize that his family was not coming. He felt the tears well up in his eyes and he desperately tried to blink them away. Through his tears, he saw one more family approach and tap out a soldier ten feet ahead of him. His tears flowed down his face as he choked back his sobs. It wasn’t anything new for his father to not show up but not even his sisters? He tried to make excuses for them in his mind but the thought of them only made the tears flow faster. That’s when he saw a familiar face. Was that…Javy?

He watched as Javy and his family walked his direction and he opened his arms wide to Jake. Finally, he felt a big and tight hug. As embarrassed as he was to do so, Jake sobbed into Javys arms. He basically turned into a puddle feeling a hug. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his back, a softer and smaller pair. He could only assume it was either Javy’s mom or sister.

“Thank you” Jake forced out through his sobs.

“Anytime man. Welcome to the Machado family.”

— NO NEED TO BE DRUNK

it was never about how drunk you were

pt.2 to stay for breakfast but can be read as a standalone

pairing: Joaquín x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

authors note: wrote basically the entire thing in one whole night…domestic Joaquín save me 💔💔 also I need to start posting in a timely manner…why is it midnight right now 😞😞 LAST THING don’t mind the format change, I write and edit on my notes app THEN copy and paste onto here and I js got too lazy to make the font smaller and space it out 💀💀

You wake up to warm rays of Sunlight kissing your face and a heavy arm holding you close. You bask in the comfort of the situation, disregarding the pounding in your head. The last thing you remembered from your night out was asking Joaquín to stay the night, remembering you’d promised him breakfast. You slip his muscular arm off your body and slither out of bed. As you stretch, you notice the pills and water on your night stand. “Joaquín you old softy.” You grin to yourself as you gulp down the pills.

You’re flipping the last pancake when the sound of the floor creaking makes you look up from your stove.

“Rise and shine sleepy bird.”

“Good morning to you too, Angel.”

He inches closer to where you stand at the stove, leaning next to you. That’s when you take a look at him. His hair is disheveled, his face is lightly puffy (making him look sooo much cuter), and…he’s…shirtless..? You can’t help but glance down his body. His abs may be attractive but it’s his moles that really grab your attention. They looked like mini chocolate chips on his tan skin…

“Angel, the pancake is burning.” Joaquín takes the flipper from your hand and flips the pancake himself.

“Don’t worry I’ll take that one…” he notices you’re still staring “…you okay..?”

“Huh? Oh uh yeah. My head is killing me.” You rub your forehead.

“Well you quite an eventful night, and also, you did not have to make all this food.” He takes the mildly burnt pancake and plops it on a plate.

He slides your plate to you after adding all the toppings you loved. “C’mere, Angel.” He beckons you over with his arms wide open.

You melt in his strong hold, his scent filling your nose, you almost never want to pull away. He rubs his hand over your back in a circular motion while the other holds your waist tight. Your mind stops all the noise and commotion and falls silent in his touch. He creeps his hand up into your scalp and scratches the back of your head softly. You breathe out a sigh into the crook of his neck and he giggles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just ticklish.”

“Just your neck or anywhere else?” You two are now bobbing side to side softly to the tune of only your affection.

“Nowhere you need to know nosey pants.”

His hand stays massaging your head as you bury your head back onto him. This all felt so…perfect. The sunny morning, yummy breakfast, your crush holding you, maybe you were still under your drunken dream. You slide your arms from your side to his waist. He flinches away at your touch fully giggling now.

“Oh my god! How ticklish are you?!” You laugh out.

“I told you! Now c’mon, breakfast is getting cold.”

He pulls a chair out and looks at you. You struggle to dilute your smile as you walk back over to him. Once you’re sat comfortably in your seat, he brings over your plates from the counter and over to the dinner table. Once sat, he looks at you, waiting for you.

“What.”

“Nothing, just waiting for you to eat first.”

You chuckle “Why?”

“I mean…you cooked it all, you deserve first bites.”

You just smile at him as you eat a piece of your pancake. Once you take the first bite, Joaquín digs in like he’s never been fed before. He barely chews his food, basically just inhaling it. You can only sit bewildered as you eat. “Sam not feed you or something?” You joke, cutting the last bits of your first pancake.

“Not food this good. It’s all granola bars and sad salads. Sometimes, Bucky will bring him lunch and he’ll tell me to take some but…” all he has left is the last piece of bacon “…it’s all even more depressing forties food.” You let out an amused laugh.

He looks at you so happily. He’d made you giggle and whatnot before but never laugh this hard. He’s basically beaming at this point and starts to laugh with you. The laughter only dies down when you transition back to eating your breakfast and silence falls on the two of you. You don’t mind though, you’re both thinking, maybe about the same things, maybe not. You can’t stop thinking about his touch. So gentle yet so firm. The way he comforted you without even having to be asked. God he’d be such a perfect boyfriend.

Joaquín on the other hand was still thinking about your laugh. Your eyes squinting into cute little crescents and your bright smile emitting light from how bright it was. The sound of your laugh, he would listen to it all day if he could. Without even realizing it, you’re both staring at each other. It’s almost as if time froze, you both basically have heart eyes beating out of your eye sockets for each other. It’s the sound of a grating squeaking that snaps you two back to Earth. You’d sliced through your pancake and were basically about to slice through your plate. You two can’t help but laugh again at the whole situation.

“You know what? I was full anyway.” You stand and throw your scraps into the trash.

Only when you stand before the sink Joaquín stops you.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You at him and then the sink full of dishes “…the dishes…?”

“Not after you cooked it too.”

“No that’s exactly why actually, also you’re my guest, it’s my job.”

“No it’s fine, I’m basically here every weekend anyway. If anything, I’m a regular.”

“Okay how about we compromise hm? You wash and I’ll dry? Sound like a fair trade, cutie?”

It takes a few seconds for him to reply “Fine.”

You two work together like a machine. He scrubs and rinses, you dry and stow. The air is filled with the hiss of the sink and the squeak coming from the towel on the plate.

“Hey thanks for taking care of me last night, I know I can be a difficult drunk.” You break the silence after putting away the last pan.

“Ah it was no big deal, plus you’re kind of cute when you’re drunk.”

“I didn’t talk about any conspiracy theories did I?”

“He’s totally like watching over us from the Moon!” He mocks your voice.

You can’t do anything but slap his shoulder and act annoyed. It’s him grabbing your arms and wrapping them around his neck that makes you break your act. His arms hug your waist tight and he seems as surprised that he did this as you are. “You know…it uh…it kind of felt like a…d…date…” you just stare at him, dumbfounded. “…in a sense…not just last night but…also now…?” The last part felt more like a question than a statement.

“What are you getting at Joaquín?”

“Do you wanna date?”

Your eyes widen.

“No no like go on a date. We can date after! Or after a few dates! Or not at all! I don’t know, it’s all really up to yo-“

Only when you press your lips against his does he stop talking. It’s not a long kiss, just enough to serve the both of you for now. You pull away and his face goes towards yours like a magnet. Now it was your turn to slightly scratched back of his head.

“Yes Joaquín, I’ll go on a date with you. We can only talk about the actual dating part if you can take me to some really fun dates though.” You smile.

“I can do that.” Then he crashes his lips to yours.

Now it’s deeper, more intimate. He lowers his left hand lower down your back and his right hand higher up. He feels your embrace so warm and soft against him, he needs to be closer. He pushes you further against him, deepening the kiss. You respond by grabbing a handful of his hair and gently tugging at his soft curls. He groans against your lips and you can feel your pulse quickening. It’s only when you start to lose your breath you pull away. He reluctantly pulls back too and has the cutest hazy look on his face.

“I should get drunk more often so you can always kiss me like this.”

“Trust me, Angel. You never needed to be drunk for me to kiss you.”

You giggled and pulled him into a hug.

You should’ve done this way earlier.

— STAY FOR BREAKFAST

You enjoy his company for a bit longer

pairing: Joaquín x fem!reader

pt.2 here

wc: 1.4k

warning: mentions of alcohol, watching people while they sleep (?), reader is wearing a skirt and a baby tee of some sort.

authors note: I literally JUST finished this fic like ten minutes ago after holding off on it for like two months…she’s here now so yay! I’ve read all the new Joaquín fics so that really gave me a motivation to finish this…BUT honestly if yall want (if YALL want) I have an idea for a part two so if you’d like more then please comment so!!

The sound of banter fills your ears as Sam and Bucky start with their quips once more. You and Joaquín sat next to each other giggling at their antics, the alcohol in your blood streams amplifying the humor. You slowly start to calm your breath once more but one quick glance at Joaquín and you start to giggle again.

“I’m just saying, it’s kind of stupid that you always rip your sleeve off! What if someone asks to borrow your jacket one day? What you’re just gonna let them walk around with their bare left arm out?”

“It’s more practical! I can move it better without the sleeve!”

“What kind of clothes do you wear that makes it uncomfortable for you to move your arm!”

“There are some you know.”

“What you buy clothes made out of latex or something?”

You keep laughing.

“What do you guys think? Is it stupid or not?” Sam asks you and Joaquín.

“Uh…I mean I don’t think it’s stupid but it is kinda silly you know. Imagine you get into a fight on a mundane day and you go; “Hold up guys my sleeve is on too tight!” You reply, sipping your beer after letting out an airy chuckle after doing so.

“Whatever.” Bucky say rolling his eyes and taking a sip from his beer.

“C’mon man we’re just messing with you! We love you no matter the amount of sleeves you’ve got! Ain’t that right guys?”

“Yeah!” You and Joaquín reply simultaneously.

“Uh huh.” Bucky says while finishing his drink.

“Aw don’t be grumpy, Buck. What if I brought the next round? Hm?” You say poking him lightly.

“Nah I have to leave, it’s getting late.” Bucky replied getting up.

“Sam?”

“Ah I have to go too, early mission tomorrow.” Sam said, getting up and leaving with Bucky.

“Guess it’s just us now, Joaquín.” You smiled clinking your beer bottles together.

“Guess so.” He replied giving you a bright smile.

You both then moved to the bar after finishing your drinks quickly to make space for other guests entering as the night deepened. You and Joaquín spent the rest of the night talking and drinking without a care in the world. Except you drank a few drinks too many so now drunk you was rambling on and on to barely tipsy Joaquín about anything and everything.

“No that theory is so stupid! There’s no way Steve Rogers would ever actually leave his best friends. And for what? To time travel and live a whole different life with an already married woman? While knowing bad things are happening? Pfff he’s totally like watching over us from the Moon!” You blather.

“Conspiracy theories, especially about our friends’ friend, is our sign to leave. C’mon, Angel.” Joaquín slightly jokes while closing out your guys’ tab.

He takes your hand in his and makes it rest on his shoulder as he grabs your waist. He guides you out of the somewhat busy bar, dodging the drunk men and dancing women and pushes the door out of the bar open and the chilly air immediately flys against your skin. The cold doesn’t affect you much with the alcohol still freshly in your stream, but, it does seem to affect Joaquín. You hear him suck a sharp breath in and feel him shiver slightly against you. Still, disregarding his discomfort in the cold, he takes is jacket off and puts it over your shoulders.

“Mm don’t need to give it to me Joaquín. You clearly need it more than me.” You slur out while taking it off your shoulders.

“You’re in a skirt and oddly tiny shirt, how are you not cold?” He says while opening the passenger side door for you.

“Alcohol tends to keep you warm.” You mumble out before Joaquín chuckles and closes the door.

He finally sits in the driver seat and starts the engine, he waits a beat for the car to heat up a bit more before typing in your address to the gps and backing out of the parking lot.

The drive back to your house is quiet, the only source of sound being your snores hanging in the air and Joaquin’s hums. Joaquín hums to himself out of habit and turns his head to look at you at a red light. Your hair is a bit array with loose strands covering your face, your lips parted with your drunk snores escaping them, and your head leaning back on the area where the head rests base lays. He chuckles at himself when he sees the sight beside him, finding you absolutely endearing, he only gets pulled out of the trance you pulled him into when the light changes to a blinding green before him.

He accelerated carefully, hoping to not interrupt your sleep not realizing he was already almost in your neighborhood. The gps lets him know that he’d arrived at his destination as he drove closer and closer to your house. He pulls into your driveway and sits there for a moment, finally fully taking your beauty in, with no interruptions. At that moment he’d realized, you weren’t wearing a single ounce of makeup. Your face looked bare, the same face he’d spar with in the evenings, the same face he’d plan missions with late at night, and the same face he was absolutely in love with. He’d had feelings for you since the day Bucky’d introduced you as a new recruit to him and Sam. You were so charismatic and charming and so incredibly funny that he couldn’t help but fall for you. Ever since, he just let his crush on you simmer, scared of scaring you away with his feelings and ruining your friendship

He reluctantly teared his gaze off of you and got out of his car and made his way over to your front door. He got out your extra key from underneath your porch swing cushion and opened your front door. He then makes his way back to the car and picks you up bridal style, slamming the car door closed with his hip. He carries you through your door, into your house, and makes his way up to your room. He’d came over a few times, for game nights and mission debriefs alike, and you’d given him a house tour at some point.

He opened up your bedroom door, greeted with clothes leaking out of your closet (from changing your outfit so much). He grinned seeing the sight of it, slightly endearing him. It all felt so domestic. He imagined what it’d be like, watching you do your makeup, cuddling during the cold nights like this, cooking together, being domestic with him. Only when you let out anther soft snore is when he stops staring. He sits you up on your bed gently, waking you up.

“Where are we?” You mumble groggily.

“Back at your place, Angel.”

“Mmm” Is all you force out while hugging his waist, the side of your face pressing against his abs.

“Why don’t you change and drink some water hmm? That’ll make you feel better.”

At his words you remove your arms from around him and get up slowly. You stumble on your feet a little, alcohol still kicking in your system. Joaquín catches you as you stumble, his hands falling to your waist out of instinct.

“Woah whatcha tryna do there.” He says, still holding you.

“Getting my pjs dummy.”

“Okay sit down…” he guides you back down on the bed “now where are your pjs…?” He looks around the room.

“Top of the dresser.”

He steps over and picks up the silly yellow and white striped sleep shorts and shirt atop your dresser. He looks over at you as your eyes struggle to stay open, feeling like there’s weights attached to them. “Here, I’ll get you some water and pain killers.” All you can do is nod lazily.

By the time he’s back with what you need, you’re knocked out in bed. He can hear the same snores you let out in the car resume but somehow, you look much more beautiful now. He softly walks over to your bedside table and rests the Advil and water bottle on it. He analyzes your chest moving up and down so calmly and he feels another smile creep up his face.

“Goodnight, Angel.” He presses a soft kiss on your temple. As he’s rising back up, he feels a force holding him in place.

“Stay for breakfast.” Is all you let out, your eyes still closed.

If you ask so politely, how can he deny you?

Played the hot ones card game tonight and I understand why Danny was in tears, my throat and mouth was literally on fire 💔💔

- PHOTOGRAPH

you can’t sleep

pairing: Joaquín x gn!reader

wc: idk somewhere in the 500 range maybe

authors note: chat I need to move to D.C. like rn!!! I went there once like two years ago almost and I still think about it💔💔 also why does no one talk about how difficult it is to find bf material pics of Danny 😞😞

“Babe I can’t fall asleep”, you mumbled in a low tone to your boyfriend sleeping right next to you.

Joaquín had just came back from a “long day of training” so he was out, but a part of you was still hoping maybe he’d wake up and talk to you or something of that sort. Instead, he just hummed lowly and went back to sleep. You tossed and turned for another fifteen minutes trying to find the best position. You took the blanket completely off you, took all of the blanket, even pushed Joaquín all the way to the edge of the bed trying to fall asleep. Eventually, you give up trying and got up to go get a glass of water and some fresh air.

You slowly rolled out of bed and lightly patted your feet across your cold floor and walked out of your shared room. You cracked the door open enough to fit you and slipped out as quiet as you could. You looked out the large glass sliding door which let in the dim Moonlight and walked to your cupboard. You got out your favorite mug and turned to your sink and twisted handle to the cooler side and filled up your mug with the cold water.

You took a quick sip before you walked over to the corner of your couch and slipped your slippers on and went out to the balcony of your and Joaquín’s shared apartment. You took in the view for a bit, then and sat on the lounging chair and set your mug on the coffee table not too far from you. As you sat on the chair with your legs crossed and overlooking the D.C skyline, you heard the glass door slide open behind you. You turned around already knowing who it would be ,and still grinned seeing Joaquín’s tired frame standing against the sliding door.

“Anything on your mind?” he questioned as he took a seat on the second chair.

“Not that I can think of. I just can’t fall asleep for some reason”, you replied.

“Are you sure? You’ve been sorta antsy lately.”

You opened your mouth to speak but quieted down once you realized what your problem was. It’d been six months since his accident, there were still remnants of his burns sitting on his neck, chest, and back. You remember feeling nothing but absolute horror when the hospital called you about his injuries. For nights you couldn’t sleep without nightmares haunting you. Ones where he’d died on the table and after moving on from his death, his ghost would guilt you. Ones where he’d been left permanently injured and in a coma for the rest of his life. They all plagued you like the Black Death, you just couldn’t seem to escape the horr-

“Hellooo? You with me, Angel?” Joaquín pulls you out of your trance.

“C’mon talk to me. What’s bugging you?” He speaks in a gentle tone, scooping you up in the lounging chair so he could sit next to you. Your legs draped over his as you rested your back on the arm rest.

“I…I think it’s because of your accident. I remember, back at the hospital and even when you first returned back home, I’d have these horrible horrible nightmares where you’d be stuck in a coma for the rest of your life or died on the table…” your eyes started to water.

“Hey hey hey look at me, baby.” Joaquín tilts your head up. “I’m fine now , it’s okay. I survived, I’m alright.” He embraced you in his warm and strong arms.

“Your heart stoped Joaquín! They had to restart it!” You sobbed into his chest.

He held you in his arms until all of your tears were spent and your breath was stable. You closed your eyes, really soaking in his presence and love. His heartbeat echoing in your ears letting you know that he’s still here, his heartbeat beating for you.

“You checking to see if it’s still pumping? Trust me baby, you’re the only one it beats for.”

You lightly giggled and hummed in response, feeling the warm fall breeze against your skin. You removed yourself from him and now rested your back on the back rest. Your eyes were starting to get heavy when you saw Joaquín move out of the corner of your eye. He slowly took out his phone and angled it towards you.

“What are you doing?” you questioned squinting your eyes.

“Oh you’re still awake. Uh I was just uh you know, taking a picture of the night sky yeah, the…the…moon looks amazing tonight ”, Joaquín quickly stumbled out his words, trying to cover up the fact that he was, indeed, taking a picture of you.

“Whatever you say, cutie.” You say crossing your arms and closing your eyes again.

“Mm I love you, Angel.” You smile softly and hear a shutter come from his phone.

“Damn you look good!” And with that, you can’t help but let out a laugh.

I’d just like to bring this back up cus lowkey I still think about it 💔💔

I KNOW THATS RIGHT, JOAQUÍN COME THROUGHHH 🗣️🗣️

I didn’t know I needed to celebrate Holi with Joaquin until rn 💔💔

Color Me Yours~ J.T.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Desi!Fem!reader

Summary: Joaquin Torres has never been to a Holi festival before, but when his girlfriend invites him to celebrate with her, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes. What follows is an explosion of color, playful teasing, and a day he’ll never forget—mostly because he ends up covered in more color than anyone else.

—————————————————————————

Joaquin had absolutely no idea what to expect when Y/N told him they were taking him to a Holi festival. He’d heard of it before, sure—something about colors and celebration—but that was about it.

“So, you just throw colors at people?” he asked as Y/N led him through the crowded festival grounds, her hand securely in his. The air was already thick with clouds of pink, blue, and yellow, and excited laughter filled the air as people ran around, tossing powdered colors at one another.

“It’s a little more than that,” Y/N said with a laugh, reaching into a small pouch filled with powdered color. “It’s about celebrating love, new beginnings, and the arrival of spring. But yes, the main goal is to throw colors at people.” Joaquin grinned. “Sounds like my kind of party.”

Before he could say another word, Y/N flicked her fingers, sending a puff of bright pink powder straight at his face. Joaquin coughed, his eyes going wide as he wiped at his cheek. “Oh, so we’re starting like that, huh?”

“You looked too clean,” Y/N said innocently, already backing away. “Oh, you’re so in trouble.” Joaquin didn’t waste a second. Grabbing a handful of blue powder from a nearby table, he lunged forward, smearing it across Y/N’s cheek with a triumphant laugh. Y/N let out a playful shriek, ducking away before grabbing a handful of yellow powder and tossing it right at his chest.

And just like that, all bets were off.

⸻

Within minutes, the two of them were fully engaged in a playful battle, running through the festival as they ambushed each other with handfuls of color. Joaquin quickly realized that Y/N was much more experienced at this than he was, dodging with expert precision while simultaneously getting bright streaks of color across his arms, his hoodie, and his hair.

“Okay, wait—truce, truce!” Joaquin called, laughing as he raised his hands in surrender. He was already covered head to toe in a chaotic mix of pinks, purples, and yellows.

Y/N, who was significantly less messy thanks to her superior dodging skills, tilted her head. “Truce?” Joaquin nodded solemnly. “Yeah, yeah. I just need a second to—” He moved fast, swiping a massive handful of red powder across Y/N’s face before they could react.

Y/N gasped, staring at him in betrayal. “You liar!” Joaquin cackled, taking a step back. “Hey, all’s fair in love and Holi.” Y/N lunged at him, smearing even more color into his already ruined shirt. “I can’t believe I brought you here! You’re a menace!”

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me,” he said smugly, wrapping his arms around them before they could escape. “Also, you smell like flowers and chaos. It’s a good combo.” Y/N rolled her eyes but leaned into him. “You, on the other hand, smell like sweat and bad decisions.”

“Aw, babe,” he said dramatically, pressing a messy, colorful kiss to her forehead. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” They stood there for a moment, surrounded by music, laughter, and bursts of color filling the air. Joaquin tightened his arms around Y/N, pressing his forehead against hers. “This is amazing,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Thank you for bringing me.”

Y/N smiled up at him. “I told you you’d love it.” He grinned. “Yeah, but I think I love you more.” Y/N pretended to gasp. “Did Joaquin Torres just admit he loves something more than a new adventure?”Joaquin chuckled, nudging her nose with his. “Maybe. But don’t let it go to your head.”

Y/N smirked. “Too late.” As another cloud of color burst into the sky above them, Joaquin pulled Y/N into a kiss, not caring in the slightest that they were both covered in a ridiculous mess of powder. Holi was a celebration of love, and at that moment, he knew there was no one else he’d rather celebrate it with.

——————

After their playful color battle, the festival’s energy shifted as the music swelled, filling the air with the infectious beats of classic Holi-themed Bollywood songs. Joaquin was still dusting powder off his clothes when Y/N turned to him with a mischievous grin. “You ready for the next part?” She asked. Joaquin raised an eyebrow. “There’s more?”

“Oh, so much more,” Y/N said, already bouncing on their feet as the opening beats of Balam Pichkari blasted through the speakers. “Now it’s time to dance.” Joaquin chuckled, running a hand through his already colorful hair. “Okay, I can dance. What’s the catch?” Y/N grabbed his hands, pulling him closer. “Bollywood dance moves, babe. Time to see if you can keep up.”

“Oh, I know I can keep up,” Joaquin said, ever the confident one. Y/N smirked, stepping back as she demonstrated the first move—rolling her shoulders and flicking her wrists outward in that classic, effortless Holi-dance style. It was playful, energetic, and completely in sync with the music.

Joaquin furrowed his brows as he tried to copy it. His first attempt was… questionable. He rolled his shoulders too stiffly and flicked his wrists in a way that made him look more like he was swatting a fly than dancing. Y/N burst into laughter. “What was that?”

“I was going for style points,” Joaquin defended, now grinning. “That was my interpretation of Bollywood.”

“Oh, no. No interpretations,” Y/N teased, stepping behind him. “Here, let me help.” She placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, guiding him through the movement again, making him relax into the rhythm. “Shoulders looser. Flick your wrists with confidence. And—” she stepped beside him, spinning playfully, “—you gotta feel the beat.”

Joaquin tried again, this time exaggerating his moves even more, which only resulted in him looking like a wild octopus caught in a dance-off. Y/N doubled over laughing. “Oh my god, Torres.”Joaquin huffed in mock offense. “Listen, I might not be Bollywood-ready yet, but you gotta admit, I have enthusiasm.”

“I’ll give you that,” Y/N said, still giggling. Determined to get it right, Joaquin grabbed Y/N’s hands and spun her dramatically before attempting a hip shake that was definitely not part of the choreography. “Joaquin, that’s not—” Y/N started, but they were laughing too hard to finish the sentence. He smirked. “I’m making it my own.”

Just then, Jai Jai Shivshankar started playing, and the crowd around them erupted into cheers, everyone joining in on the dance floor. Y/N turned to Joaquin, her dark brown eyes twinkling. “Okay, you’re getting thrown into the deep end now,” she teased.

“Oh, bring it on,” Joaquin said, standing tall. Y/N guided him through the steps—shoulders loose, arms sweeping out, a playful bounce in her feet. After a few rounds of exaggerated attempts, Joaquin finally started getting the hang of it, moving in sync with Y/N as the song picked up speed.

As they twirled, tossed more colors in the air, and got swept up in the festive energy, Joaquin realized something—this wasn’t just about dancing. It was about joy, about feeling free, about experiencing something so purely happy with the person he loved.

“You know,” he said breathlessly as the song reached its climax, “I think I might be crushing this.” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s bold talk for someone who just tried to moonwalk to a Bollywood song.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Absolutely not.” Joaquin laughed, spinning Y/N one last time before pulling her close. Their faces were both covered in powder, their clothes a complete mess, and yet—this moment, here, with the music, the colors, the warmth of Y/N’s arms—it felt like the most beautiful chaos. “You’re the best,” Joaquin murmured against their forehead. “This was amazing.”

Y/N smiled up at him. “Told you you’d love Holi.” And with another burst of color flying through the air, Joaquin realized that Holi was more than just a festival. It was them. It was laughter, love, and the best kind of mess—a mess he never wanted to clean up.

—————

Later that day…

Joaquin groaned dramatically as he stood in front of the mirror back at Y/N’s place. His entire face had a faint blue tint, his hair streaked with pink and yellow.

“Okay, but seriously,” he called out to Y/N, who was in the bathroom scrubbing her own hands clean, “How do I still look like a human rainbow after two showers?” Y/N peeked her head out, biting back a laugh. “Oh, yeah… I forgot to tell you—blues and greens stick for a while.”

Joaquin turned, horrified. “You forgot to tell me?” Y/N smirked, walking up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t worry, babe. You’ll look normal in, like, three days.”

“Three days?!” Joaquin looked back at the mirror, groaning dramatically. “Sam and Bucky are never letting me live this down.”

Y/N grinned. “It’s a good look on you, babe.” Joaquin sighed dramatically before pulling Y/N into a loose hug, smearing more color on her in the process. “If I have to suffer, so do you.” Joaquin gave them a look before grabbing a leftover bit of pink powder from the counter and dabbing it right onto Y/N’s nose.

Y/N gasped. “You did not—” Joaquin grinned. “Oh, I absolutely did.” Y/N shook her head, sighing in fake exasperation. “You are such a menace.” Joaquin wrapped his arms around her, swaying slightly. “Yeah, but I’m your menace.”

And as Y/N laughed, pressing her forehead to his, Joaquin knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. And as Y/N laughed in protest, Joaquin decided that Holi was now his new favorite holiday—color stains and all.