#swat connor

[connorgavinarmy]

"Connor is a polite, people-pleasing, poor little puppy"? Hmm...

I've been assigned this mission, Lieutenant. I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working.

Listen, asshole. If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty.

...This is the most "polite" option for this scene (the others being asking Hank to resign from the case, or straight-up threatening him). 😂 I'm rather curious what would have happened if Chris hadn't come in time to inform Hank about the AX400 sighting. My take is... Yes, he's polite. Yes, he tries to be pleasant. But he ain't a poor little puppy. Despite the puppy eyes which he uses as a weapon. I would think that "kindness" is at Connor's core, seen in how he has the option to save Dewey and pet Sumo (kindness towards animals who can't give back to his mission). And he's canonically able to say appreciative things to Hank "outside of his programming". So his kind and polite demeanour is not just his Social Relations Programme running. At the same time, he can weaponise his kindness too, like during the interrogation, or when he reminded Hank about the drink he bought to bargain for more time. Get in the way of his mission? Man's gonna push you 'til you move, no matter what. Including slapping your drunkass face and ruthlessly pouring cold water on you to sober you up.

📷 (c) ClancySPCS

[asukaindetroit]

And today in my random DBH headcanons, Captain Allen. In every iteration where Connor succeeds with the first mission, that man looks like he is blown away by how efficient Connor is at containing a hostage situation. And probably seeing the possibilities for putting androids in the line of fire—he's pretty pissed about his men dying, rightfully so. I bet he went right the heck back to CyberLife the next morning and put Detroit SWAT on a waitlist for a half dozen of these fancy new RK800 units (or the RK900) the minute they hit the market. That man wants an army of Connors to throw at his problems. He's upset if Machine Connor chooses to jump to escape him because he's like, "dang, we could have reset and used that one, now it's a scrap heap." Post-revolution, he's probably beside himself with the lack of available Connors for sale. I imagine him spending all his spare time trying to poach Connor or Nines from Fowler. Half the reason it's so easy to believe Sixty joined SWAT (if you choose to resurrect him in your AU) is because Allen very probably wants to hoard RK800s like some kind of kevlar-padded dragon. He'd take them all. He thinks they're wasted on being detectives when they're one-android SWAT teams. Edit: And if you want to read a random dialogue snippet of Allen trying to poach Nines while Gavin throws a hissy fit, enjoy.

[mercilessflowchart]

The fish aren't the ones being held hostage here, Connor...

[klutzyghost13]

I'm Not Confused.

**FREE TO USE**

.

Nick Nelson - Heartstopper

Jackson Whittemore - Teen Wolf

Lucifer Morningstar - Lucifer

Angela Montenegro - Bones

Magnus Bane - Shadowhunters

Clarke Griffin - The 100

Christina Alonso (Officer III) - S.W.A.T.

Michael Guerin - Roswell, New Mexico

Oberyn Martell - Game Of Thrones

Evan "Buck" Buckley - 9-1-1

Malakai Mitchell - Heartbreak High

Eretria - The Shannara Chronicles

Nathan - The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself

Jeremiah Fisher - The Summer I Turned Pretty

[c0nstantinez]

Hello,🤗

could you please help by reblogging a post about my fundraising campaign to support my family ?

Find it in my pinned post🙏

Your assistance (donations or reblogging) would mean a lot.🙏🙏

Thanks You🌷❤️

Hi yes of course!!! Y’all go support Ahmed and his family here!

[alisbackalleybbq]

Dominque Luca, don’t you dare go after Ava Bekker! Look what she did to Conner’s dad!

[unstablerk800]

@illbringthechaosmagic

LAWD 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

@kassiekolchek22 I LOVE MODS

[demie90s]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐢𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Caitlin Clark x You ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ MASTERLIST MORE

1/5 Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

⭑ pairing: Caitlin Clark x cocky!UConn!player!reader

⭑ genre: sports rivalry, tension, slow-burn flirtation

⭑ summary: You’re UConn’s rising star. Caitlin’s already a legend. Too bad she has a boyfriend… not that it matters to you.

⭑ warnings: light swearing, sexual tension, implied cheating

⭑ word count: ~0.9k

———————————————————————————————

The lights in the arena are searing. The crowd’s loud enough to rattle ribs, but it doesn’t touch you. You’re calm. Locked in. This ain’t your first rodeo—it’s just your first one against her.

You roll your neck as you step onto the court, your sneakers biting into the hardwood. All around you, noise. But right in front of you, Caitlin Clark. Eyes sharp. Ponytail tight. Jersey tucked to perfection. She stands with her hands on her hips, gaze already pinned to you like you did something personal.

Which, technically? You haven’t. Yet.

Your lips curl just enough. Not a smile—more like a warning. She clocks it.

“You ready for this?” she asks, tone light but her eyes doing the heavy lifting.

“Always,” you say, voice low. “Are you, though?”

She scoffs. Classic Caitlin. But her gaze dips—for a second—to your mouth. You file that away.

Connor’s courtside, arms crossed, jaw tight. Like he’s the one checking you. You raise your brows at him. Then, without missing a beat, lean closer to Caitlin and tug gently under her chin, just enough to lift it.

“Chin up, superstar,” you whisper. “Wouldn’t want you to miss my highlight reel.”

She swats your hand away, cheeks tinged pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You say that like it’s not your type.”

The ref blows the whistle. Game on.

———————————————————————————————

It’s a blur of elbows, screens, and sharp footwork. You stick to Caitlin like second skin, shoulder-to-shoulder, step-for-step. She tries to break past you on a fast break—you cut her off without blinking. She shoots a fadeaway—you’re already in the air, fingers grazing the arc of the ball.

You don’t talk trash. Not loud anyway.

You just exist in her space.

Every missed bucket of hers? You tilt your head.

Every time she sprints to recover? You’re already there.

When she drops 12 in the first quarter, you drop 14. Silent. Surgical.

She notices.

———————————————————————————————

By halftime, the arena is pulsing with tension. You’re both drenched in effort but not sweat—neither of you looks tired. Just locked in.

ESPN’s courtside cam zooms in on the two of you during a timeout, faces inches apart, words exchanged with no mics picking them up.

“You’re not even sweating,” she huffs, brushing her arm against yours.

“I don’t break a sweat for regular,” you murmur. “Even when it’s wrapped in Nike and ego.”

She laughs, incredulous. “You think you’re better than me?”

“No.” You step close, dropping your voice. “I know I make you think about me more.”

Connor shuffles in his seat again. You glance over your shoulder. “He always look that uncomfortable when you’re enjoying yourself?”

Caitlin rolls her eyes but doesn’t answer. That’s answer enough.

———————————————————————————————

The third quarter starts. You come out hungrier.

Dimes. Stepbacks. Lockdown D. You’re in it.

Her? She’s fighting. She’s fired up. She’s pissed. But there’s that glint in her eye—the one that always comes back to you. That edge of frustration mixed with something else. Curiosity. Attraction. Resentment. All tangled into one unspoken confession.

You catch her again after a foul. You both stand there while the ref sorts it out. Just breathing. Close.

“Why do you look at me like that?” she finally asks.

You glance at her. “Cause you hate it. And love it.”

She bites the inside of her cheek.

Later, you hit a corner three with her draped on you. Nothing but net.

You backpedal down the court, eyes on hers the whole way. “Smile for me, Clark.”

She doesn’t. But her cheeks give her away.

———————————————————————————————

The game ends in a tight finish—UConn wins by two. The buzzer sounds, and the handshake line forms. You make your way over. She’s waiting.

“Nice game,” she says, cool and polite.

“Don’t lie. You missed me all week.”

Caitlin shakes her head but her lips twitch. “Shut up.”

You lean in, real close. “Or what, Clark?”

Before she can answer, cameras flash. Fans scream. You wink at her once—just once—and turn away, your smile unshakable.

This wasn’t just a win.

This was a warning.

You’re not going anywhere.

And she doesn’t want you to.

MASTERLIST

[hollisxwrites]

could you write a percy x daughter of dionysus reader? 🧎‍♀️🙏🏼

lay all your love on me

AGED UP percy jackson x daughter of dionysus! reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: inspired by the "lay all your love on me" scene in momma mia!, just take out the funny background dancers. pretty spicy, not fully on smut, but definitely some heavy making out and innuendos. underwater kissing, mention of underage drinking and the reader being a little bit of a troublemaker, some language, possibly can be seen as slightly angst at the beginning with some little bitty bit of jealously. i really like this one!

summary: the reader is bored on a beach day with her boyfriend, percy, so she decides to tease him a little bit, which ends up with her and her boyfriend making out on the ocean floor LMAO.

Laughter filled the air as my boyfriend, Percy, and I sprawled out on the beach of Camp. It was one of the rare days of peace we had at Camp, a beautiful, glorious, Sunday. Percy looked stunning, as always, the sun warming his freckled face, and the sea making his already perfect hair even curlier. His swim trunks, even though they had unicorns in shark onesies on them, clung to his figure perfectly. I took a sip of my champagne that we had managed to steal out of the cabinet that my dad kept near his desk, and I tried to pry my eyes away from Percy. He was chattering out about something that had happened with the younger campers the day before, watching the waves from his perch against a rock. I wanted to distract him from the mundane talk of camp, so I decided I would mess with the boy a little bit.  

I stood up from where I sat near Percy and pulled off the oversized tee shirt that I had on over my swimsuit. The swimsuit was plum purple, and I knew Percy loved it, he made it abundantly clear every time I wore it. I stood near the water, about ten or eleven feet away from Percy when his conversation finally died down. “You look...beautiful, dear gods.” He choked out, his voice straining a little bit.  

I smiled and adjusted my hair, so it framed my face. “Thank you, darling.” I took another swig out of my champagne flute and turned so my back was to Percy. Soon enough, just as I expected, Percy was beside me. He moved to put his hand on my lower back, but I swatted his hand away. I looked over and saw the little pout on his face, and knew my mission was already succeeding.  

“I noticed you talking to Connor a lot yesterday, what’s that about?” Percy asked, his tone almost a little bitter, even though I could tell by his demeanor that he was joking with me. 

I shrugged. “I lived in the Hermes cabin for a long time, Mr. D never wanted to claim me because he didn’t want to have to punish his own daughter. I used to get into a lot of trouble at Camp.” 

Percy chuckled at this. “Oh, I know. What did Connor want, though? You guys don’t usually talk like that.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Perc.” I looked him in the eye. “He was just asking me if I knew who had stable duties this week, since we both are in trouble with Chiron right now.” 

Percy sighed, letting his eyes wander down my figure, which sent electric shock through my entire body. “Okay, I’m just not used to being so jealous. Any guy I see talk to you feels like a potential threat.” He moved closer to me, our fingers millimeters away from touching. 

“You have no reason to be afraid of other guys. You know I’ve only ever had eyes for you. You have all my love.” I said, comforting the boy. 

He nodded at this. “Sorry, I feel so possessive of you sometimes, you’re just so fucking beautiful, I know any guy would want to have you, but you’re mine.”    

A shiver ran down my spine. “That’s why I love you so much, Perc. That is exactly how I am with you. I don’t want anyone else to even look at you.” 

Percy leaned down a little bit, probably trying to kiss me, and I connected our noses, but never our lips. I moved away, pushing his muscular chest a little, and went to take a sip from the glass still in my hand. He smirked a little bit, finally catching onto the game I was playing with him. I set the glass down in the sand, and walked further into the water, thus further away from Percy. I flipped myself so I was facing him again. “Don’t go wasting your emotion, Perc. Lay all your love on me!”  

He giggled, obviously getting the ABBA reference I was making here. “Okay, miss disco queen.”  

I laughed, getting close enough to kiss him again. This time, just our top lips touch before I pull away and move back to the rock we were leaning against earlier. Perched again on the rock, I looked Percy in the eye. His eyes wandered once again to my figure in the swimsuit, but not in a way that made me uncomfortable, in fact, he made me feel so loved with his gaze. He moved towards me this time, and finally brought us together into a real kiss. My back pressed against the cool surface of the rocks, and I was fully immersed in the kiss. His hands went to my waist, pulling my chest flesh against his, causing my entire body to feel ignited by his touch.  

He separated us, leaving me panting and my knees weak. “Two can play this game, disco queen.” He ran off into the water, diving into the depths of the salty sea. 

“Not fair!” I shouted out after him, still trying to compose myself after the earth-shattering kiss we shared. Sure, as a Dionysus kid, I may have a lot of wit and a lot of charm, but I could not breath underwater like Percy could. Suddenly, I saw a mop of blond curls pop up from the water about half a mile into the distance. “Percy Jackson!” I yelled again. 

I saw, or at least I thought I did, him flipping me off from the distance, and that made the desire in me to catch him even stronger. I hopped in the water and started to paddle my arms, quiet poorly, trying aimlessly to catch up with the boy. I felt a hand grab my calf, and I yelped as I was pulled into the water. I came face to face with Percy. I hated to say it, but he looked even more attractive underwater, if that was even possible. His lips met mine, once again, and due to his touch and manipulation of the water, I could breathe, ish. His hands gripped me, pulling me further down into the dingy water. Being underwater with Percy was always a thrill, especially when we were making out like this, tongues clashing and hands being nowhere and everywhere all at once. When he finally parted from me, both of us were panting like dogs. “Gods, I love you.” 

I giggled, pressing a lingering kiss into his jawline. “I love you, too.”  

He bit his lip as I continued to press kisses into his jaw, his neck, and eventually his collarbones. Maybe it was the champagne going to my head, or maybe it was my handsome boyfriend, but I had never been happier than I was in this moment. My kisses went lower and lower down his abdomen, and I’m sure what you can guess what happened next. 

But, as they say, what happens in the ocean stays in the ocean, or something like that.    

[the-newlymadeweeb]

His Girl

Luke Castellan x female!reader

Description: Luke spends a moment with his favourite hot tempered darling.

Gif is not mine, credits to the creator.

*****************************************************************************

It was an agreed upon opinion that battle axes were incredibly unconventional but you had decided from the moment you had it made that this would be your weapon of choice. And by the gods, did you have a temper. You'd joke that at least your brutish rage would match your brutish weapon. It was extremely ironic when the owl symbol burned brightly over your head and not the symbolic blessing of Ares.

Luke always thought you were a fascinating person: soft features sharply contrasted with fiery eyes and an axe. All that righteous rage never looked so beautiful. He'd received a very limited amount of blessings that were for him alone, but you were satiating and comforting and the hollowed feeling in his chest filled when you let him reach out and accept him in your hands and heart.

And sometimes he'd think, okay maybe there's some salvation and goodness for me.

"Luke? What are you–"

"Just– let me, okay?" He asked as he traced his thumb across your brow and cheekbone, his other hand cupping the back of your neck, cradling you close– admiring, imbibing, "the twins tried to prank you again?"

You rolled your eyes, "would've been funny if I didn't see it a mile away."

"Is that so? Is that why they had me hide your axe?"

He laughed, drawing you close, kissing away the claims of betrayal and conspiracy.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," He sighed.

Sooner or later things were going to change. Luke had a feeling that the summer solstice would truly stir the pot and for all your anger, he knew that when it came down to it, you might not side with him always. In a way, Athena cannot be trusted and hence, neither could you or even Annabeth for a matter of fact.

That wasn't going to change his mind or the skeleton of a plan he'd created but it did make him begin to miss you already, and he knew that he'd covet you even more as the time passed and he'll miss your precious righteous anger and the bittersweet taste of salt and sweat that he kissed off your lips and cheeks after strenuous tasks or games.

His girl with fiery eyes and an axe.

"Yeah, yeah; you keep complimenting me while aiding and abetting the twins. Cancels each other out."

You grinned, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, sneaking your thumbs under his shirt, brushing his sides. You know Luke'll return your weapons and Travis and Connor will be sent for their showers after the entire Hermes cabin finishes theirs for the next week. All in all, dating Head Councelor has its perks.

"Your birthday's coming up, got any requests?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your hair before leaning back to look you in the eye.

"Nah, maybe we can spend the day sparring. I can show you this technique I've developed."

"Sparring, huh?" He smirks, "sure, I'd love to see this technique of yours."

"Wow, leave me alone," you roll your eyes, swatting at him.

He catched your hand and presses two kisses between your knuckles and as always, almost love a traditional practice you do the same to him.

"Alright I gotta go, the new kids got their Greek lesson now," you say.

"Wish I had such a gorgeous tutor back in the day," he teases, grinning as you stick your tongue at him, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah you will. I love you."

"I love you more.'

His girl with fiery eyes and an axe.

*****************************************************************************

[letsyapthenightaway]

Hockey boys with a sweet talker plus size! gf

Matt Rempe- He loves it, it entertains him so much and yes he's a grown tall ass man but it makes him putty. Has gotten bashful so many times it's adorable! But don't think just because he reacts like that he's not gonna respond. No, he lives to get you just as equally flustered. He'd one-up you by getting handsy, grabbing at wherever he could while laughing and teasing you. "Look at you and it's all mine"

Luke Hughes - Blushing and caught off guard every single time. "Babe!" as he looks at you with wide eyes and a shocked smile. Usually, he'd react like that if you say something that's either leaning towards inappropriate or just is. Would just shake his head and smile when it's something light. If he's feeling daring he'd lean into your space with a smirk, pull you close, and test if you'd do what you said you would.

Jack Hughes- "Is somebody gonna match my freak" he would. You say something out of pocket at first he's shocked but quickly bounces back with an equally flirty response. This is how you guys started dating because even before being official you two had this dynamic. Like Rempe, I feel like he'd let his hands get involved either casually touching your face or playfully swatting your bottom. "It was right there I had to!" dude would mention the jiggle just to make it more playful.

Quinn Hughes- Laughs, kind of like Luke he would test if you mean what you say in a teasing manner but wouldn't say something flirty back like Jack. If you say it in public where people hear he'd shake his head with a bashful smile " Yup, that's my girl" Loves that sometimes you don't even notice you doing it. Was surprised when you first showed that side of you because it wasn't towards him. It was to your friends, it came off so natural to them but with him liking him made you too nervous to talk like that.

Connor Bedard- Saw how you talked with your friends and questioned if you actually liked him. Once again you got too shy to be like that to him because you actually felt like that towards him. Once dating it was like a bomb went off, he'd get so excited to see or hear your little flirts. Smiles and blushes whenever he hears them, I feel like he would wanna respond but his brain short circuits sometimes so it just leaves him giving the classic Bedard stare and stance. idk but I feel like every time you do it, it makes him wanna kiss you.

[telizere]

Here is my piece for DBH Reverse Big Bang (@dbh-bb). I was partnered with @rking200 as the writer and we explored an idea of alternate universe where Captain Allen was so impressed with Connor, after the android managed to successfully negotiate the release of Emma Phillips, that he fought tooth and nail to procure Connor for SWAT (as tactical robot, electronic control weapon, protective gear, part of the Team).

You can read rking200's story here .

Also I got my hands on a tablet! I usually work with ink so it was a challenge to switch from paper and pencil to drawing digitally. After finishing lineart I decided to add basic colors and then it snowballed from there but I think I managed not to fall into Realistic Beaver Show category :D

Alt Text: Captain Allen and Connor stand face to face. Captain Allen is in his full SWAT armour. Connor wears a lighter version of SWAT armour. His LED is hidden, Captain Allen holds out to Connor his coin, Connor reaches for it but is hesitant to take it. Captain's Allen posture is confident, while Connor is slightly hunched and his head is bowed.

[kissoflightning]

Connor RK800, RK900 Full-Body Reference Pics

Additional (Neck down so we can see the feet without the overlay):

More character references below the cut:

Alice YK500

Amanda Stern/AI

AP700

Captain Allen SWAT

Carl Manfred

Connor RK800, RK900

Chloe RT600, Chloe ST200, and ST300 Androids

Cristina Warren

DPD and Police Androids (Including Ben Collins, Chris Miller, Jeffrey Fowler, Tina Chen, and PM700)

Elijah Kamski

Gavin Reed

Hank Anderson

Josh PJ500

Kara Ax400

Leo Manfred

Markus RK200

North WR400

Richard Perkins

Rose & Adam Chapman

Rupert Travis/WB200

Simon & Daniel PL600

Sumo (Dog)

Traci WR400 and HR400 Androids (Including "Echo" and "Ripple" ]

Zlatko's Creatures

[marcusrobertobaq]

Although it's just a comic relief moment I find funny Connor being like a messy tank, no finesse at all sometimes.

Like, while mfs open the doors when on rush he's the one putting the whole wall down just to get inside the house cuz he thinks it's faster (in urgent cases ofc). I don't think got anything to do with his program or brain, it's just Connor's impulsive decisions.

If u wanna talk about prototypes Connor is a final prototype with the commercial version already ready for action, the devs didn't run out of time. And Markus was a 0.5 of sorts reconfigured for caretaker function made by Kamski himself and his team but still have the og thing inside he likely "unlocks" with deviancy, u can notice how things are natural even tho he has just deviated few hrs before.

I honestly don't think Connor can't do anything Markus can but it's pretty clear they gave the Connor series appeal to small guns. I won't dare questioning why 😳

I'm convinced that Markus can jump over a window that smoothly while Connor stumbles over and fall because

1) Markus-era androids have more quality in some points and Cyberlife didn't mass produce as much, he's elite thank you very much

2) Connor is a beta-version of the final product. The devs ran out of time and definitely struggled with the deadline as all programmers do

3) Connor has the android equivalent of a smooth brain, no wrinkles here

[happypopcornprincess]

Epilogue || About You

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader

Premise -  your paths cross yet again, the yearning in your hearts seeks for resolution.

Word Count - 4.2K

Warnings: MINORS DNI strong language, mentions of SMUT, emotional turmoil, mentions of smoking, ANGST

a/n - I would like to thank every single one of you for your lovely likes, reblogs and comments on this series! It proved to be an extremely beautiful motivation for me to complete this story! Hope I did justice to the characters in this epilogue, and I hope you like this chapter. and yes, headcannons and blurbs requests on this series is heartily welcome!

<< Chapter 6 || Series Masterlist

Three Months Later

Loaded cheese fries, a tall glass of chocolate milkshake, and a good old american style cheeseburger. Just what you imagined your 24th birthday to be... a quiet, normal brunch in the bustling diner three blocks away from your apartment eating up to your heart’s content.

While you were busy replying to all the congratulations on your phone that had been blowing up since last night, you took a second to swat away the hand that was slowly slithering towards your tray of fries.

“Ouch.” Connor hissed, exaggerating your swat. He had started at georgetown, and had flown to New York for your birthday for the weekend.

“Do. Not. Touch, my fries.” you reply in a monotone voice, your eyes trained on your screen.

“But,”

“No.”

“I’m paying for lunch!” 

“And it’s my birthday, so shut up.”

Connor had opened his mouth to argue but you sensed it from a mile away, “and don’t say that I’m not supposed to eat ‘junk’ because I got cleared a month ago, also I don’t start at the compound until next week so,” you take a long gulp of your milkshake, “I can eat as much as I want!” you smile at him.

Since your recovery, you both had gone back to how you were as kids; loving, caring, and occasionally annoying the shit out of each other. Connor had only agreed to go back to his university when you were able to move on your own and shift back to your apartment.

“You're mean.” he grumbled, playing with his plate of spaghetti, still eyeing your plate of fries.

“No I'm not. You’re the one who didn't… Connor!” While you were busy lecturing him and typing a message to Aunt May to thank her for her wishes, he had grabbed a fistful of fries from your plate, with the cheese and had stuffed his mouth with them.

Instead of saying anything, you had grabbed his coke and drank from it while swatting his hand away from your fries.

“What the hell dude!” He made another effort to squash your burger but you were quick to make a grab for his plate of spaghetti, grabbing his fork to fill your mouth with spaghetti like he did.

“Stop stealing my noodles!”

“Stop stealing my fries!”

“Hey!” a waitress whipped past your table, “could you calm down maybe!.”

Connor retreated at that second, making you drop the fork and mutter out a simple, “sorry miss.” and continue with your food, only to look at Connor and find him struggling to keep his giggles in check.

“Stop giggling,” you kicked him under the table, only making him laugh louder.

“Oh shit,” he swallowed, wiping his hands on a napkin, “I forgot to give you this…” he takes out a blue tetris console from his jacket and gives it to you.

“Awww, a tetris!” you took the familiar console you had loved so much as a kid, sharing it with Connor late nights after dinner.

“Happy Birthday, bug.” he ruffled your head and you let him, feeling content in the sense of normalcy that had established in your bond after so long.

As the waitress cleared your plates, Connor insisted on walking to your place, exploring New York. So that's what you did, walking around the city the entire evening, and gradually the cold grew, the biting wind whipped around you as you rushed back to your apartment, the darkening sky and the increasing speed of the gusts pointing towards a looming snowfall.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” you asked Connor, fumbling with your keys at the door.

“Afternoon. I’ll probably head out around nine,” he replied, rubbing his hands together against the sudden chill.

“Cool. I’ll drop you off,” you smiled, finally turning the key and pushing open the door to the familiar darkness of your apartment. You stepped inside, reaching for the light switch, only to be instantly blinded by a sudden, overwhelming surge of brightness directly in your face.

“SURPRISE!”

The shout hit you like a physical wave, confetti rained down, sticking to your hair and clothes, and the sharp cracks of party poppers mingled with the blare of tiny trumpets. You blinked, and slowly your vision cleared, revealing your apartment transformed into a vibrant chaos, filled with the smiling faces of your friends.

An exparent laugh leaves your throat watching Bucky smiling wide wearing a cone hat and holding a cake, while Kamala, Shang Chi, Peter, Kate, Aunt May, Happy, and even Lucky standing by the door singing happy birthday. Even Lucky, Kate’s pizza loving golden retriever was wagging its tail with a wide smile on his face. You look at Connor, with wide eyes, just to find him struggling to wear a hat and pushing you forward to blow the candles on your cake at the same time.

You wanted to cry, but at the same time laugh at how fulfilled you were feeling at the moment.

“The wax is melting! blow out the candles!” Kamala screamed, and you laughed as you blew the candles, and everyone clapped and screamed as Shang Chi and Peter held you in a grip while Kate smeared your face with whipped cream, all while Connor took embarrassing photos that he said he will torment you for the rest of the year.

You laughed until your tummy hurt, and slumped on the couch after Aunt May helped you wipe your face and throw you out of the kitchen as she and Happy were on food duty.

Lucky placed his head on your lap as you petted him, and your friends joined you to sit and talk when you asked, “I thought you guys were on a mission in Hawaii!”

“It was a code,” Kamala laughed, joining your side, “all planned by Connor and Bucky.”

“What!” you look at Bucky, who was busy cutting the cake to hand out to everyone.

He only laughed “You actually thought I’d miss your birthday?”

“You bought it because you’re dumb.” Connor stuck out his tongue 

Groaning, you screamed, “Shut up,” as you aimed a pillow at his face, and he raised his glass to show that if you hit him he would retaliate by pouring cola on you.

“Ookay cut it out!” You whipped your head at the source, hearing the familiar voice of your old friend. 

Standing at the front door, Sam entered the room with a big laugh, holding an even bigger bag. Cheers erupted as he made a beeline for Bucky and left a big smooch on his cheek, making him fumble with the cake, his face turning red with embarrassment. Sam and Bucky made it official a few weeks before, and honestly, you were having the time of your life by teasing them about it relentlessly. Hearing the door shut, your attention is diverted by the figure standing at the end.

Bomber jacket over a loose white shirt, standing awkwardly at the entrance… his eyes met you.

He had grown his hair out a bit, his curls now more defined. He let out a small smile, and before you could say anything, Peter had already rushed to tackle him in a hug, followed by Kate, Kamala and Shang Chi. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him even if you tried to. With a content smile on his face, his laughter was filled with joy as he met his friends after such a long time.

After that night, Joaquin had left the compound to go live with Sam in a bunker somewhere that nobody knew about. Your friends were distraught trying to get to him, inviting him for dinner or asking him to join them for hangouts, but every single time he had told them he had his hands full at work; working with Sam, with the USAF, he even went to space with Sam following Nick Fury in his space station.

At one point, Sam was the only source of knowing how he was doing, and you understood.

Joaquin needed space, so did you.

And here he was, months after you'd drifted off in his arms only to wake and find him gone. He was back in your home, the same place that held so many of your shared memories.

—/—/—

Two hours ago, Sam’s Hangar

His fingers hovered over the screen, looking at the groupchat he was added to called ‘Mission Hawaii’, Connor’s relentless texts tagging him to get to y/n’s place for the surprise party. His mind raced for a way to get out of this, as this time he couldn't tell them he was working with Sam because he was going too. 

Hearing a sharp knock at the door, Joaquin opened it to expect Sam coming back from the HQ to the hangar, and his heart catapulted out of his chest watching Peter and Shang Chi looking at him, their faces etched in a frown.

Peter wasted no time to enter the hangar, while Shang Chi stared him down.

“Are you here to beat me up?” he asked, looking at Shang Chi.

“The way you’re throwing a baby fits about this, yeah. I am.” Shang Chi replied, crossing his arms, his face grimm.

Peter shouts from inside, “nice place Torress, very… spacious”

"How did you even find me?" Joaquin huffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The question was rhetorical; he knew Sam wouldn't have kept his location a secret if it meant getting him to Y/N's.

"Kate's got tracking on you that rivals Fury's," Shang-Chi stated flatly. 

Joaquin let out a dry laugh, “That’s a federal offence! This is an active USAF base I could…”

“Oh fuck off Torres!” Peter twitched, screaming at him. Joaquin groaned watching how he was marching towards him, looking right at him shrugging, “we know you’re avoiding us.”

Joaquin looked at the two of them, shouting, “I’m not!”

“Yeah, we don’t buy that.” Shang Chi stated, his voice dangerously neutral, similar to when he was about to blow something up.

“I do have work!” he shouts pointing to the scattered papers on his desk, the unfinished schematics on his screen. The excuse felt fake even to his own ears.

Peter groaned, “You haven’t played Black Ops with us in ages!”

“You’re ambushing me over Black Ops?” Joaquin looked at them in bewilderment.

“This is not about Black Ops!” 

Shang Chi’s booming voice fills the space, making both Joaquin and Peter look at him. He stood looking at the ceiling, breathing in to keep himself calm. Meeting Joaquin’s eyes, he spoke, "People are worried about you… both of you."

Joaquin saw the way Shang Chi’s shoulders dropped, like he was defeated, "Man," he began, shaking his head slightly, a note of sadness in his voice, "whatever happened between you and Y/N... I don't need the specifics. But this isn't the answer, Joaquin. You two were… close, before Mexico. And now? She's been in recovery for months, and you've just vanished. It's... it's frustrating watching you both fall apart like this."

“We know you like her.” Peter says, which lets Joaquin shout in response, “I don’t like her!”

“You’re acting like a kid!” Peter shouts back.

“No I'm not!” he throws up his hands.

“He’s right.” Sam entered, closing the door behind him.

Joaquin’s shoulders slumped, “Sam.” he breathed out, realising this wasn’t a confrontation…

This was an intervention. 

“I have seen you work your ass off in every single mission, losing sleep and rest every single day.” he continued.

“I was just..”

“I’m not done.” Sam exclaimed, "For three months," Sam continued, stepping further into the hangar, his gaze unwavering, "I've watched you push yourself to the brink. Every mission, every debrief, you're running on fumes. You think we haven't noticed?"

"I just needed…"

"I gave you two weekends off, man," Sam interrupted gently, placing a hand on Joaquin's shoulder. "Two weekends to sleep, to decompress, to see your friends. And what did you do? You locked yourself in here, tinkering with Stark's old drone designs. You're not fooling anyone, least of all yourself."

Joaquin wanted to say something, but he knew Sam had managed to read him like a book, and he was 100% right.

"This isn't just about you and Y/N," Sam said, his voice firm but kind. "It's about the team. What happens the next time we're in the field together? That tension… that unresolved crap… it puts everyone at risk."

He gave Joaquin's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm leaving at five to pick up a ridiculously expensive present for Y/N, because she deserves it. You’re happy to join us."

The silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of their combined concern finally breaking through Joaquin. He looked from Sam's understanding gaze to the worried faces of Peter and Shang-Chi. He was hurting, yes, but they were hurting too, watching him withdraw. 

A slow, reluctant nod was his only answer.

—/—/—

You couldn’t tear your eyes off of him, your mind analysing his every moment.

There was a subtle sigh that escaped him when he leaned against the wall, a sound of deep weariness. He blinked more often, as if fighting off fatigue. When Aunt May teased him about missing the cookout at her place, his usual playful banter was subdued, his responses almost automatic.

You recalled that night, you had waited for him to show up, only for Kate to announce last minute that he won’t be coming. 

Months. 

That's how long it had been.

Three Months of silence.

Even as the party buzzed around you, a knot of guilt tightened in your chest, the same one that had been eating you alive since you were discharged from the med bay.

His absence felt like a clinical, almost polite way to describe the gaping hole that had opened between you. It wasn't just a lack of texts or calls; it was like a wall had slammed shut with a force that still echoed in the quiet corners of your mind. 

And it was all your fault. 

Every unanswered message, every missed call, was a stark reminder of the pain you had inflicted on him. The casual cruelty of your own confusion, the way you had taken his care for granted, the messy, selfish way you had navigated his open heart. 

Pain wasn't a strong enough word for what you put him through. 

And now, watching him across the room, a ghost of his usual easygoing self, the weight of that realization pressed down on you. How do you even begin to mend something this broken? Where do you even start to fix a hurt that runs this deep? 

You had absolutely no idea.

“Okayyy…” Kate waltzes in with a big smile on her face, snapping you out of your thoughts and blocking your view of Joaquin, shoving a paper bag in your hands, “time for presents!” she clapped, and you knew just by how fast Peter and Shang Chi rushed to your side that she had given them her iconic ‘dagger eyes’.

“Kate, there was no need…” you had begun trying to return it but this time you were on the receiving end of her dagger eyes, warning you not to say anything further, “but i’m so glad you got me a gift yayy!

She dropped a smile, and you opened the gift to see a familiar white and purple accent…

You gasped, holding the box like it was a treasure, “Kate, you did not…”

“It’s the matching daggers you told me about!” she screamed, and you unwrapped them out of the box to see a set of purple and silver daggers, the colors matching Kate’s bow and arrow.

“Matching weapons!” you giggled, and only Bucky followed suit, while everyone else looked a bit puzzled at your excitement for weapons as gifts.

One by one, you opened the presents from your friends. Bucky, sticking to his love for flexible weaponry, had gifted you a high-quality stainless steel Swiss Army knife. 

Shang-Chi presented a smooth, cool feng shui amulet, carefully explaining its significance for "lucky charm on field," his dark eyes holding a quiet sincerity that resonated deep within you, a silent wish for your safety that felt more profound than the object itself. 

Peter, ever the tech tinkerer, gave you a small, agile robot shaped like a spider, demonstrating its hand-gesture controls with an enthusiastic grin, a spark of the boyish charm you'd always cherished. 

Kamala’s handmade earrings were bright and cheerful, a tangible piece of her vibrant energy. 

Then, Sam’s gift. 

The box was heavier than the others, and when you lifted the lid, your breath caught. High-quality durable combat boots, the kind that can survive anything from fire to blades, the kind any agent would covet. But it wasn't just the practicality; tucked inside one of the boots was a small, folded piece of paper. Unfurling it, you found a brief, heartfelt note in Sam’s familiar scrawl: "Stay grounded, kid. We need you." A warmth spread through your chest, a reminder of his unwavering support and the unspoken bond you shared. 

You held Peter's little spider-bot, its metallic legs twitching in your palm, and then looked at the smooth, grounding weight of Shang-Chi's amulet. These gifts weren't just objects; they were small pieces of their care, their worry and their hope for your future.

You thanked each of them, pulling everyone into a hug before they all migrated towards the kitchen, their voices rising in playful demands for Aunt May’s food. 

It was then, as you held the cool amulet in your hand, watching Peter’s little spider-bot scurry across the coffee table, a quiet appreciation settling in your heart, that Connor’s voice broke through your thoughts. 

He pressed a glass of soda into your hand and whispered into your ear, “Greet him.” His gaze flickered pointedly towards Joaquin, who stood awkwardly near the window, a gentle hand stroking Lucky who contentedly perched at his feet.

“I don’t think that’s good…” you murmured, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

Connor, however, was already in motion, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You tugged frantically at Connor’s shirt, trying to reel him back, but he was already halfway across the room, “Joaquin!” he boomed, clapping Joaquin on the shoulder with perhaps a little too much force. “So nice to see you brother! I believe you haven’t met the birthday girl yet!”

Before you could intervene, Connor had clapped Joaquin on the back again, effectively turning him in your direction. A sudden, unnerving silence descended upon the room, the chatter ending abruptly.

The weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air, your heart hammered against your ribs, a terrifying awareness that everyone was waiting for you, for something, anything, to break the silence.

“Happy birthday,” Joaquin said, his voice a low rumble, offering a stiff nod.

“Thanks,” you managed, a faint uncertain smile gracing your lips.

After that… silence.

“Fresh hot lasagna incoming!” Happy’s booming voice echoed from the kitchen, slicing through the awkward tension.

—/—/—

Grabbing whatever seat they could find with the food at the center, chaos somewhat subdued as everyone at the dinner table dug into the absolute feast cooked up by Happy and Aunt May; hefty portions of Lasagna, coleslaw salad, loaded cheesy fries, assortments, and at least four types of non alcoholic drinks.

“Happy, you’re spoiling me with these cheese fries!” you exclaim as you took another bite.

“Well, I tried to light up the grill on the fire escape but everyone protested due to the snowstorm.” he says, filling up his plate with some cream rolls as Peter and Kamala fought over the meatballs, while Kate tried to break them off. Aunt May gave him a stern look, “Peter…”, her voice dropped low, making him freeze and dropping his fork while Kamala dished the last piece out, giggling menacingly. Bucky and Sam watched her with wide eyes, how this sweet lady could turn into a scary woman in seconds.

You shared a look with Connor, smiling at the scene, but yours dropped watching his smile turn mischievous, as he casually leaned back in his chair, and slapped a hand on Joaquin’s back who was sitting next to him eating silently, “It’s been a while Torres, what's been keepin' your spurs busy these days?” he drawled, making you glare at him as he looked right at you.

What the everlovin’ fuck? Your eyes narrowed at Connor. 

Make up with him, you buffoon. He offered you an entirely unconvincing smile.

“Sam told me you went to space with him?” Bucky followed suit between his bites of lasagna.

Are y’all in cahoots? Your jaw dropped, your gaze darting between Bucky and Connor. Connor simply grinned, waiting as all eyes at the table turned to Joaquin.

“Uh, yeah. Sam and I were with Captain Danvers, and we met Fury for a roundabout. It was fun.” Joaquin replied, a strained smile on his face, avoiding your gaze despite being seated directly across from you – another one of Connor’s strategic placements, no doubt.

He was about to have a strongly worded conversation with you after this party was over.

“Did you meet Goose?” Kamala asked excitedly.

Instead of diving into details and talking in detail, Joaquin just let out a small, “yeah,” he gulped, “he’s a cute one.”

“Goose is a girl,” Kamala retorted, causing Shang-Chi to choke on his drink. Joaquin offered a small nod, grimacing, “Oh, sorry.” 

Your attention shifted onto him, mentally noting down the shadows beneath his eyes and the subdued energy that shone through his light words, his usual playful banter and quick remarks missing from the table.

“Is that why you were gone for so long? You were in space?” Shang Chi nudged him, making Joaquin’s gaze flicker right at you for a second that your heart did a somersault, and then looking at Sam, throwing a small smile, “That, and other things. Demanding work with the USAF is very… demanding, and confidential. So I can’t say anything else.”

“Well I hope you’re getting enough sleep.” Happy chuckled. 

A warm hand covers yours, you look down to see Aunt May sitting next to you smiling kindly, “It's good to see you with some color back in your cheeks, darling.” you smiled in response, “Thanks May, Doc says I'm good to go back to active duty next week.”

“Hear, hear!” Peter clapped enthusiastically, followed by Kate’s slap on the table and a chorus of cheers and applause. You mockingly bowed, laughing as Lucky added a happy bark and a tail wag.

“When you’re back on compound, we are surely having that movie night bro.” kate hi fived you.

“When you’re back on compound, we are surely having that movie night, bro,” Kate declared, giving you a high five.

“Of course,” you nodded, taking a long sip of your soda punch.

“What?” you laughed nervously, catching the look that passed between Shang-Chi and Connor, both their eyes now fixed on the blissfully oblivious Joaquin, silently eating his dinner.

Connor clapped his hands together. “I leave tomorrow, and there’s a snowstorm happening outside… so let’s have a sleepover!” he whooped, Bucky agreeing.

“But…” Your protests were drowned out as Shang-Chi enthusiastically shook Joaquin’s shoulders, finally snapping him out of his focused eating. Bewilderment clouded Joaquin’s face as Bucky launched into a detailed explanation of his vast collection of extra bedding. 

He never had extra bedding. 

He slept on the floor.

“Well, I’ll be staying over with Bucky, so…” Sam announced casually, earning a collective “oooooh” from the group.

“Who’s gonna drop me off? I came here with you,” Joaquin asked Sam, a flicker of panic in his eyes.

“Well, didn’t you hear, Torres? We’re having a sleepover,” Sam laughed, clinking his glass against Bucky’s.

You scanned every face around the table, a dawning sense of disbelief washing over you. Finally, your eyes met Joaquin’s, and in his widening gaze, you saw the exact moment the realization hit him: this wasn’t just a birthday party.

This was a fucking ambush to trap you two together.

—/—/—

A shiver traced its way down your spine as the harsh wind slapped against your face, your thin sweater offering little resistance to the biting cold. You rubbed your hands together, a dry laugh escaping your lips at the sheer irony of it all – seeking refuge on the fire escape from the impending chaos within.

Looking at the sky above, there was only a matter of minutes before the snowfall started, you pulled your beanie down, and leaned against the railing, peeking through the living room window, the scene inside a testament to your friends' determination. 

May and Happy, bless their early-to-bed souls, had already retreated to your bedroom. Bucky, with a grunt, hauled a frankly alarming number of mattresses into the living room, while Peter and Shang-Chi wrestled with your couch and coffee table, clearing the floor space. You ducked out just as Connor began his frantic, loud search for you within the apartment.

You evil little shit. You thought, gritting your teeth. 

The realization that this entire "sleepover" was a meticulously crafted plot by your "loving" little brother sent a fresh wave of irritation through you. 

Yes, at this moment, the fact of his earlier birth held absolutely no weight because he was acting like a devious teenager dead set on making his older sister's life a living hell.

The sharp strike of a match and the soft glow on the stairs below you snapped you out of your innate frustration. Then came the distinct creak of metal, drawing your attention. A figure sat silhouetted against the dim light onto the stairs.

You turned and began to descend the narrow metal steps, your breath catching in your throat as you reached the steps. 

It was Joaquin, a lit cigarette held loosely between his fingers, his head snapping up, a startled expression flickering across his face as he registered your presence.

—/—/—

"Since when do you smoke?" you said, your voice a little sharper than intended, the cold air and the unexpected sight of the cigarette in his hand making you edgy.

Joaquin rolled his eyes in response, taking a long drag, and then blowing it in the wind, the sight making you uneasy, “you shouldn’t be out here.”

“Well this is my place, you shouldn’t be out here.”

“Can I get a minute of peace? Please?” he took another drag, smoke escaping his lips that made your stomach turn.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to calm yourself. You can’t confront him, you have to approach this situation calmly, keeping in mind how absolutely taken aback you were watching him smoke.

“Joaquin.” you look at him, making him turn, his weary eyes looking at you, filled with a pleading request to be left alone. Any other time, with anyone else, you might have retreated, respecting that clear boundary. 

But this was Joaquin, and the unexpected cigarette, the tension radiating off him – it all pushed you forward.

You took a step down, settling onto the stair above him, the metal cold beneath your jeans. He turned silently, his gaze now fixed on you, leaning back against the railing, the lit cigarette still held loosely in his hand.

Joaquin doesn’t say anything, and neither do you.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy like the smoke that briefly curled from the cigarette in Joaquin’s hand. Your gaze remained fixed on his face, tracing the deep lines of exhaustion around his eyes, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy he usually exuded. 

He, in turn, avoided your scrutiny, his attention solely devoted to the small, glowing light in his grasp, as if it held the answers he couldn’t articulate.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Y/N,” he finally huffed out, the raw pain in his voice twisting something inside you. You swallowed hard, a fresh wave of guilt washing over you. You sat up straighter, bracing yourself for what he might say. 

He continued, his voice low and weary, “I work until my legs give out, or I’m close to a blackout, and I sleep until my alarm screams at me, and then I’m back on my feet again, trying to follow Sam anywhere he wants me to.” Each word was a small, sharp stone hitting your heart. 

This relentless drive, this self-imposed exhaustion – was this how much you had hurt him? Was this his way of outrunning the pain you’d caused?

He took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze still fixed on his hands. “It just started… once a while, just to get the shit off my chest. I don’t even know when I ended up doing four a day.” The confession was quiet, almost to himself, but the weight of it landed squarely on you. Four times a day he sought this temporary escape. The realization was a physical blow.

“Does Sam know you…” you managed, your voice barely a whisper, the question heavy with dread.

“He does.” Joaquin cleared his throat, a harsh, grating sound. “Two days ago, he saw me behind the hangar at night. I’ve never seen him so… disappointed.” A tired breath escaped him, his head falling back to rest against the cold metal railing. 

This wasn't Joaquin who usually found a way to work through things, to bounce back with a smile. This was someone utterly defeated, utterly drained. You remembered the nights he’d held you tight, seeking solace in your embrace after a difficult mission, the raw desire in his eyes to just feel your body against his and then drift off to sleep in a bliss. 

But this… this hollowed-out version of him was a direct consequence of your actions, a constant, agonizing reminder of the depth of his pain. 

You took a breath, trying to gather your thoughts, to find a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. "Why didn't you say anything? To Peter, to Shang-Chi... to me?" The last word hung in the air, a silent plea for the connection that had been severed. 

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your body screamed at you to reach out, to touch his arm, to hug him, but the distance between you felt immense, a transparent divide between your physical self that stopped you from doing so.

You gathered every bit of courage you had, and spoke up, paying no heed if it even made sense, “You’re not supposed to punish yourself, Joaquin. It should have been me… eating myself alive for hurting you like this. I…” your throat tightens, a sob caught within, but you continued, “You gave me nothing but love. Love I didn’t even deserve. I am the reason you’re in this state. My selfish nature… It led you here. It was me… who used you. And I am so, so sorry for it.” you choked, letting out a whisper, “I don’t even know how to make up to you. If I ever will make up to you… for what you did. For every single time you were there… to hold me up when I was down. And I… I couldn’t be here for you when you needed me. I am sorry, Joaquin. I am so, so sorry.”

Tears streamed down your face, as Joaquin looked down at his shoes, hearing every word you said in deathly silence.

Joaquin then stared out at the city lights, the cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers. Your words hung in the cold air, when he finally turned, his gaze dark and tormented, ”Guilty? You think you’re the only one haunted by this? Every damn night, Y/N, every time I close my eyes… I see it. Dexter… his hands on you…” His voice cracked, the memory a visceral punch to the gut. He looked away, his jaw clenching, “If I was only fast enough… just a fraction of a second quicker… I could have stopped him. You wouldn’t have… you wouldn’t have…” He choked, unable to voice the image that had been seared into his mind. He scrubbed a hand roughly across his face.

You gasped, shaking your head to deny his accusations but he continued, “I couldn’t even look at you in that med-bay… all those tubes… the machines beeping… without seeing him pinning you down… as he…” he stops abruptly, a shudder running through him, “…as he tried to…” He took a ragged breath, the guilt a crushing weight on his chest.

“Joaquin… baby…” you reached out to him, but he recoiled, shifting away from you, his gaze trained on the horizon, “You were fighting for your life… and I… I walked away with a scratch. A goddamn scratch. How am I supposed to live with that mi amor? Knowing I let the love of my life get hurt like that… right in front of me? I was supposed to protect you.”

You move on your own accord, taking a seat right next to him

Joaquin keeps his gaze fixed on the city lights, avoiding you.

“Look at me, Joaquin. Please.” your voice firm, you call to him.

Testing waters, you reach out, gently taking his chin, turning his face towards you. He lets go of the cigarette, it falls on the cold metal extinguishing itself, as he resists at first, but your touch is insistent. His face is cold when finally, his eyes meet yours, and you see it – the raw, silent tears tracing paths down his weathered cheeks. Your heart clenches as you reach up, your thumbs softly wiping away the wetness.

Sobbing, you comfort him, “You did protect me! Joaquin! The only reason I’m here right now… breathing… is because you were with me there. In that basement. You fought him. You kept him off me as long as you could. Don’t you dare…”

You sniffle as his face softens. The city lights paint streaks across Joaquin’s tear-streaked face as your hands frame his jaw, your gaze unwavering, filled with a tenderness that cuts through the cold night air. He holds your hands that are on his face, closing his eyes as tears streamed down. Your voice softens, filled with a fierce tenderness, you continue, the words flying out of your mouth on their own accord, “You are… an absolutely wonderful man, Joaquin. You love… like it’s breathing. You make me feel…alive.” you smile, “Truly, achingly alive. You are the reason I’ve been truly happy… in a long, long time.”

Your grip tightens gently, a whisper leaving your lips, “it should be me begging for your forgiveness for what I put you through… and you need to stop. You need to stop… tearing yourself apart like this. You deserve better.”

Joaquin shakes his head, his gaze dropping away again, a fresh wave of despair washing over his features, “I can’t… I can’t even… love myself right now… I can’t…”

You hold his face closer, holding the back of his neck forcing him to look at you as you lean in, your forehead pressing against his, “Then I will. I will love you. For both of us. Until you can see what I see. I love you, Joaquin. More than words can say, more than anything.”

You leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead, your fingers gently brushing strands of hair from his damp brow. But before your lips could touch his skin, he surged forward, pulling you close. You surrendered to the embrace, letting him draw you in.

Then, his arms were around you, a fierce, desperate hold that pressed you tightly against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, a muffled sniffle escaping him. His grip on your back was a silent plea for you to not let go. Instinctively, your own arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangling in the short hairs at his nape. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin. A sob finally tore through his chest, and as he held you tighter, a matching wave of emotion crashed over you, your own body shaking with the force of your shared grief and fragile reconnection.

Time didn’t matter as he sat in your embrace, and you didn’t let go until his sobs subdued.

When he finally loosened his hold, the sudden absence of his warmth sent a shiver through you. Joaquin cleared his throat, roughly swiping at his eyes with the back of his jacket sleeve. Then, his touch softened. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb then tracing the dampness of your tears as he softly caressed your cheek.

Involuntarily, your body trembled at the loss of his embrace. A low groan escaped your lips as a sharp throb radiated from a particular stab wound just beneath your lower ribs, the cold air seemingly amplifying the ache. His gaze, which had been tenderly fixed on your face, instantly sharpened with concern as he noticed your wince. “Uh, we should probably…”

“Yeah,” you replied, a small, strained smile on your face as you attempted to push yourself up.

“Should I…” He moved instinctively to assist you, his hands reaching out, but you offered a playful wave, a weak attempt at lightness.

“Nah, I'm fine. Just, you know, the wounds are acting up a little in the cold.”

Joaquin nodded slowly, his hands hovering near your body, a silent offer of support should you falter. “Okay. Uh, I'm right behind you.”

—/—/—

You opened the window to find The Young Avengers were sprawled in exhausted heaps on mattresses across your living room floor. 

Kamala and Kate were a tangled mess on one mattress, Lucky nestled near Kamala’s feet. Shang-Chi lay sprawled on another, leaving Peter with a hopeful expanse beside him and the beckoning couch.

You descended from the fire escape, Joaquin’s quiet footsteps echoing yours as he secured the window against the swirling snow. Your eyes met across the room, and he stopped, taking a deep breath, he offered a subtle nod towards the couch. Your heart fluttered as you tiptoed to your spot, the worn cushions molding to your form. Barely settled, a familiar warmth brushed your hand – Joaquin, wordlessly offering a blanket before claiming the space beside a deeply snoring Peter.

You adjusted the soft wool around you, your gaze drifting to Joaquin.  He had fallen asleep the second he hit the mattress. And even in sleep, the lines of exhaustion around his eyes tugged at your heart. 

He shifted, his eyes fluttering open, finding yours in the dim light filtering from the hallway. A soft, hesitant smile touched his lips, a ghost of the playful warmth you’d once known so well. Your own smile bloomed in response, a fragile offering of hope and unspoken forgiveness.

—/—/—

The wind howled softly outside as the first delicate snowflakes danced past the window, mirroring the hope blossoming in your chest, you watched Joaquin drift into a peaceful slumber. A tender smile lingered on your lips. 

The space between you on the couch felt vast, yet the connection in that shared smile felt like the first fragile thread of a bridge being rebuilt across the chasm of the past months. As sleep finally claimed you, the image of his peaceful face was the last thing on your mind, a quiet yearning for the day when that distance wouldn't feel so immense.

---/---/---

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

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[enby-jellyfish]

Clichés

Connor (RK800) X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your, They/Them

Summary: Connor takes inspiration for his first ever date from old movie clichés.

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word Count: 910

A/N: I love him so much.

Connor adjusts the knot of his tie again, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Technically, it doesn’t need adjusting. He knows it sits as perfect as it can, but still, he fidgets.

“You’re overthinking it, kid.” Hank grumbles from behind, stepping in to swat Connor’s hands away and fix the tie himself. “There. Relax. You’re taking ‘em on a date, not negotiating world peace.”

Connor frowns. “This date is a crucial step in our courtship. I want to make a good impression.” Hank groans. “Don’t call it a courtship, this isn’t the 1800s. Besides, they asked you out. Your weird, let’s call ’em quirks, must’ve somehow already made a good impression.”

Connor nods slowly, taking in Hank’s words. “Thank you, Hank.” He gives him a smile that looks more like a grimace, then pats Connor’s shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the door. “Yeah, yeah. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

On the bus, Connor finds himself staring out the window. His thoughts drift, frightfully naturally, to you.

The first time you met you’d been reading at a café. Hank had sent him in to get him a coffee and he hadn’t been able to stop staring at you while in line. You had noticed.

The way you smiled at him still makes it feel like there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering about in his mechanical stomach. Somehow, you got to talking, and you kept talking. He can’t seem to get enough of you.

And now here he is.

Going on a date.

His first.

He stands in front of your door, hand raised to ring the bell. There is a moment of hesitation, hand hovering in front of the button before he presses it. The wait, though only seconds, makes his thirium pump work overtime.

Then you open the door, and Connor’s mind goes blank. You’re radiant. “Hello.” You say. There is a giddiness to your voice that he can’t get enough of.

“Hello…” Connor manages. He forgets how to speak for half a second. Oh! compliment. Connor thinks. Compliment them.

“You look… perfect.” Your smile grows. “Thank you. So do you.” You glance him up and down, and Connor’s temperature sensors spike. He’s sure there is a blue hue decorating his cheeks now.

Connor blinks, trying to rid himself of his flusteredness. “I brought you flowers.” He holds them out, suddenly very aware of his body. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You lean in slightly, brushing your fingers over his as you take them. “Let me get a vase. Come in!”

Connor sheepishly follows you inside, watching you disappear into the kitchen. “So~” You call as you fill up a vase. “Where are you taking me?”

Connor steps closer, leaning on your countertop in an attempt at appearing casual. “Hank advised me to keep it simple. So, dinner and a movie. My research confirms that this is an ideal first date format because-”

“That sounds great." You cut the start of his ramble off with a reassuring laugh. "Lead the way.”

Stage 1: Success.

The diner is warm and buzzing with chatter. The scent of coffee and warm food fills your nose as you enter. You get seated into a cozy booth, just the two of you.

You tilt your head as Connor chews a bite of his burger. “I didn’t know androids could eat.” You suddenly state, a curious glint in your eyes.

“It’s not eating, exactly. Anything I swallow is stored in a special compartment. I’ll have to empty it later. I gain no energy from eating, so it’s purely for aesthetic purposes. To seem more human, I suppose.” Connor elaborates. “That’s really interesting.” You take a sip of your drink. “Can you taste?”

Connor nods. “Yes. I have taste receptors, though they are stronger than a humans’, I could tell you every ingredient, who made it, and what utensils and appliances were used.”

Your eyes widen. “No way.” Connor chuckles. “Would you like a demonstration?” You laugh. “Maybe after dessert.”

For desert Connor orders one milkshake, two straws. Your faces are close enough together for you to count his freckles. The milkshake is rich and sweet and cold, though the moment itself is warm and just as sweet.

Stage 2: Success.

The movie Connor had chosen is a rerun of a classic romance you once mentioned you liked. You were surprised he remembered. He was surprised you were surprised.

Halfway through the film, you notice a shift beside you. You look beside you to see Connor do a comically fake yawn as he stretches his arm to go over your shoulder. You smile to yourself and lean into him.

Connor smiles too, his blue blush hidden in the dark. He leaves his arm where it is, only partially able to focus on the movie now.

After the movie, the sky’s opened up. You come outside to find it’s raining. The soft and steady precipitation paints the sidewalk a darker shade of gray. Connor notices you shiver. Without thinking, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

You smile, making Connor’s knees feel weak. “Thank you.” You walk slowly, quietly discussing the movie as he walks you home. When you reach your door, you stop and turn, facing him.

“How did you enjoy our first date?” Connor can’t stop himself asking. Instead of answering, you lean in and press a lingering kiss on his cheek. “It was perfect.” you murmur.

First Date: Mission Successful.

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Thank you for reading <3