#tfatws joaquin x you

[goosewriting]

I just read all your Joaquin stuff!! You write him perfect so great job! I love it so much ! If possible could you do either your both ditching eachother up after a fight (supper fluffy) or something along the lines of reader not being able to breath (either health issue or injury ) and then having to deal with that. No pressure if you don’t have time !!

(Not) Doctor's Orders

summary: Joaquín and reader tend to each other’s wounds after a mission.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) mention of blood, description of injuries and treating them, kisses, innuendos

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i’m gonna assume instead of “ditching” you meant “stitching” each other up? why, you’ve read my mind dear anon, for that trope is one of my absolute most favouritetest<33 the “super fluffy” aspect kinda got away from me tho and it ended up way more suggestive than intended :’v hope you’ll like it nonetheless!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

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After a mission abroad, you’re sent to a safe house nearby instead of flying back to HQ immediately. All in all, the mission went great, except that you got shot. The bullet didn’t fully hit you, luckily; it just nicked your leg. But it still took off a chunk of flesh, and it hurts.

Your arm is around Joaquín’s shoulders as he holds up part of your weight, helping you walk. When you make it through the door, you let your bags fall in the hallway; you’ll take care of it later. The house is pretty small, and you enter into the main room, serving as both the living and dining area, with a kitchenette on the other side. He crosses the space and brings you to the bathroom, setting you down on the edge of the bathtub.

Joaquín takes out the first aid kit from underneath the sink and you both shrug off your jackets and the bulletproof vests you were wearing underneath, tossing everything to the side. You inspect your leg and hiss when you brush over the wound, going straight across your mid-thigh. He kneels down before you, his hands hovering over it, but he stops, looking up at you.

“Can I take it off?” he asks, the slightest tremble in his voice. Heat spreads on your face, and you mentally curse at yourself for the reaction. You’ve been crushing on Joaquín for a while, and you’re pretty sure he feels the same. This is really not how you pictured how undressing for the first time would go. When you don’t immediately respond, he’s quick to add, “Sorry, no need. I’ll just cut them open.”

But you stop him from getting the scissors from the kit by placing your hand on his, and his movements halt instantly, his eyes shooting up to meet yours.

“No, don’t,” you say, quickly retracting your hand. Another wave of heat prickling on your cheeks. “I– I don’t have a change of pants.”

Lifting yourself off the tub with a hiss, you pull down the garment to your knees, and he helps you get them off completely. There’s a slight dust of dark pink on his cheeks and ears, but he tries to mask it with concern and focus at the sight of your wound. Without wasting a second, he starts cleaning it. When he applies the disinfecting spray, you take a sharp breath through your teeth, your whole body tensing at the sting.

“Sorry,” Joaquín mutters, taking out the sterile needle and thread from its packaging. “Ready?”

You nod, and when he pierces through your skin, the pain makes you slump forward slightly, holding onto his shoulder opposite to the stitching hand for support. He works with his brows slightly furrowed, trying his best to get this done as quickly and painless as possible. To distract yourself from the pain, you study his face, the bridge of his nose, the moles sprinkled on his cheeks and chin, the deep chocolate swirls in his eyes. It dawns on you that Joaquín is kneeling in front of you between your legs, and the thoughts that follow make you quickly look away from him, focusing on the generic brand shampoo bottle in the corner instead.

“Done,” he finally announces, cutting the last bit of thread after tying a knot. After putting one final plaster over it, he straightens up a bit, almost rising to your eye level. You let go of his shoulder, intending to hold onto the edge of the tub. However, he gently takes your arm in his hands, inspecting it further for injuries. Then he does the same to your other arm. Finally, he looks around you to check your back. Once he’s satisfied that there are no other big wounds that need his attention, he grabs a clean rag and fully stands up to turn toward the sink. After drenching it and wringing out the extra water, he turns back to you, gingerly holding your face in his hands as he looks down at you, and you can’t help but melt at his touch. He’s handling you with such care, it makes your whole body buzz with warmth, your heart incessantly thumping against your ribcage. 

You close your eyes so he can wipe over them, getting rid of all the dust and dried blood from the little cut on your forehead. Over that one he places a small band-aid, then his hand rests under your chin again to make you look up.

“There, that’s better,” he says with a small smile, and his voice is so soft, so intimate, you fear you might pass out right there. When he drops his hand, you immediately miss his touch.

“What about you?” you ask.

Joaquín looks down at himself, placing his hands on different parts of his body as if to check if they hurt.

“I got out unscathed, I think,” he says, and you rise a brow at him. You lean forward slightly and snake your arm around him to softly poke him in the back, and he flinches with an ‘ouch!’

“Unscathed, my ass. You got shot,” you remark, remembering all too well how a stray bullet had found him. Luckily, you were both wearing your bulletproof gear. 

Your eyes widen slightly as Joaquín grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and taking it off. You try no to stare too obviously. Really, you try. But then he turns around to look at himself in the mirror, and you spot the dark bruise already forming on his back where the bullet had impacted. Before you can help yourself, your hand reaches out, your fingertips softly tracing over the purplish skin. His eyes meet yours through the mirror.

“Well, my professional medical diagnosis is that you don’t need stitches for that,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. You’re not sure what it is, if it’s the twinkle in Joaquín’s eyes or the amount of exposed skin or the fact that either of you could have died today, but a burst of confidence bubbles up within you, and you intend to take advantage of it. “But you know what they say the best medicine is,” you add as you lean forward, then place a soft kiss to the bruise. You hear him gasp in surprise.

As you lean back again, you don’t dare look at him. Surely by now your whole face is on fire. Your whole body certainly is. In fact, you almost can’t feel your wounds or the ache in your bones, your whole focus on the man in front of you.

For a moment, Joaquín doesn’t move, and the warmth you felt earlier quickly dissipates, replaced by a cold panic that spreads from your gut into your limbs. You’ve overstepped. You’ve ruined everything. He never liked you back, it was all in your head. Your mind reels as you try to find the words to apologise for your actions. But before you can think of anything, he slowly comes back down to his knees in front of you, the deepest and most adorable blush you’ve seen on him yet adorning his cheeks and ears, all the way down to his collarbones. 

“Best medicine, you say,” he repeats your words, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes shyly find their way to yours. “I think I could use some more of that.”

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears at his words. The implication sends a flutter through your gut that spreads into your whole body.

“Where?” you ask, breathless.

Joaquín points to a cut on his shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours, and you lean in again, your lips ghosting over the spot. Then he points to a scratch on his arm, and you place another featherlight kiss. This goes on for a while, where he wordlessly points to different parts of his body, his chest, his arms, and you kiss it better.

Then one of his hands finds your good leg, staying on the outside of your thigh, and you think you’ll combust on the spot. His skin coming in contact with yours sends a series of sparks through your nerves and up your spine, eliciting a small gasp from you. 

“Here,” he whispers, his free hand pointing to his throat, right next to his Adam’s apple. Your own hands come up, a bit shaky, and hold his face as you leave a trail of small kisses from where he pointed, all the way up to his cheekbone. He lets out a shuddering breath, looking at you through half lidded eyes when you pull back. 

“Anywhere else?” you ask, but you can’t even finish your question as his lips finally come crashing onto yours, and once the initial surprise is gone, you tilt your head and sigh into the kiss. His lips move with urgency against yours, the hand on your leg sliding to your waist and pulling you to him, the other cradling the back of your head. You reciprocate as best as you can, given you feel like you’ve entirely lost control of your body. When he breaks for air, both of you panting heavily, it's his turn to leave a trail of kisses on your throat.

“The good thing about this medicine,” you say between breaths as he leaves wet kisses on your pulse point. “Is that it works both ways.”

Joaquín snorts, stopping what he’s doing to pull back and look up at you.

“Yeah?” he says, slightly out of breath, then his gaze darkens a bit. “I can think of another… treatment, too. To make you feel better.” Your heart skips several beats at his words.

“Well, it might be a while until we can see a proper doctor,” you say as you softly rake your fingers through his hair, and he hums at the sensation. “Might as well take every precaution.”

Joaquín gets back up to his feet, carefully picking you up under your legs and around your back from the tub, and you hold onto his shoulders. As he brings you to the bedroom, you don’t even look back at the mess you left in the bathroom, completely lost in his eyes. You’ll take care of that tomorrow.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

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[cosmicwavelengths]

staring problem

pairing: avenger! bucky barnes x physical therapist! reader summary: you’ve been working with sam, joaquin, and bucky for the past few months, and you couldn’t help but notice how bucky just… stares. (based off of dialogue from the falcon and the winter soldier: “does he always just stare like that?” “you get used to it.” and “you’re doing the staring thing again.” + more)

a/n: hello and welcome to my first one shot! i saw captain america: brave new world last week and it was tremendous! i went back and watched the falcon and the winter soldier and it inspired me to write this fic. i've been pretty excited to share this, so i hope you enjoy! likes and reblogs are always appreciated forehead kiss

comments/tags: ca:bnw (spoilers!), fluff, bucky barnes is a 106 year old grumpy ass, bucky has a staring problem (quite severely), physical therapist/trainer f! reader, sam wilson, joaquin torres, bucky doesn’t hate joaquin here but he has a youthful energy that old man barnes finds mildly exhausting (sometimes), there’s technically a girthy age gap between bucky and reader (probably 60-80 years) but bucky can’t help that so we will collectively ignore it, strangers-to-lovers except bucky is just Confused, no y/n use

cw: mentions of alcohol (drinking, reader getting drunk), sebastian stan’s intense glare (swoon), kissing, language (bucky has a potty mouth)

wc: 3.9k | masterlist | ao3 ────୨ৎ────

In his 106 or so years, you were the first person who Bucky Barnes met that genuinely perplexed  him. And he couldn’t exactly put his finger on why.

During his over-extended life, he prided himself on his ability to read people and understand their intentions almost immediately. Maybe he’s a cynic, but he finds it to be much easier to organize the recurring figures of his life into different areas of his mind. Of course, there’s the rare individual that Bucky genuinely likes, such as Sam. And with others he tolerates, like Joaquín. But you? He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt. And if Bucky was being honest with himself, it scares him.

Considering he already knows almost everything about you, it’s almost frustrating how little Bucky truly knows you. Sure, Joaquín sat you all down as a group to discuss their new physical therapist. Similar to Joaquín in age, graduated from college not too long ago,, has significant experience with working with service men. You’ve been working with them for nearly six months already, and Bucky has yet to properly assess where you sit in his brain.

Whenever you entered the room -- any room, you had a certain energy. Maybe it’s the way you carry yourself, but you seem to have this natural ability to alter the space around you in some way. Your teeth and eyes seemed to sparkle, the way they open up so wide to greet him and the others at the beginning of each training session.

“Does he always just stare like that?” you inquire quietly, leaning over to Sam as you create a hamstring out of a roll of kinesiology tape. You subtly nudge your arm in the general direction where Bucky stood next to the weight rack.

Sam chuckles, “You get used to it.” You shrug in response, putting your head down and continuing to wrap the tape around his calf. “He might be a bionic staring machine, but he’s been through a lot. It’s just how he is, I wouldn’t take it personally,” he smiles down at you. Making a quick glance in his direction, Bucky continues to stare pointedly, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Intimidating. You suppose any regular person would be skeeved out under such intense pressure, but it makes you rather demure. Even though you’re looking in his direction, he continues to look at you with his intense eyes. You’d think that most people would stop after being noticed, especially since you’ve caught him staring at you more than twice, but he continues with his piercing gaze anyways. 

Since Sam had decided to rebuild the Avengers, you had been brought in as their physical therapist. If you were honest, you weren’t exactly sure why superheroes of all people needed physical therapy, with what cutting edge technology and medicine they have at their disposal, but it pays well and you can’t complain about that in this economy.. Since starting, you’ve already become relatively close with Sam and Joaquín. But Bucky…

…Well, judging by the way he’s practically staring through you, you’d be safe in assuming that he hates you or something. You’ve not really had a chance to have a full fledged conversation with him. You helped him stretch, applied kinesio tape when asked. Within your first few days here, you surmised that he was just a private person. But, you’ve seen the quick smiles he flashed at Sam and the occasional short conversation with Joaquín. You normally don’t take these things too personally, but the people pleaser side of you tends to rear its ugly head. Aside from that, there was something about Bucky that made you want him to like you at least a little bit. You’ve tried your best to be friendly to him during your brief interactions, but he didn’t seem to have much of an interest in conversing with you past exchanging pleasantries. Even though it hurts a little, it’s just how some of these jobs go, after all, you can’t expect to be friends with all your clients. But his nearly constant staring at you is… menacing.

“I just don’t think he’s taken to me that well,” you breathe, finishing the wrap on his quad and cutting away the excess tape with scissors. “He doesn’t seem to like talking to me… or like me, at all.”

“It’s not you,” Sam reassures gently. “Give him some time to open up.”

--

“Y’know, you probably scare her with how much you stare at her like that.”

Bucky re-racked the weights with much more force than he wanted, causing the weights to make a heavy clunk sound against the metal, making her and Sam’s heads snap over in their direction. Shit.

Bucky looks at Joaquín and frowns. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dude, you have something of a staring problem,” says Joaquín. “Do you know that? It’s important to us that you know that. You have zero tact.”

Bucky grumbles under his breath in response, turning back to the weight rack to select a heavier dumbbell. “At least say something to her when we go out later? You can tell it bothers her,” Joaquín offers with a smile. Bucky steps back from the rack, preparing for his next set. “Stay out of my business, Torres.”

“This seems like a very unnatural problem for someone like you to have. Maybe we should call Wakanda, tell them that our cyborg puppet has stopped working and is in urgent need of recalibration.”

“Fuck off.”

--

The bar is loud. Far too loud for Bucky’s taste as he enters the establishment with Sam. Had it been up to him, he would have picked his usual quiet spot near his apartment. But, it is her six month anniversary of working with the guys, and Bucky wasn’t going to miss a chance to drink for free on Sam’s tab. Bucky stuffs his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket, scanning the many faces around the room. Keep an eye out for any potential threats…

“Well?” Sam asks, turning to Bucky and breaking him out of his concentration. Bucky’s jaw tightens, “Don’t you and Torres know better than to be in my business?” he says, crabbily. Sam shrugs his shoulders, hands out in defense. “Hey! I just want you to be happy, man. Just think about what Torres said, maybe?” He steps back from Bucky with a smile, clapping his hand against Bucky’s shoulder before approaching Joaquín at the bar. And there you are, sitting next to Joaquín, shining like the stars and moon… yet unsteady. Your warm expression grows upon seeing Sam, pulling him into a tight hug. What the hell, sure, Bucky ponders briefly before stalking up to the only open space in the bar and ordering a beer.

“Sam!” you answer excitedly, throwing your arms around him in a warm hug. He reciprocates in kind, saying a quick greeting during the embrace. “Wo-oah there!” Sam teases, “Has Joaquín here been filling you up with drinks here?” He gestures to the glassware that you and Joaquín collected, lightly crowding the bar surface.

“Hey, look, it’s a cheat night for all of us, and more importantly, her six month work anniversary!” Joaquín reminds Sam with a laugh. “Yes, tonight is all about me, guys,” you tease, smiling lazily at them. You generally don’t make it a habit to engage with clients outside of the gym, but Sam and Joaquín had truly welcomed you to the team with open arms these last few months. It was truly kind of Sam to pick up the tab tonight, and you’d feel rude refusing.

You settle back into your barstool as Sam and Joaquín begin a conversation. You scan the many faces around the U-shaped bar until you notice Bucky standing there, waiting on his drink. He’s of average height, about six feet tall or so, yet he stands out among the others around him. He wears his infamous scowl as he toys with his leather gloves. You took care in noticing how the light of the bar catches his upper cheek bone and the top of his jawline by his ear. His brooding blue eyes as they scan the area round him. So intimidating… yet..

He glances up at you quickly, incidentally locking eyes with you across the bar. Your eyes grow wide, feeling smaller than you’ve ever felt before. It’s almost eerie the way he studies you, as if he is trying to memorize every atom and particle of your facial structure. You almost freeze under his watch, sobering up a little as you sit up straighter. Properly. You cast out your usual friendly gestures, an invitation -- a small smile and a shy wave of your finger tips. Maybe it’s your alcohol-muddled brain playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn that the corner of his lips turned ever so slightly upwards.

It felt like time stopped when Bucky noticed you. The small wisps of your hair caught by the lowlights above the bar, reaching to the bow of the lips that once held a grin. Your wide eyes holding a sparkle of light. How he can see the way your skin flushes due to your alcohol consumption. Bucky finds it adorable the way you lightly smile at him, waving your hand gently. He sees the way you’re a bit wobbly, having to lean against the bar to keep things steady. He couldn’t help but be amused. His attention is torn away by the bartender setting down the beer bottle in front of him. Bucky fishes for cash in his pocket, setting it in the man’s hand and finally approaching the group.

He stuffs his beer-less hand deep into his jacket pocket as he stops next to Sam. He claps his hand on Bucky’s shoulder in greeting, Bucky acknowledges him with a slight nod of his head. “Bucky!” Sam exclaims, gesturing to the group. “Welcome. We were wondering when you’d show up!” Bucky looks at him with a tired expression. “Lost track of time at the gym,” he mumbles. “Likely story,” Joaquín laughs, before being cut short by Bucky nudging him sharply with his flesh elbow, using a bit more force than necessary.

--

Minutes pass. Then an hour. Two hours. Rounds of drinks later, you all lapse into steady conversation telling lively stories of the past, previous jobs, missions, interactions with other superheroes. You and Joaquín chortle together loudly at Sam’s seemingly endless stream of stories and jokes, while Bucky resigns himself to polite nods as he sips on his beer. The initial lively crowd of the bar had died down to the regular crowd, who’d delegated themselves to chatting amongst themselves, playing darts and shooting pool.

Several vodka cranberries in, your face and hands feel oddly numb, and the room spins more than usual. Shame on you for thinking you can match Joaquín drink for drink. Sam and Joaquín throw back the last of their drinks before heading off to the pool tables. Bucky stares off at them as they apply blue chalk to the tips of their cue sticks, ready to begin a match.

Turning towards Bucky, you prop yourself up against the bar, cheek in hand. You attempt to mock the way he stares at you, to make him feel how you’ve felt all these months.

“So,” you hiccup, interrupting yourself with a shy giggle. “What’s your deal?” You mockingly raise an eyebrow. “What’s your damage, Bucky? What is it about me you don’t like?” It slips out so easily. You should be embarrassed, but you’re far too gone.

Bucky sits up straight, giving you an unsure glance. That’s new. “I’m not sure what you--.”

“And you’re doing that staring thing again, that thing you do with me,” you comment, words slurring slightly as you gesturing unsteadily in Sam and Joaquín’s direction. “When you look at me like that, I can’t tell if ‘ya like or hate me!”

“Y’know, maybe I’m a people pleaser or sumthin’, but I-I really want you to like me, I think,” you sigh. Shrugging comically, you throw back the rest of your drink sitting on the bar. Leaning over, you clap your hand over his large gloved one. Bucky freezes, suddenly being hyper aware of what you’re doing and how small your hand feels compared to his. “And y’know what else? I don’t even mind when you stare at me like that. It’s almost as hot as it is intimidating.”

Bucky was warm -- not from the alcohol. He knows he can’t really get drunk anymore due to the serum, but he still feels the sweat from his palms against the smooth leather interior of his padded globes. And again, he states. Wide eyed at the flushness that cascaded down her cheeks to her collar bones. She fully lost herself in a fit of uncontrollable giggles, leaning against the bar again, not even knowing what you’re doing to him.

He wants to look everywhere all at once, eyes darting. Your bright, round lips stained with cranberry juice and the remnants of your lip gloss. The small beads of sweat by your temples and the crown of your hair. Your smooth thighs, sparkling in certain spots from the cold  of your glass. Bucky was truly rendered speechless. Not that he usually speaks much. Not that he was able to get much of a word in with you beforehand. But this time, he feels truly stumped. So, naturally, he did what any former brainwashed assassin turned semi-normal guy would do. With every ounce of charisma and bravado that a man like him could gather, he took one last look at her and drank the last bit of his beer. “Excuse me,” he said with a voice he was unfamiliar with, and turned around to walk out of the bar. And kept walking. All the way home.

--

Sleep is elusive to Bucky, who had spent the previous night drifting in and out of light sleep. He usually takes this as a sign to get an early start of the day, maybe go for a long run or walk outside.

He rises, making his way to the bathroom.. Squeezing out toothpaste, Bucky couldn’t help but reflect upon the event of the previous night. The sound of your gleeful, drunken laugh. How the warmth radiated off of your body. He can just barely recall the ghostly weight of your hand on the back of his. Even through his thick gloves, you may as well have burned him.

As Bucky splashes water on his face, he concludes that maybe a run wasn’t what he needed. The subway station was right outside of the bar on East Houston Street, yet he elected to walk two hours back home to his apartment in Brooklyn instead. He’d hoped that walking over the Manhattan Bridge in the middle of the night would turn out to be somewhat therapeutic, yet he was still unable to shake the memory of you at the bar. 

Letting out a deep breath, he takes a moment to sit on the couch and put his boots on. Standing, he shrugs on his leather jacket and reaches for the gloves in his pocket. Gloves you touched, he recalls, feeling uncharacteristically giddy about it. Heading out the door, he hopes that this early morning workout will help him clear his head.

--

It is far too early to wake up today, especially after having a night out like that. You awake with a raging headache, an unsettled stomach, and an aggressive thought of what the fuck did you do. As you lie there, gazing at your slowly spinning ceiling fan, you start to feel each and every one of the drinks. Groaning, you sit up, clutching your stomach in an attempt to settle yourself and you are quickly reminded of the conversation you had with Bucky. At that, you shoot up far quicker than you should, running to the toilet to rid yourself of the contents of your stomach and regrets from last night. Sigh.

You couldn’t believe that you had said that, feeling waves of embarrassment. You normally wouldn’t push yourself that far with the drinks, much less with the boundaries of a client. Grimacing, you reach up to the counter, feeling for a towel to wipe your face of sweat and residual make-up. Turning on the faucet, you cup water into your hands to drink and splash your face with cold water. Approaching your closet, you preemptively mourn one of the best jobs you’ve ever had. Every fiber of your being begs you to return to bed and wallow in self pity, but you think it’s best that you get to the gym early for a quick workout. Sweat out the hangover, you think bitterly. Your head lightly pounds when you make a sudden movement. Bringing your hand to your forehead, you realize this is going to be one long day.

Entering the compound, you hear the sound of a treadmill running and rhythmic steps in accompaniment. It would be good to see Sam or Joaquín, figuring that one of them decided to work off the alcohol consumed last night. But since you are, evidently, not God’s favorite, running on the treadmill is someone you’d rather avoid right now. And there’s Bucky Barnes, shirtless and sweating as he jogs on the machine. Your eyes follow his dog tags dangling from his neck, bouncing rhythmically against his skin. He heaves gently, hair flopping with each step. 

Even though you stopped in your tracks, he had already felt your presence and began slowing down. Bucky steps off the treadmill, collecting his water and patting his forehead with a small towel he brought. You figure it’s best to just talk and not dance around the topic. He didn’t seem like the type to beat around the bush. You breathe shakily before approaching him.

“Hi, Bucky,” you say, tone laced with nerves.. “Look, about last night—”

“Hey, it’s fine.” he interjects accidentally, cutting you off. He raises a gentle hand of reassurance. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Your shoulders relax a bit, knowing that there was maybe a small chance that he wouldn’t tell Sam or Joaquín about your interaction. “Thank you, it’s just that I rarely go out with clients like that, nor do I drink that heavily.” You shift lightly on your feet, fumbling with your water bottle. “I didn’t mean to be unprofessional or cross any boundaries. I just hope that we could maybe move past this, pretend like it didn’t happen?” Smiling, you look up at the taller man, eyes filled with hope. He himself shifts on his feet, “Oh, I didn’t realize we were just clients to you.” You look down with embarrassment, searching for a response. “Uh, I didn’t mean any offense—”

“I’m just teasin’, sweetheart,” the nickname rolling smoothly off his tongue with a smile. A smile. “Did you really mean what you said, though? About me staring?” Drunk words are sober thoughts, he recalls to himself, having learned the phrase from Torres. You flush, suddenly taking interest in the top of your water bottle rather than the man in front of you. Him speaking with you, much less jokingly is more than foreign territory for you. “I-I mean,” you sputter out, self consciousness taking charge. “I wouldn’t mind being friends with you, of course, I try my best to be friendly with the people I work with.” He takes a step closer. “Now, you and I both know that that’s not the part we are talking about.” Your breath hitches. You take in how you feel crowded by him. He’s not exactly within your personal space. Yet.

“Really, I’m the one that should be apologizing.” Bucky says, loosening up. With a sigh, he starts: “I’m sorry to have kept you at arms length all this time. It’s rather difficult for ‘someone like me,’” he dramatically emphasizes with air quotes, “to ‘nurture friendships.’” So says my therapist, he thinks with an internal eye roll. “What’s wrong with me isn’t your fault. I’m just old and cynical.” He pats the outside of your arm in reassurance. You smile, feeling the spot grow warm under his touch. “For the record, I don’t exactly mind that you called me hot, either,” he casually notes. “It’s certainly better than the other reactions I tend to get.” You didn’t think it was possible to blush harder, feeling the warmth creep down your chest. Fuck, you were hoping he wouldn’t mention that part specifically, but you can roll with it. “Well, I do pride myself on being honest, I guess,” you chuckle nervously trying to play it off as cool.

“Y’know, since I had met you, I had been so confused on what to think of you. In all my life, I had never met anyone that was able to do that to me.” His voice darkens. “Care to clue me in as to why?” You feel stuck again, just how you felt last night when he was staring you down at the bar. You attempt to nervously mutter out a response, which instead leaves your mouth gaping open. He closes in on your space, you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. He glances down at your curved lips, light pink and glistening, then back into your doe eyes. “Please, sweetheart, it drives me crazy when you look at me like that,” he uses the nickname again, making your mind spin and your knees a bit weak. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

His eyes drop to your lips again as you stand there, stupefied. His eyes drift downwards to your lips and you almost feel like crumbling under the sudden pressure. He closes in again, sneaking his hands around your waist to pull you in closer. You’re both suspended in silence for a beat, and you think your heart would stop until he continues. “I don’t mean to make things weird, but maybe I like the way you fluster when I look at you.  I’ve been alive for a long, long time, and you’re the first person I’ve met that’s made me feel this way.”

Before you were aware of his movements, he closed the distance. Your eyes flutter shut as you take in the softness of Bucky’s lips, moving slowly and calculating over your own. His grip tightens on your waist, and you feel how the tips of his fingers press into your skin, making your mind go white. You press your body closer to him, breathing heavily as you press your lips against his. He pulls away when he feels your knees buckle gently, chuckling. “Careful, doll. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” You shake your head in an effort to come to and give him a response. “N-no, It’s fine, you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.” 

“Good,” he replies, voice darkening. He laughs again, causing you to giggle with him and lean in again.

“You do have a staring problem, though,” Sam chides through the speaker of Red Wing. Thecombat drone floats into your line of sight, hovering menacingly over Bucky’s shoulder. You jump back away from Bucky as if you were burned, feeling embarrassed. Bucky sighs exasperatedly, leaning against the treadmill and shaking his head. “By the way, thanks for finally taking our advice! I have all of that on camera, you know that, right?”

Bucky rolls his eyes with a huff. “Get out of my face, Sam, or I’ll break it.”

[petertingle-yipyip]

MISS POSSESSIVE - JOAQUIN TORRES

Pairing: Joaquin x Reader // Word Count: 2,061

Summary: So what if you were a little possessive? No one got hurt. (fun fact: the biting story is a true story)

Your relationship with Joaquin was no secret.

You two didn’t necessarily shove it down everyone’s throats, but you didn’t hide anything either. You arrived at most trainings together, sat next to and against each other, went to lunch together, left together. The only time you were really apart was when he went on a mission with Sam and you went with your recon team.

You noticed the new set of eyes in the training center one day. You were doing your planned solidcore routine while Joaquin did weights on the other side of the center.

You saw her when you took a break between exercises. You sat flat on the machine’s pad and breathed deeply, glancing around the relatively empty center. You and Joaquin were there, as part of your usual schedule, along with Nat and Yelena sparring in the far corner. Kate was doing some yoga routine with the blonde that was actively staring at Joaquin, who was oblivious as he began a set of lat pulldowns.

You stared at your boyfriend for a moment as well. Admittedly, the blonde had a fair excuse to stare, and she was new. Or you hadn’t met her at least. Maybe she didn’t know.

You pushed a headphone aside, ready to snap at her, when Kate smacked her friend’s arm. You could barely hear her say to pay attention and that he was taken. Kate met your eyes a moment later and she offered you a thumbs up with a nod, a not-so-subtle confirmation that she had your back.

You smiled at her as you chuckled. Replacing your headphones, you went back to suffering through solidcore.

Later that week, in a more packed training center, Joaquin’s newest fan was watching him again. You two were jogging the track and conversating, and he decided to show off and jog backwards. You caught the woman over his shoulder and you fixed a glare in her direction. Her eyes met yours and she changed from basically undressing Joaquin in her head to daring you to stop her.

“Hello?” He waved a hand in front of your face and your attention slid back to him. “What was that?” He was smirking slightly.

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m not gonna fall.”

“You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m not gon-“ He began before nearly tripping over his own feet.

His arms flailed slightly and you caught him, which caused you to stumble with him. You couldn’t help the laugh as he righted and you two resumed your easy pace.

“Don’t tell Sam.” He said quickly.

“I already saw!” Sam called from the other side of the track.

Joaquin groaned in embarrassment and you nudged him slightly with your elbow. He frowned dramatically at you and you giggled before jerking your chin, daring him to keep up as you increased your stride.

By the end of that week, his watcher had built up some courage.

You were at the cubbies near the door, rifling through your bag for your sparring gloves. Joaquin was leaning against the wall near the cubbies, casually mentioning how he had his already and you were putting your session behind. You mocked him quietly as you dumped the contents of your bag on the floor.

“You set me up.” You blamed him.

“Me?” He laughed. “I’d never do such a thing.”

“Yes you would, because you know I can kick your ass.”

He sighed dramatically and knelt beside you to help you look. You filtered through your scattered items while he checked the zippered pockets. He was the one to find them, which only added on to his guilt in your mind, and you shoved everything back away.

He offered you his hand to get up and you made a show of your reluctance as you took it. He laughed, pulled you to his chest, and kept you close with an arm over your shoulders.

She wasn’t there when you two began your session. You would’ve felt those baby blue eyes following. By the time you were taking a break, she was there, lingering at the edge of the sparring area. She pretended to be focused on her own workout  when Joaquin glanced in her direction but she didn’t hide her blatant stare when you looked at her.

You didn’t give a warning before storming over. You knelt to be at her level and she propped herself up on her elbows. She opened her mouth but you cut her off.

“Funny how you think I don’t notice the way you undress him with your eyes almost everyday.” You said flatly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She rolled her eyes.

“Look at the floor. Or the ceiling. Or anyone else in this place. Just keep your eyes off him.” You forced a smile that was anything but friendly. “Got it?”

“I’m so scared.” She said sarcastically, craning her neck to see around you.

“Listen. I can only be nice about this for so long. Some fights you’re not gonna win. And him?” You nodded towards him once. “No way.”

“May the best woman win then.” She shrugged and returned to her sit ups.

You kicked her braced feet away before heading back to Joaquin, earning a muttered “bitch” as you left. His brows furrowed but you waved him off. With a new anger in your veins, you knew you’d hit someone you shouldn’t soon, which made the next portion of your sparring more intense than necessary.

You were both covered in sweat by the time you were done. You had also both removed your shirts by then. Your muscles were burning with the effort and you assumed Joaquin’s were too, but by the way he was talking your ear off you wouldn’t have guessed.

“You’re pretty chatty.” You teased with a grin.

“You wouldn’t let me get a word in over there!” He sounded offended as he threw a hand towards the sparring area. “Anytime I tried to talk, you pounced.”

“I pounced?” You laughed. “What am I, a cat?”

“A feral one.” He muttered and you smacked his arm before you both laughed. “Definitely feral.”

“If I was feral, I’d bite.”

“You do!”

“I do not!”

“Didn’t you bite a kid in second grade?”

You whirled to face him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You know good and well that I had a good reason!” You defended.

His hands went up in surrender but the grin was still plastered on his face.

“I felt threatened.”

“And biting was the only answer?” He tried and failed to keep his laughter contained.

“Yes! I was playing my own game, he tried to make me the prisoner in his war game with some other kid. You don’t put your arm-“

“Around someone’s neck and not expect to get bit.” He finished and you glared lightly at him. “At least you didn’t get suspended.”

“I cried in the principal’s office because I was scared of getting in trouble.” You deadpanned. “I don’t think I ever apologized to the kid, though.”

“And you still went on that field trip.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “I’m so disappointed in you, Y/N/N.”

“Oh no, whatever will I do now?” You dramatically put your hands to your heart.

“Just don’t bite me.” He shrugged, which earned another smack to his arm.

“I left my water. Grab my bag?” You began backing away towards the sparring corner.

“Yeah.” He nodded and went towards your cubby.

As you were grabbing your bottle, Kate and Yelena were stepping into the square. Kate waved enthusiastically at you and Yelena held a fist towards you. You bumped your own against hers and smiled towards Kate.

“How’s it going?” You asked. “Feeling stronger?”

“Today’s the day.” Kate nodded firmly.

“Ha!” Yelena responded loudly and you turned. “You think you’ll beat me?”

“Okay, you say that like it’s a joke.” Kate frowned.

“Was it not?” Yelena laughed. “C’mon, Kate Bishop.”

“Why do you still do that? Stop saying my name like that!” Kate urgently whispered.

“I don’t know, Lena. She might.” You added. You gave Kate a once over glance and then nodded slightly. “Yeah, I think she actually has biceps now.”

“See?” Kate threw an arm towards you. “Wait a second.” She furrowed her brows.

“Staying to find out?” Yelena asked, bouncing side to side on the balls of her feet.

“No, Joaquin and I are gonna try to catch a movie.” You nodded towards where you left your boyfriend. “Just came back for my water.”

“Oh!” Kate announced. “That reminds me…”

“You’re stalling.” Yelena complained.

“It’s important!” Kate insisted then turned to you again. “Sorry about before. I tried to tell her.”

“The new girl?”

She nodded, almost looking embarrassed, but you shrugged.

“I told her today in the nicest way I could to back off.” You waved a dismissive hand.

“What if she didn’t get the memo?” Yelena asked, focusing on something over your shoulder.

“Oh shit…” Kate looked at the same thing behind you.

“What are you two-“ You mumbled and turned to see for yourself. “Oh.”

You crossed your arms and watched for a moment. Joaquin was sitting on the floor with the new girl kneeling beside him. They were involved in some sort of conversation and you were just glad he had put his shirt back on. She exaggerated a laugh and he was confused for a second. Apparently, what he said hadn’t been that funny.

“I think you should start planning your friend’s funeral, Kate Bishop.” Yelena said flatly as the blonde reached out and put her hand on Joaquin’s forearm.

“No, it’s…” You began.

You knew Joaquin. You knew his mannerisms and body language better than anyone. He didn’t care to be talking to this girl, not in the way she was trying to talk to him. He had his phone in one hand and judging by the way he kept looking down at it, he would’ve rather been scrolling than talking to her.

“You’re better than me.” Kate offered. “Two warnings and she still acts like that? Friend or not, I’d slap the hell outta her.” She laughed slightly.

Her other hand landed on his forearm and her other moved to his upper arm. Your brows rose and as if that expression sent a signal, Joaquin looked over towards you with wide eyes.

“Pray for her.” Kate said simply as you took long strides to get back to Joaquin.

He stood as you got closer and she bounced up beside him. She stepped closer, one of her hands on his shoulder and the other reached for his hand.

“Ready to go?” You made a point of only speaking to and looking at Joaquin.

“Yeah.” He sighed in relief and shifted to get away from her touch. “We leave now, we’ll have enough time to shower first.”

“Did you get the tickets already?”

“I thought you were going to stick around and spot me.” The blonde pouted.

“I’ve got ‘em.” Joaquin answered. “And your bag, m’lady.” He bowed slightly as he offered you your bag.

You laughed slightly and slung the strap over your shoulder.

“But Joaquin!” She cried, grabbing his hand with both of hers. He immediately pulled away and she pursed her bottom lip in another pout.

“He already said he’s busy.” You snapped. “Go see if Kate or Yel have time to babysit.”

“I didn’t realize you were his mommy.” She said sarcastically.

You turned to face her fully but Joaquin pulled on your bag to force you back a step. He tapped his knuckles against your thigh and you shifted your weight closer to him.

“Seriously.” You threatened. “Get your hands off my man.”

“Scared?”

“I’m gonna kill her.” You ground your teeth and looked to Joaquin.

Quickly, he put his arm around your shoulders and guided you out the doors. She called after him but you lifted your hand to give her the middle finger. After a string of curses were directed at you, Joaquin closed his hand over yours with a laugh.

“Told you.” Joaquin said proudly as he opened the passenger door for you.

“Told me what?” You raised a brow.

“Feral.” He grinned.

You opened your mouth to argue then closed it. Maybe he was right, at least where he was concerned.

Feral. Possessive. Protective. Same thing, right?

[happypopcornprincess]

Under the Same Sky

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.5K

Warnings: Some strong language, references to Pop Culture, allusions to SMUT

a/n - I wrote this while I was falling in love with someone. This one is for everyone who ever fell in love, hope you guys have a happy ending that you truly deserve <3

Click here for Part 2

“I swear to God Barnes, if this is some kind of dipshit prank you are playing on me, I’ll give your number to that sweet server lady from Yori’s Japanese place and record your introverted ass trying to strike a conversation.” You grumbled into your phone as you locked your door and walked down the stairs of yours (and Buck’s) apartment building.

After making you spill your morning coffee over the couch while telling you about him evading the country, breaking Helmunt Zemo out from prison, going to Madripor and Karli threatening Sam’s family, he had the goddamn audacity to ask for your help with the entire situation.

You were, of course, rushing to Louisiana for Sarah and the kids, because afterwards you get to murder him in cold blood.

“If this wasn’t for Sam’s family in danger, I would not have asked for you. And by the way, I am not an introvert. That’s you. Now hurry up, my guy’s waiting.” his annoyingly calm voice spoke through the phone.

“Is your guy about to be a wrinkly old pervert trying to get high by speed walking?” you almost screamed, reaching the ground floor and pulling open the back door towards the alleyway. The chill air makes you shiver a bit, and you find yourself colliding with a person, “oof” you hear a muffled sound coming from him.

“I’m so sorry- I-“ you began to explain yourself, but the other person spoke up first, “y/n?”

Your hand hovered over the concealed weapon on your waist, “uh, yeah?” you murmur, taking a step back in caution wondering how he knew your name.

“Yeah, I found her.” He speaks into his cell and cuts the call.

Dressed in casual clothes, he held a duffle bag in one hand, his eyebrows raised as he was looking at you. He smiled, waved at you, and Bucky spoke into your ear, “found my guy?”

“This is your guy?” you said pointing at him.

Bucky only laughed, “meet us in Louisiana. Take care y/n.” he cuts the call. Bucky’s guy was not a wrinkly old pervert, but this insanely good-looking man with great posture and a warm smile.

And to your horror, he was hot.

His warm, sun-kissed complexion hinted at his Mexican heritage. His hair added an air of rugged charm and you swore you never saw anyone with eyes so dark brown that drew you in instantly.

“You are…” you extend your hand after shoving your phone in the pocket of your overcoat.

“Lt. Torres.” He grimaced, embarrassed, “Joaquin. Joaquin Torres.” He extends his hand.

You shake his hand and oh god why are his hands so warm!

“Marines?” you ask, trying not to think about his hands.

“Air Force, ma’am.” He says, stepping back for you to get out of the doorway.

“Please, just call me y/n.”

You fumbled with your bag as he raised his eyebrows, “let me take that for you.” He offered.

“Oh no, no it's fine.” You laughed out, and he raised his arms in defeat.

He was walking to the end of the alley beside you, cold air escaping his lips.

Pink, soft, how would they feel on your lips and…

You concentrate on walking, trying not to look at him where his neck met his shoulders and goddammit what is wrong with you y/n can you stop daydreaming about this guy?

What you missed while giving yourself a pep talk… was the smirk on Joaquin’s face.

---

The initial car ride was a bit silent, awkward conversation hanging in the air. But then, like magic, the tension dissolved. You stumbled upon a shared love for Power Rangers and the cartoons of our youth. Suddenly, you were deep in conversation, reminiscing about your childhoods, carefree and filled with the magic of childhood. Turns out he isn’t much older than you, just a two year difference.

His laughter was infectious. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, his teeth flashing in a wide grin – it was a sound that felt warm and comforting, somehow. You found yourself leaning towards him, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile, the way the light caught the gold flecks in his eyes. The familiar road seemed to stretch on forever.

Finally when we pulled onto the familiar, deserted road leading to Sam's house, two small figures came into view, standing near the porch. 

“Auntie!” Cass and AJ sprinted to you as soon as you stepped out of the car.

“Heyyyy!” you laugh and fall back as they hug you with full force, “ugh, I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too!” AJ grinned as he refused to let go of you.

“Who's this?” Cass asked you, pointing towards Joaquin.

Among the excitement of meeting them, you almost forgot the poor guy. Joaquin stood next to the car awkwardly looking at you. You smile and introduce him, “guys this is my friend, Joaquin.”

“Hey.” He waved at Cass and AJ.

Cass looks at him with all seriousness, “Do you play Fortnight?”

Joaquin fumbled, “Yeah. A bit.”

“Cool.” They both replied in unison.

“Okay now let auntie breathe for a minute.” Sarah spoke as she walked towards you wearing an apron, clearly cooking for dinner.

You hugged her tight, meeting the family after so long, “Hey Sarah.”

You look towards Joaquin, how he was laughing with the kids. And then you look at Sarah, your soul sister, and how Bucky had asked you to break the news to her delicately, “Sarah, we need to talk.”

---

Sam and Sarah were your go to destination every summer. 

You saw Cass and AJ grow up after the blip, and stayed with them when they needed help. You might not have the same blood, but they were your family.

They have stayed away from all the mayhem, until now.

You three sat down on the kitchen table and told her everything that you knew about the situation.

“Dear lord.” Sarah sighed as she held your hand, “You think these people… they will come here?

“There is a possibility, but Sarah, I swear I won’t let anything happen, okay?” You squeeze her hand, “We’re here for you and the kids.”

Joaquin spoke up, “We have made arrangements just in case things go south, I’d suggest you to be ready to move anytime.”

“Okay.” looking at the kids playing in the living room, AJ laughing as Cass plays on the console, “I can’t let them be hurt again Y/N, they’ve been through so much.”

“I know.” You look at Joaquin, he gives you a smile and nods, a silent acknowledgement of the promise you were making to Sarah.

You will keep them safe, and Joaquin will be there for you.

---

Starry night sky, the cool lakeside breeze, and the slanted roof of the Wilson residence. 

You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes.

If this was six years ago, from the same spot you could hear Steve and Sam coming up with ideas to locate Bucky, Natasha and Clint in the backyard fighting over something stupid, Sarah and her late husband on the porch setting up the grill, and Wanda making things fly that made Baby AJ giggle.

You opened your eyes, but found only darkness ahead of you. That sliver of hope you had of watching your found family under one roof again was alive for five years… until the minute you saw Natasha didn’t return with Clint, Wanda not even looking in your direction at Tony’s funeral, and Steve going back in time without saying goodbye.

Your throat choked up trying not to cry as you recalled Natasha saving you from the hell called Red Room. She bought you up, taught you everything you know, she was the reason you were alive in the first place. Natasha was your sister in every sense, and she was taken away by fate.

Silently crying, you whisper a prayer off into the night.

“Is this seat taken?” you wiped off your eyes as you heard Joaquin.

He was standing on the attic window, two beers in hand. You shrug as he takes a seat next to you, handing you a beer.

“How did you find me?” you ask him.

“I didn’t actually,” he answers, “I just wanted a place to think for a while.” You notice the tension in his shoulders, he was trying too hard to act cool while something was clearly bothering him.

“Spit it out.” you nudge his shoulder with yours.

His deep brown eyes look at you as you take a sip, and he confesses, “I got a call before I came here. My Abuela.” He takes a deep breath, “She’s cooking up a feast for the local homeless shelter, and I know, I know she’s not well because her voice is raspy and she’s breathing too hard and I begged her to sit this one out, but she’s one stubborn woman, won’t even listen to her only grandson.”

You shock him with a laugh, looking at the dew on your bottle, “Sounds like someone I used to know.”

“Your ex?” he nudges your shoulder playfully.

You laugh, “My sister actually,” recalling flashes of red hair chasing you around the Avengers compound, “yeah, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

“She passed away a year ago.” You admit it out loud, it felt weird to talk about her in the past tense.

You feel his body go rigid beside you, “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s alright.” You look at him, and smile involuntarily, “Natasha was more of a mother to me than a sister, and I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud but… I miss her.”

He acknowledges you silently. But after some time, you hear it in his voice; the moment it hits him, “Natasha… as in… Natasha Romanoff?”

It made you laugh; his jaw wide open in shock, eyes wide. He looked like his eyes would come out of his head. “I don’t go by Y/N Romanoff, for people to react like that.” You point at him and he closes his mouth.

“How… I didn’t know… but you two-”

“- look different?” you bring your knees closer, wrapping your arms around them, “I was adopted.”

“ohhhh.” He drew out the exclamation, taking his sweet time not knowing what else to say.

“She saved me from the Red Room. Took me under the wing, sent me to High School… God knows how that went.” You laughed recalling the absolute menace you were during your teens. “If there was mischief in school, my name was somehow related. And Nat was always there to get me out of it. Except for that one time I blew up the toilets to rebel against the dress code… said I deserved getting suspended.” The fight you had afterwards… Steve and Tony had to interfere or else you both would have torn each other’s heads off.

“My mom once got a call from the local ER when I was twelve.” He spoke up, looking at the stars and a smile spreading on his face, “I drove my bike off of the road and straight into the canal, and hit my head pretty hard. She was mad as hell and Abuela won’t stop fussing about me. I was grounded for the entire semester, but every night we three would sit in the living room to watch whatever was on Cartoon Network.”

There was sadness laced in every word of his, “That was the last summer I had with her. She passed away a few months later.”

You could not say anything.

You knew exactly how he was feeling right this moment, that empty feeling inside your chest left behind after somebody’s gone. You silently hold his hand, acknowledging the hurt he must be going through.

“I must be the last person you want to hear this from, but, know that the hurt you’re feeling right now, y/n,” he gently grasps your hand, “it’s just all the love you have for the person you lost. I don’t want to say it gets easier, but you get better at letting it out over time.”

“Thank you, Joaquin.”

He smiles, taking a sip from his bottle glancing at you. Dark brown pupils looking right into yours.

Damn he’s pretty.

Your heart dropped a beat, a funny feeling in your chest unblurring the next second.

The first thing Natasha and Clint taught you was how to read people. You could tell what was going on in someone’s head just by looking at their subconscious cues. A voice in your head pointing out everything you need to know about them.

It was quite silly to be honest, that voice inside your head that had been quiet for a while now, was screaming at you for not looking at what was right in front of you…

You liked him.

---

“I was not expecting that.” You speak into Sam’s empty room, standing on the doorway with Joaquin.

Cass and AJ had separate rooms, Sarah had hers, and the only empty one was Sam's, which you were to share with Joaquin.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He says unprompted.

“No, no, Joaquin, we traveled for the entire day. We’re both tired. We can share the bed.” He was too tall to fit on the couch anyways.

 He picked his bags and settled in, “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. No worries.”

Worries, y/n, you’re not doing this out of goodwill. I mean… His arms? Just imagine how they would look wrapped around your-

You let out an internal scream and started unpacking your luggage before you did something scandalous, freshened up in the washroom and returned to the room to see him lying on one side of the bed, his back to you, wearing only sweatpants and a white vest. Your eyes were drawn straight to his biceps, they looked like they belonged to some sculpture in the dim lamplight.

Someone works out.

You immediately slapped a hand on your mouth realizing you said that out loud. Frozen with embarrassment, you waited to see if he heard that.

When you were certain he didn’t, you took your place on the other side, and were immediately knocked out by the exhaustion.

---

Next Day

You woke up to the smell of pancakes and the shouts of AJ and Cass from the backyard. You stretched out, thinking of any tasks you had to do today. You'd helped Sarah pack a go-bag yesterday and set up the alarms around the house. The only task left was to have a look at the Attic. The clutter filled there could be the best hiding spot for anyone.

After sniffing the smell of fresh pancakes for the second time, you couldn't resist any longer. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded downstairs.

Sarah and Joaquin were laughing in the kitchen, the sound warm and inviting. He was wearing an Air Force t-shirt over his sweatpants, his hair still damp from his shower, and a lazy smile playing on his lips. Of course he's a morning person, you thought, a pang of envy hitting you.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Sarah called out, her eyes twinkling.

Joaquin looked up, his smile widening as he saw you. You realized, with a jolt, that you were still in your Naruto pajamas, your hair a complete mess. Panic surged through you, but when you saw him smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, you relaxed slightly.

"Morning," you mumbled, taking a seat at the table.

"Joaquin made these," Sarah announced proudly, placing a plate of golden brown pancakes in front of you. "They're incredible."

"They are," you agreed, already taking a bite. "God bless you, Sarah, these are heavenly."

"Oh, that's all Joaquin," Sarah said, pouring you a tall glass of something. "I just made the milkshakes."

"Milkshakes!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening.

"Chocolate and caramel," she said, placing the glass in front of you. "With extra cream."

"Thank you!" You high-fived her, then turned to Joaquin. "And thank you, for the pancakes."

"Anytime," he said, taking a bite of his own pancake. He met your gaze, a slow, appreciative smile gracing his lips. You swore you saw a glint of something in his eyes – amusement? Admiration? Something more? You blinked, suddenly unsure of yourself.

Is my head playing tricks with me? you wondered, your heart pounding a little faster than it should be.

---

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm…”

“Uhh… What's the whole deal with John Walker?” Joaquin asked while fixing a sensor on the attic window.

All afternoon you had been setting up sensors anywhere there was a blind spot. You don’t want to scare Sarah, but your gut would not be satisfied until the house was a fortress.

“It’s the government’s doing to be honest. I have a feeling it’s gonna implode royally and they’ll be doing anything to cover it up.” You looked up from your tablet, “including taking down Walker.”

“Damn.” He stopped, climbing down the window still, “you speak like you’ve witnessed this before.”

You let out a dry laugh, connecting the sensor to your tablet, “I saw the Avengers being torn apart from the inside.”

“Wait,” he tilts his head, his hair bouncing while doing so, “you were with the Avengers during the Sokovia Accords?”

“Yep.” You sit along the wall under the open window, with the sunlight pooled into the attic and cool air rushing in, and pat the space next to you, “I was eight maybe, when Natasha and Clint saved me from being an assassin for The Red Room.” You took a deep breath, “Grew up with them, I stayed mostly on the sidelines until the Civil War. Then it was three years of being blacklisted by the government and whatnot.” he takes a seat right next to you, your shoulders touching.

“Enough about me,” you look at him, “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Born in Mexico, raised in Arizona.” He looks at you, his eyes in the sunlight shining bright.

Can eyes sparkle? I’ve never seen someone’s eyes sparkle before.

“Damn. Grand Canyons, huh.” you smile as you imagined him in hiking gear.

“Yeah, I’ve been there many times and believe me… it takes my breath away every single time.”

You huff out, “I always wanted to hike on that trail, never got the chance.”

“Maybe you can come with me after all this is over.” He says coyly, nudging your shoulder, “I can show you around, we can go visit other places, Horseshoe Bend, Havasu Falls…”

Y/n… just say it. He can’t be more obvious than this.

You smirk, “Joaquin Torres,” he looks at you, his cheeks turning red, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe… if you want to.” He looks at the ceiling, and to your amusement, you realize he was blushing, “And I promise I won’t scam you for money…” you laugh out loud, “I’m always up for hiking the trail, you know, because I work out.”

You groan in between laughing, “you heard that!”

“Yeah, I heard you checking me out…”

“…I wasn’t checking you out!” you fall back on the wall, “You have nice arms. That’s all.” You try not to smirk, but you see him do so from the corner of your eye.

“That’s all? What about my sensor uploading skills?” he wavered his eyebrows.

“10 by 10. You remain undefeated.”

Silence falls over as you keep stealing glances at each other. It’s only broken when he says, “You’re really pretty by the way.”

You laugh, and nudge his shoulder, “just pretty?”

“…and a Geek, you looked great in those Naruto pajamas…”

You hide your face in your hands but he continues, “Where did you get them? Costco?”

“I went on tour to Japan, so…” you look into those chocolaty brown eyes again, his face in the sunlight makes his features stand out, your attention going to his lips.

“Maybe you could take me with you next time.” He says, holding your hand, caressing the back as he looks at your lips.

“Only if you want to.” You whisper, leaning in, praying you weren’t reading this wrong.

Joaquin took hold of your neck, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. He pulled you closer, your lips meeting in the middle with a soft, exploratory touch. His lips were soft, as you'd imagined, and his hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. His tongue darted out, tasting you, a low groan rumbling in his chest that sent shivers down your spine. You wanted him to do more, go further, and you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his.

Before Joaquin could protest, you straddled him, pushing him back against the wall. His eyes widened in surprise, a predatory glint entering them. You crashed your mouth on his, this time with a fierce urgency. The soft exploration of your first kiss quickly escalated into a desperate demand, your bodies pressed together, a primal need igniting within you.

"Fuck... y/n," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He pulled back slightly, his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He found the sweet spot on your pulse, sucking on it with a possessive intensity that made you arch against him. You gasped, clutching at his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric.

He leaned back, his eyes closed, a blissful moan escaping his lips. "God, you taste incredible," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. He kissed you again, this time a slow, deliberate exploration, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth, mapping every curve.

Every inch of your body seemed to ignite by his touch, time melting away. There was only him, his hands roaming over your body, his lips devouring yours, and the intoxicating feeling of desire that consumed you both.

High Pitched and Grating, a sensor alarm rang through the attic.

You retreat in shock, like two deer caught in headlights, and Joaquin grabs the tablet and sees where this was happening.

Blood drained from his face as you witnessed at least four flag smashers moving towards the Wilson residence, guns armed, maybe a mile away.

He gets up, “East side?” grabbing the tablet and locking the windows.

“I’ll get Sarah.” You reply, already on your feet rushing downstairs.

---

"Halt," Lucas whispered, his voice a low growl in the pre-dawn darkness. The team crouched low, their figures mere shadows against the backdrop of the dense forest. Sam Wilson's house loomed ahead, a beacon of normalcy in the encroaching gloom.

"I see only two people inside," Matt reported, his voice a whisper cutting through the silence. "No kids." He checked the thermal scanners, the infrared images flickering on his visor.

Artie, his face pale in the moonlight, grabbed Lucas's shoulder. "Karli didn't say anything about kids."

"She told us to bring them alive," Lucas reminded him, his eyes fixed on the house. "And they need to be unharmed for negotiation."

Nadia shifted uncomfortably, her hand tightening around the grip of her revolver. "I don't like this," she muttered, her voice laced with unease. "I didn't agree to harm any kids."

Lucas turned to her, his gaze sharp. "Nadia!" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "We're doing this. One way or the other. Stop whining and get to work."

He took a deep breath, the metallic scent intensifying. "One World..." he began, his voice echoing in the stillness.

"One people," his team responded in unison, their voices a low, guttural chant.

With a silent, coordinated movement, they emerged from the shadows, their figures gliding towards the Wilson residence, the air thick with anticipation and a chilling sense of foreboding.

---

"Go, go, go!" you barked, adrenaline surging through you. You snatched Sarah's bag, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the handgun inside. You grabbed AJ's hand, his small fingers clutching yours tightly, and ushered them towards the waiting car.

Cass and Sarah were already running, their figures mere shadows against the encroaching twilight. You threw the bags in the backseat, your movements a blur, then helped Cass and AJ climb in.

Sarah slid behind the wheel, her face pale. "Y/n, what are you doing?!" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I have to stay here," you said, your voice firm. "Make sure they don't follow you." You shoved your Glock into Sarah's hand.

A roar from inside the house cut through the tension. "Y/n! They're here!" Joaquin's voice, amplified by the sudden silence, echoed through the air.

"Sarah, I promise I'll be fine," you said, your gaze locked with Cass's in the rearview mirror. Tears were streaming down her face, but she nodded, her small frame trembling. "You have to go." You shoved your tablet into her hands, a desperate plea in your eyes. "Remember what I told you earlier. You'll be safe here."

"Sarah, go!" you screamed, your voice hoarse.

You watched as the car lurched forward, disappearing down the dirt road that snaked towards the water. A beep on your watch confirmed her location, a fleeting sense of relief washing over you.

Phase One. Over.

Phase Two. Let's go.

You sprinted through the back door, the house suddenly feeling eerily silent. Joaquin was already there, a grim set to his jaw. He was clad in his SHIELD armor, the sleek black material gleaming in the dim light. Guns and your emergency bag lay scattered across the kitchen table, a grim testament to the impending battle. You stole a glance at the tablet, its screen flickering with life as it ran facial recognition on the figures outside.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice a low growl, as you slipped on the bulletproof vest and began loading the magazines.

"Yeah," Joaquin replied, his eyes scanning the room, assessing the situation.

You looked out the window, the setting sun casting long, eerie shadows across the yard. "Let's hope Sam doesn't sue us for destroying his house," you muttered.

To be continued...

Part 2

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!

Taglist

[sunflowerlando]

World Saving Deserves A Reward

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x female reader (no use of Y/N) Synopsis: Joaquín is back from another mission, and you want to thank him for always being out there trying to save the world. Word Count: 880 Warnings: smut (seriously this is 18+), little to no plot, just porn, blow job (cause I'm on my knees for him)

Just some Joaquín smut with like 0 plot. I wrote this all on one day entirely on my phone and briefly proofread (sorry if there are mistakes/if it sucks). All the SDCC photos/videos/promos got me back in my feral for Danny era. Legggooooooooo

You card your fingers through his hair as you straddle his lap on the couch. His hands are resting on your hips, and you're happy to have him back home. 

“I missed you so much, amor.” He says, and you lean down to press your lips to his. 

“I missed you, too, Joaquín. It’s not the same when you’re not around.”

“I wish I could be with you all the time, baby… you know I do.”

“I know, I know… you’ve gotta go save the world with Captain America” you say with a laugh, and he smiles up at you.

“Don’t I deserve a reward for that?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know, do you?” You tease before kissing him again. You kiss lazily, your tongues tracing each other as you re-familiarize yourselves with the intimacy you’ve been missing while he was away.

You feel him twitch against your leg, and you grind your hips gently down on him. 

“Hermosa, you’re going to be the death of me.” He says as you part from a kiss.

“Just showing you appreciation for your world saving skills.” You reply with a grin, grinding against him as his head falls back on the couch and he lets out a small groan.

"How do you always manage to get me hard in an absolute instant?" he asks, his brown eyes catching yours, darker now as the lust begins to take hold.

"A talent for sure." you say softly in his ear and then bite gently on the lobe before trailing kisses down his neck.

Your hips continue to move on him, and you feel his hardness pressing tantalizingly against you.  "I wanna suck you off." you whisper in his ear and his entire body shivers. "That okay?" "More than okay, amor." he says as you lean back, tracing your hands over his muscular chest to the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head and tossing it behind you on the living room floor.

He's looking up at you with pure adoration as you pull your top off as well. You know he likes looking at your breasts, and this moment is all about him. Your hands trail over his chest, tracing lightly over his nipples as he sucks in a quick breath.

You slide off his lap, grabbing a pillow for under your knees, and position yourself in front of him. "You're so perfect." he says, running a finger along your lips. You suck his finger into your mouth for a moment as you unzip his jeans. He helps you tug them down his thighs along with his boxers, so you have easy access to him.

His cock bobs up against his stomach, and you reach for him as he moves his hand up into your hair, holding loosely. You lick slowly across the head of him before wrapping your mouth around his girth and start to move your mouth up and down. You take as much of him as you can, enjoying having this control over him.

When he’s in the field and on missions he has to be dialed in constantly. You love being the one that gets him to let go. You feel so lucky to be the only one that gets to see this completely relaxed version of the man you’d do anything for.

“Ángel...” he mutters, gazing down at you with lust hazing his gaze. You start pumping a hand up and down his shaft along with sucking on his tip. His hand snarled in your hair tightens, and his other grabs for your free hand that is resting on this thigh. He slides that hand along his leg, directing you to fondle his balls.

"Yes, like that." he moans. His noises are one of your favorite parts about getting him off. He’s not always overly vocal, but when you go down on him, he turns into a mess.

You run your mouth and tongue down the underside of his cock and back up before enveloping him once again as he groans. You look up at him, meeting his eyes. His pupils are blown in pleasure his hips are rising off the couch now, meeting your fervor as he chases his orgasm. You let him thrust up into your mouth, trusting him to do what feels good for both of you.

"Mierda. Voy a correrme." he utters, and you know he's close. You love when he's so gone to the pleasure that he gets vulgar, no matter what language he's speaking.

"Let go for me, Joaquín." you say, pulling away momentarily before going back to your touching and sucking. 

His salty release bursts on your tongue as he groans and swears above you. You still until he tugs on your hair, letting you know he's all good, before pulling your head free and swallowing what is in your mouth. 

“Thank you, mi sol. Te amo.” He says as you move to sit back on the couch with him. He shifts his pants back up and reaches over to caress your cheek with that blissed out smile you live for plastered on his pretty face.

“I love you too, Joaquín.” You say, snuggling against his bare chest as you both relax into the cushions.

[tom-whore-dleston]

the three of them

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f. reader, Joaquin Torres x f. reader, Sam Wilson x f. reader

This fic contains: angst, multiple situationships, implied poly!reader, long distance, implied infidelity, poetry format

Notes: This is my submission for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial theme: Great Expectations. The dating life is currently all over the place and I just wanted to dump all my feelings towards the relationships I have in a poetic way.

“What do you want?” They ask.

Isn’t it obvious?

You want Bucky.

But you also want Joaquin. 

And then there’s also Sam.

In a perfect world, you would have all three of them. 

Maybe even more if you wanted to.

Your heart is big enough to love them all the same.

Bucky feels a strong connection with you, yet he has Natasha.

It’s so confusing to both you and Bucky.

But Bucky makes you feel oh so good.

More than any other man has in your life.

Joaquin also wants you, but the distance between you both is greater than the yearning you have for one another.

Joaquin admires your artistic abilities and your passions.

He sees himself in you, hence why he loves you the way he does.

Someone said they see why you and Joaquin click.

Because you and Joaquin don’t take life so seriously.

You both know how to have fun and be silly.

You met Sam amongst the storm that is Bucky and Joaquin.

He is a safe haven for you. 

But this safe haven will be shipped off to the other side of the world before you know it. 

You have all this love in your heart that you’re ready to give.

But is now the right time?

Perhaps, there is another man, maybe woman, that is Bucky, Joaquin, and Sam combined.

They could be out there in this world.

It’s up to you if you want to explore that possibility.

But you’re not ready to let go of Bucky, Joaquin or Sam yet. 

You suppose that’s okay.

Until those dreams manifest into nightmares.

What do you want?

Who will you choose?

In the end, you must choose yourself, no matter what or who you want.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Joaquin Torres Masterlist | Sam Wilson Masterlist

[fireinmoonshot]

strawberry danishes | joaquin torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Joaquin Torres has a crush on the cute girl that comes to the coffee shop he frequents. Little does he know, you've been crushing on him too. He's never regretted eating a strawberry danish more than the day you finally come up to him and start a conversation. Warnings: TW for food/coffee etc. Word Count: 2.7k A/N: I saw Captain America: Brave New World last Friday and honestly I spent the entire time staring at Joaquin. I've loved him since TFATWS but I loved seeing more of him in this movie and I immediately wanted to write for him after but I was away for the weekend without my laptop, so literally as soon as I was home I knew I needed to start working on something for him. This was inspired by the song Coffee Cake by Benson Boone. I really hope you enjoy and please let me know if you guys want me to write more for Joaquin!

Joaquin Torres knew your coffee order before he even knew your name.

It wasn’t in a creepy way – he wasn’t stalking you or anything. The two of you just happened to frequent the same coffee shop. Whenever Joaquin was home, he had a routine of stopping by a local cafe by the park near his apartment for a coffee and a pastry after his morning run. The small cafe obviously had a place in your morning routine too.

The first time he saw you he couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you were, and it wasn’t just the fact that the sun was shining through the window beside you, coating you in the warm, golden light. He was a fairly confident person but for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to approach you that day and talk to you.

He told himself that he’d do it the next time he saw you, but the next time you were in and out of the cafe so quickly he barely even saw you from his spot across the room, his mouth full of a bite of blueberry danish. 

Then, work called him away and he was gone for weeks. Any time he made himself a coffee over the next few weeks, he thought of you. He was fully aware that it was probably incredibly creepy of him to be doing so – he didn’t know the first thing about you, and you had no idea who he was – but he had a crush. He had to admit that to himself.

When he was back home, he looked forward to his morning coffee more than anything simply because of the chance that he might see you. Luck happened to be in his favour, too, as when he walked in and joined the line to order, you had lined up behind him. He had no idea, of course, until he’d ordered and stepped off to the side. The poor boy had almost choked on air itself when he turned to see you ordering after him. 

“Just an iced chocolate to-go, please,” you said.

It was the first time Joaquin had heard your voice and he was pretty certain that it was the actual sound of angels coming down from the heavens. He had to force himself to look away from you so he didn’t get caught staring. He was so stuck in his own head, focused on your beauty, that he didn’t even hear the barista calling his name and order out for collection. 

He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and looked down to see you looking up at him. 

“Hey,” Joaquin managed, his voice a little breathless. Oh, this was so embarrassing. The first thing he can think to say to you when you initiate a conversation with him and it’s hey? 

You pointed towards the counter. “I think that’s your order. The barista keeps looking at you when he’s calling out Joaquin.” 

Joaquin cleared his throat. “Oh, right. Thanks.” He chuckled awkwardly and moved to grab his coffee, planning to turn around afterwards and introduce himself properly. By the way, the name is Torres. Joaquin Torres. And what would your name be? Something beautiful, I’m sure. 

It was probably for the best that by the time he turned around – oblivious to the death stare the barista was giving him, irritated at having to shout his name out multiple times  – you had moved across the room to take a seat at a table by the window. Now it would just look weird if he was to walk all the way over to you and introduce himself. You’d excused yourself from the conversation. 

Disappointed, Joaquin took a sip of his coffee and forced himself out of the cafe, berating himself in his thoughts the whole way. It was only when he’d gotten back to his apartment that he realised he’d left behind the pastry that he’d ordered alongside his coffee. 

More time passed and Joaquin had been working so often he hadn’t had any time to get back to the cafe. He started to wonder if possibly this was all just nothing more than a silly crush on a passer-by. That maybe, you weren’t destined to say anything more than the words that you’d shared at the cafe that day a month ago. 

Joaquin wasn’t going to stop going by his favourite cafe though. If you spoke to him, of course he’d speak back to you. But he wasn’t going to go out of his way to talk to someone that clearly wasn’t as interested in him as he was in you, judging on your past interaction. 

He settled down at a table by the window, placing the plate containing his strawberry danish down in front of him. It wasn’t long before the staff brought over the coffee he’d ordered and he could dig into his danish without being interrupted. He’d missed these mornings while he’d been working. There wasn’t much else that filled him quite like the peace he had when he was in the cafe. 

He wasn’t watching the door when you walked into the cafe and went to order. He was too preoccupied with his danish, taking a rather large bite of it and almost moaning at the taste of it. There was nothing as good as a danish from this place, he was sure of it.

He was still too busy eating the danish to notice you walking over to his table, a plate of your own in your hands. It was only when he noticed someone stood beside the table that he looked up, swallowing the mouthful of danish – and luckily not choking on it as his eyes settled on you. He’d assumed it might have been another member of staff, maybe they’d given him the wrong coffee, but he had not expected you.

“You’re in my seat,” you said simply, looking down at the man and trying so hardly not to smile at the sight of him, sitting there looking up at you with wide eyes and sugar all around his mouth and even on the tip of his nose. 

Joaquin was lost for words and it took him a moment to find something to say. “You can sit here! I didn’t realise this was your seat. Do you want me to move? Hang on, let me just get this sugar off my hands and I’ll–”

“Hey, it’s fine. Really,” you smiled, pulling the chair out on the opposite side of the table and moving to sit down “You can stay here. Actually, I’ve kind of been waiting to have an excuse to talk to you, so thanks for sitting in my seat. Joaquin, right?”

He stared at you for a moment. “How do you know my name?” He didn’t even know your name, so how was it possible that you knew his? Unless you’d asked the barista about him… wait… you’d been waiting for an excuse to talk to him? Was his brain short circuiting? Was he dreaming? Surely he was dreaming. Under the table, he pinched the skin of his arm between his fingers… nope… not dreaming…

“Last time I saw you in here, you were spacing out and the barista was calling your name. I had to tell you that your order was being called,” you said, a little sheepishly. “I guess you don’t remember that.” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all… he was cute, sure, but if he didn’t remember that, he clearly wasn’t as interested in you as you were in him.

Recognition sparked in Joaquin’s mind. “Oh, I do remember that! I wasn’t spacing out, I was just distracted by y– by something.” Admitting he was distracted by you was probably not the best way to start your first proper conversation. “But that makes sense now. I don’t know your name, though. I guess you listen more carefully when they call your order out.”

“I try my best,” you admitted, before introducing yourself to him properly. It was hard not to admit the fact that Joaquin was probably the cutest guy you’d ever seen, especially with the sugar on his face. “You, uh… you have some sugar on your face by the way. Here and here.” You motioned to the spots on your own face so he could tell where to wipe.

His eyes widened again as he grabbed for the napkin and started to wipe the sugar off.

“So, what were you distracted by that day?” You attempted to change the subject.

“Uhhhh…” Joaquin thought for a moment. “You know what? I actually can’t remember. It’s been a while, lots has happened between then and now, I guess.” He laughed a little. “Anyway, let’s not skip over what you said when you sat down – you’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to me? I’d like to know more about that, actually.”

He watched, intrigued and entirely enthralled by you, as you became slightly shy at his words. Like the ones you’d said had been spoken on accident and that you’d been hoping he wasn’t going to bring them up again. But if there was one thing you’d learn about Joaquin, it was that he was always going to bring up the things you thought you could forget.

“Okay, well… I’ve noticed you in the cafe a few times over the last few months and I figured we must both come here pretty often in the mornings for me to see you so often. And… well…” You trailed off, your eyes falling to the plate in front of you.

Joaquin leant forward. “You can’t just leave me on a cliffhanger.”

“I thought you were cute!” You admitted, probably a little louder than you should’ve. “I thought you were cute and I’ve been trying to get the courage to talk to you ever since I first saw you. But you haven’t been in here for a while and the last time I saw you, I chickened out of having an actual conversation with you and ran away.”

It took every part of your strength not to get up and leave the table straight away out of sheer embarrassment. Admitting to a total stranger that you thought they were cute was not the kind of thing that you usually did. But something kept drawing you to Joaquin and today you’d just been given the perfect opportunity to do something about it.

You couldn’t meet his eyes for a while, meaning you missed the look of shock on his face and the way his face gradually broke out into a smile of disbelief. You thought he was cute? He thought you were cute! Luck had somehow been on his side today.

“You think I’m cute?” Joaquin replied, a smirk on his lips and the confidence he’d been missing over the last few months whenever he was around you returning immediately. 

Your eyes flickered up to his, surprised to see that he actually seemed to be happy about it. “Well, yeah…” 

Joaquin couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. “I swear I’m not just saying this, but I’ve been trying to get the confidence to talk to you, too. I’m a confident guy but for some reason, every time I’ve seen you in here I suddenly become the least confident man on earth.” 

You didn’t doubt his words. They seemed completely truthful and you knew right away that Joaquin was not the kind of guy to lie to you. He was inherently honest. 

“I haven’t been in here for a while cause of work,” Joaquin continued. “I’m in the Air Force. Means I’m not home too often, so I make the most of it when I am.” He decided to leave out the part about him practically being an Avenger. That was something he could ease you into. He had a feeling that dropping the whole Oh yeah, by the way I’m also the new Falcon would scare you off more than intrigue you.

“Well, that explains why I haven’t seen you lately,” you nodded. “So, you just come here for breakfast when you’re in town?”

He nodded. “I have a bit of a routine of a coffee and a danish after my morning run. I’m pretty glad that I do now, especially since you came to talk to me today. Even if I had sugar all over my face and embarrassed the hell outta myself when you did.” 

Joaquin was pretty sure he was never going to live that down. It was certainly something that Sam Wilson was never going to hear about or he would tease him about it for the rest of his life, he was sure of that. 

You laughed. “Okay, but the sugar on your face was actually kind of cute, and if I knew you better I would have just wiped it off for you instead of embarrassing you by telling you so you had to do it yourself.”

“Why don’t we get to know each other better then?” Joaquin saw his chance and took it. “Let me take you out on a date, somewhere that isn’t this coffee shop and somewhere I won’t eat something that covers my face in sugar. What do you say?”

He was pretty confident that you were going to say yes, especially when he saw your lips curl into a smile. He could almost see the cogs turning in your mind as you tried to figure out what to say to answer him. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise I’m not some kind of creep – and yes, I’m well aware that is exactly what someone who is a creep would say – but I’m really not,” he laughed. “All I am is a guy who’s been crushing on the cute girl who keeps coming into my coffee shop and trying to convince myself to talk to her.”

“Okay, okay – fine, I’ll go on a proper date with you,” you agreed, unable to keep it in any longer. Watching him try and convince you was so incredibly endearing but you couldn’t keep him waiting when he was clearly so eager to take you out.

Joaquin grinned. “So… can I pick you up at 7, then?”

“Tonight?” 

“You got other plans?”

You shook your head. “No, I just didn’t expect you to be so quick with it.”

“Well, with my job, I could be gone tomorrow and I feel like we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you? I mean… we’ve both liked each other for months without knowing a single thing about each other apart from our coffee orders. I’d like to change that,” he admitted.

“All right,” you agreed with a nod. “You’ll pick me up at 7. But right now, I am going to eat this pastry that’s been sitting here in front of me the whole time and I’ll let you finish your danish cause after all, you did steal my seat and I did come here to eat some breakfast.”

Joaquin chuckled and picked up his danish again. “You promise to tell me if I get sugar all over my face again?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “Like I said, you looked pretty cute with sugar all over your face.”

He shook his head and took a bite of his danish. He’d thought he wasn’t going to live this down if Sam ever found out about it, but he hadn’t counted on you being one to keep reminding him about it. But… you found it cute, so Joaquin was pretty sure he could live with that… hearing you calling him cute. 

You smiled to yourself as you watched him bite into the danish and end up with sugar on his face again. It wasn’t everywhere like it had been before but it was on the corner of his mouth. 

He looked over at you. “I have sugar on my face again, don’t I?”

“You trying to get me to tell you that I think you’re cute again, Joaquin?” 

“Can you blame a guy for liking the fact that a pretty girl thinks he’s cute?”

Smiling, you reached over and swiped your finger over the corner of his mouth, removing the sugar from it. You almost laughed at the way Joaquin froze and the look of shock on his face. He was pretty sure he’d just died and gone to heaven, actually. 

“You just had a little bit of sugar there,” you hummed, picking your own danish up.

Joaquin let out a long, shaky breath. Who knew a strawberry danish could be so dangerous?

[blackbat05]

Fateful Encounters

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: After a hard week at the library, you meet an enigmatic stranger with the help of your beloved dog. During TFATWS timeline.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: And I’m going to watch him on big screen today?!!!?Was in a funk so really glad I got this out! This is a complete rewrite to (Mixup) So excited to see him on Big Screen too after writing for him for so long! Enjoy!!! Tag: @the-slumberparty for 2025 challenge!

“Thanks for today!” You call out to Sophie who urges you to get out of the library and enjoy the weekend.

“Hey! Thanks for bringing Bubbles! They really loved her at the session today.” Sophie bends down to give my lovely Goldie, Bubbles a head pat. “You did such a good job!” She addresses the joyful pooch who gives a bark of acknowledgement.

You bid Sophie goodbye and lead Bubbles out into the cold evening of New York for a hearty dinner and another job well done for the week at the library.

“Well done girl! Where shall we go?” You ask Bubbles who gives a tug on her leash, leading you down the familiar path to both your favourite cafe near the library. “Of course, why did I even ask.” You smiled.

The cafe that you frequented when you first arrived in the bustling city was starting to become crowded on a Friday evening. Family and friends gathered to enjoy the start of a weekend. Bubbles obediently waits in line as you ordered a chicken rice bowl for yourself and a specially curated shredded chicken and pepperoni pizza for Bubbles who is almost pulling you the other direction the moment you finished payment.

“Girl! Slow down. There’s still seats.” You were confused at her sudden excitement at something. You follow her line of sight only to see a lone man gazing out of the window, lost in thought. Bubbles continues to drag you towards the said man, much to your horror.

“Bubbles! No! There’s other seats! We’re not disturbing the poor man!” You hissed under your breath. Unfortunately, it falls on deaf ears as Bubbles only becomes stronger. “Bubbles! Oh- hi!”

You quickly revert to what you assume is a calm and composed version of yourself when internally, you’re freaking out. For a very good reason.

The man was gorgeous. As in, breathtakingly gorgeous. Donning a black leather jacket, you were mesmerized by his hazel coloured eyes that just sucked you in with each passing minute. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, his soft lips catching your attention…

Bubbles nudges you hardly on the shin and you snap out of your lovesick induced haze. It is then that you notice that the man’s right eye is recovering from a bad bruise. You’re left to wonder what was the story behind that but you quickly pull yourself together because this is not the time to be ogling at the man like he’s an animal at the zoo. You certainly didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not sure why Bubbles is acting this way.” You apologized. “We’ll just find a seat and be on our way.” You try to tug on Bubble’s leash without much success. Bless the man, he doesn’t seem bothered at all by your sudden appearance. In fact, he offers you the seat across from him. “It’s getting crowded, please.”

You thank him and quickly settle down across him. Bubbles takes no time in trotting over to her new found friend, resting her snout on his lap. “She likes you.” You observed. The man gives Bubbles a rub, much to her delight. “She never warms up to anyone that quickly before.”

“Well then, I must be a very lucky person.” He cracks a small smile before introducing himself. “Where are my manners? My name is Joaquin Torres.” Joaquin offers a handshake.

“Y/N L/N. We just came from the public library down the street.”

For the next few minutes, you fall into easy conversation about your job as a library assistant at the children’s section. You were absolutely out of luck when you were trying to search for a job fresh out of university. Although you could have gone into the corporate world and land a cushy job, you never felt that it was right for you to begin with. Your true passion lied with books and connecting with people about them. So one day, when you were absolutely tired of having to spend the whole day in front of a computer sending out resumes after resumes, you decided to head to the public library for a much needed escape.

“And lucky me, I saw the advert for the job. So here I am.” You beam inwardly at the memory. It was incredible really, how far you’ve come since then. “That’s enough about me, I would like to know more about you.” You say sincerely.

Joaquin fiddles with his teaspoon and you wonder if you’ve crossed the line. You start to open your mouth to apologize but it’s as if he can read your mind. “It’s only fair.” He brushes away your apology reassures that you’re not forcing him.

“I used to be in the military, Air Force.” Joaquin tells you. “It was the best time of my life. But seeing people die, that chipped away at my soul.” A moment of silence passes, perhaps for the lives that were lost.

“This?” He points to his bruise. “I got it while on a mission in Europe. I was there for surveillance, but innocent civilians died on my watch by a group of terrorists claiming that they were making the world better.” Joaquin tells me bitterly. Bubbles gets up and presses her body against Joaquin’s legs, as if she could sense the agitation radiating from him. He looks down and gives her another rub of thanks.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to go through something so horrific. Thank you for telling me.”

“It was actually something that I needed to do actually.” Joaquin confesses. “My Captain encouraged me to get therapy but it didn’t sit right with me.” He laughs at the thought. “I should thank you for sharing as well. It mustn’t have been easy, how you got here today.”

You were oddly pleased at Joaquin’s compliment. You knew that already, but having someone like Joaquin to acknowledge your struggles made you feel a connection with him.

As the customers continued to stream in and out of the cafe, you sat across the charming stranger-now-turned friend, sharing experiences living in the bustling Big Apple.

Bubbles whine, signaling that she was started to feel cooped out under the table. “Oh, I think that’s my signal.” You carefully eased the dog under the table. “Thank you for the company and conversation. I really needed that.”

“Same here. Take care.”

You stepped out into the chilly evening, heading back in the direction of your apartment. As you arrived back home, you let out a gasp of realization, causing Bubbles to be alarmed.

“Oh no! I forgot to ask him his number!” You groaned. Joaquin was a genuinely nice guy - a rare one these days. A rare one that you carelessly let out of your grasp like a slippery fish.

Hitting your head on the back of the sofa, you turned to Bubbles. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be huh girl?”

Bubbles let’s out a bark, bringing your backpack that you take to work everyday. Confused, you open up the bag, figuring that Bubbles wants to play with her blue plastic ball. Not that you were in a mood to play anyways. But dogs didn’t know that.

As you were about to throw the ball for Bubbles to fetch, she let’s out another bark. It is then you realized that there’s a white piece of paper sticking out of the ball’s cap. Unscrewing it open, a piece of paper that was ripped out from the order sheet at the cafe falls out. Opening it, you find a signature with a couple of words inside:

“Hey Y/N, I had a really great time talking to you. I know it sounds bonkers but I think I’ve hit it off with you and I don’t want this to be our only time. I don’t want to be a weirdo (or stalker) so this is my number. Call me when you’re ready.”

You hold the piece of paper in your hands, smiling from ear to ear. Perhaps you look a little deranged but the idea of Joaquin feeling the same way that you did was a god send. It really was a no brainer as to what you were going to do next.

Taking a deep breath, you dial his number that was given and hit the camera function while praying for the best.

After three rings, Joaquin picks up, his boyish features lighting up at the sight of you. Needless to say, it made you feel incredible. “I was praying that it wasn’t an unsuspecting old lady.” You crack a joke that earns a hearty laughter from the man.

“I’m glad you called.”

“So did I.”

Joaquin grins at your confession. “So… are you doing anything next weekend? I was thinking I could take you and Bubbles to this famous steak place.” It was adorable to see Joaquin nervous as he waits for your response. Joaquin must have sensed the cogs in your brain turning so he quickly adds, “I swear I’m not weird or anything. It’s just that I really liked talking to you that day and Bubbles! But if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“Joaquin!” You get his attention to stop him from rambling further.

“Yeah?”

“I was going to say yes either way.”

Joaquin blinks, slowly registering your words. “Great! That’s great! Um, bring Bubbles too! I want to see her again.”

You glance down at your beloved pooch who is wagging her tail at Joaquin’s voice.

“Oh she will. She’s definitely excited to see you too.” You laugh and pause for a moment, unsure if it’s too fast to say this. But hey, life is fleeting as it comes. So screw it.

“I’m excited to see you as well.”

[system-to-the-madness]

Still Loved - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: : James Buchanan ‘Bucky‘ Barnes x fem!Reader Era: post-tfatws Genre: fluff Word Count: 6 039 Warnings: food, crying Bucky, Bucky’s having a bit of a crisis, mentions of Bucky’s past Summary: Bucky’s fully prepared to spend his birthday alone, but you have different plans A/N: Happy Birthday to our Bucky! spent like an hour looking up Brooklyn accent, feel like I know less than before, probably did it all wrong. Don’t come for me unless you feel confident enough to do it in spelled out Franconian German.

Bucky wasn’t entirely certain why he woke up with the feeling of dread having settled deep into his stomach. Not until he had turned and grabbed his phone from the nightstand anyway. The date caught his eye without him meaning to check it, and he froze. 

The 10th of March had always been a day he had looked forward to, his favourite day of the year. As a child, he had known it would be the one day, where his Ma would take him out to a café, leaving his siblings with the babysitter. They’d sit in a window spot, eating cake and laughing until his stomach hurt. He remembered how every year the shop seemed to shrink, the table and the chairs became smaller, and eventually his feet would reach down to the floor. In the evenings his Da would come home to the family, all four children running to hug him, but on the 10th of March the hug Bucky got was especially long and tight. His Da would always be the one to bring the presents. Sometimes there were two or three small ones, usually small toys Bucky had seen in the shops, or books, once he could read. Other times there was one big present, a little machine he could assemble himself, a chemistry set or the pocketknife he had gotten for his tenth birthday. Really, those days, the 10th of March of every year until 1943 had to have been the best days of his life. Later, after he had met Steve, he still would let his Ma take him to the café, would still welcome his Da home, but in the afternoons, after class, he'd hang out with Steve, just taking walks and buying insane amounts of sweets on their way around the blocks.

Now… Bucky wished his bed would swallow him whole and spit him out tomorrow, preferably without his memories of this day. He wasn’t sure what the worst part of his birthday was now. That the whole world knew it was his birthday, and somehow expected him to do something meaningful that day? That everyone expected him to somehow make time so they could congratulate him for being born, when really he had had very little say in the matter? Or maybe it was for surviving so long? Yeah, he’d rather not be reminded of the conditions for his survival. 

Maybe he didn’t like his birthday, because while the whole world remembered, nobody ever really made him feel as special as his family had, with his Ma taking him out to the café, his Da handing him his present with a knowing smile, Steve sheepishly giving him a rolled up drawing of a spot Bucky had commented recently on liking, his sisters giving him flowers they picked themselves or trying to put them in his hair. 

These days, people shook his hand and said: “Happy Birthday” and kept moving along as if nothing had happened. Sure, he didn’t expect, didn’t want, the whole world to make a big fuss, but at least the few people he was closest to… Well, that wasn't a lot of people if he was being honest. There was Sam, for one. Sam, who had been sent on a mission to Alaska last night, so he wouldn’t be home for a while. Then there was Joaquin, if Bucky even cared to count him. Who had gone with Sam, for obvious reasons. Sharon hadn’t been in contact for months. And again, not necessarily the person he was closest with. That left…

Bucky sighed and sunk back in his pillow. Yeah, there was no way he’d celebrate his birthday in a meaningful way this year either. You were the one person he would always count on to have by his side, considering you weren’t nearly as often out of the city as Sam or Joaquin. But you had a deadline to meet for a project that had been going on for almost a whole year now, and Bucky understood that even if you could make time for something like his birthday, you probably would not be in the mood. If he were lucky, he’d get to see you tomorrow. Or on Wednesday. No, not Wednesday. That was too far away. 

He sighed again, running his hand over his face. This was pathetic. Hadn’t he seen you just on Saturday? The two of you had played darts with Sam, and you had been world-record-breakingly bad at it, and somehow it had been the most endearing thing Bucky had seen since- well, since the weekend before that, when you had put some cookie batter on his nose and laughed gleefully, apparently absolutely ecstatic about the way he had raised his eyebrows at you and pressed his lips together. The second part had mostly been to suppress the urge to kiss you, but his point was standing: it was absolutely pathetic that he, a grown man of what? 108 years old could not even go half a week without seeing you. 

His phone made a weird noise that faintly sounded like a cackle, which wasn’t surprising since the ringtone he had set for messages from Sam was a sound recording of the man himself laughing his ass off over a small mistake Joaquin had made. Grabbing the phone off his bedside table again, he opened the message, phrased in the usual nonchalant-sounding tone Sam loved to use. A few years ago, he might have been confused at Sam’s message, but by now he knew him well enough to understand that this was simply his way of showing he cared. Reading through the birthday message actually made a smile tuck at Bucky’s lips and he quickly replied with a heartfelt thank you, appreciating that Sam had taken a few minutes away from the mission to send him this message.

Realising that he couldn’t spend the whole day in bed, Bucky got up, making sure to disconnect his phone from the Wi-Fi so he wouldn’t be tempted to check social media, and made his way to the bathroom. A long shower, a hearty breakfast and two chapters of his current reading later, there was a knock on his door, making him pause mid-sentence. 

Quickly he went through all the people who would check up on him in person, coming to a similar conclusion as this morning: There was nobody. Sam and Joaquin were on a mission, Sharon was god-knew-where and you were probably drowning in work and incompetent co-workers… Now that he thought about it, he could pick up some lunch and drop by your workplace. That would mean for one, he might help you destress a little over shared lunch, and two he would get to see you before Wednesday. But… would you even have time to talk to him, even if it was just twenty minutes over some take-out sushi? Or would that just add to your stress? He’d hate himself, if he made your day even worse than it already was by additionally stressing you out over insisting he was so self-centred that he ignored your needs over his wish to spend his birthday with you.

Another knock on his door made him interrupt that thought and hesitantly he got up. What if his address had been leaked to the public again, and these were some people whose families the Winter Soldier had killed? Or worse: fans? He appreciated the support, he really did, he just wished people wouldn’t come up to him and confront him with their sexual fantasies about the Winter Soldier, the will-less killing machine he had once been.

Checking the camera next to his entrance made him furrow his brows in confusion and quickly he opened the door.

“What are ya doin’ here,” he asked, irritated but unable to hide the smile that began pulling at his lips.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” you cheered, holding a bouquet of flowers out to him.

“I- uhm,” surprised, but now definitely smiling, he took the flowers and stepped aside, letting you in. “Thank ya!”

“You didn’t mention your birthday at all when we hung out last time, so I figured, I should check up on you,” you explained, following him into the kitchen after you had toed off your shoes in the hallway.

“Ya didn’t have to come,” Bucky told you, rummaging through his cupboards, looking for a glass that was big enough to fit the flowers. “I know ya super busy with that project.”

“Well, guess what?”

“Hm?”

“I handed it in-” you glanced at your watch, “about thirty minutes ago!”

“What? Really?” Surprised Bucky turned around to you, placing the flowers down and crossed the short distance to you, wrapping you in a rare hug. “Congratulations! Ya finally got it over with!”

“I do,” you grinned, hugging him back, and Bucky couldn’t help but hold you a bit tighter, feeling your warm body press against his, feeling your torso expand and deflate with each breath you took. He was inhaling the soft scent of your shampoo, his hands carefully resting on the thin jacket you were still wearing, and he had to remind himself, that this was a casual hug, nothing more. 

“I’m so proud of ya,” he whispered against your hair, before pulling away slowly, hoping you didn’t notice the blush on his cheeks. “I thought the deadline was Friday though…”

“It is,” you answered, taking a step backwards, unable to meet his eyes, and for a terrifying second Bucky worried he might have made you feel uncomfortable, but then you were smiling again and the thought evaporated from his mind. “I put in some extra work last week, so I could finish it in time to spend your birthday with you.”

“Shouldn’t we- shouldn’t we celebrate that it’s over,” Bucky asked, “I mean, it feels like a pretty big thing. Ya should celebrate. With ya co-workers or…”

You scoffed. “Nah, thank you. I have seen enough of them. And I do intend to celebrate. Tomorrow. Today’s all about you. So, what do you say: Lunch? Unless you have other plans?”

Bucky smiled. “All free,” he let you know before finally deciding on a beer mug Sam had brought him as a gift from his last trip to Germany, knowing fully well that beer did nothing to Bucky’s super-soldier body and metabolism.

After he had arranged the flowers, all while trying to ignore the way you were leaning with your shoulder against his fridge and watched him, he put on a shirt that made him look at least a little more like he was planning on heading out and his leather jacket, and let you lead the way to a small restaurant. 

It was almost impossible to find spots in Brooklyn that were not busy around the lunch time, but the restaurant you had chosen, in a small backstreet, seemed just far away enough from the big streets to avoid the worst of the trouble. It was a lovely little place, with a window nook, into which the waiter guided the two of you to sit, looking out into a slightly more crowded street. It was an Italian place, the walls painted with sceneries of the Mediterranean, small olive trees growing in pots next to the door, fairy lights in wine bottles strung along the ceiling, and soft, Italian music playing over speakers hidden behind fake vines. 

The elderly gentleman with a strong Italian accent, Emillio, handed the two of you menus and made a big gesture out of lighting the candle on the table between you, even while soft spring sunlight was flickering in through the window.

When he had stepped away again, Bucky leant over. “How confused do ya think he’ll be, when I order in Italian?”

“You speak Italian?”

He shrugged: “Well, a little.” He leant back again with a smug grin, watching as you were furrowing your brows.

“Since when?”

“Some time in ‘43, I guess… See, we were stationed in Italy, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little, if ya know what I’m sayin’.”

As he was speaking, your amused smile slowly dropped, and an expression of thinly veiled horror began creeping over your face.

“Shi- I’m so sorry,” you apologized, making it Bucky’s turn to be surprised.

“What for? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“For- I mean- I completely forgot you were stationed in Italy and now I dragged you to an Italian restaurant-”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the way you looked around, half-panicked as if the sight of a wine-bottle might trigger a traumatising memory for him. “I appreciate ya concern, I really do, but it’s fine, ya hear? It’s all fine.”

Reaching over the table, he covered your hand with his, stroking the back of it gently. 

“I love Italian food,” he reassured you, who only slowly began relaxing again.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid,” you groaned, turning your hand to wrap your fingers around his. “I should have thought about this.”

“No, trust me,” Bucky laughed quietly, leaning forward again, “It’s all fine. Apart from the fact that it’ll be hard findin’ a country in which I haven’t - worked, I do love Italian. And it’s romantic.”

He wasn’t sure why he said the last part, or why he thought it to be necessary to kiss the back of your hand, before placing it back down on the table. But the way you looked at him for a brief moment, before you averted your eyes as if you had seen something that wasn’t meant for you to see, was worth any possible embarrassment that could have followed. Because for a short moment, Bucky was sure he had seen a glimmer in your eyes. Not the kind of glimmer the girls in the ‘40s had had in their eyes when he had asked them to dance, the glimmer of a quick crush. But rather the glimmer that Sam always joked about being in Bucky’s eyes when he looked at you or talked about you.

The first few times Sam had teased him, Bucky had still reacted to it, worried you might find out about his hidden feelings for you, but soon he had realised Sam always made sure to do it without you noticing; he was a good guy after all.

But having seen this small spark in your eyes now, gave Bucky confidence like he hadn’t had in a long time. He had been good with the ladies once, he knew how to talk to them, make them swoon, and there had never been one who he had taken interest in, who he hadn’t gotten to take interest in him, too.

Oh, knowing he could probably get you to make a move on him without having to reveal his feelings first gave him a boost of confidence he knew would end in disaster. That left only the question of whether he wanted to. This was no date after all. It would be unfair of him to use what had been but a split second’s impression as a basis to turn a casual lunch into something you might not have intended at all. But did that mean he shouldn’t try?

Bucky was watching you closely, how you opened the menu and scanned the pages as if looking for something. You seemed nervous, biting your lip absentmindedly, and your eyes always flickering up, as if tempted to look at him. The good kind of nervous, he concluded, not the bad kind.

“I think, I’ll stick with pasta today,” you told him, finally looking up, allowing him a break from his racing thoughts.

“Oh, pasta sounds good,” Bucky agreed, “I think I’d like some carbonara. Haven’t had that in a while. At least if they don’t put cream in it.”

After Bucky’s unusually carefree and outright flirty gesture, the rest of lunch passed without any more incidents. Bucky ordered food and drinks for both of you in Italian, using the opportunity to ask whether there was cream in the carbonara (there wasn’t), and Bucky’s apparently fluid language skills were enough to draw several other staff members to your table, all of them Italian as it seemed and all of them in one way or another related Emillio.

As Bucky was talking to who he assumed to be the husband of the original waiter’s cousin, trying to explain that, no, you were not his wife, not his fiancée either, and no he was not about to propose to you, he could feel your eyes on him. Unable to help himself, he glanced over to you, finding you were watching as he was speaking in Italian, gesturing almost desperately to the clearly amused older man in front of him. You had tilted your head to the side a little, a soft smile on your face, your eyes taking in his gestures as if you were studying him. When he met your eyes, your smile broadened, and he lost his train of thoughts, stuttering over his own words, before quickly averting his gaze again. It was impossible really, how easily you made him lose his train of thoughts. All you had to do was smile at him and any rational thought was replaced by the thought of you.

The food was, for a lack of better words, otherworldly. It tasted better than anything he had eaten in a very long time, but he wasn’t sure how much of this credit should be paid to the kitchen, and how much to his company. You had eaten with a clear appetite, enjoying the meal as much as he did, sometimes closing your eyes in bliss at the delicious dish before you.

Of course, you had also tried almost killing him with a heart attack, as you had fed him some of your food with your own fork, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he had to remind himself that it wasn’t the first time. You often shared fries while walking in the park and yes, it had happened that you fed the fries to him, but usually Bucky followed up the action with a sharp stare over at Sam, as if daring the superhero to call out the gesture.

After finishing the meal, the plates had been taken away, and Bucky had ordered coffee and dessert for both of you, before you pulled out a small package you seemed to have hidden underneath your jacket.

“It’s nothing special,” you apologised, sliding the in flowered paper bound package over the table to Bucky.

“What is it,” he asked, a curious smirk pulling at his lips. 

“A birthday present. From both Sam and me. As I said, nothing special, but… you know.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment before he reached out, taking the package. Judging from the weight and the size, and the way it felt under his fingers, he suspected a book. Suddenly his throat started to feel weirdly rough, and he quickly swallowed away the awkwardness. 

“Ya didn’t have to get me anything’,” he quickly said, hoping his eyes didn’t look as wet as they felt. It had been a long time, a really long time since he had been given anything physical as a present that wasn’t meant to help him fulfil some kind of duty for the giver. 

“It’s your birthday, of course we had to,” you disagree. “Well, I say we but Sam wasn’t really that involved in the process. I think he’s more the ‘let’s make memories together’ kinda guy.”

Bucky chuckled at your description of Sam, remembering how he had threatened him with taking him out for drinks after coming back from the mission he was on now. Running his hands over the smooth wrapping paper, Bucky pointed to it.

“Can I open it?”

“That’s what it’s for, sure!”

Encouragingly you lent forward, propping your elbows on the table. The light of the candle between you mirrored in your eyes and for a moment, Bucky was threatened to get lost in the light that seemed to pour out from you, but then he quickly turned back to the package in front of him. Carefully he tore at the scotch tape, making sure not to rip the paper too much. Sure enough, once he folded the paper away, he revealed a book. Flipping it, he curiously studied the title.

“‘The Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship of the Ring’,” he read out loud, showing you the cover as if you hadn’t been the one who had chosen the book for him. “By… wait, that name sounds familiar. Tolkien… Isn’t that the author of ‘The Hobbit’?”

“That’s him,” you nodded, smiling as you watched Bucky flip the book over so he could study the cover himself again, the dark blue fabric with the silver imprinted letters. “It’s… well, it’s like a sequel to ‘The Hobbit’, but following Bilbo’s nephew. You mentioned having read ‘The Hobbit’, so I thought you might enjoy it. The whole ‘Lord of the Rings’ is three parts, but I need presents for Christmas and your next birthday, too, so don’t you dare buying the other books yourself.”

Bucky nodded with a smile, fighting the urge to look up at you again, flipping open the book instead.

“Oh, it has a map,” he exclaimed, quickly busying himself with studying the drawings, running his fingers over the familiar names of the Shire, Rivendell, the Misty Mountains. “Maps are good.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” you told him, and finally he gave himself permission to look up at you again. Which turned out to be a big mistake, because you had that soft expression in your eyes again, which made his knees weak and made him want to reach out over the table, intertwine his fingers with yours, and kiss your hand again without having to hide the admiration he held for you.

Not long after, your coffee and desserts got served, giving Bucky something else to focus on besides the way his heart kept beating at a fast pace, almost as if your presence alone kept him alive. That you still kept looking at him so softly, laughed freely at his jokes, and reached out to touch his hand once or twice was not helping him. 

As he was chewing on a spoonful of tiramisu, arguably the best he had ever had, he looked out of the window into the street beyond. It reminded him of the afternoons, in which his Ma had taken him to the café. The scent of black coffee in the air, the sweetness of a creamy treat on his tongue… sure, the street outside looked different, the clothes he wore, the company he kept. But at the heart of this memory there was always a window out into a busy street, the scent of coffee in the air, a dessert on his spoon and a woman he loved in front of him. Back then, it had been his mother, now you. You, who were so different from his mother, who he loved in such an entirely different way. But still he loved you, he loved you like he had never loved anyone before.

The realisation hit him in that moment, that yes, he had gone out with countless girls in his life, but none of them had ever even remotely meant as much to him as you did. What if he lost you, too? The same way he had lost everyone else he had ever loved, first his family and friends when he had gone to war, then Steve, when he had left him for the past? What if you left him too? What if his love would not be reciprocated? Was today just an outliner instead of a glimpse into his future? Would that soft look in your eyes fade again once he stepped outside this restaurant? Would the brush of your fingers against his stop meaning anything?

A soft touch against his cheek startled him back into the moment. Looking over, he realised he had frozen while looking outside, the spoon with the next bite of tiramisu halfway to his mouth. You had stood up from your seat, propping yourself up on the table with one hand, as you brushed at his cheek with the other, a concerned look in your eyes.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” 

“I-” Only then he realised that you had brushed at a tear that had run down from his eye. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was thinkin’ of my Ma and… she would take me out to a café on my birthday, every year. It was just her and me, showin’ me that even though she had three small children at home, I was still important to her. I was-” Bucky’s throat closed up, and he averted his eyes, from where you had sat back down again, only dropped his spoon into his plate, and ran his hand over his face. For the second time in less than an hour, realisation hit him so hard, that he felt like all air was knocked out of him. “My family loved me so much. My Ma, my Da, my sisters- I was loved so much.”

It was embarrassing, to cry in front of you, in a public restaurant of all places, but he couldn’t help it, he didn’t want to help it. He had to be honest about his thoughts to someone, and you had always felt like the safest person for that. While he tried regaining his composure, you took his other hand, wrapping both of yours around his, and held it tightly. 

“I’m happy that you had such a wonderful family,” you told him quietly. You didn’t tell him not to cry, didn’t tell him to calm down, he realised. You acknowledged his feelings, and that did not help his helpless love for you at all. “I’m happy you were loved by the people around you. And I’m so sorry that they’re gone now. But I need you to know that you are still loved. It can’t replace the way your mother loved you, or your father, or your sisters. But you are still loved.” You hesitated, and for a moment Bucky wondered whether you had read his thoughts, this nagging question of whether he was even still worth being loved after all he had done, after all the suffering he had caused. “And you are worth it Bucky, always have been.” Maybe you were destined to be with him, as his friend at least.

It took a few minutes for Bucky to calm down, before he felt confident enough to drop his hand away from his face again. All the time you never had let go of his other.

A few minutes passed, and he was back to smiling, thanking you quietly for being there for him, which you waved off with a smile, reminding him that you would always be there when he needed you to be. Besides, it was his birthday, and yes of course, you would be there for him on his birthday, too.

By the time you had finished your dessert and coffee as well, Bucky felt like he had lost all sense of time. And for the first time in a long time, he loved it. The lines between his old life and his new life were blurred by the feeling of your consideration for him, this feeling of being cared for so naturally being something he had not dared hoping he would ever get to experience again. At the same time, it seemed impossible to tell how much time had passed since you had stepped into the restaurant together. Had it been only twenty minutes or ten hours? And this morning seemed as fast as half a lifetime away anyway. 

When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Bucky quickly took the chance to pay for the meal, even though he knew you had wanted to invite him, which earned him a scolding and a pout from you, as you returned, but knowing smiles from the staff, who had insisted on not billing him for the dessert. In turn he made sure to tip them generously.

After you had calmed down from scolding him, and accepted your fate, you grabbed your jackets and headed out. The sun was shining, surprisingly warm spring air met you as you stepped outside, followed by the calls of ‘thank you’ and ‘come back soon’ from the waiters.

Bucky flipped up the collar of his leather jacket, as if subconsciously bracing himself for what was inevitably to come next: saying goodbye to you. You had spent already more than half of your day on him, had stressed yourself out the entire previous week to even make time for this, and while Bucky had spent half of his brain capacity over the past hour on finding a way to drag the inevitable out, he felt like it would be inappropriate for him to try and keep you around for much longer.

You had stepped out of the restaurant first, after he had held the door open for you, and now you were holding your face into the sun, eyes closed as you let the beams warm your skin.

For a moment, Bucky stopped in his tracks, just looking at you. You had never been especially guarded or scared around him, not even in the beginning, not more than one would be around a normal stranger anyway. Now, you were completely relaxed, a soft smile on your face, lashes resting against your cheeks, shoulders dropped casually. You were stunningly beautiful, Bucky realised, not for the first time. He wished he could take a picture of you like this, burn the memory into his brain to always return to this moment, you, standing in the sun, so relaxed and carefree, him, in his leather jacket, the book you had given him for this birthday in hand, the fabric of the spine weighing heavy against this skin.

“So!”

Tearing Bucky out of his happy little bubble, you turned to face him, eyes sparkling, happy. God, he loved you.

“Where to now,” you asked, turning to head towards the next bigger street, Bucky falling into step beside you. “I was thinking, since you’re interested in engineering, there’s this new, interactive museum in Manhattan, combining engineering and art, the Museum of Art and Technology. I don’t know if that’s something you’d be interested in, but it sounded kind of interesting…”

Bucky was only half listening to what you were saying, too distracted by the way your hand kept brushing against his with each step. Carefully he moved his fingers, prolonging the contact with the back of your hand for a few moments, and with the next time your skin brushed against the cool vibranium of his hand, you slipped your hand in his, wrapping your fingers around him in a manner that made his breath catch in his throat in the best way possible. In disbelief he looked up from the ground he had fixed his eyes on, surprised when he found you were already looking at him expectantly.

“What do you think,” you asked, clearly referring to a question he hadn’t caught, too distracted by the fact that you had just taken his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it were routine. He wanted it to be routine, wanted it to become routine. He’d never be able to forget the soft touch of your hand in his either way.

“Museum,” he asked back, the single word the last thing he had processed before getting distracted. 

“Of Art and Technology,” you repeated, looking away from him again. “Wanna go?”

“Now?”

“Sure, now. Why not?”

“Ya don’t want to- go home or…” Bucky trailed off, keeping his eyes on you, watching how you were walking next to him, still holding his hand. Were you really as calm as you seemed? Didn’t it turn your whole world upside down that you were holding his hand?

“What,” you laughed, “do you? Already had enough of me, Barnes? Wait-” Suddenly you stopped, turning to him, your fingers loosening around his, but he held on; he wasn’t prepared to let go of you yet. “Do you want to go home?”

Bucky stared at you, just half-registering your question. There was a sudden vulnerability, almost hurt, in your eyes, which he didn’t like. He didn’t want you to feel anything but safe and cared for while you were with him. The spark in your eyes had dimmed, and the open, unguarded gaze with which you had been looking at him the whole day, began closing up as if you were preparing to be told off.

Quickly Bucky shook his head. “No,” he told you, maybe more forcefully than necessary. “I don’t. I wanna go to that museum with ya. I wanna-” 

He stopped mid-sentence, not sure what exactly he was supposed to say other than that he wanted to keep spending time with you, that he was so infinitely glad that you had come to see him today, because it felt impossible to wait until Wednesday until he would allow himself to make up an excuse to see you.

But even those thoughts were lost when he looked at you, at how close you stood to him, still holding his hand, eyes widened slightly as if you were the one who was fearing rejection. Your lips were parted slightly, looking soft and sweet in the afternoon sun, their shape as perfect as if crafted by Michelangelo from living flesh. And that was where his mind stopped, like a cracked record, unable to move on from the thought of your lips, the thought of wanting to kiss your lips. He had wanted to do it for so long, had spent every minute in your presence wanting to kiss you. Why couldn’t being your friend be enough? Why did he have to want more than you had already given him? But he was selfish- for the first time in so, so long he was selfish enough to ask for something that was not offered to him.

“I wanna-” he repeated, unable to look away from you, “Can I kiss ya?”

Your eyes skipped between his for a terrifying moment, as if you were evaluating the honesty behind his words, and then you lent in, closing the gap between you, and pressed your lips to his, making his breath hitch and a shiver run down his spine. Closing his eyes, he gently tightened the hold on your hand, pulled you in until you stood chest to chest with him, and tried wrapping his arm around you without having to drop the book he was still holding. His whole world tipped over, gave the phrase of ‘falling in love’ a whole new meaning, but he didn’t mind it one bit, not with your hand on his chest, not with your lips, tasting of coffee and tiramisu against his, not when he could feel - not see, but feel - the way you smiled into the kiss.

When you pulled away, Bucky knew he was wearing the widest grin, not that he minded. It seemed like you noticed, too, because you reached up, and ran your thumb over his chin, along the lower line of his lips, scanning his face with what seemed like infinite softness in your eyes.

“Did you think I’d say no,” you teased, making him shake his head slightly.

“Can never know, love,” he offered with a smirk, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Where’d that nickname come from,” you teased, slowly pulling away, Bucky giving in only reluctantly.

“Oh, would ya prefer sweetheart? Honey? Angel?”

“Stop it,” you laughed, clearly flustered, making him grin wider. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Trust me, I haven’t even tried yet,” Bucky chuckled, pulling you into his side affectionately. “So, museum ya said. In Manhattan?”

Nodding, you began walking to the closest subway station, and while you started explaining about the museum, Bucky couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky, his birthday could become his favourite day of the year again.

[goosewriting]

idk about you but joaquin drunk confessing that he's been in love w you since he first saw you is so personal to me

Enamorado

summary: Joaquín’s drunken love confession. 

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol, drunk behaviour, established relationship

word count: ~760

A/N: i’m honestly not even sure if this was meant as a request or not but it was too good not to write something for 😩💕 you're so right anon,, have this lil blurb mwah (be safe when drinking, kids)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(title means "in love" in spanish)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Usually, you don’t go to bars much, but this time it was a special occasion, so you went out with Joaquín and Sam. Even Bucky joined you, but now that he's a proper citizen and all, he left early. 

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s 2:46 am. Looking over your shoulder from where you sit at the bar, you see Sam on the dance floor, and smile to yourself. He’s having a good time, it seems. Joaquín is next to you, and as your eyes go back to him, he’s putting down his drink he just emptied. He looks at you with a goofy grin. 

“Alright, then, that’s enough for you,” you say with a gentle smile, pushing his glass a little farther away from his hands. “Let’s take a break, yeah?”

You’re fairly tipsy yourself, but Joaquín is proper drunk now. He doesn’t let himself get to this point often. Luckily he doesn’t get angry or physical when intoxicated, instead he turns to absolute mush, incoherent mumblings about how much he loves you and Sam leaving his lips incessantly, muttering about how glad he is to be part of the group, how badly he wants to meet the Avengers. He also gets a little clingy, not that you mind. His hands will always be on you somewhere, your leg, your back, your face. 

Right now, he’s leaning his forehead on your shoulder, grumbling under his breath, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“Wanna go take some fresh air?,” you offer.

Joaquín nods, getting off his stool, and he lets you pull him to the back, where you exit to a small patio. You breathe in the cool night air, the buzzing in your ears starting to dissipate. You lean onto the wooden fence and look out to the city below, the lights moving and dancing in the distance like a painting. Or maybe you just can’t focus your eyes right now.

You feel something warm coming up behind you, and Joaquín’s arms snake around your middle as he hugs you into his chest. He hums, swaying you both lightly from side to side, and you laugh, turning within his hold to face him, and you cup his face. His skin feels hot, and you can see the redness on his cheeks even in the dim light.

“You need to learn to pace yourself,” you say.

“Ssshuddup. Sam’s fault,” he retorts, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“Right,” you chuckle. Sam and Joaquín did make some bet or other about how many drinks they could have before losing the ability to walk a straight line.

When he pulls back, his chocolate eyes find yours, albeit slightly out of focus, but his gaze holds so much warmth and affection, you can’t help but get lost in them. He hums again, a smile spreading on his lips. You tilt your head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you ask.

“You.”

“Yeah?” Your heart flutters.

“Always,” he confirms.

“Anything specific?”

“I, when you…” he starts, struggling to form real words. “Desde el primer momento en que te vi…”

You chuckle, softly pinching his cheek, then cup his face again.

“English, please.”

“You, it’s always been you,” he speaks more clearly this time, and quickly turns his head to place a kiss to your inner wrist. “From the very moment I first saw you, I’ve been in love with you.”

You swallow, tears stinging behind your eyes as you smooth over his cheekbones with your thumbs. Joaquín’s hands slide from your waist to your back to push you closer into him.

“Madly,” he says, and places a kiss on your forehead. “Entirely.” Another on the tip of your nose. “Desperately.” His speech is a bit more slurred on that one, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, giggling goofily as he pulls back to look at you.

You mirror his love struck gaze, softly running your fingers through his curls before you hold the back of his head to pull him close, capturing his lips. It’s not as elegant as it could have been, kissing somewhat sloppily in the dark of night, but you can feel how earnest his words are in the way he holds you, breathes you in. And with every wet kiss he places wherever he can reach, he whispers ‘I love you’s into your skin, the press of his lips leaving a trail of fire, burning his words into your body, to remind you that you’re his and he’s yours. Madly, entirely, desperately. 

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8293 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala @crazy4lyricb

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

[siancore]

hi hi hi how are you?

So I have a sambucky prompt which I understand if you don't want to write for any reason and you can just put this out in fandom for someone else to find

So umm thunderbolts/cap4 era in which Sam and joaquin are fake dating and bucky either knows but have to pretend in front of all the other members to be sad or he doesn't know and actually gets sad?

I know it's cliche and all but Idk I thought it can be fun

And I love your sambucky fics that's why I came to you

Hey. I’m okay, thank you for asking. This is actually awesome. I love this premise. It’s canon in TFATWS that Bucky is annoyed at Torres for no good reason lol he’s always pissy with Torres. And I fully believe it’s because he can sense the chemistry between Sam and Joaquín. He’s such a dick to Joaquín and it’s funny because if Sam and Torres didn’t have such amazing chemistry, Bucky wouldn’t be such a dick about it. Like I said, I love this premise. And honestly, it never crossed my mind to write Sam and Torres fake dating for a mission. I love writing jealous Bucky, and this feeds right into that. So, so good. Let me add it to my prompt list. Thanks for dropping by. And thanks for the love and support x

[petertingle-yipyip]

SENSES - JOAQUIN TORRES

(will probably change the gif when i can find a better one of him in that suit. also, testing the waters with a new character bc @fallingfavourites basically dared me to. what do we think?)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader // Word Count: 2,840

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple in and out ends up with a lot of blood and admissions.

“The gala’s an easy in.” You reasoned.

“It’s a stupid way in.” Sam shook his head.

“It’s not stupid!”

“We can admit it’s a risk, right?” Bucky tried.

You blew out a sigh and leaned further back in your chair. Sam sat in the chair closest, leaning elbows on the table in thought. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the table across from you with the permanent frown he seemed to point in your direction.

“We need the ledger.” You calmly stated. “I have an invitation to their building. They’ve been inviting my family to their events for years trying to win back my mom’s money. I have the best chance at getting in and out.”

“If we go along with this, you’re not going alone.” Sam continued.

“Course not. I’d never go to an event like that without a date.”

“This is serious, Y/N.” Bucky scolded.

“Well aware, thank you.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going with either of you. My mom would never let me.”

“Your mom’s not here.”

“But these people know my mother. We went to a couple

of these before she got tired of the ass kissing. I had a date each time with a specific image.”

“What kind of image?” Sam asked though Bucky simply groaned in annoyance.

“Pretty boy.” You shrugged.

“Oh.” Sam scoffed. “I’m not pretty enough for you mom?”

“No.” You laughed. “Neither of you are, but…”

“Don’t say it.” Bucky pointed firmly at you. “He’s not going.”

“I don’t like this anymore than you, Barnes.” You snapped. “You really think I want to take him anywhere?”

“What ever happened between you two anyway?” Sam asked so you turned his way with a fierce glare. “Just asking.” His hands went up in surrender.

“He didn’t tell you?” You stared in suspicion.

“For once, the kid wouldn’t talk.” Bucky answered.

“He’s not a kid.”

“You both are.”

“Buck’s right.” Sam chimed in. “You two used to not be able to stop making eyes at each other then suddenly, you’re avoiding each other like the plague.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You pushed yourself to stand. “I’m bringing him, regardless of anyone’s feelings about it.”

“And if he says no?” Bucky asked.

You frowned at the valid question. If Joaquin said no, you didn’t have a backup plan ready. Instead of confessing that, you spun on your heel and headed to find your former flame.

It wasn’t hard. He was at his computers. You stood beside him and leaned against the edge of his desk. It took a minute for him to register that it was you beside him.

“Hey.” He said carefully. You watched his eyes scan your face quickly before he frowned. “Everything good?”

“You have a suit?” You asked.

“Like a… Like a suit suit?” His voice dropped to a hushed tone.

“No.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile. You quickly shook the expression. “Like a nice suit, for going out.”

“Oh… Yeah, I’ve got one somewhere. Why?”

“We’re going to a gala to take a ledger.” You shrugged.

“Why us?” His brows furrowed but you noticed there was no objection.

“My family has an invite and you clean up nice… You can say no.”

“No!” He said quickly and you raised a brow. “I mean… No, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just kinda figured you’d wanna take someone else.” He explained carefully.

“Unfortunately, no one else fits the bill.” You sighed. 

“You never know.” He shrugged slightly. “Might be fun… Kinda like old times, right?”

“We’ll see… Tomorrow night, be ready by five to head to New York.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you, the same damned grin that made your heart beat a little faster.

You had to force your features to remain neutral until you were sure he couldn’t see. You assumed he had seen the flush of your cheeks at the least and you cursed yourself for that.

You hated that you and him didn’t end on necessarily bad terms. You two just couldn’t make it work. Both of you were too focused on other things to truly be present

in your relationship so for all the “moon eyes” Sam swore he saw and the “lost puppy looks” Bucky teased you about, it just hadn’t gone the way you wanted.

But damn it all if you didn’t wish otherwise. Keeping

distance from him was what you thought was best so you both could move on. Your heart, however, didn’t seem to get the memo.

The night of the gala was relatively predictable. Joaquin dawned an all-black ensemble that had you in silent awe when you first saw him. You knew he could dress up when the occasion called for it, but something about the monochrome look hit you hard. You forced yourself

to focus.

Joaquin, however, didn’t hide the way he was blown away by your look. The perfectly tailored gown took his breath away. He couldn’t stop himself from trailing his eyes up and down your figure, tracing the lines of the bodice down to the shape of your hips to that teasingly

high slit in the skirt, which dangerously showed off your legs that looked even longer with the heels you wore.

He didn’t have words for the way the color suited your skin tone, the complimentary tones of your makeup, the delicate pinned style of your hair. He ran a hand over his mouth to hide the smile at the necklace around your throat, the one he had given you for your birthday when you were together.

Sam was waiting with Joaquin and the man let out a long whistle that snapped Joaquin out of his trance.

You laughed slightly before flipping your teammate off.

“Ha ha.” You said sarcastically. “I’ll have you know my mother designed this dress.”

“It’s nice.” Joaquin offered honestly. “You look…” He blew out a breath. “Wow.”

“Thanks.” You nodded slightly, fiddling with the fabric of the skirt. “You look good, too.” You confessed.

He smiled proudly and it was hard not to smile back.

“Alright, alright. Enough of that.” Sam laughed slightly. “Tonight you need to have each others backs, got it? None of this scorned lovers bullshit you pull around here.”

“No one is scorned.” You rolled your eyes. “We’re going to a gala, not infiltrating an enemy stronghold.”

“You kinda are.” Sam countered. “Be quick and be careful. Sooner you guys are back, sooner this is over.”

“Well aware, thank you.” You took hold of Joaquin’s arm and dragged him to the car.

The ride to the event was relatively quiet. The music from the stereo filled the gaps and you were thankful to be driving so you could focus on the road rather than the man in the car with you. Your fingers tapped to the music while Joaquin was playing on his phone.

The gala itself was the same as you remembered. Your arm laced through Joaquin’s, you two fell into an easy stride. You liked the confidence he showed, offering a welcome grin to the people who came to kiss up to you and engaging in conversations when prompted.

“I like this one.” One of the older female investors quietly told you with a sly smile while her husband chatted with Joaquin a few feet away about something you weren’t listening to. “He’s much better than the rest you’ve brought to these things.”

You smiled in agreement and looked over at your date. He waved slightly and you found yourself returning the gesture.

“He’s great.” You agreed, trying unsuccessfully to keep the sadness from your voice.

“Let me guess.” She put a hand over yours. “Mommy doesn’t approve?”

You forced a laugh as if you’d been caught. You hadn’t even considered what your mother would say about Joaquin. She’d probably love him, probably would’ve started dishing out down-payments for your wedding by now.

“My father hated my husband when I brought him home.” The woman laughed. “Destiny used to seem make-believe, but you’re destined for fall. You can’t choose who it is, and neither can your mother.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You nodded in thanks and made it back to Joaquin. You tucked yourself into his side and looked to the man he spoke with. “I hate to be rude, but I’d like to reclaim my date.”

“By all means.” The man gestured for you to go. “He’s a charming young man. Well done, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You nodded in thanks and pulled Joaquin away.

“You know, I think I’m getting the hang of this whole ‘rich people party’ thing.” Joaquin said proudly, tugging the front of his jacket slightly.

“Cool it, Casanova.” You laughed slightly. “We’re not here to network.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. So… Where do we go now?”

You two managed to sneak away relatively quickly. You searched various offices, going up and up in floors until you nearly gave up. It was practically the last office on the last floor when Joaquin found it wedged behind a bookcase.

“I could kiss you!” You said happily.

He flushed immediately, stammering for a real response, and you had to laugh. You hugged the book and went for the exit.

You had only a split second to regret that decision. Not enough time for you to recognize the threat, to register the flash of silver, to reach for your own blade in your corset.

A sharp pain ignited in a long line down your back. The burning sensation wrapped from your back, around your waist and stopped near your belly button. You looked down in shock and saw the split in your gown, the growing stain of blood.

You wobbled on your feet from the explosion of pain and felt a strong pair of arms catch you. A warm piece of fabric was draped over your shoulders and pulled close. The hand that wasn’t locked on the ledger was wrapped around your midsection, trying to keep the blood inside your body.

That sword almost cut you in half.

You didn’t even register he was talking to you until he shook your shoulders.

“Y/N, we need to move. Can you walk?” He asked firmly.

Any hint of the charming, flirty man you masqueraded with was gone. In his place was the battle trained soldier, looking out for his own. He was looking into your eyes, and your heart sank at the worry reflected.

It really was bad.

“You’re not dying here. Understand?” He insisted.

You managed a weak nod and followed him out. He managed to keep you two in the shadows for the most part, avoiding the brunt of the search for you. You had only encountered three men, thankful they didn’t have swords as well, and you used the ledger to knock one of them out while Joaquin managed against the other two.

When you came back to the gala, Joaquin did the talking. He said you two were heading out for a much funner night but you’d sing their praises to your mother. A few name drops and handshakes later, Joaquin was able to get you into the car and begin the drive back.

Maybe an hour into the drive, you began to slip in and out of consciousness.

He reached over and immediately took your hand in his. He gave it a squeeze and your eyes opened a little wider.

“Stay with me, Y/N… C’mon.” He begged.

“We need to… to stop somewhere.” You said between shallow breaths. The bleeding had slowed but you were left exhausted and cold, despite Joaquin’s jacket still over your shoulders, and you had kicked off your heels at some point. You had half a thought to ask if you had bled through it. “We can’t drive… all the… all the way back…  like this.”

“Where are we gonna stop?” His voice was near desperation and you couldn’t stop the pang of guilt.

“Anywhere.” You gritted your teeth as you shifted in the seat. You took as deep a breath as you could manage and rapidly spoke in one long exhale. “First hotel you see. I don’t care the price or the quality or the size. You find us a room and make sure I live through this night.”

He said nothing but squeezed your hand again.

You didn’t know how long it was until you were pulling into a run down roadside hotel. You rummaged through your purse for your credit card and shoved it at him. He promised he’d be quick before locking you in the car.

True to his word, he was at your door with a room key quickly. He practically carried you to the hotel room.

Once the door closed, you all but collapsed. He was quick to catch you, but he wasn’t able to avoid your injury. You cried out at the pain, gripping his shirt sleeve.

He helped you to the bathroom and you needed his help to get the dress off. You didn’t know if it was his hands shaking or your body. The dress fell with a thud, leaving you in short spandex and a bra. Joaquin ran the tap and used one of the towels to clear the blood away. The friction of the rough fabric against the tender skin had you gripping the sink and wincing sharply.

“Shit, Y/N.” He muttered. You glanced up to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“That bad?” You rasped. Your body weight was mostly supported by the countertop.

“Now would be a great time for some special healing ability.” He flicked his attention to you with a nervous smile. “Any chance?”

“No.” You offered the same smile. “My bag in the trunk… It has a kit if you…”

“Hey.” His hands found your hips and turned you around. “Stay with me.”

“Trying…”

“Try harder.”

You nodded quietly, placing a hand on his arm. He looked down at it, smiled to himself, then focused on the slash across your stomach.

“Keep talking.” Your voice was close to a whisper but somehow, Joaquin heard.

“I, uh…” He began nervously. “I used to think you’d come to your senses, but you never did. You left me alone with all these questions… I didn't have answers but I also couldn’t have given you more.”

He squeezed your hip slightly and you made a noise of acknowledgement.

“I guess I accepted that you wouldn’t be mine again but…”

“But?” You croaked.

“I’ll always be yours, Y/N.”

You chuckled slightly as Joaquin’s eyes met yours.

“Tell me that when I’m coherent.” You smiled slightly.

He laughed a bit and nodded. “Let’s dress these wounds and get you something to eat. The guys’ll be pissed if you don’t make it back.”

You hummed in agreement and leaned into him. He guided you to the bed and sat you on the edge before he scurried off. Within five minutes, he was back with your pack on his shoulders and an arm full of vending machine treats.

He shoved an orange juice bottle and packet of pretzels into your hands while he rummaged in your pack. You lifted your arms while he placed, wrapped, and taped the dressing into place. The pain had dulled since you first got the wound or maybe you were used to it. The dizziness was receding slowly thanks to the snack Joaquin brought, which were both empty by the time he finished.

“Thank you.” You dropped the trash to the end table.

“I’m always here for you, Y/N, whether you want it or not.” He put a hand to your cheek for a moment.

“Joaquin, I…” You began, then found yourself lost for words.

There were things you could apologize for. But should you apologize for breaking up with him? For avoiding him? For getting yourself nearly sliced in half?

“We can talk about it later.” He offered kindly. “You feel okay?”

“All things considered, yeah… I’ll make it.”

“Good.” The relief was palpable in his tone. “You should rest now.”

You nodded quietly and shifted back against the flat pillow. The blanket was thin and scratchy, but the exhaustion overruled the quality of the bedding. You were lucid enough, however, to notice Joaquin wasn’t lying down.

“Joaquin?”

“The couch pulls out.” He reasoned.

“You should have the bed.” You began to push yourself up but his hands were gently forcing you back down. “Let me-“

“You almost bled out tonight. I think you deserve the bed.”

You grabbed one of his hands. “We can share. We’ve done it before.”

“You sure?”

“Please?” You pulled your best pout and he broke almost immediately.

He discarded his dress shirt and slacks before climbing into the bed beside you. You rolled to your other side to face him.

“Maybe it’s the near death experience talking…” You said quietly, as if you two were sharing secrets. “But I think I’ve come to my senses.”

“Yeah?” He brushed some loose hairs off your forehead. “Tell me in the morning.”

[happypopcornprincess]

Under the Same Sky Part 2

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.2K

Warnings: Gore, blood, SMUT, minors DNI

a/n - I'm sorry for being late about the second part, a relative of mine passed away after new year and I was with family. This part is dedicated to all the lover girls by heart out there. may you find your lover and have an amazing story. Hope you guys like it <3 Take care.

The wind picked up speed as Lucas and his team stepped on the backyard of the Wilson Residence. Guns drawn, stance ready, they took the steps to the back entrance.

Nadia and Artie moved in first, Matt in tow and Lucas in the end. They hear not a single sound around them. Matt signaled clear after checking the rooms and the kitchen, Nadia let her shoulders relax watching him sign.

“Where are they?” Artie whispered.

The radio in the kitchen turns on its own accord…

Can't stay at home, can't stay at school

Old folks say, "Ya poor little fool"

Down the streets I'm the girl next door

I'm the fox you've been waiting for!

Lucas shoots the radio; the broken device fell to the floor with a thud. A scratched-out sound of Cherry Bomb still playing on.

“That’s a shame…”

Nadia was too slow to turn before you hit her head with the butt of your Glock, “I love that song.”

Artie fell on the floor as Joaquin kicked him in the back, you advanced towards Matt. The first thing that bastard did was to kick off the floor and punch you square in the jaw, but you duck in record time, just to kick his feet off the ground and lose your Glock in the process.

Joaquin got busy with Artie and Lucas, who had teamed up to defeat him. Lucas ducked a kick on his chest, and Artie tried to stab him in the neck. Joaquin got a knife out of his belt and fought with all his might, after throwing Lucas on the kitchen table.

Matt was twice your size, he got up in no time trying to throw you off your feet but you were smarter than that, you ran on the wall, kicking off it and using the velocity to climb his shoulders. You pull a hidden wire from your wrist, falling back and choking him in the process. Matt fought hard to get a hold of you, but you pressed on harder. His movements slowed down, and eventually he stilled as you released the wire.

Joaquin was pinned down on the ground with Artie on top of him, his blade inches away from his windpipe. Joaquin pushed hard on his end of blade, trying to nick off his collarbone. Lucas came rushing towards them now recovered from being thrown on the table… Joaquin threw off all his strength to turn his entire body sideways, which in turn put Artie on the side, giving him a chance to stab him just where his neck met his shoulder.

You got up to rush to Lucas, but fell face first feeling a stronghold on your ankle. Turning, you meet a very pissed off looking Nadia with blood covering her face.

She held a Glock, your glock, aiming at you. You kick her in the face, grabbing your knife in the holster. You sit up to stab her in the back, just an inch away from her heart.

So why was it that you felt a sharp jab on your shoulder?

You look at the source, only to see a blade sticking out of your right shoulder. Nadia’s hand being the holder. She looked you right in the eye as she twisted the blade deeper. You grunt, stabbing the woman again and again until she stopped.

Unbearable pain clouded your senses, but Joaquin’s voice brought you back to your senses, turning towards him to see him spar with Lucas, taking punches and pulling ones. You got on your knees to snatch your Glock from Nadia’s dead fingers, keeping an eye on Joaquin.

Blood ran down his elbow from his palm, he staggered on his feet trying to get a jab at Lucas, but found himself covered in his brains once you shot Lucas in the forehead.

You sighed, feeling your tank top getting wet with blood. It felt like an out of body experience, Natasha’s voice echoing somewhere inside your head; “Your brain is in shock trying to process the pain. Get the blade out, press on a cloth and get the hell out of here before one of them wakes up.”

“y/n, look at me.” Joaquin grabbed your face, making you look at him. He glanced at the knife sticking out of your body. “This might hurt.” Saying so he pulled on the blade, prying it off.

You screamed out loud as he pressed hard on your shoulder with a cloth bandage.

How are you lying on the floor?

Joaquin lifted you up like you weighed nothing, “We gotta go. Come on…” resting your head on his shoulder, you try not to pass out looking at the blood running down his face.

------------------------------

Seeing double with an open stab wound was never good news. Joaquin’s jacket did enough to hide the blood and bandage on your shoulder, but it was only a matter of time until some keen observer in the hotel lobby looked at you long enough to know you were unwell.

Leaning on the wall next to you, you watched as Joaquin came towards you and wrapped his arm over your shoulder, careful of your wound, he whispers, “you alright?”

“Kinda.” Your words came out slurred.

“Let’s go.” He led you towards your room, and despite knowing there was no chance of you being followed, you still looked over your shoulder.

As soon as the door opened, you limped towards the bed and Joaquin closed the door and the blinds. Taking off your jacket, you made the rookie mistake of taking a glance at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was unkempt, your tank top’s strap was torn to pieces, the entire right side of your body covered in blood. The open wound right under your collarbone stared back at you through the mirror.

The room suddenly felt too small, the taste of metal heavy on your tongue.

“whoa!” Joaquin grabs your left side before you fall to the floor, his eyes find yours, and it is then you see the hidden fear in his eyes. He acted fine until now, witnessing the amount of damage on your body.

He helps you sit on the bed, and lean back on the headboard while pressing his jacket on your torso before tearing off your straps. Holding out a piece of rolled up fabric, he holds out to your mouth, “you’ll need this.” You’ve been through this before, never on this scale; but you don’t argue with him before biting into it.

The last thing you felt before blacking out was the burning sensation of rubbing alcohol on your skin and Joaquin’s hand holding yours.

----------------------------

The smell of spirit lingered in the air, as you were woken up from deep sleep by a gentle voice. Opening your eyes, you see the bedside digital clock showing 02:18, and your eyes travel to Joaquin sitting on a chair next to the bed. His white vest had spots of blood, your blood, on it. His right hand was bandaged poorly, and the cut above his eyebrow had two butterfly tapes.

“You scared me for a while.” He says while gently caressing your forehead.

“What happened?” you groaned, trying to sit up, he placed a pillow behind you as you leaned back on the headboard. You look down at your body to find your tank top gone, and you wore Joaquin’s Air Force T Shirt. You look at him again to see his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his eyes heavy. He hadn’t slept the entire night.

“You passed out while I was cleaning your wound, I woke you up to give you some medicines, and you fell asleep.”

“I don’t remember that.” You huffed out, looking at the ceiling.

Joaquin holds your hand, and you feel the rough bandage on your skin, “are you alright?” you look at him and his line of vision, which were trained on your hand.

“yeah.” You sit up straighter, and take his hand in yours, “I’m fine Joaquin, hey,” you gently hold his face that makes him look at you, “I promise.” You smile.

You rest his injured hand on your lap and open the bandage to redo it properly. The next few minutes are spent in silence, the occasional honk and sound of passing vehicles outside being the only noise. You take a proper look at his hand after you’re done, and you bring it to your lips to kiss.

Joaquin inhales sharply as your lips touch his fingers, and your eyes lock on his.

“I thought I would lose you today.” He says, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips.

“I ain’t going anywhere Joaquin. I’m right here.” Your voice came out as a whisper, and he held your face in his hands.

He looks into your eyes again, silently asking for your consent, and your reply wordlessly by leaning towards him.

The kiss was gentle.

Joaquin’s lips were featherlight on yours and you closed your eyes to feel him whole. Holding the back of his neck you brought him closer as you fell back on the headboard, and he climbed the bed to hover over you.

You kiss each other slowly, letting go of the fear of losing each other flow through it.

You savor it; the warmth of his body, his breath on your face, his hands on your waist. He continues to kiss you as his hands traveled your body, and you didn’t open your eyes in fear that it was some kind of dream. 

He cautiously pulls you down on the mattress, your back meeting the sheets of your motel bed. Joaquin gets on his knees to take off his vest, tossing it on the floor. Your eyes couldn’t leave his toned torso, and his broad shoulders covered you entirely when he leaned forward, trailing kisses on your neck. The contrast in the touch of both his hands; one bandaged and one not… you closed your eyes yet again to just feel his touch on your skin. You couldn’t breathe by the way he bit your neck, and you arched your back as his hands gathered the t-shirt to roll it up to your ribs.

“We can stop if you want to.” He says in between kisses, and you moan, “no, please… don’t.”

“As you wish…” he says, his breath hot on your neck. He kissed you right in the valley of your breasts, and sucked on your skin.

You locked eyes with him as he carefully removed the t-shirt off of your body, leaving you in only your jeans. You grabbed a fistful of his hair as his lips left open mouthed kisses on your nipples, you heard him moan as he squeezed your breasts, a sound that made you pull on his hair harder, which only made him louder.

Joaquin made quick work on his belt as you quickly removed your jeans, but he clutched your hand halfway, “wait…” stumbling on his words, “uh… you’re hurt… let me…” he held your jeans and you let them go, as he pulled them down your legs and on the floor.

His hands caressed your thighs, and his gaze lingered on your body. The intensity of it made you shiver, but it wasn’t lust you saw in them.

He wanted you, needed you. Recalling the kiss that you shared earlier today; this was the complete opposite of it. This was pure adoration. 

You were his reverence.

While the shadow of his tousled hair masked his forehead, he locked eyes with you. As he lowered his body bringing his face closer to your thighs, you didn’t dare look away. You arched your back as Joaquin’s arms held you down, his muscles flexing as he kissed your inner thigh, and a loud whine left your lips as he tasted you on his tongue. 

He stopped only when your moans turned into screams, and when you looked at him while heaving for breath, he was gasping for air, his pupils blown, but the gaze still gentle.

You locked your legs on his waist before you could stop yourself, and tossed him on the bed. Now he was under you, and you could feel how eager he was as you looked down at his tented boxers.

Joaquin caressed your waist, “take it easy, y/n.” as he shifted his gaze to your injured shoulder.

“Sure.” you breathed out, heart racing, as you lifted yourself up while he removed his boxers. As soon as you touched him to stroke, he fell back on the bed, his brows knit in pleasure. You laughed; watching how he was reacting to your touch.

“Huh… that wasn’t funny, querida.” he huffed, and you gasped as he grabbed your waist to pull himself up.

Joaquin was now inches away from your face, his chest pressed to yours as he locked his arms around your waist. You tried to wrap yours around his neck, but you hissed as a sharp pain shot through your injured shoulder straight to your neck.

“Ow!” you buried your face on the nape of his neck, as he stiffened within you.

“Told you to take it easy.” he whispered as he caressed your hair, “you wanna stop?”

“No,” you whined, lifting your face to look at him, “no… I…” you huffed out, “I want you.”

He exhaled, replying with a warm smile, “okay.”

Joaquin gently held both of your wrists and brought your hands to his face to let you hold on to his neck, and you gladly did. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and closed his eyes before leaving a kiss on your lips. He pulled you closer as you lowered yourself on him, moaning in each other’s mouths. As you moved, he kept on kissing you. 

Your pace increased as you felt his heartbeat on your skin, his hands grabbing your back. He kissed your face as you lifted your chin, leaving trails on your face and reaching your neck, but you grabbed his hair, pulling him back and exposing his neck to you. Sucking on his neck, you hugged him back, the sharp jab on your shoulder now least of your worries. He pushed into you as you continued to suck and bite his skin wherever you could. He tried his best not to pull your hair, but failed as he grabbed a handful by the end only to bring you closer.

Fighting for air, you kissed him on his mouth… stroking him even after he came inside you.

Joaquin fell back on the bed, bringing you into his arms; exhausted, spent, the two of you fighting for breath. 

You shifted to your uninjured side and you held him while resting your head on his chest; groaning, he adjusted himself so you could lay your head in his arms and stroked your hair,

Both you and Joaquin couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other. He was a sight to behold—his unruly hair sticking to his forehead, his face flushed, and the marks you left on his skin gradually shifting in color.

“You good?” he whispers, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your bare back.

“Yeah. You?” you murmur, feeling the weight of sleep beginning to settle in.

A chuckle bubbles in his throat, and you can't help but smirk when he slaps a hand over his eyes, letting out a soft laugh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you tease, poking his cheek.

“You are…” he sighs, his voice serious but amused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really skilled with what you did earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a giggle. “You mean the way I body-slammed a Flag Smasher? Or are you talking about…”

“Uh…” He glances up at the ceiling, and you swear you see him blush. “Both.”

You both burst into laughter, and he pulls the covers over you, tucking you close to him. As your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat when his fingers trail over your bare back once more.

“Can’t we stay like this forever?” he asks, his voice soft. “This feels like a dream.”

“It’s real.” You reach up, your fingers gently brushing the cut over his eye. “And even if it is a dream, it’s the best one I’ve ever had.”

His gaze softens at your words, and with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he confesses, “Stay right here, will you?”

You nod, your voice a quiet whisper. “Yes.”

And with that, you slip into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

--------------------------------

Three Weeks Later, Wilson Residence

Karli was dead, the Flag Smashers were wiped out in a mysterious blast (which Zemo swore he had no part in), and John Walker had vanished off the radar. Sam was now Captain America. You and Joaquin had managed to sit that one out due to injuries, and life—relatively speaking—was almost back to normal.

The last three weeks had been the most peaceful stretch you’d had since the Thanos attack in New York. After a brief visit to Sarah’s newly renovated house—where Sam had to fight you off when you offered to pay for everything—you and Joaquin were finally heading to Arizona. He was finally going to take you to see the Canyons, a promise he’d made all the way back in that attic you two had shared.

It was night now, the kids were asleep, but the dinner table in the Wilson residence was anything but quiet, as Sam and Bucky were recounting the first time they met Spiderman.

“…and we got this kid climbing on the roof, he slams Bucky onto the floor, and screams out something about impressing Tony…”

“…and then he webs you to the escalator…” Bucky grumbles in-between.

“…I was getting to that! Anyways, I let redwing take care of the rest and send him flying through the airport and dump him midair. Ha!” Sam laughs, waiting for a reaction.

Sarah leans forward, utterly bewildered, “So you dropped a kid midair because he webbed you to an escalator?”

Bucky stops her with a laugh, “In our defense, he was on the opposite team!”

You couldn't help teasing him, “Still, you attacked a kid.”

Sam threw a baby carrot at you. “Okay, okay! Stop throwing food, Sam. What are you, five?”

Sam was about to throw another one at youtube bucky grabbed the baby carrots bowl and passed it to sarah, who gladly put it out of his reach.

You shifted your attention to Joaquin, who was looking at the whole ordeal trying not to laugh. The cut above his eye had almost healed, only a faint trail of new skin the only sign that there ever was any injury. 

“We have something to tell you guys,” Joaquin said, his voice a little too casual for the tension in the air. He reached under the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You squeezed his hand in return, giving him a warm smile before you turned to look at Sam, Bucky, and Sarah.

Joaquin looked at you, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, and then he said it: “Y/N and I are dating.”

The table went silent for a second, and then Sarah’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you both!”

Sam laughed loudly, throwing his head back, while Bucky froze, fork halfway to his mouth.

Bucky stared at the two of you in disbelief, his fork clicking loudly as it dropped to his plate. “Wait a minute... how long has this been going on?”

You winced. “About three weeks, maybe?”

Bucky groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “Three weeks? So, you’ve been hiding this from us?”

Joaquin shifted nervously in his seat. “Yeah, about that.”

“I swear, if you hurt Y/N—” Bucky's voice turned deadly serious, his Vibranium arm rising as he pointed it at Joaquin. “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Joaquin quickly held up his hands. “I would never—”

“Good.” Bucky nodded, satisfied. “Just making sure, You two gross me out.” Bucky side eyes you as you respond by leaving a loud smooch on Joaquin’s cheek.

“Yeah, I’m gonna throw up.” Bucky grimaces and gets up from the table with his beer.

“Get outta here old man.” You scream, all in playfulness as he slams the porch door. Bucky had a knick of theatrics, and you knew deep down he was happy for you.

“He didn’t mean that, Buck’s a secret romantic and I bet you ten bucks he’s crying happy tears on the back porch.” Sam tells you both as you begin to clear out the table.

“I know.” You laugh, helping Joaquin with the dishes.

As Sarah and Sam left for their rooms, you and Joaquin took over cleaning the kitchen. The house fell into a quiet rhythm, the only sound the soft hum of the water running in the sink as you both washed the dishes.

“That went well,” Joaquin said, nudging your shoulder as you stacked the plates in the drying rack.

“Don’t worry, Sam and Sarah adore you. Bucky does too, he’s just... well, too stubborn to show it.” You rolled your eyes, feeling his hands wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you close.

He kissed your neck lightly as you finished stacking the last of the plates. “That was the last one,” you said, leaning back into him, letting yourself enjoy the closeness.

“Mmm-hmm...” You smirked, resting your hands on his as he tightened his grip around your waist.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear.

“I know,” you murmured, leaning back further into his chest. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his breath soft in your ear.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” he grumbled, his voice low and inviting as he hugged you tighter.

You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder. “We’re sleeping on the couch, babe.”

His hands moved slowly to your hips as he nuzzled your neck, “Wanna take this to the couch then?” His playful tone was backed by the softest puppy eyes you’d ever seen.

Before you could even consider it, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Bucky’s voice rocked through the silence, causing both you and Joaquin to spring apart. You quickly went back to acting busy with the already stacked plates, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Bucky sighed loudly, his eyes toward the ceiling. “Please, for the love of god, tell me you two weren’t... doing that in Sarah’s kitchen.”

Joaquin let out a nervous, “...no.” His face flushed, making you stifle a laugh.

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “I swear, you two...”

“Bucky,” you said, turning toward him with a teasing smile. “Were you crying?”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately shot you a glare. “No. I’m just... tired.” He slumped his shoulders dramatically. “And I’m taking the couch.”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “You two can take the mattress on the floor. But if I hear so much as a whisper from either of you, I’ll kick you out myself.”

With that, he stormed off, muttering under his breath.

You turned to Joaquin, fighting back a grin. His face was bright red, and his embarrassment was almost too adorable to handle. “Looks like we have to wait until we’re in Arizona,” you said with a sympathetic swat to his arm.

Joaquin groaned, “You know, I’m starting to think Bucky’s secretly shipping us.”

You shot him a wink as you walked out of the kitchen, “He’s just really protective. Come on.”

You patted his arm sympathetically, but then, with a mischievous grin, said, “What about the attic?”

Joaquin raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

You opened your mouth to say yes, as your heart raced just by remembering his touch on your skin, but before you could, Bucky’s voice shouted from the other room.

“I swear to god, I will get a restraining order against the two of you! Don’t even think about it!”

--------------------------------------

Taglist

@tuiccim @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @iamthebeth  @thefandomqueenuno @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron  @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho @samwilson-mylove @jenniweaslee-faves @anna-phora @fluffyprettykitty

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!

[sarahsmi13s]

Lieutenant Rogers - pt 7

Shield of Injustice

pairings: romantic!neil ‘omaha’ vikander x rogers!reader, platonic!dagger squad x rogers!reader, plantonic!sam wilson x rogers!reader, platonic!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

characters: sam wilson, bucky barnes, john walker, lemar hoskins, helmut zemo, joaquin torres, karli morgenthau, the flag smashers, the dora milaje, sarah wilson (mentioned), y/n rogers, neil vikander

word count: ~6.9k 

series warnings: language, blood, fighting, sexual inuendoes, john walker, cannon dangers, cannon deaths, suggestive themes, the flag smashers, super soldiers, angst, if i miss any please let me know

chapter warnings: language, blood, fighting, death, murder, john walker in general, suggestive oma-star content, threats of harm or violence to loved ones, poorly written fight sequences (i’m so sorry), if i missed any lmk

a/n: if you couldn’t already tell, i’m OBSESSED with crossovers. reader is the daughter of steve rogers, and has the super soldier serum as well

also this part is basically episode 4 of tfatws, so we get mentions of star and a little cameo in the middle

sources: Top Gun: Maverick (2022) , The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)

series summary: 13 pilots were called back to Top Gun in 2023. at the same time, Lieutenant Rogers learns that her father’s shield was passed down to John Walker.

chapter summary: while star and her friends fly the mission of a lifetime, sam and bucky are on a mission to find karli before john does. but they all get way more than the barganed for...

‘lieutenant rogers’ universe

pt 1  pt 2  pt 3  pt 4  pt 5  pt 6  pt 8

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

It’s been about two weeks since Bucky and Sam really talked to you except for when John showed up unannounced at Top Gun.

A lot’s happened with them.

They broke Zemo out of jail, but Bucky will tell you Zemo escaped all on his own. They went to Madipor and almost died. They also saw Sharon Carter. Zemo killed some scientist that had recreated the serum and then they almost died again.

And now they were looking for Karli in Latvia.

****

Zemo just told them that Donya Madani’s funeral would be that afternoon, and it’s highly likely that Karli would be there.

Bucky may have lost his temper a little bit, thrown a teacup maybe. But could you blame him? Not only was he trying to stop a radicalized supremacist Super Soldier and get his best friend's shield back, he was worried about you.

He understood that you had limited contact while on a carrier but he would have liked a text or phone call, something to let him know you were okay.

Sam came back from the call he had to make to Sharon.

“Hey Sam?” Bucky got his attention. “What Bucky?” “Have you heard from Y/N yet? You know anything about the mission she was sent on?” Sam shook his head, “No, I haven’t heard from her. But I know the mission is dangerous and that she said she’d get in touch with us as soon as she was on shore.”

Bucky nodded, “I know it’s just been awhile and she said the mission would only take a day.” “Bucky, she’s on a carrier in the middle of the ocean, it’s gonna take more than a few days,” Sam reasoned.

“She’d want us to focus on our mission, not worry about her. Not that I’m not worrying, but she knows distractions can be fatal.” Bucky just pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded.

*****

When time came to go to the memorial, Bucky, Zemo, and Sam left the safe house.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.”

Great, John’s here.

Bucky threw his arms to the side as Lemar and John jogged down the steps, “Ah, how’d you find us now?”

“Come on, man. You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar retorted as they went down another flight of stairs.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” John started, as they reached the bottom. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” He pointed at Zemo.

Bucky tilted his head a little as they met John and Lemar at the stairs. “He did that himself, technically.”

“What would Lieutenant Rogers think-” Bucky pointed at him, “You leave her out of this. She’s got nothing to do with this. She doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“Well, this,” John gestured to Zemo again, “better have an unbelievable explana-” John got closer and Sam stepped between him and Zemo. “Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.”

Zemo rolled his eyes and stepped through, “I know where Karli is.” Him and Bucky started walking around John.

John’s hand on Zemo’s chest made him stop. “Well, where?” John asked impatiently, looking at Sam. “All we know it, it’s a memorial,” Sam answered. Zemo looked over John’s shoulder and walked around him.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties,” Lemar said, turning to follow the Baron. “Alright, good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise,” John strategized.

Sam looked at John, “No, I wanna talk to her alone.” John looked over, shaking his head, “I’m not losing her again.”

Sam wasn’t about to let John near Karli, “Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. If there’s any time to reason with her it’s now.”

But, John wasn’t having it. He ran up in front of them all, “What? No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” He looks at Sam in the back, “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

Lemar agreed, “Look, Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you.”

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die,” Sam argued back.

John looked at Bucky, “You’re gonna let him do this? Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner,” Bucky sassed.

Sam tried to reason with John as he walked around Bucky, “I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” He stood in front of John now.

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” John really just wanted to get this over with and complete his first big mission, and gain your respect.

Lemar shook his head, “Wait… If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.”

John scoffed, but finally complied. He pointed to Zemo, “We’ll deal with you later.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

They turned and saw a little girl. Zemo led the way.

He spoke to her quietly before she gestured for them to follow her.

“What the hell?” John asked, frustrated that Zemo could gain allies so quickly.

****

The girl led them to a GCR building and pointed in the direction of the memorial.

“Karli’s in there,” Zemo further explained. Sam nodded and walked through, “Alright.”

Zemo goes to follow but John harshly grabs him and shoves him against the wall. Zemo groans a little bit as John speaks to Sam, “Hey. You got 10 minutes.” He cuffs Zemo. “Really?” Zemo rolls his eyes as the cuff locks around his wrist.

“Then we're doing things my way,” John was still talking to Sam as he locked the other around a bar.

“Aggressive,” Zemo mumbles. John looks back at him. “But I get it.”

****

John paced as he waited for Sam.

“You’re gonna pace a hole in the floor, Walker,” Bucky said, arms crossed.

He looked at Bucky, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what would Lieutenant Rogers think about all this? Breaking him out of prison, letting Wilson go in there alone.”

“You seem to care an awful lot about what the pilot thinks,” Zemo observed. John’s jaw clenched. Zemo’s mouth formed an ‘o’, “Oh, you want the lieutenant's approval. That’s what it is.”

Bucky scoffed, “You think bringing Karli in is gonna earn her respect?” John stayed silent. “Well, you better hope Karli’s alive when you do.”

John sat down for a minute or two before beginning to pace again.

“Uh-uh. No, no, no. This is a bad idea,” John said. Whether he genuinely felt uneasy and worried for Sam’s safety, or he just didn’t want Karli to get away and ruin his chance at his first big mission was unclear. However, with his attitude thus far, it was safe to assume the latter.

“It hasn't been 10 minutes,  John. Just sit tight,” Bucky said from his spot in the doorway.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me,” John spat going down to look at the clock.

Bucky shrugged and watched him, “He knows what he’s doing.”

John stares at the clock before Bucky watches his demeanor change and he walks towards him.

When he gets to him, Bucky stops him, giving him a look and a head tilt that said, ‘Don’t even try.’

John stepped back, looking at the ground with a clenched jaw. He looked up at Bucky, attempting to be intimidating and not frustrated. “This is all really easy for you, isn’t it?”

He was talking about the serum in Bucky’s veins, in your veins, but not in his own.

“All that serum runnin’ through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there…” Bucky just stared as John looked past him. “Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

****

Well…

That went… horrible.

John managed to push past Bucky and into the room, just as Sam was getting somewhere.

His intrusion not only made Karli run, but it also destroyed any rapport Sam had created with her.

But don’t worry, Zemo managed to get free and find her.

He got multiple shots off, hitting her in the abdomen with one of them. But when she knocked the table over, she knocked her vials of serum onto the floor.

Zemo smashed them under his boot, destroying any potential Karli had at expanding her army.

And while he was doing that, Karli managed to escape and John caught up with him, knocking him unconscious with the shield.

****

Back at the safe house, Sam is emailing Sharon while Zemo rested with a cold compact on his face.

“Were you ever offered it?” Zemo asked Sam.

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.”

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

That caught Sam’s attention.

“No.”

“No hesitation… that’s impressive.”

Zemo grunted a little as he took the compact off his face. “Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

Sam shook his head and turned toward Zemo, “Isn’t that how gods talk?”

That made Zemo think, leaving him to sit there silently.

“And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky, or Y/N?”

That didn’t draw a response from Zemo.

“Blood isn’t always the solution.”

The door opened and closed as Bucky walked in, shucking the leather jacket off.

“Somethings off about Walker…”

Sam chuckled, “You don’t say.”

Bucky laid his jacket on the bar and went over to a cabinet. “I know a crazy when I see one.” He pulls out a glass to pour himself a drink, “That’s because I am crazy…”

Sam chuckled, “I believe it.”

Bucky uncorked the bottle and poured his drink, “You and Y/N shouldn’t have given him the shield…”

“We didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t,” Bucky sassed, bringing the glass to his lips.

Before Sam could retort, the door was kicked open.

“Alright. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over,” John demanded as he stormed in, Lemar trailing behind him.

Sam stepped up to him, “Hey slow your roll. Now let’s be clear; shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.” John squinted his eyes a little but didn’t say anything. So Sam continued. “Now, I had Karli and you overstepped.”

He pointed with his thumb towards Zemo, “He’s actually proven himself useful today. And we’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.”

“How do you want the rest of the conversation to go, Sam, huh?” Sam just looked at John, making the latter chuckle softly. “Yeah…” John gestured with the shield, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?”

Sam scoffed at John’s poor attempt at being intimidating. John put the shield down, preparing himself for a fight.

But before either man could make a move, a vibranium spear was thrown right between them.

Everyone looked in the direction it came from, seeing a Dora Milaje make herself known. Then two more soldiers came through the opened doors.

Ayo spoke in Wakandan to Bucky, “Even if he is a means to your end… Time’s up.” Then she switched to English, “Release him to us, now.”

John turned and held out a hand, “Hi, John Walker, Captain America.” When he got no response he looked around awkwardly. He was losing control of the situation and he didn’t like that.

“Well, uh, let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?”

Sam chuckled a little, “Hey, John, take it easy.” John turned to Sam with a look on face, making Sam grin a little bit. “You might want to fight Bucky or Y/N before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

John smirked and turned back to Ayo, “The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, “The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

John nodded, “Okay…” He chuckled, “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

John then proceeded to make the mistake of placing his hand on Ayo’s shoulder…

She used her spear to knock his arm away before hitting him in the knee, then the face. While he was disoriented, she kicked him in the chest and into the spear that was still lodged into the column.

Then just absolute chaos ensued.

The Dora Milaje used their speed and agility to fight both John and Lemar. They’re trained warriors and the way they fight is unique, the two American soldiers were very under prepared.

Sam, Bucky, and Zemo just watched, the latter two finding it pretty amusing.

But Sam walked over to Bucky, “We should do something…” Bucky nodded a little and crossed his arms, “Looking strong John!”

Ayo wasn’t letting up and it made Sam a little antsy. And by the time she got John on the ground, he was sure she would put her spear through his chest.

“Bucky…”

The addressed looked at him and sighed, “Alright, fine.”

Bucky walked over and grabbed the spear, “Ayo…” She pulled the spear back, making Bucky grunt in surprise. “Ayo, let’s talk about this,” he managed to say as he fought her.

In the living room, Sam had to assist Lemar. He took the hits and dodged what he could as the other trapped John to the table by threading her spear through the straps of the shield.

Back with Bucky, Ayo managed to get the upper hand and disarm him… no literally, the Wakandas had embedded a code into the arm in the event the Winter Soldier ever made an appearance again.

While Bucky was stunned Ayo checked the bathroom where she saw Zemo sneak off to, but he had escaped through the grate in the middle of the floor.

John managed to free his arm just before the soldier that threw it took her spear back, letting the shield fall to the floor.

And he didn’t dare move to grab it, so the Dora warrior did.

But Ayo was on a mission.

“He is gone,” she said, referring to the Baron. Then she nodded to the shield. “Leave it,” she ordered.

The warrior nodded and gave the shield back to John, who still sat on the floor trying to catch his breath.

In the kitchen area, Bucky knelt down and picked his arm back up and just looked at it.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked as he got off the floor and walked over to him.

Bucky didn’t answer as he put his arm back on, groaning a little as the plates got back into place. He flexed his fingers, “No.” The mechanisms whirled and clanked a bit before he rotated his arm around and set everything back into place.

Lemar gets up and walks over to John, who is just staring at the floor.

“You alright man?”

“They weren’t even Super Soldiers…” John mumbled out.

His ego was severely damaged. He felt like he was taking a step forward only to get pushed ten steps back. John had lost control and then got his ass handed to him on a vibranium platter.

John was frustrated, he was failing his mission. He’s not ready, and it’s painfully obvious to him now. This role is harder than he thought, Steve’s shoes are too big to fill on his own.

“Come on,” Lemar said as he helped him up.

Sam walked by and only gave John a disgruntled look. A look that clearly told John he fucked up.

*****

John and Lemar stood at a table in the mall, talking about the mission.

“Look man, the serum and its source are gone,” Lemar started. “I know it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to, but it ain’t all bad.” John nodded and gave him a small, tight lipped smile.

Before John could respond, a girl came up to him and asked for an autograph, which he gave her.

He thanked them and wished them a good day before turning back to his friend, rubbing his face in exhaustion.

“How long until that gets annoying?” Lemar teased. John chuckled, “You’re just mad she didn’t ask for yours…” “Oh, it’s her loss,” Lemar threw back. “Even got a little Battlestar logo to go with it.”

John exhales amusedly through his nose.

He tapped the table, “If you had the chance to take the serum, would you do it?” Lemar nodded, “Hells, yeah.”

“You wouldn’t be worried about how it might… how it might change you?”

Lemar thought about it before sighing, “I mean… Power just makes a person more of themselves, right?” He shrugged, “Karli Morgenthau. Steve and Y/N Rogers.”

John nodded a little before looking at him, “And me?”

Lemar faced his friend completely, “You already have three Medals of Honor. You consistently make the right decisions in the heat of battle.”

John rubbed his brow, “Yep…” He kept his eyes on the table, “Three badges of excellence to make sure I never forget the worst day of my life…”

He looked up at Lemar, “We both know that the things we had to do in Afghanistan to be awarded those medals felt a long way from being right… Being Cap is the first time I’ve had the chance to do something that actually feels right.”

“But God! Imagine how many lives we could have saved that day if we had that serum,” Lemar said. John nodded, “I know… I know.”

*******

You laid on the couch, your fingers gently running through Omaha’s dark hair as he rested his head on your stomach.

The setting sun casted a beautiful orange glow over the room as the movie played on TV. You could feel the vibration of Neil’s chest against your thighs as he snored.

The squad had just gotten back to North Island earlier that afternoon and after the debriefing all you and Omaha wanted to do was cuddle and be with each other. So that’s what you did.

You knew you should probably call Sam and Bucky, but you had been on a cramped carrier all week and you just wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend. You also weren’t sure where they were or if they were busy, so you’d just let them call your first or check in with them after you’ve had time to decompress.

Which is why you were finally letting your eyes slip closed as you relaxed.

And then your phone rang.

Groaning, you reached for your phone. You picked it up and answered it, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N?”

The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, and it put you on alert. It was foreign, sounded European but pinpointing exactly where wasn’t really your concern.

You carefully sat up, hoping you wouldn’t wake Omaha, “It is. Who are you?”

“My name is Karli Morgenthau.”

You froze for a second. You recognized that name.

Sam and Bucky tried to keep you in the dark, but you had connections. Someone on the very inside that was keeping you updated as best he could. And the name ‘Karli Morgenthau’ came up a lot recently.

You gently get up as you speak, “I know the name… You’re the leader of the Flag Smashers, right? The group against the GRC?”

Making sure Neil is still asleep, you step out onto the back porch.

“I am, and you’re Steve Rogers daughter…”

“I am… Why are you calling me Karli?”

She sighs, “I need you to stay out of my way. I know how close you are with Sam and Bucky…”

“Are you threatening me, Karli?”

“All I’m asking is that you make sure Bucky stays out of my way. I want to speak with Sam, alone. If Bucky comes with him, I can’t promise he’ll make it out alive…”

You cross your arms and lean against the railing, “Bucky can hold his own, he is a trained assassin after all.”

Karli’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “You know that we’ve reached people all across the world right? Have pulled hundreds of people to the cause, some in San Diego?”

You knew what she was doing but you weren’t going to take any chances.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just stay out of it. Don’t try and warn them, I’ll know. I can track your calls and text,” she says with authority.

You can see why she has a following, and you understand her cause… but her methods don’t sit right with you.

“And if I don’t?”

“If you want your friends, your boyfriend, to stay safe… you’ll do as I ask…”

You can hear the smirk in her voice, the baseless arrogance thinking that she had intimidated you. You knew there was a big chance that she was lying, that she was just using the people you held close and loved as leverage. She was a bully, and the Rogers don’t like bullies.

But were you really going to risk the safety of your family? No, you weren’t.

“Okay, I won’t intervene…”

“Good.”

She hung up and you let out a breath.

“Everything okay?”

You looked up and saw Neil in the doorway. You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just needed to take a phone call… I didn’t want to wake you.” He nodded and came over to you. 

“Was it Sam or Bucky?” You shook your head, “No, it was my contact. He was updating me, said they were doing just fine and were getting close to stopping this group.”

He smiled, “Okay that’s good.” He wrapped his arms around you, “Do you want to go out for dinner or just eat here?” You put your arms around his neck and tilt your head, “I’d rather eat here, if that’s okay?” 

Omaha nods, “Of course that’s okay. I do need to go get some stuff-” “I can go get it. I don’t mind.” 

He squeezed your hips, “Are you sure?” You nodded and pressed your lips to his.

He hummed against your lips and pulled you close. You arched into him and got on your toes. Neil gripped your hips and picked you up to sit you on the railing.

You giggled and sat your phone down as he began to kiss your neck.

A moan fell from your lips and your hand slipped under his shirt. His hands moved up your sides; one in the middle of your back to keep you firmly against him and the other buried itself under your messy bun to pull your lips to his in a deep kiss.

Your free hand pulled him closer by his waistband as he licked your bottom lip. 

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling for dominance with yours.

You’re moaning and whimpering against each other’s mouths before he has to pull away for air.

“Fuck, Star-light…” You chuckled at the breathlessness in his voice as you took a few deep breaths. “After dinner Oma, I promise.” 

Neil nodded as he swallowed, “I’ll hold you to that.” You laughed again as you both sat there in each other’s arms. 

Your phone going off vibrated the railing you were perched on and shattered the moment.

You checked it, just to see that it was a text from Fanboy about a new show you had talked about watching together. 

You looked back up at your boyfriend, “I should probably head to the store.” He nods, “Let me make a list. What sounds good?” You think about it for a minute, trying to find out what’s making your mouth water. “Ooooh, chicken and steak quesadillas? With homemade tortilla chips?” 

“Do we have tortillas?” You nod, a grin spreading across your face. He mirrors it, “Then that’s perfect. I’ll make the chips while you go to the store.” 

Giddy, you peck his lips, “Okay, make a list while I fix my hair and make myself look presentable.” He grinned and kissed you back, “Yes, ma’am.” 

You shove him away with a giggle and you both go inside.

You go into your room and fix your hair before throwing on one of Neil’s hoodies. As you do that, your phone dings with another text, this time it’s from Sarah Wilson. 

“I need you to call me. Karli just made contact with me…”

You huffed and dug through one of the drawers in your closet.

“C’mon…” You sighed once you found it. “There you are.” You pulled out the old burner phone Nick had given you and slid it into your pocket.

After that you slipped on your shoes, got the list and another kiss from Neil and you’re out the door.

******

Sam and Bucky were walking around Latvia looking for Zemo when Sam’s phone rang.

“Who is it?” Bucky asked, not looking at the caller ID. “It’s my sister,” Sam mumbled, concern in his tone as he answered. “Hey, what’s up?”

Bucky couldn’t hear what Sarah was saying but by the way Sam responded, he could tell it wasn’t good.

“Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys.”

Bucky turns his head, “What happened?”

Sam pulled his phone away from his ear, “Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” He brought his phone back to his ear.

“Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash. Alright? Let me know when you get there.”

Bucky’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

“I know. Look, I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to you and the boys.” Bucky pulls his phone out to check the notification.

“Okay, bye.”

Sam hangs up as Bucky slows to stop to read the text from an unknown number. Bucky’s brow furrowed and he frowned at his phone.

Sam arched an eyebrow, “Everything okay?” Bucky shook his head, “I’m not sure.” Sam peaked over at Bucky’s phone screen, reading the text on the screen.

“Karli wants to meet Sam somewhere alone. Don’t let him go alone, but don’t get caught either. Watch your 6, Buck - ⭐”

“That has to be Y/N…” Bucky said, a sense of dread filling his chest that Karli knew your number. “It’s signed with a star… thingy.”

“An emoji?”

“Whatever it is, that can’t be a coincidence.”

Sam nodded as he sighed, “She used an Avengers burner phone… we can’t track it because she most likely took the battery out. But that means no one else can track that text back to her either.”

Bucky nods and deletes the text and the number from his phone, just as a secondary precaution.

“But she’s right… Karli wants to meet me somewhere. She left a contact number with Sarah,” Sam confirmed just before his phone sounded with a text notification.

He looked at it and it was a location and time. The rooftop about North Plaza, and now. She wasn’t going to let him sit and develop a plan.

“She said to come alone… Like Y/N said…” Sam told Bucky, nerves and fear filling him as he looked at the sniper.

Even had you not warned Bucky, he wasn’t about to let Sam face Karli alone.

“I’m coming with you.”

****

After changing into their gear, they went to the plaza.

“Karli!” Sam shouted as soon as he entered the room.

The Super Soldier leaned over the railing to make herself known and the two men made their way up the stairs.

“You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?” Sam questioned the moment he topped the steps.

“Sam, I would never hurt her,” Karli said gently as she leaned on the banister. “I just wanted to understand you better.”

She pushed off the half wall, “I see you, uh–” She pointed to Bucky, “–didn’t come alone.”

“You have to end this, now,” Sam said, natural, but gentle, authority in his voice.

Karli shook her head, “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re just a tool in the regimes I’m looking to destroy.” She glances at Bucky who walks a little closer to cover Sam’s back, “You’re not hiding behind a shield.”

“If I were to kill you, it would be meaningless,” she said bluntly.

In all fairness, Sam and Bucky weren’t representing symbols like John was. They weren’t members of the government or the GRC. Their deaths would do nothing for Karli’s cause.

Sam glanced over his shoulder to Bucky, assessing his body language and overall demeanor before turning back to Karli.

“I was gonna ask you to join me… or do the world a favor and let me go.”

Before Sam could say or do anything, Sharon spoke into his comms.

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he looked at Bucky, “It’s Walker.”

Bucky quickly made the move to jump down, but Karli had other plans. She jumped and slammed into Bucky, causing him to slam into the column.

While Bucky pushed off the ground with a groan, Sam fought Karli. He placed a kick to her chest, throwing her off balance.

He looked at Bucky, “I’ll send you the location, go.” Buck nodded and ran through the door while Sam deployed his wings and took off before Karli could get up.

****

When Sam landed at the location, having cannonballed through the skylight onto the stairs, a Flag Smasher was kicked through the door about two flights above him and straight into the wall.

Sam looked up the flight of stairs and saw John walking down them with a look of determination on his face, sheathing the shield on his back as he got closer.

Sam could only watch as the Flag Smasher tried to hit John with a pipe, only for John to catch it and wrestle with him for a moment… before he easily bent the pipe. The steel pipe.

“Oh shit…”

John threw the soldier into a pillar, who hit it harshly but managed to get up and run.

Sam watched John descend the steps and walk past him, “What did you do?” John bypassed the question, “They’ve got Lemar.”

****

Bucky entered the building from the bottom floor, skipping steps as he ran up the stairs.

As he ran up a flight, he’s ambushed on his left side and slammed into the wall.

The soldier grabbed him from behind and tried to put him in a chokehold. But Bucky leveraged himself against the wall and launched them into a pillar.

He managed to free himself from the guy's hold. Bucky parried one of the punches thrown at him before kicking him down the stairs.

Bucky hurdled the railing and stalked toward the Flag Smasher as he tried to get up.

Before he could stand up, Bucky planted his boot into the guy’s chest and sent him through the brick wall.

Bucky checked to make sure the soldier was unconscious before leaving.

“Stay there.”

****

Sam and John made it to a big open, seemingly empty, room.

Then two soldiers jumped down behind them from the landing.

John reflexively threw the shield, hitting them both. Sam closed-lined one with his wing, while the other pulled a knife on John.

“What’s with all the knives?”

Within a few minutes of them fighting, Bucky made his appearance as well as two more Flag Smashers.

The one with the knife tried to stab John, but he countered it with the shield and sent the blade flying towards Bucky. Luckily he caught it.

But a soldier approached him from behind with a knife of their own.

Bucky readied himself and the soldier charged, kick flipping before attempting to attack. But the attempted slashes were parried and countered with a few punches and a knee to the ribs. Then Bucky gets leverage and is able to flip them onto their back.

He flips the knife in his hand and throws it into the floor next to the soldier’s head.

Another soldier grabbed Sam from behind. He quickly elbowed them and turned on his thrusters, using the heat to disorient them before kicking them over the table.

John hit one in the face with the shield before throwing another on the ground.

The one thrown charged at a preoccupied Sam, but Bucky intercepted them and punched them out.

“You’re welcome.”

As John fought, he was grabbed from behind by a maskless Flag Smasher.

John struggled to get free and the soldier locked his arms, exposing his chest.

Karli charged in, hurdling a table and running to John, knife at the ready.

But Lemar came in just in time and tackled Karli.

They both got up off the ground, ready to fight. But Karli was faster.

One well placed, powerful punch to Lemar’s chest sent him into a concrete column. Killing him instantly.

****

It was like the world was put into slow motion.

The fighting stopped as Lemar slumped on the floor.

John broke free of the hold on him and went straight to Lemar.

He knelt next to him, “Hey. Hey. Hey.” John patted his chest and shook his shoulder. He held Lemar’s face, “Lemar. Lemar.”

John kept repeating Lemar’s name, but it was no use. Lemar was dead.

The rage that filled John was visible. Everyone in the room felt it.

Bucky and Sam were stunned, catching their breath as they watched John.

But the Flag Smashers took their chance and ran.

Karli took a different exit than the others, and Bucky and Sam followed her.

John took the quickest exit, jumping out the window. He immediately clocked the soldier that held him back.

He chased him into the town square. Using the shield to block what concrete object was thrown at him.

“Where is she?!”

John ran, throwing the shield at the soldier’s back before running up to him and hitting him in the chest, knocking him back into the memorial.

He tried to get up but John knocked him down with the shield. He tried again but John pinned him under his boot.

“It wasn’t me!” He shouted, begging for his life.

John said nothing as he raised the shield.

“It wasn’t me!”

The soldier’s final plea fell on deaf ears as the edge of the shield was brought down on his chest.

****

The crowd that had gathered gasped as John brought the shield down three more times, shouting in rage.

Once the man fell limp under John, he stood and took deep breaths.

Bucky and Sam ran through the crowd, but they were too late. Far too late.

John strapped the bloodied shield to his arm. Brandishing the tainted symbol to the recording phones.

Blood was rushing in John’s ears, dampening the sounds of the world around him. But his eyes worked just fine.

The sight of a crowd, multiple cameras, Sam and Bucky, and a dead body greeted John as he looked around.

Then the sprinkling rain hit his skin and the weight of his actions barreled into him… and he ran.

******

Bucky and Sam chased after John, finding him in an abandoned train station.

They find him kneeling, grieving the loss of his best friend. They don’t intervene, they know he needs it.

It’s not until John stands and walks in their direction that they make their move.

“Walker…” Sam said cautiously.

John looked at them, but didn't stop walking, “You guys should see a medic, you don't look so good.”

“Stop, Walker.”

John turns around, “What?” He started gesturing with his hands, “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

Bucky shook his head, “He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”

Walker just rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Don’t go down that road,” Bucky advised. “Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

“I’m not like you.”

Sam stepped up, trying to reason with John and calm him down.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle. Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

Bucky couldn’t stop looking at the blood on the shield as Sam stayed calm.

“John… You gotta give me the shield, man.”

Walker looked up at the two, “Oh…” He smirked a little, appearing as if he just figured a riddle. “So that’s what this is…” He looked at Sam, “You almost got me.”

Sam shook his head and shrugged, “You made a mistake.”

John looked between them, “You don’t wanna do this.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked up at Walker, tearing his eyes away from the now tainted memory of his best friend.

“Yeah we do.”

****

The fight that ensued was quick, but it was ugly.

John wasn’t giving up that shield easily, but Sam and Bucky weren’t letting him leave with it.

Faces were bloodied, rib cages were bruised and broken.

Sam and Bucky’s intentions were just to incapacitate John and take the shield.

Walker was trying to kill them.

He was aiming for the chest, the throat, the face, the head. Anywhere that could be lethal, that’s where John was aiming.

John thought he deserved that shield. After everything he went through to be chosen. After what he endured that got him a spot on the list.

He wasn’t going to let them simply take it. They would have to kill him.

But they didn’t.

Sam and Bucky had every opportunity to kill John. Just like that, John is dead and the shield is theirs.

Except, it wasn’t that simple to them… Well maybe to Bucky it was but he had to think about more than just what he wants.

They fought and fought. Their backs met the concrete more than they would care to admit.

John ripped Sam’s wings from his pack, nearly decapitated him with the shield before Bucky intervened.

After Bucky took hits to the ribs and face, Sam managed to get ahold of the shield. Both of them work together to take the shield from where it was strapped to John’s arm.

Bucky had John pinned to a broken down forklift and Sam had to use his thrusters to get the shield to finally come off… snapping John’s arm in the process.

But Walker wasn’t letting them just walk away.

He stood from the ground, chest heaving as he walked towards them. “It’s mine.”

Sam stared him down. “It’s over, John.”

“It’s mine!”

He throws a punch at Bucky, only for it to be countered. While disoriented from the punch, John tries to run at Bucky, only for the assassin to lower his shoulder and pick him up by the legs.

Sam took the shield and ran, the shield meeting John’s back as Bucky slung the man and knocking them all to the ground.

Bucky is the first to stand, picking up the shield and dropping it by Sam’s head before walking out.

*****

The next day, Sam and Bucky met with Torres at the same building Mama Donya’s memorial was in.

Bucky left shortly after Joaquin arrived, leaving Sam alone with him.

“What’s our next steps, Torres?” Sam asks, propping himself on the table.

“Captain America killing a foreign national in public, it’s kinda like a big deal… Like-like international incident big. Folks, uh, higher up on the payroll are all over it now. So, unfortunately…”

“They’re taking jurisdiction,” Sam finished.

Torres nodded, “Yeah.”

He looked down and noticed Sam’s equipment bag on the ground, broken wings inside.

“What happened to these?” He walked over and picked the bag up with a grunt, sitting it on the table.

“So, is there anything we can do?” Sam asked Torres as he looked through the bag.

Joaquin shook his head a little, “Not really.” He continued to look at the damaged wings, “As you can see, they’ve cordoned off the whole camp, and Karli’s a ghost. After what went down, she’s laying extra low. Like under-underground.”

“And that’s why it makes sense for us to get involved. The longer we let her regroup, the harder it’s going to be to find her,” Sam told him.

“She’s got people helping her from all over the world, on all platforms. She’s… really good at this thing.”

Sam nodded his agreement, “Yeah.”

Torres ran his hand over the wings, “How’d these break?” But his question is only answered with a sigh.

So he moved on.

“Anyway, all we can do now is sit tight and just chill. Sometimes, there’s nothing to do until there’s something to do.”

Sam stood and smirked a little, “That’s bizarrely wise.”

Torres chuckled, “Well, I’m a bizarrely wise man, Sam.” “Yeah, alright.”

Sam’s phone rang in his pocket and he sighed. He picked up the shield and turned to leave.

“That Star?” Joaquin asked, standing straighter. Sam reached for his phone, “I hope so… Thanks Torres.” He nodded, “For sure.”  

Sam pulled his phone out and walked toward the exit.

“Wait, yo, you forgot the wings,” Torres called out. Sam looked over his shoulder, “Keep ‘em.”

****

Sam answered your call once he got outside.

“I know-”

“What. The. Fuck did he do?”

Sam sucked in a breath.

This was bad.

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

well....

that was... something

john walker has defiled and tainted the shield’s legacy... everything steve rogers stood for covered in the blood of someone. sam and bucky had their go, now it’s star’s turn

i’m sorry it took so long to get this part up, but it’s here know! and we’re getting more into the events of TFATWS. the next few parts will follow the events of the last two episodes. but it won’t stop there.

let me know if you want to be added to my top gun taglist or the lieutentant rogers taglist by rebloging the masterlist linked at the top, commenting, or sending me an ask!

lt. rogers tags <33: @milesdickpic @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @malindacath @twsssmlmaa @cassiemitchell @startrekfangirl2233 @mayhemmanaged @nikkipea​  @that-one-random-writer​ 

thank you guys for being here <33 *mwah*

[tom-whore-dleston]

Alma Bella

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x f. reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This fic contains: angst, fluff, implied smut, hurt/comfort, massages, crying, reader has low self esteem, Joaquin is a loving bf, unbeta’ed writing

Summary: Joaquin helps cheer you up after getting laid off.

Notes: This piece is for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love challenge. In addition, this is a late request from the Spotify Wrapped 2023 challenge.

prompt: Philautia (love of the self) - Spa Day

request: Hello ❤️ For your event, can I choose <Beautiful Soul> by Jesse McCartney and Joaquin Torres? I was thinking a hurt/comfort/fluff fic? I don’t want to add too many ideas but if I can add, Soldier Joaquin x Teacher Reader? Thank you!!! - @blackbat05

You poked at the rice on your plate, watching the way each grain smashed under your spoon. If you weren’t careful, you could have snapped at any moment, aggressively smashing the salmon you spent the last hour preparing for your partner and then throwing it on the ground. So, you settled for meticulously squishing each item on your plate, until Joaquin’s voice pulled you out of your trance.

“Amor, is everything alright?”

When you finally glanced into his loving brown eyes, you sighed loudly, fighting back the tears burning your own eyes. You had been anxious to the point of throwing up over sharing the news to Joaquin. He had been working so hard for both of you, and you didn’t want to let him down. The logical side of you knew he would never be disappointed in you, yet the fear of any conflict with the man you loved scared you to your core. Yet, you needed to tell him before you were consumed by it.

“I’m so sorry, Joaquin,” you mumbled, staring back down at your barely eaten dinner.

“What? Why?”

“I got laid off,” you finally revealed. Your heart sank to your stomach as the words left your mouth, and you already felt the bile traveling to the back of your throat. “I should have seen it coming with the way the economy is now. Plus, schools are more focused on STEM classes than fine arts. You sipped on your glass of water before continuing. “I really thought I could make a difference with art. I thought I could inspire kids to create with their hands and get messy, but…forget it. My family was right about me becoming an artist. I’d never make it so I should be an art teacher for more stability. Well, look where that got me.” 

The tears that brewed in your eyes disappeared. Your heart was breaking into atomic pieces yet you couldn’t allow yourself to cry. What was the point of crying if the only thing to grieve was your hope of making a difference?

Joaquin stood from his chair and joined you on the opposite side of the dining table. He knelt down to hug you tightly against him. The moment he started rubbing your back and kissed the crown of your head, the water works began flooding over his white shirt. Your lover hushed you, but still allowed you to sob into his shoulder. 

“I am hurting with you, amor. But everything you said about yourself is not true. You can make a difference with your art. Maybe this just wasn’t the right time or moment to do that.”

You pulled away to meet his eyes again. They were still beautiful and brown, even behind your watery gaze.

“When will be the right time?” You sniffled, wiping the tears away with the back of your hands.

Joaquin looked down at the ground solemnly. “I wish I knew the answer to that. But I promise it’ll come. You just gotta light that passion again, amor.” A strong hand grabbed yours tenderly. “I know you still have fight in you. Even if you feel discouraged.” 

You pulled Joaquin into another hug warm enough to light that fire inside you. He always knew how to comfort you. You didn’t deserve this, especially after the way you talked so poorly of yourself. But, it was what you needed to crawl out of your hopeless state.

“I think I know another way to cheer you up,” Joaquin said, sweeping the hair out of your face.

“Please tell me we are getting massages!”

Joaquin’s eyes widened, a smile painting his face. “How do you manage to guess what I’m thinking so easily?”

You bit your lip. “Because you and I are connected by the soul.”

He stared down at your lips, releasing a faint chuckle before kissing your lips.

The next day, Joaquin drove you to the massage parlor in your town, holding your hand while he sang ballads of his affection to you. At each stop light, he would lift your hand to his lips before lightly pecking them before driving away. By the time you arrived at your destination, Joaquin spoke with the receptionist, reserving your massage time and paying the service. Before you could protest, he reminded you that this day was for you and you shouldn’t have to do so much as lift a finger. Normally, you would attempt to fight him back, but for now, you agreed to let him treat you.

The next 90 minutes were the most blissful ones you have experienced in a long while. The woman massaging you may have been way past 60 years old, but her hands were strong enough to knead out the weight you carried since getting laid off. Yet, her touch was still soft and gentle, a kind reminder that even amongst the roughness, you deserve sensitivity and love.

You peered over to Joaquin, who laid with his cheek on the table, facing you. He grinned with his eyelids half open as his taut muscles turned to putty. 

“How are you, mi amor?” 

As the little old woman squeezed a pressure point on your calf, you winced in pain and pleasure. Joaquin laughed at your response, sticking his head back down the cushioned hole of the table, succumbing to the classical music and warmth of the massager’s hands.

Once your massage was over, you and Joaquin moaned in elation, but still yearned for more of the comforting yet aggressive touch of the massagers. You both laid in silence, battling the urge to fall asleep on the tables. After what felt like eternity, you finally stood from the table, moving sluggishly to dress yourself. Joaquin sensed your movement, turning to admire your naked form. 

“Hey, you,” your boyfriend murmured in a seductive tone.

“Hey, to you, too.” You snickered, rolling your eyes when Joaquin just stared at you in awe. He rolled onto his side as you slid your underwear back on.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He licked his lips as you bent over to pick up your sundress. A smirk was plastered on his face, and you already predicted where this would lead you. You decided to play dumb to test your hypothesis.

“I should say the same about you, handsome.” Your eyebrows suggested towards his semi hard length pointing in your direction. Then, you met him with sincerity and affection. “Thank you for this, amor. It really means a lot that you are taking this whole day to make me feel better after yesterday.”

“Anything for the woman I love. Don’t ever forget that you deserve the best and more.” You nodded before pressing your lips to his. Then, Joaquin added, “I take it that the massage helped relieve some of your stress?” 

“Oh, you have no idea, baby.”

“I think I do have an idea actually.” You faced him, fully dressed, as he finally managed to hop off the table. Your eyes steered away from his bare figure, warmth flooding your cheeks and chest. “Your pretty moans told me all I needed to know about how good you were feeling.”

You gulped, that sly smirk never leaving his face. “I felt really good, too. The thing is, I think they missed a spot. You and I both know you’re the only one to give me a real happy ending. Ain’t that right, amor?” By then, you choked on a gasp that almost came out as a whimper. 

“Joaquin, we can’t fuck here.”

“I know, I know.” He paused while putting on his jeans. “How about this? I drive us home, we get undressed again and I help you relax a little more and you help me get a happy ending.” 

You pretended to consider his proposition with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. The day had just begun for you two and you were already looking forward to more of whatever special treatment he had in store for you.

“Well, you did want to treat me the whole day so let’s not waste anymore time.”

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header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness

[samwilsonsimp]

bucky being an art buff . bucky being a museum buff in * general * but LOVING art museums . never been sams thing . i mean , sure , he likes them okay , but he’s the type of person to look at a painting for a couple moments and say “ nice “ and move on ( unless there’s one that really catches his eye ) . but for whatever reason , there’s just something he loves about going with bucky and listening to bucky talk him to death about the significance of the most boring painting he’s ever seen