— CANT HANDLE IT

— IS THAT X-MEN?

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

pairing: Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow that’s cool, what’s your job?”

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

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

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

“What! That’s sick!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s my favorite vendor!”

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

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

“Oh how is he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh…”

“Yeah…”

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

“Is it not already?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart twinges in disappointment but you push it aside.

“Oh…”

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t wait for his call.

you were on the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you stayed quiet.

“i’m coming in.”

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

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

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

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

you looked up.

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

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

he walks towards you and crouches to your level.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

SOCCER PLAYER JOAQUIN PLEASEEEEE i am Seated and waiting

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

pairing: soccerplayer!joaquín x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well you like me like that, cariño.”

- PHOTOGRAPH

you can’t sleep

pairing: Joaquín x gn!reader

wc: idk somewhere in the 500 range maybe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writing fanfiction in school is the most stressful thing I’ve ever done in school 💔💔

THERES MORE 😛😛

Bucky, in his apartment: *drinking his morning coffee while watching the news*

*News broadcast showing Joaquin going after two missiles and Sam surfing on another one while getting shot at*

Bucky, slowly putting down his cup and staring at the TV blankly: ... Oh my god, there's two of them.

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⠀ ⠀ PARTY 4 U ⠀ ⠀ CH . 01 ⠀ ⠀ JOAQUIN TORRES A . K . A FALCON / F ! READER⠀⠀

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SUMMARY ⋆ joaquin finds love on a dating app && does anything he can to get her closer . WARNINGS ⋆ fluffy for now / next chapters will def have smut / not - a - superhero ! au / wealthy , lowkey sugar daddy ! joaquin / mutual pining / they r in luvvvv lowk / awkward convos / banter / joaquin has some dirty thoughts / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 2 . 8 k NOTES ⋆ i made a tiny lil playlist to go with this , u can listen to it here !! all my love for danny ramirez came flooding back n i couldn't stop thinking of him as lover boy mcgee ... dreamy sigh ... enjoy !!

A swipe of her thumb changed the trajectory of the summer for the better. What was meant to be a slothful three months of taking it day by day, hoping, praying for any excitement to befall the lazy crawl of time became late nights tapping away at her phone, and endless conversations with a boy in another timezone: Joaquin. The dating app had been a distraction, uninstalled as soon as his number made its way into her contacts, texts traded for images. Innocent, as it always starts, he sent himself, in the gym, muscular arms flexed, pretty pearly whites flashing in a charming smile. Tan skin, overgrown curls slanting into playful eyes, she’d found herself intimidated, yet enthralled all the same.

He was treating her. It was only right she rewarded him in return.

Joaquin’s recompense took the form of a mirror selfie in a dressing room; a baby pink dress, made to be taken off, kissing, clinging to every curve — mouth watering. To add to his torture, she’d followed the vision up with: so cute, so expensive. Exposed by the exchange, their definitions of expensive were worlds apart. 

$3000 received from Joaquin Torres: ‘Wear it for our first date.’

“Joaquin, that’s too much, you have to take it back,” she’d whined over the phone minutes later, a deep chuckle coming from his end of the line. 

“You said it was expensive—”

“Yeah, eighty bucks!” Too loud, catching glares from other shoppers, she sighed and lowered her voice. “It was only eighty bucks. I can afford that, I’m sending it back.” She was still shaken from the notification, fingers trembling, intending to do as she said, brought to an end by his answer.

“No.” Joaquin’s tone was firm, his grin audible, his mind made up. “Keep it, buy yourself other pretty things to wear for me. You need more, you let me know.” 

Men in the real world can’t be trusted, men online ought to be monsters, but there are always outliers; a man too good to be true that happens to be true after all. With money in her account, and shopping bags littering her bedroom, she’d convinced herself that Joaquin was her Prince Charming, sent to her by Aphrodite herself to save her from the lonely, boyfriend-less, love-empty, paycheck-to-paycheck life, that his interest reflected hers identically. He was respectful, kind, patient, and had yet to bring up the topic of sex, whereas any other man in his seat would’ve begun posing with his cock in his hand. The bar was low, and Joaquin was in his home gym, using it to make those strong arms of his all the more delicious, raising it with ease.

A month and a half into being matchmade, one night on FaceTime, after almost an hour of blissful silence, Joaquin asked, “You wanna come to my party next weekend?” The question was posed as though there weren’t thousands of miles between them, met with hesitation on her end, causing him to continue: “I’ll fly you out Thursday, we can hang on Friday… I’ll take you shopping. Party’s Friday night. It’ll be fun.” He sounded nervous, fumbling for words to convince her. Those brown puppy dog eyes twinkling below furrowed brows, gazing at her lips, waiting for them to part, only to cut her off when they did, trying his very best to stave off what he thought was oncoming rejection, the rumble of his chest audible in his words as he murmured, “I really want to see you. I want to touch you and kiss you good morning and good night. The texts aren’t enough anymore…” His hands clamping over his face, he fell back onto his bed, out of frame. “Your lips look so soft — you look so soft. Please.” 

How could she say no? 

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Joaquin traces the shield shape of the Porsche logo with his fingertips, his knee bouncing as he watches the automatic sliding doors of the airport gate like a hawk. He’s seen her silhouette a thousand times in pictures, stalking her Instagram, scrolling through their texts, imprinting every line of her figure behind his eyelids. Every moment of downtime is consumed by her, thoughts notching themselves into a spectrum of museum dates and ice cream to her pressed into his mattress, chanting his name like a mantra. Ice cream was easy to discuss, a two-hour conversation about favorite flavors and other sweet treats — a mutual sweet tooth — had distracted him from his work only days prior. He’d called her sweet, she’d giggled, and he’d forced his next set of words to die on his tongue: Can I have a taste?

The doors open, and angels sing. Heavenly beams of light dance over delicate features as she finally appears. A gust of wind blows past, tousles beautiful, beautiful hair, sending her into a bout of struggle as she rushes to fix it, not catching him approaching her in the midst. He calls her name, softly at first, then a bit louder. 

“Joaquin!” She chirps back, sheepish simper on glossy lips. “Hi!” Her arms open, inviting him in; he swoops down, drawing her into his embrace without missing a beat. Pressed to his front, her heels lift off the ground, and when he steps back, his hands remain on her waist. Joaquin’s gaze travels down, down, down, absorbing everything from the stitched flowers on her jeans to the ribbon ties of her shoelaces. Then, up, up, up, waist, chest, a swan-like neck— a face that broke the mold. Their eyes meet, and it dawns on him that she’s doing the same, opening her mouth, but he steals the words before she can speak. 

“You’re real,” he breathes out, his thumbs pressing into her shirt, the warmth of his palms seeping through the fabric. Her smaller hands find his chest, her smile bashful. 

“I am…” 

He doesn’t kiss her just yet, too shaky, too nervous — afraid he’ll lay it on too thick and chase her off. His nerves contradict the romantic perfectionist in him, the one that wants their first kiss to be memorable, not just a formality in front of the airport; a lazy, no-effort thank you for humoring him and taking a flight across the country. The gentlemanly things are in order overall — carrying her bags to the trunk, opening the passenger side door, holding her hand as she climbs into the seat… feigning confidence as her gentle gaze follows his movements, beholding him with a fondness he doesn’t allow himself to translate. He fears if he does, he won’t make it to their destination without spilling all over her. 

“My place first — got all your favorite stuff made for dinner, you gotta eat real food after that bullshit they try to feed you on the plane,” he says with his signature smile, buckling himself in. She adjusts her seatbelt, and shrugs, his brightness contagious; her cheeks already feel warm from grinning so much. 

“I dunno…  I like the snacks they give you! They gave me complimentary champagne, that was nice! I didn’t know rich people got to be drunk for free on flights.” Arguing her case is useless because Joaquin shakes his head as he drives off the sideroad, onto the lane heading towards the freeway. He opens his mouth to declare an equally playful rebuttal when she continues, “But let me guess, it’s cheap, wack champagne. Right? Right, Joaquin?”

He gasps, chokes out a laugh, and then nods, “It’s fucking terrible!”

Banter is more common than not between them — Joaquin’s personality thrives off it, his goal in any conversation is to make the other laugh. With her, it’s especially important — special. If he can work his way to one of her mellifluous giggles, his day is made, and the rest of the world can go to hell for all he cares. Over the phone, it’s a piece of cake. When she’s less than arm’s width away, it’s natural, as though the space between them has always been minimal. He tells a joke, she laughs, presses a dainty little hand to his bicep, and he decides he’ll never let that space grow again.

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The GPS blanks out shortly past them turning off the main road, much to her confusion, as the street they’re on is very much paved. Joaquin notes the knit in her brow, and offers a grin with an explanation, “This is the driveway. All this belongs to me— my family, they wanted their house at the center of it all. These are all orchards.”

After all this time, she’s become acutely aware of Joaquin’s financial status. If it weren’t for the downpour of gifts, the stacks of paperwork that occupied his attention during their calls and FaceTimes had made it transparently obvious. However, seeing it before her eyes couldn’t be more jarring. His car takes them from a dark asphalt path to one of sandy, beige stone, leading up to a mansion that’s nothing short of a palace. It’s perfect for California, with a white stone exterior. Rounded tuscan-style tiles of an earthy red shade decorate the roof. Gardeners take delicate care of the flowers surrounding the entrance, and Joaquin greets them with a smile as he drives up to the front door, circling the statue of a headless angel at the center of the roundabout. 

“This is all so beautiful,” she muses, beaming, her orbs and her simper twinkling just alike. “I really appreciate you bringing me here, this is the coolest house I think I’ve ever seen.” Joaquin hums, and tells her it’s not a big deal as he removes his shoes near the entryway, feet sliding into a pair of navy green slippers. Hopping up the stairs leading to the set of wooden double doors, a step and a half behind him, she spins a full circle, ogling at the masterpiece of a lawn from a proper point of view, filling her chest with a deep breath. Her compliment isn’t empty politeness, it truly is the grandest place she’s ever visited. To say she’s out of her depths is an understatement, and she glues her palms to her jeans. She thought she was scared of heights, snakes, or bugs, yet the mere thought of bumping a table and shattering one of the beautiful, priceless glass motifs climbs her list of fears at the speed of light. 

Not only would it drive Joaquin away, and upset him, but in no universe would she be able to financially recover — that is, if she could cover the cost in the first place. 

Joaquin sets a pair of slippers before her, looking almost as skittish as she feels. “You c-could stay here,” he stammers without thinking, eyes widening upon realization, hurriedly attempting to apologize, “Sorry. Not like with me— I know you booked at a hotel, but we have a lot of rooms— I wouldn’t ask you to have sex with me on our first day of—” Cutting himself off mid-sentence, he glances up. She’s staring at him, amused, with that same fondness from earlier. “Stop. Don’t laugh.”

“I wasn’t going to laugh!” 

A chuckle slips past her lips, betraying her. “You’re laughing!” Joaquin grunts, rubbing a hand over his face, shamefaced. It isn’t fair to take her time removing her sneakers and shoving her feet into the provided pearly white slippers, to make him wait. It isn’t fair at all, but what is she to do when he looks so cute standing there, blushing? “Say something… please.”

“I don’t think… that…  and I wouldn’t mind staying over…” she replies, trailing off, looking anywhere but his eyes, teasing him. 

“But? Is there a but in there?” His frown deepens, high cheekbones glowing pink. “You’re still fucking with me!” A sigh, and her countenance softens. 

“You already did so much for me, I owe you so much money, I don’t wanna impose and—”

“I don’t care about that. I’d really — really like it if you spent the night — if you’re comfy enough with me to do that — I know it’s probably weird, though, so I’m probably scaring you — Christ.” This time, he runs both hands down his red hot face, and blurts out, “I really like you! I’m so excited that you’re here and I don’t wanna look like a fuckin’ virgin and give you the ick — you can say no, I won’t be mad, but just know I’ll keep a safe distance and—”

“Don’t want you to keep a safe distance,” she cuts in. It sucks all the air out of his lungs; he waits with bated breath. Her voice subsides, quietens to say, “I’ll stay. I would love to stay… I mean, came all this way to see you, right? I should spend as much time with you as I can, no?” 

“Yeah,  yeah… I think so, too…” Soothed by her answer, Joaquin pads closer, she has to tilt her head up to maintain eye contact. His curls curtain his gaze; longing, locked in on her parted lips — it flicks up, he wordlessly asks for permission, and she lifts her chin in response. Her heart pounds against her ribcage, teeth digging into her lower lip as one large hand snakes around her hip, two fingers in her belt loop. He’s so close, close enough to breathe in his expensive cologne, the one made in 2007 that he always complains about not finding — the mint on his lips, the gum he chews to help him quit smoking. Surreal doesn’t cover it, he’s a materialization of every fun fact he’s ever told her, and sure, that’s how life works, but how could the years craft someone so desirable? Someone she gets the privilege of feeling, her palms against his torso. He’s warm — strong under her touch, and his heart… it threatens to beat out of his chest, right into her hand as he kisses her. He’s all soft lips and careful tugs to her hips, his other hand finds the opposite loop, the pads of his thumbs glide under the hem of her cotton shirt — he kisses her like he’s trying to slow down time; gentle, patient. 

It’s romantic, liplocking in the arched doorway of a mansion surrounded by orchards, the sun setting in front of them, silhouetting them in pinks and purples. She pulls back only once she’s breathless, bunching his shirt into her fists, and Joaquin chases one last peck, followed by a bright white grin that crinkles his eyes. He’s about to speak when an older woman emerges from around the corner, and squeals, picking up speed until she’s standing before them, either oblivious to their closeness or indifferent to it. 

“This is the girl you were telling me about!” She sings the words, smiling from ear to ear. Joaquin, slightly miffed, looks at her and sighs, dragging his hand across the belt of the younger girl’s jeans, over the small of her back to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Yes, mom, this is her,” he groans, his cheeks taking on a rosy hue once more, out of embarrassment this time. A type of embarrassment that only a mother can invoke in her child. He goes about introducing them, gesturing his hand from one to the other, “  —and this is my mom, Esperanza.” 

“I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so good to finally meet you!” Esperanza shakes her hand with both of hers, glowing with joy. 

“He talks about me?” 

The grunt Joaquin lets out is answer enough, though Esperanza is more than happy to elaborate: “Oh, yes! At this point, there isn’t much else he talks about. He was so excited about you coming here, he had his outfit set on his bed like picture day was coming up—”

“Mama!” 

“Ah… right. You weren’t supposed to know about that.” Esperanza reaches out and pets his curls dotingly, her laughter mixing with that of their visitor’s. “I’m sorry, cariño, it was an accident!” It’s an endearing sight, the masculine, self-sufficient, all-capable presence that is Joaquin Torres defeated by his adoring mother in front of the girl he’s utterly enamored by. “Shall we eat? I’m very excited for tonight’s dinner, I have so many questions for you!” Then, she boops the younger girl’s nose — boops it, leaving her stunned as she all but dances away. 

“I am so sorry,” Joaquin groans out, covering his eyes with his free hand. Even still, his fingers are wrapped around her waist. “That was so—”

“Cute. That was so cute.” Interrupted for the umpteenth time, he’s once again led away from his anxiety by her sweet voice. “I love your outfit, too…  Very impressed.” A playful scowl tugs at his upper lip and she giggles, pushing up onto her tiptoes to kiss it away. 

“Thank god for that,” he murmurs against her mouth, kissing her once more just as his mother’s voice bellows from the opposite end of the hallway, and he rolls his eyes, tugging the girl along towards the dining room. “C’mon.”

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⠀⠀ ⠀ © CLUBSOFT⠀⠀ ⠀

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