Sigh…

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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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- 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.

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

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

Color Me Yours~ J.T.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Desi!Fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, all bets were off.

⸻

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

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

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

—————

Later that day…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I KNOW THATS RIGHT, JOAQUÍN COME THROUGHHH 🗣️🗣️

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

Hangman’s tapping out ceremony

warning: bad parents

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you” Jake forced out through his sobs.

“Anytime man. Welcome to the Machado family.”

Is this a safe space to say that I love to see injured hot men cry 😿

Fun Fact! It’s impossible to dislike him.

“people are allowed to dislike things” WRONG nobody is allowed to dislike sam wilson

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.