Introducing The García-torres Twins. Yes They Exist In The Same Universe Bc I Have Free Will

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

Oh my god the fan edits came true…

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

Nobody Gets Me | Joaquin Torres

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

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

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

Word Count: 10.4k (of sadness)

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was accomplished after one year and three months.

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

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

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

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

Especially after the incident in the ocean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was as if time was frozen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He watched you leave, scoffing while shaking his head.

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

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

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

It was clearly a touchy subject.

That night Joaquin couldn’t sleep.

Neither could you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You remember that look, the look of unconditional love. 

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

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

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

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

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

Bob noticed you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really do love you guys.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You always cared, you did your best. 

He didn’t. 

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

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

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

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

But sometimes love isn’t enough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was hanging on by a thin thread. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have nothing to say to you Joaquin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he didn’t.

Now he was the cause of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence was suffocating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joaquin only hoped that the goodbye would be temporary.

-

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

— THIRD AMENDMENT

you exercise your right to deny soldiers housing

pairing: best friends!Bucky and Steve x best friend!reader

wc: 422

warnings: none, just our favorite super soldiers 🤞🏼

authors note: this idea has been radiating in my mind for like ever ngl 😛😛

The sound of laughter echoed from outside of your door as you stood at the other side with your phone at eye level. You giggled waiting for either Steve or Bucky to open the door. They’d received invitations to attend a gala to celebrate World War II veterans and were thrilled to attend. By the sounds of it, they had a good time. Finally, you heard the door knob twist open and you finally start recording. You were greeted with James’ bright face which then contorted to confusion at the sight of your camera. “Yankee Doodle” echoed throughout your foyer as you closed the door on their faces while wiggling your index finger at them.

Steve pushed his face against the glass door trying to see what you were doing. You took the opportunity to get a close up on his face on the glass, trying to keep your hand steady while giggling hard. The fifteen second audio finally ended and your giggles broke out into laughter. You saved the video to your drafts before cracking the door open slightly.

“Whatcha doing there, doll” Bucky asks with a slight smirk.

“Exercising my rights, Sergeant” you reply slyly

“Yeah well technically this is our home too, so it doesn’t really apply does it” Steve replies

“Whose name is on the lease, Captain?”

“Touché” Steve answers

After a beat, you finally open the door wide and they walk in.

“No seriously though, what was that?” Bucky asks as he takes his shoes off

“This one TikTok trend” You say making space for them to enter

“Basically, people will record their loved one’s coming back from enlistment and shut the door on them while the screen says something like “When my roommates try to come back home but I know my third amendment right” get it?”

You walk back to your couch only a few feet away and plop straight down. You sit down and open TikTok once more. The video plays and you can feel Bucky’s and Steve’s body heat from behind you as they watch along. You can hear their chuckles from behind at your antics.

“I like that, that’s funny” Steve chuckles out

“Let’s hope the internet does too” you say after captioning the video and posting it.

They laughed at this I promise 🤞🏼

comments—

tennesseeprincess- Personally I’d fold immediately if CAPTAIN AMERICA showed up at my door but wtvs 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

hrts444u- SMASH.

bannerslover- now who took my pants

dliflvr- doing that to Captain America and Bucky Barnes is crazy 💀

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

— STAY FOR BREAKFAST

You enjoy his company for a bit longer

pairing: Joaquín x fem!reader

pt.2 here

wc: 1.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are some you know.”

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

You keep laughing.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!” You and Joaquín reply simultaneously.

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

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

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

“Sam?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are we?” You mumble groggily.

“Back at your place, Angel.”

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

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

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

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

“Getting my pjs dummy.”

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

“Top of the dresser.”

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

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

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

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

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

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.”

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

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

— SEVEN MINUTES

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

Iron!dad and Spider!son (ish)

wc: 2.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Stark?” Peter huffed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remember when you stopped that bank robbery?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute name, is it actually MJ though?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

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

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

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

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

“So how’d you actually ask her out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes! Where are you going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god look!”

“What?”

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

“Holy shit it is!” The boy yelled.

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

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

“Jeez I’m already on it MJ, chill!”

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