#joaquin the falcon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

donottouchredbutton · 8 months

Text

In a Heartbeat

joaquin torres x sunshine!reader/ofc

4k words

she saves someone, and joaquin saves her.

moodboard

note: i wrote this with my oc in mind that i plan to write more about, but i wanted it to be read as a reader insert as well! let me know what you think :)

She had been living in Washington DC for a little over a year now. She moved there for grad school, and some of the excitement had yet to wear off still. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, with all of the good schools nearby and all of the things to do and learn in the capital. It seemed like a busy enough place to never be bored, which was exactly what she wanted. It really had seemed like a smart idea, especially since she hadn’t had any problems since moving there.

Until she did.

She was out with her roommate after classes had ended for the day, enjoying the warm spring day and simply happy to be people watching as they hung out. It had quickly become one of her favorite things since moving there, something she shared with her roommate, Jasmine. She was always glad she and Jazzy got along so well and liked spending time together, often spending time just being out and about like today.

Jazzy was showing her a small outdoor shopping district just outside of a park. It must’ve been really popular because it was packed with people. People were out walking their dogs, parents were out shopping with their kids, couples and friends were on dates and lounging on the grassy areas. Music was coming from the open doors of one of the stores, loud enough to carry even as you walked away from it. Something smelled good, like fresh bread and cinnamon sugar, and she wanted to follow her nose to figure out where it was coming from. There was a warm breeze that made her shiver whenever they walked in the shade, so she pulled Jazzy away to make sure they stayed in the sun. A few kids ran past them playing tag. It made her smile, she hoped they were having fun.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed a bit of commotion going on. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was progressively getting louder. From the looks of it, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed as many of the people nearby were looking around as well. It continued to grow louder and louder until she spotted a large group of people running in their direction, all shouting and screaming to get away. A ways behind them, she spotted a group of big looking men in scary looking masks carrying scary looking weapons, all running after them with their weapons pointed forward. Before she could think about how cliche that sounded, she knew they had to get away first. Many people around them were coming to the same conclusion as they all began turning tail and running. She and Jazzy shared a look of understanding before following suit.

As everyone kept running away and the noise was getting louder, another noise caught her attention above all the commotion. She could just barely hear a small voice calling for help, but it was loud enough to get her to stop running. Her head whipped around trying to find whoever it was, wherever it was coming from. Her eyes landed on a little girl sitting on the ground holding a little boy, and even from her distance she could see they were crying.

“MOMMY!” the little girl kept shouting, tears running down her face as she tried to pull the little boy up with her. They had to be brother and sister. She sounded terrified.

She took off before she could think about what she was doing. She could vaguely hear Jazzy calling after her, trying to get her to turn around and come back, but she couldn’t. The only thing on her mind was getting to those kids before they could get hurt. She wouldn’t let that happen.

She slid to a stop and knelt down next to the kids when she got to them, unconcerned about the fact that she tore a hole in her jeans by doing so, nor the bruises and scrapes she no doubt would have on her knees either. The little girl, maybe seven or eight, kept pulling on her brother’s arm trying to get him to move, but he was sat on the ground firmly, bawling his eyes out and refusing to move. She knew he couldn’t have been older than three years old.

She looked around for anyone who could have been their mother, anyone willing to help, but everyone was running in the opposite direction. She turned her head to see the group of men getting closer and closer, and they were gaining fast. She was the only one around.

“I need to get you out of here,” she said, turning back to the two kids, voice urgent. “I’ll get you back to your mom, I promise.”

She tried to pick up the little boy, who immediately started shouting and fighting when she did so. He was on the verge of a full-blown breakdown, determined to stay exactly where he was no matter what she did.

“He won’t let anyone but mom pick him up,” the little girl cried, “but I don’t know where mommy is!”

Seeing how frightened they were broke her heart. There was no getting them to move if she couldn’t pick the little boy up, but she couldn’t just leave them. She wouldn’t. She didn’t know what to do, and she was struggling to come up with something fast enough. With another glance over her shoulder, she realized she was out of time. They were too close now, seconds away and coming right towards them.

“Hold onto him, and don’t let go!” she ordered the girl. Once the girl did as she said, she grabbed both of the kids and held them to her chest, making sure neither of them would get hit as she awaited the inevitable first—and what she expected to be the final—blow to hit.

She felt a strong gust of air rush over her head, and at the sound of a fight right behind her, she held on tighter to the kids in her arms. She knew this was it. In a heartbeat, it’d be finished. She’d be finished.

“Are you okay?”

The voice was closer than she expected, making her jump, but it sounded genuinely concerned. Chancing a glance behind her, she was met with a pair of soft brown eyes.

She looked past the man to see what was going on, only just noticing that the commotion had stopped, and she could see that the group of men were all lying on the ground unconscious with a man holding a shield standing above them. Everyone knew who Captain America was, but she never expected to come across him herself. Knowing that the kids would be safe now, she looked back to the man in front of her and was shocked to see he had a pair of wings on his back. The Falcon. They were positioned in a way that was meant to shield them from any danger.

She finally looked back at the Falcon. His eyes hadn’t left her the entire time, and he stayed put in front of them, as if he wanted to make sure nothing could happen to them even with the threat gone.

Instead of answering the man, she turned back to the kids in her arms. They were still crying and scared, she knew they would be, but at least she knew they would be safe now. She scanned over them for any injuries, and once she knew they were unharmed, she cupped the little girl’s face to get her attention.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay now. You’re safe,” she assured her, speaking softly to help her calm down a bit. She stroked her cheek to gently wipe away her tears. She felt her own heart beating out of her chest, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. “I’m gonna get you back to your mom now, okay? Let’s go find your mom.”

She glanced back at the man behind her again, who still hadn’t moved, before she eased the kids up into standing. The weight of the situation was finally catching up to her, her head swimming as she tried her hardest to focus on getting the kids back to their mom before anything else. She kept looking between them and the man who saved them. Stuttering, she said, “I… I need-”

“MOMMY!” the little girl called, grabbing her brother’s hand and running to meet the woman who was running towards them.

She watched as the older woman dropped to her knees to meet her children in an embrace, her own tears streaming down her face as she held her children to her chest. The woman began kissing all over their faces and on the tops of their heads, and the woman’s voice was just loud enough for her to hear her repeating my babies to the children in her arms.

She was walking towards the family before she knew what she was doing. Her knees were screaming at her causing her to limp slightly, but she didn’t care. She needed to make sure they would be okay. Once she was close enough, the woman looked up at her and a look of gratitude crossed her face.

“Thank you,” the woman managed to say through her tears. “Thank you for protecting my babies.” For a moment, she thought the woman was talking to the Falcon, the one who actually had saved her kids, but the woman was looking at her.

“You don’t…” she started, beginning to shake her head, but she knew it would be pointless. Instead, she said, “I’m just glad you and your kids are safe.”

She watched them a few more moments before the woman gathered her kids up and hurried away from the scene. She couldn’t blame them, she wanted to do the same.

She suddenly remembered the man who had saved them. The Falcon (she couldn’t get over it). She turned back towards him, and this time she really took him in. His wings had retracted back into his suit, thankfully, as they had been very distracting. He was tall without being towering. His skin looked warm and sun-kissed with sharp cheekbones that made her wonder what he looked like when he smiled. He had a head of short, curly black hair, and those soft brown eyes. Those eyes that were still watching, a strange gleam present that hadn’t been there before.

She didn’t really know what to say, feeling awkward, but she didn’t need to. Before she could even thank him, he spoke instead.

“Are you okay?” he asked again. Something told her that he wouldn’t leave until he knew she was.

“I’m fine,” she finally answered. She didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not, but she still wasn’t able to focus on how she really felt. The kids were safe, their mother was safe, and as far as she was concerned, that’s all that mattered. And this man made sure of that. “Thank you.”

The man seemed to relax a bit at that, his shoulders losing some of their tension. He opened his mouth to say something else, but another voice cut in.

“Torres! We gotta go, man!”

It was Captain America who interrupted (which was something she never thought she’d experience), having just been talking with the police who she hadn’t noticed had arrived. They were hauling the men—masks gone and in handcuffs now—into the backs of the police cars. The hero was inspecting their weapons, clearly waiting for the other man—Torres, apparently—to join back up with him. Torres looked between the two of them, seeming conflicted. Before either of them could say anything, they were once again interrupted.

The sound of Jazzy calling her name snapped her out of whatever was going on, and she turned to see her roommate running straight towards her. Before she could comprehend what was going on, Jazzy was grabbing her arm and pulling her away, determined to get them away from anything else that might happen. She looked back at the man, Torres, and called out another thank you! before she let her roommate lead her away from the scene.

—

In truth, she didn’t think she would ever see him again. Why would she? He was The Falcon, Captain America’s partner and a superhero in his own right. He had to have saved countless people all the time. He probably wasn’t even in DC anymore. There was no way she would see him again.

But then she did.

She volunteered at a local elementary school, and today they were taking the fifth graders down to the veterans rehabilitation center. They liked to decorate the walls with pictures and bring flowers for the veterans, wanting to try to brighten their days a bit and thank them for their service while doing so, and she liked being part of it as well. She couldn’t imagine what some of them have gone through, but she would sometimes sit in on the group sessions to try to understand more. It was why she made sure to take the kids there at least once every couple weeks.

“It was so nice seeing you and the kids again, sunshine!” the kind lady at the front desk said as she was getting them ready to leave. It was a nickname she had quickly picked up since they started going there, and it always made her laugh.

“Of course, Laura!” she replied. “I’m just glad they like coming down here as much as I do.”

Laura chuckled lowly. “Your visits always make everyones day. They may not say it often, but they appreciate it. More than you know.”

She smiled softly at that. “We try our best. We just want to show our respect and try to brighten things up for everyone, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, hun. What you do with the kids and for everyone here, not many people would do it. We all appreciate everything you do around here. We appreciate you.”

She looked down bashfully at the older woman’s kind words. She never really knew what to say to that. Her eyes flicked back up to Laura. “Oh, I almost forgot!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small bin. “I know you’ve been wanting to try Jazzy’s brownies.”

The wide grin that appeared on Laura’s face was enough for one to form on her’s as well. She nearly snatched the bin out of her hand, causing her to laugh. “You spoil me, sunshine!”

The two shared a few more words before she checked the time, knowing she needed to leave soon if she didn’t want the bus to leave without her. She said goodbye to Laura with a promise to be back the next week, and the other woman jokingly promised to be ready for more treats. With a wave and another smile to her friend, she began making her way to the front doors. She was in high spirits as she was preparing to leave, paying no mind to the man she passed on her way out until he called out to her.

“Hey, it’s you!”

She almost didn’t stop, but when she looked around the area and saw it was mostly void of people, she figured it was her he was trying to get the attention of. When she stopped and turned around, her eyes widened when they met the same soft brown ones she first saw just the other day.

“It’s you,” she repeated, not knowing what to say.

For a moment, she wondered how she could even miss him. Sure, he wasn’t wearing his suit or his wings and seemed, therefore, much less intimidating–not that he seemed intimidating in the first place, but he did save her life, and there’s just something about meeting a superhero face to face that makes a person feel overly self-aware. Without the suit on, you wouldn’t even assume he was a superhero, though in her head she was kicking herself because of course that was the point. He just seemed so normal, and she felt like she could pay more attention now that her life wasn’t on the line. He wore a dark green jacket over a black shirt and jeans, a pair of sunglasses hanging from one of the pockets. His shoulders filled out his jacket well, subtly showing off his built but lean muscles. Part of her wished she could remember what they looked like in his suit when they were more noticeable, and she mentally kicked herself again for thinking that about a complete stranger. His dark curls were styled simply and looked soft to the touch, and she was sure they were.

Those eyes, though. Unlike before, his soft eyes were looking at her in pleasant surprise rather than concern, his lips quirking up in what was almost a smile. But that weird gleam she saw before was still there, and if anything, it was much more apparent than before.

It took her a few more seconds to realize neither one of them had said anything, her eyes glancing off to the side as her mind raced for something to say. He must’ve realized the same thing because his eyes widened suddenly, taking a step toward her once he knew he had her attention.

“Sorry, um,” he began, searching for his words, “I just didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but I’m glad I did. How are you doing, after what happened?”

Her eyes widened slightly again, surprised by his words. “I-I’m doing fine,” she answered, but she wasn’t sure how much she believed herself. She added, “‘ve just been trying to get back to normal, is all.”

He seemed satisfied enough with her answer and started to nod, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

His words surprised her again. In a burst of confidence, she replied with, “Well, I did have someone to save me.”

His smile grew as he looked down sheepishly, and she thought she heard him say just doing my job under his breath. When he looked back up at her, she thought she liked seeing that gleam in his eyes, especially when he smiled. She thought happiness looked good on him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked gently, suddenly remembering where she still was.

“Oh, I’m here to meet my partner,” he answered. “He helps out with the counseling sessions when he can. But I’ve got some information I need to discuss with Cap.”

Somehow, it didn’t surprise her to hear that about Captain America. In fact, it made her respect him even more for trying to help people on a more personal level, not just fighting as a superhero. Saving lives on all fronts, she was sure. But the way he talked about why he was there was just vague enough to pique her interest, and just telling enough for her to understand she shouldn’t pry. She was going to find a way to politely remove herself from the conversation, but he spoke again before she could.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, repeating her own question. He cringed at the way it came out, so he quickly added, “I just mean, this is the last place I expected to see you. Are you in the military?”

She shook her head, nearly chuckling. “No, I’m not. The school I volunteer at brings some of the older students down here every few weeks. We like to bring flowers and write cards, you know, to try to show our respect and appreciation. Try to brighten up people’s days where we can.”

“You do all this?” He asked, gesturing toward the decorations on the walls and the flowers here and there. His eyes had widened in surprise again, and it was her turn to look down bashfully this time.

“Not just me. It’s the kids, mostly, but I like to help out.”

He looked impressed, and something about the look on his face and those damn eyes caused her face to heat up. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention.

“Well, I can confidently say that I’m not the only one around here who loves seeing all of the notes and decorations,” he said softly, the smile on his face filling her with a sense of warmth she hadn’t felt before. “It’s amazing what you’ve been doing. We all appreciate what you do. And the kids, of course.”

Something told her that he was speaking more for himself than he was for everyone else, and somehow she knew that he meant it toward her directly. The thought made her smile.

His face suddenly got more serious, though, instantly making her feel nervous. “What you did the other day, with those two kids, too. That was amazing.”

That was not something she was expecting, and she definitely didn’t know how to respond to it. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down, suddenly feeling shy. “I did what anyone would do.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No, really. You saved those kids. I may be the one with wings, but you’re the real hero. It was incredible.”

When she glanced back up at him, she saw that a small smile had reappeared on his lips, and somehow, it was enough to ease some of the tension in her shoulders. It was enough to comfort her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, and it made her feel seen in a way she never had. All with one look, which is what really surprised her. She knew deflecting would be useless, so she settled with telling him, barely loud enough for him to hear, “Thank you.” And she meant it more than he knew.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked one final time.

She wanted to laugh that he wouldn’t let it go so easily. “I am, or I will be. I promise,” she answered, and she knew she was telling the truth this time. “Besides, this wouldn’t be my first time in a situation like that, and I’m sure it won’t be my last.” Now that got a good reaction out of him, even though it was the truth.

“Speaking of the kids, though,” she said before he could think about it too much, checking the time again and realizing she’d officially run out of time, “I have to get going so I don’t get left behind.” She looked him over one more time, trying to memorize as much as she could, before she began to turn away. “It was nice to see you again, and to talk. And thank you, again, for saving me.”

His smile warmed her from the inside out. “If it meant getting to see you again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

She forced herself not to shudder before turning around. She had only made it a few more steps before he suddenly stopped her again.

“Wait!” he called, almost too loudly for the quiet hallway. “I didn’t ever get your name!”

She wanted to kick herself again. How had they gone this entire conversation without learning each other’s names? She glanced back over her shoulder, seeing that he had barely moved from his spot. With a warm smile directed at him, she told him her name.

Another smile began to form on his face in return, and it looked like he repeated her name under his breath. Their eyes met a final time before he responded with his own. “I’m Joaquin. It was really nice to meet you, too.”

She turned around before he could catch the wide grin that was beginning to form on her face against her will and tried to rush out of there as subtly as she could. As she went, she could just hear him, Joaquin, repeat her name a second time, and even from where she was she could hear a smile in his tone. She left the building with a bounce in her step and a warm feeling in her chest.

All because of the Falcon who saved her.

#joaquin torres #joaquín torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #joaquín torres imagine #joaquin torres imagine #tfatws #danny ramirez #joaquin torres x ofc #joaquín torres x ofc #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel fanfic #tfatws fic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #marvel oc #tfatws fanfic

121 notes · View notes

haven-of-dusk · 3 months

Text

Since Danny Ramirez is on my brain, I miss Joaquin Torres.

Like I am also excited for more Sam Wilson as Captain America, but I'd be lying if I said Joaquin wasn't my main source of anticipation for that movie.

Give him his own season of What If...? Marvel, you cowards, or his own show, or anything, I'll even take shorts like with Groot. I'm pretty sure any of it would be better recieved than making a fifth Captain Carter project...

#joaquin torres #danny ramirez #falcon

44 notes · View notes

tom-whore-dleston · 1 year

Text

Home is Wherever I'm With You

Pairing ▹ roommate!Joaquin Torres x f. reader

This fic contains ▹ fluff, some angst, implied smut, idiots in love, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, smoking weed, hospitals, mention of gunshots, a lot of pancakes

Word Count ▹ 2k

Summary ▹ Oh, home, let me come home | Home is wherever I'm with you

Notes ▹ Finally got around to completing my submission for @the-slumberparty’s Across the Universe (week 4) challenge. This fic is inspired by this moodboard from an old sleepover. Feel free to listen to the playlist for extra vibes! This is unbeta'ed so I take full responsibility for all the errors. Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed! 😊

You didn’t understand the phrase “home is where the heart is'' until you moved in with Joaquin Torres.

This living arrangement happened by chance, a chance that you were grateful to have stumbled upon. After deciding it was time for you to leave the nest, you found a place for rent that also had a few other roommates. One of them being Joaquin.

You met Joaquin and the other roommates before moving in with them. Luckily, you all hit it off right away and settled in fairly quickly. But you found yourself really close to Joaquin. He was the one roommate that had a similar schedule to yours. You both would wake up late in the morning before heading to work, and then come home in the darkest hours of the night.

The first time you discovered how late Joaquin returned home from work was the night your friendship began. After coming home from a long day, you decided to treat yourself to a batch of pancakes. The rest of your roommates were heavy sleepers so you rarely disturbed them. Since you were occupied with the pancakes, you didn’t hear Joaquin come through the door. He waltzed into the kitchen upon smelling the pancakes and crept up behind you.

“I bet those would taste amazing with bananas,” Joaquin commented nonchalantly. You whipped your head around, swatting the spatula in his direction and accidentally coating his nose with batter.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You gasped, attempting to clean the mess from his face. “I thought you were an intruder. I didn’t mean to hurt you…or cover you in pancake batter.”

Joaquin snickered. “Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt me at all. But I admire your self defense skills. I think that will give me motivation to keep the bathroom clean.”

You joined in his laughter. “I think I made enough for you if you’d like some pancakes. You might have to slice your own bananas, though.”

With that, you and your roommate shared the short stacks while getting to know one another better. This ritual of late night snacks after work persisted until the conversations grew louder to the point of accidentally waking one of your other roommates. Since that incident, you and Joaquin decided it would be best to meet one another at the 24 hour diner down the street.

Over time, your roommates moved out one by one until you and Joaquin were left to hold down the fort. The two of you living together consisted of movie binges on the weekends, checking out the monthly farmer’s market, dancing while cleaning the perimeter of the house, and taking walks along your street during sunset. Slowly, but surely, you were falling deeply in love with Joaquin.

You knew you had strong feelings for him when you both decided to buy a bookshelf for your ever growing book collection. While building the bookshelf, you jammed the hammer against your finger, causing you to shriek in pain and the rest of your body to go numb. All you remembered before blacking out was your roommate rushing to your side and carrying you out the house bridal style. A few hours later, you woke up in the hospital with a cast wrapped around your finger and a relieved Joaquin holding a bouquet of roses and baby's breaths. The smell of the flowers and his sweet, handsome face instantly brought you comfort.

“Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” You asked upon noticing the time on your bedside.

“I told Sam what happened and he ordered that I stay here with you.” You gave him a sad look, feeling bad that your clumsiness caused him to miss out at work. Joaquin smiled, patting your hand. “Don’t worry, Sam is understanding.” The softness of his hand against yours sent butterflies to your stomach. Your heart began to swell as if it would explode inside your chest from all the feelings you were experiencing in that moment. His touch, his smile, his affection for you. It was all clear to you then. You were in love with Joaquin Torres.

After returning home from the hospital, Joaquin spent the entire week by your side, making sure you were taken care of. Sure, you were a grown up and could care for yourself, but you appreciated how your roommate reminded you that you don’t have to be alone in the healing process. He would sing softly while tending to your finger and let you smoke some of his weed to ease the pain. Once you started feeling better, you and Joaquin finished building the bookcase together and he offered to read one of his favorite stories to you.

One day while Joaquin read to you, Sam called him, notifying him of an emergency assignment and was expected to leave right away. The night before he left, you and Joaquin crashed on the couch after getting high and watching an alien documentary on Netflix. You fell asleep before he did, and, naturally, your body curled up next to his as you dozed off. He listened to your snores for a few minutes before planting a tender peck on top of your head. Before he knew it, Joaquin drifted off to sleep.

You woke up alone in the living room, searching for Joaquin. Instead, you were met with a note on the coffee table.

Sorry I couldn’t give a proper goodbye. You looked so peaceful sleeping, I would have been a horrible friend to wake you up. I’ll see you in a month!

-J

While your roommate was away on mission, you spent your days sulking and missing him. You tried to go on with your routine as if he was still there, but things felt empty and meaningless. The pancakes from the diner didn’t taste as fluffy when you ate alone. The music you listened to while cleaning the house didn’t lift your mood the way it did with Joaquin. His favorite stories didn’t sweep you away to another world the way it did when he read them. The flowers around your house died faster, even though you tended to them the same way you always had. You didn’t even bother taking walks or going to the farmer’s market by yourself. It was the longest month you had ever experienced in your life.

Meanwhile, Joaquin could not wait to fly back home to you. The days were long and draining, and it seemed as if he and Sam were constantly running into dead ends. What kept him motivated during this difficult mission was a photo booth strip he kept of you and him at the summer fair. Even though looking at the pictures made him miss you dearly, he was hopeful of the day he would reunite with him.

“Is that the roommate?” Sam inquired from behind Joaquin’s shoulder. The Falcon’s cheeks warmed up and he began smiling like a smitten school boy. Joaquin didn’t need to say anything for Sam to know what was on his mind.

“So, are you ever going to tell her you love her?” Captain America added with a quirked eyebrow.

“I’ve been wanting to. I just get nervous.” Joaquin peered down at his combat boots. “She’s my best friend, Sam. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Ouch, and after all we’ve been through, I thought I was your best friend.” Sam’s joke led to Joaquin letting out a small chuckle. “No, but seriously, you will feel much more free once you just tell her.” The younger lad nodded, imagining all the best case scenarios of confessing his love for you. His daydreams of you were cut off by the gunshots that echoed in the distance.

The end of the month finally rolled around, yet there was no sign of Joaquin. Anxiety took over your body as you wondered why he hasn’t come home yet. Part of you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but your sadness made your mind wander to anything and everything that could have gone wrong. You dragged yourself to work as you have been doing for the entirety of Joaquin’s absence. While you worked, you stared at the matching photo booth strip pinned to the wall of your office. A hot tear streamed down your cheek, longing to see Joaquin’s face and hear his voice again.

After work, you came home, ready to settle into your comfy bed. You sighed loudly as you hopped out of your car, slamming the driver’s door shut and locking it behind you. All of a sudden, your eyes landed on a motorcycle that you haven’t seen in over a month. Then, you saw light coming from inside the house. Could it be?

You ripped off your work pumps, bolting into the house barefoot in hopes that your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you. As you entered through the front door, the delicious scent of bananas and vanilla filled your nostrils. Your heart bursted at the seams upon the sight you found in the kitchen. Joaquin was humming along to your favorite song while drizzling a stack of banana pancakes with syrup. As if sensing your presence, he beamed a sparkling smile while turning to face you.

“I came home an hour ago to an empty home. Figured you were still at work and you’d probably be hungry when you come back.” He paused, glancing at the plate on the counter. “I made sure to add bananas this time.”

Your lips trembled as you fought the urge to cry. You wanted to run and jump into his arms, feel his warmth bring you back to life, kiss the lips you have been aching to taste for an entire year. All you could do was drop your bag and heels by your side as you succumbed to the tears that fell from your face. Joaquin took that as his signal to step closer to you. He caressed your face, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I missed you,” you croaked, finally embracing him tightly. Your hearts beat in sync with one another, as if that was the way the universe wanted it.

“I missed you too.” He stroked the back of your head before making space to gaze into your glossy eyes. “It’s hard to be away from the girl I am madly in love with.” You couldn’t help but let out a tearful giggle at the words that left Joaquin’s mouth. It felt as if all of your wildest dreams were coming true. Yet it was only the beginning.

“Being The Falcon requires me to travel the world so often, and to see places I’ve always wanted to visit. But none of that matters to me because despite where I go, I find myself wanting to be wherever you are instead.”

“I love you, Joaquin.” You started to close the space between you and him. The tips of your noses brushed together, the heat from your breaths mingling like your feelings for one another.

“I love you, too, cariño.” With that, he finally pressed his lips against yours. You kissed one another with a passion that no one could snuff out. His lips were sweeter than the pancakes that were long neglected on the counter. Joaquin lifted you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you to the couch where you both professed your love throughout the rest of the night.

When you both woke up the next morning, bare bodies intertwined under the thin blanket, you felt a sense of belonging. It was unfamiliar to the two of you, but it was a feeling you accepted with open arms. You and Joaquin were both hopeful of the future that you were ready to build together like the bookcase filled with stories you hoped would become your reality. After locking eyes for what seemed like eternity, Joaquin kissed you with fervor, and you picked up where you left off from last night.

He was home, and so were you.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Joaquin Torres Masterlist

167 notes · View notes

rqgnarok · 9 months

Text

catalogue - sam wilson

fandom: marvel, the falcon & the winter soldier

wc: 4,368

warnings: implied smut, mentions of injuries and scars, blood and bruises. neutral pronouns, no use of (y/n).

summary: you and sam don’t get to see each other often, but when you do, there’s a ritual you insist on going through to deal with your time apart.

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

You’re a sight for Sam’s sore eyes.

He hasn’t seen you in over six months. It’s an occupational hazard, he knows, but it’s the worst. Being the Falcon made his personal life take a step back in his list of priorities, and becoming Captain America meant setting the list on fire and declaring Sam Wilson’s downtime practically nonexistent. As far as he’s aware, Sarah and the boys are the only exceptions to the rule.

It’s not all on him. You’re an Avenger, too, even if you’re semi-retired. Semi, because the new kids still look for guidance as much as they can and you still keep a room at the Avengers compound because of it, even if scarcely decorated.

You make your entrance by scaring the shit out of him because of course, you have to.

“Is this what you call watching your six?”

Sam puffs out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. It’s always an interesting mix of emotions with you, Sam has never felt so safe and yet unbalanced than when he’s in your presence. It creates a sort of vacuum in his belly that has him feeling like a kid with a crush, but he’ll die before he ever admits that to anyone. Especially you.

“You know you don’t have to sneak up on me every time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you quip, raising your brows and extending a hand that Sam takes to haul himself back on his feet. You click your tongue. “Gotta say, though, it’s a little less charming now that you’re Captain America. Where does that leave national security?”

Sam rolls his eyes so hard he’s about to give himself a headache, dusting off his ass and giving you a quick once-over, taking advantage of your sudden closeness to do so freely. “Thank Jesus the world still has you, then.”

“Only half time,” you shrug, unaware that Sam knows you’ve spent more time at the Avengers compound than your own apartment lately. If he has a few eyes that check up on you when you’re there, well. It’s only cause he worries. “You and Barnes playing in the Big Leagues leaves a lot of unfinished business for little guys like us.”

“Says the little guy who’s been to space,” Sam uses the same argument he always does when you try to downplay your importance in the job you do. It’s like a script, these meetings of yours, always under the excuse of responsibility until it’s not– until the conversation flows into what Sam has been aching for since the last time he saw you.

You roll your eyes like he knew you would. You’ve been an Avenger since before they had the name for it, so if anyone deserves the semi-retirement, Sam concedes, it’s gotta be you. He won’t pretend it won’t be a big hit when you choose to walk away completely, though. Whether that’s to the business or Sam’s life, well. That’s another conversation.

He misses you. It’s hardly a crime.

“And they’ve still got us doing intel like we’re rookies,” you shrug, lessening your significance anyway. As if you weren’t up there in the cosmos chasing after freaking Thanos, but Sam won’t argue with you about this. You already spend so little time together to waste it building conflicts between you.

“Please,” Sam’s a professional, so he doesn’t make a bitchface and say girl with disbelief coating his tone, but judging from the amusement that glints in your eyes, you read through the lines with ease. “Like we’d let the children anywhere near this.”

“Okay, Dad,” you snort. “How are Torres and Barnes anyway?”

“The kid and his grandpa are fine,” he goes for annoyed but his grin is boyish and unrestrained. “Jealous they weren’t authorized to drop by. This is practically a vacation, you know.”

You shake your head, but all in good fun. “If your bosses have you thinking that then you desperately need some real downtime.”

“This is as close as it gets, these days.”

Torres had flown him all the way to Switzerland just so Sam could go and spend a few weeks in a rustic, semi-abandoned town on the outskirts of the city where an old SHIELD safehouse still stood against all odds.

Why he had to go to the other side of the world for some intel, he asked and got no answer. Now it comes to mind how he has no idea where you– his contact– have been stationed lately nor what kind of work you’ve been pulling for whoever it is you answer to these days.

You don’t tell him about it, and he’s quit on trying to ask. Whether it’s because you don’t think he’ll approve of what you’re doing or because it’s strictly classified, Sam doesn’t know.

“Blink twice if they’re holding you hostage,” you say in all seriousness, and he peels his eyes at you without blinking, getting close to your face. You laugh, pushing him away. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re one with the nation. Let me show you these files and see what Mr. America makes of ‘em.”

The physical files you actually bring with you are minimal, and most of the data you’ve been ordered to skim through is kept in a USB you hand to Sam as soon as the coffee has kicked in. Neither of you are exactly sure what it is you’re looking for so you’re stuck in the studio of the tiny, look-at-me-wrong-and-I’ll-crumble safe house for over three whole days before you finally start gathering some worthy intel.

“I was told we’d known when we found it,” you shrug, not visibly bothered by the fact that you’ve most likely been sent on a wild goose chase. “Or if we didn’t. We might go back empty-handed after all.”

It’s not encouraging but it’s what you’ve got, even if Sam isn’t sure he’s able to be out of commission for that long. He’s realized people get antsy when Captain America isn’t seen somewhere in the world after a few days, but despite how hard he tries he’s not able to be in two places at once.

“Yet,” he tells you when you take a food break and you allow him to rant about these troubles. “Haven’t figured it out yet, but Steve kind of managed it after a few years, right?”

“Steve was superhuman,” you remind him helpfully behind your coffee cup. You’d found some old whiskey at the back of a cabinet and doused your drink with it, so you make a face when it goes down.

“You don’t think I’m super?”

“I think you’re something, alright.”

“Aw. That was almost a compliment.”

“Can’t let it get to your head, hotshot. Ego’s already too big for your body.”

It’s so fucking domestic Sam feels the ache of it in his teeth. You, sitting at the table in your tiny kitchen while he sits on the counter, each drinking your coffee how you like it as the sun sets through the window above the sink. Talking for hours until you realize you’re practically sitting in the dark as the afternoon flew by while you were taken with each other’s company.

But then you go back to looking at intel until your eyes are burning and you excuse yourself to pass out on the couch. You do it almost half an hour to the dot before Sam gives up himself, and he’s pretty sure you know enough of his tells to know when he’s getting tired and make an early escape so he doesn’t take the couch himself.

“You take the bed,” he’d offered the first night, having a little trouble not making it sound like an order. By how you’d raised your eyebrow, he’d failed by a mile. “God knows where you’re sleeping these days. It’s the least I can do after dragging you all the way out here.”

“You’re the one who keeps saying he’s on vacation,” you take your bags from his hands and drop them unceremoniously on the coffee table, marking the living room territory as yours. “And I’m sure the US government will kill me if I bring you back with a fucked up back.”

He almost suggested you could share. You have before, both out of necessity and leisure, but Sam’s sure that topic’s on the list of Things Not To Talk To You About. It might be the first one up there, in all caps and underlined with bright red.

Sam has both held you down to fuck your brains out and held your bleeding body in his hands, pressing against a gunshot wound to keep blood flow to a minimum. It’s a fucked up type of intimacy he doesn’t share with anyone else, but he’s still hesitant to bring it up. Somehow both events keep happening whether he intends for them or not.

It’s like he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, and it finally does on the fifth day of your assignment.

You ultimately get a lead from the USB. It guides you to search for a random code you insist it’s on a file you’d read through already. You make a noise of victory under your breath when you spot it across the table and when you shift to reach for it, your breath hitches.

It’s a quiet thing Sam wouldn’t be able to acknowledge if he weren’t good at his job, but he is.

“What is it?” he asks, suddenly alert, fingers twitching with the urge to hover over you worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. Whatever shadow of hesitance had fallen over you is pulled back into place, tucked away for Sam to blissfully ignore.

You both know that shit won’t fly, but Sam thinks it’s cute you try anyway.

He stares at you and you avoid his eye long enough, face buried in the file, to know you know he’s noticed. It’s a silent request to let it pass.

Tough fucking luck. Sam calls your name, admonishing.

“Sam,” you say right back at him in the same tone, still not looking at him. Sam grinds his teeth in annoyance, jaw tight.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. You know how it is.”

It’s not a no.

“I do know,” Sam agrees, but his mood’s a short fuse. “Are you grounded? Is that why you’re here? Because you’re hurt?”

Fucking jackpot. You exhale through your nose and tighten your jaw at the question but refuse to answer. You’re a couple of feet apart, divided by the desk filled with files and information, but somehow this is the closest he’s felt to you since you got here.

You’d been hiding something since the beginning; taking the couch when you could’ve been sharing the bed from the start, touching him less than usual so things wouldn’t go further, and moving around the house with rigid, calculated movements.

“Manning the desk,” he says with a little too much bite, and he can physically watch your hackles rise; the annoyance in your eyes when they finally meet his, the biting of your cheek to stop yourself from rising to his sudden passive-aggressive hostility. “Handing me files, giving me intel. You’re flying halfway across the world to keep yourself out of the field.”

“Sam,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You’re hurt,” he replies, not a question, nodding at your torso. It’s all suddenly painstakingly clear, the past week flashing through his mind like a movie from a different point of view. “And you’re hiding it from me, for some reason.”

“Is that all, Captain?” you ask, creating distance with the use of his new title in a way he despises and you know he does. You’re good at that, finding where it hurts and pressing methodically until the skin gives. Sam’s just not used to the trick being used on him. “Or is there something else about my person that you’ve figured out and have yet to enlighten me about?”

“Let me see,” he ignores you. It's easier than trying to match your level of cruel cleverness. He stands to cross over to your side of the desk, staring down at you expectantly with arms crossed. “Come on, show me.”

“No,” you deadpan, but the way you wrap your arms carefully around yourself shows the defensiveness underneath your nonchalance. “Sam, come on, what the hell are you doing?”

“If you’re not hurt, then show me,” he insists but doesn’t reach to touch you without your permission. It’s a line he won’t cross.

“Is that an order, sir?” you snap.

“I’m not your superior,” he replies, even though he is, technically, but not when you’re alone. Not when you’re hurt. “I’m your friend. And right now my friend is in pain, I’d like to be able to do something about it.”

“Like what?” you ask, and it’s as exhausted as it is conflictive. Thunder rumbles outside the house and inside Sam’s chest, two storms coming in. “Huh, Sam? What are you gonna do? It’s part of the damned job. Don’t tell me you’re injury-free right now.”

Sam isn’t. Both old and newer scars put a heaviness on his body he’s not supposed to carry, but he’s not the one hiding right now.

“I can hold you,” he offers and watches the way you look away, imagining the sting in your eyes as they glisten with sudden tears. You very visibly refuse to shed them, tightening your jaw and passing saliva like it’s gravel. “If you’d let me. Let’s not pretend we haven’t done it before.”

“It’s different now.”

“Why?” he wonders, brow furrowing. He does his best to relax his stance and reaches to touch your tight fists where they lay on your lap. With his fingertips barely there on your skin, the tension bleeds out of them like magic almost against your will. “Because I’m Captain America? Because you won’t tell me where you’re stationed half the time?”

“It’s–”

“Classified,” he finishes for you, unmoved. “But you’re still you, and I’m still me. As far as I’m aware, that doesn’t change a damned thing.”

You close your eyes like the words pain you, resolve crumbling right before Sam’s eyes. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

“Then don’t,” from Sam’s perspective, it’s as simple as that. “Let me see. Let me be with you, please. The last week has been torture.”

You let out a breath of a laugh that’s a little too miserable. “You’re telling me,” you say, and the slope of your shoulders falls from its tense, defensive curve. Sam takes it as the green light it is.

You stand straighter as he kneels in front of you, his hands hovering over the hem of your shirt. He looks to you for permission and you give him a tight nod, staring at the wall instead of him, gulping down your anxieties.

Sam’s breath catches when he lifts your shirt and sees your torso, skin showered in black, blue, purple, and green bruises. “Jesus.”

“It’s worse than it looks,” you say automatically. Sam can’t see how that’s true. It looks like it hurts to even breathe, it’s unbelievable how you were able to hide it from him for so long. “Nothing’s broken, I swear.”

“What the hell happened?” he asks even if he knows you can’t– or won’t– answer. You sigh, and he watches blemished skin shake with the effort it takes.

“I’m alright,” you say instead of the answer he wants, but your voice has softened and lost all fight response. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve been with him since you arrived and it has nothing to do with showing your skin. “Hey, I’m okay. That assignment’s over for good. I’m not going back there, I promise.”

The sigh of relief Sam lets out is shaky and doesn’t relinquish all the tension he’s been carrying. The possibilities of what must’ve happened are gonna haunt him long after this mission’s over.

“I hate it,” he says, and he knows you know what he means. Not knowing where you are, spending more than half the year apart with zero contact, this unease between you that doesn’t let you be honest.

You say, tired. “I know. Sam–”

Sam isn’t touching you– not yet. He’s careful so there’s no skin-to-skin contact, and you look at him with guarded eyes when he lowers your shirt back into place, standing up and towering over you.

“What?”

You breathe air out of your nose, frustrated. “You know.”

A beat. “You sure?” he says, as plainly as he can with the tension that’s grown between you pulling him forward.

“Yes.”

He hums.

“Oh. You gonna let me touch you now, then?” he asks, still under the excuse of medical purposes only. But Sam can’t help the way his voice deepens, molten like honey. His eyes trail over skin that isn’t blemished: the curve of your neck, the lines of your arms, the slope of your fingers.

You shiver under the attention, helpless to hide such a reaction to his voice. “Mmm? Honey?”

“Fuck you,” you say automatically, already opening your legs slightly for Sam to slip in between them, reaching for your jaw. You close your eyes at the touch, sighing away whatever tension remained in you.

You’re too fucking easy, despite the fight you insisted on going through before letting yourself be touched, and something in Sam’s belly tightens at the idea of it being just for him.

Sam’s hands remain on your jaw and throat as he tilts your head up for a kiss, slow and deep, lingering. It’s not long before you open up for him, his tongue sliding into your mouth like it was always meant to be there, coaxing a whine from you while you search for steadiness and settle your hands on his belt. Not pulling, not searching for more– not yet– but keeping him close.

The storm comes and goes and the files in the studio remain forgotten. Sam finally gets you on the bed and, better yet, with him in it.

He’s a little too careful, hands cupping your ribs with extreme caution after finally getting rid of your shirt for good and laying you down against the sheets. You roll your eyes fondly and grab onto his wrists to direct him where you want him.

He doesn’t complain as he takes your directions. The man will greedily take anything you give him in calloused, expert hands as he does his best to pull sounds out of you that are music to his ears.

After it’s over, you both lay in bed, naked and breathless. You find a new scar on him and trace the ragged line of skin gently with your fingertip, touch featherlight, almost nonexistent. It’s been over half a year since you last did this, but only a couple of months since he got himself injured and stitched up by Bucky in the Brazilian jungle. “This one’s new.”

It had been a quick job, good enough considering the circumstances, which is to say Sam now has an ugly, uneven scar a couple of inches above his hipbone that saved him from bleeding out on his partner.

The memory holds no gentleness, but your fingers do. The haze of his previous orgasm leaves Sam pliant under your touch, melted against the sheets and uncaring of your scrutiny. “Barnes?”

Sam makes an affirmative noise, a valid enough question since sometimes he’s admitted to doing patchwork on himself for the sake of the mission, uncaring of how bad it hurts as long as it’s quick and efficient.

“Did it hurt?”

“Like hell,” he admits, feeling safe enough to do so in the cocoon you’ve built for yourselves. Sam runs a hand up and down your naked back as if trying to soothe the brunt of the memory. “Did the job, though. Got us out alive.”

At that, you lean to kiss the skin, only slipping a bit of tongue into it. Sam sighs, ignoring the prick of discomfort that’s trying to crawl up his spine and leaning towards the softer, more tender sentiment that takes over him whenever you get like this. It’s not easy for him to accept such gentleness, to let himself be cared for and lay there, unable to give something back.

He will, in a minute. But he knows you like him like this, and that alone pins him down in his place to let you work. It’d be hypocritical of him, he thinks as his hips twitch with renowned interest, to not let you fret after him when his own worry is what got you here in the first place.

After you’re satisfied, you trail the path Sam’s grown accustomed to, the very same you follow every time you sleep together after a terribly long amount of time:

The knife scar under his pec from when they were chasing after Bucky, still the Winter Solider, superficial enough not to have caused concern at the time. The mark from when he got his appendix out, thinking nothing of the stabbing aches to his belly until he was doubling over in his bed and waking up half his platoon as he retched in the bathroom.

The dot on his finger where Riley accidentally stabbed him with a pencil once, sleep deprived and with two shots of whiskey on him. The wound had healed with ease but the mark made a permanent home on his skin, barely visible unless you leaned in close enough to look for it.

The scab on his knee from falling off his bike when he was six. Sarah had screeched bloody murder until their parents came out of the house to see what all the fuss was about. The scar left behind by a bullet on his right shoulder during his second tour in Afghanistan.

The cut on his lip he got shaving for the first time is always last on your list. Sam has long stopped calling you out on it, how convenient it was that the cataloging of his scars always ended with a thorough, slow kiss to his mouth that usually bloomed into a second round.

He found that you got skittish when he did so, pulling back into yourself and laying tensely in bed for a couple more minutes before you started looking around for your clothes, called out.

Now Sam only cups your jaw, tugs a little so it opens your mouth and he can slip in his tongue and steal a taste of your sigh. He wants you like this for as long as possible; vulnerable, unguarded, desperate to touch him and be touched back. Safe enough to know that you never have to ask for something he wants to give you so willingly.

You always forget. The second you meet again, you have to start the whole dance over. Fish for excuses to meet each other in the middle, hoping for new scars to lengthen your time together.

Sam isn’t a masochist by any means, and he’s not an adrenaline junkie asshat who chases the danger just to have proof on his skin that he can take all the grievances life throws at him.

But. But–

“We’re alright,” you say against his mouth, body warm and seeking on top of his. He’s mindful of your injuries but can’t help himself, the urge to touch you overrules any other instinct he owns. It makes him weak, on the field, but happy off of it. “Aren’t we? We’re gonna be alright.”

“‘Course we are, honey,” his southern charm pops out and you’re both parts equally pleased and unamused, a funny expression on your face that has him laughing as he cups the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss. “What? What’s with the face?”

“Nothin’, pumpkin,” you imitate his accent and Sam focuses his ministrations on your jaw and neck, trying to get you to break character. “We’re gonna be just fine, sugar plum. You’re sure lookin’ very pretty tonight, peach fuzz.”

Sam splutters out a laugh. “Peach fuzz?”

“That’s what you sound like!”

“See if I ever call you something nice ever again.”

“You can’t resist me,” you say seriously, though a smile keeps trying to break your facade. “You literally lasted five days before taking me to bed. That’s on being weak, Wilson.”

“Some might say it’s a world record for me, baby,” he says, poking at your face until you show teeth, happy and at ease in his arms. “The six months before that were a little bit of a stretch, too.”

Your mood dampens a little but Sam won’t let it, nudging his nose against yours to catch your attention again. “Hey. What did I just say? We’re gonna be alright. Five days, six months, five years, it’s nothing. They mean shit when I get to see you again.”

The mention of the Snap unguards you further. He’d been gone while you tried to keep your life together, ignoring the Sam-shaped void in your surroundings. The first time you got together after he came back had been tainted by the grief of losing three of the best people you’d ever known, and he’d done his own reconnaissance of your skin as he took in new scars, new hurts that had happened and healed while he was gone.

You smile again, but it’s softer, fonder, a tender tilt of the lips for the man you managed to find in this chaotic line of work that became your whole life.

In another five days, you’ll once more be on opposite ends of the world without any idea of when you’ll see each other again or what new marks you’ll have on your skin that describe your time apart. You haven’t even put a name to this– this relationship that both of you are still too hesitant to define as such, but that’s okay.

It’s okay. It’s more than enough. The path of scars will be there to take when you meet again, permanent proof that you’ve survived to find the way to each other over and over and over again. The map that leads to you, every goddamn time.

___

hi!!!

hope you like this one! i’ve been putting this fic on the back burner for almost a month now, but i’m so glad to finally have finished it! i hope to put out the tommy miller sequel for dial drunk next week before school starts :)

thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, etc.!

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #anthony mackie #marvel fanfic #reader insert #captain america x reader #captain america and the winter soldier #catws #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #joaquin torres #danny ramirez #falcon x reader #leo writes #sarah wilson #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

96 notes · View notes

cyberdelph · 8 months

Text

by @happymodok

#sambucky #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #joaquin torres

78 notes · View notes

buckyytorres · 11 months

Text

HE'S SO CUTE I CAN'T

cr:danny ramirez brasil

#danny ramirez #joaquin torres #falcon #captain america the new world order #marvel

230 notes · View notes

eternalsams · 2 months

Text

appreciation post for Danny x polaroid type pictures

#Danny Ramirez #Danny boy #my boo #gimme that man #fanboy #mickey garcia #top gun #top gun maverick #marvel #mcu #joaquin torres #falcon

24 notes · View notes

blackbat05 · 9 months

Text

A shared bond

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: The festive season is around the corner and you’re determined to give your best customer an unforgettable Christmas.

Genre: PG-13 / Trope: Baking, Alone on the holidays

A/N: Another piece for @the-slumberparty🫶🏽 I hope I did this right but it was another challenge that pushed my writing cells and create a piece that is close to home. Thank you for letting me share my work and hope readers enjoy! Reblogs and comments are appreciated!💜

The alarm beeps, signaling the newest batch of baked goods. Satisfied with the smell of blueberry pie wafting through the kitchen, you leave the delicacy to cool down. You go back out to the counter, pleasantly surprised to see your usual customer already waiting at the door.

“Hello Joaquin! You’re early today.” You let him in. “The usual?”

“Yes please.” He takes a seat at the counter, nose wrinkling to detect the source of smell. “I see you have been cooking up a new recipe. Any chance I could get a taste?”

You sliced a blueberry pie onto a plate and serve it to him with a cup of coffee. “Lucky you, I was trying out something for the Christmas menu and you just happened to be my first customer!”

Joaquin takes a fork and sinks his teeth into the pie, groaning at the impeccable fruity taste that blended nicely with the crumbs. “This shouldn’t be just a seasonal menu.”

“Glad to know. Guess I had enough foresight to make a whole batch of them. Would you like one more?” You carried the tray out and for a moment you thought you saw Joaquin salivating.

“Does it mean I have to pay?”

“Well, this one’s on the house. I insist. In the spirit of Christmas.” You give a second serving to Joaquin before preparing for the morning crowd.

It was like a routine that the both of you were used to. While you attended to customers, Joaquin would busy himself with a book at the side along with his drink and your baked treats. As you helped a father and his young son with their purchase, you can’t help but to sneak a glance at Joaquin who had an unreadable expression. The bell chimes, signaling the pair’s exit.

“What’s on your mind?”

Joaquin sighs. “When I see families, I think about the ones that I’ve lost.” You pause what you were doing, giving him your full attention. “It’s hard when I think about them but it especially hurts during festive seasons. I guess that’s what happens when you’re alone.” Joaquin smiles wanly. “I’m sorry for being such a dampener.”

You frown and shake your head. From your many conversations with Joaquin, you knew he was from military and he had a story that was beyond reality. You don’t know how he does it but he comes to your cafe with a smile every single time. “Don’t say that. You’re the strongest person I know, Joaquin.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods, but you sense that he’s going further down the hole.

“What if I told you that you don’t have to be alone during Christmas?”

Joaquin stares at you curiously and you’re more than positive that this would work out perfectly.

***

“Goodbye Mrs Lelia!” You moved towards the door, the elderly women trailing behind you.

“Thank you for visiting my dear.” She kisses you on the cheek and does the same for Joaquin. “Come back again soon with those lovely goodies!”

“Will do Mrs Lelia. Happy holidays!” You carefully descend the snow covered steps, checking one more house off the list. Joaquin decides to break the silence first.

“I didn’t know you do this during Christmas.”

“I started not too long ago. Two years back.” You helpfully corrected him. “I wasn’t in a good place.” Joaquin stares at you intently.

“You know how you told me once that when you came back from your tour? There was always people around you and yet you still felt lonely?”

Joaquin nods at the memory. You purse your lips.

“I felt that too. In a different way of course.” You explained. “Being blipped right back and having to see constant doom scrolling and watching others flaunt their extravagant lifestyles while holding to the knowledge that I could be someone better… it ate me up inside. So I decided to kickstart this food drive. I can’t reach everybody but I can do enough.”

Joaquin falls silent at your simple but impactful admission. “We’re all fighting our own battles huh?”

“That’s all we can do.” You respond. “What better way than to help others in the name of Christmas?” You grin, holding up the bag of baked treats. “Come on, we can do this! Dinner’s on me.”

***

An hour later, you sit beside Joaquin at a Thai restaurant savoring on the much needed spicy Tom Yum soup.

“I can’t express how much it means to have you help me this year. It seems to me like the ladies love you.” You teased.

“If that means having this feast after every food drive, count me in.” Joaquin laughs, taking a bite of the lemon chicken. “But really, I should be the one that’s thanking you. You’ve helped me a lot.”

You suddenly have a warm rush of affection for the man who was a mere stranger eight months ago. Joaquin seems to have noticed the change in temperature as he’s unusually focused at the half eaten chicken on his plate.

“After the blip, it was hard to even talk to someone. And I mean, genuinely have a conversation. That is until I met you.” Joaquin looks at you under his curls. “You didn’t push me and you allowed me to take my time.”

Your heart beats faster and you can feel yourself attempting to control your breathing. A determined glint crosses Joaquin’s eyes and he steadily moves forward.

“I really like you, Y/N. Not because you took pity on me but you saw me as a person. I don’t know if you feel the same way but I-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you launch yourself onto Joaquin, giving him the biggest bear hug that you could. He freezes for a moment at the contact, but he doesn’t hesitate to lean into your embrace.

“I really like you too, Joaquin.” You whispered, slowly detaching yourself to look at him. “And trust me when I say this but you came into my life when I needed someone. So I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself. Not anymore. Not when I’m with you.”

Joaquin pauses, processing what you have just said and breaks out into a big grin.

“I don’t know if this is appropriate but I really want o kiss you right now.”

You giggle at his honesty and take out the last blueberry pie that you saved for desert. Carefully taking a bite, you purposely stained your lips with blueberry coating.

“There. Now you can wipe it off me.” You cheekily point at the creation on your lips. It’s Joaquin’s turn to laugh at your absurdity as he looks at you lovingly.

The snow starts to fall harder and the Christmas decorations shine brighter. Reunions bring along joy and happiness across the city and for today, people forget what the world has thrown at them as they laugh with their loved ones. You and Joaquin Torres were not an exception as the bond between the two of you only strengthened with the help of a Christmas miracle.

He is gentle, leaving your lips wanting more. Joaquin gazes at you and how you wished you drank a little less of the wine. The crowd thickens but it is only the two of you in the small and tiny space that you envision. You see his lips moving and you tilt your head in confusion. Joaquin moves closer and you hear it.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

He leans in again, and this time he is sure to leave you breathless.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #danny ramirez #the falcon and the winter soldier #navy and roo's sleepover #july 2023 #writing challenge

96 notes · View notes

why-i-love-comics · 10 months

Text

Captain America: Symbol of Truth #14 (2023)

written by Tochi Onyebuchi art by Ze Carlos, Jesus Aburtov, & Fer Sifuentes-Sujo

#captain america #falcon #sam wilson #joaquin torres #marvel #wednesday spoilers #spoilers #comic spoilers

76 notes · View notes

kanellebullar · 1 year

Text

Did you missed them ?

#art #kanellebullar #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #winterfalcon #buckysam #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sam wilson #captain america #sam wilson captain america #joaquin torres #falcon #fatws #falcon and the winter soldier #sam and bucky are his dads #boogie woogie woogie

248 notes · View notes

donottouchredbutton · 8 months

Text

Endlessly Falling

joaquin torres x sunshine!reader/ofc

3k words

she was falling, and there was only one person she trusted to catch her.

set in the same universe as this fic

warnings: angst, fear, canon-typical violence but i think it's pretty vague, reader/ofc has a fear of heights, idk let me know if i'm missing anything

note: idk if this is any good, i wrote it in like four hours unedited while i was trying to distract myself from burnout from work. feedback is always welcome :) also let me know if you notice anything familiar about sunshine's backstory... idk maybe there's something there, maybe there's not. let me know what you think!

She was running for her life. Again. She was really getting tired of this shit.

She remembered a few weeks ago when the worst thing she had to worry about was getting her essays turned in on time, emailing her professors, and working on her thesis, back when she was just a grad student. Since meeting Joaquin, she found herself in trouble a lot more than she ever expected to be.

That wasn’t to say this was the first time she’s ever had to run for her life, or that meeting Joaquin was the start of her getting into trouble. Or that meeting Joaquin was her first time helping a superhero. No, she had plenty of experience with this sort of thing. She remembered when she was a teenager the few (multiple) times when her dad’s work followed him home (literally) and having to hide or having to flee her own home just so he could take care of it. Terrifying as it was, she had learned to be good at finding the best hiding spots on the fly. And she still remembered when she was nineteen being trapped in a cage with a monster (who, to be fair, was her dad, but we won’t go into the specifics this time), with the intention of being mauled to death alongside a woman she barely knew. And just a year later, having to travel halfway across the world to help a superhero with identity issues to stop a cult and rescue her dad from said cult (her dad had a bad habit of getting himself into trouble, but he would always tell her that her uncle was even worse).

Yeah. This wasn’t her first rodeo. And she was positive it wouldn’t be her last, either.

But she sure as hell didn’t miss having to do this.

Sam and Joaquin had both understood and agreed initially that they needed her help if they were going to stop this underground terrorist group. Bucky had been on the fence about it at first, thinking her too nice and innocent to get involved, but once she had proved herself in a fight the first time he had realized he had jumped the gun on judging her. She was a formidable opponent while still being able to maintain her happy nature and her positive, love-for-life attitude.

Which was why she found herself in this position for the first time in years. She hadn’t meant to cause a distraction, she had just been sent by the men on a reconnaissance mission to one of their underground meetings while the three of them tried to take out their base of operations nearby. Even to her, the meeting was much bigger than she had been expecting, and the sound of the men updating her on their progress through her earpiece was only confirmation: they were a much bigger threat than they had initially believed. She had been listening to one of the leaders of the group as he slowly but surely began riling everyone up, his voice raising as he spoke to them about forcing order to the world and subjecting the people who had no care for them. He was nearly shouting at that point, and it was honestly beginning to frighten her. She was so ensnared by his words that the sound of Sam yelling through the earpiece completely threw her off her guard.

“GET DOWN! IT’S A TRAP!”

The sound of gunshots on the other end of her earpiece caused her to gasp in fear, which caused her to slap her hand over her mouth in dread. She was scared for her friends, but she was also terrified at the sudden silence that happened in the room next to her after she did so. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as what was surely only a few seconds felt like years as she awaited what would happen. She didn’t dare breathe as she waited, her back pressed against the wall to make herself as small as possible.

“Someone’s here with us. Take care of it.”

The leader’s words were just loud enough for her to hear, but it was more than enough to set her off at a sprint to get out of there.

She had been running for what had felt like forever when she finally thought to check in with the others to make sure they were okay, and to find out what the hell happened.

“What the hell happened?” she shouted through the earpiece.

“They knew we were coming! It was a setup!” Sam shouted back. He and Bucky were fighting off terrorists left and right as they themselves tried to get out of the base. Their initial plan had been to find the leaders at the base and to either a) reason with them and get them to come willingly (Sam’s idea) or b) stop them by any means necessary (Bucky’s idea), but the three men had been met with nearly an entire army once they got there like they knew they were coming. The place had been booby trapped of all things, tipping the group off so that they opened fire seconds later. They all knew that if they were in trouble, she would be too. “Get outta there, now!”

“I’m trying!”

And she was. Unfortunately for her, the place was a maze, and with about ten angry men chasing after her, it was hard for her to focus on where all of the hallways led to rather than just trying to get away from them. Her fear was making it hard to think, and luckily it was making it hard to think about the fear itself. She just needed to get away.

The sound of Joaquin’s voice in her ear immediately began to uncloud her mind. “Find a way to go up! Stairs, ladder, window, anything! I’ll come find you!”

She wasn’t able to think about how he would be able to do so, but she listened to him anyway. She trusted him enough to believe he was telling the truth.

Truthfully, Joaquin didn’t know if he was. He had split from Sam and Bucky once they had opened fire, Sam telling him to fly out of there to find their superior and tell them all they had learned about the group. He often thought about what it would be like to jump out as Falcon, but he wasn’t exactly able to reflect on those expectations when he was in the middle of a life or death situation. He thought once he did so that he was in the clear, but there had been a couple of helicopters right outside waiting for him. So, they had air support. Of fucking course they did.

Joaquin was sure that their superior would get an earful from Sam once they were finally on the clear (if they ever got to that point). He was doing his best to take out the people shooting at him from the helicopters, making sure they stayed focused on him so they wouldn’t start shooting elsewhere, but the entire time his focus was elsewhere. He couldn’t keep his mind off of her, and he was riddled with guilt.

Joaquin was the one who had fought so hard to convince Sam and Bucky that she could help them on this mission. While they had both known she could handle herself, they were hesitant to let her go into the field with them, especially on a mission like this. She would have to get about as close as she physically could to this terrorist group without them finding out she was there, and they weren’t willing to risk her getting hurt or worse if something went wrong. It was the last thing Joaquin ever wanted, but he saw how hard she fought to convince them. He saw her conviction and determination, and more than anything, he saw that she truly cared. She just wanted to help, and Joaquin knew that. She was running for her life right now because he was the one to convince them to let her help.

She was in danger because of him.

He was right about her needing to find a way up. She had found a door that led her to a staircase all the way up to the roof. She took a quick glance over her shoulder to see how close the men were, finding them far away enough for her to be able to lock the door behind her. If she wasn’t running for her life, she would’ve thought about how it definitely seemed like a safety issue for the door to even have a lock, but she was more concerned about buying herself at least a minute or two to get to the top. She didn’t look back again after she locked the door and began to race up the stairs, not until she heard the sound of a gunshot blowing the door open. The information that they did have guns with them scared her more than she thought it would. They liked the chase, and they didn’t want the end to be quick if they did catch her. The thought made her blood run cold, and a new wave of adrenaline filled her as she continued to run.

Once she reached the roof, once again locking the door behind her to buy herself some time, she looked out to try to find Joaquin anywhere nearby, but he was nowhere to be found. She braced herself as she looked over the edge of the building she was on, and the realization of just how far up she was was quick to set in. She hadn’t realized how long the staircase was nor how far up she had run, but the sight of the city what looked like miles beneath her caused her heart to beat faster for a completely different reason. She could handle most things—monsters, cults, running for her life. Heights weren’t one of those things.

“Joaquin,” she said. She tried to steady the tremble in her voice, trying to control her breathing.

“I’m on my way!” he shouted back, trying to dodge the helicopter that was currently shooting at him. He was not on his way, but he needed to be soon if he wanted any chance of getting to her in time.

The sound of the men chasing her banging on the door to the roof made her jolt, dread filling her veins like venom. They were throwing themselves against the door to get it open. Unsuccessfully, sure, but the knowledge that they had the means to get the door open with their weapons made her believe that this was just a sadistic scare tactic. The thought made her sick.

“Joaquin,” she warned. She was unable to hide the fear she felt from her voice. Even she could hear her voice shake.

So could Joaquin, and he knew they were both running out of time. Taking out the pilot in the final helicopter, he set the thrusters of his wings to full power before jetting off to where she was.

“I’m on my way!” he shouted once again, but he knew that he wouldn’t be there in enough time. Thinking fast, he added, “You’re gonna have to jump!”

Her stomach dropped at the thought. “I can’t,” she whispered. But she knew she was running out of options. The men chasing her would get tired of playing with her, and in seconds they would be out there with her. She’d have nowhere else to go. Her hands were already shaking as the reality of what she had to do was setting in.

And she was right. The sound of the door to the roof being blown open made her jump, and the sight of the men closing in on her filled her with a fear she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“JOAQUIN!”

“JUMP!”

She didn’t think. She ran to the edge of the building and jumped, right before they could grab her.

She’s fallen before. She’s fallen out of tall trees when she was little, her dad constantly scolding her for climbing trees when she knew she might fall, but that’s why she always did it—to get better at climbing without falling. She’s jumped off of high platforms, trying to get down from where she was to try to help someone who needed it. She’s been thrown off of the side of a building before, but even then that was done when she was unconscious. This was something different. Being in free fall for so long, that sinking feeling in her gut never leaving but slowly getting worse as she seemed to fall closer to the ground in slow motion. The air whipped at her as if punishing her for jumping, her fear only growing as it felt like she would be endlessly falling.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think to breathe. She couldn’t think, her mind somewhere up in the clouds that she seemed to remember falling through when she jumped. Her eyes were dripping with tears she couldn’t stop as the cool air burned them as she went. Another punishment, she thought. The air was thin, too, choking her up even more. She couldn’t find her voice, though if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to think about calling for Joaquin again. She couldn’t think about whether he would catch her in time. She just had to continue falling.

Joaquin’s heart raced as he did, his sights set on her as he flew to catch her. He could hear the fear in her voice when she said she couldn’t jump, it had been clear as day to him that she was afraid to. He hadn’t wanted to make her do it, but he knew she had to. And he knew he would rather die than let her hit the ground. He wouldn’t let her get hurt again. He would make sure of it.

When he was finally close enough, his arms reaching for her, Joaquin felt time stop. He couldn’t think. The only thing he could focus on as he reached for her was her eyes. Those eyes he had seen could hold such light and happiness as he had come to know her, those same eyes that were squeezed shut from fear and wet with tears he knew she couldn’t stop. Once he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, never daring to let go.

Once she felt him surrounding her, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, aware enough to not choke him but clutching onto him like her life depended on it, because it did. There was nothing that would get her to let go. And now that he was holding her, she could finally feel herself breathe again.

They were both silent as he flew them away from the building, away from all of the bad men who wished them harm, away from where she felt for a moment she was falling to her death. The pit in her stomach from falling was gone, replaced with something else she couldn’t place. She still felt sick feeling her insides shaken so much, but it wasn’t just that. She felt a pull inside her, not in her stomach but maybe in her chest. She couldn’t know for sure, still barely able to think or process what was going on. The only thing she knew for sure at that moment was that she felt well and truly safe wrapped up in Joaquin’s arms.

Joaquin finally landed them on the roof of another building, much much shorter than the one she had jumped from and miles away. With the way she was clutching onto his back, he knew she could use a moment to stand on her own two legs and catch her breath. Once his feet touched the ground, he slowly eased her down as well, taking care to handle her gently for fear of causing her any more grief. His arms didn’t leave her even as she got her footing, nor did they when she leaned heavily against him once she was standing. She was still gripping him for dear life, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He was sure he was holding her in a similar way.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a few minutes. He always made sure that she was, and if she wasn’t, he always did what he could to help.

“…Yeah,” she answered slowly, barely audible if it weren’t for her mouth being so close to his ear. “Just… need a minute.”

Joaquin knew that they didn’t have a minute. He should’ve already been with his superior by now, finishing up with the debrief as they waited for Sam and Bucky to return as well. But he wasn’t concerned with any of that right now. The only thing he cared about was the woman in his arms, shaking like a leaf as she tried to calm down. For her, he would make the time.

He readjusted his arms around her so that he was hugging her instead, one arm around her waist while the other came up to her shoulders, his hand holding her head against him and stroking her hair. He tried to steady his breathing in a way that she could follow, willing his own heart rate to slow down as he tried to help her calm down.

She wasn’t the only one who had felt like they were endlessly falling. The only difference was, his had been slow and steady, hardly noticing it was happening until it hit him all at once. And he knew he would fall again and again if it meant getting to hold her like this.

#joaquin torres #joaquín torres #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #joaquín torres imagine #joaquín torres x ofc #joaquin torres x ofc #danny ramirez #tfatws #tfatws fic #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel oc #marvel reader insert #tfatws fanfic

69 notes · View notes