#mcu joaquin torres

[andy-15-07]

Hi! Would it be okay to ask for Joaquin Torres and some comfort for reader having a rough time visiting her parents? Perhaps she comes home a little deflated from things they say and Joaquins there to cheer her up? Feel free to ignore if your not comfortable! Thanks! <3

Hold You Here

PAIRING: Joaquin Torres x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 1208 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way — I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

You didn’t even bother turning the hallway light on when you stepped inside, you just kicked your shoes off by the door and let your bag drop with a dull thud onto the floorboards. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the TV in the living room, the faint smell of microwave popcorn drifting through the air.

You’d planned to text him that you were coming back early, but then the fight with your mom, the barbed comments that lingered long after you’d shut the door behind you, had driven every bit of polite forethought out of your mind. You just wanted to crawl into bed. Or the floor. Maybe both.

You were halfway to your room when you heard him.

“Hey, trouble.”

His voice drifted from the couch , warm, familiar, soft enough that you nearly dissolved right there in the hallway. You turned to find Joaquin Torres, barefoot, sweats hanging low on his hips, blanket thrown over his shoulders like a cape. He sat half-buried under pillows, your favorite mug balanced on the coffee table beside him. He must’ve seen your face because the easy grin he wore flickered right into something softer. Concern, stitched across his warm brown eyes.

“You’re back early,” he said carefully. He sat forward, pushing the blanket off his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

You opened your mouth, but the words jammed up in your throat. You just shrugged, your lips pressing into a tight line.

“Ah,” he murmured. He stood and crossed the few steps to you, warm hands finding your arms. “Come here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, no questions asked. Just like that. The hug knocked the last of your resolve loose, you sank against his chest, pressing your forehead to his collarbone, breathing him in. He smelled like fresh laundry and popcorn butter, the soft warmth of your shared couch.

He didn’t push. Didn’t ask. Just rubbed his palm up and down your back, slow and steady.

“Bad time?” he asked, his voice rumbling through your ear.

You managed a small nod against his T-shirt. “Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Another nod , smaller. But your voice caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat.

He pulled back just enough to tip your chin up with his knuckle. “Hey. It’s okay. Come on. Couch, yeah?”

You let him steer you to the sofa. He nudged you to sit, then tucked the blanket around your shoulders like he was building you your own soft fortress. He pressed the mug into your hands , it was chamomile tea, still warm. The same thing he always made when your brain needed unwinding.

You curled into the corner, knees pulled to your chest. He sat down beside you, turned half-toward you so his knee pressed warm against yours.

“Okay.” He kept his voice soft, like you were something breakable, but not in the way your parents made you feel. “Start slow, cariño. What happened?”

You traced a finger along the rim of the mug, staring at the swirl of steam. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey.” He nudged your knee with his. “Not to me, it’s not.”

You sighed, breath hitching a little. “They just— they always do this thing. Where they ask about… everything. Work. If I’m making enough. If I’m settled. If I’m sure I don’t want to move back. If I’m— if I’m sure about you.”

Your voice cracked on that last bit. You hated that. Hated that the soft, protective look on his face made your eyes sting.

“Oh, cariño,” he breathed, already shaking his head.

“It’s like—” You set the mug down, hands shaking just enough to make you nervous. “They don’t even hear me when I say I’m happy. Or that I’m trying. Or that I love you. They just… pick it all apart. Like if they find the crack, they’ll win.”

Joaquin leaned in, his hand sliding over yours, thumb brushing your knuckles in a lazy, grounding circle.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured. “I know how they get to you.”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “I shouldn’t let it. I’m grown. I live here. I’m good. I have—” Your voice broke again. “I have you. And it’s good. But they make me feel like… I’m screwing it all up.”

“Hey.” He squeezed your hand. “Look at me.”

You did ,your eyes glassy, jaw clenched.

“You are not screwing it up,” he said firmly. “You are trying. You’re doing more than trying ,you’re doing great. You’re doing life. And you’re not alone in it, okay? You have me. And you always will.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swiped at it with the heel of your hand, frustrated. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” he said, voice warm but steady. “If it helps , they don’t know you like I do.”

Your laugh cracked through the tears. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He scooted closer, so close his knee pressed between yours, his hands cupping your face now, thumbs brushing your cheeks where the tears fell. “They don’t see you at 2 a.m. when you can’t sleep and you make me pancakes just because. They don’t see you dancing in the kitchen when you think I’m not watching. They don’t see how hard you work  or how soft you are with people who don’t deserve it. But I do.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words settle over you like another blanket.

He leaned in, pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re good, baby. You’re so good. They don’t get to tell you otherwise.”

You let out a shaky exhale. “What if I never make them happy?”

“Then screw it.” His lips brushed your temple. “I’m happy. And you’re happy. That’s enough.”

You cracked a smile, small, but real. “You’re so cheesy.”

“I’m not cheesy. I’m right.” He bumped his nose against yours. “You want me to go knock on their door? Give them a piece of my mind?”

A laugh broke out of you, sudden and bright. “Oh my god, no.”

He grinned, triumphant. “There’s my girl.”

He coaxed you under the blanket with him until you were practically in his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your cheek pressed to the warm plane of his chest. He tugged your hand to his lips every few minutes, kissing your knuckles absentmindedly.

You felt the tension drain out of you, piece by piece, word by word.

“I like this plan better,” you mumbled against his T-shirt.

“What plan?”

“Staying here. You. Couch. Tea. No parental lectures.”

He chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy shapes on your arm. “Yeah? Think you can stand me for the rest of the night?”

“Think I can stand you forever.”

He kissed your forehead, lingering there like a promise. “Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me.”

You tipped your head back to look at him, your nose brushing his jaw. “You sure about that?”

He met your eyes, warm and sure. “Always.”

And when you drifted off a little while later,your ear pressed to his heartbeat, the TV murmuring nonsense you weren’t really watching ,you believed it.

More than anything your parents could say. More than any doubt that tried to creep in.

You believed him.

You always would.

[pixiexdusts-world]

Nap time with you

Joaquin Torres x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Joaquin’s girlfriend can fall asleep anywhere, and instead of questioning it, he starts napping with her. Before long, it becomes their favorite routine.

Word count: 1012

Notes: no Captain America: Brave New World spoilers :)

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Joaquin Torres was used to high-energy situations. Missions, training, and keeping up with Sam Wilson meant he was always on the move. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for dating you.

Because somehow, despite all the chaos, you could fall asleep anywhere.

At first, he thought it was a one-time thing. The two of you had been hanging out at his place, watching a movie, when he felt your head slump against his shoulder. He glanced down, expecting you to be watching intently, but—nope. You were out cold.

“Hey,” he whispered, nudging you slightly. “Did you seriously just knock out?”

You let out a small sigh in response, nuzzling into his hoodie like it was the most comfortable pillow in the world. Joaquin blinked, staring at you, before laughing softly to himself.

Alright, maybe the movie was a little boring.

But then it kept happening.

You would doze off in the passenger seat of his car five minutes into a drive. You fell asleep on a rooftop once, mid-mission debrief, and nearly gave Sam a heart attack. You even curled up in a booth at a diner after breakfast, resting your head on your folded arms like it was the most natural thing to do.

Joaquin quickly realized: you could nap anywhere, anytime.

And, well… that was kind of adorable.

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One day, after a long week of missions, Joaquin found you sprawled across his couch, dead to the world. You had come over to hang out, but somewhere between waiting for him to get out of the shower and picking a movie, you had passed out completely.

Joaquin just stood there for a second, hands on his hips, watching the steady rise and fall of your breathing. He shook his head with a soft laugh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured.

Then, without really thinking about it, he grabbed a blanket, tossed it over you, and instead of waking you up—he joined you.

He had meant to just sit beside you, but when he felt how warm you were, the exhaustion from the past week caught up with him fast. The next thing he knew, he was lying down too, pulling you against him, his face buried in your hair.

And damn, this was comfortable.

Joaquin had never really been a nap guy. He always felt like there was something to do, somewhere to be. But being curled up with you, listening to your soft breathing, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest?

Yeah. He could get used to this.

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After that, it became a thing.

Joaquin stopped questioning it and just started joining you.

You crashed on the couch after training? He slid in beside you, pulling you close. You curled up in the Quinjet after a mission? He threw his jacket over both of you and knocked out too. You flopped onto his bed, stretching like a cat? Yeah, no, he was claiming his spot too.

“You know,” he said one afternoon as you both lay tangled together in his bed, “I think you’ve corrupted me.”

You blinked sleepily up at him. “Huh?”

“I never used to nap,” he admitted, running his fingers through your hair. “Now I’m out here dozing off at random times of the day because of you.”

You hummed, not at all guilty. “Not my fault you make a good nap buddy.”

Joaquin grinned. “Oh, nap buddy, huh? That’s all I am to you?”

“Mm.” You pretended to think about it. “And a pretty decent boyfriend, I guess.”

He let out a dramatic gasp. “Wow. So generous.”

You giggled, snuggling closer, your nose brushing against his collarbone. “Admit it—you love it.”

Joaquin sighed, kissing the top of your head. “Yeah. I really do.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

One evening, after a particularly long mission, Joaquin was the one who crashed first.

You found him sprawled across the couch, his arm draped over his face, still in his flight gear. His wings had been set aside, his boots lazily kicked off. He looked exhausted.

You should have woken him up, told him to change, maybe convinced him to eat something first.

Instead, you climbed right on top of him and curled up against his chest.

Joaquin made a small, sleepy noise of surprise but didn’t even open his eyes. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hand resting against the small of your back.

“Mmm… stealing my move,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Nap first. Talk later.”

He chuckled sleepily. “See? Corrupted me.”

But he didn’t complain.

He just held you tighter and let himself drift off, safe and warm in your arms.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

idea for joaquin:

i see alot of sushine x grumpy reader when ppl r writing joaquin fics but pls i need more sunshine x sunshine and its joaquin and reader being literal comedic geniuses on missions and flirting over comms 😫

"Ray Of Sunshine"

[Joaquin Torres x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: You and Joaquin are pains in Sam and Bucky's ass.

Warnings: Mild action violence, relentless flirting, and Sam Wilson contemplating a career change

Word Count: 831 words

A/N: I think we can all agree that bucky and sam are officially parents.

"We should get a team dog," you said, thinking out loud.

Three voices answered you at once through the comms. Two were a chorus of "NO!" The other, "YES!" You decided to focus on the latter.

"A small golden one…" you continued, ducking behind a concrete pillar as gunfire sprayed the warehouse wall behind you.

"We could name it Ray," Joaquin suggested. You could hear his grin.

"Ooh, like a Ray of sunshine!"

Sam's groan was so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of Bucky vaulting over a shipping container to your left. "Focus, both of you," Sam barked, his wings slicing through the air as he disarmed a guard. "We're in the middle of a mission!"

"And we are not getting a dog," Bucky added, firing at a henchman sprinting toward you.

"But imagine the morale boost!" you argued, popping up to toss a smoke grenade. The room flooded with gray haze, and you darted toward the server room, Joaquin's laughter in your ear.

"Picture it, Buck—little Ray, tiny vest, teeny goggles," Joaquin said. You could practically see him miming the dog's outfit with his hands, even though he was three rooms away, hacking into the security system. "He'd be the best at fetch. And espionage."

"Espionage?!" Bucky snapped. A grunt, a thud—probably him body-slamming someone into a wall. "It's a dog."

"Exactly! No one suspects the dog!" you chirped, sliding into the server room and slamming the door shut. "Quin, how's that hack coming?"

"Already in," Joaquin said, smug. "You're welcome."

"Show-off."

"Admit it, that's why you love me."

Your cheeks warmed.

"Less flirting, more focusing," Sam cut in. The Captain America voice dialled up to 'I'm two seconds from drowning you both in a lake.' "Torres, any alarms?"

"Nope. Smooth as butter. Also, you do love me, right sunshine?" He didn't need to ask, he already knew the answer.

You rolled your eyes, typing rapidly on the server's interface. "Keep dreaming, flyboy."

"Oh, I will. Vividly. With plot."

Bucky made a sound like a feral cat. "I'm begging you two to take this seriously."

"We are!" you and Joaquin said in unison, then burst into laughter.

The two of you had turned into an art form really: you'd crack a joke, he'd retort back, and somewhere between the banter and the bullets, the bad guys ended up in a pile, thoroughly confused about how they'd been beaten by a duo who argued about pizza toppings during a car chase.

"Got the files!" you announced, yanking the hard drive free.

"Great! Now get out before backup shows up," Joaquin said. "Also, duck."

You dropped to the floor just as a guard burst through the door, his weapon whirring over your head. Joaquin's voice turned sharp, all playfulness gone. "Three o'clock. Disarm and go."

You spun, sweeping the guard's legs out from under him and snatching his gun. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Now when do we get this dog?"

"NO DOG!" Sam and Bucky shouted in unison.

The second you spotted the scruffy golden retriever trotting through the lot on the way back to the quinjet, you froze. "Uh. Joaquin. Look."

He looked over to where you were pointing. "Is that…?"

"A literal ray of sunshine," you whispered, clutching your chest. The dog wagged its tail.

"No," Sam hissed.

"Yes," you and Joaquin breathed.

"Not a chance!" Bucky said.

But the dog padded toward you, cocking its head, and dropped a muddy stick at your boots. You gasped. "It's fate."

"Sam. SAM. They're adopting a street dog," Bucky deadpanned. "This is your problem now."

Joaquin scooped the retriever into his arms. "C'mon, Cap! Look at…his eyes. He's got the heart of a soldier!"

"Leave. The. Dog." Sam said.

"Too late!" you said cheerfully. "Ray's one of us now!"

By the time they got back to the quinjet, with the dog, Sam's eye twitch had reached apocalyptic levels. Bucky stared at the retriever, now sitting happily on your lap, and muttered, "If it pees on my gear, I'm shaving it bald."

Joaquin bounded down the jet's ramp, helmet off and hair adorably windblown. "He’s so cute, look at him!"

"He looks like a menace," Sam said, though the corner of his mouth quirked up as the dog lolled its tongue at him.

You scratched Ray's ears, batting your lashes at Sam. "C'mon, Cap. Every team needs a mascot. We'll train him! He can fetch grenades!"

"He'll fetch lawsuits," Bucky grumbled.

Joaquin plopped beside you, shoulder brushing yours. "Admit it. You love him."

Sam looked at the dog. At Bucky. At the two of you, grinning like idiots.

"...He's not getting a rank."

You and Joaquin whooped, high-fiving as Ray barked as if in victory.

"But he is writing the mission report," Bucky added, his amusement showing.

Joaquin leaned toward you, whispering, "Worth it."

"Next step: matching outfits," You whispered back.

His smile could've powered a city. "Already designing them."

[sunshine-lux]

Can I have Joaquin Torres with early 20s reader who's looks all shy and innocent but is actually chaotic and likes to make dark and/or sexual jokes?

And she also likes to say things without context

Bed Chem

summary: the four times you made Joaquin speechless and the one time he got you back!

pairings: Joaquin Torres x reader

warnings: like extremely suggestive lol, some mentions of death but nothing serious! maybe some light swearing?? f!reader

word count: 2.6k

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The afternoon sun bled through the tall windows of the base , painting lazy gold streaks across the hallway outside the briefing room. Sam leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching with a mounting sense of dread as Y/N clacked away at her laptop. She was sitting cross legged in a rolling chair, chewing bubblegum, wearing a cropped Princess Mononoke tee and baggy black jeans so shredded they looked like they'd survived a battle.

Sam sighed. Loudly.

“Alright. Listen,” he started, tone already warning. “Joaquin’s back today. Should be here any minute.”

Y/N hummed without looking up.

“So maybe just… be normal for five minutes?”

That got her attention. She spun her chair slowly toward him, resting her chin in her palm, the picture of mischief barely contained.

“Define normal,” she said.

“Like… not saying anything that could get me sued. Or arrested. Or both.”

She grinned like that was the most boring request anyone had ever made.

“Don’t worry, Cap. I’ll make a great impression.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t sound reassuring when you say it.”

Y/N stood, stretching with a little yawn, her shirt riding up enough to make Sam avert his eyes. She adjusted her pants casually and reached for her ID badge like she was prepping for a runway and not a classified military briefing.

Sam blinked. “Is that really what you’re wearing?”

“Yeah.” She glanced down at herself. “What about it?”

“It’s not exactly professional, Y/N.”

“Oh, totally. So you’re gonna give me money to go to Ann Taylor and buy some lame-ass blazer, right?”

“…No.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

She gave him a winning smile.

“Relax,” she said, swiping on a fresh coat of lip gloss. “Birdboy’s gonna love me. Everyone does.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “Just don’t freak him out.”

“No promises.”

The elevator dinged.

Both of them turned as the doors slid open. Joaquin walked in like a walking recruitment poster. Windblown hair, wings collapsed neatly behind him, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, fitted tactical shirt clinging to him. He was flushed from the mission, smiling like he wasn’t about to get annihilated by a girl in a crop top.

Y/N blinked.

“Oh no,” she muttered, voice low. “He’s hot.”

Then, without missing a beat, louder: “Captain, I can’t be held liable for my actions if this man breathes in my direction.”

Joaquin visibly froze.

Sam groaned like he’d just been shot.

“Joaquin, meet Y/N,” he said. “My assistant.”

Y/N stepped forward, hand extended.

Joaquin blinked hard. “Uh… hi. I’ve heard you’re very… efficient.”

“Oh, totally.” Her voice dropped into a teasing purr. “If you wanna see how efficient I am, just give me a call.” She laughed to herself, rolling her eyes. “Sorry. That was a joke.”

A beat. Then she added with a crooked little smile, “Kind of.”

Joaquin’s ears turned pink.

Y/N shook his hand firmly, eyes raking over him as she tilted her head.

“Wow. Big hands.” She turned back to Sam with a mock scolding tone. “You really should’ve warned me.”

Sam didn’t respond. He just turned and walked away.

Y/N watched him go, then leaned in close to Joaquin, lowering her voice like they were already in on a secret.

“So… wanna see how good I am at filing reports or do you wanna see what else I’m good at?”

Joaquin’s brain officially left the building. “...Sure.”

Y/N beamed. “Perfect answer, Birdboy.”

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The hallway outside the gym smelled faintly of floor cleaner and sweat.

Y/N walked briskly, a tablet tucked under one arm and a stack of folders nearly slipping out of her grip. She’d just finished organizing mission reports for Sam and was muttering under her breath about font sizes and outdated filing systems when the doors to the training wing swung open.

Out walked Joaquin.

His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends and sticking to his forehead. His shirt was off, slung casually over one shoulder. He was still flushed from training, chest rising and falling, skin glistening under the overhead lights like someone had lightly misted him in holy water. 

Y/N stopped walking. Dead in her tracks.

“Oh,” she whispered.

The folders dipped in her arms.

She blinked at him—sweaty, gorgeous, and completely oblivious to the devastation he was causing—and then muttered to herself, just loud enough:

“I must be God’s favorite.”

Joaquin slowed, towel in one hand, his expression shifting from tired to confused.

“Huh?”

Y/N tilted her head, eyes dragging down his chest and back up again. She exhaled through her nose like she was genuinely trying to keep her composure.

“You need to get away from me before I bite your biceps.”

There was a beat of silence.

Joaquin’s brain crashed.

“I—uh—what?”

She walked past him, biting back a grin, then turned over her shoulder.

“I said have a nice day, Mr. Falcon. You look very hydrated.”

Joaquin opened his mouth to respond. Nothing came out. He looked down at his own arm like he’d never seen it before like it had betrayed him somehow by existing in her line of sight.

Behind him, Y/N disappeared around the corner, tablet balanced effortlessly, still grinning.

He stood there in the hallway for a solid thirty seconds.

Then finally, to no one in particular–

“Did she just—? She did. She said—”

He exhaled.

“I’m gonna die here.”

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The office printer was testing her patience.

Y/N stood in front of it, sleeves rolled up, one hand on her hip and the other smacking the top of the machine like it owed her money. It had jammed on the final page of Sam’s mission brief, and now it was making a sad whirring noise that sounded almost like it was ready to give out on her.

“Don’t play with me,” she muttered, hitting the side again. “I will rip out your motherboard and smash it into pieces.”

She whacked it again, harder this time.

Joaquin walked by at that exact moment, towel slung around his neck from his afternoon run, and paused just in time to watch her body check the poor printer.

His laughter echoed down the hallway.

“Wow,” he called, grinning. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Y/N turned, frustration melting off her face, quickly replaced by charm. “That would only turn me on, babe.”

Joaquin blinked.

Hard.

His mouth opened like he had a comeback ready, some charming one liner about danger or her being a distraction but Y/N was already walking toward him, flipping through the half printed report like nothing had happened, her ponytail swinging.

“You were saying?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joaquin opened his mouth again. Then immediately closed it when she glanced down at his lips.

“I—uh—” he stammered, taking a step back as his brain tried to locate basic vocabulary.

Y/N smirked.

He turned away a little too quickly, brushing a hand through his hair like that might fix whatever the hell just happened to him.

And then he tripped.

Over absolutely nothing.

Y/N didn’t even try to hide her laugh as he caught himself against the wall, red blooming across his cheeks.

“You good there, Torres?” she asked sweetly.

He didn’t look back. Just kept walking, muttering something under his breath.

Y/N grinned and turned back to the printer, which had finally, wisely, resumed printing.

“See?” she told it. “Threats and violence works.”

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The celebration dinner was being held at one of those absurdly fancy restaurants Sam liked to pretend he didn’t enjoy. Everyone was dressed up—dress code enforced, security detail present, real silverware on the table. Y/N hated it already.

But she played along. Mostly.

For once, she wasn’t in her usual crop top and baggy lowrise jeans. She was in white. A silky, soft white slip dress that clung in all the right places and flowed like water when she walked. Her hair was pulled back with little pearl pins, her makeup glowy and minimal—highlight on her cheekbones, lashes curled, lips shiny. She looked like a dream. Like someone you only see once in passing and are never able to forget about.

And then she opened her mouth.

Joaquin was at the bottom of the stairs, standing next to Sam, fully mid sentence when he looked up and saw her.

And immediately forgot how to speak.

She stepped down one stair, then another, moving slow and deliberate, like she was aware of what she was doing to him.

Joaquin’s jaw dropped. Actually dropped. Sam saw it happen and muttered under his breath, “Oh, he’s gone.”

She was glowing. Like an angel. Like someone who’d never sworn in her life, someone who smelled like vanilla and sunshine and didn’t know what a war crime was.

Then she caught Joaquin’s eye, smiled sweetly and said, loud enough for only him and Sam to hear:

“Damn, you look good. If you bend me over in the bathroom later I won’t tell anyone.”

Sam choked on his champagne.

Joaquin’s soul left his body.

His jaw was still hanging open. He blinked like she’d hit him with a tranquilizer dart.

Y/N reached the last stair, grinning as she approached. “What?” she asked innocently. “Too much?”

Joaquin couldn’t find words. Couldn’t find oxygen. He looked her up and down—this glowing, radiant, ethereal menace—and his brain gave up.

“I—” he started, but that’s all he managed before she kissed him on the cheek and walked past him into the room like she hadn’t just made him forget his own name.

Sam put a hand on Joaquin’s shoulder, shaking his head slowly.

“You’re gonna die, man.”

“I already did,” Joaquin murmured, still staring at her. “I died and she’s the angel that dragged me to hell.”

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Dinner was winding down. Plates cleared, wine poured, and now a low, sultry beat played from the restaurant’s private sound system, coaxing people onto the small dance floor near the patio.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, swirling her wine, smug as ever. She was still glowing, the white silk of her dress catching every candle flicker like it had a spotlight of its own. She’d been floating around all night like she hadn’t completely fried Joaquin’s brain with only one sentence.

She hadn’t so much as looked his way since.

Which was why she jumped a little when Joaquin appeared beside her chair and offered his hand, calm and smooth and casual.

“Dance with me?” he asked.

Y/N raised a brow, lips curling. “Oh? You speak again?”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

Just leaned a little closer and said, low enough for only her to hear, “You’re gonna regret what you said if you say no.”

That—that—made her pause.

Because he wasn’t joking.

His voice was steady, his expression unreadable, and his fingers were still outstretched, waiting. His jaw looked a little too tight. His sleeves were rolled up just right. And that one stupid curl had fallen over his forehead again, like God was personally playing favorites.

Y/N set down her wine. Slid her hand into his.

“Try me.”

The moment they hit the dance floor, she knew she’d messed up.

Joaquin’s hand landed on her waist—not tentative or polite. Firm. Possessive. He pulled her in close, flush against him, and began to move with the music like he’d done this before. Like he’d been waiting.

Y/N blinked up at him, trying to play it cool. “You’re not usually this quiet, Birdboy.”

He didn’t respond.

He just spun her.

Caught her.

Dipped her, slow and smooth and close enough that her thigh brushed his.

And when he pulled her back upright, mouth just barely brushing her ear, he murmured:

“Still thinking about me bending you over in the bathroom?”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

He felt it.

“You know,” he murmured, still moving with the beat, “you talk a lot of game.” He leaned in, voice low, lips just barely brushing her ear. “But I’d love to see you put your money where your mouth is.”

Y/N made a sound that was definitely not a word.

Joaquin pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, smug, steady, and lethal. “What do you say, angel?”

Y/N pulled back slightly to look at him, jaw slack, eyes wide, completely, actually speechless for the second time in her life.

Joaquin smirked.

“Too much?” he echoed her from earlier.

Y/N swallowed hard. “I—I need to sit down.”

Joaquin chuckled low in his throat. “Nah. Dance isn’t over yet.”

And with that, he spun her again—cool, collected, deadly. While Y/N tried to remember how to breathe in silk and heels and shameless attraction.

Somewhere from across the room, Sam muttered into his drink, “If they hook up on government property, I’m filing for early retirement.”

Bucky raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”

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bonus!

Joaquin leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, gaze fixed.

“You ever stop working?”

Y/N didn’t look up from the tablet in her hand. “You ever stop staring?”

He laughed, stepping into the room.

She hopped down from the counter as he approached, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. He followed her gaze, then stepped closer—too close.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes before Sam finds out we stole his access card and breaks the door down.”

Y/N raised a brow, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Fifteen whole minutes?”

“Give or take.”

She sighed—exaggerated and dramatic—then reached for the scrunchie on her wrist and pulled it free. With practiced ease, she swept her hair up, tying it into a messy bun.

“That’s all I need.”

She walked past him toward the empty conference room, hips swaying, fingers brushing his arm as she went.

Just before she disappeared inside, she paused in the doorway and threw him a look over her shoulder.

“You coming, Falcon?”

Joaquin followed, heart pounding, grin blooming.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Sam and Bucky stood exactly where they promised themselves they wouldn’t be. Waiting.

Sam had his arms crossed, already preparing his full force dad voice. Bucky was sipping coffee like this was peak entertainment, grinning way too much for someone witnessing what might legally count as a workplace incident.

“You owe me twenty,” Bucky said. “I told you they wouldn’t make it past fifteen minutes.”

“You bet on them?” Sam asked, horrified.

“No, I bet on him. She’s terrifying. I’d have folded in ten.”

And right on cue, the door creaked open.

Out strolled Y/N.

Not just happy, not just smug. No—glowing. Like she had just ascended a level in life. Her bun was halfway undone, mascara smudged at the corners, and her sweatshirt was somehow inside out. She was chewing gum and grinning like she’d won gold in olympic level chaos.

Behind her?

Joaquin.

Hair completely wrecked. Shirt on backwards. Lipstick prints absolutely everywhere—his jaw, his neck, one hauntingly close to his ear. He looked dazed. Blissed out. Possibly reborn.

Sam blinked. Once. Twice.

“Your shirt’s on backwards,” he said flatly.

“Huh?” Joaquin glanced down, still a little out of it. “Oh.”

Y/N tossed Sam his access card like it was no big deal. “Thanks, boss. Appreciate the loaner.”

She patted his shoulder as she passed and added over her shoulder, “Y’all need better soundproofing, by the way.”

Sam stared into the void.

“I’m gonna need bleach,” he muttered. “For my brain.”

Bucky didn’t even pretend not to enjoy himself. “You think they’ll do this again or was that a one time blackout moment?”

Y/N and Joaquin were already halfway down the hall. She reached up and dragged her thumb along his jaw, smudging the lipstick even worse. He flinched.

“You are actually going to kill me,” Joaquin said weakly.

“Probably,” Y/N replied, all sugar. “But you’ll die smiling.”

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author's note: i need him real bad yall. i came up with this while listening to bed chem by our queen sabrina so i chose the title to honor her. i keep titling oneshots after songs i love it!

guys imagine dancing with joaquin though... i'm unwell.

[averageelliot]

JOAQUÍN:

SAM:

SAM: I’m not gonna praise you, Torres, you crashed in the water!

JOAQUÍN: :(

[moonlight-sonata99]

Sneak peek

Joaquin: Thank you enjoy your day..

[Reader]: You too papi

Joaquin: "you too papi"? What you trying to get into??

[Reader]: Ay papi I'm just doing my job

Joaquin:

[sgfgmichaelrry]

i start writing for joaquin torres and then what? he consumes my every thought? how sickening (please visit me in my dreams)

[trickarrows-bishop]

[andy-15-07]

Hii!! Can you do one of Joaquin x reader where they are dating and they went on vocation for summer with sam and his family. They went all to the beach and reader was wearing a black bikini that drove Joaquin crazy. She was teasing him all day saying stuff like if he can put on some sunscreen on her back with sweet voice and when he told him to join her for a swim he self-control snap when he wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist

Trouble in Black

PAIRING: Joaquin Torres x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 1466 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way — I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

The sun was barely past noon, beating down on the stretch of white sand where you, Joaquin, Sam, and Sam’s family had staked your claim for the day. Towels, umbrellas, coolers, and a speaker playing some old-school soul music were scattered across your little patch of paradise.

You were lying on your stomach on a beach towel, head resting on your folded arms, sunglasses perched on your nose. Your black bikini was the star of the show , at least it was for Joaquin, who’d spent the last two hours pretending to listen to Sam ramble about boat engines while sneaking glances at you every chance he got.

You knew exactly what you were doing. That bikini was borderline evil, and you wore it for him.

You turned your head, catching Joaquin watching you from where he sat beside Sam under an umbrella. You smiled lazily, then stretched, arching your back just a little too much. He swallowed visibly, his eyes flicking from your hips to your smile.

“Joaquin!” you called, voice syrupy sweet. “Can you help me with something?”

Sam paused mid-sentence. “Damn, Torres. She’s got you on sunscreen duty?”

“Shut up, man,” Joaquin grumbled, getting to his feet. He brushed the sand off his board shorts and sauntered over to you, trying to look unaffected. He wasn’t.

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. “I can’t reach my back,” you said innocently. “Can you put some on for me?”

He crouched down next to you, his shadow falling over your sun-warmed skin. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he muttered under his breath, squeezing some sunscreen into his palm.

“What was that?” you asked sweetly.

“Nothing.”

His hands smoothed the cool lotion over your shoulders first, then down your back. His touch was firm but gentle, fingers massaging circles into your skin. You sighed dramatically, biting back a grin when you felt his thumbs press a little harder at your lower back.

“Mmm… feels nice,” you murmured. “Maybe a little lower?”

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

You peeked over your shoulder at him. “You’re doing great, baby. Don’t stop.”

He let out a low laugh, half pained, half amused. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing. I just wanna be protected from the sun,” you said, fluttering your lashes behind your sunglasses.

“Liar,” he said, but he kissed the back of your shoulder anyway when he was done.

When he sat back on his heels, you rolled onto your back, stretching again just to watch his eyes darken.

“You good?” he asked, his voice a little rough.

“For now,” you teased.

You knew he wanted to kiss you senseless right then, but Sam’s nieces were building sandcastles ten feet away and Sam’s mom was sitting under her sun hat with a magazine, sneaking amused glances at you two when she thought you weren’t looking.

An hour later, you waded into the water with a plastic cup of lemonade in hand. Joaquin had retreated to the cooler to grab a drink, probably trying to cool himself off. Sam had gone for a run along the beach, and the rest of the family was busy playing paddleball.

You watched Joaquin standing at the edge of the surf, his feet half-buried in wet sand, looking like a summer daydream with his hair tousled by the ocean breeze.

“Hey, Torres!” you called out. You took a sip, letting the condensation drip down your wrist. “Come swim with me!”

He raised a brow. “You sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” you asked innocently, already wading deeper until the water reached your hips. “It’s perfect!”

“You’re evil,” he called back, but he grinned anyway and jogged in after you.

When he reached you, the water was up to your ribs. You splashed him, laughing when he cursed under his breath and splashed you right back. You shrieked, trying to dodge him, but he caught you around the waist easily.

“Gotcha,” he said, voice low near your ear.

You draped your arms around his neck and leaned in close, your nose brushing his jaw. “What are you gonna do now, huh?”

“Try not to do something Sam will kill me for,” he muttered, his hands warm and steady on your hips underwater.

“Oh, come on, Sam’s halfway down the beach,” you said, twisting a little so your chest pressed to his. “Besides, I’ve been so good all day. Don’t I deserve a reward?”

“You’ve been the opposite of good,” he said, but he was smiling, teeth flashing white under the sun.

You giggled, pressing your mouth to his jaw, then the corner of his lips. “One little swim,” you coaxed. “Please?”

“Yeah, okay, princesa,” he said softly.

But when you hooked your legs around his waist under the water, your grin wicked, his self-control snapped like a dry twig.

“Baby…” he warned, but you just hummed and pressed your lips to his ear.

“What?” you whispered. “I just wanna be close to you.”

“You’re killing me,” he said, voice strangled. His hands slipped under your thighs, keeping you anchored to him.

You leaned back to look at him, eyes wide and teasing. “Am I?”

He didn’t answer with words. He kissed you, hard enough that you squeaked against his mouth in surprise. The ocean swelled around you, warm and salty and endless, but all you felt was him , his tongue tracing yours, his hands squeezing your thighs when you moved just a little against him.

“Mm , Joaquin ,” you giggled against his lips, fingers threading through his hair.

“You think you’re funny?” he growled, breaking the kiss just enough to speak. “Driving me crazy all day?”

You kissed him again, tasting sunscreen and saltwater and the lemonade you’d abandoned somewhere behind you. “You love it.”

“Yeah,” he said, half-laughing into your mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

He carried you deeper, your legs locked tight around him, until you were both neck-deep in the waves. He nipped at your bottom lip and you gasped, tugging his hair in retaliation.

“Behave,” he said, voice low, forehead pressed to yours.

“Make me,” you challenged, and the look in his eyes nearly made your knees weak , not that they could buckle with you clinging to him like a starfish.

He kissed you again, slower this time but deeper, his hands sliding up your back under the water.

“Yo!”

You pulled back with a gasp, blinking toward shore. Sam was standing at the waterline, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Really?” he yelled. “Can you two not traumatize my nephews ?”

You burst into giggles, hiding your face in Joaquin’s neck. “Oops.”

Joaquin groaned. “Swear to God, Wilson…”

“Get a room!” Sam shouted, but he was laughing too, shaking his head as he turned back toward the others.

Later, you sprawled out on your towel again, your hair still wet from the ocean. Joaquin lay beside you, propped up on his elbow, tracing lazy patterns on your stomach with his fingertips.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, so only you could hear.

“You’d miss me if I wasn’t,” you teased, turning your face toward him.

“True,” he said with a soft grin. He leaned in, kissing you slow and sweet this time, tasting the salt still on your lips.

“Hey,” you whispered when he pulled back.

“Yeah?”

“You think they’ll let us sneak away later?”

He chuckled, glancing over at Sam’s sister, who was pretending not to eavesdrop but clearly was. “Not a chance.”

You sighed dramatically, draping an arm over your eyes. “Guess you’ll just have to suffer a little longer then.”

He dipped his head down, brushing his lips against your ear. “Oh, I plan to make you pay for this later, princesa. Just you wait.”

You shivered, grinning wickedly under your arm. “Can’t wait, baby.”

By sunset, the sky was painted pink and gold, the ocean reflecting it like a dream. You sat between Joaquin’s legs on a blanket, his arms wrapped around you while Sam’s family packed up for the night.

“You warm enough?” Joaquin asked, his mouth brushing your temple.

“Mhm. You’re warm enough for me.”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss into your hair. “You’re trouble.”

“And you love it.”

He hugged you tighter, burying his nose in your hair. “Yeah, I really do.”

You smiled to yourself, watching the last sliver of sun dip below the horizon, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong against your back.

Maybe you were trouble. Maybe you drove him crazy. But out here, tangled up in each other, the sand still clinging to your skin and the ocean still calling your names, it felt like the best kind of trouble in the world.

And neither of you would have it any other way.

[pixiexdusts-world]

Wings of rest

Joaquin Torres x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Joaquin returns home injured, and his girlfriend tends to him. They cuddle and kiss, bringing him comfort as he finally rests.

Word count: 644

Notes: no Captain America: Brave New World spoilers :)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Joaquin Torres groaned as he landed on the rooftop, his wings retracting with a soft metallic hum. His ribs ached, his muscles burned, and he knew tomorrow would be worse. The mission had been a success—barely—but right now, he wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about making it through the front door of his apartment without collapsing.

He didn’t have to, though. You were already there, waiting.

The moment he stepped inside, you were on him, your hands on his face, your eyes scanning every inch of him with worry. “You’re hurt,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over a bruise forming along his jaw.

“I’ll live,” he muttered, though he swayed on his feet.

You didn’t believe him. You never did.

“Sit,” you ordered, guiding him toward the couch. He didn’t argue, mostly because he was too tired to.

He let his head fall back against the cushions, exhaling sharply as you disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water and clinking bottles followed, and when you returned, you knelt in front of him, a damp washcloth in hand.

“This is gonna sting,” you warned.

“Everything already stings,” he joked, but it turned into a hiss when you dabbed at a cut on his temple.

You rolled your eyes. “Then stop getting hit in the face.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“So is coming home to me in one piece.”

He cracked a smile, but it faded as you continued your careful work. The warmth of your touch, the way you bit your lip in concentration—he felt it all, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

Once you were satisfied, you set the washcloth aside and cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Better?”

Joaquin sighed, leaning into your touch. “Much.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead before standing. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He let you pull him up, let you guide him to your room, let himself melt into the comfort of your presence. Because out there, he was the Falcon—fast, strong, untouchable. But here, with you?

Here, he could rest.

You helped him out of his gear, your fingers careful and patient as you unfastened the straps and peeled away the layers of his suit. Once he was down to just his sweatpants, you tugged him onto the bed, slipping under the covers beside him.

Joaquin sighed as you curled into his side, your warmth immediately easing the soreness in his body. He pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head while your fingers traced lazy circles on his bare chest.

“You scared me tonight,” you admitted softly.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond right away, just pressed a kiss to his shoulder before shifting up to look at him. Your eyes were soft, filled with something deeper than worry—something that made his heart ache in the best way.

“I just need you to come home,” you whispered.

Joaquin lifted a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I always will.”

You closed the small space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow and deep, like you were trying to remind yourself he was here, real and safe in your arms. He kissed you back just as tenderly, savoring the warmth, the softness, the quiet reassurance that no matter how hard things got, this—you—were always waiting for him.

When you finally pulled away, you nestled back into his chest, and Joaquin held you close, his lips resting against your forehead.

“Get some sleep, cariño,” you murmured.

He smiled, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “Only if you stay right here.”

And with you in his arms, he finally let himself drift off, knowing that for tonight, he was exactly where he belonged.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Bestie hear me out… something with dad Joaquin and a kiddo who is his number one fan 🙂‍↔️ ugh so cute he gives such girl dad energy

"Favorite"

[Joaquin Torres x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: Joaquin is away from home and misses his biggest fan.

Warnings: Fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 917 words

A/N: I wrote this on my phone so if there are mistakes that's probably why

"Papa!" your little girl squealed as Joaquin's face appeared on the screen.

"Cariño," he said grinning. "How's my girl?"

You watched from the side as she started to ramble about her week. At six years old, she had her father’s infectious energy—and his habit of talking a mile a minute. Joaquin had been gone for two weeks on a mission, and the absence had turned your apartment into a shrine to him. Her drawings of "Papa flying!!!" (stick figures with lopsided wings) covered the fridge. She’d commandeered his old shirt as a nightgown. You couldn't blame your little girl, you missed him too.

"—And Miss Jackson told us to draw our favorite superhero and I drew you!" she said excitedly.

"Really?" Even through a screen you could see how much he brightened at her words.

"Yeah! Wait let me show you!" she said before running to her room as fast she could on her little legs.

You come in sight of the camera, tilting your head at the sight of your husband. "Mini you is exhausting." is the first thing you say.

He laughed. "Oh come on, you love both of us."

You smiled. You did love both of them, more than you could describe. "When are you coming home?"

"Few days, give or take." He replied. "I miss you angel."

"I miss you too," you said. You missed him so so much. It was painful just how much. You barely slept because you were wondering where he was, how he was doing. How much you wished he was with you...

"What is it? I don't have something on my face, do I?" Joaquin said.

"Huh? What—No." you blushed, realizing you had been staring, too caught up in your own head. "Just...come back in one piece alright?"

"Of course I will," he reassured, grinning. "Can't leave my girls hanging."

You laughed. "I'll hold you to that."

Just then, your daughter came back, bouncing on her heels and clutching a piece of paper. "Papa! Look, look!" she said, holding it up to the screen.

It mimicked the multiple other drawings already on your fridge. A stick figure with black hair sticking up and gray 'wings' coming out from either side.

"Whoa, that's me! Look at those wings—my girl really is the best artist in the world isn't she?"

She giggled, proud of herself. "Yeah!"

"Get home quick and you'll see all her other drawings too," you chimed in. Your daughter bobbed her head up and down in a furious nod.

"And I'll take you up on that, angel. I want an art show when I'm back, can you do that?"

She giggled again. "Yes Papa."

"That's my girl."

Joaquin had to leave after a while, the look on your little girls face when that screen turned off nearly broke your heart .

You looked at her. "You wanna set up that 'art show', darling?"

Her eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Of course. We can use the living room for it."

She jumped up in excitement, and you sighed. This was going to be a long one.

It was 2 AM when you heard the creaking. You shot up in bed, already on high alert. Your daughter was already in bed. You hoped it was just her, just sneaking around, but you knew that was likely not the case.

You grabbed a small knife from your bed side drawer, tugging it into your pajama pants as you slowly got out of bed and crept into the hallway.

You were passing the kitchen when someone touched your shoulder. You nearly screamed.

"Woah! Hey It's just me!"

You inhaled shakily, turning to Joaquin sitting down on a kitchen stool. "Don't scare me like that."

He put his hands on your waist, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry angel."

He was tired, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than you've ever seen them. You sighed, putting your arms around his neck. "I thought you said it would take a few days.

"Hm...I might've twisted the truth. Just a bit..."

"Oh, so you're a liar now, are you?"

He laughed. "Maybe. I just wanted to surprise you. Showing up at 3 AM wasn't the plan though."

You didn't correct him on the time. It didn't matter much anyway. "You look exhausted love."

He shrugged you off. "I'll sleep later. Someone important I gotta see first."

"She's sleeping," you said, already knowing who he's talking about. "Come on."

You led him to your daughter's room. She was sleeping soundly in that old shirt of his you had once insisted on getting rid of because it was getting too small on Joaquin. You were glad he didn't listen to you.

He sat down next to her, looking at her.

"She missed you more than I did. And that's saying quite a bit," you added the last part after a moment.

He chuckled. "She is my best little girl."

You put your head on his shoulder. "And she knows it. Wanna wake her up?"

"No," he said with a tired sigh. "Let her sleep. I can see her adorable little face in the morning."

"Welcome back, Falcon," you said softly, kissing his cheek.

He turned his head to look at you. "I might never leave again."

You both knew he was lying, but it didn't matter at the moment. And it wouldn't for a while, both of you were going to make sure of that. One way or another.

[sunshine-lux]

ok ok but established relationship joaquin x stark!reader who’s got a sassy little attitude and whenever she’s in a mood (which is often) joaquin always messes with her in a cute and flirty way and sam is always scared like “she’s gonna kill you man”

imagine the little “stooopppp quino”

grumpy x sunshine core i love them

Birds Of A Feather

summary: just a glimpse into the very lovey and chaotic relationship of y/n and joaquin!

pairings: Stark!reader x joaquin torres

warnings: mentions of death sprinkled here and there but nothing serious! y/n constantly threatening joaquin LOL, f!reader, i think that's it!

word count: 3.1k

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Joaquin Torres loves his girlfriend. He’d do anything for her—no hesitation, no questions asked, no matter how dramatic or unreasonable. He’s obsessed. Helpless. Completely whipped.

But with that love comes the deep, primal urge to annoy her to the ends of the world and back.

And lucky for him?

 Y/N Stark makes it so, so easy.

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Y/N slid into the passenger seat of Joaquin’s truck with a huff, slamming the door shut and buckling her seatbelt without so much as a glance in his direction.

Joaquin paused, glancing over at her with an amused lift of his brow. “Hello to you too, sunshine.”

He reached over and poked her arm gently, trying to coax even the tiniest smile out of her.

Y/N didn’t move. Just side eyed him and mumbled, “Whatever. Hi.”

Joaquin bit back a grin. Yep. She was in a mood. He’d seen that look before��usually when someone at work had pissed her off, or her tech wasn’t cooperating, or someone had the audacity to ask her a stupid question in the elevator.

Tonight, apparently, he was the one in the line of fire. Unlucky him. Or lucky, depending on how much he wanted to test her.

“You had one of those days, huh?” he asked lightly, starting the engine.

She didn’t answer. Just crossed her arms and turned to face the window with a sigh.

Joaquin glanced over, still smiling. “Aww, come on. Give me some sugar, sugar.”

He leaned over to kiss her, one arm snaking toward her shoulder to pull her in.

Y/N jerked away instantly, twisting her body toward the door like she was about to open it and jump out mid drive. “I’m so overstimulated right now, get away from me, Joaquin Torres.”

He blinked, hand still suspended mid air. “Damn. Full name and everything.”

“Do not touch me. I mean it. If one more person tries to breathe in my direction, I’m gonna explode.”

He bit his lip to hide a laugh. “Okay, okay. Hands to myself. Got it.” He settled back into his seat, throwing her a sideways glance. “But just for the record, you’re still really hot when you’re grumpy.”

She sighed again, dramatic and sharp. “I know. It’s exhausting.”

Joaquin chuckled, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the driveway. “Want me to cancel the dinner res and just drive around until you’re slightly less homicidal?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering it. “Maybe. Only if you promise to shut up for five minutes.”

“Deal. But I reserve the right to poke you again when I feel like it.”

“Try it and I’ll bite your finger off.”

He grinned wide. “You flirt so weird.”

Y/N turned slowly to look at him, unimpressed. “You are so lucky you’re cute, Quino.”

He beamed. “You say that like it’s not my entire strategy.”

They’d been driving for ten minutes now, music low, windows cracked just enough to let the evening breeze in. Y/N hadn’t said much, but the tension in her shoulders was slowly easing. Her head leaned against the window, eyes closed, fingers tapping gently against her thigh to the beat of whatever lo-fi playlist Joaquin had put on as a peace offering.

Joaquin glanced over at her at the next red light, content to let her decompress.

Which is exactly when she spoke.

“Wow,” she muttered, voice thick with fake betrayal. “You’re not even gonna hold my hand?”

He blinked. “What?”

She turned to him slowly, eyes narrowed in mock offense. “Did you stop loving me or something?”

Joaquin snorted. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch you, you cannibalist.”

“That was ten minutes ago,” she said, wiggling her fingers toward him like bait. “Things have changed. Keep up, Torres.”

“You’re actually insane.”

“And yet, you’re obsessed with me.”

He rolled his eyes but reached across the console anyway, threading their fingers together. She immediately curled into it, squeezing his hand like it was the only thing tethering her to the planet.

He gave her a sideways glance. “So dramatic.”

“Mm. You like it.”

He kissed the back of her hand at the next red light, then refused to let go for the rest of the drive.

They got back to Joaquin’s place a little later, and by then Y/N’s bad mood had mostly fizzled out, leaving her comfortably tired and… just a little clingy. She kicked off her shoes by the front door and flopped face down onto the couch like she was done existing.

Joaquin laughed as he locked the door behind them. “You okay?”

“No,” came the muffled reply from the cushions. “I want chocolate and a heating pad and maybe to be held like a small, misunderstood Victorian orphan.”

He grinned. “So… a regular night in.”

She lifted one hand and flipped him off without lifting her head.

He crouched down and gently brushed her hair from her face. “You’re gonna knock out here like this?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled. “Couch has less betrayal than the world.”

He smiled, leaned in, and without another word, slid one arm under her legs and the other around her back — lifting her in one smooth, practiced motion.

Y/N blinked, startled. “What are you—?”

“Carrying you to bed, princess-style,” he said matter of factly, already heading down the hall. “Can’t let my misunderstood Victorian orphan sleep in the drawing room.”

She buried her face in his neck with a dramatic sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “here you are. In my arms. As foretold.”

“You’re lucky I’m weak.”

“You’re lucky I’m strong.”

She smiled against his skin. “Shut up and tuck me in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He returned a few minutes later with a heating pad, and a bar of chocolate he had absolutely bought just in case. He laid everything out beside her, then sat next to her and gently coaxed her to roll onto him.

She crawled into his lap like a sleepy cat, settling against his chest with a little sigh as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“See?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “All bark, no bite.”

“I bit you last week,” she mumbled.

“And it was hot.”

She snorted against his chest, letting him stroke her hair as she started to melt into the warmth and quiet.

“…Thanks, Quino,” she said softly after a beat.

He smiled against her forehead. “Always, mi amor.”

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It started innocently. It always started innocently.

They were supposed to be cleaning the kitchen. Keyword: supposed to. Y/N was wiping down the counter. Joaquin was in charge of dishes. Everything was fine. Peaceful, even.

Until he started singing.

Off-key.

Loudly.

And with zero knowledge of the actual lyrics.

“You. Belong. With me—YEAH! You BELONG with meeeeeee,” he howled, doing a little spin with a dirty plate in hand like it was a Grammy.

Y/N froze, rag in hand. “Quino.”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“That’s not even the right melody.”

He grinned. “I’m doing the remix.”

“Please don’t.”

But it was already too late. He launched into the next line, doubling the volume and somehow managing to harmonize with nothing.

“She wears short skirts I WEAR T-SHIRTS—”

“STOPPP,” Y/N shrieked, ducking her head into her hoodie, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. “Quinooo, I swear to god—”

He was cackling, absolutely thriving off her chaos, flicking soap bubbles at her now for extra effect.

“Say you like it,” he teased, chasing her around the island with a sponge. “Say I’m talented. Say I’m the people’s pop star.”

“YOU’RE A MENACE.”

She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, voice cracking as she tried to fight him off with a kitchen towel.

“Stop it,” she gasped, half laughing, half crying now, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m gonna pee. I’m gonna pee my pants. I mean it.”

“Better now than in the truck,” Joaquin said cheerfully, dancing around her like he was in a concert crowd. “This is the exclusive living room performance, babe. Be grateful.”

She collapsed onto the floor, breathless and curled in on herself, still giggling uncontrollably. “I’m going to call Sam and tell him what you’re doing to me.”

“Go ahead. He’ll side with me. He likes my performances.”

“HE DOESN’T.”

He knelt down beside her, smug and glowing with victory. “Admit it. You love me more when I’m annoying.”

“I don’t even like you right now.”

“You’re literally crying from laughter.”

“I’m crying because you’re deranged.”

He beamed. “Same thing.”

She flopped dramatically into his lap. “You’re exhausting. My brain is soup. I am soup now.”

He kissed her forehead like he hadn’t just caused a small emotional breakdown.

“I love you, my little soup.”

“Shut up.”

“Say it back.”

“Not until you promise to never sing Taylor Swift again.”

“...what if I said I have a whole playlist queued?”

“I will commit a crime.”

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Sam stepped into the apartment cautiously, already suspicious.

The music was loud. Like, walls shaking, windows rattling loud. And it wasn’t Joaquin’s usual feel good playlist—it was full on metal.  The kind of music that made Sam instinctively squint.

He followed the sound into the living room and found Y/N sitting cross legged on the floor, dressed in sweatpants and an oversized AC/DC shirt, hair wild, eyeliner smudged like she’d either had a long night or a very powerful catnap. She was tinkering with some little device in her lap that looked like an arc reactor, because of course.

Joaquin was in the kitchen, squinting dramatically at the Bluetooth speaker like it had personally offended him.

“She’s been playing this for an hour,” he called out when he noticed Sam.

Y/N didn’t look up. “You can leave. Door’s right there.”

Sam held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just here to borrow the air fryer. Don’t involve me in whatever this is.”

“It’s Iron Maiden,” Y/N said proudly. “It’s culture.”

“It’s a cry for help,” Joaquin muttered, scrolling through his phone. “We could be listening to Bad Bunny right now. We could be thriving.”

Y/N shot him a look over her shoulder. “Touch that speaker and I’ll throw this at you.”

Joaquin grinned. Touched the speaker anyway.

Instantly, the music cut off. Replaced by reggaetón.

Y/N froze. Slowly turned around like a horror movie villain.

“Joaquin.”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“What did I just say?”

“That threats of violence are foreplay?”

Before Sam could even process that, Joaquin darted out of the kitchen, sprinting across the room as Y/N launched a pillow at his head. She stood up in one fluid motion, chasing after him.

“I told you not to!”

He laughed, circling the couch. “I’m enhancing the vibe!”

She chased him halfway around the living room before he doubled back, caught her mid-lunge, and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Joaquin!” she screeched, fists pounding against his back. “PUT ME DOWN.”

“I will,” he said cheerfully, “once you admit my music taste is superior.”

“Never! I don’t even understand what they’re saying!”

Sam stood there frozen, holding the air fryer under one arm like a shield. “She’s gonna kill you, man. Actually kill you. Like, she’s got the Stark sass in her bloodline. You are so dead.”

Joaquin just danced around with her still on his shoulder, shaking his hips to the beat, grinning big.

“This is a normal Tuesday, relax,” he said, spinning with her as she screamed bloody murder and maybe—just maybe—was starting to laugh a little.

“I hate you,” Y/N gasped between giggles.

He smacked a kiss to her thigh. “You’re obsessed with me.”

Sam backed slowly toward the door, still holding the air fryer like it might explode. “I’m leaving. Y’all are unwell.”

Joaquin winked at him. “Tell the world our love is powerful.”

Y/N elbowed him in the back. “Tell the world he’s getting buried in the backyard if he plays 'Moscow Mule' again.”

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Y/N got in a mood when Joaquin didn’t answer her text right away.

So when he finally walked through the door with groceries like a normal person, Y/N was already curled up on the couch in his hoodie looking emotionally unstable.

“You forgot about me,” she said flatly, not even looking up from the blanket she was swaddled in.

Joaquin blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t respond for forty-three minutes,” she said, holding up her phone like it was evidence in a trial. “I timed it.”

“I was driving. For you. To get your snacks.”

She sniffed. “I thought you were dead. Or worse. Ignoring me.”

He set the bags down and walked toward her slowly. “You good?”

“No. I’m feeling very unloved and neglected and fragile.”

“You FaceTimed me from the bathroom while I was still at the store.”

“I was vulnerable.”

He grinned. Oh. Oh. So that’s the game they were playing.

“Mi vida,” he said, kneeling in front of her like she was on her deathbed. “Are you saying I emotionally wounded you by leaving you here for an hour?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re right. I’ve been so cruel.” He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “But if I leave you again… take me out. I won’t survive the guilt.”

Y/N stared at him. “Don’t. Don’t do the soft voice thing. I’m being dramatic. Let me be dramatic.”

“You want me to be distant to fuel the bit? Okay.” He stood up abruptly. “You’re right. Maybe I have been pulling away.”

Her eyes widened. “What.”

“I just think we’ve gotten too close, you know? Too fast. Maybe we need space.”

“JOAQUIN.”

“I’m worried we’re codependent.”

“STOP. TAKE IT BACK.”

He smirked, circling the couch now, fully committing. “Do you think we lost ourselves in each other?”

She launched a throw pillow at his head. “I will cry on purpose.”

“Good. I like it when you cry. Makes me feel needed.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m yours.”

She screamed into the pillow. “This is NOT how ragebait is supposed to go!”

“You tried to ragebait the ragebait champion. Know your place, princess.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

He flopped down beside her and tugged her into his lap, arms looping around her.

“You’re obsessed with me,” he whispered.

“I am,” she hissed back. “And I hate that for me.”

“Bet you still want forehead kisses.”

“…Shut up and do it already.”

He kissed her forehead three times in a row, obnoxiously loud.

She groaned. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“And I’m only getting hotter.”

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Y/N had exactly one thing planned for the evening: an uninterrupted candlelit bath. She’d earned it—long day, annoying people. The lights were low, her bath bomb had fizzed and the water was just hot enough to sting a little.

She’d sunk in with a dramatic sigh, bubbles up to her collarbones, a glass of wine perched dangerously close to her phone.

Then, like clockwork, the bathroom door creaked open.

“I swear to god,” she muttered, not even opening her eyes. “Joaquin—”

“Heyyy,” he said cheerfully, already strolling in. “Just checking on my girl. You know. Make sure you’re alive and not drowning in your own princess foam.”

She cracked one eye open to glare at him. “I locked that door.”

He sat down fully on the closed toilet seat, grinning. “I picked it. Don’t be mad. I missed you.”

“You saw me ten minutes ago.”

“And yet—here I am. Suffering without you.”

Y/N groaned and sank lower into the water. “You’re such a pest.”

He leaned forward dramatically, elbows on knees, chin in hand. “Tell me about your day, babe.”

“No.”

“I’m your boyfriend.”

“I didn’t ask for therapy. I asked for silence.”

He dipped a hand into the water and flicked it gently at her arm.

She didn’t even flinch. “Do it again and I’ll drown you.”

He flicked again. “I like my odds.”

She turned her head, giving him an exasperated look. “Are you seriously just gonna sit there the whole time?”

“I can sit in there, if you want,” he offered innocently.

“You are the worst.”

Another splash.

“I swear—Joaquin, I am so close to—”

She paused mid threat and sighed.

“…Are you gonna get in or what?”

Joaquin lit up. “God, I love you.”

He stood and peeled off his clothes in record time, stepping into the tub behind her like he’d been waiting for that moment all day. He slid into place, wrapping his arms around her waist as she shifted forward to make room.

Now she was sitting between his legs, back against his chest, his stupid heartbeat steady and warm against her spine.

For a long moment, they were both quiet. Then:

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” she muttered. “Annoy me until I invited you in just to shut you up?”

He beamed against the side of her face. “You're so easy to break, princess. I was barely getting started.”

She snorted. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

She turned just enough to flick a bubble at his face.

He gasped. “Betrayal. In my bathtub?”

She grabbed the shampoo bottle and shoved it into his hands. “If you’re gonna invade, you’re doing labor. Wash my hair.”

He took it like it was a sacred task. “Gladly. You have the best hair in the world, by the way. It’s so soft and smells so good.”

“Stop talking.”

“But it’s true.”

“Quino.”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“…Scrub.”

He lathered up her hair, fingers surprisingly gentle. Y/N sighed, melting back into him despite herself. He hummed a dumb little tune while massaging her scalp.

Eventually, she opened one eye. “You do know I’m gonna finish this bath alone after this, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, kissing the back of her shoulder. “Just wanted to be annoying enough to get a cuddle in. Mission accomplished.”

She smiled, tiny and smug. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

There was a pause. A long, quiet one.

Then, softly: “You’re so annoying.”

He grinned against her shoulder. “I’m aware.”

“No, like, you drive me insane.”

“Only the best for my princess.”

She groaned, but it was hopeless. Her head tilted slightly, letting it rest against his. “…And I love you so much all the same.”

His arms tightened just a little, his smile stretching even wider. “I know you do.”

“Quino.”

He laughed, kissed the side of her head, then whispered against her temple, voice lower now. “I love you too, cariño. So much.”

She closed her eyes again, finally at peace—surrounded by bubbles, steam, and the most annoyingly perfect human she’d ever known.

And for once, she let him stay in the bath the whole time.

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author's note: my first joaquin imagine ahhhh!! this is so freaking cute i was giggling and kicking my feet writing it. he's so cute i loveee him.

also ugh, when y/n says she doesn't like bad bunny cause she doesn't understand what he's saying hurt my soul cause i'm latina LMAO

i need to write more for him, and lucky for me, i have another quino request that i'll be starting this week!!

[caxapthecat]

STEVE ROGERS WOULD PUNCH THE SHIT OUT OF DONALD TRUMP!!!!!

[81gb]

anthony mackie & danny ramirez , ode interview .

[frogo-star11]

captain america: the first avenger is about how nazis fucking suck and we need to band together to stop them.

captain america: the winter soldier is about how fascists can be anywhere, and we have to stop them, even if it means going against what feels like the whole world.

captain america: civil war is about how even when there are fewer fascists, regular people can still be wrong and the government can't be trusted to keep the best interest of minorities in mind.

captain america: brave new world (and, to an extent, TFATWS) is about how when people in power keep secrets, miscommunicate, and spread lies, everyone suffers.

[f-misc]

Captain America: Brave New World

the framed photos on the shelves in sam's office

highest shelf: sam and riley eye-level shelf: sam and bucky lower shelf: sarah, sam and torres