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yourauthorjen · 3 months ago

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LOVE ME IN THE QUIET - joaquin torres

(requests open)

masterlist

| synopsis: | it was supposed to be forbidden, yet everytime you and joaquin passed each other in the avengers base and met eyes, it ended with the sweet taste of his lips on yours

| includes: | joaquin x reader, forbidden love, sneaking around, fluff, steamy, sam being a big old grump, angst, sexual tension + themes, 14+, use of y/n

| word count: | 2.9k

| a/n: | i truly love a good old steamy forbidden romance but this is probably gonna be the spicest thing i’ve written. i've been dying to write a domestic joaquin and i wanna know your thoughts on this.

KEEPING IT PROFESSIONAL was hard to do when doe eyed Joaquin Torres wandered into the kitchen, curls sticking up in different directions, sweatpants hanging off his hips, and a white t-shirt clinging onto his broad shoulders.

You almost choked on your Rainbow Pebbles, which had suddenly become very unappetizing compared to the mouthwatering sight of Joaquin’s biceps.

Your eyes lingered on his frame as he threw the refrigerator door open and pulled out a carton of milk, his arms flexing with each movement— which was highly unfair seeing that your hair was tossed into a messy braid and your oversized shirt swallowed half of your body.

However, Sam had made it crystal clear that your feelings towards Joaquin would be stomped on with a pile of dusty old folders sitting in his office cabinet waiting to be sorted. So, with no other choice you were left to slamming your feelings into a box, wrapping it in duct tape, and pretending that your heart didn’t skip several beats every time Joaquin so much as breathed in your direction.

You crunched on a mouthful of Rainbow Pebbles, trying to focus on literally anything else other than the hot oblivious heathen leaning against the counter nursing his cup of coffee.

Somehow, Joaquin still caught your eye mid-sip, his lips quirking into that devastatingly soft, boyish smile that had no business being aimed directly at you.

“Morning,” he said, voice low and raspy from sleep.

You blinked twice. Once to clear your head, and the other to find your voice. "Good morning."

He ruffled his messy curls with one hand, before setting his coffee cup down and lazily stretching his arms over his head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a sliver of golden skin. "You’re up early," he said, his lips twitching.

You averted your eyes, staring down at your colourful bowl of milk. "Couldn't sleep," you mumbled, absentmindedly stirring your spoon around.

"Oh."

You cleared your throat, swallowing the last dregs of cereal in your bowl before standing up and walking to the dishwasher and dumping your silverware into the sink. "I'll be in the training room," you drawled turning to face him, "And Sam shouldn't be awake until 11."

Joaquin straightened up and sauntered over to where you were standing, the air shifting with a desperate need for his lips to be against yours, and the scent of pine and spice radiating off his body.

You backed up slightly, bumping into the edge of the counter behind you, heart hammering against your ribs. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle—he never was—and that mischievous glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He leaned in, one hand braced against the counter near your hip, sandwiching you in between his chest and the marble tile with that lazy, easy confidence that made your knees feel like jelly. Your chest pounded painfully as you fought the urge to reach out, to curl your fingers into the soft fabric of his t-shirt and just pull.

"Training room?" he asked his voice rough.

You nodded, lifting your chin defiantly. "Unless you want to join me?"

He trailed a hand down your arm before settling tightly on your waist, "Is that your way of asking for us to hang out?"

Your cheeks burned and you slipped away from his grasp. "Don’t flatter yourself, Torres. I'm gonna change, if you need me come to the training room to find me."

You spun on your heel and marched towards your room not daring to turn back around.

And like you had promised, you had changed into a two piece, now pacing anxiously trying to get your heart rate back to something remotely normal. You busied yourself with a punching bag, repeatedly hitting the battered bag over and over again until you gave up because a specific someone had infiltrated your concentration to the point you were punching air.

It was still early, meaning most of the team was still in bed trying to get as much rest as they could before Sam began handing out orders at the team briefing like party favours.

You were so caught up with the flood of thoughts rushing through your head you didn't even hear the door open until you saw Joaquin, hair mussed, still wearing the same loose sweatpants and tight fitting shirt in the reflection of the mirror.

You dropped your fists, chest rising and falling.

"I'm surprised you came."

Joaquin raised an eyebrow, stepping forward, meeting you halfway. "Why wouldn't I?"

You shrugged, tossing your training gloves to the ground. "One day you and I are gonna get caught and Sam's gonna send us both to the North Pole."

His lips fell into an amused smile as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

“But it'll be worth it." he whispered, leaning in close enough that you could count the freckles on his face.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful or gentle like it usually was—it was messy and fast, all teeth and tongues and weeks of bottled-up tension spilling over. His hands tightened around your hips, and you gasped into his mouth, fingers threading into the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

You stumbled backward until your shoulders hit the padded wall, Joaquin chasing after you like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

A whimper escaped your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip, fingers digging into his hair as he pinned you against the wall, both of you kissing each other until you were gasping for breath. Giddy and dazed, he buried his nose into the crook of your neck where he trailed sloppy kisses across you collarbone, then across your jawline, to the point the stubborn ache in your stomach intensified ten fold.

You squeezed your eyes shut as your hands trailed to the hem of his shirt, and before you knew it his lips were on yours again, your own lips parting greedily against his. Any scattered thought that had been rushing through your head before bounced right out as you felt his muscles contract under your fingertips, and as you kissed him harder you lost sense of time, place and everything except for the sweet taste of his mouth.

Though the sound of lumbering footsteps snapped you out of your drunken haze as you pulled away from Joaquin, hearing a small grumble outside the door.

“—too damn early to be— what the heck?”

Your eyes widened as you pulled away from Joaquin, face burning when you realized how far up his shirt your hands had gotten, and the intentional way you’d twisted the fabric to the point you were seconds away from yanking it off his head.

Joaquin looks as alarmed as you were before you dragged him into the washroom tucked into the corner of the training room. The two of you ducked inside, shutting the door gently behind you just as the gym door creaked open.

“I swear to god,” a voice— Sam’s voice muttered, “If Clint doesn’t start picking his shit up I’m banning him from the training room forever.”

You pressed yourself tigher against the bathroom wall, Joaquin practically on top of you, both of you holding your breath as Sam’s voice floated through.

You felt Joaquin’s chest shaking lightly against yours—he was laughing silently, the absolute menace—and you had to bite your lip to keep from making any sound.

When Sam finally gave up and left, the door slamming shut behind him, you both sagged in relief.

“Well that was a close call,” he said grinning his face just a few feet away from yours, mischief burning in his eyes.

“Too close,” you hissed back, smacking his chest lightly.

He smirked as he caught your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “So…”

You rolled your eyes but you stood on your tiptoes pressing your lips against his. He groaned as you wrapped your arms around his, pulling tighter.

"You're gonna kill me," he murmured into your mouth as you swallowed him with kisses.

"Well don't drop dead on me Sergeant, or how am I supposed to explain it to Sam?” you said hands finding the edge of his T-shirt again.

He just made a noise, and before you could process he picked you up in one swift motion putting you onto the counter of the sink. With no place for your legs to go you wrapped them around his waist, a small groan escaping his mouth when you wound your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you stumbled out of the training room, lips swollen and eyes heavy. You didn’t need a mirror to know you looked like an absolute mess. Which was why a you immediately made a beeline for your room, hoping to change before anyone spotted you.

Joaquin however, didn’t seem to much in a rush, instead he blew you a kiss and squeezed your hand before he walked away with ease.

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness. He was for sure gonna get the two of you caught soon.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cursing softly underneath your breath you dug through your closet trying to find a suitable hoodie that covered the faint pink marks blooming along your neck—souvenirs from Joaquin’s thoroughly distracting mouth.

Begrudgingly you tugged on a grey hoodie, double— then triple checking, to ensure that the fabric covered everything. And when you walked into the briefing room where Joaquin and Peter were already waiting, Joaquin smirking as he eyed you up and down.

You shot him a warning look taking a seat beside him— no games this time. You didn’t need Sam’s god forsaken rule to be brought up and taped to your forehead again. Still, it didn’t stop Joaquin from reaching out and brushing the tips of his fingers against your pinky under the table.

You stiffened, glaring at him, but he just smiled innocently, not even a little sorry.

When you turned slightly to nudge him with your elbow, Joaquin caught your hand properly, giving it a teasing squeeze. You had to bite back a giggle, yanking your hand away, but not before he traced a slow, featherlight line across your wrist with his thumb.

As the door creaked open and the other members of the team began slowly filing in, all cradling a cup of coffee in their hands, you and Joaquin both snapped into a somewhat professional manner— back straight and eyes away from each other.

When Sam passed by you couldn’t help but tense, as he paused beside the two of you eyes narrowing slightly. You forced your lips into a polite smile, trying not to fidget with your fingers as he opened his mouth.

But before he could say anything, Yelena stormed into the room, the blonde throwing the door open so hard it bounced against the wall.

“Phew,” she announced loudly, fanning herself dramatically. “Who leaked all the testosterone in here?”

You and Joaquin stiffened as every pair of eyes turned toward Yelena.

A warmth began to bloom up your neck as you tried not to look at Joaquin, panic building in your stomach as you chewed nervously on your lower lip.

Sam furrowed his brow. “What testosterone?”

Yelena looked between you and Joaquin—lingering a little too long on your flushed cheeks and Joaquin’s guilty smile—then shook her head.

“Never mind,” she said sweetly, sliding into a chair, “Sorry I’m late.”

Sam scowled before pointing to the screen behind him. “Okay then, I guess we’ll start. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

The briefing started, Sam talking through mission objectives, logistics, intel. You tried your hardest to focus, scribbling notes furiously, avoiding even looking at Joaquin.

Everything was going to be fine. You tried to assure yourself, but it wasn’t until Sam looked up from his tablet and began reading out partners for the next mission that things started to go bad.

“Alright. I’m assigning partners for the missions next week. Joaquin, you’re with Yelena. Y/N, you’re with Peter.”

Joaquin scowled, visibly dissapointed at the partnering.

“You’ve got a problem with that Torres?” Sam asked casually, though the suspicious look on his face said otherwise.

You elbowed Joaquin, as he opened his mouth. “No he doesn’t have a problem with that, right Joaquin,” you cut in loudly, sending him a dirty look.

He looked between you and then Sam and nodded meekly. “Nope, no problem with that, I can work with Yelena.”

Sam didn’t look convinced and slammed both his palms down onto the table as he looked between the two of you. “Does someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on between these two?”

You flinched slightly, the room going so silent you could hear Peter awkwardly fidgeting two seats down.

You opened your mouth to say something— anything— but the words caught in your throat. Your head went blank and the air in your lungs seemed to have rushed out of the room as you sunk into your seat.

Joaquin shifted nervously beside you, his knee bumping yours.

And that tiny movement— the little nervous tic was all it took.

From the other side of the room, Yelena huffed loudly and muttered under her breath,“Please, it’s obvious. They’re sleeping together.”

You choked on your own spit eyes wide as saucers, as Joaquin visibly flinched beside you.

You were gonna kill Yelena.

Sam on the other hand, his face went utterly, frighteningly blank.

“Excuse me?” Sam said slowly, voice low and dangerous, like a storm about to hit.

Yelena shrugged unapologetically. “What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. Please, look at them. He’s basically vibrating out of his seat.”

Scott coughed to hide a laugh. Peter turned bright red. Clint and Kate didn’t even bother hiding his huge, shit-eating grin.

Sam turned back to you and Joaquin, crossing his arms, tapping his foot.

“Well?” he demanded.

Joaquin swallowed hard, and before you could stop him, blurted, “We’re… together.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead onto the table with a loud thunk.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose like he was physically in pain. “I knew it. I knew you two were sneaking around like a couple of damn teenagers! I just didn’t have enough fucking evidence AND I haven’t had maintenance fix the cameras yet.”

“We’re not teenagers,” you mumbled into the table, mortified beyond belief.

Sam slammed a hand down again. “OUT! Everybody OUT except Dumb and Dumber over here!”

They didn’t need telling twice, because as soon as the words left Sam’s mouth, chairs scraped back, papers flew everywhere, and the entire team bolted out the door.

Once it was just the three of you, Sam rounded on you and Joaquin, his face red and his veins bulging. “I specifically said none of this,” he thundered. “I made one rule and now what? You’re sneaking around making googly eyes and banging each other in the training room?”

You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a strangled sound.

Sam turned even redder as he reeled on you, “So you have been fucking in the training room! It was the two of you this morning!”

“It’s not— it’s not affecting the team,” you sputtered, “We’re being professional about it. It’s not my fault that I was a horny virgin locked in a H.Y.D.R.A base for half my life.”

“We’re being careful,” Joaquin said rubbing the back of his neck.

Sam threw his hands in the air. “Oh yeah? Real careful,” he snapped, gesturing wildly. “She’s sitting there wearing a freaking hoodie in July trying to hide a whole damn crime scene!”

You sank lower in your seat, mortified.

“It’s not a crime scene,” you muttered weakly.

Sam pointed at you pacing back and fourth. “You! Stop enabling him!” He then pointed at Joaquin. “You! Keep it in your pants!”

Just as you were about to protest the door to the briefing room crashed open, and the rest of the team spilled in. Yelena, Kate, Scott, Peter, and Clint, all piled on top of each other in a heap, having clearly been eavesdropping.

Peter groaned from the bottom of the pile. “Ow—Scott, your elbow—”

Clint shoved Kate off him. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Scott grinned up at Sam sheepishly. “We were just… uh… making sure no one needed backup.”

Sam looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“You’re ALL on trash duty,” he barked, jabbing a finger toward the door. “I don’t care if you’re Avengers, I don’t care if you’ve saved the world—this is janitorial punishment now! You’re cleaning every quinjet, every training room, every bathroom, until further notice.”

The collective groan from the heap of eavesdroppers was almost enough to make you feel bad. Almost.

Sam spun back to you and Joaquin. “And if see you two as much as kissing, I will send each of you to a different continent. So keep it together.”

Sam let out the longest, most exhausted sigh of his life and stomped out of the room, muttering something about retirement and running a circus instead of a team of Avengers.

You groaned as the door swung shut and Clint and Kate both burst into loud cackles as Peter patted you on the shoulder.

You collapsed next to Joaquin burying your face into his chest as he let out a relieved sigh. “If I were you,” Scott said sympathetically, “I would’ve had Ant-Thony eat me.”

“Gee. thanks Scott,” you grumbled, “That really makes me feel a lot better.”

You then turned to look at Joaquin. “I told you we’d get caught and yet you’re still sitting here looking optimistic as fuck.”

Joaquin shrugged, giving you that same devastatingly crooked grin that got you into this mess in the first place. “Well maybe ‘cause it was always worth it.”

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