dameronspector

[dameronspector]

Philophobia (Part 6)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Stark!GN!Reader

Chapter Summary: You finally talk to Happy and ask him about the two people that you miss more than you want to admit. Sam and Bucky reluctantly take you to Berlin with them, Joaquin keeps you company again and you and Joaquin get closer.

Warnings: Mentions of Death and Depression/Depressive episodes, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Isolating, Bad coping mechanisms, Some cursing, FLUFF!!, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow burn(?), Yearning, A lil suggestive, Reader is stubborn, We slowly learn about readers past and their connection to #them, Reader’s Iron Suit/Superhero name is Midnight, Reader has some phobias, Found family, Reader is slowly becoming fonder of Joaquin, that’s it I think!

AN: ooooh I love this one a lot actually ☺️

After that…interesting conversation with Walker and Bucky, the four of you made your way back to the car. Sam and Bucky were in the front, Sam driving and Joaquin was sitting in the backseat with you. The car was silent, tense after Bucky’s announcement of wanting to get Zemo’s help. A phone ringing broke the silence. You brought your phone up to read Happy’s name on the screen. Thankfully since it was dark, nobody noticed the way you froze. Or at least, you thought so, because Joaquin’s full attention was on you.

You took a few calming breaths before picking up the call, praying that it wasn’t May this time.

“Kiddo?” It was Happy, thank god.

“Hey, Haps”, you sighed in relief.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you about May. It completely slipped my mind”, he replied, his voice heavy with guilt and apology.

You swallowed before answering, “It’s- it’s alright. How is she?”, you asked hesitantly.

“She’s alright, yeah. She started her own charity, I’m sure you know by now.”

“Yep. I do”, you still followed her on socials, not having the heart to completely sever the relationship. “And...how’s everything going with you two?”

"It's going good, great even. She said you cut the call when she picked it up?"

"Happy..", you sighed and bit the inside of your cheek.

"C'mon, (Name), it's been months. What's the harm in a simple phone call?", Happy tried to convince you. Ever since him and May started dating, he wanted you to get along with her, saying that your approval meant the world to him. But you were so happy for them. They were adorable together. Happy just wanted you to talk to her normally again.

"I..I don't know. Maybe some other day. How's...", you trailed off hesitantly, picking a random thread on your jeans.

"Peter?", Happy offered and you hummed.

"He's-you know how he gets. Took everything upon him. He's been looking more and more exhausted every day. Doesn't rest, says he needs to patrol. He's become paranoid, sorta", Happy sighed in concern.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. Peter would always blame himself for everything that went wrong and that's why you worried about him, even now. You knew he was just as bad as you were after your dad passed away. He was inconsolable, Rhodey told you so, and that he had to physically separate Peter from Tony's body. You were so out of it, that you didn't notice all of this happening right next to you. Ever since you found out about it, you've felt guilty and worried for Peter excessively.

"Happy, please, look after him", you whispered desperately into the speaker. Joaquin looked at you with his face twisted in confusion.

"Yeah, I will. Anyways, May has sent her well wishes and love to you", Happy changed the topic, knowing how much you stressed about Peter.

You smiled sadly. May was always like a second mom to you. "Tell her I said thanks."

Happy hummed. "Why did you call me, by the way?"

You sighed and shook your head, "Oh boy, I'll tell you all about that later. I'm...working right now."

"Okay...you better not be getting into any trouble. And, does Pepper know about this work?"

You paused. "Umm...I guess? Okay, Happy, I gotta go, Bye!"

"Wait-", and you abruptly cut the call, shutting your eyes in regret. He was going rat you out to Pepper and she was going to panic about you going on a mission in a completely different country and not just helping Sam with his tech. You quickly shot a text to Rhodey, explaining the situation to him and telling him to handle Pepper and Happy and thankfully, he said he will do it.

Joaquin observed you for a while, wondering about your relationship with this woman and this guy. He decided to shove it back into his mind and tried to clear the awkward tension in the car.

"Uh- where are we going now?", Joaquin looked between Sam and Bucky. Sam scoffed and looked out of the window before glancing at Bucky.

"We’re going to a prison in Germany, to talk to the most dangerous criminal in the whole world", he announced in a fake-happy tone.

Bucky licked his lips and turned to look outside the window, a sarcastic smile on his face. You looked at Joaquin and shook your head.

"We're also coming with you, right?", you asked curiously.

"No", both Sam and Bucky replied at the same time.

"You're kidding. I don't know about flyboy, but I'm coming with you two", You asked them heatedly. First, they make you leave your house, then they convince you to join them, then they make you face an idiot like Walker and now they're telling you to go home right when they want to meet up with Zemo? Like you're supposed to be normal about this?

Joaquin speaks up then, "Hold on, yo, I'm coming with you as well. Who's gonna fly you there?", he asked with an eyebrow raised.

"You're coming with us, Torres. They are not", Sam conceded. Now, you were positively angry.

"And why is that, Samuel? Weren't you the one who asked me to join you? You think I can't handle it?", you accused him, never backing down from a challenge.

Sam took a deep breath in, "It's not that, (Name)-" "Then what is it?", you questioned him.

"It's too...personal for you", Sam tried to reason. You let out a scoff.

"Personal? Just say that you're afraid of my reaction to when I come face to face with Zemo, because you two actually wanna work with him and I'll fuck up your mission, Sam", you spit out and folded your arms across your chest.

Sam shook his head and Bucky let out a sigh, "It's not that, kid, we just wanna protect you. It's been a long time since you did this."

Your mouth fell open in offense, "Just because I was depressed for the last few months, doesn't mean I'm useless, Barnes", you responded in a hurt tone, your eyes shining with tears.

Bucky's face flashed with realization and his eyes widened, he turned around with a pained look on his face, clearly not meaning to sound like that.

"Wait, no, I didn't-" "I'll stay with them, guys. It's okay. (Name), you're coming with us", Joaquin surprised the three of you with his response. You stared at him in shock. He gave you a tentative smile before turning to look at Sam through the rearview mirror, "That's okay, right, Sam?"

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line before hesitantly nodding his head. "But, no stupid business, no doing shit solo or disappearin’ without informing us. You're gonna follow whatever Bucky and I say, that clear?", Sam asked you and you nodded tersely.

"Thank you", you addressed Sam before turning to Bucky, "and I'm sorry, Buck. I know you didn’t mean it like that. I just…", you murmured lowly. Whenever someone would treat you were some fragile thing, it made you defensive. Because your brain would convince you that you were useless and that others thought the same. Depression and you were best friends, after all.

Bucky shook his head and patted your knee, "No, I'm sorry. I should’ve known better", he replied in a soft voice.

You gave him a weak smile and turned your attention back to Joaquin, "Thank you, Joaquin", you muttered softly. Joaquin looked at you with that beautiful smile stretching on his lips and patted your hand unknowingly.

Your hand was warm from where he had kept his on top. He took it away way too soon and you were left craving for his warmth, your hand tingling. You looked at his sharp side profile longingly before turning back to look outside the window, your chest heavy with something that you didn't want to name.

-

After a long flight to Berlin, the four of you finally landed and Sam and Bucky asked you to stay back at the hotel with Joaquin. They were going to the prison to meet up with Zemo and you understood the gravity of the situation so you chose to stay back.

After they left, you and Joaquin retreated to your respective rooms to freshen up. Once you had showered and finished changing into comfortable clothes, you walked out of the room and your attention went to Joaquin's room. The door to his room was ajar and you noticed the way his desk was already littered with his things- his laptop, headphones and a few pieces of paper. You could hear the shower running from the bathroom in the hallway and decided to approach his desk out of curiosity.

Your eyes first fell on a graphic on the screen, it was a design of a jet pack, the colors being green and beige, mainly. Then you looked at the papers laying on the desk- they were drawings of mechanical wings and a suit. Your raised your eyebrows, impressed at his drawing skills and at the fact that Joaquin Torres wanted to be the Falcon and he had already designed his own suit? How sweet, you thought. He really was, Sam's number 1 fan.

"Oh—Hi, (Name)."

You jumped at his voice and turned around and regretted it immediately because he was shirtless. Your mouth fell open and your face warmed up as you raked your eyes across his body. His curls were still damp and they sat atop his head in a perfect mess, he was wearing black shorts and oh my god, he was ripped. You knew his arms were muscular but he was always dressed in either his army uniform or jackets so you couldn't really tell. He was lean, his arms toned and his physique looked nothing less than an athlete's. You stared at him in shock and snapped out of your daze when he started walking towards you.

"Hi! Sorry, I—Ididn't mean to intrude, I saw the sketches and I just-", you stuttered and halted when he stood next to you, the scent of the vanilla body wash hitting your nose, his warmth practically beckoning you closer.

"Don't apologise, it's alright. You'd give me an honest review, at least", he murmured sheepishly, his cheeks reddening because he definitely noticed you checking him out. Joaquin wanted to scream and giggle at the same time.

"Yeah! Right-uh, these are pretty cool, actually. Didn't know you were an artist, as well", you replied nervously and let out a breathy laugh, focusing on the sketches in front of you. He finally moved away from you and you closed your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief when he came back wearing a tank top (which wasn't any better because you still wanted to bite his arms. Wait, what?)

Joaquin rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and chuckled, "Yeah...since I saw Sam for the first time on the TV, I started sketching him excessively. And it slowly became a hobby. Then I turned to graphic designing and digital art.”

You made an impressed face and picked up one of the papers, observing the details.

“You didn’t tell me you wanted to be the Falcon”, you teased him lightly.

He let out a sheepish chuckle and you noticed that his lower teeth were adorably crooked.

“I mean-is that bad? Flying makes me feel free. Can you imagine how invincible those wings must make Sam feel? He looks like- like an angel when he’s up there with those”, Joaquin replied, his voice taking on a dreamy and fond tone.

You raised your eyes to look at him and gave him a sweet yet pained smile, your chest constricting as you remembered the way Peter would talk about your dad.

“Yeah, he really does look amazing when he’s wearing the wings”, you agreed with Joaquin, your eyes welling up. You cleared your throat before asking Joaquin, “You told Sam about this?”

He pursed his lips, “Yeah…he’s testing me or somethin’. Says I’m not ready yet.”

He looked like a child who didn’t get his candy and you giggled at the look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Why is that funny…”, he grumbled.

“You remind me of someone, that’s all”, you admitted in between giggles.

Joaquin’s face relaxed, admiring your smile with a dopey look on his face and dared to ask, “Of who?”

Your giggles receded and a fond and nostalgic look passed your face, “His name is Peter. I think you’d get along well.”

“Peter…is he your friend or..”, Joaquin tried to ask casually, like it wouldn’t crush him if you said you were dating Peter.

Your face warmed and you sputtered, “He’s- yeah, I’m- I was friends with him.”

Joaquin tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Was? You guys don’t talk anymore?”

You scoffed in sarcasm, “Something like that. I had an episode a few months ago so I cut everyone off.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, (Nickname)”, Joaquin expressed sadly, not realising that he called you by your nickname.

You let out a small chuckle, “It’s alright, Jay.”

The look on Joaquin’s face was comical. He looked like he was buffering, face completely blank and eyes wide. You soon realised what you said and your eyes widened as well, your face heating up.

“I- uh”, you coughed lightly to get rid of the awkwardness, “we should order lunch”, you murmured and walked out of the room, your eyes shutting in embarrassment.

Joaquin stood there, his brain short circuiting at the fact that you just gave him a nickname and he loved it. And he wanted to hear you say it all the time.

-

“Should I tweak the green a bit or this one’s fine?”

You hummed. “Make it a lil’ darker. And go for the silver, looks good with the green.”

“Why not beige? Ooh or gold?”

“Do you wanna look like a certain God of Mischief?”

Joaquin made a face. “Yeah, nope. Silver it is.”

You smiled and took a bite from your sandwich.

“Soo…can I ask you somethin’?”, Joaquin asked, distracted, while working on his laptop.

You swallowed the bite and shrugged, “Sure.”

“So like, you can totally tell me to shut up-”

“Spit it out, flyboy.”

"Well- I've been thinking about it since Walker called you Midnight at the police station...Why'd you stop going out as that?"

You paused and swallowed nervously. Joaquin was about to back pedal when you responded, "Didn't see the point in going out to do that after...dad. Thought I'd stay alive for him and the life he fought so hard to give us, at least", you scoffed in a self-deprecating way before continuing, "Jokes on me because I was dead inside anyways. Didn't leave my room for weeks, didn't eat properly or sleep...cut off contact from everyone...Couldn't look at the suit without breaking down because it was the same thing I was wearing when he took his last breath", you sniffled and fiddled with your sandwich.

Joaquin looked at you with empathy and frowned.

"It's been lying around in my lab since then. Haven't bothered to repair it because-", your voice quieted down, "because if I change anything, then...then dad's touch will be gone."

Joaquin has experienced grief, not the kind where someone dies but the kind you experience when someone leaves your life. He doesn't know what it's like to be to be alive when the person you love the most has died- has ceased to exist. Yet, he felt his eyes well with tears and his heart break into a million pieces for you. Here you were, experiencing insurmountable amount of grief ever since you were a child and yet, you chose to be kind to people. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and protect you from everyone but for now, he settled with his shaky hand gently squeezing yours in support. You paused at the touch, electricity shooting up your arm.

"I could never imagine how you feel like. But, I just want you to know that I'm here for you. And so are Sam, Bucky and your family. You mean so much to so many people, (Name). You should be a little easy on yourself, this is your first time living life as well", he consoled you in a sweet voice and went to retract his hand before squeezing it once more, but you slowly turned yours to grasp his hand and squeezed it back, your gaze fixed on them.

Joaquin was so sure he'd stopped breathing. He subtly pressed his hand to his chest to check if his heart was still beating. You then looked up and gave him a shy smile, which he reciprocated, and both of you looked away, your faces warming up.

"Thank you, Joaquin", you whispered before slowly retracting your hand and cradling it on your lap. Joaquin flexed his hand in front him before closing it in a loose fist and rubbing his chest, "Anytime, (Name)", he responded in a quiet voice.

You cleared your throat and made an attempt to clear the tense atmosphere, "Don't think that just because I've been out of service for 6 months, means that I won’t body you during sparring."

Joaquin scoffed lightly, "Oh yeah, I'm sure you will."

You snapped your head to look at him, "What?"

"You were trained by a black widow, an archer, a god, a super soldier, a-" "Okay! Okay!", you laughed and slapped his hands. He laughed gleefully.

"You're an idiot, Jay", you jested. Joaquin just smiled dreamily and responded, "Sure", with a shrug.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling at him.

-

After you and Joaquin were finished with your lunch, Joaquin received a call from Sam saying that they were going to Madripoor with Zemo. You sucked in a breath at that name because you knew how bad things are in Madripoor. You had heard all about it from Steve and Natasha and had done your own research on it. Now that they were going to be accompanied by Zemo? There’s no way you’re going to let them go on this mission without any backup.

Joaquin was supposed to stay back because of his duties and before Sam could say anything you announced, "I'm coming with you two."

Joaquin snapped his head to look at you in worry and Sam immediately interjected, “No, you’re not. You’re gonna follow our instructions. Don’t be like that. That place is-” “Dangerous. I know, Sam. I know very well how bad things are in Madripoor. That’s why, I’m joining you guys. I can be of help. And, also, are you forgetting that the most wanted criminal in the world is with you guys?!", you argued.

Joaquin put a hand on your arm and tried to reason with you, "Hey, listen to Sam. Maybe there's-" "Joaquin, I know what I'm doing. Please", you cut him off in an agitated manner. Joaquin's face flashed with hurt before he straightened up and removed his hand from your arm. He stepped to the side to let you talk to Sam and tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in stomach.

"(Name)--look, we know Zemo is probably not the best person to be trusted-" "No shit" "-but he knows what he's doing. This is right in his bag", Sam tried to make you understand.

"Sam, I'm telling you, if you don't let me join you guys, I'm gonna reach there in any way. You know that", you replied seriously. Sam knew you were stubborn enough to be reckless and follow them across the world if you wanted to. Sam groaned loudly and you could just see the way he was pinching the bridge of nose between his fingers.

"Alright! Okay, you're coming. But you're staying with me and Bucky, at all times", he instructed in his soldier voice, as if you were his subordinate. You smirked in triumph, "Yes, sir."

Sam cut the call with a request to Joaquin to drop you off at this airport that was just a few miles away from the city and to make sure your gear was functioning and had trackers in them, incase something went wrong.

Ever since the call ended, Joaquin had become too quiet, not engaging in his usual chatter. He moved around the room silently, only speaking up if you asked him anything or if he wanted you to pass him something. It made you miss his idle talks so you finally broke and asked him, "Alright, what is it?"

"What is what?", he mumbled distractedly and focused on installing a tracker on your laptop.

"You've been way too quiet, flyboy. Thought you'd stopped breathing for a second", you chuckled. You saw his shoulders go up and down with the deep breath he took in, admiring the planes and muscles on his back.

"Don't worry about it", he replied shortly in a distant and clipped tone.

The smile wiped off your face so quick at his tone, you stood there staring at his back with a grimace. "Whoa, what happened there?"

He scoffed and went back to his room to retrieve some tools. You followed him, your steps rushed, "Dude, I asked you something. You're not going to ignore me like that", your tone offended.

He turned around abruptly and you stumbled against him, your chests almost touching. It would take a single step for you to reach his lips.

"Why are you going?", brown eyes stared intently at your face, trying to grasp your reaction, his jaw muscles twitching.

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him, almost losing your balance at how close he was and how you could see every single mole on his face from this angle. "What do you mean 'Why', Joaquin? They need help. I thought I made it very clear that I'd be going with them."

Joaquin scoffed in disbelief and folded his arms across his chest, his biceps straining, "You also said that you'd listen to them. You-- you basically blackmailed Sam that you'd follow them any way if they refuse!"

Your mouth fell open, "I'm not a child. Just because I said I'd listen to them, doesn't mean I'm gonna listen to how they're willingly going to enter the lion's den. I know Madripoor. It makes sense for me to join them-" "And what about you? If something happens to you there? You don't even have your suit, (Name)", Joaquin stressed.

You grimaced, "I can still fight without the suit, Torres. And why do you care so much?", questioning him sternly.

That shut him up real quick. He clenched his hands into tight fists and looked away from your narrowed eyes, clenching his jaw to stop himself from speaking further.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. If you don't wanna drop me, that's fine. I'll go alone", you announced with finality in your tone.

As you were about to call a cab, he spoke up again, "There's no need for that. Let's go", in a low tone and made his way out of the room to help carry your bags downstairs.

You watched him leave the room, your chest hurting with something that was dangerously inching closer to longing, once again. The way he was so close to you, the way your hands fit against each other, the way he worried about you, the way he was so curious of you and your life...it was too much. You didn't deserve it. The pressure against your chest and throat wouldn't go away, so you tried clearing your throat a few times and took a couple of deep breaths in, before heading out.

-

The cab ride was silent, Joaquin and you choosing to keep your distance. The tension was so thick, that you were sure even the driver was feeling it. You finally reached the port and saw a single private jet parked on it. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, you approached it, knowing damn well it wasn't one of your dad's. The look of confusion on Joaquin's face was an indicator that he was just as confused. "What the hell..", he muttered before the two of you noticed three figures approach the jet.

"Oh my god", you mumbled in disbelief.

Zemo was wearing an expensive fur collared coat with expensive sunglasses and Sam and Bucky were following him closely. You stared at Zemo behind your glasses in shock. You always forgot that he was a Baron, a fucking royalty himself. He greeted the aged butler with the classic European kisses before turning to look at you.

"Ah. The little Stark. It is an honor to meet you again", Zemo extended his hand and greeted you politely. Your mouth fell open and you looked at Sam and Bucky in exasperation, Joaquin pressing himself closer to you in protection, Sam and Bucky lowered their gazes in embarrassment.

"Dude, seriously?", you asked him with a shocked chuckle leaving your mouth. Zemo looked at everyone with a confused and oblivious look on his face, “What happened?”, he asked in that thick accent of his.

“Zemo, just—get inside. We’ll join you”, Bucky told Zemo in a bored manner. After Zemo boarded the plane, you turned to address Sam and Bucky.

“Wow. Hopping on our favourite criminal’s private jet like we’re going on a lovely vacation! Amazing!”, you sassed them and clapped your hands together.

Bucky let out a sigh, “Look. We don’t have any other option. His whole shtick is that he hates super soldiers. He has all these…contacts that can get to the lowest level and help us find out about the flagsmashers. We gotta do this if we don’t want to get caught up by Walker.”

“And why didn’t you ask me for help? Steve and Natasha were the ones who told me everything about madripoor, you know. Trust me, I know how bad it is. You guys will need backup”, you told them convincingly, Joaquin shifting in discomfort next to you.

Sam looked at you before letting out a sigh, “Okay. But if anything goes bad you pull back immediately, got it?”, his brown eyes staring at you in concern.

“Yes, Sam. I promise”, you reassured him sincerely. Sam nodded.

“Joaquin, you gotta report back to base and keep a track of us alongside the others. I’ll keep you updated”, Sam instructed Joaquin and patted his shoulder before boarding the jet. Bucky lingered around and smirked at you before joining Sam inside. You rolled your eyes and turned to face Joaquin, removing your sunglasses at the same time.

“See you in a minute?”, you squinted your eyes and gave him a tentative smile.

Joaquin let out a breathy chuckle and nodded his head. The way the sun was hitting his smooth skin, the chilly wind making his cheeks turn rosy, his radiant smile directed at you— all of it made your heart soar with joy and you couldn’t resist stepping closer and hugging him.

Your arms went around his back, you were slightly on your tippy toes and you settled your chin on his shoulder. You felt his body freeze, afraid that you’d pushed his boundaries you tried to pull back but his arms came around your waist and he hugged you close to him, his head leaning against your temple—you could smell the clean scent of his shampoo. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of content, him mirroring you and you felt yourself blush.

“Take care, Quino. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine”, you whispered against his ear.

Joaquin was sure he was going to faint. Not only were you hugging him willingly, but you had called him Quino—so softly, at that. He was so content to just stand here and feel your warm and soft body against him. He hugged you tighter and murmured close to your ear, “Please come back safely.”

You smiled and nodded against him before pulling back slowly, none of you wanting to separate from the other. You approached the stairs and waved at Joaquin for the last time, him waving back and giving you his best smile while watching you go in.

Joaquin’s chest felt hollow now that you were away from him and he wished he could go with you and give you as many hugs as you wanted. But he left with hope blooming in his heart, because you had finally started to open up to him.

As soon as you boarded, Sam and Bucky looked at you with a knowing look in their eyes, communicating that they had witnessed the entire scene with Joaquin and your face warmed up. You averted your gaze from them and chose to sit on the seat behind Sam, choosing to keep your distance from those two (+ Zemo) and decided to put on your headphones to listen to your playlist.

As the plane took off, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest, hating the fact that you had to leave Joaquin behind and hating the fact that you craved his touch and presence more than you liked to admit.

Part 7

-

AN: i promised more Joaquin and reader content and u shall get it! Pls like and reblog! ☺️

taglist: @og-baby-ob14 @parkersjoy @littlemsramirez

[dameronspector]

forget it — joaquín torres (marvel) !

⟢ synopsis. request: reuniting with ex!joaquín after his near death experience, but you’re the nurse assigned to his care after he gets out of surgery. you broke up a couple years ago because of your very demanding careers, and you don’t see him until you realize they put YOU on babysitting duty to nurse him back to health, yikes!

⟢ contains. spoilers for brave new world! joaquín torres x nurse!reader, so much angst you’re gonna want to block me!! mentions of death, blood, gore, possible inaccurate medical procedures (i am not a nurse idk how that works), open ending but it's honestly realistic and cute.

⟢ word count. 13.7k+

⟢ author’s note. i learned medical terms for this

You like to think that every decision you’ve made has shaped you into the best version of yourself.

A better student, a better nurse, a better person. You’ve spent years honing your skills, pushing yourself past limits, ensuring that when it matters most, you’ll be capable—prepared. You might not have superpowers, enhanced genes, or combat training, but you have your mind, your steady hands, your patience. That’s what makes a difference in the field you’ve chosen. That’s what saves lives.

And it’s paid off. You don’t work at just any hospital—you work at this one. A private facility that caters to soldiers, government agents, and the kind of people who make headlines when things go wrong. The kind of people who disappear into classified reports. The kind of people you don’t expect to see lying unconscious under your care.

But you love your job. You love the structure of it, the control. You love the fact that, in a world constantly spinning off its axis, you can still do something that makes sense. You have your patients, your colleagues, your friends, your family. You still go out when you can, still make time to shop, and still remember to water your plants. Life is steady. Good.

And yet—

There’s something missing.

It creeps in during the quiet moments, when the hospital halls are still, and the steady beep of a heart monitor is the only thing filling the silence. It lingers in the space between breaths, in the pause before you check a chart, in the phantom weight of something you can’t quite name. A presence that once was, or maybe never was, but should have been.

You have everything you’ve ever worked for. So why does it still feel like something’s missing?

You don’t let yourself dwell on it. It’s ridiculous. You have your health. You have your life.

And you know better than anyone how fragile both of those things can be.

You remind yourself of how lucky you are because you’ve seen the alternative too many times. Lives wrecked and ruined by things far beyond anyone’s control. You’ve watched the light fade from seven pairs of eyes. Seven people who didn’t make it. Seven moments that carved themselves into your memory, no matter how hard you try to forget.

You haven’t even been working for three years.

And yet—

You’d hate to see the day when someone you love is one of them.

The thought grips you too tightly, too suddenly, and you only realize you’ve been staring at your hands under the running faucet when the sound of your name cuts through the fog.

“Look what I made!”

You blink, water still rushing over your fingertips, skin already pruning. A slow exhale leaves you as you reach for the faucet, shutting off the tap. The chill lingers on your skin even as you tear a paper towel from the dispenser, crumpling in your damp grip as you turn.

Maria is sitting up in bed, dark eyes bright with excitement as she holds out a carefully folded piece of olive-green paper.

She beams at you, her small fingers cradling the delicate shape with a reverence that makes your heartache. It takes a second for recognition to click. An origami bird.

“What’s this?” you coo, stepping closer.

Maria is a few weeks shy of nine. She should be at home planning her birthday party, picking out a cake, laughing with friends. Instead, she’s here. Confined to this sterile room, surrounded by too-white walls and the soft beeping of machines monitoring the inexplicable changes in her body. She isn’t dying. But she isn’t getting better, either.

Exposure to some strange quantum disturbance in San Francisco had led to her transfer here, to Washington, under your care. Away from reporters, away from speculation, away from anyone who might pry too closely while the government tries to figure out what happened to her.

“It’s a bird. Like the one on TV.” She explains, her tiny fingers carefully adjusting the wings.

You glance at the television, expecting to see another nature documentary—the kind she’s grown fond of in the past few weeks. But when your eyes land on the screen, you freeze.

A news channel. A live interview. Captain America and the Falcon, still in their gear, standing at an Air Force base. The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen is a blur. Something about a mission. About another near disaster averted.

Falcon stands just behind Captain America, posture sharp, hands clasped loosely in front of him, expression serious but composed. His suit still bears the scuffs of combat, a faint tear along the armoured plating at his ribs. You wonder if it hurts. If he’s bleeding. If he even let anyone check.

A small huff leaves your lips before you can stop it.

You can’t remember the last time you saw him. Now, here he is again, on a screen in a hospital room, larger than life.

“You like superheroes, Maria?” You force a lighter tone, turning back to her, moving to check her monitors. It’s unnecessary—you already did this when you came in—but it gives your hands something to do.

“You like superheroes, Maria?” you ask, forcing a lighter tone as you move to check her monitors. It’s unnecessary—you already did this when you came in—but it gives your hands something to do.

“I love superheroes,” she exclaims, voice full of unshakable certainty.

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

She watches you closely, studying your face with a look that’s far too perceptive for someone her age. Then, after a beat—

“Who’s your favourite Avenger?”

You pretend to think about it. “Hmmm... I don’t know. Maybe... Hawkeye?”

Maria immediately groans, rolling her eyes so hard it nearly makes you laugh. “That’s so boring!” She throws her arms up in exasperation, nearly tugging her IV loose in the process.

“Hey, hey—“ you reach out, gently taking her hands, steadying her before she can do any real damage. “You’re really gonna judge me for that?”

“So boring,” she insists, her signature sass making an appearance. “My mom likes Thor because he has big muscles.”

You snort. “Wow. Okay. And what about you?”

Maria’s expression turns mischievous, blushing slightly as she glances back at the screen.

“The Falcon.”

The words land like a punch to the ribs.

You swallow hard, but the lump in your throat stays put. You should have seen it coming, the way she lit up at the sight of him on TV, but it still catches you off guard.

Because for Maria, it’s admiration.

For you, it’s something else entirely.

“He’s so cool,” you manage, your voice lighter than you feel. “I don’t think he’s an Avenger, though.”

Unless he is and you have missed that entire chapter of his life. A lot had happened in the last few years—you wouldn’t put it past him to just forget to mention something like that. Not that either of you were on speaking terms anyway.

Maria grins, a small, mischievous thing, and before you can move, she takes your hand in hers and presses something into your palm.

“Here.”

You glance down.

The bird.

You blink at the delicate folds of olive-green paper, the slight tilt of its wings. It’s small, fits perfectly in your hand, but somehow, it feels heavier than it should.

“You have it.”

You open your mouth—to tell her she should keep it, that it’s hers—but the words never leave your throat. The sincerity in her gaze keeps you quiet, so instead, you close your fingers carefully around the paper bird, holding it like something fragile.

“Thank you, Maria,” you say softly.

You still have the bird.

It sits on your nightstand even now, weeks later, its delicate folds untouched, a reminder of that small moment. Of Maria.

You hadn’t thought much about that conversation at the time. Maria’s gift had been sweet, and you had found it endearing—the kind of innocent kindness that children offered so easily.

It wasn’t every day you cared for someone so young in this hospital, and while that was a blessing, it didn’t make it any easier when that child was rolled in on a stretcher.

And it wasn’t until a week later that you remembered Maria’s words.

Not until you watched a familiar face get wheeled into the hospital.

You had heard about it first—on the news, in passing conversations between coworkers. Another mission. Another near-tragedy. Another casualty.

And then you saw it.

The frantic rush of bodies in the emergency bay. The whine of a helicopter’s rotor blades still echoing through the halls, rattling against the glass doors. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic burning your nose, mixing with the metallic tang of blood—so much blood, too much of it pooling beneath the stretcher, staining the floor, the sheets, the hands of every ER staff trying to keep him together.

Your coworkers moved fast, their voices sharp and urgent as they swarmed the broken, battered body like bees to a collapsing hive. You barely recognized him at first. His suit—scorched in places, torn in others—hung off him in tatters, the once-pristine armour dented and smeared with something dark.

His skin was pale—too pale.

His lips were slightly parted, chest rising and falling in short, uneven gasps like every breath cost him something.

The blur of medical jargon barely registered in your mind, words overlapping, breaking, reforming into pieces that didn’t quite fit together. But certain ones still made it through the haze, lodging themselves somewhere deep inside you, where they twisted like a knife.

“Heart palpitations—“

“Severe burns—“

“Broken arm—“

“Breath is weak—“

“We’re gonna need a defibrillator—“

“Won’t make it to the OR—“

Your heart stuttered.

You would’ve rather never seen Joaquín Torres again for the rest of your life than see him like this. Like that.

And after that, you were moving on autopilot.

The rest of the day blurred together, slipping through your fingers like sand. You went through the motions, nodding when spoken to, keeping your hands busy, but nothing really stuck. The only thing that did was time—how it crawled, stretched, and bled into itself.

One hour turned to two.

Two turned to four.

Four turned into a sharp, sickening pause.

You were just about to punch out for the night, car keys hanging loosely from your fingers when you heard it.

“His heart gave out. Medically dead for T-minus 30 seconds. Extra hands needed.”

You froze.

The words echoed, hollow and distant like they were being spoken underwater. A strange ringing had started in your ears. You weren’t sure if it was real or just something inside your own head—maybe both.

You had already been hesitant about leaving without checking in on him. You could’ve gone in. You had clearance. But you didn’t.

And now?

Now, you were hearing his heart gave out?

Your mind ran ahead of you, filling in the gaps before you could stop it—could almost hear the faint, dull whine of the machines, the inevitable, lifeless flatline.

The surgeon calling out the time of death.

Your own heart lurched violently in your chest.

Your feet were moving before you even made the decision, carrying you faster than you thought possible. You nearly crashed into the doors of the emergency wing, swiping your card into the OR viewing room, stumbling into the dimly lit space. Your breath came short, choppy, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Your eyes locked onto the glass.

And then—

“Clear!”

Joaquín’s body jerked violently, his back arching off the table before collapsing again.

From where you stood, you couldn’t see or hear the monitor. Couldn’t tell if there was a beat or if it was still that awful, empty silence.

“Clear!”

His body seized again, limbs convulsing before falling limp.

You flinched, a breath hitching painfully somewhere inside you.

The panic clawing up your ribs only loosened when you saw the doctors start to relax, their frantic movements easing back into precision. You watched, rooted to the spot, as they worked—saw the ventilator strapped tightly around Joaquín’s face, the way they were cutting into him, the deep burns covering his side.

But it didn’t feel like him.

He looked dead.

He looked so, so dead.

Your fingers dug into the ledge of the viewing window, knuckles white.

And suddenly you can remember the last time you saw him. A memory that grabs you like a vice.

He was so alive, and he was crying.

His eyes were red and bloodshot, but he wasn’t making a sound. Just staring at you, jaw clenched so tight you swore you could hear his teeth grind. His hands—warm, steady even in their trembling—gripped yours, his touch so familiar, so safe. His fingers curled around your palms like he could keep you here just by holding on tight enough. Like if he let go, he knew he would never get to touch you again.

His skin burned beneath your fingertips.

Like home.

But the warmth of him, the heat of his touch, it didn’t reach his eyes. And you knew—God, you knew—this was the last time.

The ring that sat on your finger was like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

You hadn’t even noticed the way your breath had started to shake, the way your shoulders had drawn in like you could shield yourself from what was coming. The weight of his forehead pressing against yours was the only thing keeping you grounded, the rise and fall of his chest meeting yours in a rhythm that was almost enough to trick you into believing, for just a second, that nothing had to change.

And then he pulled away.

It was slow like he was giving you time to stop him. Like he wanted you to stop him.

But neither of you moved.

His fingers ghosted over your left hand, tracing over the ring like he was committing the shape of it to memory. You swore his breath hitched when he touched it, but he didn’t hesitate. Not when he curled his fingers around the band. Not when he gave the gentlest, barely-there tug.

The metal slipped from your skin.

The absence was instant. A phantom weight. A missing limb.

Your breath stilled.

He turned it over in his palm once, twice, before slipping it into his pocket, the movement almost absentminded. Like he wasn’t crumbling apart inside. Like he wasn’t shattering this thing between you both with his own two hands.

And then you kissed him. And he kissed you back.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate. A broken thing—raw, aching, more plea than passion. His lips pressed to yours with the kind of hunger that tasted like regret, like grief, like goodbye. There was no hesitation when his fingers slid up to cradle your jaw, no distance between your bodies when he pulled you in, chests flush, like he was trying to fuse himself to you, trying to rewrite the ending of this moment with the press of his lips alone.

You tasted the salt of tears.

Yours or his, you couldn’t tell.

You felt his hands tremble when they skimmed over your skin. It hurt—fuck, it hurt—the way you knew neither of you wanted to pull away, but you would. You had to.

But you stayed. For a minute. For a breath. Lips lingering, foreheads pressed together, hands gripping tighter even as the seconds slipped away from you both.

He was the first to move.

The absence of his lips was instant—a cold, hollow thing. But he didn’t pull away entirely, not yet. His nose brushed against yours, his fingers curled at the back of your neck, like if he could just stay here for another second, one more second, maybe none of this had to be real.

Then, finally, painfully, he let go.

That kiss was one that lingered, burned, long after he was gone.

He was alive then. And so were you.

But when the door shut, a part of you had died.

And watching his body, motionless on that operating table, you thought maybe a part of him had, too.

It was hard to grieve someone who had never died.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been standing there, staring through the glass, until someone says your name.

Your body jolts, and when you spin around, you're surprised to find Sam Wilson standing a few feet away. His voice had been steady, but his eyes—God, his eyes—heavy with something unspoken, something worn. You wonder how long he’s been there. You think it must’ve been a while, judging by the exhaustion shadowing his face. The bags under his eyes aren’t just from one night of lost sleep.

You’ve met him plenty of times before—hell, you’ve had dinner with the guy on multiple occasions—but something about seeing him now, here, leaves you speechless. Maybe it’s because he’s not just Sam. He’s Captain America, the man Joaquín idolized. And he looks... helpless.

You feel your entire body tense. “Sir—“ Your voice cracks at the word, and you hate it.

Sam exhales, long and slow. “I was gonna call. I mean, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re still the kid’s emergency contact.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I just... I didn’t know what terms you guys were on. I know the breakup was pretty bad and...” He trails off, looking at you like he’s bracing for impact. “I didn’t know if you’d show up.”

“I…” You swallow thickly. You should say something. Anything. But you don’t know how to find the words.

“Were you working?”

You glance down at your scrubs as if you need to confirm it. “Yeah... I just... I heard about his heart, um... how long was he...?”

Sam hesitates. He doesn’t want to say it. But he does. “Two minutes.”

You suck in a breath, sharp and cold, and instinctively look back through the glass. Joaquín is still now, the chaos momentarily subdued. He’s always been restless, always in motion, a man who never seemed to sit still to save his life. And now he’s just... lying there. You feel nauseous.

You don’t know what to say. You think Sam doesn’t either.

“I’m sorry, kid.” His voice is hoarse. “I’m sorry. For Joaquín. I never meant for this to happen. I’m always telling him to be more careful, but you know how he is—”

Do you?

You don’t know how much someone can change in the time you and Joaquín have been apart. You think you still know him. You remember how he used to be—stubborn, hard-headed. Kind, too. Always quick with a response, always teasing. Always warm.

You don’t think you’re remembering him the way Sam asks you to.

“Um... sorry.” You blink, realizing how long you’ve been zoning out. You should say something more. Something meaningful. But your throat is tight, and your hands shake at your sides. Sam looks just as lost as you feel.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mutter, rubbing at your face. “Are you okay?”

Sam blinks. He looks genuinely surprised by the question. “Am I—? Are you okay?”

You nod too fast, stuffing your hands into your back pockets. The heart monitor beeps steadily in the background, grounding you in the moment. “Yeah, I just… You were out there too. Did you get hit? I can check for a concussion.”

Sam says your name, and the way he says it—soft, sad—makes your lip quiver. When he steps forward, you don’t resist. You meet him in the middle, letting him wrap his arms around you, his warmth solid and steady. You tuck your face into his chest, only realizing you’ve been crying when you see the darkened patches on his shirt. He smells like coffee, and—funnily enough—a little bit like Joaquín.

“I’m sorry, kid.” His voice is tight, thick. Like he’s been holding back his own grief for too long.

You hum under his hold. “It’s not your fault,” you say because you think it’s what he needs to hear. You don’t know what happened out there, don’t know who made what call, but Sam relaxes just a fraction at your words. You hug him back.

The hours bleed together after that. You sit with Sam in the waiting area, watching the surgery unfold from a distance. Neither of you leave for long—only to grab coffee, maybe splash cold water on your face—but you don’t sleep. Sam doesn’t either, even when you suggest it. He stays rooted to his chair, jaw clenched, watching the clock.

He doesn’t move until the surgery is almost finished, until the surgeon is finally stitching up Joaquín.

And even then, he stays put.

So do you.

It’s nice, in a way, sitting in this heavy, aching silence. You don’t know what you would’ve done if Sam wasn’t here. You don’t know what he would’ve done if you weren’t.

Sam seems to relax even more when a friend of his shows up—Bucky. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him in person before, but you recognize the way Sam’s shoulders loosen just slightly like something fragile inside him can take a break. Bucky nods at you, then at Sam, and without a word, he takes a seat next to him.

You don’t say anything either.

Because you don’t need to.

For the first time in hours, Sam exhales like he’s not carrying the world on his shoulders.

You leave only when he urges you to, though it takes less than a minute after Joaquín is sent out for recovery.

You barely remember the drive home. The world outside the hospital blurs past in streaks of streetlights and empty roads, your hands gripping the wheel just a little too tightly. Every red light feels longer than it should, every breath harder to take. By the time you step inside your apartment, exhaustion settles in your bones, but sleep never truly comes. You close your eyes and see glimpses of him—Joaquín on the operating table, still and silent in a way he never should be.

You wake up before the sun rises, restless, your body aching with the kind of fatigue that sleep can’t fix.

By the time you return to the hospital, it’s at a strange hour—too early for the day shift, too late for the night crew. The hospital is caught in that eerie in-between where the halls are too quiet, where the few people still moving about do so in hushed voices. The fluorescent lights overhead hum, stark and artificial against the pale blue of the walls.

You’re running on espresso shots and the growing pit in your stomach, a weight that presses heavier with every step.

Joaquín is here. You know that. You have known that for almost twenty-four hours now.

But the thought still makes your hands cold. It was easier when you didn’t know what State he was in, or what he was doing—if he was even in the country.

You don’t let yourself think too much about it. You go through the motions, moving from patient to patient, checking vitals, signing off charts, trying to push through the fog in your mind. It almost works—almost—until you step out of Maria’s room and spot Amanda, the Chief Nursing Officer, walking toward you.

She smiles, clipboard tucked under her arm, but there’s something in the way she looks at you. Something unreadable.

You can already feel the dread start to wrap itself around your ribs.

“Hey, how’s it going?” she asks, falling into step beside you.

“Good,” you reply automatically. “What’s up?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes your tablet, her fingers brushing against yours for just a second too long. You furrow your brows, taking it from her, but your stomach twists at the hesitance in her gaze.

“There’s been a bit of a change,” she finally says. “Kit’s taking over Nicholas now.”

That makes you pause.

You've been taking care of Nicholas for a little over a month, an older man who came back from the blip different, well… different was a nice way to put it.

“Oh?”

Amanda nods, opening a new file on your screen before watching you closely. “Here,” she says, passing you the updated patient file. “Your new assignment.”

You take the tablet, adjusting your grip as you glance down at the screen—only to feel the air sucked from your lungs.

Captain Joaquín Torres.

The name alone makes your heart lurch, when did he become a captain? But then your eyes drop to the image beneath it.

You freeze.

Joaquín, unconscious. His skin is bruised, his face pale under the harsh lighting of the hospital room. The ventilator is taped to his mouth, bandages covering his side where the burns must be. He looks… wrong.

Your stomach turns.

“Um.” You barely recognize your own voice. “I don’t think I can take this one.”

Amanda’s brows knit together. “Why not?”

“It’s…” You swallow, suddenly hyperaware of how dry your throat feels. “It’s a personal case.”

“I know.”

That makes you look up, and when you do, Amanda is already watching you with that same careful expression—understanding, but unwavering. “That’s why I’m assigning it to you,” she says, soft but firm.

You stare at her, trying to process the words.

“Familiar faces help in recovery,” Amanda says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Waking up to someone he knows might do him some good.”

Your grip tightens around the tablet, fingers pressing into the smooth surface as your pulse pounds in your ears.

“Not everyone gets shot out of the sky by the military and lives to tell the tale.”

She’s right. You know she’s right.

But Joaquín isn’t just anyone.

And it’s been a long time since you’ve been a familiar face.

Would he even want to wake up to you?

You don’t ask that. You don’t let yourself. Instead, you swallow around the knot in your throat and force a nod. “Okay.”

Amanda watches you for a moment, searching your face like she can see everything you’re trying to hide. Then, she squeezes your shoulder, her touch warm and grounding. “You got this.”

You wish you believed her.

You suck in your pride as Amanda walks away and your fingers tighten around the tablet as you glance down at Joaquín’s medical file, his name printed in bold letters at the top. You already know his blood type, his medical history, his baseline vitals—things you shouldn’t still remember but do anyway. It feels strange seeing them laid out so clinically like he’s just another patient.

Your thumb swipes down the screen, scanning through his injuries. Severe burns on the left side of his torso. A broken radius and a fractured humerus on his right arm. The notes estimate he’ll be unconscious for a few more days, maybe a week at most. The doctors don’t think it’ll be a long coma.

He might wake up anytime.

Your stomach twists.

The live security feed on the tablet shows a grainy, black-and-white image of him, still and silent in the hospital bed, wrapped in layers of bandages and hooked up to machines that beep in steady intervals. The sight of him like this, unmoving, is almost more unsettling than the injuries themselves.

The elevator ride to his floor feels endless, but when the doors finally slide open, the hallway ahead stretches on like something out of a dream—too long, too empty, too quiet. The soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead fills the silence, and your shoes barely make a sound against the polished tile.

You’ve never hesitated like this before. No patient has ever made your heart pound this hard before you’ve even stepped into their room.

You stop in front of the door, your ID card clutched tight between your fingers.

He is hurt, you remind yourself. A wounded soldier. He needs care. That’s all this is. Just do your job.

Your hand trembles slightly as you swipe your card for clearance, and for a second, your eyes flicker down—out of habit, maybe—toward your left hand. The ring is gone. Has been for a long time.

You press your lips together and push the door open.

The room smells like antiseptic and fresh flowers.

Your eyes find him instantly.

He’s barely recognizable beneath the layers of medical care—IV lines, gauze, the rigid brace securing his arm. But it’s still him. His curls have grown out, the longer strands curling over his forehead, though the sides are still neatly trimmed. His face is slack with unconsciousness, lips parted slightly as he breathes in slow, measured rhythms.

There’s already a small collection of bouquets on the bedside table, a mix of bright yellows and deep reds—he always liked bold colours. You know more will come, especially once his mother finds out what happened. You pity whoever has to make that phone call.

Your pulse is loud in your ears as you move toward the sink, washing your hands on autopilot before slipping on a pair of gloves. The scent of hospital soap clings to your skin even beneath the latex.

You set the tablet down and step to his bedside, the weight in your chest settling heavier now that you’re standing this close. You can see the damage now. The discoloration where the burns peak through the bandages, the bruises blooming beneath his skin. His arm rests stiffly in its brace, fingers curled loosely at his side.

You hesitate before touching him.

Then, with careful hands, you reach for the hem of his hospital gown, lifting it just enough to expose the bandages on his torso. The dressings are damp, already beginning to seep through.

Too gentle.

You’re taking too long, moving too carefully. This should be routine—cleaning, reapplying, monitoring for infection. But your hands linger a second too long over his skin, your fingers ghosting over the edge of a bandage before you force yourself to focus.

You work in silence, methodical but deliberate, peeling away the old dressings and replacing them with fresh ones. His chest rises and falls steadily beneath your hands, the only sign of life in his otherwise motionless body.

When you finish, you pull the blanket up to his chest, tucking it carefully around him.

You don’t leave right away.

You should. You have other patients to see, and other rounds to make. But you linger for a moment longer, just watching him.

Being here—being this close—feels like stepping into something half-forgotten. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to remember.

With a quiet exhale, you turn away, stripping off your gloves and tossing them in the bin before grabbing the tablet again.

This is just a job.

And you have work to do.

The next few days slip into a pattern—one you follow carefully, almost methodically, because routine is easier than thinking too much.

Joaquín remains unconscious, but his condition improves. You can see it in the subtle things: the way his breathing becomes steadier, how his colour starts to return beneath the bruising, how the tension in his features eases little by little. His body is still healing, but it’s doing what it’s supposed to—recovering, piece by piece.

Somewhere along the way, his mother and grandmother are flown in.

You make sure you’re nowhere near the hospital that day. You tell yourself it’s because you need the rest, that you’ve been pulling extra shifts, that you could use the break. But you know the truth.

You aren’t ready to face them.

You can barely bring yourself to stand in the same room as Joaquín, let alone look his mother in the eye. She always had a way of seeing right through you, of reading between the lines of what you said and what you didn’t. You don’t want to know what she’d find if she looked too closely now.

So you take a sick day. You ignore the tight feeling in your chest when you imagine them sitting at his bedside, his mother smoothing down his curls, his grandmother murmuring quiet prayers over him. You wonder if she blames you. If she thinks you should’ve been there when it happened. If she wonders why you’re here now, after all this time.

But you don’t ask. You don’t want the answer.

The next morning, when you step back into Joaquín’s room, there are more flowers.

The table beside his bed is overflowing now—bouquets of sunflowers, carnations, lilies, roses in every colour. Some are from coworkers, others from people you don’t recognize. A small card tucked between them catches your eye. You don’t pick it up, but you already know who it’s from.

His mother’s handwriting is easy to recognize.

A fresh wave of guilt washes over you, but you push it aside. You busy yourself with checking his IV, adjusting his blankets, making sure everything is in order. The steady beep of the heart monitor is the only sound in the room, save for the occasional rustling of flower petals when a breeze drifts through the open window.

Sam visits often.

He comes at random hours, able to bypass the strict visiting times the hospital has set up, sometimes lingering for only twenty minutes, sometimes staying for hours at a time. You catch glimpses of him in the security feed before you even enter the room—his tall frame slouched in the chair beside Joaquín’s bed, one ankle resting on his knee as he flips through a book.

He plays music sometimes, a quiet hum of familiar songs drifting through the room. You recognize the playlist—the same one Joaquín used to blast while working late, the one he’d force you to listen to whenever he got too excited about a new artist. It’s a mix of genres, the kind that shouldn’t work together but somehow do.

You pretend you don’t notice the way Sam watches you when you walk in, his eyes lingering like he’s waiting for you to say something. But he never pushes. He just nods, sometimes offering a small update about Joaquín’s family or a passing comment about work before settling back into his chair.

Neither of you talk about the fact that Joaquín still hasn’t woken up.

Instead, you go through the motions.

His burns are healing faster than you expected. The bandages come off, revealing raw, pink skin that will take time to fade. His arm is no longer suspended from the ceiling, the rigid brace replaced with a looser sling. His body is catching up with itself, putting itself back together the way it always does.

You try to keep the windows open as the sun sets later and the spring weather gets warmer, letting the sun come into the room. You hope it might bring back that golden tan to his skin.

The air in his room changes as the days go by. The tension shifts—subtle, but there.

The sun sets later now, casting golden light through the blinds in the evenings. You start leaving the windows cracked open, letting the spring breeze filter in, replacing the sterile scent of antiseptic with something softer.

It makes the room feel less like a hospital and more like something else. Something warmer.

But warmth can be deceptive.

Because the closer he gets to waking up, the more real this all becomes.

And you still don’t know what’s going to happen when he finally opens his eyes.

One day, while cleaning his burns, you notice something—something small, but enough to make your breath hitch.

The heart monitor.

The steady rhythm you’ve grown so used to suddenly shifts—just a faint change, barely noticeable, but it’s there. You freeze, your gloved hands hovering over his burned skin, waiting to see if it happens again. The beeping stabilizes after a moment, falling back into its familiar, constant pattern.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly through your nose.

Maybe it was nothing. A fluke. You’ve seen it happen before—small involuntary fluctuations that don’t mean anything. You force yourself to shake it off, to keep going.

But the moment your hands brush against his skin again, the heart monitor spikes.

This time, you see it. The sudden jump, the erratic beep, the undeniable reaction.

You pull back immediately, like you’ve been singed. Your heart lurches, panic flashing through you because—did you hurt him?

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you scan his face, searching for any sign of pain. His expression doesn’t change. His eyes remain closed, his body still. But the numbers on the monitor flicker with every beat of his heart, betraying what his body won’t show.

And then it hits you.

He feels it.

He’s not just lying there, unaware of the world around him. His body is reacting. It means he’s drifting, slipping from unconsciousness, slowly clawing his way back to waking.

Your chest tightens.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. What you should want.

You should be relieved.

But you’re not.

Because for all the times you’ve wished he’d open his eyes, you never stopped to think about what it would mean when he finally did.

What if the first thing he sees is you?

What if he looks at you and all you find in his face is resentment?

What if he asks why you’re here? Why you even bothered?

Your breath catches in your throat, torn between anticipation and fear. Your fingers curl into your palms, gloves crinkling under the pressure. You wait, holding yourself still, eyes locked on his face, waiting for the inevitable flutter of his eyelids, the slow, unfocused squint as he adjusts to the light.

But it never comes.

His breathing stays even, his lashes unmoving, his expression unchanging. His body is stirring, but his mind isn’t ready yet.

Your hands feel cold.

You force yourself to take a step back, creating distance—just in case. You reach for the tablet to record the change in his vitals, trying to make sense of what just happened, of what almost happened.

You practically jump out of your skin when a voice cuts through the hallway, sharp and frantic.

“¡Mija!”

Before you even see her, you feel her—Esperanza’s presence sweeping toward you like a storm, her heels clicking against the tile. The next thing you know, you’re wrapped in her arms, your face pressed against the soft fabric of her floral blouse, caught in a hug so tight it knocks the breath out of you.

“Mi amor, ¿cómo andas?” she asks, her voice thick with worry and affection.

You barely have a chance to respond, still stunned by the unexpected embrace. She smells the same—warm vanilla and roses, a scent so deeply tied to holiday dinners that it nearly knocks you off balance.

When she finally pulls back, she doesn’t let you go completely. Her hands clasp yours, fingers curling over your knuckles like she’s afraid to let you slip away again.

“Esperanza,” you manage, breathless.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, her lips pulling into a grin so familiar it makes your chest ache.

“What are you doing here? Visitors can’t be here for another hour,” you point out, grasping for something—anything—to ground yourself.

She waves a dismissive hand, scoffing like the very idea is ridiculous. “Ay, enough with that,” she chides. “When has that ever stopped me?”

And then she stops. Really looks at you.

Her expression softens, and suddenly, you're under a gaze so warm it makes your throat tighten.

“Wow, look at you, my dear. Hermosa,” she murmurs, shaking her head like she can’t believe it’s really you standing in front of her.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, flustered. “I look like a mess,” you correct, glancing down at yourself. You’re in scrubs, nearing the end of a long shift, and you know you must look exhausted. Especially after dealing with Maria throwing up glowing vomit all over you earlier today. There’s no way you look anything close to hermosa.

But Esperanza just smiles knowingly, squeezing your hands once before tugging you toward the chairs lining the hallway. She sits down, keeping her grip on you like she’s afraid you might disappear through her fingers if she lets go.

You follow, hesitating only slightly before settling into the seat beside her.

"It’s been so long," she says, her brows furrowing with something between disappointment and relief. "You haven’t called in months. I thought you were sick! Do you hate me?"

"I could never hate you," you say quickly, shaking your head, a little horrified she would ever think that.

And then she smacks your arm.

"Then why haven’t you answered my calls?" she scolds, her voice laced with exasperation. "Your mother tells me you moved away and what? I don’t hear a word from you?"

You blink. Your mind stutters at the revelation.

"Wait—" you pause, trying to piece it together. "My mom… and you? You’ve been talking?"

Esperanza gives you a look, like it should be obvious. "Of course," she huffs. "What, you thought just because you and Quino broke up, I was going to stop talking to my comadre?" She rolls her eyes like the very idea is ridiculous. "Por favor."

Your mouth goes dry.

Your mother and Joaquin’s mother—keeping in touch this entire time. Behind your back. Talking about you, probably about him, too.

Your stomach churns, and suddenly, there’s something heavy pressing against your ribs.

You open your mouth, but she’s already shaking her head.

"Oh, lo sé," she sighs, exasperated. "The dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. If it were up to me, you two would’ve been married by now. Given me a grandchild, too."

Your laugh comes out a little too flustered, a little too forced. You glance around the hallway, avoiding her gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart wrings at the thought.

"Yeah," you mutter because you don’t know what else to say.

Esperanza exhales, her posture softening. She lets go of one of your hands just to reach up and brush your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with the same gentle touch Joaquín used to.

The same way he always did when you were talking too much, or overthinking, or when he just wanted an excuse to touch you.

You let out a long, quiet sigh, blinking hard against the sudden sting in your eyes.

It’s too much.

Too much familiarity, too much of your old life creeping back in all at once. You don’t think you’ve gotten enough sleep to process any of it properly.

"Mija," she murmurs, her voice softer now, more careful. "I don’t care whether you and Quino are together or not. I loved having you around. I still want to have our little chats. You are like one of my own. And when he told me you broke up, I just…" she shakes her head, pressing her lips together like she doesn’t want to say it. "I hate that it took him getting hurt for us to talk again."

"Esperanza…" you start, but she just shakes her head again.

"I know, I know. Perdóname," she says, waving it off as she stands up. She smooths down the front of her dress and sighs. "It’s so good to see you again, mi amor. You keep taking good care of my son. I’ll be in the city for another week, so please—call me. Maybe we can get coffee."

Before you can respond, she scans her visitor’s pass on the key panel and walks into Joaquín’s room, disappearing behind the door without another word.

But she leaves the question hanging in the air, thick with nostalgia and something painfully close to longing.

And she leaves the scent of rosy perfume lingering in her wake.

You stare at the closed door, your heart thudding unevenly in your chest.

You should go. You need to go—your tablet is already beeping, pulling you back to reality, reminding you that there are other patients who need you, that there’s a crisis waiting for you three flights down.

Still, you hesitate for just a second longer, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat before finally turning away.

There’s no time to process this right now.

But you have a feeling that, no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to shake this conversation anytime soon.

Maria’s hand grips the IV pole tightly, her small fingers curling around the metal as she rolls it beside her, careful not to let the wheels catch on the tile. The fluorescent hospital lights cast a soft glow over her—too pale against her skin, too sterile—but despite it all, she beams.

You’ve never seen someone so excited just to walk.

But today is special. It’s her birthday.

She didn’t ask for much—just this. A chance to stretch her legs, to be somewhere other than her hospital room. Her parents had begged you to keep her busy while they decorated, slipping streamers and balloons inside the room like they could somehow make up for lost time.

Maria hadn’t argued. She had just grinned up at you when you asked if she wanted to go outside.

Now, she’s practically glowing, her feet sinking into the grass as you lead her through the small hospital garden.

She tips her head back, eyes fluttering closed as the breeze ruffles her hospital gown, lifting strands of hair from her shoulders. Pink cherry blossoms sway on the branches above, petals drifting onto the ground like delicate confetti.

"Did you know cherry blossoms only bloom for a few weeks?" you tell her.

Maria gasps. "Really?"

"Yep. It’s called hanami in Japan. People go outside just to watch them bloom."

Her eyes widen in pure delight. "That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. They should be watched. They’re so pretty."

You smile. "Yeah, they are."

For a moment, she just stands there, soaking it in. And you let her.

It’s one of those rare times when she doesn’t look like a patient. No tubes, no machines, no sterile smell of antiseptic—just a kid. A kid enjoying the sun, the air, the simple beauty of something fleeting.

She sighs, finally pulling herself away. "Okay. I’m ready to go back in."

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "Yeah. I don’t wanna get in trouble for being outside too long. It’s my birthday, but I think Nurse Kate would still yell at me."

"Yeah, probably," you say with a chuckle.

The hospital halls are quieter than usual, the usual hum of voices and distant beeping fading into soft background noise. Maria walks beside you, still clinging to her IV pole but with a bit more confidence in her steps.

She doesn’t drag her feet anymore. That’s new.

Her body is stronger than it was weeks ago—no more trembling hands, no more laboured breathing after short walks. It’s a victory, even if it’s small.

Maria suddenly gasps, gripping your arm and her feet skid against the floor. You barely have time to react before she jerks to a halt, her entire body going rigid, eyes locked on something ahead.

Her mouth falls open.

"The Falcon?!"

Your stomach drops.

"Maria—"

"The Falcon is here?!"

Before you can stop her, she takes off, darting toward the digital display outside one of the hospital rooms. The screen flickers with patient information, vitals, and medication logs—

Torres, Joaquín

Maria’s hands slap over her mouth. "Oh my God."

"Maria," you warn, but she’s already clambering onto one of the chairs lined against the wall, pressing her face to the glass window beside the door.

"Oh my God! It's him! It's really him!" She whirls around, panic-stricken. "Is he dead?"

You lurch forward. "What? No." Your hands instinctively find her waist, steadying her before she tips over. "He’s just sleeping."

"Can I go say hi?"

"No."

"It’s my birthday."

"Maria—"

"Please!"

You close your eyes, inhaling slowly.

This was not in your job description.

You glance at the window, frowning. You weren't supposed to let anyone into a patient’s room unless they were authorized. Especially not another patient. There were rules. Strict ones. The last thing you needed was for someone to get sick, for someone to get hurt, for someone to wake Joaquín up before he was ready—

But then you look at Maria.

She’s practically vibrating with excitement, hands clasped tightly like she’s holding back from bouncing on her toes—the youngest patient in the entire building. Wide-eyed and full of wonder, she’s looking at Joaquín because he’s a real-life superhero, someone she’s only ever seen in headlines and shaky phone recordings.

And Joaquín… Joaquín loves kids.

He always has.

You’ve seen it firsthand—the way he kneels when he talks to them, the way his face lights up whenever he makes one laugh, the way he always offers high-fives like it’s second nature. Even now, even unconscious, the thought of him being the reason behind Maria’s uncontainable joy tugs at something deep in your chest.

It feels like something he would want.

And maybe… maybe this is okay. Maybe this is good—a reminder that people out there care about him, even the ones who have never met him.

Still, you hesitate.

You’re comfortable taking care of him now.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

No more denial. No more excuses. No more pretending that seeing him like this—unmoving, caught somewhere between here and wherever his mind has drifted—doesn’t scare the hell out of you. You’ve accepted that you miss him, that you still... care for him, even after everything. But stepping into that room again—with Maria, of all people—feels like a step toward something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

Because Joaquín is here. So close. Close enough to reach out and touch, to whisper his name and wait for that slow, teasing smile to appear—the one he always gave you when you were being too serious. Close enough that you should feel relieved.

But he’s also impossibly far.

No teasing smiles. No dumb jokes. No knowing looks from across the room. Not even anger of having you near. Just silence. Just the faint rise and fall of his chest, the machines working to keep him stable.

For days, you’ve watched him. Sat beside him. Checked his vitals. Changed his bandages. Waited.

But then Maria looks up at you, eyes round and pleading.

"Okay," you exhale, already regretting it. "But you have to be really quiet so he doesn’t wake up, okay?"

She nods, lowering her voice, "Okay."

Maria is practically bouncing with excitement as you swipe your keycard and push open the door. Sunlight spills in through the half-drawn blinds, cutting warm streaks across the floor, across Joaquín’s blankets, across his still form. The midday hum of the hospital filters in from the hallway, muffled but present. The steady beeping of the monitors tracks his heart rate, a slow, even rhythm, while the IV beside him feeds a clear solution into his veins.

Maria tiptoes inside like she’s afraid of disturbing something sacred.

You don’t blame her.

Because up close, he looks even more unreachable. The bruises along his temple have faded from deep purple to a softer yellow-red, but the cuts on his face are healing. His lips are chapped. His hair is messy against the pillow, a sharp contrast to how put-together you remember him.

You move—more out of instinct than anything—because lingering in the doorway makes it worse. The small cart beside his bed is stocked with fresh bandages, antiseptic, gauze—everything you’ve used to help keep his wounds clean these past few weeks. Without thinking, you pick up his chart because you've forgotten your tablet, scanning the latest notes, his most recent vitals. Stable. No new concerns. No change.

Maria whispers something, but you don’t catch it.

You blink, glancing at her. "What?"

She’s staring at Joaquín, her small hands gripping the edge of his blanket like she’s afraid to touch him, but wants to.

“He’s even prettier up close,” she breathes.

Despite yourself, you smile. "Yeah? You think so?"

She nods seriously.

There’s something achingly familiar about the way she looks at him—like she’s trying to memorize him, like she’s afraid he might disappear if she blinks.

You know that feeling.

Because you’ve caught yourself staring at him the exact same way.

Like if you look long enough, you might commit him to memory all over again. Like you can make up for the lost time, for the time that has slipped through your fingers. You study him—not just the broad strokes of him, not just the familiarity of his face, but every little thing you’d forgotten during your time apart, the things that had slipped from your mind.

There is a faint stubble that’s started to grow along his jaw. And now you notice little moles dotting his skin, scattered in ways you don’t recognize from your memories or dreams of him—they were always focused on the bigger picture, the way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he loved you.

Now, it’s the details that root you to the present.

The soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the hospital blanket. The steady hum of the monitors. The warmth of his skin when you reach out, pressing two fingers to his wrist, feeling the familiar, comforting rhythm of his pulse beneath your touch.

You check his vitals—his heart rate is stable, his oxygen levels are good, and his IV fluids are running properly.

Maria exhales softly, still watching him, her voice quiet as a breath.

"I think he’s gonna be okay."

You let out a slow, measured breath, your thumb grazing over the back of Joaquín’s hand—just for a second, just enough to feel the warmth of him.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Me too."

It’s enough. For now.

Your fingers slip away from his, the warmth vanishing almost instantly, and you start to usher Maria back toward the door. But as you move, something shifts—so small, so quick, you almost think you imagined it.

Joaquín’s fingers twitch at his side, just as yours leave his.

Your heart stutters.

A rush of warmth blooms in your chest, something fragile and desperate, something that wants to hope, to believe that it means something. That he felt it.

Swallowing, you make a quick note on his chart, recording the small movement even though it could be nothing.

Even though it could be everything.

You exhale, trying to ground yourself, trying to shake off the way your heart is pounding now, loud and heavy in your ears. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Maria tugs at your sleeve, glancing up at you, her own expression somewhere between curiosity and uncertainty.

You force yourself to move. To turn away. To guide her toward the door, because whatever flicker of hope just sparked inside you is too fragile to hold.

But then—

A sound.

Low. Faint. Hoarse from weeks of silence.

Your name.

Spoken.

Maria gasps softly.

And you—you freeze.

The breath leaves your lungs in a sharp, startled exhale, and your fingers go rigid against the door handle. A slow, involuntary shiver runs down your spine, your pulse hammering against your ribs.

Did you imagine it?

You must have.

But then you feel it—Maria’s small fingers wrapping tightly around your hand, clutching at you with quiet urgency.

Because she heard it too.

Your name. A whisper, raw and barely there, but there.

And it came from him.

Joaquín.

The hospital room feels smaller now, charged with something delicate and terrifying all at once. The air thickens, pressing against your chest as you slowly—slowly—turn around, terrified that if you look, it’ll be gone.

That it was just a trick of your desperate mind.

But it’s not.

Because Joaquín’s fingers twitch again.

His brow furrows, lips parting slightly, throat working as he struggles to form a sound, his voice raw and unfamiliar after so many days of silence.

Maria gasps, gripping your sleeve, her excitement barely contained, but you don’t register it.

Because Joaquín’s eyes are fluttering open.

For a moment, he stares blankly at the ceiling, his chest rising in a shallow, uneven breath. His body remains rigid, like his muscles haven’t caught up with the fact that he’s conscious. There’s no immediate recognition in his gaze—just a hazy sort of confusion, as if he’s somewhere else entirely.

Then, he moves.

His fingers twitch against the sheets, then curl. His breath hitches. The faint beeping of the heart monitor quickens. His body tenses, his shoulders pulling in as if bracing for impact.

His gaze shifts—and lands on you.

The second your face comes into focus, his entire body jerks.

A sharp, ragged inhale drags through his chest. His pupils constrict. His hand flinches at his side, like he wants to reach for something—like he’s searching for something solid.

His breathing changes. It’s not just uneven anymore—it’s too fast, too shallow. The rise and fall of his chest is quick, erratic, his ribs barely expanding with each breath.

Then, a whisper, barely a breath—words spilling from his lips before he even realizes he’s speaking.

"Me morí."

The words repeat, over and over, almost like a prayer.

"Me morí. Me morí. Me morí."

His voice trembles. His fingers fist the blanket. Tears well in his eyes and slip down his temples, silent, unchecked.

Your heart lurches.

You move instinctively, stepping closer, hands steady even as your pulse pounds in your ears.

"Hey, hey," you soothe, voice low and careful, placing a gentle hand on his good shoulder. "It’s okay. You’re safe."

Joaquín flinches at the touch, his muscles twitching beneath your fingers. His head turns slightly, his gaze darting, frantic, searching—taking in the room, the medical equipment, the IV in his arm. You can tell his body wants to move, to fight, to run, military instincts kicking in. But he’s still weak, his limbs heavy, uncooperative.

His pulse pounds beneath your fingertips. Too fast. His whole body is reacting before his mind can catch up.

"Joaquín." You keep your voice steady, careful, like speaking too loudly might shatter him completely. "Can you hear me?"

His gaze snaps back to you.

Something flickers in his expression. Recognition.

His chest is still rising and falling too quickly, his hands still tremble against the sheets, but his shoulders drop just barely. Some of the tension bleeds away.

His lips part, but no sound comes out at first. His throat works through the effort.

Then, at last, a hoarse, broken whisper.

"Hi."

Your breath catches.

Your fingers twitch against his shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding you as much as you hope you’re grounding him. You press your palm there just a little longer, just to reassure yourself he’s real, that he’s awake.

"Hi," you whisper back.

His lashes flutter as he blinks at you, slow and deliberate, his eyes still wet with tears. Still searching. His gaze drifts over your face like he’s trying to map every detail back into his memory.

Like he’s afraid you might disappear.

"Hi," he says again, quieter this time.

Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat.

"Hi, Joaquín."

A slow, trembling exhale leaves his lips. His body sags into the pillow, exhaustion catching up to him all at once. His fingers unclench from the blanket, the tension in his muscles fading—but not entirely.

Because when you start to let go, when your fingers begin to lift from his shoulder, he twitches beneath your touch.

The hesitation is so subtle that you almost miss it—almost.

A flicker of something crosses his face, something unspoken, something aching. You worry he's hurting.

It reminds you of another time, a different moment in a different place. Years ago, Joaquín slouched in the passenger seat of your car, showing you his newly earned stitches after getting beat up by a Flag-Smasher, laughing through the pain while you frowned.

"You gotta stop scaring me like this."

"I’m trying, I swear."

You remember the way his eyes had softened in the dim streetlight, the way he had looked at you then. The way he kissed you to take your mind off of his pain—how neither of you had wanted to let go.

And now—now, as your fingers hover over his shoulder, as he doesn’t look away—it feels exactly the same.

Only this time he can't kiss you.

Only this time you can't wipe his tears away.

You force yourself to pull back, to let your fingers drift away, even as your hand aches to stay.

Joaquín swallows hard, blinking sluggishly as his gaze flickers to the IV in his arm, the monitors beside him, then back to you. His lips press together briefly as if he’s gathering himself before a rough, scratchy mutter escapes him.

"Ah, shit. I screwed up so bad."

The sound of his voice—dry, raspy, but carrying the faintest hint of that familiar humour—makes something in your chest crack wide open.

A breathy, wet laugh slips from your lips before you can stop it, and you quickly swipe at your eyes, shaking your head.

"I'm... I'm gonna go call a doctor, alright?"

Joaquín doesn’t say anything. He just watches you.

There’s something in his gaze—something unreadable, something too much. It makes your pulse stutter, makes your breath feel too shallow in your lungs.

You don’t give yourself time to process it.

Instead, you turn, pressing the call button for the doctor. "Come, Maria," you say, voice quieter than before.

Maria, who's gone strangely silent since Joaquín woke up, rushes to your side without hesitation. But she does nearly break her neck to keep looking back at him until you pull the door shut, sealing that moment away.

You exhale, resting your back against the wall for half a second longer than necessary before forcing yourself to move.

The doctor arrives quickly. You straighten up, rattling off Joaquín’s vitals, every detail you can remember—his initial reaction, his moment of panic, his response to stimuli, everything. The words come automatically, like muscle memory, like routine. You focus on that, on the familiar rhythm of procedure, handing off the responsibility to the doctor so she can begin running tests, checking his neurological responses, assessing how much damage—if any—his body has endured after so many days in forced stillness.

The weight of your exhaustion presses heavier against your shoulders as you upload his files to the system, sending them over before turning your attention back to Maria.

"You did good, Maria," you tell her softly as you lead her back to her room.

She just nods, but there’s something distant in her expression now.

You get it.

She’s just witnessed the moment. The one where everything changes.

It’s the moment where the panic stops being panic and turns into something else—something messier, something heavier.

It’s the moment where the question “what if he never wakes up?” turns into something just as terrifying:

“He’s awake. Now what?”

Her parents are waiting when you bring her back, and you don’t stay. You let them have that moment for her birthday, closing the door gently behind you before turning back into the hallway.

And then you’re alone.

For the first time in hours, in days, you’re alone with nothing to distract you.

Your hands are shaking. You hadn’t even noticed at first, but now you can’t not notice—the tremor in your fingers, the way your pulse hammers too fast against your ribs, the way your body suddenly doesn’t know what to do with itself now that you’re not running on pure adrenaline.

You sink into one of the chairs outside Joaquín’s room, bracing your elbows on your knees. The motion feels stiff, foreign—like your body isn’t quite yours anymore.

Your eyes sting.

Joaquín is awake. He’s awake.

He spoke. He looked at you. He recognized you. He remembered you.

You should feel relief. You should feel something good.

And yet.

It’s like coming up for air after being stuck underwater too long—except just as you’re about to take a full breath, it’s ripped away again.

Because now that he’s awake… he can speak to you.

He can react to what you say, to what you do.

Maybe he’ll ask for a different nurse. Maybe he’ll ask to be transferred to another hospital back in Miami or something. Maybe, when his voice isn’t so raw and broken, he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks about the fact that you were the one sitting by his bedside all this time.

And God, you don’t know if you can handle that.

You drag your hands down your face, pushing out a breath. You don’t have time for this.

The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway reminds you that Sam—or Joaquín’s mother—is bound to show up any minute now. The news will spread fast, and soon, his room will be filled with people who have been waiting for this moment, praying for this moment.

Shit.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second before forcing yourself up. You should be in the room right now with the doctor, checking over Joaquín’s vitals, taking actual notes instead of spiraling in the hallway. Get your shit together and do your job.

Your movements feel sluggish as you reach for your tablet, swiping your ID card at the door. The scanner beeps, and for a split second, you hesitate—your fingers still lingering on the door handle, your chest tight.

Then you force yourself to step inside.

The room is brighter now, bathed in soft afternoon light filtering through the window. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm glow, a stark contrast to the sterile white walls and the quiet hum of machines. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor is too steady, too real.

The doctor is already mid-assessment, having raised Joaquín’s bed into a slightly upright position as she runs through a neurological check-up.

Joaquín is watching you.

His dark eyes flicker to you the second you enter, and you feel it in your chest, hot and unrelenting.

You swallow hard, gripping your tablet like it’s a lifeline, and take your place near the doctor, prepared to focus on numbers and stats and anything else except the weight of that stare.

You wonder if you’ll get kicked out for distracting him.

"Oh, great, you’re back," the doctor says, breaking through the static in your brain. "Do you mind grabbing some water for Captain Torres? I’m just about done here. Everything looks good and healthy. He’s recovering well."

You nod, already moving before your thoughts can catch up. Autopilot. It’s the only thing keeping you grounded at this point.

Still, you feel it.

The way Joaquín’s gaze follows every single one of your movements, tracking you like you might disappear if he looks away.

You crouch, retrieving a bottle from the mini fridge, fingers twisting at the cap before stepping back toward the bed. That’s when it hits you—he can’t take it. His muscles are still sluggish, his coordination not quite there yet.

You pour some into a paper cup instead, stepping closer when the doctor gives a nod of approval. Joaquín doesn’t say anything.

The tremor in your hands is almost imperceptible, but you feel it when you lift the cup to his lips. The moment your fingers brush his skin, a muscle in his jaw tenses.

His heart monitor beside the bed jumps.

Your eyes snap to the screen, but the doctor catches it first.

"Interesting," she hums, her tone just teasing enough to send heat creeping up your neck. But she lets it go.

"So, Joaquín," she continues, "We’re gonna have to do some blood work tomorrow, just to make sure everything is alright internally. We’ll up your dose of painkillers now that you’re awake."

"Awesome," he mutters, voice scratchy but laced with dry sarcasm.

She smiles. "They’ll make you a little drowsy, which is normal, but we’ll need you to try and stay awake until sunset. Just to make sure you’re not slipping in and out of consciousness. But I doubt it."

Then she turns to you.

"I’ll let Amanda know he’s awake. But you did a good job—woke up sooner than we expected."

You blink, caught off guard by the compliment.

"Thanks."

"I’ll come back later for a check-up."

And then she leaves.

The door clicks shut, and there is a silence that follows.

You stand there, hands gripping the tablet against your chest, unsure of what to do. Well, you know what to do—your duty is clear. You should be checking his vitals, updating his chart, making sure he’s comfortable.

But that’s not what’s stopping you.

It’s him.

Awake. Looking at you.

Joaquín Torres, alive and conscious and blinking at you like he’s still trying to convince himself this isn’t just another fever dream.

His voice comes quiet, hoarse, a low grumble you barely hear over the rhythmic beeping of his heart monitor.

"You took care of me?"

Your breath catches.

It’s a simple question, but it knocks something loose in your chest. Because it’s him asking. Because he’s here to ask it.

You swallow, shifting on your feet. Your gaze flickers over him—not just the wounds, but all of him. The way the sunlight filters in through the window, warming the stark white of the sheets, reflecting in the deep brown of his eyes. He looks more alive now, and maybe it’s the light or the steady rise and fall of his chest, but for the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to believe it.

He’s here.

Breathing. Talking. Alive.

And yet—his dead face still haunts you.

The memory lingers in the corners of your mind, just out of reach but never truly gone. His stillness, the unnatural slack of his features, the too-loud silence of a body that had once been so full of energy, of life. The image is burned into your brain, playing over and over again like a cruel loop. The moment you thought you lost him.

The tears in his mother’s face.

The look of dread on Sam.

The guilt.

"Uh, yeah. I did."

Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Joaquín exhales, long and slow, as if processing your words. Then, he tries to smile.

It’s small, faint and unsteady like he isn’t quite sure how to do it yet. The corners of his lips curve, but there’s a hesitation in the movement, like his face isn’t used to the motion after so long.

Still, he tries.

And when his eyes meet yours again, your stomach twists, sinking deep like an anchor dropping into dark water.

"I… I know it’s just your job, but—" His voice falters, but his gaze doesn’t. "Thank you."

Right. Your job.

The words settle into your chest like a weight—familiar, suffocating.

Because you remember the last time he said that to you.

Your last fight.

Well—it wasn’t really a fight, was it?

Not the kind with screaming and shattered glass, not the kind where anger built up and spilled over, reckless and sharp. It was quieter than that. Heavier. Because in the end, it wasn’t about anger.

It was about exhaustion. About wanting so badly to hold on to each other but realizing, little by little, that neither of you had hands free to do it.

You had barely been sleeping.

Between overnight shifts at the hospital, classes, training, and trying to be the best nurse you could be, your time wasn’t your own. It belonged to the people who needed you—the patients, the emergencies, the long nights where your body ached and your mind ran on fumes.

And Joaquín?

He had thrown himself into working with Sam, into proving himself, into becoming something bigger. His missions got longer. The risks got greater. He was gone more often than he was home, and when he was home, he was bruised, exhausted, a shadow of himself trying to piece together the scraps of a normal life between deployments.

You tried to make it work. God, you tried.

You spent so much time missing each other—passing like ships in the night, phone calls that never lasted long enough, conversations cut short by a code blue or a mission call.

At first, you thought it was temporary. That one day, things would slow down. That eventually, you’d find a rhythm that let you breathe with each other again.

But that day never came.

Instead, the gaps between you grew wider.

The distance stretched, and stretched, and stretched—until one night, you were sitting across from each other, and you both knew.

"I can't do this anymore, Joaquín."

You had whispered it.

Not because you didn’t mean it, but because saying it any louder might have broken you.

He had looked at you, like he was waiting for you to take it back.

Like if he just held on long enough, you’d change your mind.

"I know... You know, I love you," he had said, low, firm, desperate.

And that had been the worst part.

Because love wasn’t the problem.

It had never been the problem.

It was everything else.

Your job. His job.

The nights spent apart, the exhaustion, the never-ending fear of opening your front door to a folded American Flag. You couldn’t stand watching him bleed.

And he couldn’t stand knowing that one day, you might not be there to stitch him back up. That was the last time he said it. "But it’s my job."

Like that was supposed to make it better.

But now, you’re standing in his hospital room, staring at proof that it never got better. Because you had left to protect yourself from seeing him hurt. And now you had seen him dead.

"Of course," you manage to say, wincing when you hear your voice break.

Joaquín hums softly, but his eyes don’t leave you. He’s looking for something in your face—like he’s searching through memories neither of you have spoken aloud in years.

But then, his gaze flickers away. Over to the table. To the mess of flowers stacked in unsteady vases, their petals bright in the afternoon sunlight. The kind of display that only happens when someone is lucky enough to wake up.

His brow creases. "How bad was it?"

You swallow, feeling something sharp lodge itself in your throat. "You were shot out of the sky by a missile."

His lips part. "Right."

"It was pretty fucking bad."

A beat.

"Right."

You don’t know what you were expecting. Some kind of reaction, some flicker of acknowledgment for the hell he’s put you through. But instead, he just takes it—like it’s another report, another piece of intel.

You hesitate, something bubbling up inside you. You can’t tell if it’s anger or sorrow. "You died."

The words hit the air, heavier than you expected.

Joaquín blinks, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. His fingers twitch against the blanket.

"I died?"

You nod, biting your cheek so hard you taste iron.

"Yeah," you force out. Your throat tightens. Don’t cry. Not in front of him. Not again. "Two minutes."

He’s staring at you now. Eyes wide. Disbelief creeps into the edges of his expression, but not enough—not enough for someone who actually understands what that means.

What it means to you.

"Oh."

You scoff. "Yeah. Oh."

Your laugh is brittle. Sharp around the edges. Because what else is there to say? Joaquín dies for two minutes, and you’ve spent days living inside them.

He exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

"God," he mutters. "Sam’s gonna be so mad at me."

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Because this wasn’t how you imagined seeing him again.

In your head, there were a million other ways this could have gone—maybe you’d run into each other in the future when you were older. When things had settled. When you’d moved on.

Maybe you’d both be married to other people.

The thought makes you sick. But this? This is so much worse.

"Do you, um, do you need anything else? Are you hungry?"

"No."

You nod, but you don’t believe him. Patients are usually peckish when they wake up—a sign of life returning to their bodies, a reassurance that things are moving forward. And while he’s not allowed solid foods for another twenty-four hours, you could bring him a smoothie, something light.

But if he really wants something, he can call you.

You tell yourself that as you turn toward the door.

"Can you stay?"

You linger because you didn’t expect it.

Because you kind of hoped he would ask.

Because he didn’t ask you to stay last time.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, gripping your tablet a little tighter, as if the tension in your body could be contained in that single movement.

"Yeah," you say softly. "I can stay."

You turn back to him, and Joaquín is already looking at you.

His eyes are pleading.

It takes everything in you not to break right there. To not spill over.

You force yourself to move, careful, measured steps toward the chair beside his bed. It feels like you’re wading through something thick, something unseen, like grief or memory or all the what-ifs you’ve tried to bury.

You sink into the chair slowly.

A strand of hair falls into Joaquín’s face as he leans back against the pillows, the bruising on his cheekbone catching the light just enough for you to hate it.

Your fingers twitch again. The urge to brush it back is unbearable. But you don't.

He exhales.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks suddenly.

You blink, caught off guard.

"Last night." you answer, almost automatically.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Not really."

A beat.

"Nightmares?"

"Something like that."

"Something on your mind?"

"Lots on my mind."

The words slip out easily, like an old habit. No walls. No defences. It’s like no time has passed at all, like the space between you hasn’t been filled with anger, regret, and time apart. Just raw, open honesty in the quiet of the room.

The weight that’s been crushing you for days feels a little lighter in the space between his questions and your answers. You exhale, and only then do you realize you’re holding back tears.

You wipe at your face absently, surprised to find wetness there. You hadn’t even known you were crying.

Joaquín shifts in the bed, his gaze sharpening. There’s concern in his eyes, guilt, and maybe something else—something deeper. He looks away, clearing his throat, as if trying to fight it.

"I hope it's not me you're worried about,"

"I'm always worried about you."

You glance away from him, pretending it’s nothing, but the words hang between you both, too heavy to ignore.

His breath catches, something in him faltering, and then you catch the slight, almost imperceptible way his fingers curl into the sheets. His ears are pink, the flush spreading down his neck. He’s always been terrible at hiding how he feels, and you’re helpless against it. You always have been.

You can’t look at him. You don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed him. How much you’ve been carrying around since the breakup. How much he’s haunted every quiet moment since you walked away.

"Joaquín," you start, tugging at the ring finger on your left hand, the absence of his name there like a wound you forgot was still open. "When they brought you in here—"

"I miss you."

Your chest tightens. "Joaquín—"

"It's true, I do." His voice is quiet, almost vulnerable. "I’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to you again, and I just…" His gaze drifts from yours, like he’s struggling to put it all together. "I couldn't get it out."

You swallow hard, feeling that familiar ache well up in you. “I miss you too. It’s been... it’s been really hard.”

"Yeah." He nods slowly, his voice softer now. "It has. But, you know, I’m the Falcon now. Can you believe that?" He chuckles, but it’s almost nervous, as if he’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to make you smile. "I work with Captain America. I’ve got big shoes to fill. I’ve got to show up, but this... this is all I’ve ever wanted, since I was a kid. I’ve got it now. But... there’s something missing."

You look at him, really look at him, seeing the difference in his eyes now—less brash, more tired but still so much the same. "Yeah. Yeah, I feel it too. It’s like a nagging feeling, right? No matter what we do, it’s there."

"Make me feel guilty." His lips curve into a faint smile, but it’s tired.

"Like I wanna vomit," you reply dryly, the familiar banter slipping back into place before you can stop it.

Joaquín’s eyes soften as he lets out a breath, and there’s an edge of regret in the way he says, “I’m sorry I left.”

Your heart aches at the words, and you feel the old wounds crack open. "I’m sorry I made you leave." You’re not sure whether you’re trying to make him feel better or punish him with your own guilt. Either way, it burns.

“No,” he says quickly, “It doesn’t work that way.”

"But it does," you insist, your voice soft but firm.

He presses his lips together, brow furrowed, as if trying to work through what you’ve just said. "I should’ve fought harder," he murmurs, voice cracking just slightly.

"Joaquín... c’mon. Let’s talk about this later, okay? You just woke up from a coma. I can’t be putting this much stress on your mind."

"But I wanna talk about it," he presses, desperate.

“I know, I do too,” you admit,

“Then let’s talk about it,” he says, leaning forward just a little.

"Rest first." You place a hand on his shoulder gently, urging him to lay back. “You’ve been through a lot. I can’t let you burn yourself out again.”

“I’ve been resting. Had the best nurse in the world take care of me,” he teases, trying to distract you with a smile.

You feel the tug in your chest at his words. "And I will still take care of you. But you need rest. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow," you confirm, trying to smile, to soothe the tension you’ve both built up.

"Will you still be here?"

You glance down at him, a familiar warmth flooding your chest at the sight of him so vulnerable, so human. "I’m not going anywhere. Will you still be here?"

His smile softens, a quiet promise in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[dameronspector]

safe ♡

[dameronspector]

posted this LATE happy valentines day from my goats

[dameronspector]

The way some of you will jump at the chance to try and hate on Sam is...... Troubling

[dameronspector]

it's funny to me that the entry level requirement for being a good captain america is that you have to be in love with Bucky Barnes and that's why john walker was a shit one

[dameronspector]

when marriage when divorce

[dameronspector]

bestie no, not children of divorce again please

let him have a husband

[dameronspector]

she gets it from her dads

[dameronspector]

la vie en rose

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.7k

la vie en rose: life in pink, seeing life through rose-colored glasses, a state of blissful happiness and optimism.

author's note: this was inspired by an ask that i received from an anon saying i should use my name on here as inspiration for a fic. i'm not sure if this is exactly what anon was hoping for but.. here's a fluffy piece about giving bucky flowers 💐💖

(this was so supposed to be a very short drabble i can't control myself)

warnings/tags: established relationship, thunderbolts era (does not contain spoilers, i haven't seen the movie yet lol), references to ca: brave new world, tooth rotting fluff, not explicit but as always mdni please ♡

bucky barnes masterlist • follow @flowersforbuckyfics for updates • dividers by @/strangergraphics 🫶🏻

"Honestly, I can hardly even tell that Sam and Ross came close to destroying this place just a few weeks ago.”

The early spring air is particularly cool this evening, causing you to keep a tight hold on Bucky's flesh arm for a little extra warmth. You always joke that he's your own personal space heater. You suppose that's one benefit of the serum in his veins – even when the wind is making you shiver, you can always count on him to feel as if he’s been sitting beside a fire for hours.

He notices your tightened hold on his arm and comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, holding it open for you to step into. You’re already wearing a cardigan, but with the sun now setting over the Tidal Basin, you know it’s only going to get chillier as it gets darker. So you shove your arms into the sleeves, letting him drop the warm leather that smells like him over your shoulders.

“I had just told Sam how excited you were to see the cherry blossom trees this year,” Bucky laughs, taking your hand in his once more as you resume your stroll beneath the millions of pink blossoms. “I guess he tried to leave a few still standing.”

You snort. “How considerate of him.”

You’re both being sarcastic, of course, but you do feel incredibly lucky to be able to see the gorgeous trees – and at their peak, too. Bucky had picked the perfect weekend for your little D.C. getaway. After cramming every historical monument and museum possible into the two day trip, it’s a nice change of pace to simply leisurely meander through the park with your arm in his. You think it’s the perfect way to end the weekend before flying back to New York early in the morning.

“Are they as beautiful as you remember them being?” He asks softly, glancing down at you.

This isn’t your first time experiencing D.C.’s cherry blossom trees, but the one and only other time you’ve seen them was ages ago, as a young child. You can vaguely recall the soft baby pink petals falling around you as you sprinted down the sidewalk by the water, but it’s been so long that it feels as if you’re now seeing them with brand new eyes.

“They’re even better,” you hum, looking up at all of the branches swaying in the breeze. “Then again, that might just be because I’m here with you.” You add with a nonchalant shrug.

He chuckles, unable to hide the blush that appears on the apples of his cheeks at your flirting. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together – if you compliment him, tease him, flirt with him – he is bound to blush, his cheeks turning pinker than the flowers themselves.

You have to admit it – you like making him blush. You like that when he does, he smiles so big that it brings out the crinkles around his eyes. You like knowing that you’re the only person who can cause him this kind of physical reaction.

That’s when an idea pops into your head. It’s innocent enough – other than a couple walking with their two young children a few yards ahead of you, there’s no one else around – so it’s not like you’d be potentially embarrassing him.

You just think he’s really fucking cute when he blushes.

You pause your steps, pursing your lips to try to stop yourself from smirking. Bucky freezes, too, eyeing you with raised brows.

“What’s that look for?” He asks, his tone making it obvious that he knows you’re up to something.

“Wait right here,” you order him before pulling your arm away from his. You practically skip over to the nearest tree, reaching up to the lowest hanging branch that you can find. On your tiptoes, you delicately remove sprigs of the blossoms until you have enough to form a tiny bouquet.

You feel a little silly. You’ve never presented a guy with flowers before. But Bucky isn’t just any guy, and if any man has ever deserved flowers, you know that it’s him.

“I know it’s not quite as extravagant as the bouquet that you gave me on Valentine’s Day…” You hand him the tiny bouquet of pink flowers, thinking back to the ornate arrangement of wildflowers that he’d gifted you earlier this year. “But it’s the best I can do it at the moment.”

He opens his mouth in surprise, momentarily speechless as he accepts the flowers from you. Just as you had predicted, his cheeks begin to flush pink once more. This time brighter and more evident than before.

“For me? You shouldn't have.”

He selects one of the individual flowers and raises his hand to your head. You go still, not taking your eyes off of him as he places the stem behind your ear. You feel your own cheeks heat up at the intimate gesture.

“You know, I've always thought that pink looks pretty on you,” he tells you, moving his hand away from your ear and to your face. He cups the side of your cheek in his palm, then leans down far enough to lightly kiss your forehead.

The fleeting thought crosses your mind that it's a good thing that the walking trail for the cherry blossom trees isn't crowded this evening, because you and him are stopped right in the middle, taking your sweet time.

“We should get one, you know,” you say, nodding towards the tree closest to you. “A young one, so that we can plant it and watch it grow. We’ll have to get out of an apartment and find a place with a nice yard first, but…” You trail off in wishful thinking.

Bucky had terminated the lease to his own apartment early, choosing to move in with you. But the lease to your Brooklyn apartment will soon be up, too, and the two of you had started to have discussions about future living arrangements. Rent isn’t exactly cheap in downtown Brooklyn, and both of you long for something a bit more quiet and private.

“Whatever you want,” he murmurs. “We get out of the city and we’ll plant as many cherry trees as you want.”

One Year Later

The aroma of garlic and herbs in tonight’s dinner fills the entirety of your home from where it roasts in the oven.

For the tenth time in the last half hour, you glance at the clock while you finish washing the dishes that had been dirtied while prepping food.

It's not that you’re impatient – it’s just that Bucky is never late. Five or ten minutes, sometimes, sure. But never almost forty five minutes. He’d sent you a text only a few hours ago telling you that he’d be home at six o’clock, and the digital clock on the oven now reads 6:42.

You had tried to call him when you realized he was half an hour later, just to make sure that everything is alright, but his phone went straight to voicemail. You reminded yourself that he’s the worst at remembering to charge his phone, and that he is likely driving home and totally fine.

But despite how many times you’ve tried to assure yourself of this, you can’t stop yourself from pacing the kitchen floor or from glancing out the window at your driveway every other minute. You even opened said window and turned off the music you’d been listening to while preparing dinner so that you’d be able to hear the loud engine of his truck when he’s close to home.

Just when you’re about to click on his name in your call history again, you feel the familiar vibration of tires against gravel. By the time that you get to your kitchen window, his pick-up truck’s headlights are shining in the direction of the house. You exhale, relieved that you’d been overthinking. As you tend to do, when it comes to his safety.

You shove your feet into a pair of slippers, stepping outside to greet him from the front porch. Maybe it’s just residual nerves, but you instinctively lean against the bannister, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hops out of his truck and you immediately notice an expression of undeniable excitement on his face. It eases your lingering anxiety, knowing that he’s here and that he’s seemingly unharmed.

You just never fucking know with him.

“What’s got you so smiley?” You chuckle, walking down the few porch steps to greet him. He instantly opens his arms to you, and you practically jump off the last step into his embrace. Right away, you know that he’s been sparring with Sam. His t-shirt is slightly damp with perspiration and you can smell the freshly reapplied deodorant.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he murmurs in sincerity. “I was going to text you and but my phone is dead. Time got away from me during training with Sam and Joaquin…” he trails off, planting a kiss to your forehead. “And I may have had to make a quick stop somewhere on my way home.”

You pull back, looking at him quizzically. “Oh, yeah? Where’s that?”

He jerks his head in the direction of his truck with a mischievous grin. “Come and see for yourself.”

You follow him to the truck bed, your mouth immediately falling open at what lays inside.

“Is that--?”

“A baby cherry blossom tree?” He interrupts, clearly satisfied at successfully surprising you. “That it is. Stopped by the local plant nursery just to see if they happened to have any. This was the very last one.”

You’re silent. You recall the moment between you and Bucky beneath the cherry blossom trees in D.C. just a year ago, when he’d promised you as many of the trees as you like once you and him got a house with a nice yard, away from the city. You’d finally moved into your new house together just before the holidays, but between getting settled in, staying busy with work, and the weather simply being too cold to even be thinking about flower blossoms until recently, the conversation about getting a cherry tree of your own had completely slipped your mind.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his midsection again.

You feel the vibration radiate from his chest when he laughs.

“Of course I remember the first time a girl gave me flowers.”

thank you so much for reading 💖🫶🏻 as always comments and reblogs are very appreciated.

[dameronspector]

a little lew laugh compilation to brighten up your day 🩷☀️

x x x x

[dameronspector]

No way. My fic got recommended?? Oh my god. This is so?-!/! This is an honour. 😭🤍 thank you so much please im sooo happy to be here!!!

APRIL FANFICS RECS (2025)

[x reader]

Give this lovely people some love!!

......

♡ - smut

......

STEVE HARRINGTON (stranger things)

- Show-time♡ - @hungharrington - For a Good Time Call!♡ - @chestharrington summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away. - Obsessed - @keerysfreckles summary: the five most recent times dustin henderson has been a "cockblock" - (steve's words) during steve and y/n's relationship

CHO HYUN-JU (squidgame)

- My little artist - @sucodegoiaba88 summary: hyun-ju dating a reader who is very talented at art related things, and who undeniably uses her as their muse. - HEADCANON: Yours to taste. - @lesmiix summary: You LOVEEE to spoil your girlfriend with sweet desserts. - Love sewn into every stitch - @squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame summary: hyunju takes a strong liking to the hobby of sewing, and she makes you the cutest jacket

KLAUS BAUDELAIRE (asoue)

- Attention - @agaypanic summary: Klaus wants to read, Y/n wants attention. They have to come to a solution.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY (cod)

- ___ - @heavenbarnes thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you. - ___ - @amaranthinespirit husband!simon riley follows you around like a lost dog 24/7.

ROBERT FLOYD (top gun)

- Colbalt Eyes and Sweet Smiles - @withahappyrefrain summary: In which a certain shy, quiet WSO catches your attention one night. - The quiet ones - @callsigns-haze summary: You surprise the Dagger Squad by revealing your secret to Bob, who shyly but lovingly melts into your kiss as the others watch in shock, as shy guys are your type.

LUKE CASTELLAN (percy jackson)

- ___ - @too-deviant The three weeks it took for Luke Castellan’s wounds to heal. - Oh he looks so cute, wrapped around my finger! - @moneyndior - True luck's kiss - @atlabeth summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche? - The perils of love pt.1 pt.2(clarisse la rue endgame) - @rose-pearls summary: being in love with Luke seemed to be a bad idea as you realise that he doesn't seem to be interested. But as you get ready to move on from love entirely your father decides to appear and two people fall for you.

WILLIAM AFTON (fnaf)

@spr1ngbunnypvrin - Headcanon: William Calls You "Bunny - Silly Headcanon: A Day with Steve Raglan (a.k.a. William Afton) - 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞-𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 Headcanons - Sweet, Silly Coquette Moments w/ William Afton

FIVE HARGREEVES (tua)

- Affection - @awriterinthenight summary: Five has never been one for affection, but when it comes to you he does his best and loves to have you close.

MISTY QUIGLEY (yellowjackets)

- Dating Misty Quigley Headcanon - @bumblesimagines - Surviving The Wilderness (yellowjackets) - @wandas-darling summary: With how much effort you had put in trying to look after the group as the seasons start to change, you get dubbed the unofficial mom of the team.

WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

- Soft spot - @ajortga summary: the only thing wednesday can tolerate is you, and she feels something when she sees a side of you that is rarely shown.

DIN DJARIN (star wars)

- Pretend - @djarinmuse You have a sleep disorder, Din is helpful -The Experiment - @dameronspector summary: You test your new make-up on Din. But, in a unique way. - Sleepy time for papa and grogu - ^ summary: You help your favourite boys get adjusted in your new house. - Helmet Logic - @dinodaweeb summary: You ask Mando what would happen if you kissed his helmet. (Personal fave for this month💚)

JOEL MILLER (tlou)

- Stiches - @pedgito summary : You've patched up Joel countless times before, but this is different. - Have A Good NIght - @punkshort summary: Every week like clockwork, the same devastatingly handsome man comes into the grocery store where you work to buy flowers. It's not until he asks you out when you realize the flowers aren't for his wife or girlfriend. - ___ ♡- @daryltwdixon Joel Miller meeting your parents - Sunlight & sawdust masterlist - @pandapetals summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you... - ___ - @goldenlikedayl1ght cute joel miller flirting blurb - You came? You called. (feat. Sarah miller)- @cavillscurls - Baker!joel miller masterlist - @bibli0thecary In a world with no outbreak, Joel Miller runs a popular bakery—grumpy, flour-dusted, and way too serious about sourdough. His daughters, Sarah and Ellie, are either helping or causing chaos behind the counter.

PEDRO PASCAL

- Reunion Interview (platonic!)- @dumbbitchenergy17 Plot: A reunion of our two favorite actors following their crazy lives after the ending of the fan-favorite show: The Mandalorian - To Build a Home (platonic!) - @afictionaladventure16 summary: Your mother decides it is time for you to meet her boyfriend of six months, you are defensive at first, but you think you could get used to the idea of having this one around more often. - Until the end - @lazysoulwriter - Front row husband - ^ - Wearing her heart - ^ summary: Pedro Pascal is dating you — the most celebrated fashion designer at the moment — and he never shuts up about it. Whether it’s on a red carpet or in a talk show chair, he’s always in something you made, and he always makes sure the world knows it. It’s more than fashion. It’s devotion. - No takebacks - @unsuperingyournatural

xoxo

[dameronspector]

AAAA THANK U SWEETHEART😭🤍🤍 I can’t not make my readers have a backbone because I hateee someone who’s a pushover! And ofcourseee we had to save pops 🥹 he sdeserves to retire in peace! Thank you so much for your love im so happy you loved it 🫂🩵

Getaway Car (Part 3)

Pairing: Manny Alvarez x GN!Reader, Joel Miller x Platonic!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Summary: Manny stayed back, you saved Joel and safely returned to Jackson. He’d beg on his knees for forgiveness, but would you forgive him?

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort from Joel, Joel is a father to Reader, Reader misses Manny so much, Mentions of Depression and Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Death, Blood, Gore, Joel Miller Is Saved, Reader hates Abby and the group, Manny begs for forgiveness, reunions, domestic Manny, that’s all I think!

AN: mwah I love these two I love manny I love joel I love Tommy I love Ellie just..yeah 🩷 enjoy! This is the final part!

PS: I don't know anything about the game, my characterisation is based off the wiki information, the show and my own imagination. Plus, I headcanoned the QZ where they first met as Miami because that's Danny's hometown.

The more he thought of it, the more he knew that he wanted to stay back with you. He’d do what he had promised himself 5 years ago- beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

He raised his tear-filled eyes and looked at you, doting on Joel and Ellie. You had called her your sister. You had a family. And he’d be lying if he didn’t want to be a part of your family. He wanted you to love on him and care for him. Nora took one look at him and patted his shoulder, him turning around to hug her and Mel for the last time. “Take care of Abby. And…please, keep her away from (Name)”, Manny whispered in a pained voice. Nora offered him a terse nod and departed from him, leaving him to stare at you with longing in his eyes.

You didn’t notice the others leave. You didn’t notice Manny being the only one who didn’t leave. Your entire body was dialed onto Joel-all you could think of, was how to help him. You carefully straightened his body, making him lay on his back and he let out pained whimpers, hands tightening around Ellie’s.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I need to check your injuries, Joel”, you soothed him. Ellie was staring at him with her cheeks damp and face red due to her crying. “El, can you check if there’s a stick or something for his leg? We gotta-”

“Here.” You snapped your eyes up to look at-

“Manny?”, you whispered in disbelief. You noticed the way he swallowed and simply extended a broken table leg to tie around Joel’s injured knee. “Wrap this below his knee and straighten his leg, I’ll tie it up”, he mumbled to Ellie and got to work.

You stared at the scene in shock, Ellie’s face mirroring yours. He had stayed back.

“This is gonna hurt”, he warned you and you immediately went to ground Joel. You looked down at his bloody face, one of his eyes swollen shut.

“Hey, Joel? This is gonna hurt but we gotta do it to help you, okay?”, you gently cooed to him and held his hand tightly in yours, him responding in painful grunts.

Manny slowly straightened Joel’s leg and Joel screamed in agony, causing you to shut your eyes tightly and look away, Ellie doing the same and letting out a cry. Your body shook with sobs, Manny watching you closely, his heart hurting at that state of you. Directly or indirectly, he was the cause of your pain.

Finally, Joel stopped screaming and Manny announced that he was done. You brought your tearful eyes back to Joel and beckoned Ellie to come closer, her snuggling up to you and laying a hand on Joel’s chest- which was thankfully moving.

You brushed Joel’s damp hair away from his forehead and looked at Manny. “Thank you”, you managed to croak out, your eyes expressing your genuine gratitude for his help. Manny simply nodded his head and looked away towards Dina. “I’ll-I’ll help her. Do you wanna try calling someone for help?”, he offered in a careful tone.

You gave him a terse nod and he brought over the comm to you, his fingers brushing against yours. Your stomach flipped in excitement at feeling his touch after 5 long years.

-

After trying to radio Jesse for 20 minutes straight, the door to the room burst open and Jesse arrived on the scene. By now, Joel was just resting his eyes, exhausted from the blood loss and everything. You and Ellie kept a vigilant eye on him. Manny stayed by Dina, trying to keep her warm by shifting her near the fire while occasionally darting his eyes to you.

His chest hurt at how heartbreakingly beautiful you looked. He missed seeing you in front of him.

Your head snapped towards the sound, body deflating in relief at Jesse’s arrival. “Jesse-”, your voice broke off by another wave of tears. Jesse looked horrified but he masked it, not wanting to freak you or Ellie out.

“It’s okay, we’re going home now. Come on”, he soothed you and helped you and Ellie up, you held onto his arms tightly.

Manny’s stomach twisted in jealousy.

“Where’s Dina-”, Jesse questioned and turned to look around the room before his eyes fell on Manny and Dina. “Who are you?”, he asked Manny sharply, eyes assessing him.

You grabbed Jesse’s arm, “I know him, it’s alright. You two, help Joel. We need to find something that will make it easier for him and us to travel. Ellie and I will help Dina, go”, you reassured him before making your way to Dina. Manny looked at you and nodded his head in understanding, making his way over to help Joel and Jesse.

-

After finding a sledge somewhere deep inside a closet and strapping Joel in, the five of you made your way back to Jackson. The blizzard was over now, thankfully, and your horses could walk properly again, which helped you reach Jackson earlier.

Because Manny didn’t have a horse, he had to sit behind you and you were trying your best not to lean against his body heat, his hands twitching to hold your waist and bring you closer to his chest. The whole ride back to Jackson had your body tense and stiff, trying to maintain a safe distance from Manny.

You reached Jackson and almost fell off the horse. The town looked like it had endured a massacre.

The gate was broken down, a pile of infected bodies lying on top of each other in front of it, the wall was completely destroyed, smoke and ash curling in the air, a few living fires making the snow melt and the roads slippery. The insides were just as bad-- houses and shops were broken down, bodies of your fellow townspeople lying around, some of them being executed because they were bitten and in between all of that was Tommy, trying to help the fallen. He had a cut on his face, eyebrows deeply furrowed, face contorted in stress and eyes shining with tears.

Your chest twisted in pain at the sight of your home being torn apart like this. You hurriedly got off Max and ran towards Tommy—Jesse and Manny staying back to help Ellie, Dina and Joel.

"Tommy!", you cried out and ran towards him. Tommy snapped his head up and his face contorted in relief at seeing all of you return, though he couldn't help but notice Joel's absence, his heart skipping a beat.

"Oh, thank Christ, you're all okay", he breathed out and brought you in a bone crushing hug. You hugged him just as tight, your face smushed against his shoulder and eyes shut tightly.

Tommy broke the hug and held you at arms length, eyes searching behind you, "Where's Joel, Kid?", he asked breathlessly.

Your eyes filled up with tears and you managed to choke out, "Later, we need to treat him first. What happened here, Tom?"

Tommy inhaled sharply and shook his head, "Horde attack. Broke down the wall so we had to flame 'em- hence the fires. Destroyed all the buildings and shit." Your eyes widened at that.

"Get Joel to the clinic. I'll meet you there soon", Tommy instructed you and you departed with a terse nod. You made your way back to where Jesse and Manny stood and helped them pull Joel towards the clinic meanwhile Ellie helped escort Dina.

They took in Joel immediately after looking at the state he was in. You let out an exhausted sigh and crumpled down on the corridor floor, burying your head in your hands. You were running on pure adrenaline for the past few hours, not getting a chance to properly come to terms with what had happened and now that you closed your eyes, all you could see was Joel's bloody face and the way he screamed in pain.

You felt your breath hitch, chest constricting painfully and you groaned weakly, hands clawing at your chest to get rid of the feeling. In your panic, you didn't notice someone crouch down in front of you, their hands grabbing yours and putting them on their chest, near their heart.

"Breathe with me, c'mon", a voice called out to you, your brain fuzzily registering it. You felt their chest go up and down as they took big breaths to encourage you to do so. You managed to inhale shakily, letting the oxygen inflate your chest before letting it out. After doing this for 5 more times, the weight on your chest slowly disappeared and that's when you realised who helped you- Manny.

His brown eyes were looking at you in concern, a frown pulling at his lips and hands still holding yours against his chest. You stared at him blankly before snatching your hands away from his, getting up in the process. He followed behind closely, trying to get you to talk to him, "(Name)-", but you cut him off, not in the headspace to talk to him yet.

You still had to wrap your head around the fact that he was alive and breathing, and the fact that he had betrayed you even after you gave him a choice to not to.

"Don't. Not now", you stopped him from coming near with a hand extended towards him, swallowing thickly while your eyes focused on your shoes. Manny paused and squeezed his hands in a fist before reluctantly nodding his head and giving you space, his heart breaking apart in a million pieces at the distance between the two of you.

-

You've lost track of time by now. Spending your entire time helping the fallen and keeping track of Joel's health, your mind and body working like a machine. You were thankful for the distraction because it made you forgot about the fact that Manny was here, breathing the same air as you.

It's been almost 3 hours since they took Joel in. Tommy, Maria and Ellie joining you outside the room that he was being operated on. You hugged Maria as soon as you saw her, asking her if Benji was okay and she reassured you that he was. You breathed out in relief, glad that your family was alive, even though today will leave long lasting effects on their psyche and marks on their body as a reminder.

Maria left to check on the others and Tommy addressed you and Ellie in a serious tone, "What the hell happened out there?", you exchanged a nervous look with Ellie, who hadn't spoken much since you got here, choosing to stick by your side and observe everything silently.

"Tommy, they were Fireflies. Wanted to kill Joel for Salt Lake", you confessed quietly, Tommy's eyes widening in realization.

"Fuck", he whispered and ran a hand across his face. "They hurt you?", he asked curiously.

Joel had discussed about your past with Tommy in confidence before, not wanting to hide anything from his brother and so that a trustworthy person would be aware to keep you safe. Tommy took it better than you expected, with him being an Ex-Firefly himself, he understood your helplessness. Though, you still hadn't told Ellie, scared of her reaction and scared that it'll strain her and Joel's relationship further.

You shook your head no and Tommy asked you the dreaded question, "Who's the new guy?". You froze, unsure of how to explain to him about your situation with Manny.

You cleared your throat before confessing, "He uh-he was in the group. With me. And the others. We were...together before I came to Jackson", your voice shy and low. Tommy's face flashed with realization and he let out a sigh, understanding that this was a conversation to be had later.

"Alright, you guys get some rest. You're barely standin' straight", you opened your mouth to protest but Tommy stopped you, "I'll personally come to inform you if he wakes. Don't be so damn stubborn, go rest", he chided you, his southern drawl suddenly sounding stronger than before. You let out a huff of frustration and punched his arm lightly, walking away with Ellie bundled up in your arms. Tommy watched you go with a sad smile on his face.

-

You took Ellie home, putting her on strict bedrest and she went down with no protest, too tired to even argue with you. You decided to wash up, the events of the day taking a toll on you-your joints cracked and muscles spasmed with the smallest of movements.

After putting on fresh clothes, you decided to get yourself a glass of water, your throat parched and you heard a knock on the door. You let out a sigh and carried the glass of water with you to open the door. You almost dropped the glass.

"Hey", Manny greeted you hesitantly, his hands nervously stuffed inside his jacket's pockets. You gulped the water harshly before mumbling out a 'Hey' in response.

Nails tapping against the glass, you spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "How'd you find my house?", your eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Uh-I asked around...they said the house with the cherry blossom trees belongs to Joel, so, thought I'd find you here", Manny responded quietly and shrugged.

"Okay, did you need something?"

Manny looked at you in disbelief, "Need something? Angel, I haven't seen you in 5 years. I'm here for you", his voice cracking towards the end, eyebrows furrowed in distress.

You stiffened up before going back to put the glass on the coffee table and ushered Manny out of the house, closing the door behind you. Gesturing him to follow you towards the back of the house, you stood in front of him with your arms across your chest. You licked your lips and shook your head in frustration.

"Manny, why are you doing this now?", you asked him in an exhausted voice.

"I-I want to be with you, (Nickname). You have no idea how miserable I was-"

"No idea? No idea-", you scoffed in sarcasm and spread your arms out in exasperation, "I was the one who travelled alone to Jackson while feeling severely depressed because my boyfriend betrayed me for his- insane friends, and even after I found myself a family here, I still wanted to die because my mind wouldn't stop imagining said boyfriend here with me, and I'm the one who has no idea?", you rambled furiously, your eyes staring daggers at Manny.

He flinched at your outburst and turned his head to the side in shame, his neck shaded with a red tinge and veins popping out in strain.

"What do you know, huh? You had a whole group of people around you, catching you if you fall. I had no one. Even when I was with you, I was alone. You heard her, didn't you? That I was the odd one out?", you questioned him, leaning closer to make him look you in the eye.

Manny shot his head up at that, "No- don't say that, please. You weren't alone. I loved you then and I love you now. I just-", he broke off abruptly to swallow in guilt.

You grimaced, "You just what? You couldn't let go of your ego? Your desperation for vengeance and to prove that all of you are a strong unit? Even if you knew that Abby and her father were wrong?", you accused him, jabbing a finger into his chest. He stumbled back, his face crumpled in emotion, your harsh words hitting him straight into his heart.

"Yes, Yes! I was wrong, I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-I-I knew you were right from the moment you told you me, I knew we were wrong. I just- i was so blinded by the fact that someone had caused pain to one of my closest friends, I wanted to see him and Ellie suffer in the same way", he admitted shamefully, his face damp with tears and eyes bloodshot, hands clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles turned white.

You stared at him in disgust, "Manny, are you hearing yourself? What happened to you? She was a little girl-a fucking child. Joel was saving his daughter and that's what made you guys lose your minds? Not the fact that your friend and her father were committing the murder of a child?!", you glowered, your voice hoarse, face heated in anger and your breathing laboured.

You were hyperventilating, years of pent up frustration and sadness pouring out of you.

Manny sensed this and tried to soothe you, "Baby, you're panicking, please-", he came closer to hold your elbows and you shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me! I'm-you broke my heart. It's like I never knew you. How can you be so...heartless? You even participated in- in the sick torture that Abby was inflicting on my---on my dad. How could you, Manny?", you cried out, your voice strained with sorrow and heartbreak.

Manny felt like someone had stabbed him 10 times into the chest. Hell, he'd prefer being stabbed over being the reason for your tears and pain, wishing he had died instead.

His face twisted in pain and he got down on his knees, his hands holding yours and pressing his forehead against them, "I didn't, I swear I didn't agree to that. None of us did. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, angel. But, I'm here now. I've left all that for good. I can't take anymore sleepless nights without you next to me. I want a home with you--a family, and I promise that I'll get better. If I don't, I'll happily die from your hands. Just-please. Give me one chance, please. I'll do anything you ask me to", he begged into your hands, pressing desperate kisses to them and his tears dampening them.

You were too tired to react to that, choosing to limply hold his hands and stare into the distance, thinking of what to do next.

Just as you were going to speak up, Tommy came rushing into the backyard and paused to stare at the scene. He schooled his face into a neutral expression and called out to you, "Kid, Joel's awake", he announced in a breathless voice.

You snapped out of your trance and looked at Tommy in surprise. He nodded at you and you dropped Manny's hands to run all the way to the clinic. Tommy stared Manny down, observing his kneeling form closely and went over to stand by him.

From the corner of his eyes, Manny caught sight of a hand extended in front of him and he hesitantly grabbed it before the man pulled him up.

He came face to face with a tall man, who looked like he could've been his brother in another life- they had the same features and the same hair. The man ran his gaze over Manny in judgement before speaking up, "Let's get you some food. Then, we have lots to discuss", he instructed in his heavy southern twang and patted Manny on the shoulder, firmly.

-

"Joel?", you called out softly, walking over to stand next to his bed. One of his eyes was still swollen shut, the cuts on his face stitched up and the blood cleaned from his face. His knee was wrapped and elevated to keep the pressure off from it and you knew Joel would complain about it.

But he was breathing, his good eye fluttering behind the lid and his fingers twitching. He let out a groan and licked his lips to get ride of the dry feeling on them, his good eye slowly opening to focus on you. "Hey, kiddo", he mumbled in a scratchy voice.

You smiled sadly and offered, "You want some water, Pops?". Joel grunted in annoyance before whispering a 'yes'. You cradled his head in your hands and helped him sip the water before he asked you to lay him back down.

"You scared us to death, Joel", you confessed in a wavering voice and pinched your nose between your fingers. Joel looked at you with a sad expression on his face and lifted a weak hand for you to hold. You looked at him with tears in your eyes and grasped his hand carefully in both of yours.

"Sorry", he murmured guiltily, his face twisting in pain and from the efforts to control his tears from falling. "Thank you for saving me", he shot you a small smile.

You chuckled lowly and patted his hand, your chin wobbling from the tears lodged in your throat. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before clearing your throat. "Did Ellie come to see you?", you asked him curiously and he nodded lightly.

"Yeah. Didn't say much but... held my hand", his voice cracked with emotion and he smiled tearfully.

Your eyes welled up with tears of happiness for Joel and you brushed his hair back. "That's good. Baby steps, yeah?", you encouraged him and he nodded in agreement.

The room was quiet for a moment before he spoke up, "The one who wrapped my leg...that your man?", he teased lightly.

You paused, eyes widened and you felt your cheeks warm up, "How the hell did you see him?!", you sputtered out in disbelief.

Joel let out a huffed laugh, "So, he is. Easy on the eyes, I'll give ya that."

You groaned in embarrassment, your hands covering your face, "You're so annoying, Miller."

He chuckled softly before wincing and you scolded him to shut up. "Ya'll talked it out?", he asked you, referring to your situation with Manny.

Your face turned glum, eyes focusing on a loose thread on your jacket, "He asked me to forgive him...on his knees and everything", you mumbled.

Joel's face expressed shock as best as it could with all the cuts and one less eye. "Damn...and what'd you say?"

"Blasted off on him. I was so frustrated and hurt and angry...I just...took it out on him."

"That's a good thing. Now that the anger is out of your system, ya'll can finally have a mature conversation", Joel comforted you in that fatherly manner that he always does.

You furrowed your brows, "I don't know what to do, Joel. I-I'm so hurt. But-"

"But you love him a lot and wanna stay with him."

You let out a big sigh, "Yeah. I waited so long...he deserves to live in peace, too", you confessed, your lips set in a frown.

"Then listen to your heart. We've all done bad things, Kid. Can't pick and choose who's the better one, not in this world, at least. If you're gettin' a chance at happiness...grab it and hold it close", Joel suggested, his voice coated with longing.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat sniffled, "Thank you", squeezing his hand in gratitude. Joel gave you a half smile and squeezed your hand back.

-

Ellie took over your place next to Joel and your stomach cramped in hunger, realising you haven't eaten anything since morning. As you made your way to the eating hall, your mind kept replaying the conversation you had with Manny.

His tearful face and desperate kisses against your hand almost broke you. You thought about what Joel said, that nobody in this world was good anymore. You've all done bad things to survive, Manny just happened to go a little more extreme. But, did he not deserve to live peacefully with you? Did you really want to see him suffer? Could you live without hearing his voice or feeling his touch again? The answer was a plain and simple No.

He was the one who saved you, he was the one who taught you how to survive in this fucked up world, and he was the one who protected you from the evil around you. Maybe, now was the time to allow him to slow down, to let him have some peace, to let him enjoy a hot cup of coffee on the porch of your own house, to let him have a good night's sleep, to give him another chance. Because you were always sure of one thing, you would forever hold a special place for Manny Alvarez in your heart.

You found him in the eating hall, holed up into a corner table with a plate of food in front of him but he wasn't eating. He was cradling his head in his hands, pulling at his hair and staring at the table. You know he was feeling overwhelmed, not used to so much commotion around him. After all, you had been like this too, on your first day in Jackson.

Tommy spotted you across the hall and gestured you over, leaning against the bar counter. He was looking at Manny the whole time.

"He's not eaten a single thing since I brought him here. Been starin' at the table for the past half hour", Tommy informed you lowly.

You sighed and looked at Manny with pitiful eyes. "I know. He's probably overstimulated."

Tommy looked at the yearning look on your face and chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. You looked at him in confusion.

"A damn apocalypse out there and we still got fools in love over'ere", Tommy teased you.

You groaned loudly and slapped his shoulder, "You and your brother think that you're comedians or something."

Tommy's chuckles receded and he nudged you, "Go talk to him." You looked at him and frowned, nodding weakly before making your way over to where Manny sat.

You silently slid in the seat in front of him and scooped up some soup in the spoon, holding it up before clearing your throat. Manny snapped his head up and froze. His curls were sticking in all directions, eyes and face red from all the crying he did and mouth agape, as if he was not expecting you to sit in front of him. He truly looked at you then, how you looked so stunning even after being so exhausted.

You shifted uncomfortably, "My arm is hurting, are you gonna eat or not?", you murmured and shifted the spoon closer to his mouth.

He finally moved then, leaning closer to the spoon and closing his mouth around it before gulping, his eyes still fixated on your face.

"I-" "No. Eat first, then we can talk for as long as you want to. Do you wanna eat somewhere else?"

Manny blinked in surprise at your offer and how you sounded much more calm now. He simply nodded his head and you got up to pack his food into containers, him following you around like a lost puppy.

-

You settled down on the outdoor seating in Joel's backyard and let Manny finish his serving. You missed seeing him like this- alive and whole- in front of you. After he was done, he finished the glass of water you had set down for him and awkwardly shifted in his seat, not sure what to expect.

"You sure you wanna stay here?", you asked him suddenly. He tilted his head like a puppy and his brown eyes widened. "Yes...I-I want to."

"I'm not forcing you, you're still free to walk away and go back to Seattle. I don't want you to be here just for the sake of me."

"No! No, (Name), I came here for you. I told you that before, and I mean it. Please, give me a chance. I wanna- I wanna live with you", he sputtered out.

You assessed him closely, "If you try anything while you're here, I wont hesitate to kill you, you know that right?", you threatened him casually. He nodded his head vehemently.

"And you'll make up for your mistakes? Be kind to my family?", he nodded his head yet again, "Yes, I swear", he conceded in a sincere voice.

"And-..if I give you a chance, you won't betray me again?", your voice broke and your eyes welled up.

Manny froze when he realised what you said, "Wait. You- Yes. Yes, a thousand times, yes. I promise, I'll make it up to you our whole life", his voice shook with emotion, hands itching to hold you in his arms.

"Okay", you sniffled and nodded in agreement. Manny let out a content sigh and whispered an 'okay'. He'd do everything and anything you'd ask him to win you back in his life.

-

Jackson, 2031

You woke up to the sound of muffled chatter from the street and the chirps of little birds. Warm sunlight was pouring through the curtains, bathing your bedroom in a shade of yellow. You then registered the heavy arm around your middle, the sunlight making it look like it was painted in gold, the skin smooth and soft.

The breaths hitting your neck tickled you slightly and you turned around to face him- your Manny- still sleeping soundly with his mouth slightly open, giving you a view of his crooked lower teeth that you adored. His clean shaven face was glowing, the tiny moles scattered across his face like constellations and his cropped curls appearing soft to the touch—making him look boyish.

It’s been a year since Manny won you back. He’s been working so hard on proving himself to you by helping around the community, making amends with Joel and Ellie, trying to leave behind his past and harmful tendencies behind. He was much more calmer now, less brash, slowing down and enjoying mundane domesticity with you.

Truthfully, he didn’t need to do much. All he had to do was be himself. You never fell out of love with him, just upset with how far he’d let himself stray. But, Manny was home now, sleeping in later and waking up by loving on you—his day starting and ending with worshipping you. He was still the same Manny when you were both 20 year olds- overprotective and fiercely loyal. Except now, he let you do patrols only with him, Joel, Ellie or Tommy as your partners.

Tommy and Joel had surprisingly taken him under their wings, teaching him construction work, encouraging him to help around in the community and utilising his shooting skills to protect Jackson Hole. They were impressed with how agile and what a graceful fighter he was.

They never missed a chance to tease you whenever you admired him working around the town. You’d act annoyed but deep down, your heart would be soaring with happiness to see your family accept Manny with open arms.

Although, Maria and Ellie were the last ones to come around. Maria got used to Manny a little earlier, as Benji was so enraptured with him that she came around quickly. Manny had taken it upon himself to teach Benji football and they would hang out day and night, the adorable sight making you cry always.

Ellie, on the other hand, she still held a slight grudge against him (rightfully so) so she maintained a safe distance from him. Manny confessed to you that she lowkey scared him and you had laughed at that, telling him that he should be scared of her.

Another person that held grudge against Manny was Jesse, for the way he handled Dina and you excused that too, but Manny and Jesse seemed to have a silly testosterone fight going on and you steered clear of it, not interested in it in any way. Dina kept Manny on his toes, annoying him like a younger sibling and it was so entertaining for you to watch him be grumpy around her.

The elder townsfolk absolutely adored Manny and you- the abuelas cooing over him while pinching his cheeks everytime he charmed them and spoke to them in Spanish, and taking you by your hands to their houses to feed you their homemade dishes. Manny always had a goofy smile by the time you returned home, enjoying the attention. And you laughed in adoration, loving the fact that you got to see that shy and bashful blush across his cheeks more and more often.

A shocking thing that happened to Manny— in the entirety of you knowing him, you’ve never seen him unsure, shy or hesitant about anything. That changed as soon as he stepped foot in Jackson and you saw it in the dining hall, with him sitting in the corner, away from everyone. In the beginning, he’d enter any room without turning on the light, forgetting that Jackson had electricity. You’d lightly come up behind him and turn it on, his body tensing and his face flushing with red when he realised it was you.

He’d jump around the loud noises, as Jackson would get rowdy during meal times or events, he even refused to sleep with his back to the door, wanting to stay vigilant and alert at all times. After spending your whole life looking over your shoulder, this was bound to happen and your heart broke for him, wanting to reassure and comfort him every time he felt like that. Watching him look at everything in child-like wonder made your chest hurt with love and the feeling of wanting to protect him forever.

“You’re thinking so loud”, he mumbled sleepily, arms tugging you closer to him. You blinked, smiling gently and cradled his cheek into your hand, caressing it with your thumb. “Good morning, Em”, you replied softly and pinched his cheek.

He flashed you his half-smile and slipped a hand under your shirt, pressing a kiss into your palm, “Mornin’, angel”, he finally opened his eyes and they shone like earthen pools in the sunlight. The urge to go back to sleep was strong, the bed sheets warm and comfy with your shared body heat, Manny’s body soft and sturdy against yours and his hand under your shirt gently rubbing your bare back. But you had to get up and start work or else Maria would be upset for the whole day.

“C’mon, we gotta get up, baby. You’ve got to help Joel with the restoration today.”

Manny grumbled and slid down to bury his head in your chest, legs trapping you against him. “No. 5 minutes more, please.”

“Manny…you know how Joel gets. He’ll do everything on his own even if his joints lock up. C’mon, let’s get to work”, you cooed at him and rubbed his back gently.

Joel was fully recovered now, but the doctors told you that his knee injury would give him chronic knee pain, which made sitting or standing for longer hours difficult for his aging body. Manny, Tommy and Jesse tried their best to take off the burden but Joel Miller was nothing if not stubborn. “You’ve to teach the kids as well, let’s go.”

Manny groaned, the sound vibrating against your chest, “Swear to god, you Millers stress me out on purpose”, and he squeezed your waist.

You giggled and slapped his back lightly before he propped himself up on an arm and admired you with doe eyes.

You shifted in unease, “Stop looking at me like that”, you mumbled and tried to close his eyes with your hand. He grabbed it and rested it on his chest.

“Hey, I’ve gotta make up for lost time. I missed seeing your beautiful face next to me for five years”, he replied in a quiet voice. You exchanged bashful smiles and he leaned in to press a loving kiss on your lips and murmured, “I love you”, against them.

You looked at him with your eyes shining in tears and jutted your bottom lip out. “I love you more, Em”, Manny giggled and squished your cheeks in between his fingers, your combined joyful laughter echoing in the still room of your own house— the house that you shared with Manny and would be sharing until you were both greying and wrinkly.

Fin.

-

AN: AAAA im so happy for them pls…I love domestic Manny so much. Hope y’all liked this mini series 🥹🩷 please like and reblog!

taglist: @taylorsroxy @parkersjoy @aomi-recs @serendipity-29 @lucycarlisleswife @laurenjbb @onmyknees4kai @groovycass @spideybrie @yvonne-dump @monselxo @this-girl-is-tired

[dameronspector]

One thing about joel miller….hes gonna appreciate good taste!

Getaway Car (Part 3)

Pairing: Manny Alvarez x GN!Reader, Joel Miller x Platonic!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Summary: Manny stayed back, you saved Joel and safely returned to Jackson. He’d beg on his knees for forgiveness, but would you forgive him?

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort from Joel, Joel is a father to Reader, Reader misses Manny so much, Mentions of Depression and Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Death, Blood, Gore, Joel Miller Is Saved, Reader hates Abby and the group, Manny begs for forgiveness, reunions, domestic Manny, that’s all I think!

AN: mwah I love these two I love manny I love joel I love Tommy I love Ellie just..yeah 🩷 enjoy! This is the final part!

PS: I don't know anything about the game, my characterisation is based off the wiki information, the show and my own imagination. Plus, I headcanoned the QZ where they first met as Miami because that's Danny's hometown.

The more he thought of it, the more he knew that he wanted to stay back with you. He’d do what he had promised himself 5 years ago- beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

He raised his tear-filled eyes and looked at you, doting on Joel and Ellie. You had called her your sister. You had a family. And he’d be lying if he didn’t want to be a part of your family. He wanted you to love on him and care for him. Nora took one look at him and patted his shoulder, him turning around to hug her and Mel for the last time. “Take care of Abby. And…please, keep her away from (Name)”, Manny whispered in a pained voice. Nora offered him a terse nod and departed from him, leaving him to stare at you with longing in his eyes.

You didn’t notice the others leave. You didn’t notice Manny being the only one who didn’t leave. Your entire body was dialed onto Joel-all you could think of, was how to help him. You carefully straightened his body, making him lay on his back and he let out pained whimpers, hands tightening around Ellie’s.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I need to check your injuries, Joel”, you soothed him. Ellie was staring at him with her cheeks damp and face red due to her crying. “El, can you check if there’s a stick or something for his leg? We gotta-”

“Here.” You snapped your eyes up to look at-

“Manny?”, you whispered in disbelief. You noticed the way he swallowed and simply extended a broken table leg to tie around Joel’s injured knee. “Wrap this below his knee and straighten his leg, I’ll tie it up”, he mumbled to Ellie and got to work.

You stared at the scene in shock, Ellie’s face mirroring yours. He had stayed back.

“This is gonna hurt”, he warned you and you immediately went to ground Joel. You looked down at his bloody face, one of his eyes swollen shut.

“Hey, Joel? This is gonna hurt but we gotta do it to help you, okay?”, you gently cooed to him and held his hand tightly in yours, him responding in painful grunts.

Manny slowly straightened Joel’s leg and Joel screamed in agony, causing you to shut your eyes tightly and look away, Ellie doing the same and letting out a cry. Your body shook with sobs, Manny watching you closely, his heart hurting at that state of you. Directly or indirectly, he was the cause of your pain.

Finally, Joel stopped screaming and Manny announced that he was done. You brought your tearful eyes back to Joel and beckoned Ellie to come closer, her snuggling up to you and laying a hand on Joel’s chest- which was thankfully moving.

You brushed Joel’s damp hair away from his forehead and looked at Manny. “Thank you”, you managed to croak out, your eyes expressing your genuine gratitude for his help. Manny simply nodded his head and looked away towards Dina. “I’ll-I’ll help her. Do you wanna try calling someone for help?”, he offered in a careful tone.

You gave him a terse nod and he brought over the comm to you, his fingers brushing against yours. Your stomach flipped in excitement at feeling his touch after 5 long years.

-

After trying to radio Jesse for 20 minutes straight, the door to the room burst open and Jesse arrived on the scene. By now, Joel was just resting his eyes, exhausted from the blood loss and everything. You and Ellie kept a vigilant eye on him. Manny stayed by Dina, trying to keep her warm by shifting her near the fire while occasionally darting his eyes to you.

His chest hurt at how heartbreakingly beautiful you looked. He missed seeing you in front of him.

Your head snapped towards the sound, body deflating in relief at Jesse’s arrival. “Jesse-”, your voice broke off by another wave of tears. Jesse looked horrified but he masked it, not wanting to freak you or Ellie out.

“It’s okay, we’re going home now. Come on”, he soothed you and helped you and Ellie up, you held onto his arms tightly.

Manny’s stomach twisted in jealousy.

“Where’s Dina-”, Jesse questioned and turned to look around the room before his eyes fell on Manny and Dina. “Who are you?”, he asked Manny sharply, eyes assessing him.

You grabbed Jesse’s arm, “I know him, it’s alright. You two, help Joel. We need to find something that will make it easier for him and us to travel. Ellie and I will help Dina, go”, you reassured him before making your way to Dina. Manny looked at you and nodded his head in understanding, making his way over to help Joel and Jesse.

-

After finding a sledge somewhere deep inside a closet and strapping Joel in, the five of you made your way back to Jackson. The blizzard was over now, thankfully, and your horses could walk properly again, which helped you reach Jackson earlier.

Because Manny didn’t have a horse, he had to sit behind you and you were trying your best not to lean against his body heat, his hands twitching to hold your waist and bring you closer to his chest. The whole ride back to Jackson had your body tense and stiff, trying to maintain a safe distance from Manny.

You reached Jackson and almost fell off the horse. The town looked like it had endured a massacre.

The gate was broken down, a pile of infected bodies lying on top of each other in front of it, the wall was completely destroyed, smoke and ash curling in the air, a few living fires making the snow melt and the roads slippery. The insides were just as bad-- houses and shops were broken down, bodies of your fellow townspeople lying around, some of them being executed because they were bitten and in between all of that was Tommy, trying to help the fallen. He had a cut on his face, eyebrows deeply furrowed, face contorted in stress and eyes shining with tears.

Your chest twisted in pain at the sight of your home being torn apart like this. You hurriedly got off Max and ran towards Tommy—Jesse and Manny staying back to help Ellie, Dina and Joel.

"Tommy!", you cried out and ran towards him. Tommy snapped his head up and his face contorted in relief at seeing all of you return, though he couldn't help but notice Joel's absence, his heart skipping a beat.

"Oh, thank Christ, you're all okay", he breathed out and brought you in a bone crushing hug. You hugged him just as tight, your face smushed against his shoulder and eyes shut tightly.

Tommy broke the hug and held you at arms length, eyes searching behind you, "Where's Joel, Kid?", he asked breathlessly.

Your eyes filled up with tears and you managed to choke out, "Later, we need to treat him first. What happened here, Tom?"

Tommy inhaled sharply and shook his head, "Horde attack. Broke down the wall so we had to flame 'em- hence the fires. Destroyed all the buildings and shit." Your eyes widened at that.

"Get Joel to the clinic. I'll meet you there soon", Tommy instructed you and you departed with a terse nod. You made your way back to where Jesse and Manny stood and helped them pull Joel towards the clinic meanwhile Ellie helped escort Dina.

They took in Joel immediately after looking at the state he was in. You let out an exhausted sigh and crumpled down on the corridor floor, burying your head in your hands. You were running on pure adrenaline for the past few hours, not getting a chance to properly come to terms with what had happened and now that you closed your eyes, all you could see was Joel's bloody face and the way he screamed in pain.

You felt your breath hitch, chest constricting painfully and you groaned weakly, hands clawing at your chest to get rid of the feeling. In your panic, you didn't notice someone crouch down in front of you, their hands grabbing yours and putting them on their chest, near their heart.

"Breathe with me, c'mon", a voice called out to you, your brain fuzzily registering it. You felt their chest go up and down as they took big breaths to encourage you to do so. You managed to inhale shakily, letting the oxygen inflate your chest before letting it out. After doing this for 5 more times, the weight on your chest slowly disappeared and that's when you realised who helped you- Manny.

His brown eyes were looking at you in concern, a frown pulling at his lips and hands still holding yours against his chest. You stared at him blankly before snatching your hands away from his, getting up in the process. He followed behind closely, trying to get you to talk to him, "(Name)-", but you cut him off, not in the headspace to talk to him yet.

You still had to wrap your head around the fact that he was alive and breathing, and the fact that he had betrayed you even after you gave him a choice to not to.

"Don't. Not now", you stopped him from coming near with a hand extended towards him, swallowing thickly while your eyes focused on your shoes. Manny paused and squeezed his hands in a fist before reluctantly nodding his head and giving you space, his heart breaking apart in a million pieces at the distance between the two of you.

-

You've lost track of time by now. Spending your entire time helping the fallen and keeping track of Joel's health, your mind and body working like a machine. You were thankful for the distraction because it made you forgot about the fact that Manny was here, breathing the same air as you.

It's been almost 3 hours since they took Joel in. Tommy, Maria and Ellie joining you outside the room that he was being operated on. You hugged Maria as soon as you saw her, asking her if Benji was okay and she reassured you that he was. You breathed out in relief, glad that your family was alive, even though today will leave long lasting effects on their psyche and marks on their body as a reminder.

Maria left to check on the others and Tommy addressed you and Ellie in a serious tone, "What the hell happened out there?", you exchanged a nervous look with Ellie, who hadn't spoken much since you got here, choosing to stick by your side and observe everything silently.

"Tommy, they were Fireflies. Wanted to kill Joel for Salt Lake", you confessed quietly, Tommy's eyes widening in realization.

"Fuck", he whispered and ran a hand across his face. "They hurt you?", he asked curiously.

Joel had discussed about your past with Tommy in confidence before, not wanting to hide anything from his brother and so that a trustworthy person would be aware to keep you safe. Tommy took it better than you expected, with him being an Ex-Firefly himself, he understood your helplessness. Though, you still hadn't told Ellie, scared of her reaction and scared that it'll strain her and Joel's relationship further.

You shook your head no and Tommy asked you the dreaded question, "Who's the new guy?". You froze, unsure of how to explain to him about your situation with Manny.

You cleared your throat before confessing, "He uh-he was in the group. With me. And the others. We were...together before I came to Jackson", your voice shy and low. Tommy's face flashed with realization and he let out a sigh, understanding that this was a conversation to be had later.

"Alright, you guys get some rest. You're barely standin' straight", you opened your mouth to protest but Tommy stopped you, "I'll personally come to inform you if he wakes. Don't be so damn stubborn, go rest", he chided you, his southern drawl suddenly sounding stronger than before. You let out a huff of frustration and punched his arm lightly, walking away with Ellie bundled up in your arms. Tommy watched you go with a sad smile on his face.

-

You took Ellie home, putting her on strict bedrest and she went down with no protest, too tired to even argue with you. You decided to wash up, the events of the day taking a toll on you-your joints cracked and muscles spasmed with the smallest of movements.

After putting on fresh clothes, you decided to get yourself a glass of water, your throat parched and you heard a knock on the door. You let out a sigh and carried the glass of water with you to open the door. You almost dropped the glass.

"Hey", Manny greeted you hesitantly, his hands nervously stuffed inside his jacket's pockets. You gulped the water harshly before mumbling out a 'Hey' in response.

Nails tapping against the glass, you spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "How'd you find my house?", your eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Uh-I asked around...they said the house with the cherry blossom trees belongs to Joel, so, thought I'd find you here", Manny responded quietly and shrugged.

"Okay, did you need something?"

Manny looked at you in disbelief, "Need something? Angel, I haven't seen you in 5 years. I'm here for you", his voice cracking towards the end, eyebrows furrowed in distress.

You stiffened up before going back to put the glass on the coffee table and ushered Manny out of the house, closing the door behind you. Gesturing him to follow you towards the back of the house, you stood in front of him with your arms across your chest. You licked your lips and shook your head in frustration.

"Manny, why are you doing this now?", you asked him in an exhausted voice.

"I-I want to be with you, (Nickname). You have no idea how miserable I was-"

"No idea? No idea-", you scoffed in sarcasm and spread your arms out in exasperation, "I was the one who travelled alone to Jackson while feeling severely depressed because my boyfriend betrayed me for his- insane friends, and even after I found myself a family here, I still wanted to die because my mind wouldn't stop imagining said boyfriend here with me, and I'm the one who has no idea?", you rambled furiously, your eyes staring daggers at Manny.

He flinched at your outburst and turned his head to the side in shame, his neck shaded with a red tinge and veins popping out in strain.

"What do you know, huh? You had a whole group of people around you, catching you if you fall. I had no one. Even when I was with you, I was alone. You heard her, didn't you? That I was the odd one out?", you questioned him, leaning closer to make him look you in the eye.

Manny shot his head up at that, "No- don't say that, please. You weren't alone. I loved you then and I love you now. I just-", he broke off abruptly to swallow in guilt.

You grimaced, "You just what? You couldn't let go of your ego? Your desperation for vengeance and to prove that all of you are a strong unit? Even if you knew that Abby and her father were wrong?", you accused him, jabbing a finger into his chest. He stumbled back, his face crumpled in emotion, your harsh words hitting him straight into his heart.

"Yes, Yes! I was wrong, I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-I-I knew you were right from the moment you told you me, I knew we were wrong. I just- i was so blinded by the fact that someone had caused pain to one of my closest friends, I wanted to see him and Ellie suffer in the same way", he admitted shamefully, his face damp with tears and eyes bloodshot, hands clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles turned white.

You stared at him in disgust, "Manny, are you hearing yourself? What happened to you? She was a little girl-a fucking child. Joel was saving his daughter and that's what made you guys lose your minds? Not the fact that your friend and her father were committing the murder of a child?!", you glowered, your voice hoarse, face heated in anger and your breathing laboured.

You were hyperventilating, years of pent up frustration and sadness pouring out of you.

Manny sensed this and tried to soothe you, "Baby, you're panicking, please-", he came closer to hold your elbows and you shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me! I'm-you broke my heart. It's like I never knew you. How can you be so...heartless? You even participated in- in the sick torture that Abby was inflicting on my---on my dad. How could you, Manny?", you cried out, your voice strained with sorrow and heartbreak.

Manny felt like someone had stabbed him 10 times into the chest. Hell, he'd prefer being stabbed over being the reason for your tears and pain, wishing he had died instead.

His face twisted in pain and he got down on his knees, his hands holding yours and pressing his forehead against them, "I didn't, I swear I didn't agree to that. None of us did. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, angel. But, I'm here now. I've left all that for good. I can't take anymore sleepless nights without you next to me. I want a home with you--a family, and I promise that I'll get better. If I don't, I'll happily die from your hands. Just-please. Give me one chance, please. I'll do anything you ask me to", he begged into your hands, pressing desperate kisses to them and his tears dampening them.

You were too tired to react to that, choosing to limply hold his hands and stare into the distance, thinking of what to do next.

Just as you were going to speak up, Tommy came rushing into the backyard and paused to stare at the scene. He schooled his face into a neutral expression and called out to you, "Kid, Joel's awake", he announced in a breathless voice.

You snapped out of your trance and looked at Tommy in surprise. He nodded at you and you dropped Manny's hands to run all the way to the clinic. Tommy stared Manny down, observing his kneeling form closely and went over to stand by him.

From the corner of his eyes, Manny caught sight of a hand extended in front of him and he hesitantly grabbed it before the man pulled him up.

He came face to face with a tall man, who looked like he could've been his brother in another life- they had the same features and the same hair. The man ran his gaze over Manny in judgement before speaking up, "Let's get you some food. Then, we have lots to discuss", he instructed in his heavy southern twang and patted Manny on the shoulder, firmly.

-

"Joel?", you called out softly, walking over to stand next to his bed. One of his eyes was still swollen shut, the cuts on his face stitched up and the blood cleaned from his face. His knee was wrapped and elevated to keep the pressure off from it and you knew Joel would complain about it.

But he was breathing, his good eye fluttering behind the lid and his fingers twitching. He let out a groan and licked his lips to get ride of the dry feeling on them, his good eye slowly opening to focus on you. "Hey, kiddo", he mumbled in a scratchy voice.

You smiled sadly and offered, "You want some water, Pops?". Joel grunted in annoyance before whispering a 'yes'. You cradled his head in your hands and helped him sip the water before he asked you to lay him back down.

"You scared us to death, Joel", you confessed in a wavering voice and pinched your nose between your fingers. Joel looked at you with a sad expression on his face and lifted a weak hand for you to hold. You looked at him with tears in your eyes and grasped his hand carefully in both of yours.

"Sorry", he murmured guiltily, his face twisting in pain and from the efforts to control his tears from falling. "Thank you for saving me", he shot you a small smile.

You chuckled lowly and patted his hand, your chin wobbling from the tears lodged in your throat. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before clearing your throat. "Did Ellie come to see you?", you asked him curiously and he nodded lightly.

"Yeah. Didn't say much but... held my hand", his voice cracked with emotion and he smiled tearfully.

Your eyes welled up with tears of happiness for Joel and you brushed his hair back. "That's good. Baby steps, yeah?", you encouraged him and he nodded in agreement.

The room was quiet for a moment before he spoke up, "The one who wrapped my leg...that your man?", he teased lightly.

You paused, eyes widened and you felt your cheeks warm up, "How the hell did you see him?!", you sputtered out in disbelief.

Joel let out a huffed laugh, "So, he is. Easy on the eyes, I'll give ya that."

You groaned in embarrassment, your hands covering your face, "You're so annoying, Miller."

He chuckled softly before wincing and you scolded him to shut up. "Ya'll talked it out?", he asked you, referring to your situation with Manny.

Your face turned glum, eyes focusing on a loose thread on your jacket, "He asked me to forgive him...on his knees and everything", you mumbled.

Joel's face expressed shock as best as it could with all the cuts and one less eye. "Damn...and what'd you say?"

"Blasted off on him. I was so frustrated and hurt and angry...I just...took it out on him."

"That's a good thing. Now that the anger is out of your system, ya'll can finally have a mature conversation", Joel comforted you in that fatherly manner that he always does.

You furrowed your brows, "I don't know what to do, Joel. I-I'm so hurt. But-"

"But you love him a lot and wanna stay with him."

You let out a big sigh, "Yeah. I waited so long...he deserves to live in peace, too", you confessed, your lips set in a frown.

"Then listen to your heart. We've all done bad things, Kid. Can't pick and choose who's the better one, not in this world, at least. If you're gettin' a chance at happiness...grab it and hold it close", Joel suggested, his voice coated with longing.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat sniffled, "Thank you", squeezing his hand in gratitude. Joel gave you a half smile and squeezed your hand back.

-

Ellie took over your place next to Joel and your stomach cramped in hunger, realising you haven't eaten anything since morning. As you made your way to the eating hall, your mind kept replaying the conversation you had with Manny.

His tearful face and desperate kisses against your hand almost broke you. You thought about what Joel said, that nobody in this world was good anymore. You've all done bad things to survive, Manny just happened to go a little more extreme. But, did he not deserve to live peacefully with you? Did you really want to see him suffer? Could you live without hearing his voice or feeling his touch again? The answer was a plain and simple No.

He was the one who saved you, he was the one who taught you how to survive in this fucked up world, and he was the one who protected you from the evil around you. Maybe, now was the time to allow him to slow down, to let him have some peace, to let him enjoy a hot cup of coffee on the porch of your own house, to let him have a good night's sleep, to give him another chance. Because you were always sure of one thing, you would forever hold a special place for Manny Alvarez in your heart.

You found him in the eating hall, holed up into a corner table with a plate of food in front of him but he wasn't eating. He was cradling his head in his hands, pulling at his hair and staring at the table. You know he was feeling overwhelmed, not used to so much commotion around him. After all, you had been like this too, on your first day in Jackson.

Tommy spotted you across the hall and gestured you over, leaning against the bar counter. He was looking at Manny the whole time.

"He's not eaten a single thing since I brought him here. Been starin' at the table for the past half hour", Tommy informed you lowly.

You sighed and looked at Manny with pitiful eyes. "I know. He's probably overstimulated."

Tommy looked at the yearning look on your face and chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. You looked at him in confusion.

"A damn apocalypse out there and we still got fools in love over'ere", Tommy teased you.

You groaned loudly and slapped his shoulder, "You and your brother think that you're comedians or something."

Tommy's chuckles receded and he nudged you, "Go talk to him." You looked at him and frowned, nodding weakly before making your way over to where Manny sat.

You silently slid in the seat in front of him and scooped up some soup in the spoon, holding it up before clearing your throat. Manny snapped his head up and froze. His curls were sticking in all directions, eyes and face red from all the crying he did and mouth agape, as if he was not expecting you to sit in front of him. He truly looked at you then, how you looked so stunning even after being so exhausted.

You shifted uncomfortably, "My arm is hurting, are you gonna eat or not?", you murmured and shifted the spoon closer to his mouth.

He finally moved then, leaning closer to the spoon and closing his mouth around it before gulping, his eyes still fixated on your face.

"I-" "No. Eat first, then we can talk for as long as you want to. Do you wanna eat somewhere else?"

Manny blinked in surprise at your offer and how you sounded much more calm now. He simply nodded his head and you got up to pack his food into containers, him following you around like a lost puppy.

-

You settled down on the outdoor seating in Joel's backyard and let Manny finish his serving. You missed seeing him like this- alive and whole- in front of you. After he was done, he finished the glass of water you had set down for him and awkwardly shifted in his seat, not sure what to expect.

"You sure you wanna stay here?", you asked him suddenly. He tilted his head like a puppy and his brown eyes widened. "Yes...I-I want to."

"I'm not forcing you, you're still free to walk away and go back to Seattle. I don't want you to be here just for the sake of me."

"No! No, (Name), I came here for you. I told you that before, and I mean it. Please, give me a chance. I wanna- I wanna live with you", he sputtered out.

You assessed him closely, "If you try anything while you're here, I wont hesitate to kill you, you know that right?", you threatened him casually. He nodded his head vehemently.

"And you'll make up for your mistakes? Be kind to my family?", he nodded his head yet again, "Yes, I swear", he conceded in a sincere voice.

"And-..if I give you a chance, you won't betray me again?", your voice broke and your eyes welled up.

Manny froze when he realised what you said, "Wait. You- Yes. Yes, a thousand times, yes. I promise, I'll make it up to you our whole life", his voice shook with emotion, hands itching to hold you in his arms.

"Okay", you sniffled and nodded in agreement. Manny let out a content sigh and whispered an 'okay'. He'd do everything and anything you'd ask him to win you back in his life.

-

Jackson, 2031

You woke up to the sound of muffled chatter from the street and the chirps of little birds. Warm sunlight was pouring through the curtains, bathing your bedroom in a shade of yellow. You then registered the heavy arm around your middle, the sunlight making it look like it was painted in gold, the skin smooth and soft.

The breaths hitting your neck tickled you slightly and you turned around to face him- your Manny- still sleeping soundly with his mouth slightly open, giving you a view of his crooked lower teeth that you adored. His clean shaven face was glowing, the tiny moles scattered across his face like constellations and his cropped curls appearing soft to the touch—making him look boyish.

It’s been a year since Manny won you back. He’s been working so hard on proving himself to you by helping around the community, making amends with Joel and Ellie, trying to leave behind his past and harmful tendencies behind. He was much more calmer now, less brash, slowing down and enjoying mundane domesticity with you.

Truthfully, he didn’t need to do much. All he had to do was be himself. You never fell out of love with him, just upset with how far he’d let himself stray. But, Manny was home now, sleeping in later and waking up by loving on you—his day starting and ending with worshipping you. He was still the same Manny when you were both 20 year olds- overprotective and fiercely loyal. Except now, he let you do patrols only with him, Joel, Ellie or Tommy as your partners.

Tommy and Joel had surprisingly taken him under their wings, teaching him construction work, encouraging him to help around in the community and utilising his shooting skills to protect Jackson Hole. They were impressed with how agile and what a graceful fighter he was.

They never missed a chance to tease you whenever you admired him working around the town. You’d act annoyed but deep down, your heart would be soaring with happiness to see your family accept Manny with open arms.

Although, Maria and Ellie were the last ones to come around. Maria got used to Manny a little earlier, as Benji was so enraptured with him that she came around quickly. Manny had taken it upon himself to teach Benji football and they would hang out day and night, the adorable sight making you cry always.

Ellie, on the other hand, she still held a slight grudge against him (rightfully so) so she maintained a safe distance from him. Manny confessed to you that she lowkey scared him and you had laughed at that, telling him that he should be scared of her.

Another person that held grudge against Manny was Jesse, for the way he handled Dina and you excused that too, but Manny and Jesse seemed to have a silly testosterone fight going on and you steered clear of it, not interested in it in any way. Dina kept Manny on his toes, annoying him like a younger sibling and it was so entertaining for you to watch him be grumpy around her.

The elder townsfolk absolutely adored Manny and you- the abuelas cooing over him while pinching his cheeks everytime he charmed them and spoke to them in Spanish, and taking you by your hands to their houses to feed you their homemade dishes. Manny always had a goofy smile by the time you returned home, enjoying the attention. And you laughed in adoration, loving the fact that you got to see that shy and bashful blush across his cheeks more and more often.

A shocking thing that happened to Manny— in the entirety of you knowing him, you’ve never seen him unsure, shy or hesitant about anything. That changed as soon as he stepped foot in Jackson and you saw it in the dining hall, with him sitting in the corner, away from everyone. In the beginning, he’d enter any room without turning on the light, forgetting that Jackson had electricity. You’d lightly come up behind him and turn it on, his body tensing and his face flushing with red when he realised it was you.

He’d jump around the loud noises, as Jackson would get rowdy during meal times or events, he even refused to sleep with his back to the door, wanting to stay vigilant and alert at all times. After spending your whole life looking over your shoulder, this was bound to happen and your heart broke for him, wanting to reassure and comfort him every time he felt like that. Watching him look at everything in child-like wonder made your chest hurt with love and the feeling of wanting to protect him forever.

“You’re thinking so loud”, he mumbled sleepily, arms tugging you closer to him. You blinked, smiling gently and cradled his cheek into your hand, caressing it with your thumb. “Good morning, Em”, you replied softly and pinched his cheek.

He flashed you his half-smile and slipped a hand under your shirt, pressing a kiss into your palm, “Mornin’, angel”, he finally opened his eyes and they shone like earthen pools in the sunlight. The urge to go back to sleep was strong, the bed sheets warm and comfy with your shared body heat, Manny’s body soft and sturdy against yours and his hand under your shirt gently rubbing your bare back. But you had to get up and start work or else Maria would be upset for the whole day.

“C’mon, we gotta get up, baby. You’ve got to help Joel with the restoration today.”

Manny grumbled and slid down to bury his head in your chest, legs trapping you against him. “No. 5 minutes more, please.”

“Manny…you know how Joel gets. He’ll do everything on his own even if his joints lock up. C’mon, let’s get to work”, you cooed at him and rubbed his back gently.

Joel was fully recovered now, but the doctors told you that his knee injury would give him chronic knee pain, which made sitting or standing for longer hours difficult for his aging body. Manny, Tommy and Jesse tried their best to take off the burden but Joel Miller was nothing if not stubborn. “You’ve to teach the kids as well, let’s go.”

Manny groaned, the sound vibrating against your chest, “Swear to god, you Millers stress me out on purpose”, and he squeezed your waist.

You giggled and slapped his back lightly before he propped himself up on an arm and admired you with doe eyes.

You shifted in unease, “Stop looking at me like that”, you mumbled and tried to close his eyes with your hand. He grabbed it and rested it on his chest.

“Hey, I’ve gotta make up for lost time. I missed seeing your beautiful face next to me for five years”, he replied in a quiet voice. You exchanged bashful smiles and he leaned in to press a loving kiss on your lips and murmured, “I love you”, against them.

You looked at him with your eyes shining in tears and jutted your bottom lip out. “I love you more, Em”, Manny giggled and squished your cheeks in between his fingers, your combined joyful laughter echoing in the still room of your own house— the house that you shared with Manny and would be sharing until you were both greying and wrinkly.

Fin.

-

AN: AAAA im so happy for them pls…I love domestic Manny so much. Hope y’all liked this mini series 🥹🩷 please like and reblog!

taglist: @taylorsroxy @parkersjoy @aomi-recs @serendipity-29 @lucycarlisleswife @laurenjbb @onmyknees4kai @groovycass @spideybrie @yvonne-dump @monselxo @this-girl-is-tired

[dameronspector]

I mistakenly called them by your name.

summary. || you're the avatar of anubis and the biggest secret you harbor is your relationship with jake lockley and the daughter you share. when the scarab falls into the hands of a cult, you delve into the fray and hope you can balance saving the world with protecting your secrets.

pairing. || moon knight system x f!reader (established relationship with jake, marc and steven join in later)

count. || 6.2k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. my annual moon knight obsession has taken over my brain and it's currently missing jake lockley hours </3

part one. ||

Despite being the Avatar of an ancient Egyptian deity, you don’t necessarily believe in fate. There is no such connection between the world and an individual such as destiny, such as there is no connection between one person and another that classifies as a soulmate bond. People exist in a state of utter abandon, and they are nothing but reactive to the state of the world around them.

Yet, as you turn around to show Eliana another exhibit on Ancient Egypt, dutifully reading aloud the brass-plated plaque she points at, you wonder how much of a coincidence it is that you see your husband standing there, just behind the gift-shop counter. The sight of him plunges your every nerve into a tumultuous sea of arctic water, the waves crashing through your body in a rush of panic. If he knows you followed him back to London, with Eliana no less…

Until you see his gaze meander your way, then slide right over the two of you as if you are nothing but ordinary museum attendees. There’s a slouch to his shoulders, his presence curled up in itself, but you have to tear your attention away before he catches you staring. Or, more likely, before you break and stride over there to demand answers. You have had enough time to sketch out and fine-tune your list of questions for him, and when you booked the flight to London you thought you were composed enough to be able to propose your tidy list to him without wanting to grab him by the lapels of his coat and shake some sense into his stupid fractured brain.

You let out a slow, controlled breath. You’re composed, of course you are. Nothing can shake you.

“Mama,” Eliana says, tugging at your hand impatiently, and you feel a jolt of awareness at the back of your mind that signals the creeping presence of a god nearby. This one isn’t yours.

“Yes, habibti?” You say, casually scanning the museum lobby. It’s a public, brightly-lit institution with sparkling glass cases displaying relics far older than you. There are groups of people sparsely scattering around the room, milling idly from one display to the next, unaware of the oversized jackal trotting through people and the display cases as a spectral entity.

The black-tipped tip of its tail wags in gentle greeting when it catches you looking, and you manage a pointed glance at Eliana before turning your attention back to the exhibit she dragged you to.

“It’s you,” she announces cheerily, grinning up at you. She is a dead-ringer for her father; same loose black curls and dark eyes that glimmer with a mischievous streak of satisfaction in teasing you. You look closer at the replicated statue of a jackal-headed god and huff out a laugh. It’s a statue of Anubis, of course, and you don’t have to look behind you to know that the jackal lingering in your shadow has an open-muzzle grin at the acknowledgment.

“Your flail is better,” she adds, pointing to the replicated flail dangling in the statue’s hand. The museum’s version is plated with imitation gold and striped blue, the metal sparkling beneath the fluorescent lights. The length of its handle fits flush to the statue’s forearm in the traditional symbol of a shepherd’s tool.

“Mine does look different,” you agree, idly swinging your joined hands between you. She stares up at the statue of Anubis with an intent solemnity, and you feel that familiar pitch of guilt in the pit of your stomach. Your service as a god’s Avatar is absolute; as his hands and his faith, you have had to adjust to a life of constant change. What began as a simple career at a local mortuary has transformed into a globe-trotting itinerary with a rapidly-expanding catalog of adversaries.

You resist the urge to glance over at the gift-shop counter and instead tuck a stray curl from Eliana’s eyes, smiling at the way she twists to look over her shoulder and scrunch her nose up at you. “I think we should take a break for lunch, habibti.”

“I wanna see the Ennead,” she frowns. Well, it’s bordering closer to a pout, but you can tell she’s getting hungry and her temper is on a shorter fuse than normal. She points to the banners on the wall, naming off the gods she sees, then pauses. “Where are the other gods, Mama?”

You study the display. There are only seven of the Ennead displayed, Anubis included, unlike the nine traditionally depicted. It’s clear who is missing immediately, and some strange emotion flutters in your gut at the realization.

“Khonshu and Ammit are gone,” Eliana announces. She twists around, peering for any sign of their presence, and she goes tense in your grip when she spots the man at the gift shop counter. “Oh! Daddy’s here.”

“He’s not himself today, habibti,” you tell her. She squints at him, studying the curve of his posture and the polite smile he gives the old woman buying a glass paperweight in the shape of a pyramid. There’s an earnest sheen to the clumsy way he gestures towards the display of fridge magnets that makes his customer smile, polite yet uninterested. He looks like he’s spouting off a laundry list of information, and the old woman nods kindly as she collects her change and receipt before retreating. He manages a wave in goodbye then moves onto his next customer.

“He’s nice,” Eliana decrees. “Can we say ‘hi’, Mama?”

Yeah, Jake is going to kill you for this.

“Sure, habibti. Let’s get a souvenir and we can see him when we checkout.”

In the very least, it’s an easy redirect towards getting her out of the museum to get lunch. She practically drags you over to the gift shop, her eyes taking in the inventory with ravenous longing, and you notice the display of plushies with a resigned sigh.

“Taweret!” She shouts. You let go of her hand before she yanks you off-balance to follow behind at a slower distance, smiling as she gazes reverently at the tower of plush hippos. The black bead eyes shine kindly under the display lights, perfectly reminiscent of the goddess herself. She would be utterly delighted to see the merchandise in her likelihood.

“Oh, we just got those in,” an accented voice says, coming around the checkout counter to edge closer to the two of you. The relentless buzz of worry and stress that you have been harboring since Jake went missing in the dead of a Cairo night eases as his body comes into view. Of course, you assure yourself, his body is fine. With the Moon Knight suit to accelerate his healing instantly in battle and Anubis’s blessing to keep him whole, he was never in danger of death.

Still, your shoulders loosen from the relief, and you turn to smile at him. The name tag fastened to the lapel of his jacket says ‘Steven’, though you figured as much based on the British accent and the seemingly exemplary customer service skills he has displayed. Marc, during the plentiful amount of life-threatening occasions you’ve clashed with him in, is not as patient as his alter, and you know Jake prefers limited contact with strangers when necessary.

“She’s a bit of an Egyptology enthusiast,” you tell him, gesturing to Eliana. A sensation of warmth spreads through your chest as you watch Steven turn to your daughter, his face lighting up in delight. Jake liked to lament the fact that she was just as Egypt-obsessed as Steven was, though you knew he was secretly pleased that she shared that trait with his fellow alter. Steven is a soft-hearted history nerd, he had told you, and he never shuts up about it.

And you love him for it, you had translated, and Jake had expertly changed the subject by changing the channel on the television to put on the game show you both liked. There was something to be said about the way he complained about Steven’s constant stream of history trivia facts only to religiously tune in to Jeopardy with you during his time in the body. Not to mention how damned good he was at it.

“Hello, there,” he says to her, crouching to get closer to her level. He points to the display of stuffed hippos. “I reckon you know who that is, yeah?”

“Taweret,” Eliana beams. She looks to Steven with that smile, and he returns it just as brilliantly. “She’s the goddess of women and children, an’ she helps steer the boat in the Duat.”

Steven raises his eyebrows at that, but his voice doesn’t falter from that kind, attentive tone. “Wow, you’re an expert! She helps guide the souls through the afterlife, yeah?”

“She weighs hearts,” Eliana agrees.

“Oi,” Steven says, sounding a little put-out by the declaration. “Well, that’s more of Osiris’s thing, innit? Weighing the heart, comparing it with the feather?”

Uh-oh. You know that her furrowed brow mean she’s gearing up to properly educate Steven on the true nature of the Duat, so you edge your way back into the conversation, crouching down to be level with her and Steven.

“Do you want to tell Steven what we noticed, Eliana?” You prompt, and her face turns solemn as she stares down Steven.

“You’re missing two,” she tells him. At his startled look, she points over his shoulder to the Ennead banners displayed on the far wall. “Khonshu gets cranky when you don’t talk about him.”

You barely manage to tilt your head down to hide your grin from Steven. She clearly picked that observation up from Jake, who often translated his disdain for Khonshu’s regular self-righteous rants into kid-appropriate terminology when he noticed her paying attention.

“Right,” Steven says, frowning. For a beat, you think it’s from the way Eliana talked about the Egyptian god of the moon with familiarity, but no, he looks justified as he points to the banners. “I told my boss the same thing, yeah? There are nine members of the Ennead and only seven banners. In a museum!”

Uh-oh. Now you got Steven all worked up.

“Stevie!” A voice shouts, startling the three of you. Eliana reaches out to clasp Steven’s hand, eyes wide, and some unspeakable emotion clogs your throat when you see his grip on her hand tighten reflexively, a silent comfort.

“Uh, here!” he calls. To Eliana, he says, “Donna, my boss.”

He dares a glance your way, and you blink at the flush of red creeping over the crest of his cheekbones. You aren’t used to your husband’s body looking so… soft and shy. Not in public, anyway. “I’m real sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him, soft, and he seems to blush harder only to yelp in surprise when Donna turns the corner. He straightens up to his feet fast enough to shake the display rack of Taweret plushies in a dangerously tedious wobble, which makes Eliana giggle and in turn draws Donna's attention to the way he’s still gripping onto your daughter’s hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asks him, her voice edged in exasperated annoyance, and you rise up from your crouch, eyes narrowed. Donna gestures to their clasped hands. “Let go of that child, Stevie, what’s the matter with you?”

Steven releases Eliana’s hand as if her touch burns, and she stares up at him with wide eyes, hurt twisting her bottom lip into a wavering pout. You reach out and draw her closer to your side, smoothing a hand over her dark curls as she buries her face against the hem of your coat to hide her tears.

You look at Steven, and the gutted expression that flashes across his face nearly rends you in half. Jake. You would know him by sight alone, even if he only takes control of the body’s expression just long enough for you to see his hurt before he shutters himself away again. Got you, you think, relief unraveling the pit of worry trapped beneath your ribs. The body is alive, yes, but so is Jake. He’s there, even if he masks himself behind the presence of his fellow alter.

Part of you had thought… you had worried that…

“Steven is a real scholar,” you interrupt, forcing a smile to your face, hard-lined with polite disdain for her tone. Donna pulls her glare from Steven and looks at you as if just noticing your presence for the first time. “He was just telling Eliana about the Ennead. She loves Egyptology, I’m so glad she could talk to someone who loves it just as much as she does.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’, really,” Steven scrambles to add, flushing darker, his gaze darting from you to Donna with a wariness that reminds you so much of Jake you wonder if he’s still at the surface of the body’s consciousness, prepared to strike.

“I appreciate his help,” you add over Steven’s stuttering apology to Donna. She gives him a flat, annoyed look then turns to you with a fake smile.

“Well, at least he’s good for something,” she says, pointedly staring at Steven, and the defensive curl of his shoulders makes you want to throttle her. The blaze of fury that curls up the length of your spine is not only your own; a jackal’s rumbling growl echoes in the space above you.

“He is amazing,” you blurt out. She turns to stare at you, but you only have eyes for Steven. His posture is slumped, but those dark eyes are glittering with surprise as you stare at one another, a rising tide of unsaid words swelling in the back of your throat. You want to tell Donna of the incredible knowledge he has, the kindness of his heart, and the mirrored facets of his body that she could never fully understand. She cannot understand that when she disparages Steven Grant, she is also targeting Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, and Moon Knight.

Instead, you say, finally, “I really appreciate it, Steven. We would love to hear more when we come back.”

“Of course,” Steven says immediately, then blanches at the glare Donna gives him. “Right, uh, you’re welcome back anytime, yeah? Eliana, too.”

At the sound of her name, Eliana twists her head to look shyly up at Steven, her fingers easing their death grip on your coat when you gently tug at the curl falling into her eyes. The smile she gives him shines bright enough to make him grin back. “Thanks, Steven!”

“Thanks, Steven,” you repeat, and part of you wonders what Jake sees when you lean down and haul Eliana up onto your hip, carefully maneuvering your way out of the gift shop without bumping into the few patrons staring openly at the strange display between you, Steven, and Donna. He had told you that he stays aware during the day, giving his nights to Marc unless he felt a spike of adrenaline that signaled the start of a fight for the body.

You hope he sees your message loud and clear as you make your way to the museum’s exit, glancing over your shoulder just once to find Steven watching you, his face morphing into guilt and embarrassment when he sees you catch him staring.

You offer him a fleeting smile. You hope Jake sees your silent meaning: come and find me.

***

You get lunch at a cafe across the street from the museum, and you don’t argue when Eliana begs to sit at one of the bistro tables outside despite the clouds rolling in and muddling the sky. London is a dreary change of pace from your last apartment in Tunis, though you silently admire the way Eliana watches with open amazement at the crowded sidewalk and idling cars passing you on the street, enraptured by the bustle of pedestrians and flow of afternoon traffic.

You are no stranger to the world, but you forget how novel the entire experience is for your daughter. For a five year old, she’s been to more countries than you had been to at her age, but she still chews on her sandwich with an absent-minded instinct as she watches. Like the exhibits in the museum, she is utterly taken with the foreign display of another life.

The french fries you ordered taste like ash in your mouth, but you manage to chew and swallow without feeling too nauseous. It helps when you have a spectral jackal curled up at your feet under the table, its weightless head resting on your shoes in silent support. Its head is pointedly aimed to the front doors of the museum, acting as a sentinel. You don’t expect Steven to lose control of the body any time soon, especially not to Jake. Last you heard from him, he was intent on keeping his role in the system as a secret.

There’s enough going on in their head without me, querida.

Fair enough, you think, though you give up on picking at your fries in favor of scrawling another entry in your travel journal. It was a simple way to keep track of Jake’s memories during your former glory days as traveling Avatars, but you keep the habit without him there to add his own observations or opinions.

Noon: Visited the National Art Gallery with Eliana. She took us around the Egyptian exhibits for an hour. Saw Steven in the gift shop. Saw you briefly in the front. Got lunch at the cafe across the street.

Staring down at the entry only furthers that jolt of longing in your heart, so you snap the journal closed and slip it back into your tote bag, far out of sight.

“Oh,” Eliana says, breathless, and you barely have time to look up before you see her get swept up out of her seat by a pair of hands.

Your choked gasp of shock catches the attention of a nearby table, but the older couple looks away when Jake glares back at them, hoisting Eliana up onto his shoulders. He carries the body with the same lithe grace as a panther, you think. Where Steven is huddled and wary, Jake burns as bright as the sun, his shoulders squared, every step graceful and sure.

Even his smile to you is near-predatory. Unhappy.

“Fancy to see you here, querida,” he says. Not unkindly, though you know it’s more for Eliana’s benefit. There’s an edge lining the corner of his mouth that is reserved only for you to see now that she’s stashed safely atop his shoulders.

“I saw Steven!” She tells him, burying her hands in his dark curls. She leans down to press her temple to his, only to squeal in delight when he turns to kiss the tip of her nose.

“You told him he was missing the gods on that poster, princesita?” He hitches his shoulders to make her bounce, and she curls up to steady herself in his grip, giggling riotously against the crown of his curled hair. “I think you forgot something when you left.”

“Not-uh,” she declares. “I got my jacket!”

“Hmm,” Jake muses. “What about your shoes?”

“One, two,” she shows him one foot then the other. Jake’s smile softens at the sight of the untied laces, and you know he’s thinking of the same daily rituals you are. So many mornings he has spent muttering over her sneakers, constantly re-tying the laces, failing to convince her to get velcro shoes because she likes Jake to tie them for her and he cannot resist making her smile, even in that small way.

A morning ritual the two of you have tried to remedy together since he left. You’ve shown her how to tie her own shoes many times since then, but both of you can feel the gaping emptiness that he has left since Cairo.

“¿Estas segura?” He teases, and when she lets out an offended squawk of annoyance, he releases his grip on one of her ankles and pulls out a fuzzy dark-fur plush from his pocket.

You laugh despite yourself. A plush jackal, colored just like the god tucked in at your feet.

“Anubis!” Eliana gasps. She takes the plush from Jake with reverent joy, tucking it securely into the crook of her arm as her other hand curls gently into his dark hair. The exhaustion and annoyance that lined his face earlier is long gone, and a gentle adoration softens his eyes as she leans in to whisper in his ear, “Gracias, Daddy.”

“De nada, princesita,” he whispers back. For a moment, they stay just like that, her face ducked low to lean against his, his hands clasping her ankles to steady her perch on his shoulders. She has the same sort of smile that he does, too, as if it’s a secret split open and divided just for the two of them to share.

You’re loath to interrupt their first moment of peacefulness in nearly two months, so you merely catch Jake’s gaze and hold it, silently conveying every thought rattling in your head.

Cairo. The apartment abandoned in Tunis. The journey to London through international flights, hauling around a cranky kid that missed her dad and didn’t understand why it was important to pretend she wasn’t Eliana Lockley Spector when the boarding agents checked them in. Seeing Jake’s body being piloted by a near-stranger in the gift shop, knowing he was close enough for you to touch but you had no right to ask for the privilege.

“Join us?” You ask softly. He swallows thickly, and for a beat, he lets you see the emotions filtering through his mind in his subdued expression: exhaustion, stress, panic, relief, love, love, love.

“I have an hour for lunch,” he says. He doesn’t say that it’s Steven’s lunch, though you know that based on the tension ticking in his jaw, he’s already wondering how he will cover the blank spot in Steven’s memory when he comes back to front.

You push your plate across the table, and he eyes the untouched sandwich and half-eaten fries with a knowing look.

“No mayo,” he assumes. It’s endearing, you think, watching him scrutinize the lunch date you arranged while Eliana pets his curls with gentle fingers, tangling up the sleep-mussed locks even further. If Steven looked tired and rumpled, then Jake seems exhaustively spent. There’s a firm tilt to the corner of his mouth that reminds you of the way Marc always frowns when he’s in the front, but as Eliana carefully combs through his hair with her little fingers, you can see his expression smooth out and soften.

“You should finish lunch,” he finally says. He’s looking directly at you, but he lifts Eliana up and over his head to settle her in his lap, claiming the chair he swept her up from. She wiggles to lean her head against his collar, her posture loose and sated. He pulls her plate closer to the edge of the table so she can reach, and one of her hands dart out to snatch a french fry.

“Ay, have more than just the fritas,” he admonishes, but he takes a fry off of your plate with a wink only you can see. Eliana giggles but obediently reaches for her half-gnawed sandwich next, and so Jake doesn’t complain when she curls up in his lap to nibble on it, watching the passing traffic with a bright smile that makes your heart ache.

The three of you will never have your little life in Tunis again. You know it, even if you want nothing more than to take Jake by the hand and drag the both of them back home. It eases the sting to know that Jake would go with you and he wouldn’t fight it. His willingness to settle down was never the obstacle in your relationship.

“How was the shiva?” You ask. It’s easier to switch to Spanish; you can feel the sidelong stares from the old couple at the table next to yours, still uneasy at Jake’s sudden appearance. They are likely harmless, but you don’t have enough energy to sidestep the actual topic you need to discuss by using petty code-speak.

Jake takes the offering without stumbling. “Didn’t go in. Had to nudge them through the city streets before one of them got run over.”

“The museum is just his day job, then?” You ask, nodding to the name tag still fastened to Jake’s coat. Or it was technically Steven’s coat, you supposed. The three of them have their own preferences, and you know Jake would have preferred something softer and warmer for the tepid English weather.

“Gallivanting at night,” Jake agrees. He takes another fry off of your plate and eats it slowly, chewing as if he can delay the conversation entirely. Eliana eats just as slow, you notice, and you wonder if it isn’t just Jake who feels the tension brewing between the two of you.

It isn’t fair for her, you think, and that gives you the courage to speak first.

“I’ve been talking to my sister,” you start, and the next sentence dies in your throat when you see Jake stiffen, panic flashing through his eyes before his gaze settles in wary distrust. The slope of his shoulders tense into a straight, drawn-back posture. A soldier’s stance.

“You,” Marc says flatly. Eliana straightens up at the sound of his voice, looking at you with wide eyes, and you can only offer her a smile in what you hope conveys comfort. Either that, or you just might expose some of the frustration welling up in your chest.

“Just having lunch,” you tell Marc. His brows draw together, unsure, and you quickly jump back into English. “We invited Steven to lunch.”

Wrong thing to say. The tension stiffens into protectiveness, his dark eyes slowly taking in the plates on the table, the half-eaten vegetarian sandwich pushed between you and him. Then his attention trails down to Eliana, and his expression smooths out when he realizes that she’s watching him with rapt attention.

“Hi, Eliana,” Marc says, soft. When he looks at you, that wariness turns the softness of his black eyes back to stone. “Steven isn’t involved in any of this, Lockley.”

You nod. The sound of his voice sends that shiver down your back. God, you missed this so much. Jake may be the alter you married, but Marc is still the reason you have him and Eliana. He was your partner in a way Jake didn’t quite equate to.

“I know.” You offer your best apologetic look, but he doesn’t seem swayed until you nod to Eliana. “We came to the city for my sister. I got a lead and I needed the babysitter.”

“Lockley,” he warns. He glances around the cafe, and you follow his gaze. The old couple that sat next to you have gone while you were distracted, and you supposed it was good they left before they noticed Jake switch into a brooding American from Chicago that looked like he was holding a pipe bomb rather than your daughter in his lap. The faces around you are different but unassuming, and none seem interested in your suddenly tense conversation. It’s only the three of you, and the jackal curled languidly at your feet, unbothered by the display.

Good. That must mean Khonshu isn’t here yet. When Marc looks back to you, you smile at him.

“I know,” you say, soft enough to sound less like a defense mechanism and more like an olive branch. It doesn’t loosen the slope of his shoulders, though there’s less wrinkles across his brow. “I just needed time before meeting with Sophia. Eliana wanted to see the exhibits.”

“I saw a mummy,” Eliana adds, patting Marc’s shoulder to get his attention. The anger clears from his face when he tilts his head down to offer his full attention. His eyes linger on the plush jackal clutched in the crook of her arm, but he merely offers her a kind, gentle smile.

“Oh, yeah?” He says. He pokes her side, supporting her weight when she jolts away at the ticklish touch with a giggle, then pokes at the plush on her other side. “You picked up a souvenir, too?”

“Anubis,” Eliana affirms. She pulls it out to offer it to Marc, and his hand is gentle as he pets the top of its furry head, his smile tugging ruefully at the corners of his mouth. You take a brief, gracious moment to silently thank Jake for his thoughtfulness. Not only did Eliana have a souvenir, but it was a good cover story for when this exact scenario happened: they saw Steven at the gift shop counter during checkout, and they got lunch together.

From what you knew of Steven, you gathered that he was an earnest, kind-hearted, and well-mannered man. He wouldn’t refuse an offer for lunch, and he was just as likely to strike up a friendship with Eliana through a few conversations about their shared love for Egyptology.

Like you choosing the vegan-friendly restaurant, Jake chose a prop for a lunch date. For all of the complaints he had about Marc’s love for strategy, he could be a formidable opponent in the game of chess you all played with the system. Hiding Steven from the world of Avatars, hiding Jake from Marc and Steven, hiding who you and Eliana truly are from Marc.

It was all a delicate circus act of balance and lies, and you wondered just how far you could let it go before it all came crashing down. Marc would be gutted if he knew the girl cradled in his lap was his daughter just as much as she was Jake’s and Steven’s. He would be furious if he knew his marriage to Layla was null and void just because he was married to you, instead, long before he started to even date her.

Yeah, some chess game you all played. Some days you wondered if it would be easier simply to set the board on fire and let it all go.

“I’m sorry,” you say suddenly.

Marc and Eliana both look to you, an eerie mirror to the life you pose for. She has his striking dark eyes and soft curls, and thanks to you, she has his name, too. One of the contacts you worked with beyond the scope of Marc and Layla’s influences forged her birth certificate and passport, sympathetic when you explained to her that Eliana was a surprise and her father had no interest in being involved. She needed identification papers, and you couldn’t go to the local embassy to register her birth with her father, and so you made them up.

You couldn’t blame Jake for lying about his role in the system. You were just as complicit in the deceit of your daughter’s life. By extension, for better and for worse, that meant Marc’s life, too.

“For showing up so suddenly,” you explain. “I didn’t expect to get so caught up in a museum today. We just had to kill some time.”

In emphasis, you check your watch, and you don’t have to fake the tired sigh that overcomes you at the acknowledgment of the time. Steven’s lunch was about over, and you had to catch the next bus to your sister’s house before she started to worry about you.

Marc, ever attentive, takes the hint.

“I understand,” he says, though he doesn’t sound happy. “Just… leave him out of this. We can talk about the scarab later.”

“Didn’t tell you that was my lead,” you point out, a little sly, and he levels you with an unamused look. You relent, “I’ll share my sources and we can make a plan. You don’t have to rush in alone.”

The smile he gives you is bitter. “Am I ever alone, Lockley?”

With that, you watch as his posture softens, Marc stepping back from control. For a moment, you wonder if he intends to have Steven step in, in which case explaining the lunch arrangement again will get much more confusing. But no, you can see Jake’s mouth twitch with a muted frown before he gives you a wide, uncharacteristically bright smile.

“Right, look at the time,” Jake says, and you can’t help but smile at the British accent. “I best get a move on, right, love?”

He presses a kiss to the top of Eliana’s head, and only you can see the way he closes his eyes for a heartbeat, a wave of longing sweeping across his face before it settles back to an imitation of Steven’s soft look and he leans back. When he looks at you, his face betrays nothing of his true nature, and you wonder what he would say if Marc wasn’t hovering so close to the front, watching your interaction.

He would probably be pissed. He didn’t like to be left out of the loop, and you coming to London was so far out of left field that you came from another stadium. Bringing Eliana only complicated things, but were you supposed to leave her with your neighbors in Tunis? As much as you liked and trusted the al-Karims that lived next door, they were vastly unprepared to take care of Eliana if you never came back. Next of kin was the best opportunity you had, at least for now.

“It was nice to see you,” you say to your husband. You hold his eyes for a long moment, a silent conversation held delicately between the two of you. Years of working side-by-side as Avatars and the aspect of parenthood where being aware of what Eliana shouldn’t have to hear finely tuned your silent communication skills, and you are more than fluent in the language of Jake Lockley.

He is beyond pissed. He is utterly fucking terrified. He wants you to leave just as much as he wants to pull you in and keep you close. He wants to settle in and rest, even for just a little while, and he does not want to let the two of you out of his sight.

I will be back for you, you tell him silently. We are not doing anything alone. We are going to fix this and go back to normal.

Jake says, with the slightest furrow of his brow: I want you to be right, querida.

Yeah, you want to be right, too. It’s a work in progress.

“You ready to go, habibti?” You say to Eliana, gathering up your tote bag and her small pink backpack. Before leaving Tunis, you packed it with her clothes, along with some of her favorite books and a few toys. How strange your life was that you had a go-bag for your five year old. It had been even worse that she recognized her backpack and had gotten ready for your flight before you even explained the trip to see your sister.

She heaves a world-weary sigh and shuffles around to face Jake, lifting up her Anubis plush to kiss his cheek with a soft peck of its nose.

“Anubis likes you,” she tells him, solemn. The jackal at your feet, nothing more than a shimmering mass of sand and shadows, gives Jake a bared-teeth grin of acknowledgement that no one but you can see. She isn’t far off, though you would rather not have Khonshu overhear that his Avatar has a soft spot in a rival god’s heart.

Marc must still be close to the waking consciousness of the body, because Jake nods enthusiastically and generously pats the plush’s head.

“Right, thanks, mate.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to muffle a laugh. His impression is openly expressive and earnest, though not entirely overdramatic. The accent is a dead ringer for Steven’s stereotypical posh English. It makes sense; he has spent many years posing as flashes of Steven to keep Marc unsuspecting of certain blank spots in his memory. Typically, it’s softer errands, such as grocery shopping or doing laundry, but you have heard Jake’s impression of Steven and Marc enough to know when it’s him putting on an act, even if it happens to be a very accurate act.

Jake keeps up his front as Steven, and you wonder if you’re the only one that notices the way he reluctantly passes off Eliana to you, his hands lingering just a moment on her untied shoes before they drop back in his lap, empty.

Eliana nuzzles her face in the crook of your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your neck in loose comfort. She’s exhausted after your morning of travel to London by bus, followed immediately by your museum visit and the impromptu lunch date. When you reach your sister’s house, you know she’ll be grumpy until you can convince her to nap.

Then, you will have to leave her there, and meet up with Marc.

“Thank you,” you say to Jake, though it’s half meant for Marc, too. The two of you can manage to find the scarab and keep it out of the cult’s hands, surely. The quicker you locate the artifact, the quicker you can arrange a real routine for Eliana while you adjust to London life. Or maybe you’ll get lucky and you can go back to Tunis, the three of you, to go back to enjoying the sunshine and frequenting the food stalls in the Medina.

“Pleasure’s all mine, love,” Jake grins, and this time, it’s his own flirtatious smile that makes you grin back.

[dameronspector]

please he deserves to have a chance at life again wtf💔💔💔

Getaway Car (Part 3)

Pairing: Manny Alvarez x GN!Reader, Joel Miller x Platonic!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Summary: Manny stayed back, you saved Joel and safely returned to Jackson. He’d beg on his knees for forgiveness, but would you forgive him?

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort from Joel, Joel is a father to Reader, Reader misses Manny so much, Mentions of Depression and Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Death, Blood, Gore, Joel Miller Is Saved, Reader hates Abby and the group, Manny begs for forgiveness, reunions, domestic Manny, that’s all I think!

AN: mwah I love these two I love manny I love joel I love Tommy I love Ellie just..yeah 🩷 enjoy! This is the final part!

PS: I don't know anything about the game, my characterisation is based off the wiki information, the show and my own imagination. Plus, I headcanoned the QZ where they first met as Miami because that's Danny's hometown.

The more he thought of it, the more he knew that he wanted to stay back with you. He’d do what he had promised himself 5 years ago- beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

He raised his tear-filled eyes and looked at you, doting on Joel and Ellie. You had called her your sister. You had a family. And he’d be lying if he didn’t want to be a part of your family. He wanted you to love on him and care for him. Nora took one look at him and patted his shoulder, him turning around to hug her and Mel for the last time. “Take care of Abby. And…please, keep her away from (Name)”, Manny whispered in a pained voice. Nora offered him a terse nod and departed from him, leaving him to stare at you with longing in his eyes.

You didn’t notice the others leave. You didn’t notice Manny being the only one who didn’t leave. Your entire body was dialed onto Joel-all you could think of, was how to help him. You carefully straightened his body, making him lay on his back and he let out pained whimpers, hands tightening around Ellie’s.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I need to check your injuries, Joel”, you soothed him. Ellie was staring at him with her cheeks damp and face red due to her crying. “El, can you check if there’s a stick or something for his leg? We gotta-”

“Here.” You snapped your eyes up to look at-

“Manny?”, you whispered in disbelief. You noticed the way he swallowed and simply extended a broken table leg to tie around Joel’s injured knee. “Wrap this below his knee and straighten his leg, I’ll tie it up”, he mumbled to Ellie and got to work.

You stared at the scene in shock, Ellie’s face mirroring yours. He had stayed back.

“This is gonna hurt”, he warned you and you immediately went to ground Joel. You looked down at his bloody face, one of his eyes swollen shut.

“Hey, Joel? This is gonna hurt but we gotta do it to help you, okay?”, you gently cooed to him and held his hand tightly in yours, him responding in painful grunts.

Manny slowly straightened Joel’s leg and Joel screamed in agony, causing you to shut your eyes tightly and look away, Ellie doing the same and letting out a cry. Your body shook with sobs, Manny watching you closely, his heart hurting at that state of you. Directly or indirectly, he was the cause of your pain.

Finally, Joel stopped screaming and Manny announced that he was done. You brought your tearful eyes back to Joel and beckoned Ellie to come closer, her snuggling up to you and laying a hand on Joel’s chest- which was thankfully moving.

You brushed Joel’s damp hair away from his forehead and looked at Manny. “Thank you”, you managed to croak out, your eyes expressing your genuine gratitude for his help. Manny simply nodded his head and looked away towards Dina. “I’ll-I’ll help her. Do you wanna try calling someone for help?”, he offered in a careful tone.

You gave him a terse nod and he brought over the comm to you, his fingers brushing against yours. Your stomach flipped in excitement at feeling his touch after 5 long years.

-

After trying to radio Jesse for 20 minutes straight, the door to the room burst open and Jesse arrived on the scene. By now, Joel was just resting his eyes, exhausted from the blood loss and everything. You and Ellie kept a vigilant eye on him. Manny stayed by Dina, trying to keep her warm by shifting her near the fire while occasionally darting his eyes to you.

His chest hurt at how heartbreakingly beautiful you looked. He missed seeing you in front of him.

Your head snapped towards the sound, body deflating in relief at Jesse’s arrival. “Jesse-”, your voice broke off by another wave of tears. Jesse looked horrified but he masked it, not wanting to freak you or Ellie out.

“It’s okay, we’re going home now. Come on”, he soothed you and helped you and Ellie up, you held onto his arms tightly.

Manny’s stomach twisted in jealousy.

“Where’s Dina-”, Jesse questioned and turned to look around the room before his eyes fell on Manny and Dina. “Who are you?”, he asked Manny sharply, eyes assessing him.

You grabbed Jesse’s arm, “I know him, it’s alright. You two, help Joel. We need to find something that will make it easier for him and us to travel. Ellie and I will help Dina, go”, you reassured him before making your way to Dina. Manny looked at you and nodded his head in understanding, making his way over to help Joel and Jesse.

-

After finding a sledge somewhere deep inside a closet and strapping Joel in, the five of you made your way back to Jackson. The blizzard was over now, thankfully, and your horses could walk properly again, which helped you reach Jackson earlier.

Because Manny didn’t have a horse, he had to sit behind you and you were trying your best not to lean against his body heat, his hands twitching to hold your waist and bring you closer to his chest. The whole ride back to Jackson had your body tense and stiff, trying to maintain a safe distance from Manny.

You reached Jackson and almost fell off the horse. The town looked like it had endured a massacre.

The gate was broken down, a pile of infected bodies lying on top of each other in front of it, the wall was completely destroyed, smoke and ash curling in the air, a few living fires making the snow melt and the roads slippery. The insides were just as bad-- houses and shops were broken down, bodies of your fellow townspeople lying around, some of them being executed because they were bitten and in between all of that was Tommy, trying to help the fallen. He had a cut on his face, eyebrows deeply furrowed, face contorted in stress and eyes shining with tears.

Your chest twisted in pain at the sight of your home being torn apart like this. You hurriedly got off Max and ran towards Tommy—Jesse and Manny staying back to help Ellie, Dina and Joel.

"Tommy!", you cried out and ran towards him. Tommy snapped his head up and his face contorted in relief at seeing all of you return, though he couldn't help but notice Joel's absence, his heart skipping a beat.

"Oh, thank Christ, you're all okay", he breathed out and brought you in a bone crushing hug. You hugged him just as tight, your face smushed against his shoulder and eyes shut tightly.

Tommy broke the hug and held you at arms length, eyes searching behind you, "Where's Joel, Kid?", he asked breathlessly.

Your eyes filled up with tears and you managed to choke out, "Later, we need to treat him first. What happened here, Tom?"

Tommy inhaled sharply and shook his head, "Horde attack. Broke down the wall so we had to flame 'em- hence the fires. Destroyed all the buildings and shit." Your eyes widened at that.

"Get Joel to the clinic. I'll meet you there soon", Tommy instructed you and you departed with a terse nod. You made your way back to where Jesse and Manny stood and helped them pull Joel towards the clinic meanwhile Ellie helped escort Dina.

They took in Joel immediately after looking at the state he was in. You let out an exhausted sigh and crumpled down on the corridor floor, burying your head in your hands. You were running on pure adrenaline for the past few hours, not getting a chance to properly come to terms with what had happened and now that you closed your eyes, all you could see was Joel's bloody face and the way he screamed in pain.

You felt your breath hitch, chest constricting painfully and you groaned weakly, hands clawing at your chest to get rid of the feeling. In your panic, you didn't notice someone crouch down in front of you, their hands grabbing yours and putting them on their chest, near their heart.

"Breathe with me, c'mon", a voice called out to you, your brain fuzzily registering it. You felt their chest go up and down as they took big breaths to encourage you to do so. You managed to inhale shakily, letting the oxygen inflate your chest before letting it out. After doing this for 5 more times, the weight on your chest slowly disappeared and that's when you realised who helped you- Manny.

His brown eyes were looking at you in concern, a frown pulling at his lips and hands still holding yours against his chest. You stared at him blankly before snatching your hands away from his, getting up in the process. He followed behind closely, trying to get you to talk to him, "(Name)-", but you cut him off, not in the headspace to talk to him yet.

You still had to wrap your head around the fact that he was alive and breathing, and the fact that he had betrayed you even after you gave him a choice to not to.

"Don't. Not now", you stopped him from coming near with a hand extended towards him, swallowing thickly while your eyes focused on your shoes. Manny paused and squeezed his hands in a fist before reluctantly nodding his head and giving you space, his heart breaking apart in a million pieces at the distance between the two of you.

-

You've lost track of time by now. Spending your entire time helping the fallen and keeping track of Joel's health, your mind and body working like a machine. You were thankful for the distraction because it made you forgot about the fact that Manny was here, breathing the same air as you.

It's been almost 3 hours since they took Joel in. Tommy, Maria and Ellie joining you outside the room that he was being operated on. You hugged Maria as soon as you saw her, asking her if Benji was okay and she reassured you that he was. You breathed out in relief, glad that your family was alive, even though today will leave long lasting effects on their psyche and marks on their body as a reminder.

Maria left to check on the others and Tommy addressed you and Ellie in a serious tone, "What the hell happened out there?", you exchanged a nervous look with Ellie, who hadn't spoken much since you got here, choosing to stick by your side and observe everything silently.

"Tommy, they were Fireflies. Wanted to kill Joel for Salt Lake", you confessed quietly, Tommy's eyes widening in realization.

"Fuck", he whispered and ran a hand across his face. "They hurt you?", he asked curiously.

Joel had discussed about your past with Tommy in confidence before, not wanting to hide anything from his brother and so that a trustworthy person would be aware to keep you safe. Tommy took it better than you expected, with him being an Ex-Firefly himself, he understood your helplessness. Though, you still hadn't told Ellie, scared of her reaction and scared that it'll strain her and Joel's relationship further.

You shook your head no and Tommy asked you the dreaded question, "Who's the new guy?". You froze, unsure of how to explain to him about your situation with Manny.

You cleared your throat before confessing, "He uh-he was in the group. With me. And the others. We were...together before I came to Jackson", your voice shy and low. Tommy's face flashed with realization and he let out a sigh, understanding that this was a conversation to be had later.

"Alright, you guys get some rest. You're barely standin' straight", you opened your mouth to protest but Tommy stopped you, "I'll personally come to inform you if he wakes. Don't be so damn stubborn, go rest", he chided you, his southern drawl suddenly sounding stronger than before. You let out a huff of frustration and punched his arm lightly, walking away with Ellie bundled up in your arms. Tommy watched you go with a sad smile on his face.

-

You took Ellie home, putting her on strict bedrest and she went down with no protest, too tired to even argue with you. You decided to wash up, the events of the day taking a toll on you-your joints cracked and muscles spasmed with the smallest of movements.

After putting on fresh clothes, you decided to get yourself a glass of water, your throat parched and you heard a knock on the door. You let out a sigh and carried the glass of water with you to open the door. You almost dropped the glass.

"Hey", Manny greeted you hesitantly, his hands nervously stuffed inside his jacket's pockets. You gulped the water harshly before mumbling out a 'Hey' in response.

Nails tapping against the glass, you spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "How'd you find my house?", your eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Uh-I asked around...they said the house with the cherry blossom trees belongs to Joel, so, thought I'd find you here", Manny responded quietly and shrugged.

"Okay, did you need something?"

Manny looked at you in disbelief, "Need something? Angel, I haven't seen you in 5 years. I'm here for you", his voice cracking towards the end, eyebrows furrowed in distress.

You stiffened up before going back to put the glass on the coffee table and ushered Manny out of the house, closing the door behind you. Gesturing him to follow you towards the back of the house, you stood in front of him with your arms across your chest. You licked your lips and shook your head in frustration.

"Manny, why are you doing this now?", you asked him in an exhausted voice.

"I-I want to be with you, (Nickname). You have no idea how miserable I was-"

"No idea? No idea-", you scoffed in sarcasm and spread your arms out in exasperation, "I was the one who travelled alone to Jackson while feeling severely depressed because my boyfriend betrayed me for his- insane friends, and even after I found myself a family here, I still wanted to die because my mind wouldn't stop imagining said boyfriend here with me, and I'm the one who has no idea?", you rambled furiously, your eyes staring daggers at Manny.

He flinched at your outburst and turned his head to the side in shame, his neck shaded with a red tinge and veins popping out in strain.

"What do you know, huh? You had a whole group of people around you, catching you if you fall. I had no one. Even when I was with you, I was alone. You heard her, didn't you? That I was the odd one out?", you questioned him, leaning closer to make him look you in the eye.

Manny shot his head up at that, "No- don't say that, please. You weren't alone. I loved you then and I love you now. I just-", he broke off abruptly to swallow in guilt.

You grimaced, "You just what? You couldn't let go of your ego? Your desperation for vengeance and to prove that all of you are a strong unit? Even if you knew that Abby and her father were wrong?", you accused him, jabbing a finger into his chest. He stumbled back, his face crumpled in emotion, your harsh words hitting him straight into his heart.

"Yes, Yes! I was wrong, I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-I-I knew you were right from the moment you told you me, I knew we were wrong. I just- i was so blinded by the fact that someone had caused pain to one of my closest friends, I wanted to see him and Ellie suffer in the same way", he admitted shamefully, his face damp with tears and eyes bloodshot, hands clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles turned white.

You stared at him in disgust, "Manny, are you hearing yourself? What happened to you? She was a little girl-a fucking child. Joel was saving his daughter and that's what made you guys lose your minds? Not the fact that your friend and her father were committing the murder of a child?!", you glowered, your voice hoarse, face heated in anger and your breathing laboured.

You were hyperventilating, years of pent up frustration and sadness pouring out of you.

Manny sensed this and tried to soothe you, "Baby, you're panicking, please-", he came closer to hold your elbows and you shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me! I'm-you broke my heart. It's like I never knew you. How can you be so...heartless? You even participated in- in the sick torture that Abby was inflicting on my---on my dad. How could you, Manny?", you cried out, your voice strained with sorrow and heartbreak.

Manny felt like someone had stabbed him 10 times into the chest. Hell, he'd prefer being stabbed over being the reason for your tears and pain, wishing he had died instead.

His face twisted in pain and he got down on his knees, his hands holding yours and pressing his forehead against them, "I didn't, I swear I didn't agree to that. None of us did. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, angel. But, I'm here now. I've left all that for good. I can't take anymore sleepless nights without you next to me. I want a home with you--a family, and I promise that I'll get better. If I don't, I'll happily die from your hands. Just-please. Give me one chance, please. I'll do anything you ask me to", he begged into your hands, pressing desperate kisses to them and his tears dampening them.

You were too tired to react to that, choosing to limply hold his hands and stare into the distance, thinking of what to do next.

Just as you were going to speak up, Tommy came rushing into the backyard and paused to stare at the scene. He schooled his face into a neutral expression and called out to you, "Kid, Joel's awake", he announced in a breathless voice.

You snapped out of your trance and looked at Tommy in surprise. He nodded at you and you dropped Manny's hands to run all the way to the clinic. Tommy stared Manny down, observing his kneeling form closely and went over to stand by him.

From the corner of his eyes, Manny caught sight of a hand extended in front of him and he hesitantly grabbed it before the man pulled him up.

He came face to face with a tall man, who looked like he could've been his brother in another life- they had the same features and the same hair. The man ran his gaze over Manny in judgement before speaking up, "Let's get you some food. Then, we have lots to discuss", he instructed in his heavy southern twang and patted Manny on the shoulder, firmly.

-

"Joel?", you called out softly, walking over to stand next to his bed. One of his eyes was still swollen shut, the cuts on his face stitched up and the blood cleaned from his face. His knee was wrapped and elevated to keep the pressure off from it and you knew Joel would complain about it.

But he was breathing, his good eye fluttering behind the lid and his fingers twitching. He let out a groan and licked his lips to get ride of the dry feeling on them, his good eye slowly opening to focus on you. "Hey, kiddo", he mumbled in a scratchy voice.

You smiled sadly and offered, "You want some water, Pops?". Joel grunted in annoyance before whispering a 'yes'. You cradled his head in your hands and helped him sip the water before he asked you to lay him back down.

"You scared us to death, Joel", you confessed in a wavering voice and pinched your nose between your fingers. Joel looked at you with a sad expression on his face and lifted a weak hand for you to hold. You looked at him with tears in your eyes and grasped his hand carefully in both of yours.

"Sorry", he murmured guiltily, his face twisting in pain and from the efforts to control his tears from falling. "Thank you for saving me", he shot you a small smile.

You chuckled lowly and patted his hand, your chin wobbling from the tears lodged in your throat. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before clearing your throat. "Did Ellie come to see you?", you asked him curiously and he nodded lightly.

"Yeah. Didn't say much but... held my hand", his voice cracked with emotion and he smiled tearfully.

Your eyes welled up with tears of happiness for Joel and you brushed his hair back. "That's good. Baby steps, yeah?", you encouraged him and he nodded in agreement.

The room was quiet for a moment before he spoke up, "The one who wrapped my leg...that your man?", he teased lightly.

You paused, eyes widened and you felt your cheeks warm up, "How the hell did you see him?!", you sputtered out in disbelief.

Joel let out a huffed laugh, "So, he is. Easy on the eyes, I'll give ya that."

You groaned in embarrassment, your hands covering your face, "You're so annoying, Miller."

He chuckled softly before wincing and you scolded him to shut up. "Ya'll talked it out?", he asked you, referring to your situation with Manny.

Your face turned glum, eyes focusing on a loose thread on your jacket, "He asked me to forgive him...on his knees and everything", you mumbled.

Joel's face expressed shock as best as it could with all the cuts and one less eye. "Damn...and what'd you say?"

"Blasted off on him. I was so frustrated and hurt and angry...I just...took it out on him."

"That's a good thing. Now that the anger is out of your system, ya'll can finally have a mature conversation", Joel comforted you in that fatherly manner that he always does.

You furrowed your brows, "I don't know what to do, Joel. I-I'm so hurt. But-"

"But you love him a lot and wanna stay with him."

You let out a big sigh, "Yeah. I waited so long...he deserves to live in peace, too", you confessed, your lips set in a frown.

"Then listen to your heart. We've all done bad things, Kid. Can't pick and choose who's the better one, not in this world, at least. If you're gettin' a chance at happiness...grab it and hold it close", Joel suggested, his voice coated with longing.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat sniffled, "Thank you", squeezing his hand in gratitude. Joel gave you a half smile and squeezed your hand back.

-

Ellie took over your place next to Joel and your stomach cramped in hunger, realising you haven't eaten anything since morning. As you made your way to the eating hall, your mind kept replaying the conversation you had with Manny.

His tearful face and desperate kisses against your hand almost broke you. You thought about what Joel said, that nobody in this world was good anymore. You've all done bad things to survive, Manny just happened to go a little more extreme. But, did he not deserve to live peacefully with you? Did you really want to see him suffer? Could you live without hearing his voice or feeling his touch again? The answer was a plain and simple No.

He was the one who saved you, he was the one who taught you how to survive in this fucked up world, and he was the one who protected you from the evil around you. Maybe, now was the time to allow him to slow down, to let him have some peace, to let him enjoy a hot cup of coffee on the porch of your own house, to let him have a good night's sleep, to give him another chance. Because you were always sure of one thing, you would forever hold a special place for Manny Alvarez in your heart.

You found him in the eating hall, holed up into a corner table with a plate of food in front of him but he wasn't eating. He was cradling his head in his hands, pulling at his hair and staring at the table. You know he was feeling overwhelmed, not used to so much commotion around him. After all, you had been like this too, on your first day in Jackson.

Tommy spotted you across the hall and gestured you over, leaning against the bar counter. He was looking at Manny the whole time.

"He's not eaten a single thing since I brought him here. Been starin' at the table for the past half hour", Tommy informed you lowly.

You sighed and looked at Manny with pitiful eyes. "I know. He's probably overstimulated."

Tommy looked at the yearning look on your face and chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. You looked at him in confusion.

"A damn apocalypse out there and we still got fools in love over'ere", Tommy teased you.

You groaned loudly and slapped his shoulder, "You and your brother think that you're comedians or something."

Tommy's chuckled receded and he nudged you, "Go talk to him." You looked at him and frowned, nodding weakly before making your way over to where Manny sat.

You silently slid in the seat in front of him and scooped up some soup in the spoon, holding it up before clearing your throat. Manny snapped his head up and froze. His curls were sticking in all directions, eyes and face red from all the crying he did and mouth agape, as if he was not expecting you to sit in front of him. He truly looked at you then, how you looked so stunning even after being so exhausted.

You shifted uncomfortably, "My arm is hurting, are you gonna eat or not?", you murmured and shifted the spoon closer to his mouth.

He finally moved then, leaning closer to the spoon and closing his mouth around it before gulping, his eyes still fixated on your face.

"I-" "No. Eat first, then we can talk for as long as you want to. Do you wanna eat somewhere else?"

Manny blinked in surprise at your offer and how you sounded much more calm now. He simply nodded his head and you got up to pack his food into containers, him following you around like a lost puppy.

-

You settled down on the outdoor seating in Joel's backyard and let Manny finish his serving. You missed seeing him like this- alive and whole- in front of you. After he was done, he finished the glass of water you had set down for him and awkwardly shifted in his seat, not sure what to expect.

"You sure you wanna stay here?", you asked him suddenly. He tilted his head like a puppy and his brown eyes widened. "Yes...I-I want to."

"I'm not forcing you, you're still free to walk away and go back to Seattle. I don't want you to be here just for the sake of me."

"No! No, (Name), I came here for you. I told you that before, and I mean it. Please, give me a chance. I wanna- I wanna live with you", he sputtered out.

You assessed him closely, "If you try anything while you're here, I wont hesitate to kill you, you know that right?", you threatened him casually. He nodded his head vehemently.

"And you'll make up for your mistakes? Be kind to my family?", he nodded his head yet again, "Yes, I swear", he conceded in a sincere voice.

"And-..if I give you a chance, you won't betray me again?", your voice broke and your eyes welled up.

Manny froze when he realised what you said, "Wait. You- Yes. Yes, a thousand times, yes. I promise, I'll make it up to you our whole life", his voice shook with emotion, hands itching to hold you in his arms.

"Okay", you sniffled and nodded in agreement. Manny let out a content sigh and whispered an 'okay'. He'd do everything and anything you'd ask him to win you back in his life.

-

Jackson, 2031

You woke up to the sound of muffled chatter from the street and the chirps of little birds. Warm sunlight was pouring through the curtains, bathing your bedroom in a shade of yellow. You then registered the heavy arm around your middle, the sunlight making it look like it was painted in gold, the skin smooth and soft.

The breaths hitting your neck tickled you slightly and you turned around to face him- your Manny- still sleeping soundly with his mouth slightly open, giving you a view of his crooked lower teeth that you adored. His clean shaven face was glowing, the tiny moles scattered across his face like constellations and his cropped curls appearing soft to the touch—making him look boyish.

It’s been a year since Manny won you back. He’s been working so hard on proving himself to you by helping around the community, making amends with Joel and Ellie, trying to leave behind his past and harmful tendencies behind. He was much more calmer now, less brash, slowing down and enjoying mundane domesticity with you.

Truthfully, he didn’t need to do much. All he had to do was be himself. You never fell out of love with him, just upset with how far he’d let himself stray. But, Manny was home now, sleeping in later and waking up by loving on you—his day starting and ending with worshipping you. He was still the same Manny when you were both 20 year olds- overprotective and fiercely loyal. Except now, he let you do patrols only with him, Joel, Ellie or Tommy as your partners.

Tommy and Joel had surprisingly taken him under their wings, teaching him construction work, encouraging him to help around in the community and utilising his shooting skills to protect Jackson Hole. They were impressed with how agile and what a graceful fighter he was.

They never missed a chance to tease you whenever you admired him working around the town. You’d act annoyed but deep down, your heart would be soaring with happiness to see your family accept Manny with open arms.

Although, Maria and Ellie were the last ones to come around. Maria got used to Manny a little earlier, as Benji was so enraptured with him that she came around quickly. Manny had taken it upon himself to teach Benji football and they would hang out day and night, the adorable sight making you cry always.

Ellie, on the other hand, she still held a slight grudge against him (rightfully so) so she maintained a safe distance from him. Manny confessed to you that she lowkey scared him and you had laughed at that, telling him that he should be scared of her.

Another person that held grudge against Manny was Jesse, for the way he handled Dina and you excused that too, but Manny and Jesse seemed to have a silly testosterone fight going on and you steered clear of it, not interested in it in any way. Dina kept Manny on his toes, annoying him like a younger sibling and it was so entertaining for you to watch him be grumpy around her.

The elder townsfolk absolutely adored Manny and you- the abuelas cooing over him while pinching his cheeks everytime he charmed them and spoke to them in Spanish, and taking you by your hands to their houses to feed you their homemade dishes. Manny always had a goofy smile by the time you returned home, enjoying the attention. And you laughed in adoration, loving the fact that you got to see that shy and bashful blush across his cheeks more and more often.

A shocking thing that happened to Manny— in the entirety of you knowing him, you’ve never seen him unsure, shy or hesitant about anything. That changed as soon as he stepped foot in Jackson and you saw it in the dining hall, with him sitting in the corner, away from everyone. In the beginning, he’d enter any room without turning on the light, forgetting that Jackson had electricity. You’d lightly come up behind him and turn it on, his body tensing and his face flushing with red when he realised it was you.

He’d jump around the loud noises, as Jackson would get rowdy during meal times or events, he even refused to sleep with his back to the door, wanting to stay vigilant and alert at all times. After spending your whole life looking over your shoulder, this was bound to happen and your heart broke for him, wanting to reassure and comfort him every time he felt like that. Watching him look at everything in child-like wonder made your chest hurt with love and the feeling of wanting to protect him forever.

“You’re thinking so loud”, he mumbled sleepily, arms tugging you closer to him. You blinked, smiling gently and cradled his cheek into your hand, caressing it with your thumb. “Good morning, Em”, you replied softly and pinched his cheek.

He flashed you his half-smile and slipped a hand under your shirt, pressing a kiss into your palm, “Mornin’, angel”, he finally opened his eyes and they shone like earthen pools in the sunlight. The urge to go back to sleep was strong, the bed sheets warm and comfy with your shared body heat, Manny’s body soft and sturdy against yours and his hand under your shirt gently rubbing your bare back. But you had to get up and start work or else Maria would be upset for the whole day.

“C’mon, we gotta get up, baby. You’ve got to help Joel with the restoration today.”

Manny grumbled and slid down to bury his head in your chest, legs trapping you against him. “No. 5 minutes more, please.”

“Manny…you know how Joel gets. He’ll do everything on his own even if his joints lock up. C’mon, let’s get to work”, you cooed at him and rubbed his back gently.

Joel was fully recovered now, but the doctors told you that his knee injury would give him chronic knee pain, which made sitting or standing for longer hours difficult for his aging body. Manny, Tommy and Jesse tried their best to take off the burden but Joel Miller was nothing if not stubborn. “You’ve to teach the kids as well, let’s go.”

Manny groaned, the sound vibrating against your chest, “Swear to god, you Millers stress me out on purpose”, and he squeezed your waist.

You giggled and slapped his back lightly before he propped himself up on an arm and admired you with doe eyes.

You shifted in unease, “Stop looking at me like that”, you mumbled and tried to close his eyes with your hand. He grabbed it and rested it on his chest.

“Hey, I’ve gotta make up for lost time. I missed seeing your beautiful face next to me for five years”, he replied in a quiet voice. You exchanged bashful smiles and he leaned in to press a loving kiss on your lips and murmured, “I love you”, against them.

You looked at him with your eyes shining in tears and jutted your bottom lip out. “I love you more, Em”, Manny giggled and squished your cheeks in between his fingers, your combined joyful laughter echoing in the still room of your own house— the house that you shared with Manny and would be sharing until you were both greying and wrinkly.

Fin.

-

AN: AAAA im so happy for them pls…I love domestic Manny so much. Hope y’all liked this mini series 🥹🩷 please like and reblog!

taglist: @taylorsroxy @parkersjoy @aomi-recs @serendipity-29 @lucycarlisleswife @laurenjbb @onmyknees4kai @groovycass @spideybrie @yvonne-dump @monselxo @this-girl-is-tired

[dameronspector]

Getaway Car (Part 3)

Pairing: Manny Alvarez x GN!Reader, Joel Miller x Platonic!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Summary: Manny stayed back, you saved Joel and safely returned to Jackson. He’d beg on his knees for forgiveness, but would you forgive him?

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort from Joel, Joel is a father to Reader, Reader misses Manny so much, Mentions of Depression and Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Death, Blood, Gore, Joel Miller Is Saved, Reader hates Abby and the group, Manny begs for forgiveness, reunions, domestic Manny, that’s all I think!

AN: mwah I love these two I love manny I love joel I love Tommy I love Ellie just..yeah 🩷 enjoy! This is the final part!

PS: I don't know anything about the game, my characterisation is based off the wiki information, the show and my own imagination. Plus, I headcanoned the QZ where they first met as Miami because that's Danny's hometown.

The more he thought of it, the more he knew that he wanted to stay back with you. He’d do what he had promised himself 5 years ago- beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

He raised his tear-filled eyes and looked at you, doting on Joel and Ellie. You had called her your sister. You had a family. And he’d be lying if he didn’t want to be a part of your family. He wanted you to love on him and care for him. Nora took one look at him and patted his shoulder, him turning around to hug her and Mel for the last time. “Take care of Abby. And…please, keep her away from (Name)”, Manny whispered in a pained voice. Nora offered him a terse nod and departed from him, leaving him to stare at you with longing in his eyes.

You didn’t notice the others leave. You didn’t notice Manny being the only one who didn’t leave. Your entire body was dialed onto Joel-all you could think of, was how to help him. You carefully straightened his body, making him lay on his back and he let out pained whimpers, hands tightening around Ellie’s.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I need to check your injuries, Joel”, you soothed him. Ellie was staring at him with her cheeks damp and face red due to her crying. “El, can you check if there’s a stick or something for his leg? We gotta-”

“Here.” You snapped your eyes up to look at-

“Manny?”, you whispered in disbelief. You noticed the way he swallowed and simply extended a broken table leg to tie around Joel’s injured knee. “Wrap this below his knee and straighten his leg, I’ll tie it up”, he mumbled to Ellie and got to work.

You stared at the scene in shock, Ellie’s face mirroring yours. He had stayed back.

“This is gonna hurt”, he warned you and you immediately went to ground Joel. You looked down at his bloody face, one of his eyes swollen shut.

“Hey, Joel? This is gonna hurt but we gotta do it to help you, okay?”, you gently cooed to him and held his hand tightly in yours, him responding in painful grunts.

Manny slowly straightened Joel’s leg and Joel screamed in agony, causing you to shut your eyes tightly and look away, Ellie doing the same and letting out a cry. Your body shook with sobs, Manny watching you closely, his heart hurting at that state of you. Directly or indirectly, he was the cause of your pain.

Finally, Joel stopped screaming and Manny announced that he was done. You brought your tearful eyes back to Joel and beckoned Ellie to come closer, her snuggling up to you and laying a hand on Joel’s chest- which was thankfully moving.

You brushed Joel’s damp hair away from his forehead and looked at Manny. “Thank you”, you managed to croak out, your eyes expressing your genuine gratitude for his help. Manny simply nodded his head and looked away towards Dina. “I’ll-I’ll help her. Do you wanna try calling someone for help?”, he offered in a careful tone.

You gave him a terse nod and he brought over the comm to you, his fingers brushing against yours. Your stomach flipped in excitement at feeling his touch after 5 long years.

-

After trying to radio Jesse for 20 minutes straight, the door to the room burst open and Jesse arrived on the scene. By now, Joel was just resting his eyes, exhausted from the blood loss and everything. You and Ellie kept a vigilant eye on him. Manny stayed by Dina, trying to keep her warm by shifting her near the fire while occasionally darting his eyes to you.

His chest hurt at how heartbreakingly beautiful you looked. He missed seeing you in front of him.

Your head snapped towards the sound, body deflating in relief at Jesse’s arrival. “Jesse-”, your voice broke off by another wave of tears. Jesse looked horrified but he masked it, not wanting to freak you or Ellie out.

“It’s okay, we’re going home now. Come on”, he soothed you and helped you and Ellie up, you held onto his arms tightly.

Manny’s stomach twisted in jealousy.

“Where’s Dina-”, Jesse questioned and turned to look around the room before his eyes fell on Manny and Dina. “Who are you?”, he asked Manny sharply, eyes assessing him.

You grabbed Jesse’s arm, “I know him, it’s alright. You two, help Joel. We need to find something that will make it easier for him and us to travel. Ellie and I will help Dina, go”, you reassured him before making your way to Dina. Manny looked at you and nodded his head in understanding, making his way over to help Joel and Jesse.

-

After finding a sledge somewhere deep inside a closet and strapping Joel in, the five of you made your way back to Jackson. The blizzard was over now, thankfully, and your horses could walk properly again, which helped you reach Jackson earlier.

Because Manny didn’t have a horse, he had to sit behind you and you were trying your best not to lean against his body heat, his hands twitching to hold your waist and bring you closer to his chest. The whole ride back to Jackson had your body tense and stiff, trying to maintain a safe distance from Manny.

You reached Jackson and almost fell off the horse. The town looked like it had endured a massacre.

The gate was broken down, a pile of infected bodies lying on top of each other in front of it, the wall was completely destroyed, smoke and ash curling in the air, a few living fires making the snow melt and the roads slippery. The insides were just as bad-- houses and shops were broken down, bodies of your fellow townspeople lying around, some of them being executed because they were bitten and in between all of that was Tommy, trying to help the fallen. He had a cut on his face, eyebrows deeply furrowed, face contorted in stress and eyes shining with tears.

Your chest twisted in pain at the sight of your home being torn apart like this. You hurriedly got off Max and ran towards Tommy—Jesse and Manny staying back to help Ellie, Dina and Joel.

"Tommy!", you cried out and ran towards him. Tommy snapped his head up and his face contorted in relief at seeing all of you return, though he couldn't help but notice Joel's absence, his heart skipping a beat.

"Oh, thank Christ, you're all okay", he breathed out and brought you in a bone crushing hug. You hugged him just as tight, your face smushed against his shoulder and eyes shut tightly.

Tommy broke the hug and held you at arms length, eyes searching behind you, "Where's Joel, Kid?", he asked breathlessly.

Your eyes filled up with tears and you managed to choke out, "Later, we need to treat him first. What happened here, Tom?"

Tommy inhaled sharply and shook his head, "Horde attack. Broke down the wall so we had to flame 'em- hence the fires. Destroyed all the buildings and shit." Your eyes widened at that.

"Get Joel to the clinic. I'll meet you there soon", Tommy instructed you and you departed with a terse nod. You made your way back to where Jesse and Manny stood and helped them pull Joel towards the clinic meanwhile Ellie helped escort Dina.

They took in Joel immediately after looking at the state he was in. You let out an exhausted sigh and crumpled down on the corridor floor, burying your head in your hands. You were running on pure adrenaline for the past few hours, not getting a chance to properly come to terms with what had happened and now that you closed your eyes, all you could see was Joel's bloody face and the way he screamed in pain.

You felt your breath hitch, chest constricting painfully and you groaned weakly, hands clawing at your chest to get rid of the feeling. In your panic, you didn't notice someone crouch down in front of you, their hands grabbing yours and putting them on their chest, near their heart.

"Breathe with me, c'mon", a voice called out to you, your brain fuzzily registering it. You felt their chest go up and down as they took big breaths to encourage you to do so. You managed to inhale shakily, letting the oxygen inflate your chest before letting it out. After doing this for 5 more times, the weight on your chest slowly disappeared and that's when you realised who helped you- Manny.

His brown eyes were looking at you in concern, a frown pulling at his lips and hands still holding yours against his chest. You stared at him blankly before snatching your hands away from his, getting up in the process. He followed behind closely, trying to get you to talk to him, "(Name)-", but you cut him off, not in the headspace to talk to him yet.

You still had to wrap your head around the fact that he was alive and breathing, and the fact that he had betrayed you even after you gave him a choice to not to.

"Don't. Not now", you stopped him from coming near with a hand extended towards him, swallowing thickly while your eyes focused on your shoes. Manny paused and squeezed his hands in a fist before reluctantly nodding his head and giving you space, his heart breaking apart in a million pieces at the distance between the two of you.

-

You've lost track of time by now. Spending your entire time helping the fallen and keeping track of Joel's health, your mind and body working like a machine. You were thankful for the distraction because it made you forgot about the fact that Manny was here, breathing the same air as you.

It's been almost 3 hours since they took Joel in. Tommy, Maria and Ellie joining you outside the room that he was being operated on. You hugged Maria as soon as you saw her, asking her if Benji was okay and she reassured you that he was. You breathed out in relief, glad that your family was alive, even though today will leave long lasting effects on their psyche and marks on their body as a reminder.

Maria left to check on the others and Tommy addressed you and Ellie in a serious tone, "What the hell happened out there?", you exchanged a nervous look with Ellie, who hadn't spoken much since you got here, choosing to stick by your side and observe everything silently.

"Tommy, they were Fireflies. Wanted to kill Joel for Salt Lake", you confessed quietly, Tommy's eyes widening in realization.

"Fuck", he whispered and ran a hand across his face. "They hurt you?", he asked curiously.

Joel had discussed about your past with Tommy in confidence before, not wanting to hide anything from his brother and so that a trustworthy person would be aware to keep you safe. Tommy took it better than you expected, with him being an Ex-Firefly himself, he understood your helplessness. Though, you still hadn't told Ellie, scared of her reaction and scared that it'll strain her and Joel's relationship further.

You shook your head no and Tommy asked you the dreaded question, "Who's the new guy?". You froze, unsure of how to explain to him about your situation with Manny.

You cleared your throat before confessing, "He uh-he was in the group. With me. And the others. We were...together before I came to Jackson", your voice shy and low. Tommy's face flashed with realization and he let out a sigh, understanding that this was a conversation to be had later.

"Alright, you guys get some rest. You're barely standin' straight", you opened your mouth to protest but Tommy stopped you, "I'll personally come to inform you if he wakes. Don't be so damn stubborn, go rest", he chided you, his southern drawl suddenly sounding stronger than before. You let out a huff of frustration and punched his arm lightly, walking away with Ellie bundled up in your arms. Tommy watched you go with a sad smile on his face.

-

You took Ellie home, putting her on strict bedrest and she went down with no protest, too tired to even argue with you. You decided to wash up, the events of the day taking a toll on you-your joints cracked and muscles spasmed with the smallest of movements.

After putting on fresh clothes, you decided to get yourself a glass of water, your throat parched and you heard a knock on the door. You let out a sigh and carried the glass of water with you to open the door. You almost dropped the glass.

"Hey", Manny greeted you hesitantly, his hands nervously stuffed inside his jacket's pockets. You gulped the water harshly before mumbling out a 'Hey' in response.

Nails tapping against the glass, you spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "How'd you find my house?", your eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Uh-I asked around...they said the house with the cherry blossom trees belongs to Joel, so, thought I'd find you here", Manny responded quietly and shrugged.

"Okay, did you need something?"

Manny looked at you in disbelief, "Need something? Angel, I haven't seen you in 5 years. I'm here for you", his voice cracking towards the end, eyebrows furrowed in distress.

You stiffened up before going back to put the glass on the coffee table and ushered Manny out of the house, closing the door behind you. Gesturing him to follow you towards the back of the house, you stood in front of him with your arms across your chest. You licked your lips and shook your head in frustration.

"Manny, why are you doing this now?", you asked him in an exhausted voice.

"I-I want to be with you, (Nickname). You have no idea how miserable I was-"

"No idea? No idea-", you scoffed in sarcasm and spread your arms out in exasperation, "I was the one who travelled alone to Jackson while feeling severely depressed because my boyfriend betrayed me for his- insane friends, and even after I found myself a family here, I still wanted to die because my mind wouldn't stop imagining said boyfriend here with me, and I'm the one who has no idea?", you rambled furiously, your eyes staring daggers at Manny.

He flinched at your outburst and turned his head to the side in shame, his neck shaded with a red tinge and veins popping out in strain.

"What do you know, huh? You had a whole group of people around you, catching you if you fall. I had no one. Even when I was with you, I was alone. You heard her, didn't you? That I was the odd one out?", you questioned him, leaning closer to make him look you in the eye.

Manny shot his head up at that, "No- don't say that, please. You weren't alone. I loved you then and I love you now. I just-", he broke off abruptly to swallow in guilt.

You grimaced, "You just what? You couldn't let go of your ego? Your desperation for vengeance and to prove that all of you are a strong unit? Even if you knew that Abby and her father were wrong?", you accused him, jabbing a finger into his chest. He stumbled back, his face crumpled in emotion, your harsh words hitting him straight into his heart.

"Yes, Yes! I was wrong, I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-I-I knew you were right from the moment you told you me, I knew we were wrong. I just- i was so blinded by the fact that someone had caused pain to one of my closest friends, I wanted to see him and Ellie suffer in the same way", he admitted shamefully, his face damp with tears and eyes bloodshot, hands clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles turned white.

You stared at him in disgust, "Manny, are you hearing yourself? What happened to you? She was a little girl-a fucking child. Joel was saving his daughter and that's what made you guys lose your minds? Not the fact that your friend and her father were committing the murder of a child?!", you glowered, your voice hoarse, face heated in anger and your breathing laboured.

You were hyperventilating, years of pent up frustration and sadness pouring out of you.

Manny sensed this and tried to soothe you, "Baby, you're panicking, please-", he came closer to hold your elbows and you shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me! I'm-you broke my heart. It's like I never knew you. How can you be so...heartless? You even participated in- in the sick torture that Abby was inflicting on my---on my dad. How could you, Manny?", you cried out, your voice strained with sorrow and heartbreak.

Manny felt like someone had stabbed him 10 times into the chest. Hell, he'd prefer being stabbed over being the reason for your tears and pain, wishing he had died instead.

His face twisted in pain and he got down on his knees, his hands holding yours and pressing his forehead against them, "I didn't, I swear I didn't agree to that. None of us did. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, angel. But, I'm here now. I've left all that for good. I can't take anymore sleepless nights without you next to me. I want a home with you--a family, and I promise that I'll get better. If I don't, I'll happily die from your hands. Just-please. Give me one chance, please. I'll do anything you ask me to", he begged into your hands, pressing desperate kisses to them and his tears dampening them.

You were too tired to react to that, choosing to limply hold his hands and stare into the distance, thinking of what to do next.

Just as you were going to speak up, Tommy came rushing into the backyard and paused to stare at the scene. He schooled his face into a neutral expression and called out to you, "Kid, Joel's awake", he announced in a breathless voice.

You snapped out of your trance and looked at Tommy in surprise. He nodded at you and you dropped Manny's hands to run all the way to the clinic. Tommy stared Manny down, observing his kneeling form closely and went over to stand by him.

From the corner of his eyes, Manny caught sight of a hand extended in front of him and he hesitantly grabbed it before the man pulled him up.

He came face to face with a tall man, who looked like he could've been his brother in another life- they had the same features and the same hair. The man ran his gaze over Manny in judgement before speaking up, "Let's get you some food. Then, we have lots to discuss", he instructed in his heavy southern twang and patted Manny on the shoulder, firmly.

-

"Joel?", you called out softly, walking over to stand next to his bed. One of his eyes was still swollen shut, the cuts on his face stitched up and the blood cleaned from his face. His knee was wrapped and elevated to keep the pressure off from it and you knew Joel would complain about it.

But he was breathing, his good eye fluttering behind the lid and his fingers twitching. He let out a groan and licked his lips to get ride of the dry feeling on them, his good eye slowly opening to focus on you. "Hey, kiddo", he mumbled in a scratchy voice.

You smiled sadly and offered, "You want some water, Pops?". Joel grunted in annoyance before whispering a 'yes'. You cradled his head in your hands and helped him sip the water before he asked you to lay him back down.

"You scared us to death, Joel", you confessed in a wavering voice and pinched your nose between your fingers. Joel looked at you with a sad expression on his face and lifted a weak hand for you to hold. You looked at him with tears in your eyes and grasped his hand carefully in both of yours.

"Sorry", he murmured guiltily, his face twisting in pain and from the efforts to control his tears from falling. "Thank you for saving me", he shot you a small smile.

You chuckled lowly and patted his hand, your chin wobbling from the tears lodged in your throat. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before clearing your throat. "Did Ellie come to see you?", you asked him curiously and he nodded lightly.

"Yeah. Didn't say much but... held my hand", his voice cracked with emotion and he smiled tearfully.

Your eyes welled up with tears of happiness for Joel and you brushed his hair back. "That's good. Baby steps, yeah?", you encouraged him and he nodded in agreement.

The room was quiet for a moment before he spoke up, "The one who wrapped my leg...that your man?", he teased lightly.

You paused, eyes widened and you felt your cheeks warm up, "How the hell did you see him?!", you sputtered out in disbelief.

Joel let out a huffed laugh, "So, he is. Easy on the eyes, I'll give ya that."

You groaned in embarrassment, your hands covering your face, "You're so annoying, Miller."

He chuckled softly before wincing and you scolded him to shut up. "Ya'll talked it out?", he asked you, referring to your situation with Manny.

Your face turned glum, eyes focusing on a loose thread on your jacket, "He asked me to forgive him...on his knees and everything", you mumbled.

Joel's face expressed shock as best as it could with all the cuts and one less eye. "Damn...and what'd you say?"

"Blasted off on him. I was so frustrated and hurt and angry...I just...took it out on him."

"That's a good thing. Now that the anger is out of your system, ya'll can finally have a mature conversation", Joel comforted you in that fatherly manner that he always does.

You furrowed your brows, "I don't know what to do, Joel. I-I'm so hurt. But-"

"But you love him a lot and wanna stay with him."

You let out a big sigh, "Yeah. I waited so long...he deserves to live in peace, too", you confessed, your lips set in a frown.

"Then listen to your heart. We've all done bad things, Kid. Can't pick and choose who's the better one, not in this world, at least. If you're gettin' a chance at happiness...grab it and hold it close", Joel suggested, his voice coated with longing.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat sniffled, "Thank you", squeezing his hand in gratitude. Joel gave you a half smile and squeezed your hand back.

-

Ellie took over your place next to Joel and your stomach cramped in hunger, realising you haven't eaten anything since morning. As you made your way to the eating hall, your mind kept replaying the conversation you had with Manny.

His tearful face and desperate kisses against your hand almost broke you. You thought about what Joel said, that nobody in this world was good anymore. You've all done bad things to survive, Manny just happened to go a little more extreme. But, did he not deserve to live peacefully with you? Did you really want to see him suffer? Could you live without hearing his voice or feeling his touch again? The answer was a plain and simple No.

He was the one who saved you, he was the one who taught you how to survive in this fucked up world, and he was the one who protected you from the evil around you. Maybe, now was the time to allow him to slow down, to let him have some peace, to let him enjoy a hot cup of coffee on the porch of your own house, to let him have a good night's sleep, to give him another chance. Because you were always sure of one thing, you would forever hold a special place for Manny Alvarez in your heart.

You found him in the eating hall, holed up into a corner table with a plate of food in front of him but he wasn't eating. He was cradling his head in his hands, pulling at his hair and staring at the table. You know he was feeling overwhelmed, not used to so much commotion around him. After all, you had been like this too, on your first day in Jackson.

Tommy spotted you across the hall and gestured you over, leaning against the bar counter. He was looking at Manny the whole time.

"He's not eaten a single thing since I brought him here. Been starin' at the table for the past half hour", Tommy informed you lowly.

You sighed and looked at Manny with pitiful eyes. "I know. He's probably overstimulated."

Tommy looked at the yearning look on your face and chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. You looked at him in confusion.

"A damn apocalypse out there and we still got fools in love over'ere", Tommy teased you.

You groaned loudly and slapped his shoulder, "You and your brother think that you're comedians or something."

Tommy's chuckles receded and he nudged you, "Go talk to him." You looked at him and frowned, nodding weakly before making your way over to where Manny sat.

You silently slid in the seat in front of him and scooped up some soup in the spoon, holding it up before clearing your throat. Manny snapped his head up and froze. His curls were sticking in all directions, eyes and face red from all the crying he did and mouth agape, as if he was not expecting you to sit in front of him. He truly looked at you then, how you looked so stunning even after being so exhausted.

You shifted uncomfortably, "My arm is hurting, are you gonna eat or not?", you murmured and shifted the spoon closer to his mouth.

He finally moved then, leaning closer to the spoon and closing his mouth around it before gulping, his eyes still fixated on your face.

"I-" "No. Eat first, then we can talk for as long as you want to. Do you wanna eat somewhere else?"

Manny blinked in surprise at your offer and how you sounded much more calm now. He simply nodded his head and you got up to pack his food into containers, him following you around like a lost puppy.

-

You settled down on the outdoor seating in Joel's backyard and let Manny finish his serving. You missed seeing him like this- alive and whole- in front of you. After he was done, he finished the glass of water you had set down for him and awkwardly shifted in his seat, not sure what to expect.

"You sure you wanna stay here?", you asked him suddenly. He tilted his head like a puppy and his brown eyes widened. "Yes...I-I want to."

"I'm not forcing you, you're still free to walk away and go back to Seattle. I don't want you to be here just for the sake of me."

"No! No, (Name), I came here for you. I told you that before, and I mean it. Please, give me a chance. I wanna- I wanna live with you", he sputtered out.

You assessed him closely, "If you try anything while you're here, I wont hesitate to kill you, you know that right?", you threatened him casually. He nodded his head vehemently.

"And you'll make up for your mistakes? Be kind to my family?", he nodded his head yet again, "Yes, I swear", he conceded in a sincere voice.

"And-..if I give you a chance, you won't betray me again?", your voice broke and your eyes welled up.

Manny froze when he realised what you said, "Wait. You- Yes. Yes, a thousand times, yes. I promise, I'll make it up to you our whole life", his voice shook with emotion, hands itching to hold you in his arms.

"Okay", you sniffled and nodded in agreement. Manny let out a content sigh and whispered an 'okay'. He'd do everything and anything you'd ask him to win you back in his life.

-

Jackson, 2031

You woke up to the sound of muffled chatter from the street and the chirps of little birds. Warm sunlight was pouring through the curtains, bathing your bedroom in a shade of yellow. You then registered the heavy arm around your middle, the sunlight making it look like it was painted in gold, the skin smooth and soft.

The breaths hitting your neck tickled you slightly and you turned around to face him- your Manny- still sleeping soundly with his mouth slightly open, giving you a view of his crooked lower teeth that you adored. His clean shaven face was glowing, the tiny moles scattered across his face like constellations and his cropped curls appearing soft to the touch—making him look boyish.

It’s been a year since Manny won you back. He’s been working so hard on proving himself to you by helping around the community, making amends with Joel and Ellie, trying to leave behind his past and harmful tendencies behind. He was much more calmer now, less brash, slowing down and enjoying mundane domesticity with you.

Truthfully, he didn’t need to do much. All he had to do was be himself. You never fell out of love with him, just upset with how far he’d let himself stray. But, Manny was home now, sleeping in later and waking up by loving on you—his day starting and ending with worshipping you. He was still the same Manny when you were both 20 year olds- overprotective and fiercely loyal. Except now, he let you do patrols only with him, Joel, Ellie or Tommy as your partners.

Tommy and Joel had surprisingly taken him under their wings, teaching him construction work, encouraging him to help around in the community and utilising his shooting skills to protect Jackson Hole. They were impressed with how agile and what a graceful fighter he was.

They never missed a chance to tease you whenever you admired him working around the town. You’d act annoyed but deep down, your heart would be soaring with happiness to see your family accept Manny with open arms.

Although, Maria and Ellie were the last ones to come around. Maria got used to Manny a little earlier, as Benji was so enraptured with him that she came around quickly. Manny had taken it upon himself to teach Benji football and they would hang out day and night, the adorable sight making you cry always.

Ellie, on the other hand, she still held a slight grudge against him (rightfully so) so she maintained a safe distance from him. Manny confessed to you that she lowkey scared him and you had laughed at that, telling him that he should be scared of her.

Another person that held grudge against Manny was Jesse, for the way he handled Dina and you excused that too, but Manny and Jesse seemed to have a silly testosterone fight going on and you steered clear of it, not interested in it in any way. Dina kept Manny on his toes, annoying him like a younger sibling and it was so entertaining for you to watch him be grumpy around her.

The elder townsfolk absolutely adored Manny and you- the abuelas cooing over him while pinching his cheeks everytime he charmed them and spoke to them in Spanish, and taking you by your hands to their houses to feed you their homemade dishes. Manny always had a goofy smile by the time you returned home, enjoying the attention. And you laughed in adoration, loving the fact that you got to see that shy and bashful blush across his cheeks more and more often.

A shocking thing that happened to Manny— in the entirety of you knowing him, you’ve never seen him unsure, shy or hesitant about anything. That changed as soon as he stepped foot in Jackson and you saw it in the dining hall, with him sitting in the corner, away from everyone. In the beginning, he’d enter any room without turning on the light, forgetting that Jackson had electricity. You’d lightly come up behind him and turn it on, his body tensing and his face flushing with red when he realised it was you.

He’d jump around the loud noises, as Jackson would get rowdy during meal times or events, he even refused to sleep with his back to the door, wanting to stay vigilant and alert at all times. After spending your whole life looking over your shoulder, this was bound to happen and your heart broke for him, wanting to reassure and comfort him every time he felt like that. Watching him look at everything in child-like wonder made your chest hurt with love and the feeling of wanting to protect him forever.

“You’re thinking so loud”, he mumbled sleepily, arms tugging you closer to him. You blinked, smiling gently and cradled his cheek into your hand, caressing it with your thumb. “Good morning, Em”, you replied softly and pinched his cheek.

He flashed you his half-smile and slipped a hand under your shirt, pressing a kiss into your palm, “Mornin’, angel”, he finally opened his eyes and they shone like earthen pools in the sunlight. The urge to go back to sleep was strong, the bed sheets warm and comfy with your shared body heat, Manny’s body soft and sturdy against yours and his hand under your shirt gently rubbing your bare back. But you had to get up and start work or else Maria would be upset for the whole day.

“C’mon, we gotta get up, baby. You’ve got to help Joel with the restoration today.”

Manny grumbled and slid down to bury his head in your chest, legs trapping you against him. “No. 5 minutes more, please.”

“Manny…you know how Joel gets. He’ll do everything on his own even if his joints lock up. C’mon, let’s get to work”, you cooed at him and rubbed his back gently.

Joel was fully recovered now, but the doctors told you that his knee injury would give him chronic knee pain, which made sitting or standing for longer hours difficult for his aging body. Manny, Tommy and Jesse tried their best to take off the burden but Joel Miller was nothing if not stubborn. “You’ve to teach the kids as well, let’s go.”

Manny groaned, the sound vibrating against your chest, “Swear to god, you Millers stress me out on purpose”, and he squeezed your waist.

You giggled and slapped his back lightly before he propped himself up on an arm and admired you with doe eyes.

You shifted in unease, “Stop looking at me like that”, you mumbled and tried to close his eyes with your hand. He grabbed it and rested it on his chest.

“Hey, I’ve gotta make up for lost time. I missed seeing your beautiful face next to me for five years”, he replied in a quiet voice. You exchanged bashful smiles and he leaned in to press a loving kiss on your lips and murmured, “I love you”, against them.

You looked at him with your eyes shining in tears and jutted your bottom lip out. “I love you more, Em”, Manny giggled and squished your cheeks in between his fingers, your combined joyful laughter echoing in the still room of your own house— the house that you shared with Manny and would be sharing until you were both greying and wrinkly.

Fin.

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AN: AAAA im so happy for them pls…I love domestic Manny so much. Hope y’all liked this mini series 🥹🩷 please like and reblog!

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