he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt half gone, skin still warm and faintly glowing, a sloppy bandage wrapped around his side like it’s a joke. like he didn’t just scare the absolute shit out of you.
you’re standing across the room, arms crossed so tight it almost hurts, jaw clenched, eyes burning.
“say something,” you finally snap.
johnny looks up, confused. “i’m fine, babe.”
that’s when you lose it.
“you’re not fine,” your voice cracks. “you ran straight into danger like you were invincible. like i wouldn’t have to watch you bleed. like i wouldn’t—”
you stop yourself, breath shaking. he softens instantly.
“hey,” he says quietly. “i was protecting you.”
“i didn’t ask you to,” you shoot back, tears threatening. “i didn’t ask you to get hurt for me.”
his smile fades. he stands slowly, careful despite himself.
“i’d do it again,” he says honestly. and that’s the wrong answer.
you turn away, blinking fast. “you don’t get to decide that. you don’t get to scare me like that and then act like it’s romantic.”
silence. then footsteps. slow. cautious.
“look at me,” johnny murmurs.
you don’t.
his hand finds your wrist gently, thumb warm, grounding. “baby… i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just— the thought of something happening to you? it makes me stupid.”
you finally face him. your eyes are glassy.
“do you have any idea what it felt like?” you whisper. “watching you fall? thinking i might lose you?”
his breath catches.
“hey,” he says, voice breaking just a little now. “come here.”
you shake your head. “i’m mad at you.”
he steps closer anyway. “i know.”
then he cups your face, thumbs brushing the tears you tried so hard not to let fall.
“i’m sorry,” he says softly. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i just… love you. too much, sometimes.”
your resolve crumbles.
“don’t do that again,” you plead. “don’t make me imagine a world without you.”
johnny presses his forehead to yours.
“never,” he promises. “i swear. i’ll be more careful. i’ll think. i’ll listen.”
you sniffle. “you’re an idiot.”
he smiles weakly. “your idiot.”
then he kisses you.
slow. careful. like he’s afraid you might pull away. like he’s reminding both of you that he’s still here. alive. warm. real.
your hands clutch his shirt, grounding yourself in him.
when you pull back, he presses a kiss to your temple.
“everything’s okay,” he whispers. “i’ve got you. and you’ve got me.”
you exhale, finally letting yourself relax against his chest.
Steve x fem!reader | angst, eventual smut, pregnancy fic, mentions of abortion | 1.8K | miniseries
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The week that followed, no one saw you or Steve.
He called Robin, told her that Nightshift Nick needed to cover him for a couple of days, that everything was fine, it was just— it was just—
He stayed in your tiny apartment with you, alternating between letting you cry into his chest and letting you sleep in his arms. He did his best to keep you fed, a sandwich for dinner, some cereal when you lifted your head from your pillow. Normally, Steve would watch your tiny coffee machine work overtime, already grinding away the beans you loved to treat yourself to before you’d opened the curtains.
But the morning after your medical check, you’d padded barefoot and soft into your kitchen, reaching for a mug before stopping. He could see you through the open bedroom door, where he still lay in his boxers, the pink-orange light of the sun barely making its way through the closed blinds. He watched you hesitate, staring hard at the cup, the coffee machine. After a few seconds, you put the mug back and rubbed hard at your face.
He never asked you about it.
He hadn’t really asked you anything since that night at his, not really. Not much more than if you were okay, if you slept well, were you hungry? And you didn’t question him on why he hadn’t left for work, why he had put on three loads of washing in two days, cycling through the same four shirts so he didn’t have to leave your place.
Leave you.
And now you were in a bath as Steve slid a pizza in the oven, the light in your apartment low, the first signs of winter creeping into Hawkins. Your windows were framed with a frost lace, the heating humming to life, the old radiators creaking. You’d forgone lights in the bathroom, choosing to light some candles instead, lavender scented steam burying the scent of pepper jack cheese and pepperoni.
You were submerged in bubbles when Steve padded into the room, his socked feet almost silent on the tiles. You blinked as he knelt down by the edge of the bath, his hand dipping into the almost too hot water. His palm found your knee, the start of your thigh. His thumb smoothed over the freshly shaven skin there, silky smooth for the sake of making yourself feel a little nicer, a little less like the bedsheet gremlin you’d become that week.
“Dinner’s on,” Steve murmured softly. “I just threw in a pizza, hope that’s okay.”
You sat up a little, water and bubbles sloshing at the side of the tub as you nodded. It was overwhelming, the adoration, the love, you felt for the man before you. He’d done nothing but care for you all week, giving you exactly what you had needed, even when you’d been unsure of it yourself.
“Thanks, handsome,” you replied just as softly. You leant in, bracing your damp cheek against his shoulder, smiling as his hand curled around your leg a little tighter, bubbles gathering around his bicep, the sleeve of his t-shirt getting a little wet. “You’re too good to me.”
“Not possible,” Steve mumbled, kissing at your messy hair, at the sweat and steam that had flattened the baby hairs on your temple. “Would give you the world if I could.”
Your stomach twirled at his words, your cheeks warming and you didn’t dare lift your head to look at him, for fear that you would embarrass yourself entirely. Instead you said: “I’ll settle for pizza.”
Steve hummed, gifting you with another kiss, this one to your cheek. And when you sat up, he smoothed his hand over your bare back, hot to the touch and crackling with leftover bubbles. He watched them pop and slip down your spine, the water lapping just below the curve of your breast. It was silent apart from the lazy drip of the tap, the flicker and crack of the candles that were close to burning out.
And then Steve spoke.
“Hey, babe.”
You turned, elbows on the edge of the tub, waiting. You rested your chin atop them, your mouth drawn down into an anxious line because you knew what was coming. That’s why Steve leant in before he continued, his forehead bumping yours, his eyes cast down, watching the tiles.
“Have you— uh, have you thought about…” you heard rather than saw him swallow, the sound thick and rough. You pressed your lips to your forearm, closing your eyes. “About what you wanna do?
You took a breath in and held it, eyes still shut, water lapping at your skin. You felt Steve’s gaze on you, his nose brushing yours and you breathed out, deflating.
It felt like giving in, it felt like relief.
“I wanna keep it.”
It was a whisper. The softest, quietest, biggest secret finally leaving your chest. It made the space there feel bigger, cavernous, a yawning space that left much more room for fear, for the unknown. You thought back to what Steve had said a week before, as he sat across from you in the dark of his bedroom, how he told you that the idea of a baby - your baby - wasn’t that stupid.
Not at all.
Steve didn’t move.
You sucked in a breath, moving back so suddenly the water splashed at the tubs lip, lines of it making tracks over the side, pooling at Steve’s feet.
“I know, I know,” you were talking too fast, your hands hot and wet and wrapping around Steve’s wrists as if he’d tried to run from you. He wasn’t going anywhere, you were just too scared to realise the wide eyed stare he was giving you was filled with everything but fear. “I know it’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb but I’ve just been thinking - god, I’ve been doing so much thinking - and, and if things were normal, right? If there wasn’t so much fucking monster shit going on and we didn’t have to worry about a military lockdown, I would wanna do this, y’know?”
You were teary eyed, bottom lip wobbling as you spoke, baby hairs plastered to your temples and cheeks. Your thumb stroked over Steve’s wrist bone. “I’d wanna have a baby with you. I would— I’d wanna have a family with you.” You smiled and it was watery, nervous and scared. “I know we’re young but—”
Steve let out the breath he’d been holding like a gasp, a small sob. His was grinning, he was shaking his head and his hands were fumbling for your own. He clasped them in his, pulling you close until his forehead touched your own and his hand cupped the back of your neck.
You felt insane.
“Not any younger than my mom was when she had me,” he said. You could taste his smile, could feel the joy in the crinkle in his nose, the way it bumped your own. “I know, it’s— it’s crazy. But we can do this, yeah? It’ll all work out, I promise, baby. M’gonna do this with you, we’re gonna be okay.”
Tears were tracking down your face now, happy ones, for the first time in a week. They rolled over the apples of your cheeks, seeped past the seam of your lips as you sniffed and laughed something watery, something utterly delirious.
“Yeah?” You asked, as if Steve had all the answers. As if Steve could promise you the world he wanted to give you badly. “We’re overdue some good luck, I think.
Steve laughed, it bubbled in his throat, a joyous sound. His eyes were shining, candlelight reflected in the honey brown of them, his hair falling past his lashes and he was looking at you with so much devotion it ached.
“Yeah, I think we are,” he agreed, his hand carding into the hair at the nape of your neck. His thumb brushed over the spot behind your ear. He looked at you like you were holy. “We’re really gonna do this.”
It didn’t sound like a question but you nodded anyway, smiling, cheeks sore, your mind racing. “They’re gonna yell at us,” you whispered and god, you didn’t even mean your parents, nor Steve’s.
Your dad was never in the picture and you couldn’t really remember the last time you saw your mom. Maybe five Christmas’ ago, where she sat across from you at the dinner table, her plate full and her wine glass empty, her stare unwavering as she called you every name but your own. And Steve’s?
Well. Everyone knew about Steve’s parents.
“They’ll get over it,” Steve murmured. He didn’t deny the yelling part though. He kissed your nose, your cheek, your jaw. “We’ve handled worse, baby. It’s gonna be okay.”
“Yeah?” You couldn’t help but ask again, believing everything Steve said at this point.
He nodded, grinning. His cheeks were pink, his eyes soft. “Yeah, I’m gonna take such good care of you, honey, I swear. It’ll work out, it just— it has to.”
Another kiss, this one initiated by you, a slow, sweet thing to Steve’s lips. He barely pulled away from you before he spoke, his voice a whisper, a giddy, excited thing that felt almost unbelievable to hear. His mouth moved against yours, lips brushing, a breath shared.
It felt monumental. It felt entirely ridiculous. It felt like the most perfectly normal thing that had happened in recent months.
“We’re gonna have a baby.”
——————
Steve lay on his front in bed that evening, both of you full of pizza, your skin soft and still smelling like lavender. He had you laying against every pillow he could gather from your apartment, his hand running across your bare tummy, your sweater rucked up your ribs.
There wasn’t much there, there wasn’t anything at all, actually. Your tummy was the same rounded softness it had always been, with no proof of a baby to yet be seen. But Steve’s touch was a balm, a warm caress that soothed any trepidation you’d once had about placing your own hands there. Like touching that part of your body would hold too much weight before any kind of decision had been made.
Everything felt lighter now. The air in the apartment, the set of your jaw, the hunch in Steve’s shoulders. The way he touched you, the way you spoke. The way Steve looked at you with absolute awe and adoration, a new kind of fierce protectiveness in the way he didn’t leave your side.
So you let him drag his palm over your tummy, his thumb stroking circles below your belly button, his lips pressing kiss after kiss around the soft skin there. It made the last week feel worth it, the anxiety and turmoil lifted. It made you forget about the dangers, about everything that could go wrong, about what lived below your feet.
For just that night, it was the two of you. Your apartment was warm and safe, the candles still lit and flickering against the bedroom walls, your bare feet tucked under Steve’s thighs, stealing his warmth.
There wasn’t a military presence, there weren't gates around the town.
Monsters weren’t real.
Everything was okay. Everything was going to be fine.
Steve x fem!reader | angst, eventual smut, pregnancy fic, mentions of abortion | 2.3k | miniseries
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“Are you stupid?” Hopper hissed, his fist red and angry, dust and cracked drywall at his feet. He was looking at Steve with such anger, such despair, that Steve suddenly felt at home in his kitchen. “Are you truly that stupid?”
“Hop,” Joyce’s tone was a warning, her hand holding Steve’s shoulder as he barrelled into the centre of the kitchen, staring at the older man with as much disbelief as the chief held for him.
“You think we planned this?” Steve scoffed, a humourless laugh bubbling from his throat because nothing about this as fucking funny. “You think we wanted this to happen?”
Hopper was leaning his hands onto the table, his head bent, his entire body unmoving. “You should’ve been careful. Jesus Christ, you should’ve been fucking careful! This is freshman year shit, Harrington! You get a goddamn rubber and a banana and—”
Jonathan and Robin were standing against the wall, lips parted and unmoving as they watched the scene unfold.
“Fuck off, Hop,” Steve growled, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed. He felt wild, he felt unhinged, he felt all the emotions he tried to keep in so that he didn’t scare you. “You don’t think accidents happen? What the fuck were we supposed to do? Double bag it and pray?”
“Dude,” Jonathan groaned, dragging his hands across his face and into his hair as Robin sank down onto the kitchen chair again, her face frozen with shock.
“You could’ve sat on your fucking hands,” Hop seethed, “you could’ve watched a damn movie or fuck, I don’t know, considered the fact that there’s a fucking thing - a goddamn creature - out there that’s planning to end the fucking world!”
Hopper's anger only fuelled Steve’s frustration, his fears, his upset. Fire on fire, the heat in the kitchen crawling upwards, an explosion simmering in wait. Steve tugged at the ends of his hair, resorted back to his usual defence tactics and spat his response with sarcasm and a sneer.
“Gee Hop! I didn’t realise you were practicing abstinence in these trying times!” Steve moved to the sink, shoving a glass under the faucet with a shaking hand. “Don’t treat us like fucking kids. We’re not— we’re not stupid, alright? We didn’t mean— shit...”
If you had crumpled before, Steve folded like a stack of cards. His back hit the kitchen cabinet, his knees betraying him as he slid down the wood and onto the cold tiles.
He felt hands on his, smaller, softer, familiar. Robin knelt before him, eyes still wide and panicked, and he knew her head would be rushing with it all, with thoughts and problems and answers and solutions. He waited to hear her rambles, her panicked voice rushing to fix things but instead:
“Is she okay?”
Steve let out a breath, wincing at the sharp pain it caused in his chest and he nodded. Then he shrugged. “She’s sleeping,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know what to do.”
Hopper spoke before Joyce could. His voice louder, his tone harsher. It made Steve flinch, it made him think of his dad.
“Well lemme help you out, kid.” Hopper moved to stand where Steve could see him, a looming figure from Steve’s vantage point on the floor. “It’s pretty easy, ‘cause there’s only one thing to do. I know it’s not nice to talk about, but we gotta be realistic—”
“Jim…” Joyce tried to interject, her voice cracking.
“We’ve not decided anything,” Steve answered. He sounded like he was underwater, his ears ringing. “There’s more than one option, Hop, and we haven’t spoken about any of them yet.”
The older man laughed, mirthless, frustrated. Steve stood and Robin did too, both of them blinking in surprise when Jonathan moved to stand beside them. Steve met his eyes and the other boy nodded.
“Can we all cut the bullshit?” Hopper asked, thick brows furrowed, his arms spread wide as he addressed the room. “We’re all out there every night - no, sorry, on the nights we can get around the military surveillance - trying to find a goddamn fucking half human who wants to do shit knows what. What do you mean there’s more than one option?”
“We haven’t spoken about anything, Hop, alright!” Steve snapped, tried not to yell because he didn’t want to wake you, not yet, not for you to be involved in all of this. “I’m gonna do whatever she wants me to do! It’s not my fucking decision to make and it sure as fuck isn’t yours.”
“I’m trying to keep everyone alive, Steve! Your girl included!” Hopper did yell, his voice hitching as his eyes widened and when Joyce moved to place a calming hand on his arm, he simply moved away. “I’ve got a bunch of fucking kids running around in tunnels and vans and Jesus Christ— I’m trying, I’m trying to make sure my other daughter doesn’t d—”
He cut himself off, the silence in the kitchen abrupt and painful. No one spoke for a few seconds, no one moved and Steve shook his head, the edges of it starting to throb and sting. He was so tired.
“You forget we’ve lost people too, y’know.” Steve settled his gaze on Jim, his shoulders losing their sharp set. “We thought we’d lost you, for fuck sake. We had a funeral! And— a-and I, Jesus, I buried Eddie Munson’s fucking body and had to d-drag Dustin away from it before he ended up the same way. We had to tell his uncle we didn’t know what happened. I had to— I had to drive Lucas to the hospital with Max in the back of my car and… and there was so much fucking blood, Hopper. We thought we’d lost her too.”
His voice split in half then, remembering, reliving. It cracked down the middle and his chest heaved. Steve couldn’t help the tears that spilled and he swore at them, swiping angrily at his face whilst Robin turned to the wall, her own shoulders shaking. He moved to the other side of the island from Hopper, setting his hands on it and making sure the other man felt every word he was about to say.
“Did you ever think that maybe, just for a change, we wanna try fucking living?”
Steve could feel his heartbeat in his ears, a white hot roar in his chest that made the back of his neck prickle. There were too many emotions to process, too many to keep up with. He didn’t know where to begin and everything in him was telling him to go back to you. He dropped his gaze, thankful that no one spoke. He felt everyone’s eyes on him as he moved around his kitchen, filling up an old Hawkins High water bottle from the tap as he grabbed a packet of chips and a couple of cold pizza rolls the kids had managed to miss.
Tucking the bottle under his arm, he balanced the rest on a plate as he dug out his keys from his pocket with his free hand. “Anyone who’s crashing, there’s spare pillows and shit in the cupboard in the hall. If you’re not,” he dropped the keys with a harsh clatter on the kitchen counter. Steve flicked his gaze briefly towards the old Chief, before turning his back. “Mail the keys after you lock up.”
His legs felt heavy as he climbed the stairs, his feet concrete. But he tried his best not to let his bedroom door make too much noise as he opened it. The space was still dark, a line of orange-yellow light cracking through the shadows from the hallway. You were still curled on your side, your hands fisting the sheets below you but your tired eyes were open, watching as Steve peered into the room.
Guilt bloomed in his chest but he smiled through it, feeling softer as he moved towards you. The door clicked shut, throwing you both back into the inky night, the glow from the pool lights below the window making water that wasn’t there ripple across Steve’s walls and ceilings.
“Hey,” he murmured, placing the snacks he’d brought you on the nightstand. Steve crawled back into bed, trying his best to be gentle as he lay down beside you. He scanned your face, your red rimmed eyes, your messy hair. “How’re you feelin’?”
You shifted closer, your hands releasing his duvet in order to find his own, clutching at him like a lifeline. You sighed, eyes closing, lashes brushing your cheeks and your nose bumped his. You couldn’t get close enough, there wasn’t enough contact, enough exposed skin, enough affection to rid you of the anxiety that had made its home in the middle of your chest.
“I don’t know,” you whispered and your voice was broken, your throat raw. “Are you okay?”
Like Steve could sense what you wanted - no, needed - he drew his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. He coaxed one of your legs over his, nudging at your throat with his nose until you shifted, lifting your chin to let him in, each of your faces buried in the other's neck.
“I’m okay as long as you are,” he murmured against your skin. He snuck his hands under the hem of your shirt, your skin bed warmed and soft. He followed the curve of your spine, your hip, your waist. “You hungry? I got some snacks.”
You made no move to surface from his embrace, merely nudging closer into his arms. Steve felt your lashes brush his neck; long, slow blinks that made him think you weren’t quite fully awake yet.
“Awful brave of you,” you mumbled. Small hands found their way into the mess of hair at the nape of his neck, twisting and pulling gently. Steve shivered, held you closer still. “You went into the lion's den for those?”
“You heard, huh?”
“Hard not to,” you whispered. “They sounded mad.”
Steve shook his head, pulling back so he could look at you. The shadows seemed to swallow you, your eyes the only bright thing left in the room but Steve feared that was because of the leftover tears in them. “Just Hop, babe. Y’know how he gets.” He swallowed thickly, watching your eyes flutter as he smoothed a hand over your cheek, his thumb catching your lip. “Kept askin’ what we were gonna do.”
Your breath left you with a shake, a quiver. Sitting up, you scrubbed at your face, trying to get rid of the sleep that still clung to it. Steve followed, crossed legged in front of you and he handed you a bag of chips.
Barbecue. Your favourite. Your stomach lurched.
“What did you tell him?” You asked it with genuine curiosity because Steve’s side of the conversation had been much quieter in volume than the Chief’s. Maybe you’d feel better if Steve told you that he had a plan, maybe the gnawing ache in your stomach would fuck off if somebody - anybody - just told you what to do. “What did you say?”
“That we were gonna do whatever you wanted to do.” Steve said it with absolute certainty. Like it was a no brainer. He watched your eyes well up with fresh tears, saw the way your bottom lip jutted and wobbled. He didn’t want to ask, not yet, not now but the panic that had bloomed in his chest was coming alive again, it was too big to contain, it was— “do you… uh, do you know what you want to do?”
You stifled a sob as you looked at him, your hands coming up to lay on your stomach but you thought better of it before they could land. You grabbed the chips instead, the crinkling packet hiding the sounds of your choked breaths. “I’m, um— fuck. I’m not sure yet.” You found Steve’s gaze, your own eyes wild and unsure. “That’s so stupid, right?” Your voice didn’t just crack, it splintered, a raw sounding thing that made Steve’s heart shatter with it.
“Honey—” his hands found yours, trapping them between his palms and he brought them to his lips, his mouth running over your fingertips in a touch that wasn’t a kiss but just as sweet.
“That’s so fucking stupid, isn’t it?” You hiccuped each word, stuttering and sobbing as you shook your head. “There should be only one option, right? Like— like it’s not safe to consider anything else— to even think about a reality where we could have— fuck, have a—”
You bit down on your lip, too hard, like you could stop the word from leaving your mouth. Like you could stop it from happening. As if not saying it, would make it any less true.
“A baby?” Steve whispered.
You nodded, tears tracking down your cheeks. You wondered if this would’ve been different. If it would’ve been different if you’d found out this news in your own pink tiled bathroom. If you had bought a test and waited for Steve to return home from work to show him in quiet shock.
Would it have been different if your doctors office wasn’t in a military base, would it have been different if there weren’t men on the street with trucks and guns? Would it have been different if there weren't monsters under your feet, if there wasn’t danger in every shadow?
Because how did you protect someone you loved from people who did bad things, when those people could rip through your bedroom wall?
Steve was crying too and you thought that that maybe hurt the most. He was always so strong, so stoic in the face of the harsh reality they lived in. But maybe this was simply too much.
But then—
“No,” he murmured. Soft, quiet, reverent. “Uh, I don’t think it’s stupid at all. Not if you think it isn’t.”
You blinked at him in surprise, lips parting, breath stuck in your chest.
Steve x fem!reader | angst, eventual smut, pregnancy fic, descriptions of vomiting | 2.7k | miniseries
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The makeshift doctors clinic still has the same sterile white walls as your old office. Despite it being in a bunker, it smells the same. Like antiseptic and a mustiness that could only come with any medical setting. There was a photo on the panelling, a nondescript painting of a meadow with wildflowers growing amongst the trees.
It blurred and twisted.
“Miss?”
The whole room was spinning, actually, your feet suddenly feeling far too high from the linoleum floor, despite only sitting on the edge of the bed. The plastic covering crinkled under your weight and your fingers curled into the creases of it. God, you were too warm. The collar of your sweater was too tight, too scratchy.
Why couldn’t you breathe?
“Miss? Did you hear me?”
The hum of the generator that had become a high hum suddenly snapped back into focus, a dull droning sound in the background of the office. The doctor stood before you in a white coat, a woman with greying brown hair and glasses, eyeing you with concern. You sucked in a breath and ignored how it made your chest burn, how the scent of bleach stung your eyes.
Or maybe you were just crying.
“Is there someone you can call? Someone who can collect you?”
You sniffed, shaking your head and coming to life. You slid from the day bed and blinked, the overhead fluorescents making the entire scene seem glaringly real. Oh my god, this was real. You felt clumsy on your feet, the soles of your boots sinking into the imaginary sand beneath you and when you bent to grab your bag, your head rushed at the movement. Everything felt upside down, violently so.
You were sure you were going to be sick.
“What?” Your voice didn’t sound like your own. Maybe this wasn’t your body. It didn’t feel like it.
“I said, do you have someone you can call—?”
“No.” You shook your head, startled. Dazed. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
You weren’t fine.
You don’t remember walking out of the medical centre. You barely registered the electric buzz and the shriek of the electric gate as six guards with guns holstered at their hips let you out of the military zone. You stood at the side of the road, the November air nipping at your exposed skin, stinging your cheeks and ears. In a daze, you remembered you hadn’t driven there, instead choosing to ask your co-worker to drop you off after your shift. It felt clumsy to walk still, a numbness settling into your bones that felt harsher than the winter chill.
You walked. One foot in front of the other, you told yourself, that’s all you had to do right now. So you walked with your arms folded over your chest, your cold fingers tucked into your jacket sleeves in order to salvage what little heat you could. Your stomach was still rolling, your heart thudthudthudding in your chest.
You kept walking.
The Wheeler’s station wagon was parked outside or Steve’s house, along with Joyce’s car. Stepping over Dustin and Will’s bikes that were left haphazardly on the lawn, you hesitated at the front door. You never knocked, not when Steve’s parents were out of town.
But now, you weren’t sure what to do. You still felt like you were going to throw up and the red door blurred in front of you, your breath quickening. You could hear familiar voices inside, conversations and debates and the microwave beeping in the kitchen, the smell of pizza rolls reminding you of the lurching wave in your stomach.
You opened the door, immediately assaulted with the kind of chaos you’d grown accustomed to in the past year. Too much chatter, voices overlapping and a living room table full of empty soda cans and hand drawn maps and blueprints. El was on the couch with Mike and Lucas, a packet of hot Cheetos levitating above Dustin’s head across the room, just out of his reach.
Nancy was sitting on the stairs, barely looking up from the printed papers of god knows what as she greeted you with a distracted hello. Hopper was at the table in the kitchen, sitting with Jonathan as they spoke about the last crawl and the lack of findings. Robin was pulling popcorn out of the microwave, Joyce was pouring a cup of coffee and Steve—
Steve wasn’t there.
“Hi, sweetie,” Joyce smiled warmly at you as you stepped into the kitchen, scanning the space once more for the boy, as if you’d missed him, as if he was hiding in the fridge. “Coffee? I’ve just made a new po— are you okay?”
Joyce was in front of you, frowning with motherly concern and she placed the back of her hand on your forehead. You couldn’t help but flinch.
“Are you sick? You look like—”
Robin was staring. Hopper had looked up, his brow creased like Joyce’s.
Your tongue felt too big in your mouth and swallowing was a behemoth task. Your throat was thick, your mouth sticky, but you managed, “where’s Steve?”
Everyone in the room exchanged looks, not that you noticed. The patterned tiles behind the Harrington’s cooker was blurring, the colours swimming into the walls, leaning onto the counters. Your chest was heaving, your throat too tight, too thick. You couldn’t breathe.
“He’s, uh, he’s upstairs,” Robin answered softly, moving from where she had been leaning against the counter, as if to approach you. “Do you want me to go get him?”
You shook your head, the movement jerky and out of sorts. You should’ve replied. You should’ve said thank you. You should’ve tried to pretend you were okay but instead you just walked out of the room and stepped over Nancy on the stairs, not aware of the whispers, the looks, the worry.
Steve’s bedroom door was ajar, as was the one to his small en-suite. The sink was running, the sound of your boyfriend muttering to himself escaping through the crack. His room looked different to how it did when you first met him, the space lacking its personal belongings, his favourite pillow. Most of it was in your apartment, small trinkets, his radio and favourite cassettes, most of his clothes, a few framed photos. It still smelled like him though, like his cologne and fabric softener, the deodorant he always used.
It made the tears that had lingered in the corners of your eyes finally spill over; hot and fat and wet over your cheeks, salt leaking into the seam of your wobbling lip. You sucked in a breath that was shuddering and Steve stepped out, pulling at the neck of his t-shirt.
“Oh, hey babe, I didn’t hear you come in.” He wasn’t looking at you yet, too busy smoothing down the front of his shirt, a frown pulling at his brows. “Henderson spilled a damn soda on me, had to come change. How’d med check g— babe?”
Oh god, you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him. How were you supposed to tell him?
Steve was in front of you, hands coming to cradle your elbows and he looked so worried, he looked overwhelmed with concern. He bent down just a little, so he could meet your gaze with his own and he looked so frightened it made your breath hiccup, the sound getting stuck in your throat and you were sobbing now, openly, heartwrenchingly.
“Baby, what’s wrong.” It was barely a question. Steve demanded it in the softest way, in the most gentle way. Quiet in his worry, frenzied in the way he looked at you. His eyes spent too long searching every inch of you, as if he could sense the hurt, as if he could diagnose the injury. “Baby, you’re scaring me. You hurt? Are you sick? Wha—”
You shook your head, feeling like it was a lie. You felt sick. But you weren’t ill. Not really.
Steve was blurry now, a streak of colours in front of you, a mosaic of concern and you couldn’t stop the tears, not even when the boy’s big hands reached up to cradle your face, thumbs doing their best to wipe away the tracks on your hot cheeks. Strands of your hair stuck to them and your once cold hands were now throbbing from the heat inside, the tips of them stinging. You felt messy, everything felt messy.
You stepped back, hiccuping still, you hands pulling clumsily at your jacket, the zip catching as you whimpered and you wrestled off the offending material, hoping that without it, you could breathe a little easier.
You couldn’t.
Steve looked desperate, hands still outstretched for you. “You’re scaring me, sweetheart, please, c’mere. You gotta breathe, what’s going on?”
You bit down on your lip so hard you tasted blood, tart and metallic. You met Steve’s gaze and sucked in a breath, filling your lungs as if you’d just spent the last hour underwater.
You felt like you had.
Like you were in too deep.
Like you were drowning.
“I’m pregnant,” you whispered.
The room felt too big all of a sudden, but your admission filled the space. Big, booming words, painted in bright red across the walls, your whisper bouncing around the floor, hurtling against the furniture, wrecking everything in its path.
No one moved, but it felt like the world was tipping over.
“Oh,” Steve uttered, stepping back awkwardly until his back met his dressers. The trinkets atop it swayed and clattered, Steve’s hands catching the edge of the wood as he braced himself. “Fuck.” He swallowed roughly, his face stricken. “I thought— we— we were careful? We were being safe.”
Steve looked how you felt, like he’d joined you on the bottom of the ocean, sinking downdowndown until he was drowning right there beside you. The company did nothing to ease your heavy chest.
Your voice was hoarse when you responded, your breath catching in your throat between each word. “We were. It just… it doesn’t always—”
“Work,” Steve finished for you. He dragged a hand down his face and looked at you, his lips parted and his eyes wild. “Fuck, baby…”
You were sobbing again, openly, wildly. You crumpled entirely, dropping to your haunches before you sagged to the floor, your face in your hands, hot and wet. Steve caught you, moving to lean against the bottom of his bed and he gathered you into his arms, pulling at you until you were in his lap, a mess of his limbs and your own as he wrapped you up in himself.
He figured if he held you tight enough, maybe he could save you from falling apart. But as your shoulders shook and your breath came out in wrenching gasps, Steve wondered if he was too late.
Your tears soaked his fresh shirt, a wet patch he felt through to his chest and he held you tight, his nose pressed into your hair as he rocked the both of you in whatever way he could from the uncomfortable position you were in. He whispered to you the whole time; soft, timid affirmations that you barely heard, his own voice cracking between each word.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
“I’m here.”
“I love you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry, baby, it’ll be okay, I swear.”
Because being twenty something and almost-sharing a one bed apartment was one thing whilst young and pregnant. It was entirely another problem to attempt that whilst young, pregnant and living in a town where monsters were real.
—————
You only moved from Steve’s lap when your stomach finally gave in. The situation, your emotions, the tears you’d shed giving way to the churning that had been happening inside you since the doctor had returned from the lab with your stupid pot of pee and a stick in her hands.
You leapt from Steve’s lap, ignoring the way he called after you in worry, stumbling against the doorframe as you shoved your way inside of the bathroom. You didn’t even manage to close the door, your hands grasping the cold porcelain of the sink before you could reach the toilet bowl and you stomach emptied itself of what little breakfast it had had.
Shoulders heaving, you wretched and spat as tears rolled down your face all over again, your skin too hot, bile coating your tongue and you wanted to sleep, you wanted to close your eyes and forget.
Big hands found you, skimming over your back and gathering your hair, holding it for you as another pathetic heave shuddered through your body but you were empty. Done.
You shook as you accepted the towel and bottle Steve had grabbed from his bedside. His stare was on you the entire time you swished the lukewarm water around your mouth, spitting it out and down the sink as the tap washed everything away. Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, Steve bent down to your level, his hands on your knees.
His face was pale, his eyes wide. “Is that..? Was that like, was that because of,” his gaze dropped to your stomach, panicked, “or is it just, like, I—”
Morning sickness. Pregnancy symptoms. That was what he was trying to say. Your stomach threatened to curdle again but you shook your head.
“Uh, no. No, I just… I don’t know.” You sniffed, blinking against the too bright light. Everything felt jarring, off kilter. Not real. “I’m six weeks.”
“Oh.”
“So, I don’t even know… I don’t know if I’d be feeling… anything yet? Fuck, I don’t know.” You swiped at your face, meanly, uncaring, wishing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “I don’t know what to do, Steve.” Your voice was tiny, childlike in its softness and your face crumpled once again, cheeks hot with too emotion, throat raw with it all.
“Heyheyhey,” Steve soothed, pulling you into his chest. One hand clasped the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, the other holding your hip. You felt like he was holding you together. “We do whatever you wanna do, alright?” Steve swallowed tightly, his voice hoarse, scared, reverent, hopeful, terrified. “What do you wanna do? What can I do right now, huh? I wanna help, honey, let me help, yeah?”
So you let Steve guide you to his bed, the mattress much softer and bigger and comfier than the one you shared with him in your shitty apartment. You let him tuck you into his sheets, let him drag your shoes from your still cold feet and he let them tumble down somewhere near his old desk. He climbed in beside you at your quiet request, curling around your frame until his knees were tucked into the bend behind your own and he lay with you on the same pillow until the sun set and the light in the room turned from yellow to pink to lavender to blue.
He held you until your breathing evened out, until it stopped hitching and hiccuping and holding itself in your throat. He held you until you shoulders stopped shaking and your eyes closed and your lips parted softly with a sigh of release.
Steve moved to kiss you, to press his lips to where he could reach. Your head, your temple, your shoulder, your neck. He pushed kiss after kiss to those spots, his eyes glassy in the navy darkness, shining in what little light was left. It was only then did he venture downstairs into the kitchen. Nancy was gone and so were the kids, the house a lot quieter without the youngest of them there to bicker about the last pizza roll.
Hopper, Joyce and Robin sat at the kitchen table, a place he rarely saw anyone he loved sit at, but with his parents out of town, there was a lot more room for family. Jonathan was refilling the coffee jug when he slipped into the kitchen, his entire body tense and tight and ready for whatever it was that was about to happen—
“She’s pregnant, isn’t she,” Joyce spoke from her seat, hands clasped around a lukewarm mug and if Steve had ever felt naive enough to think that your bombshell news wasn’t as big a problem as he’d initially thought, Joyce’s facial expression made him think otherwise.
It wasn’t a question, it was a woman's intuition. Steve’s mouth went dry, his shoulders sagged.
summary: in which you and steve can't stand to be apart from each other for more than a few hours. (2.8k)
warnings: no real season 5 spoilers, no use of Y/N, lovely bf steve, robin being the unlucky third wheel
a/n: only steve could pry me from the clutches of rpf for a while. he is my man and will always be my man !!! i could also be persuaded to open requests for him if anyone sends a good one ;)
The WSQK building sticks out from the surrounding grass and woodland hills like a sore thumb.
It's an ugly thing, square hunks of grey brick with all sorts of antennae poking out from the top, one that you wouldn't be caught dead near if not for Steve working there. Now you tolerate it, because you kind of have to if you want to see him at all during the day.
Since the Morning Squawk airs at very specific time every single day, Robin has him on a tight schedule. What that means for you is that the sun has barely risen when Steve's alarm goes off.
He'll pull his face when where it's more often than not buried in the crook of your neck with a soft groan so as to not wake you, but the lack of warmth when he retreats always does despite his best efforts. Then you get ten minutes before the snooze button wears off, and then Steve really has to go.
The way you spend those ten minutes together varies. Most times, you'll just lay there still tangled up in each other, mustering the energy to greet the day ahead.
He's out of the house within the next twenty, though not nearly awake enough and pretty grumpy after having to leave you so goddamn early everyday, and off to pick up Robin, who is always frustratingly chipper for it being the asscrack of dawn.
His words, not yours.
You let your knuckles rap against the heavy metal door of the building, bouncing on the balls of your feet. It isn't uncommon for you not to spend any time with Steve until the both of you get home from work, but you've been feeling a little anxious today. Seeing him always puts you in a better mood.
"Hey!" Steve exclaims, lighting up brighter than a Christmas light display as soon as he pulls open the door. "What're you doing here?"
You hold up the brown bag containing your own lunch with a smile, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Figured you might want some company for lunch?"
"Yeah! Yeah, here, come on in!" He grabs your hand and pulls you inside with the utmost enthusiasm, letting the door slam shut behind you with a loud thud that rattles the walls.
What you aren't expecting is for him to nudge you up against the nearest wall and kiss you like he hasn't seen you in weeks.
His mouth moves against yours hungrily but still sweet in that way he does best, big hands cupping your face as he presses himself against you. Your fingers curl themselves into the front of his jacket, gripping the material dear life whilst you get the living daylights kissed out of you by your very enthusiastic boyfriend.
Steve pulls back after a while, giving you some time to gain your bearings and catch your breath again.
"Hey," He says softly, stroking a thumb under your ear.
You smile against him, reaching up to smooth back the few swoops of hair that have fallen over his forehead in the heat of the moment. "You greet everyone who comes here like that?"
"Only the really cute ones."
"Ones as in, there's more than just me?" You giggle, feigning shock. Steve drapes an arm over your shoulders, drawing you in close.
"What can I say? Can't keep a man like me tied down."
"Steve Harrington, you wound me!"
"Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean for you to find out this way."
The squishy yellow sofa in the common area isn't the most comfy, but it'll do for now as you plop down on it to eat. Time is of the essence here, because no matter how much you want to stay here with Steve and Robin, you're on a schedule here.
Steve takes perch on the armrest beside you, popping one knee up for him to rest his arm on.
"What'd you pack today?" He asks, leaning over so far his head blocks the entire opening of the bag. "Is that the last Bopper?! You said we had no more…"
You swat him on the back of the neck gently to get him to move, stretching your lunch further away from him with a snort. "Yeah, I only said that 'cause I knew you'd eat the last one if you knew! Boppers are a rare commodity around here these days, Steve, you can't just inhale the whole box like you used to!"
"I'm just saying it would've been nice to know, then I could just ask Murray to get another one—"
"Do not make that poor man smuggle more candy into a freaking military zone, Steven!"
"Okay! Alright, jeez. Can I have a bite, at least? You know they're my favorite—"
"Get your feet off the damn couch, Steve! How many times do I have to tell you?" Robin appears in a blur of movement, crossing the floor quickly like a woman on a mission. She doesn't smack his knee when she passes, but you know she would if she felt the urge. Then she spots you and stops right in her tracks, grinning widely. "There's my favorite person! Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. Did you know your boyfriend keeps moaning and groaning about you every five minutes?"
"Uh, no I don't!" Steve shoots back immediately, wrinkling his nose. He turns back to you with a roll of his eyes, giving you a can you even believe this look. "Don't listen to Robin, she's just bitter because Vickie can't hang out tonight."
"Everything okay with you two?" You ask, tilting your head.
"Yeah, yeah, they're fine. She's just ridiculously clingy and can't stand to be away from her for more than a day."
You laugh, amused. "Sounds like someone else I know."
Steve kicks you gently, handsome features morphing into a dramatically offended expression. "I am not ridiculously clingy. I'm a perfectly normal amount of clingy, thank you very much."
"You keep telling yourself that, buddy," Robin snorts from the soundbooth. "Feet, Steve, put 'em on the floor!"
Begrudgingly, he drops into the seat on your other side, muttering under his breath as he picks up your legs and swings them over his lap. Fingers tap along your shins rhythmically, only stopping when you pass Steve half your sandwich (and yes, the Bopper too), and even then, his free hand stays on your knee.
Your lunch break dwindles down faster than you'd like it too, and soon enough, you have to leave, much to Steve's chagrin. He watches with a frown as you gather your trash to throw it away.
"What's the sad face for, Harrington?" You chuckle, clocking the furrow in his brow when you turn around to come back. "Is the riveting world of being a radio station sound guy not thrilling enough for you anymore?"
"You need a longer lunch break."
"You think? Well, you tell my boss that and see how well it goes."
Steve mumbles something unintelligible, hooking his arms around your waist to pull you against him as soon as you're close enough, effectively trapping you in place. He smells like laundry detergent and cologne and the spearmint gum he keeps in his pocket. Nice, like he always does.
"I have to go, babe," You sigh, draping your arms around his neck loosely.
"You don't have to."
"Yeah, I kinda do. My lunch break is fifty-five minutes. It takes fifteen to get all the way out here, twenty to spend with you, and fifteen minutes to get back—and that's all assuming I don't get stopped by any MPs both ways. You know how they are."
"So what I'm hearing is you can stay for five more minutes and you'll get back just in the nick of time."
"Steve!" You exclaim, but even then there isn't any real force behind it. You can never really stay cross with him when he smiles at you the way he is now, all lazy and fond and like he never wants you to leave, ever.
His grin turns teasing as he gives the belt loops of your jeans a playful tug. "C'mon, you love me."
"Who said that?"
"Uh, you did. Multiple times. Just this morning," He says very matter-of-factly, squinting at you. "Which, might I add, was far too long ago."
"A few hours is nothing."
"To you. I feel like I'm dying over here! You wouldn't want me to die, would you?"
"And you say you're not clingy."
"I never said that. I said i was a normal amount of clingy, there's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Oh, shut up."
He takes the chance to press a quick kiss to your lips. Then another to your cheek, and your other cheek, before pulling back to look at you again. He does this a lot, sometimes. The looking at you like he can't quite believe you're real. It used to make you squirm under his gaze, but now you've come to love it.
The walkie talkie on the coffee table crackles to life, and Robin's voice pours from the small speaker.
"As happy as I am to see you both happy, and you know I am, I might need to burn my retinas and corneas if I have to watch you be any more disgustingly sweet with each other."
Steve grabs the walkie, pressing the button rather forcefully. "Then don't look, Rob!" He huffs. At the sound of your giggle, his annoyed facade drops, revealing a small smile. "C'mon, I'll walk you out."
Steve holds your hand all the way to the car, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you on the very short walk.
"Thanks for letting me hang out," You say gratefully, bumping your shoulder against his.
Steve's brows fly towards his hairline, the grin on his face growing. "Are you kidding? Babe, seeing you standing outside that door was the best surprise ever! Come by anytime, seriously. It's way better than me shoveling Pop Tarts and having to listen to Robin gush about her relationship all the time."
"You love her," You insist, giggling.
Steve rolls his eyes playfully, bobbing his head. "Yeah, but not as much as I love you."
"Ew."
"Ew? Ew?! C'mere, you little shit—" Steve drops your hand and lunges for you, managing to grab you around the thighs, and before you know it, you're upside down in the air, having been thrown over Steve's shoulder easily. He takes a few steps, leaning all the way forward to offset the new human sized weight behind him, cackling as you cling to his biceps for dear life. "Take it back. Take it back right now!"
"Okay! Oh my god, fine, I take it back!" You howl, squeezing your eyes shut. "Put me down, you maniac!"
He plants you back on your feet right next to your car with one last chuckle and a satisfied smile. Ever the gentleman, he opens your door for you, bowing you into the driver's seat overdramatically. "Hope you make it back on time."
"Guess I better speed the whole way there."
"Ha. Maybe don't do that." Steve braces his elbows on your open window, leaning into the car. "Be safe, okay?"
"Always am," You say softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "See you at home?"
"Best part of the day."
-------
The sun is just starting to set when you finally clock out, sky awash with another one of those watercolor sunsets that you love so much about small town Hawkins. Oranges and pinks and fading blues blend into each other in the most gorgeous picture as you lock up for the night, and you sigh.
Steve is leaning on the hood of your car when you turn around, arms crossed over his chest, one leg over the other.
You beam brightly at the sight of him, mood instantly lifted.
"Fancy seeing you here," He calls, pushing off the hood as you get closer. He's ditched the jacket he'd been in when you last saw him, shirtsleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair a little messier than usual—like he'd been running his hands through it.
You let yourself stop just within arms length from him, smile still present. "I thought we were gonna see each other at home."
"That was the plan, yeah. But then after you left I decided I didn't wanna wait that long." He shrugs, taking your bag from off your shoulder and hiking it over his own. You roll your eyes playfully at his reasoning but step more into his space nonetheless, fiddling with the buttons on the open collar of his shirt, and his smile only grows giddier. "Missed you."
"I saw you at lunchtime, dingus."
"Did you? I don't recall."
"I'm sure you don't."
"Wanna grab dinner? That diner we like?" He changes the subject, draping an arm over your shoulders to steer you towards his car a few spots away. "I don't think we have much of anything in the fridge, so unless you want a bowl full of ketchup…"
"Breakfast for dinner it is."
"I mean, I don't mind squirting ketchup right into your mouth, if you don't want a bowl."
"That's disgusting," You giggle. Then you realize where you're headed and stop in your tracks, tugging Steve to a stop too. "My car."
"Just leave it here. I'll drop you off tomorrow morning."
"You don't have the time for that, babe."
"I'll make time. I'll wake up earlier."
"You can barely wake up on time as it is," You tease.
"Well, someone kept me up last night," He replies pointedly, brows wiggling suggestively. You jab an elbow into his ribs and he grunts, doubling over in pain. "I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it! C'mon. I just wanna spend more time with ya, honey."
Well, when he says it like that—how can you refuse?
Still, you have one request.
"Can we stay here and watch the sun set first?"
Steve smiles like he knew you'd ask and pops the trunk of his car, rifling around in the mess of things before procuring a slightly ratty blanket, laying it out onto the hood of his car carefully. He holds out a hand to help you up before climbing up and settling in himself.
"You're the only one I'd let sit on her, y'know."
You preen, batting your eyelashes. "I feel so special."
"You should. Dustin tried once and I kicked his ass off."
"Yet you let him drill a hole into her."
"Okay, I didn't let him do that!" Steve protests, shoving a large palm towards your face that you manage to push away with a giggle. "And I patched up that hole, thanks. Now, can it and watch the sunset."
To anyone else, this might seem harsh, but Steve's wit and and sass have always been how he shows his love.
You slot into spot under his arm just right, tucking yourself against his side to watch the sky gradually fade.
"You don't think I'm clingy, do you?" You ask quietly, just as the sun sinks below the horizon. Steve shifts under you, rubbing a hand down your arm. "Seriously, babe. Am I?"
"If you think you're clingy, I'd hate to know what you think of me," He snorts. You only blink, waiting for his answer. Then he sighs, intertwining his fingers through yours. "Yes, I think you're clingy."
You can't help the surprised noise that escapes your mouth at his words, completely taken aback. "What?"
"Wait, no—hear me out, hear me out. Being clingy, it's not a bad thing!" He exclaims, though that doesn't reassure you at all. "I just mean, with all the shit we've been through, how many times we've almost fucking died these past few years, we have the right to wanna be with each other all the time. Both of us. All of us."
Oh.
This makes much more sense. Suddenly all your fears that you're being irrational about wanting to be near him all the time seem much, much smaller, and it makes you feel a hell of a lot better.
"Hey, I love you," He says firmly, giving your hand a squeeze. "If you wanna come see me at work, don't even hesitate. If you want me to come see you at work, just gimme a call on the ol' walkie and I'll be there as fast as I can without breaking any laws. Hell, if you want to crawl into my damn ribcage and make a home there, I'd gladly crack open my chest."
You wrinkle your nose, giggling. "Yuck, Steve, that's disgusting."
"I'm just sayin', sweetheart." He presses a kiss to the side of your head, letting his lips linger for his next words. "Never think I don't wanna see you. Because if I had my way, we'd be joined at the hip twenty-four seven."
"That doesn't seem so bad."
Steve smiles. Soft, gentle, fonder than ever. "Doesn't seem so bad at all."
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A/N: Heyyyy, finally got that freaked out Joaquin smut for yall, but who would I be if I didn't fill it with plot?!?! I present to you, delulu jealous Joaquin Torres, enemies to lovers(ish), with some freaky deaky smut and my amazing comedic timing (pls laugh or ill cry). Also this is hella fanon but does contain a few minor thunderbolts/cabnw spoilers. And I did in fact make it so the world didn't forget my bby Peter Parker BECAUSE HE DESERVED BETTER GOD DAMNIT! Also thx to the super hot and secksi chicken @love-chx for beta-ing half of this, mwah <3
Summary: It was as if every single thing you did irritated Joaquin Torres, you didn't even have to say anything to him, your presence alone was enough to tick him off. Don't get him started on your relationship with Peter Parker either.
Warnings: spelling and grammar errors, cursing, 2nd person POV, Joaquin's a total dick, Joaquin also has a big dick, mentions of Sam and Buckys divorce </3, the reader is a total flirt, mentions of Tony Stark </3, Smut: hair pulling, fish hooking, finger sucking, spitting, spitting in someones mouth, oral (fem receiving), munch!joaquin, minor male masterbation, ass eating if you squint, fingering, kissing, unprotected p in v, creampies, minor breeding kink (joaquin torres YOU ABSOLUTE FREAK!), panty/pussy sniffing, missionary, doggy style, praise, dirty talk, overstimulation, girl i think thats it idk man this was triffling
Word count: 12.7k
Joaquin Torres x Fem!Witch!Reader
Bark bark bark omg ok anyways heres the fic:
Joaquin Torres has always considered himself a pretty good person, his ultimate goal in life has always been to help people and to be a hero. He knows how to use his intelligence and skill set for good, he’s done more than enough to prove himself as the new ‘Falcon’ and from the feedback he’s received, he’d done a damn good job at being a hero, and most importantly, being an Avenger.
Typically, he doesn’t get irritated or angry easily, he’s got a positive mindset and does his best to not let things or people bother him. For a long time he thought it was just genuinely difficult for someone to get under his skin or agitate him, even in the line of combat.
That was until he met you.
Somehow, every single miniscule thing you did pissed him off.
It didn’t matter if it was as simple as forgetting to fully shut the office door, he’d get mad over it. If you’d interrupt him in the slightest, even if it wasn’t purposeful, it would tick him off. Anytime you wore heels, the constant clicking of them against the laminated floors had him taking deep breaths, fingers pinching his nose bridge in annoyance.
But nothing compared to the pure irritation that he’d feel whenever he overheard your high-pitched almost wheezy laughter whenever you were with Peter Parker. Now, Joaquin didn’t have anything against Peter per-say, but the fact that you two got along so well was what bothered him the most.
Sure Sam had told him that you’d grown up together, it made sense that you and Peter were close, but that didn’t stop him from being pissed off when he’d see you and Peter sitting close together on a sofa, or you leaning into Peter’s space, or wearing his hoodies, or laughing at his jokes.
It was normal to find your co-workers obnoxious, even if you weren’t exactly in the most normal profession. Being considered a superhero was a dream that most kids had, it was rare that anyone would be able to follow through.
Maybe that also irritated Joaquin when it came to you, it was as if everything had been handed to you, you hadn’t needed to work hard, you were a witch or a sorcerer or whatever Sam described it as! You’d been born with magical powers straight out of a fantasy novel! You didn’t need to work hard or constantly train or hone in on specific skill sets that would’ve made you better fit to be a hero.
At least that’s what he thought. Then again, Joaquin Torres hardly knew you, all he knew was that every single thing about you bothered him.
Not to mention the grimace that would overtake his features anytime you’d walk past him and the smell of your citrus perfume and shampoo would waft in his direction. You smelled like sweet oranges, sunshine, and the summer.
It made him want to hate the summer.
He didn’t even fully understand what it was about you that he didn’t like. From the outside looking in, you were relatively kind, sure you had a lot of jagged and rough edges but according to Sam you’ve ‘had a hard past few years’. Anytime the both of you had to go on a mission together, you knew exactly what needed to be done and how it needed to be done.
You weren’t exactly a know it all, or a smartass. You were just intelligent, that much was evident, especially after he found out that the entire reason Peter Parker had even had the chance to work with Tony Stark (outside of the whole recruiting two fifteen year olds to fight with the avengers against the avengers thing), was because you were persistent enough to hack into Stark enterprises security system and override parts of the very complex artificial intelligence that Stark had spent years engineering.
At the age of fifteen.
Maybe that also ticked him off, that you were so smart without having to try.
He was currently seated in his shared office at the Air Force base, one leg rapidly bouncing up and down as he clenched his jaw and stared at the two monitors in front of him. He wasn’t even focused on any of the code, surveillance footage, or data on screen, instead he was busy trying not to glance over his shoulder at you and Peter Parker sitting on the large navy blue sectional.
It wasn’t as if you were all over him, the two of you weren’t even seated directly next to one another, you were on the chase-end of the sofa, feet propped up in front of you as you worked on revisions to a few previous mission reports, adding in newly discovered information pertaining to a few arms deals, extraterrestrial activity, and foreign government involvement.
Meanwhile Peter was focused on repairing his web shooters. He was seated in the middle of the sofa, practically on the edge of one of the cushions while he leaned towards the coffee table where his gadgets sat.
Joaquin didn’t get it, he really truly didn’t get how your presence could bother him so much.
It didn’t help that he could smell you from where he sat. Your perfume had a way of lingering around, the aroma made him light headed and he hated it.
The worst part is that he liked Peter, he found him to be funny and admirable, given everything he’d gone through with losing his Aunt May, and then Stephen Strange nearly ripping a hole into the universe just to prove some point. It was nice to see people that still genuinely cared about the wellbeing of others.
Joaquin just couldn’t stand the sight of you and Peter together. So what if you’d known each other since high school, you were five years older than him now due to the Blip, and somehow, you two were still as close as ever.
He’d been so focused on not looking at you, that he hadn’t heard you say his name, nor had he registered your loud sigh as you got off the couch and approached him. Now you stood right beside him, looking at him while tapping your hand on his desk several times.
“Earth to Torres? I need the satellite scans from three days ago. Sam wants me to finalize the report to send over to the public relations department." You were very clearly annoyed by him, blinking slowly while both of your brows were raised, waiting for his response.
He slowly looked up at you, nodding his head while keeping his jaw clenched.
“Did you check the email I sent?” his condescending tone made you scoff, so instead of arguing with him, you simply shoved him out of the way, now leaning over his desk, his mouse in hand while your eyes trailed along his screens. Opening up the secure records, easily bypassing the password encryption to pull the files you needed.
Then you reached into your back pocket, grabbing a flash drive before connecting it to his computer, downloading each file that you needed while he sat in shock a few feet away.
But the longer you stood there, the more his eyes started to wander. Your back was slightly arched as you focused on the data downloads, your legs were a bit spread, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t immediately notice the way the denim levis hugged your ass perfectly. When his eyes trailed higher he realized your usual braided hair was straightened today, flowing along your back, cascading along your shoulders.
And God did you smell good.
Your shirt was fitted, the cotton of the tanktop hugging all of your soft curves, and maybe that made it worse for him. You weren’t exactly skinny, and he knew for a fact, he didn’t want you to be.
Sam was right, he needed to get laid.
Then you glanced over at him “what’s your password” he blinked a few times, finally processing what you were talking about, eyes glancing back at the monitors, now seeing his displays completely disorganized as you had several different sized windows up, showing different footage, paused feeds, coded entries, and encryptions. You pointed a singular manicured finger at the smaller black window, waiting on him to provide the necessary password.
“Move outta the way and I’ll type it in princess” you rolled your eyes at the nickname.
“You’re such a child Torres, just tell me the damn password, what you afraid I’m gonna look through your shit? As if we don’t have access to the same things?” he scoffed at that, running a hand along the lower half of his face as he let out a cynical laugh.
“Can’t you just listen and get the hell out of my way?” you shushed him, now typing a random assumption into the password box, waiting on it to load through as the cogwheel showed on screen. Finally after a few tense minutes, it worked and you were into his system fully.
“Seriously? That’s your password? Couldn’t think of anything more creative than Dwayne Wade? I know you’re a Heat fan but damn”
It took everything in him not to stand up, grab you by the hips, and move you out of his way. His leg was bobbing up and down again and now he was leaning to the right, elbow against the armrest of his chair while his hand covered the top half of his face.
“So uh, is now a bad time to ask if either of you are headed to the gala sponsored by Valentina Allegra De Fontaine this week?” you glanced back at Peter, who looked at both of you with his brows furrowed, eyes wide, and concern evident on his features.
He was sitting up a bit straighter now, as if he was anticipating a larger argument between the two. He wasn’t the best mediator, but he knew when to drag you away, considering you never backed down.
“Yeah, Sam sent us the invite last night. Said it’s mandatory, something about intel and his faux-divorce with Bucky.” you spoke as you glanced back at Joaquin's monitors, now finalizing a few downloads and taking the time to fix two of his encryptions, the codes having very clear errors that you couldn’t resist adjusting.
Then you stood up, taking a second to adjust your jeans, pulling them up slightly, the motion catching Joaquin’s eyes-or rather the sight of your ass slightly jiggling in your jeans caught his attention. Then you were walking away from his desk with the flashdrive in hand.
You initially were going to sit back down and get back to work, it wasn’t exactly easy being an Avenger or whatever the hell Sam called you all, and a lot of it actually required paperwork-something that Tony had never prepared you for. Then your phone started ringing and the sound of Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing started blasting from it.
The ring tone made you burst out in laughter, seeing Sam’s contact name alongside a photo of him giving you the middle finger showing on screen.
“You seriously need to change that Bug!” you scoffed at Peter “No I don’t it’s funny! He’s the one who went on and on about how great Marvin Gaye is. It’s only right that I honor that sentiment”
He shook his head at you, the brunette then glancing towards Joaquin who quickly looked away. Peter could practically feel the laser beams shooting from Joaquin’s glare towards the both of you.
Then you answered the phone, putting it on speaker.
Another annoying habit of yours that made Joaquin’s jaw clench.
“Hi Father America, how can I help you on this pristine day?” Sam’s sigh was loud over the phone, meanwhile you and Peter looked at each other and shared a muffled laugh.
“Did you finish those reports? Gotta know what we’re fully up against, and the press is on my ass over it. Also have you heard from Kate? She said she’s been trying to reach out to Yelena but y’know they’re always on and off again” you shrugged, then realized he couldn’t actually see you.
The long silence followed by Sam’s “once again, shrugging while we’re on a phone call isn’t helpful for me here kid.” you rolled your eyes at that, elbowing Peter slightly who laughed at you.
“Nope, haven't heard from Kate, she was still wallowing in her relationship sorrow last time we spoke, also did you see that Bob guy? You think Buck will put in a good word for me?”
The comment made Joaquin choke on his coffee, you didn’t register that though as Peter responded “Seriously Bug? Can you not act like yourself for five minutes? Maybe don’t go try jumping someone’s bones who literally turned into like a black mass and overtook Manhattan?” you sighed at that, shaking your head.
“He’s just misunderstood I could fix him, with this pus-” Peter was quick to cut you off, a hand over your mouth as your words were muffled, meanwhile Joaquin scoffed, rolling his eyes again.
“Okay, Sorry about that Sam, Bug’s gonna finish the reports soon, she just got the last few satellite files from Joaquin, we’ll call you back later when she’s in her right mind again!” with that he hung up your phone.
One thing Joaquin clearly didn’t understand was how Peter was alright with you making comments like that. He was under the assumption that the two of you were dating, you spent most of your time together, went out together constantly, it only made sense. Maybe he just wasn’t the jealous type, Joaquin could respect that to a certain extent.
You quickly swatted Peter’s hands away. “You’re really raining on my shine here Parker!” he laughed at that, shaking his head at you.
Sam eventually got back to the office to go over the reports with you, meanwhile Joaquin offered side quips that you easily shut down, rolling your eyes a few times at his antics. Then you were walking everyone through the several different dimensional aspects to the most recent space-level threat and the Avengers response.
Joaquin leaned against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest, when he wasn’t looking you were quick to peek at the way his biceps bulged. He was glaring in your direction the entire time you spoke, pulling up the holographic feeds, zooming in and out of different bits and portions, elaborating on the issue and the scope of it all.
You were too smart and that also pissed him off.
By the time you were finished with the long winded explanation, and answering a few of Sam’s questions on the matter, you were tired and ready to head home. Then Sam cleared his throat as you packed your things.
You didn’t live far off base, and you’d shared a townhouse with Peter, it was a nice place, nothing compared to New York, but you were settling in just fine.
“Actually, none of you are headed home, remember how I said a go bag is a necessity, yeah, well we’re all headed over to the airport, then we’re headed into New York to the backhanded ‘New Avengers’ tower for that big Gala. There are ground rules here, the biggest one is you and you-” he paused to point at you, then at Joaquin “need to get the hell along. We’re walking into a building full of super soldiers, ex-war criminals, and that guy who turned into a black mass-”
You interrupted Sam “so do you think I have a shot with him, these are the important questions-so what if he’s a little evil, I could fix him!” Sam groaned.
“Peter please control your friend” Peter sighed and nodded his head.
“Okay, now back to what's important, actually as a matter of fact, a new rule just for you Bug, you are not allowed to seduce Bob!” you sighed, shoulders dropping and bottom lip pouting “-okay but can I seduce someone?” he shook his head, nostrils flaring slightly while he stared at you.
“No! You can’t seduce any of them, Jesus Christ do I need to put you on a leash?” you were about to make a joke out of that, until Peter quickly pulled you into his side, a hand over your mouth, earning an irritated groan from you.
“We’re headed to the airport, get your go bags, pack your computers and whatnot because our flight is set to take off in two hours. I’ve already got someone up there getting you all something more gala-like. Kate’s also meeting us up there as well.”
By the time that you’d all arrived in New York, you were exhausted. You knew that everyone would be spending the weekend in the New Avengers tower, and you had no expectations of how it would actually look, not when you knew how it originally looked, and when the place held a few memories that you didn’t want to relive.
It was a shell of what it used to be, that was certain.
The building had been remodeled, there was a lack of character here, everything felt too new, too modern. It didn’t have the same touches that Tony had left, things were different now.
You hated it.
But you couldn’t complain, not yet at least. Not when everyone was busy greeting you and your eyes were jumping from person to person, studying each of the New Avengers, you’d read about the ones you didn’t know personally, most of them had serious criminal backgrounds.
Then again, if you weren’t technically an Avenger, you would’ve had a serious criminal background as well.
“Ah, you must be the Bug we have heard much about!” you blinked a few times, a large russian man looking down at you with a wide smile on his face, then he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, lifting you right off of the ground as your eyes widened. It was kind of nice though, the kind of hug that reminded you of Thor. So you smiled and hugged him back.
That action surprised several people in the room.
Then he put you down.
“I have heard much about your battle stories, you are a strong fighter, yes?” you shrugged “something like that” which earned a scoff from Joaquin, and you were quick to glare at him.
“I’m Alexei Shostakov, the Red Guardian.” you nodded at him, introducing yourself, following it with “but everyone calls me Bug” then you shook his hand.
Clearly he was the nicest out of everyone.
Well that and, everyone had been conversing with Sam, or rather watching Sam and Bucky argue and awkwardly introducing themselves, even though everyone pretty much knew everyone, and then Kate and Yelena were off in a corner whisper shouting at each other yet again.
“So why do they call you Bug?” you shrugged at him, now sitting at the bar with the older man “Honestly, Mr. Stark-uh Tony-used to call me Bug. Said it was because I was always bugging him, and my best friend was a spider, so of course I’d be some kind of bug too” he nodded as you spoke.
Meanwhile Joaquin tried to act as if he wasn’t eavesdropping. He honestly had never thought to ask you why people called you Bug, he just knew he didn’t have that privilege. That also kind of irritated him too.
What was so irritating about you? He didn’t get it.
The next day rolls around faster than you expected, and after waking up in a guest bedroom, halfway off of the king sized bed, you realize that you were tossing and turning all night. Then you glanced around the room, all of the furniture was dark, but it wasn’t dark wood, it was black with silver hardware, and honestly, it reminded you of an upscale hotel in the worst way.
Peter was across the room, sprawled out across the large sofa after having lost the game of rock paper scissors you’d played over who would sleep in the bed. Typically you would’ve had your own room, however Sam labeled you as a ‘flight risk’, and stated that you needed someone to be with you, so of course you were quick to say Peter.
Joaquin was constantly an asshole to you, it made zero sense for you to want to be around him.
It didn’t matter how attractive he was, or how nice his biceps looked, or how kissable his lips were. Nor did it matter that you liked his hair, or his smile, or really anything about him. He was an absolute dick to you, and he’d been that way since the both of you had started working together.
Initially, when you’d met him through Sam and Bucky, he wasn’t that bad, sure he talked a lot, but you hardly saw him. Then, when Sam had asked if you and Peter wanted to come to D.C. to work with him, that’s when things started changing. Slowly but surely, Joaquin was more hostile towards you.
You thought that maybe you’d done something wrong at first, but then after talking to Peter about it, and venting about how annoying he was, you realized that you hadn’t done anything and Joaquin was just being an asshole.
So you kept your distance, and of course, anytime he was rude, you had to be ruder. He brought out the worst in you at times, you weren’t outwardly a mean person, but spending too much time around him brought out that side of you.
“Peter! Wake up! Before Sam kicks our asses!” he groaned, nodding his head as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes a bit.
It’d taken the both of you about twenty minutes to get up and ready for the day, the gala was tonight and Sam had said they’d already gotten you both your outfits. Peter would be in a black suit with a white shirt, meanwhile you were in a red floor length dress. Why was it crimson? You had no idea, maybe to pay homage to your magic, or to your previous mentor that had flown off her rocker and gone into the deep end of insanity? Who knows.
You were currently seated on the bed, legs crossed in front of you as you rapidly typed. Sam had texted you a screenshot of information that he’d gotten from Bucky. Something about Valentina’s assistant giving him information, you weren’t really awake enough to process where it came from, but you were told to work your magic and get past a few firewalls.
Everything was going fine until your hands started to cramp.
Peter also wasn’t in the room anymore, he was out ‘networking’ as he called it. You groaned, putting your laptop on the bed beside you, taking a minute to clench and unclench your fists, doing your best to relax your hands.
Then you spotted Joaquin in the hallway, and god damnit, he would be your saving grace whether he liked it or not.
“Torres! Come here!” you were loud as you shouted his name, he blinked a few times, walking backwards a few steps, now gazing into your room, rolling his eyes at the sight of you in the middle of the large bed like some kind of princess.
“What?” you rolled your eyes at his evident attitude.
“Listen, I don’t have time for the sassy man apocalypse today, I need help with something Sam asked me about” you motioned for him to come into the room with your hand, brows raised expectantly as you stared at him. He shook his head before walking into the room, then you waved your hand slightly, the door shutting behind him.
“Like come here, not stand by the door.” you aggressively pat the bed beside you, and he let out a frustrated sigh as he made his way over, now sitting beside you, but also practically halfway off the bed. You rolled your eyes at him, grabbing his forearm and dragging him closer, you tried to ignore how firm his arms were-that was a thought for another day.
“Stop acting like a shy virgin about to hookup for the first time. I don’t have time for this, Sam needs this information asap, so here” you handed him the laptop, now pointing at the screen “I need you to finish bypassing this, my fucking hands are killing me and you’re the best hacker I know-don’t let that inflate your ego either”
He glanced at you, then at the laptop. Then he started typing, eyes scanning your previous work as he found a few quicker work-arounds.
Meanwhile you watched him, your eyes tracing along the veins in his hands, taking in every small detail. His hands were pretty big, you hadn’t really noticed that before, they looked firm and strong. His forearms were nice too, a bit toned, his skin had a golden tan.
Then your eyes moved along his figure. His hair was still damp, a few loose curls lightly touching his forehead. His jawline was sharp and defined, part of you wanted to reach out and touch it, but you didn’t want to make things weird.
Although, he was always an asshole to you, so what would making things weird really do?.
You reached over slowly, one finger gently tracing the slope of his jawline, the feeling had him freezing up, eyes widening at the feather-light touch against his face.
“You have a nice jawline Torres.”
He slowly glanced over at you, now finally processing the smell of citrus in the room, the warmth of the sun's rays against your skin as you looked at him. He noticed how soft your lips looked, and how focused you were on him.
It didn’t help that you were wearing a pair of black shorts that were riding all the way up your thighs, but the grey Midtown sweatshirt you wore ripped him out of his potential fantasy. His jaw clenched at the sight and he leaned away from your touch before shrugging your hand away from him.
“Thanks, now stop being a creep.”
You scoffed at that. “Seriously? A creep? Why do you always have to be such an asshole to me!”
He blinked a few times, rolling his eyes as he continued typing.
“Wow, the silent treatment, well aren’t you fucking mature. Damn, learn how to take a compliment you douchebag." Then you were quick to get off the bed, he watched as you moved away-which probably wasn’t the best idea because as you walked off, his eyes were focused solely on the way your ass moved in your shorts.
The sound of the door slamming practically echoed inside of the room.
Then he was looking around, annoyed at the fact that you were probably lying in this bed last night side by side with Peter Parker of all people. It was irrational for him to be annoyed by the thought, but genuinely, what did you even see in Peter?
Okay, so maybe Peter wasn’t ugly, and he was a good kid, plus he was really smart, and he had the whole ‘Spider-man’ thing going for him- okay maybe Joaquin did understand what you saw in Peter. But that didn’t make it any less annoying.
That’s when it hit him.
“Am I jealous of Peter Parker?” he spoke to himself, brows knit together as he looked down at your laptop, now realizing that he’d gotten into the system, then he noticed the notebook you had on the bed with a jumbled mess of scribbles and notes of things Sam wanted you to figure out.
He knew that this job stressed you out, that much had always been obvious because it stressed him out too. So he decided to actually be a nice guy for once, going through your sloppy checklist and pulling the necessary information on the Sentry project, on the Darkholder Cult, and on a few under the table weapons manufacturing deals.
Once he finished, he was quick to retrace all of his steps, ensuring nothing could be traced back to you, then he exited out of every tab, only to come face to face with your laptop background, a photo of you, Peter, and an older Brunette woman with large glasses on her face.
You were younger in the photo, and based on the burnt cupcake in your hand with two small candles showcasing ‘15’ on them, he knew it had to have been your birthday.
He wanted to snoop through your things, but then the door opened, and in walked Peter who looked a bit surprised to see Joaquin there.
“Let me guess, you two got into it again?”
He nodded his head at the question, watching as Peter walked over to the sofa in the room, sitting down and now digging through one of his bags.
“Between me and you, I think you really need to stop being a dick to her man, it’s only making things worse on your end.”
Joaquin blinked a few times at the advice, sure it was sound advice, but he didn’t need sound advice from your boyfriend.
“I just don’t get it, you two would make sense, but you guys are just constantly going head to head. Y’know Mr. Stark always used to tell her she needed to find someone that could out-argue her, I guess that actually might be you.”
Joaquin blinked a few times, now utterly confused, glancing from the laptop to Peter.
He then grabbed a few things and stood up. “But y’know, what would I know right?” He shrugged, leaving the room.
Then Joaquin was alone again.
By the time that he’d actually left your room and managed to find everyone, he spotted you talking to Bob. That made his blood boil. You were smiling while he said something, Joaquin didn’t give a shit what anyone had to say to you, there was no reason that you should’ve been practically beaming at him.
He couldn’t have been that funny or entertaining.
So he decided he would make his presence known, waltzing right up to you, then throwing an arm around your shoulders. He smirked at your shocked expression, then he glanced at Bob who just looked confused, glancing between you and Joaquin.
“Uh-I guess we can talk later then?”
You nodded at Bob, mumbling an apology on Joaquin’s behalf as the brunette awkwardly nodded and walked away. Then you let out a deep sigh, shoving Joaquin off of you. Glancing around the room, you realized that while it was a large space, it was clear that this was the last place to yell at him.
So you grabbed his arm and dragged him off, finding a random quiet hall.
You shove him, “What the fuck is your problem? You’re constantly such an asshole to me, then you do stupid shit like that!”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes.“So sorry I stopped you from throwing yourself at Bob”
You shove him again.“I wasn’t even throwing myself at him! Sam said to talk to everyone, y’know be social?! He’s working his ass off to try to find some fucking solution to this whole his Avengers vs Valentina’s Avengers fiasco and you’re just being a self centered dick!” you were yelling now.
He shook his head “As if you give a shit about any of that!”
You scoffed, jaw dropping. “Well excuse the fuck out of me, I didn’t know Joaquin Torres knew a single god damn thing that I gave a shit about! You don’t even know me. You know jack shit about me!”
He was quiet now, trying to come up with something to say, anything to prove that you weren’t right.
But you were too quick.
“Exactly, silence because even you know it’s true. You don’t know the first fucking thing about me, and yet for the past year and a half, you’ve treated me like the bane of your existence. I get that you’re mister hot shot Falcon now, but for fucks sake, you don’t need to be such a douchebag! You couldn’t even tell me my favorite color. That’s how little you know about me.”
He scoffed. “As if you could tell me mine”
You shook your head. “It’s orange, your favorite fucking color is orange, the bright ass orange that matches the University of Miami’s orange. You jackass.” With that you walked off again, shaking your head, while muttering a series of curse words. Whenhe tried to follow you, you waved a hand in the air, a random vase flying towards him.
Part of you wanted to blow something up, the other part of you wanted to kick Joaquin in the chest.
There was a sliver that was upset though, upset that he genuinely thought so little of you.
Before you could storm off to your room like a child throwing a temper tantrum, you stormed right into Bucky, practically falling back after walking right into him, but he easily steadied you.
“Seriously Bug? Still angry walking and not paying attention?”
You sighed, looking at Bucky and shaking your head. It took him half a second to realize who made you angry.
“Let me guess, you and Joaquin still haven’t kissed and made up?”
You scoffed at him, shaking your head, then you were walking in sync with him. You honestly had no idea where Bucky was headed, but now you were too busy venting to him about your problems. Besides, you always used to vent to him about anything and everything prior to him going off to pursue being a Congressman.
“No, Buck, you don’t understand. I’ve done nothing to him! Nothing at all! And still no matter what, he’s constantly an asshole to me! It’s like if I even breathe the wrong way he’s just mad about it. Now, we have this stupid gala to be at tonight and I have to wear a stupid dress and I’m already irritated, then, then I’m talking to Bob, y’know being nice like Sam said to be! Sure, I think the guy’s hot-he’s got the whole shy introvert thing going on-but I’m not over here throwing myself at him!”
Bucky nodded as you spoke, humming every so often so you knew he was listening. Meanwhile he was trying to figure out the best way to let you know that Joaquin Torres was obviously in love with you.
“Then-then get this Buck! He’s just mean to be mean! Today I complimented him, sure I was a little too touchy feely, but then he like jerks away from me and acts like I have the damn plague or something! Whatever happened to extending an olive branch and not being a dickhead?!”
Bucky laughed at that, it wasn’t a light laugh either, no it was loud and boisterous and it caught you off guard.
“You probably flustered him. He’s just a guy, don’t get too caught up in him being an asshole, alright? There’s plenty of other fish in the sea that won’t make you so mad you’re about to blow a hole in the tower.”
You nodded at that.
After your conversation with Bucky, you were quick to make it back to your designated room, finding your laptop and finalizing all of your work related documents, then you knew it was about time to start getting ready for the obnoxious Gala, and of course, that also meant having to mix and mingle with everyone.
So you screamed into a pillow six times, then started getting ready. Showering and doing your best not to wet your hair was the longest part, then you’d gone back over your hair, ensuring that your hair and extensions were blended seamlessly as you sat in front of the floor length mirror curling them.
Makeup was easy, mostly because you didn’t have it in you to do an entire glamorous look, instead you’d opted for something soft and simple with a bold red lip to compliment the obnoxious dress they’d chosen for you.
You still didn’t even know who picked the dress out, but your money was on Kate, considering she’d asked you for your exact measurements three days ago over text. Plus she had an eye for dramatics.
By the time that Peter had showed up to get dressed and ready, you were sorting through your jewelry, with your ‘I hate men’ playlist on full volume.
He opted to stay quiet, getting dressed as you angrily applied your makeup and fixed your hair. Once it was time for you to put the dress on, you walked into the ensuite, slamming the door behind you in your own silent rage.
How Joaquin had the nerve to treat you the way he did was just baffling to you? It made no sense!
You were jumping up and down trying to get the zipper to work on the back of your dress, huffing and puffing a few times before yelling out “Can you come help me?!”.
When the bathroom door opened, you expected Peter. When your eyes met Joaquin’s in the reflection, you debated on kicking his ass right then and there, but that wouldn’t be possible, considering one of your hands was on the front of your dress, holding it up against your bare chest, while your other hand was leaning against the countertop.
He stared at you with his lips slightly parted, and if you weren’t so irritated, maybe you would’ve blushed.
“Can you zip my fucking dress up instead of staring at me?”
He rolled his eyes at that, now standing behind you, holding the top of the dress together, then finding the zipper closer to your lower back. His brows knit together at the sight of the tattoo along your spine, and that knowledge made him a little light headed.
“Didn’t know you had tattoos.”
You scoffed. “Once again, you don’t know shit about me so that’s not very shocking, Torres”.
He shook his head at that, grasping the zipper and slowly sliding it up until he hit the top. His hands lingered on your skin for a few seconds after, then you were shoving him away, walking right past him, practically shoulder checking him on the way out of the en suite.
You gave Peter a dirty look while he fumbled with his tie.
“Ugh, c’mere let me fix it.” You were adjusting Peter’s tie, all while Joaquin leaned against the doorframe and watched. The sight had his right eye twitching slightly.
Once the Gala was in full swing you were mingling with everyone, flashing fake smiles, a few winks, and even a few flirty lines to some of the older more influential politicians and socialites there. It was easy to get information out of them, a handful of giggles and a shy smile was everything they needed from you.
It also helped that your tits were practically out, sitting pretty in your crimson dress, as if you were Jessica Rabbit herself.
Joaquin stayed in the back for the most part, ignoring the pent up aggression in his body while his eyes followed you through the room. Each and every person you spoke to, he made a mental note of, part of his job was to do reconn, the other part was to keep you safe.
At least that’s what Sam had told him prior to the event. Meanwhile, Peter was nowhere to be found, but that was also most likely because he was touring the research facilities with some of the other influential scientists present. Valentina made sure to dot all of her I’s and cross each and every one of her T’s to make tonight successful.
You didn’t even want to be there, you’d even run into Kate and Yelena, both of them doing exactly what you were doing, which earned a few succinct head nods and winks.
The music was too loud, the champagne was disgusting, your head was hurting, and you were still a ball of pent up rage. Across the room, Joaquin was feeling the same exact way.
It wasn’t until some politician’s son had pulled you to the dance floor in a different room for a shitty slow dance that Joaquin had finally snapped. Maybe it was the way you smiled at the man, laughing, getting too close for comfort, pressing your ample chest against his own. Or maybe it was the way that you let the man’s hands roam along your waist, down to the curve of your ass that really got to him.
Joaquin didn’t know, nor did he care.
All he knew was within seconds he was behind you, gently pulling you back and away, offering some half-assed excuse about needing to handle Avengers business, then he was dragging you away from everyone.
You two stood in silence in the elevator, the air was thick with tension and you wanted nothing more than to rip his head off like a female praying mantis.
Then, the doors dinged and he dragged you down the hall, right to his room and as he kicked the door shut, he stared right at you in the dimly lit room.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
You scoffed at the question, taken aback, laughing at his outburst.“You dragged me away from our job to ask me what my god damn problem is? Meanwhile, you’ve been nothing but an asshole to me for forever at this point, you don’t know anything about me, and still you constantly judge me, and constantly talk down to me like I’m some little fucking kid. Newsflash Torres, I’m twenty five not six.”
He shook his head at that, taking a deep breath.
“Your favorite color is blue. It’s not sky blue, it’s not navy, no it’s the color of a Robin’s egg, it’s not exactly blue and it’s not exactly green.”
You stood in silence at that, brows knit together as you looked at him.
“You have a playlist for every bad mood you’ve ever been in, and I’ve probably contributed to more than half of them. Your favorite season is Spring and you hate the winter, you smell like fucking sunshine and oranges and lemons and it drives me insane because you drive me insane.”
He ran a hand through his hair while he spoke, then he loosened his tie, with one hand, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if he was hot.
Joaquin was absolutely burning up.
“Being around you makes me feel like I’m fucking losing my mind, everything about you pisses me off to no extend, I can’t stand it when you’re around but I hate it when you’re gone-” you cut him off, closing the space between the both of you, pressing your lips against his.
When you tried to pull away he placed a hand on the back of your neck, lightly holding you in place, lips moving against yours. The kiss was anything but sweet, it was all teeth and tongue, pent up anger, jealousy, and downright delusion. Every single aspect of his being was on fire, and you were the only thing that could extinguish it.
He backed you up against the door, the thick mahogany cold against your back was the only thing grounding you. His hand stayed behind your neck, the other on your waist, holding you against him firmly. He’d easily won control of the kiss, it was like he was trying to prove himself.
You were intoxicating and maddening.
It was sending him deeper and deeper into a hole that he wasn’t sure he’d ever get out of.
His lower half was pressed directly against you, but the second you bit his bottom lip, one of his legs easily slid between yours, practically pinning you against the door. His grip on your waist bruising while he started trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat.
He spoke between kisses “do you know-” kiss “-how crazy you make me-” kiss “every single day of my life”. Then as he met your pulse point, you gasped, earning a smirk from him before he started nipping at the skin there, sucking a harsh mark against you, your hands now in his hair, tugging at the curls as your back arched into him.
“Shit-fuck you Torres” he nodded at that, tongue gliding against the freshly bruised skin.
“Trust me, you’re gonna” you blinked a few times, letting out a raspy laugh, shaking your head at him.
“This why you’re always so mean? Cause you wanna fuck me? Could’ve just asked nicely” he groaned at your flirtatious tone, a short giggle leaving your lips as his tongue moved against your neck, tracing your skin, the saltiness made him moan. He wanted to run his tongue along your entire body.
He shook his head, leaving another bruising kiss to your exposed skin as he started moving lower, then you gasped as the hand that was on the back of your neck slid between your body and the door, easily finding the dress’s zipper, slowly tugging it down.
“Gonna make you mine for tonight” his words were muffled against your skin, lips moving along your exposed shoulders down to the swell of your chest. Then he was pulling the dress down, moaning against your skin.
“These are so nice-you’re so fuckin pretty” he took his time, kissing along each of your tits, leaving a few marks. Each time you pulled his hair, he’d moan then lightly bite against your supple skin. He took his time trailing his tongue along each of your nipples. Rolling the hardened peaks between his teeth before lightly sucking against them.
Your whimpers and gasps were like music to his ears.
You managed to press yourself closer to him, head leaned against the door behind you as he moved lower and lower, pulling your gown down to the ground as he tried to kiss every single inch of your exposed skin.
His lips were searing, he felt like he was on fire. His ears were practically ringing.
Then he was on his knees, pulling his tie off, tossing it to the side as he helped you step out of the dress. Then you were being pushed further against the door, one of your thighs now resting against his shoulder while he kissed along your lower stomach, moving to your upper thighs, then he bit into your inner thigh, a sharp gasp leaving your lips.
When met with your clothed pussy he moaned, leaning into it, nose practically pressed against the wet patch as he took a deep inhale, biting his bottom lip before licking a flat stripe against the thin lace.
“Smell so good-fuck can I taste you?” your eyes widened at his needy tone, nodding your head as you looked down at him, he looked absolutely wrecked and he’d barely even touched you.
He used one hand to pull your panties to the side, moaning at the sight of your glistening cunt.
The Joaquin Torres you were seeing now was a completely different man than the one that’d been purposefully being an asshole to you for months.
He looked desperate as he licked his lips, a breathy laugh slipping past his kiss-swollen lips before he leaned in, tongue flat against your cunt, moving from your weeping entrance to your clit.
Your hands were back in his hair in seconds.
That was all it took for him to absolutely lose himself in your cunt. He focused on lapping his tongue against your clit, swirling around the pearl as if it was his last meal, moaning at your taste. Then he brought it into his mouth, sucking on it as if he was dying of thirst, the motion made your thighs shake slightly.
You tried to push him away-it was too much.
But he’d just begun. He used one of his hands to pin you in place, fingers digging into your thigh, holding you right against him, the other hand was currently focused on undoing his belt, trying to relieve the pressure on his restrained cock.
You were loud, louder than he expected as you ground yourself against his face, moaning a mixture between half-spoken words and whines.
He didn’t let up, keeping his focus on your clit while you felt the coil in your abdomen tightening. Then he moved away from your clit slightly, licking against it a few more times before trailing down, tongue now prodding at your sopping entrance, the slight intrusion made you light headed.
Joaquin was teasing you now, enjoying the sting from you pulling his hair and your low whines and whimpers. Not to mention the way you tasted, he’d stay between your thighs for days if you’d let him.
“Fuck-please I need more” he smirked, now pulling away to look up at you.
“More what?” you let out a low whimper at that, now looking down at him again, your brows knit together, lips swollen and parted, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin.
You were glowing, he wanted to be a little mean, but he couldn’t, not when you were looking at him so desperately.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you everything you need” then his tongue was back on your clit, and one of his thick fingers was sliding right into your hole, he was met with a little resistance as you immediately clenched around the digit, your walls fluttering, then practically pulling him in as you ground your hips against his hand and face.
Then he slid a second finger in, and you just about lost it, your back arching even harder, a high pitched moan practically echoing in the room as you were creaming around his fingers, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on them to prolong your own orgasm.
He bit his lip at the sight of you, then he started moving his fingers, thrusting them into you, curling them perfectly, finding the spot that made you see stars.
It was too much, but you couldn’t push him away, not when he had you pinned between himself and the door.
He continued to suck on your clit, moaning at the taste of you as his fingers sped up, the sloshing sound of your cunt was almost embarrassing. You were positive you’d never been this wet in your life.
He didn’t care anymore, he didn’t have time to be sweet or gentle with you, his pace was brutal, fingers practically pounding into you while his tongue flicked against your swollen bundle of nerves. Except the faster and harder his fingers fucked into you, the slower his tongue moved against your clit.
He looked up at you, hooded eyes moving from your tits, moaning at the sight of them slightly bouncing as you ground yourself against him, to your pretty face. You were biting your bottom lip, one hand still in his hair, the other moving to your thigh that was propped up on his shoulder.
Joaquin thought you were going to try to push his hand away, instead you grasped it, yours clutching against the top of his. That made him blush-as if he wasn’t already flushed from tongue fucking you.
You were an absolute wreck above him. He knew you were close, your walls constantly clenching around his fingers.
“You’re so fuckin tight-can’t wait to get my cock in you” you nodded at that, biting your bottom lip and whimpering. “Gonna fuck you so good-make you forget all about anyone else” you were moaning above him, getting closer and closer to your orgasm, chasing your high as you practically bounced against his penetrating digits.
“Yeah, you’d want that huh? Want me to fuck you stupid?” you tugged harshly on his hair, pushing him back into your cunt, the motion earned a throaty laugh from him. Then his tongue was back on your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure as he focused on the rosebud.
Then you were gushing on his fingers and the lower half of his face. It had initially caught him off guard, then he pulled back, watching your cunt squirt for him as he finger fucked you through your orgasm.
He then slowly pulled his fingers out, smirking at you whimpering. Then his fingers were in his mouth as he licked them clean before his tongue was back on you, licking and slurping everything, moaning at the taste of you.
“Fuck Torres-shit stop-” you were now pushing his head away, still out of breath as you looked down at him. He sat back on his haunches, looking right at you, his face still wet, chest rising and falling, and it was then that you noticed his belt was undone, his pants were unzipped, and there was a very large tent emphasizing his hard-on.
Your legs were a bit wobbly as you leaned against the door, then he slowly stood up, tossing his suit jacket to the side.
Then he stood up, and suddenly you felt too exposed. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes trailed along your nearly-nude figure. Taking in every single detail of your body.
“You’re beautiful y’know that” you rolled your eyes at him, shoving past him and walking towards the bed, and when he stood in place, just watching you, head tilted to the side as his eyes focused on your ass and thighs you scoffed.
“Are you gonna fuck me or stare me down?”
He shook his head at your tone. Then he started unbuttoning his shirt as he approached you. “That attitudes gotta go Princessa” you rolled your eyes at the pet name, slowly starting to remember why you didn’t like him in the first place.
Then when you stood at the edge of his bed facing away from him, he smirked, pushing you down, guiding your body onto the mattress. Once you were on it, he was quick to grasp your hips, pulling them up, his strength shocked you. Then again he was an Air Force Captain and the Falcon for a reason.
His hand was at the small of your back, pushing you down slightly, enjoying the way that you arched for him while your upper body was flat against the bed. He wasn’t going to force you onto your hands and knees-not when he knew you couldn’t take it.
Then you started moving your hips, swaying them side to side as your legs parted a bit further. But when you were on your forearms, taking a second to look back at him, your hair cascading around your figure while you met his eyes-that was his breaking point.
He didn’t even fully remove his pants, he pulled his cock out as fast as possible, and you moaned at the sight. Joaquin looked directly at you as he slowly stroked his cock, then he was leaning forward, one hand outstretched close to your face.
“Spit” you raised a brow, eyeing his hand, then his dick, then as you made eye contact you moved closer to his hand, slowly spitting into it, letting it glide off of your tongue right into his palm. He bit his lip at the sight, then pulled his hand back, now running it along his cock.
“You gonna let me fuck you just like this? Fuck you raw so you can feel it all?” you nodded at him, ignoring the part of your brain screaming at you that it was a bad idea. This was Joaquin Torres, he was an asshole! But you couldn’t give less of a shit right now.
Then he was closer to you, tapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit a few times, the motion making you whimper. He started running the tip along your cunt, and each time it would catch on your entrance, you’d roll your eyes and whine.
You hadn’t expected him to land a firm slap to your ass-the motion caught you off guard, eyes widening at the feeling. Then he did it again, and on the third time you let out a broken moan.
“I always thought you were wound too tight, guess you just need to be fucked good huh?” his condescending tone made you whimper, your forehead resting against your arms while you clenched around nothing. The sight had him biting his bottom lip, watching as your pussy fluttered over and over again.
He hadn’t stopped jerking himself off as he watched you, then he was lining himself up with your entrance and part of him wanted to go slow, but you were just too fucking agitating. So the second he was able to slide the head of his cock into you, he bottomed out in one harsh thrust, the motion practically knocking the air out of your lungs.
Your back arched even harder-the sight had his brows raised while he took a second to breathe.
“Fuck-you’re so fuckin tight, cunt’s gripping me in a vice” you moaned at his words, taking a few deep breaths as you tried to adjust to him.
“‘S too big-fuck you’re too deep” your words were slurred together as you tried to move your hips, he was invading each and every one of your senses, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
He shushed you as he slowly pulled out “It’s okay, you can take it-I know you can” you moaned at his words, toes curling slightly, one hand moved back-you tried to push him away, but he grasped it instead, now holding your wrist, pinning your hand in place on your lower back while he started fucking into you.
Joaquin was slow at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, he knew he wasn’t exactly small, but the way you were practically mewling from the stretch was making him feel light headed.
“Just like that baby, relax into it, taking it so well now-” he spoke as he started building a rhythm, each thrust earning moans and whimpers from you. He bit his lip at the sight of him fucking into you, watching as your pussy swallowed him whole, over and over again. “-just like that baby, fuck, pussy was made f’me”
You were fluttering around him again. He let go of your hand, instead leaning over you more, grasping your hair, pulling you up slightly, your hands catching on the bed, holding yourself in place at the new angle. Then he dropped your hair, one hand on your jaw now, while he leaned into your space.
“Feel that Princessa? Feel how deep I am, fuck, look at you, can’t even talk huh?” you nodded at him, head leaning back now as you tried to look at him, but you couldn’t focus on anything he was saying, not when he started fucking you harder and faster.
Then two of his fingers slid into your mouth, you were quick to start sucking on them, swirling your tongue around them as he muffled your whimpers.
He bit his bottom lip, now sliding his fingers to the side of your mouth, keeping it open, pulling you back slightly just like that. They were hooked into your cheek and you were leaning into his hand, spit dribbling along his fingers and your jaw while he practically pounded into you.
The mixture of your moans and his were loud, but not as loud as the sound of skin slapping and the wet slosh of your cunt.
“‘M gonna cum-please-fuck let me cum” you were begging him, words a bit slurred as he was still pulling against the side of your mouth. The sounds of you begging had his hips faltering slightly, but he easily regained his rhythm, now moving his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your spit along your jaw as his hand wrapped around your throat.
Then he was leaning over you, practically caging you in as he kept his relentless pace. You leaned your head back against his shoulder as he lightly tightened his grip on your throat, the added pressure making your head fuzzy.
“You wanna cream all over my cock huh baby?” you nodded, looking to the side slightly, trying your best to look at him.
You were so fucked out and that only turned him on more. His lips were on yours in an instant. You couldn’t really kiss Joaquin back, you tried, but you were just moaning and whimpering against his lips.
“Fuck-cum for me princessa” you nodded, moaning as you felt yourself tip over the edge into a sea of ecstasy, except it was never ending, he fucked you through your orgasm, moaning against your shoulder as your cunt clenched around him.
He was quick to pull out of you, resting his head on your shoulder for a few seconds before moving back. You were too focused on catching your breath to focus on what he was doing. Then you felt it-his tongue back on your cunt, and you were a mess of whines and whimpers, hands clutching the duvet below at the overstimulation.
“You’re so sensitive, so fuckin reactive all the time-fuck you drive me crazy” he spoke before licking a flat stripe along your used cunt, then his tongue moved further, until it was resting along your other hole, lightly lapping at it, the newfound sensation made your eyes widened. Then he slid two fingers back into you, tongue lapping at your ass while he curled his fingers inside of you.
When he slid in a third finger, you were babbling, begging him for a break.
He smirked at the sound, pulling his fingers and tongue away from your fucked out pussy.
As he moved back, he watched you practically flop into the bed, biting his lip at the sight of you in his bed. Where you belong.
Then he was slapping your ass again a few times before helping you roll over.
“We’re not done baby” he stroked his cock as he spoke to you, you nodded your head at him, looking at him, eyes trailing along his bare chest, then down to his big cock, hand curled around it. “Eyes are up here Princess” you blinked a few times, gaze now on his.
You laughed while he kicked off his pants, he rolled his eyes at you for a few seconds, but for the first time in a long time, it was playful.
Then he made his way onto the bed, easily spreading your legs, making room for him between them as he used one arm to hold his weight above you. Now the two of you were face to face again, your eyes trailing his features, while he did the same thing.
“You ready beautiful?” you raised a single brow, wrapping one leg around his waist, pulling him closer to you. The motion made the both of you laugh.
It was nice to laugh with Joaquin.
He lined himself back up with your entrance, and as he slowly rolled his hips into you, you gasped, back arching slightly while one of your hands gripped against his side, nails digging into his tanned skin.
“Can you go slow?” your voice was breathy, and the question was almost a whisper. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him pulling his hips back.
Your question made his heart race, his eyes practically popping out of his head. It wasn’t that Joaquin had anything against slow sex, but he was already on top of you, and he was about to lose his mind and profess his love to you like an idiot.
It didn’t help that even after a few orgasms, your cunt was still squeezing him in a vice grip.
“You feel so fuckin good baby” you nodded at the praise “and you’re so pretty, fuck just look at you” his free hand was now on your jaw, thumb tugging at your bottom lip slightly while he spoke.
“Fuck-need you to be mine” you nodded at his words, too cockdrunk to care about anything that he was saying. The intimacy of it all was sending you to cloud nine.
Then he started moving a bit faster, fucking into you a bit harder-the new pace had your eyes opening, looking up at him while you rolled your hips into him, meeting his motions.
“Just like that baby-fuck taking it so good-so fuckin tight” you nodded at his words, pulling his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it briefly before he pressed it against your tongue.
“Open your mouth, fuck-good girl-just like that” then he leaned over and spit directly on your tongue before pulling you into a sloppy heated kiss. Your lips moved in sync as you both swallowed each other’s moans, your hands were scratching along his back as his thrusts got faster and a bit more sporadic.
He pulled back for air just in time to hear you moan his name.
“Fuck-say it again baby” you nodded, moaning his name while he trailed open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders “-fuck I’m close-where do you want it?” his breathy words were strained and raspy while he moaned against your skin.
You moved one hand, now tugging on his hair again as you moaned out “Inside-fuck inside Joaquin” he let out a deep gutteral moan at that.
Then he started talking, and it was a bit incoherent at first, but you fully understood him the longer he spoke “fuck-feels so fuckin good baby-fuck gonna fill you up-fuck a baby into you- make you mine forever” you couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips following his words.
“Just like that, fuckin little cunt’s squeezing me so well-that’s what you want huh? Want me to fill you up? Want me to make you mine?” you nodded, your eyes watering from the overstimulation.
Then your orgasm hit and it was as if your entire body was levitating, a white heat spread throughout you while you gushed around his cock, practically screaming his name while your nails dug into his back and shoulders.
He was quick to follow, a warmth spreading inside of you as his hips jerked a few times, filling you with everything he had while he moaned against your skin.
Then he pulled out of you, laying right beside you while staring up at the ceiling.
You two sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, you shifted awkwardly at the feeling of his cum running down your cunt and inner thigh, meanwhile he was trying to process what just happened.
“Uh…for the record…I don’t want to get you pregnant. It just kinda came out of me” you slowly nodded your head at his statement.
“What about the other part?” he blinked a few times before his eyes widened and he registered what he said.
“Which part?” you scoffed, now glancing over at him. “So you’re seriously gonna act stupid as if you didn’t just fuck me, then tell me you wanted to get me pregnant so I could be yours forever.”
He took a sharp inhale, grimacing slightly at your words before he finally turned to look at you.
“Is now a bad time to tell you that I’ve been a dick to you because I’ve been really jealous of Peter this entire time and was completely under the impression that you two were dating?” you stared at him with a dumbfounded expression, then you scoffed and shook your head, getting up-wincing slightly- and making your way to the en suite.
“You’re such an asshole with shit communication skills!” you shouted as you slammed the door behind you. In this moment he was glad you weren’t some kind of super soldier, otherwise the Avengers tower would’ve been down a door.
He sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his now messy hair. Then he found his clothes and slid on his briefs, pacing around the room, trying to figure out what to say to you, or how to apologize, or what to do next. It wasn’t like he could just waltz up to you and apologize.
You interrupted his pacing when you stormed out of the bathroom wearing one of his Air Force t-shirts and your panties. When did you manage to find either of those items? He had no idea. All he knew was he really liked the look on you.
Then you were grabbing your dress and heels, and for the first time in a long time, he watched you use your magic, disappearing into a cloud of red dust.
He was so fucked.
Joaquin didn’t sleep well last night, that was for certain. Half of the night was spent with him reliving the night with you. He couldn’t get his mind to focus on anything but the image of you above him and below him, the way that your hair framed your face, the way that you moaned his name-every single bit and piece of it.
Then he was tossing and turning contemplating on how to actually address the situation properly. It also didn’t help that his bed smelled just like you. It was as if he couldn’t get away from you.
Not that he wanted to ever get away from you.
In the past forty-eight hours he’d managed to realize that the entire reason you irritated every single morsel of his being was because he was jealous of your friendship with Peter Parker, he’d then been able to actually have mind blowing sex with you, then embarrass himself by letting his breeding kink slip out, and finally, get you to hate him even more.
You’ve also been avoiding him.
This was the most he’d seen you use your magic in years at this point. Usually you used it when needed on a mission, or for small miniscule tasks. You never did the whole ‘disappearing in thin air’, not until last night and today that is.
You’d done it twice already today.
He couldn’t even track you down to talk to you, and he was overly frustrated.
Joaquin found himself sitting in one of the high-tech laboratories in the tower, his arms resting against a random desk as he leaned his forehead on them. Giving himself time to wallow in self pity under the guise that he was actually doing work.
Besides, it was clear hardly anyone used these labs.
He thought he would just be alone all day, that was until the doors opened and the sound of whistling filled the room. Joaquin knew exactly who it was before even looking up.
Then a chair was pulled out near him, not too close, but not too far. It was a fair distance, and Peter was quick to clear his throat.
Joaquin slowly looked up and over at him, meanwhile Peter had his hands in his hoodie’s pocket while he looked directly at Joaquin with an expression that was the perfect mixture between disappointment and shock.
“So, I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I’ve had a girlfriend for a long time now, her names MJ, uh yeah. Bug told me what happened-well she spared me most of the details. Outside of the whole baby thing. I’m not judging though, just thought I’d come with some helpful advice”
Joaquin sighed, running a hand over his face while he looked at Peter.
“I fucked up didn’t I?” the younger man nodded. “Majorly, listen I’m not mad about the whole jealousy thing, I think I see where you’re coming from but she’s like family to me. Uh but the thing is, she thinks you hate her which is kind of the whole issue here”.
“I’ve never hated her, I think I might actually be in love with her” Peter nodded, shrugging a bit.
“Yeah I’ve been saying that for a while, kinda figured between the lovesick staring and the glaring at me anytime she laughs at anything I say. But between me and you, you still have a chance, she wouldn’t be reacting the way she is if she didn’t like you even a little bit.”
Joaquin slowly nodded, looking down at his hands for a few seconds, running his thumb over the few small scratches you left on one of them.
“Don’t try to do a grand gesture either, she hates that kind of stuff. You just gotta talk to her and actually act like a civilized adult. Don’t worry though, I’ll help you actually get her in a room”
Four hours later, you were sitting in a conference room, on top of the table, swinging your legs back and forth as you looked at the few monitors in front of you. You were focused on taking note of the different feeds, and diagnostic issues with the satellite imaging and reports.
The sound of the door opening didn’t catch your attention, you just assumed it was Peter coming back with either Yelena and Kate. He said he’d be back in fifteen minutes, it’d been around thirty.
Then again, it’s not like he’d left you with some hard task.
However, at the sight of Joaquin Torres you rolled your eyes. This had to be Peter’s idea. You couldn’t exactly up and disappear when monitoring two live feeds while actively running diagnostic scans that required specific time variations.
“Can we talk? Please?” you clenched your jaw, putting the notebook down.
“What could you possibly have to say to me? Are you here to tell me you regret fucking me too? Or just that you don’t know how to actually talk about your feelings like a grown adult, and instead opt to treat people like shit for funsies because you can’t control your own jealousy?”
He rolled his lips in, nodding his head at you. He had to admit, you were right, and there wasn’t exactly much he could do or say that would make up for how he treated you.
“I wanted to apologize, not just for the whole acting weird after we had sex, but for being an asshole to you and constantly pushing you away. I know it was stupid for me to be jealous of you and Parker, and he told me about his girlfriend, and I realized that I don’t know everything about you but I want to, everything I know about you is from eavesdropping on your conversations and based on what everyone tells me.”
He paused, running a hand through his hair “-I just want us to be more than what we were. And I’m genuinely sorry for everything, I just, I guess I thought I’d never have a chance so I pushed you away and then you constantly irritated me. Everything about you pissed me off and I think that’s also because I told myself that I would never be able to have you so it was just easier-”
You cut him off “easier to be a dickhead than to be my friend?” he nodded at that.
“But not because it was easy to be an asshole to you, but because I could never just be your friend. I’d never want to just be your friend. I think I’m in love with you, or I’m falling in love with you”
You slowly nodded your head, unsure of what to say to him. It wasn’t like you would forgive him overnight for the way he’d treated you, and having sex with someone wasn’t exactly a decent apology.
But maybe, maybe you could give him a chance.
“So you’re in love with me?” he slowly blinked, hands now on his hips while he looked at you, then around the room before awkwardly laughing.
“Uh-maybe? I don’t actually know.” your brows knit together at that.
“Okay Joaquin. Tell you what, what if we just try being friends first, and then see where that takes us? I’m not just gonna magically forgive you for being a dickhead to me all the time, but I guess Peter was right about you”
He blinked a few times, head tilted to the side slightly “what’s that supposed to mean?”
You shrugged again “he told me you were like desperately into me which is why you said you’d get me pregnant when we had sex” you said it so casually, and that had him choking on air. He shushed you immediately, looking around the room, making sure no one was outside listening in. After all, the conference room was surrounded by large glass windows.
You looked him up and down.
“Yeah, I could see myself falling for you-the real you. Not the asshole version of you” he smiled at that, biting his bottom lip slightly.
just wanna lay in joaquin’s lap while he plays with my hair after a long day and tells me what a pretty girl i am. sigh why isn’t he real 💔
ugh yeah need this so bad!!!! thank u for the thought lovely
joaquín torres x fem!reader, 0.5k words
Joaquín’s not paying much attention to the film you’ve put on.
It’s background noise to him — all his attention is on you instead. You’re lying on the couch with your head in his lap, hands criss-crossed over your stomach. Joaquín tried paying attention to the movie, he really did, but then he got distracted by the soft rise and fall of your chest, then by the TV light glowing on the slope of your nose and catching on a cluster of your eyelashes like starlight.
He gazes down at you, feeling fondness in his chest like an ache, while you watch your film, totally oblivious to his ogling. When he pushes a strand of hair from your face with his thumb, careful so as not to disturb you, you sigh a little but don’t say anything.
Joaquín tucks your hair behind your ear for you, intending to return his attention to the TV, only to get distracted again by the feeling of your hair in his fingers. He starts stroking the top of your head, running his hands through your hair, and that’s when you confront him.
“Baby,” you murmur into the quiet. You stir, and then twist so you’re looking up at him. “What’re you doing?”
Joaquín looks at you and suddenly really wants to kiss you. He decides against it, not wanting to show how absolutely smitten he is for you right now.
“Nothing,” he shrugs.
You give him a look, your brow furrowing as you squint at him, and Joaquín knows you don’t believe him without you having to say anything at all.
He folds under your gaze and laughs, a rumble in his chest.
“You look pretty,” he admits, embarrassed and fond at once. “It’s distracting.”
Your turn to laugh. You giggle like he’s said the most romantic thing ever, your shoulders creeping towards your ears.
“Shut up,” you tell him, your tone hushed like he’s embarrassed you. “Watch the movie.”
Joaquín grins so hard it almost hurts, obsessed with the way you chastise him. “Can’t I watch you instead?”
You groan and twist towards him so you can bury your face in his abdomen. You hide in his hoodie, grumbling, and Joaquín’s heart pumps in his chest like it wants out. He loves when you get flustered like this.
“Sorry, amor,” he says, smiling til his cheeks ache, and rubbing your shoulder with a warm hand. “I was only kidding. Come on, you’re missing the best part.”
As if he would know. He doesn’t even know what part the movie’s up to, couldn’t recall what happened in the last forty minutes of it, he’s been too distracted by you and he’s not gonna look away now.
You emerge from his hoodie, glaring at him with less heat than a block of ice. Joaquín rubs your shoulder some more, thumb slipping underneath your collar.
“On second thought, I think we’ll have to rewind,” he says gravely.
“Why’s that?” You ask, sounding and looking like you know what he’s about to do.
Joaquín, sick of restraining himself, curves his hand around your bicep and bends to kiss you, pressing his mouth to your soft lips. You suck a breath in, and then you’re pushing up into the kiss, your hand curving around his forearm.
The film plays on in the background, forgotten for the meantime.
sometimes you and JAKE SULLY bond just because you can. laying together, tangled limbs, breathing together. he picks up the end of his braid to offer it to you, and you do the same. watching the tendrils intertwine and fasten into a comfortable embrace. your breath is now one. you lay in each other’s atmospheres to bask in what it’s like to share this bond. thoughts are passed between you like vague emotions that bloom in your chest, the ghost of an idea you can just barely capture the smoke of. yet you can feel his heartbeat as if it’s in your own chest. he can feel the prickle of the hairs at the back of your neck where they lay on his bicep. you’ve mated before and completed tsaheylu, now you’re just experiencing it in love’s name for hours at a time. a connectedness you can’t share with anyone else.
Joaquin’s Dog-tags live rent free in my mind! Like sure I’ve seen Bucky’s before and Sam probably wears his too but seeing Joaquin’s tags bouncing around his chest instantly knocks the wind outta me!
good god imagine them when he's on a run or something. maybe the two of you are at the gym and he's on the treadmill. and the gym is quiet except for the occasional clatter of weights and the low hum of a playlist running through the speakers. you had been minding your own business, seriously! just grabbing your water bottle and cooling down—until you heard it.
that soft, rhythmic clink of metal.
your eyes flicker toward the treadmill, almost on instinct.
joaquín is mid-run, wearing one of his miami hurricanes shirts with the sleeves cut off, the kind that’s cut just right, showing off the sharp lines of his shoulders and the sculpted muscle of his arms. his tan, sun-kissed skin glistens under the fluorescent lights, sweat trailing down his collarbone before disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt.
but it’s the dog tags that have you hooked.
the way they bounce against his chest, catching the light at just the right angles, clicking against each other in a steady rhythm—shit. you don’t even realize you’re staring until you’re tracing the path from his arms to his shoulders, then down, down, down, and suddenly you’re thinking about other ways you’d like to hear those tags click.
like maybe above you. maybe dangling just over your face while he—
"you good?"
joaquín’s voice pulls you back to earth so fast it almost gives you whiplash. you blink, barely registering that he’s slowed the treadmill down to a steady walk, now turned just enough to glance at you with furrowed brows and that soft, easy concern he always carries.
you nod. too fast. too stiff. because there is absolutely no way you can trust yourself to form actual words right now.
instead, you take the safest possible escape route—tilting your head back, chugging your water, and turning away before he can see the thoughts running through your head.
A/N: I couldn’t sleep until I’d put something out so yeah, this is just a real quick short before bed kind of story. I’ll get back on my asks/wips/part 2s of stuff tomorrow. For now, enjoy this. Also sorry I haven’t done tags it’s late and I’m tired so hope this finds you fine.
You woke unable to breathe. “Ouch, Joaquin,” you grumbled as your mind and body slowly dragged itself from sleep.
“Huh?” He grumbled sleepily.
“Baby, you’re squishing me.”
“What?” he groaned, but you could tell he was only half awake.
“Roll over. You’re squishing me. And you’re making me feel like I’m sleeping with a freaking radiator. Jeez.” you moaned as he shifted slightly and you truly felt how stifling it had become under the covers.
“It’s not me. It’s you,” he sleepily grumbled. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he grumbled another response. “No.” he said with a sigh as he rolled back over onto his back on his pillow. “It was you. I know you ate my sandwich.” he mumbled.
Sandwich? What was he- ohhh, he’s sleep talking.
You chuckled to yourself as you rolled over onto your side to watch him sleep. Every now and again his lips would silently move to talk again, but it was mostly silent. You were just about to close your eyes and go back to sleep when you heard the words, “Because I’m going to marry her.”
There was a pause as if he was listening to someone else speak before he said, “What do you mean who? Y/N who else. I’ve already got the ring. I’ve been keeping it in my underwear drawer for weeks now.”
You were suddenly wide awake. You didn’t know if it was just the dream or if there was some actual truth to it and his subconscious was bleeding through. But there was one thing for sure, you weren’t going back to sleep until you knew for sure.
You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could as you crept out of bed, reaching for your phone and turning on the torch. Your feet padded quietly across the floor as Joaquin continued to let out small little murmurs. Every tiny shift you made to open the drawer sounded like thunder in your ears and you desperately hoped he wouldn’t wake up and catch you in the act. You gave one last quick tug on the old dresser drawer and there it was. Barely concealed by a pair of underpants, a square blue box.
You stood frozen in agony as you warred with yourself over what to do. Did you look and ruin the surprise completely or did you pretend you didn’t know it was there and climb back into bed. But you couldn’t help it. Now you knew of its existence, it was going to be burning a hole in the back of your head. You just wanted to be sure he picked a good ring, you tried to reason with yourself. You could be a good actress. You could still look surprised. You tried to rationalise as your fingers pulled out the velvet box. I mean he’s asleep, he’s not gonna know. You thought.
“Baby? What are you doing?” Joaquin asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. You looked at him guiltily. This was no sleep talking, he was well and truly awake now, sitting upright in bed as his eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the light of your torch in the dim room. That’s when he looked at your hands. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Baby, I- wait, how did you-“ he paused as you continued to stand at the end of the bed frozen. Then he realised. “I was sleep talking.”
“Yes.” you finally said softly.
He groaned in frustration. “My mom said I could never keep a secret. I just wished for once I could have kept this one.”
“It’s alright,” you said.
“Did you look?” he asked.
“Not yet.” you replied. Your answer brought a soft smile to his face and he silently beckoned you over to sit with him.
“You know, I was waiting to do this on that trip to New York we were gonna take in a couple of weeks.” he began to explain, “but I guess this is good too.” Although it was dark in the room, you could tell he was beginning to blush as he took the box from your fingers.
“Y/N,” he said as his fingers deftly removed the ring from the box before he set it to one side. He tucked the ring into his fingers so you couldn’t see it just yet before he shuffled closer to you to continue his speech. “I have been in love with you from the minute I laid eyes on you. You can ask any of the boys, the second I saw you I said, that’s her, that’s the girl I’m going to marry. And of course they didn’t believe me, but I knew. You’ve been there with me for everything. Every hard day. Every promotion. You were always there to be my light and cheer me on.” he said, his voice shaking slightly with nerves. “You make every single day of my life, so much brighter and I don’t ever want to think of a day when you don’t wake up by my side. Y/N, will you do me, the greatest honour of my whole life,” he said, finally holding out the ring to you. “Will you marry me?”
It may have been 4am. It may have been in the dark of the night and extremely unconventional, but it was Joaquin. And you were always going to say yes to Joaquin.
This is the first time I make a request so sorry if it's a little unclear.
Could you write a Tech x femreader where after a mission or something else (you can decide), reader is really tense at the shoulders and overall just kinda tired/stressed, so Tech offers giving her a quick massage. Maybe stablished relationship ? Better if it isn’t suggestive and just fluff.
thanks in advance if you choose to write this <3
I love this request so much, and I sincerely apologize that it took me this long to get to it. What I wouldn't give to relax with Tech. Thank you for the request, anon. (And requests are still open to all, BTW.)
Reblogs and comments mean the world! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!
Gravity
Tech x F!Reader
Warnings: Kisses, but that's basically it
Word Count: 1,035
All was quiet in the Marauder as you made your way up to the cockpit. Your ears were still ringing from the firefight your squad had barely escaped from just a few minutes ago. One of these days, you were really going to give Cid a piece of your mind… just once your head wasn’t pounding.
The consistent hum of hyperspace became louder inside the cockpit, and you slumped into the co-pilot’s seat. It was no feather mattress, but it was more comfortable than most other places on this ship. That, and the company found there could soothe you better than anyone else.
Tech took a second to adjust the controls one last time before swiveling his seat to face you. The blue glow emanating from the viewport made the lenses of his goggles almost opaque at this angle, but it couldn’t hide the way his brow furrowed as he looked you over. “Mesh’la… you look unwell.”
A heavy sigh left your chest as you brought a hand up to rub your eyes. “I’m okay. Just tired.”
He nodded as he pulled out his datapad, dropping his eyes to the screen for the moment. “That is understandable. Cid seems to have a habit of sending us on missions that are… far from relaxing.”
All you offered in response was a hum, your eyes closed as you tried to calm yourself. Maybe some of those breathing exercises you’d been learning would help. You took a deep breath, but that breath caught as your lungs expanded, exposing a pinched nerve toward the top of your spine. It took everything in you not to grumble as you rolled your shoulders carefully, trying to work at the sore spot without aggravating it too much.
There was silence beside you until you heard Tech sigh heavily. When you opened your eyes to look at him, he was putting the datapad down, a question in his gaze. Your sigh echoed his as you nodded, shifting in the seat so your back was facing him. It wasn’t often that he offered something as intimate as a massage, and you normally had to fight not to appear too eager when he did. Tonight, however, you were too exhausted to feel much about it other than relief.
Your hair was carefully swept over your left shoulder, and Tech rested his hands on your shoulders. “Where does it hurt?”
“Between my shoulders… mostly.”
His hands slid to the indicated spot, and you tried not to gasp as his fingertips gently rubbed at your skin. He had removed his gloves - you could feel it in the warmth of his touch.
“How are you holding up?” he whispered softly. “I want to know everything.”
You leaned your head back, keeping your shrug slight as not to impede his progress down your back. “It’s just… not easy. I love running around with you guys, seeing new places and helping people where we can. But every once in a while, I wish things were different.”
Tech hummed, letting his hands move up to the back of your neck. “In what way?”
“Well, for one, we wouldn’t be working for some self-obsessed sleemo who hardly pays us enough to cover one meal, let alone six.”
He laughed, but there was a resigned tone to it. “You’re not alone in that sentiment.” Tech rested his chin on your shoulder, his cheek against the side of your neck as his fingers ran up and down the opposite side. “What else?”
You opened your eyes, shifting so your cheek lightly rubbed against his hair. “I wouldn’t say no to more of this. We don’t spend enough time together where it’s just us.”
“Now that is a fact.” Tech’s breath warmed your face as he leaned around to kiss your cheek. “I will admit, there are times when we’re on a mission, and I look at you and I just…” He paused as another quiet sigh escaped him. “It’s almost impossible to describe. There’s this magnetism, this… gravity to you. If I allowed myself, I’m certain I would crash into you and never separate from you.” Tech reached around to take the armrests of your chair and turn you to face him. “Am I making any sense?”
You smiled affectionately. “Just a little.”
To your surprise, Tech’s hand slid up to your cheek, cupping your face gently. “I can offer more of an explanation, if you’d permit me.”
“It’s okay. I think I understand.”
“Do you?” He tilted his head with a small smile as his thumb traced over your cheekbone. “Enlighten me, mesh’la.”
You leaned into his touch, sighing for what had to be the hundredth time. “It’s simple. It only makes sense that you would be drawn to someone you love.”
His touch stilled, and then his hand shifted slowly, coming to rest beneath your chin and lift your face tenderly. “Cyar’ika, you truly are brilliant.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t make that connection.”
“I did, but there’s a beauty in the simplicity of your explanation.” His lips quirked into a bigger smile, a twinkle visible in his eyes through the lenses of his goggles. “As well as other aspects about you, obviously.”
You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Obviously.”
“Hush.” Tech’s fingers tightened around your chin as he pulled you closer, allowing his lips to hover over yours for a moment before fully committing to the kiss. And the sigh that escaped you this time wasn’t long-suffering or weary. It was nothing short of blissful.
After a moment, Tech pulled away just enough to whisper. “Now, my darling. You need to rest.” He smiled at your almost comically disappointed expression. “We can continue this at another time.”
“Promise?”
He placed a kiss on your left cheek. “I swear on your heart.” And then your right. “And on mine.”
You tried to pull him into another kiss, but you leaned back with a laugh when you saw his firm expression. “Fine, fine, I’m going. But I’m holding you to that promise.”
“I expect nothing less from you.” His expression softened as he watched you leave the cockpit, glad to see you leaving in better spirits than you had arrived. “Sleep well, my darling.”
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