Recently, I was standing outside my son’s classroom waiting to talk to his teacher. I stood on one side of the hallway, not even close to the center. At some point, a man came walking along. I was standing right in his path, but the hallway was empty, so I logically expected him to swerve around me. Instead he kept walking right toward me, got to me, and stopped, as if waiting for me to get out of his way. I didn’t; I just smiled politely at him. He finally walked around me, clearly annoyed that I hadn’t leapt out of his manly path.
Now I’m wishing I’d leapt aside, taken off my jacket and laid it on the floor before him, then bowed deeply and said, “My Liege!”
I also work at a college campus. I smack shoulders sometimes, but I find that if I stare straight ahead and follow the advice below, people get the heck out of the way.
Honestly this post changed how I carry myself when walking alone in public, or in a situation where I’m the one leading. People definitely move for the murder gaze.
Confirmed. I once had to rush back inside a convention hall as the con was closing in order to a retrieve a sick friend’s medication, and I didn’t understand why people in the crowd were jumping out of my way (literally—one guy vaulted a table) until I realized I was dressed as the Winter Soldier and doing the Murder Walk because that’s just how I walk in those boots. I got the meds, got out, and made a mental note.
I repeated the experiment later, wearing the boots but otherwise my usual clothing and mimicking the expression I thought I’d had at that moment. People parted like I was Charlton Heston.
I now wear that style of boots whenever possible. I recently had a man do a double-take as I walked by and ask me, politely, where I had served because I “looked like a soldier.” I’m not current or former military. I was wearing a flowy purple peasant top and looked as un-soldierlike as possible.
Moral of the story: wear comfortable shoes, square your shoulders, and walk like you’ve been sent to murder Captain America.
IT’S BACK!!!!!! I was searching for this to show my daughter the other day and couldn’t find it. I’m so glad IT’S BACK!! I will always reblog the Murder Strut!!
In case you were wondering, yes you can do this in a wheelchair. Same look in your eyes and let ‘em know you will run them down. Just picture yourself in a sports car accelerating towards someone with the intention of flattening them.
If there’s anything more satisfying than watching Abled men leap out of my way when they realize I’m not moving for them, I can’t think of it atm.
“Shut up or she’ll hear you.” “Why are you so afraid? She’s just a librarian and we’re super villains.” “Idiot she’s not a librarian. She’s The Librarian. Irritate her and she can throw you into any fictional world she’s read. And believe me, she's read a lot.”
REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way ,I love writing them all!)
🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟
You didn’t remember how you got to the couch. One minute, you were kissing in the kitchen, and the next,Danny’s strong hands were pushing you down, his body already hovering over yours, his mouth everywhere.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured between kisses, voice husky.
“Don’t you dare stop,” you breathed, tugging his shirt over his head.
His abs flexed as he straddled you, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. “Damn. Okay, bossy.”
“You love it,” you whispered, grabbing the waistband of his sweats.
He hissed between his teeth as your hand slid under. “Fuck, babe…”
Your name fell from his lips like a prayer. The pace between you two was desperate, needy, fast. You were already half-naked, thighs parted, back arching as he kissed down your chest, sucking a bruise right under your collarbone.
“Danny…”
“Say it again,” he muttered, tongue flicking over your nipple.
You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair. “Danny…Jesus”
His grin was smug. “He’s not the one making you moan like that.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“And you’re full of me in about… ten seconds,” he growled.
You giggled breathlessly. “Promise?”
He hooked your legs around his hips and grinded down against you, slow and deliberate. You let out a soft, needy sound, and his eyes rolled back for a second.
“Fuck, you’re unreal,” he whispered.
Just as he reached down, lining himself up—
BRRRRRING. BRRRRRING.
You both froze.
Danny's head dropped against your chest. “No way.”
BRRRRRING.
“Ignore it,” you groaned, pulling him back down. “Please.”
He reached for the phone just to hit Do Not Disturb,but paused.
You saw the look on his face and sat up. “Who is it?”
He turned the screen so you could see:
Mamá.
Your jaw dropped. “No way. Now?”
“She always knows,” he whispered, voice panicked. “She’s psychic.”
You tried not to laugh. “Are you seriously gonna answer?”
“She’ll think I’m dead!”
“She should hope you’re getting laid!”
He swiped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear, trying to clear his throat and talk like he wasn’t still rock hard and ready to absolutely wreck you.
“Hola, Mamá…”
You lay back, covering your face in the blanket so she wouldn’t hear you wheezing with laughter.
Danny cleared his throat again. “Sí, estoy bien… sí, comí… no, Mamá, I’m not in trouble.”
His hips were still between your legs, and you were still panting, watching his chest rise and fall. You gave him the look and slowly dragged your nails down his back.
He choked,literally choked,mid-sentence.
“Estoy bien!” he coughed, glaring at you.
You mouthed, Payback’s a bitch.
He turned slightly, as if that would help, and kept nodding. “Sí… no, no estoy solo.”
You froze.
He realized what he said too late.
There was a pause on the other end, and then:
“¿¡CON QUIÉN ESTÁS!?”
Danny flinched like he’d been slapped.
You burst into silent laughter.
“Uh,solo un,una amiga,” he stammered.
Ouch, you mouthed, pretending to clutch your heart. Friend?!
He held the phone away and whispered, “I’m so sorry. She’s gonna start asking questions.”
You licked your lips and leaned up to whisper in his ear, just loud enough.
“She doesn’t have to wonder. I can scream your name and confirm.”
His eyes widened.
You smirked and pulled him down again, hips shifting under him, just enough to make him twitch.
“Okay, Mamá,” he said shakily. “Sí, I’ll call you tomorrow. Te amo.”
He slammed the phone down.
You didn’t even finish your laugh before he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. “You’re evil.”
“I didn’t say anything,” you teased. “Just… helped paint a picture.”
Danny kissed you, deep and hot and a little pissed off.
“‘A friend’?” you teased against his lips. “That what I am?”
“You’re gonna make me say it while my mom’s voice is still echoing in my head?”
“Mmhm.”
He kissed down your throat, teeth scraping your skin. “Fine. You’re my girl. My problem. My addiction.”
You arched against him. “Keep going.”
He slid inside you with a slow, deep thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
You moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He started moving, fast, punishing, like he needed to chase away every trace of that damn phone call. Your bodies moved in sync, messy and frantic. The couch creaked. The air was thick with heat and panting and your name falling from his lips again and again.
“Look at me,” he growled. “I wanna see you when you fall apart.”
You did. And when it happened, when your body clenched around him and you gasped his name, he followed right after, burying his face in your neck with a broken groan.
The room went quiet except for your heavy breathing and a little squeak from the couch springs.
Danny collapsed on top of you, still catching his breath. “If she calls again, I’m joining the priesthood.”
You laughed breathlessly. “You’d make a terrible priest.”
“I really would. I’m too into sin.”
You turned your head to look at him. “Next time, we put the phone on airplane mode.”
“Next time,” he whispered, “I’m throwing it out the fucking window.”
Summary: Joaquin Torres x fe!Reader -> All your life you've told people you're 'fine'. So what happens when Joaquin sees through the mask?
Disclaimer: A lot of angst with a splash of fluff here and there. Dealing with feelings of guilt and high walls, Joaquin shows up for the reader, homemade meals, hurt/comfort fluff, Joaquin sees reader, happy ending.
I’m fine.
That was a sentence you were used to saying. If there was a book published after everyone had died, listing the amount of times you’d said a word or a phrase; I’m fine would be a top contender.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Well…”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, I promise,” you laugh.ed. “Honestly, it’s okay.”
“How’s your day been?”
“It’s been-”
“Well, I’m just about to…”
Fine was something you’d always been. Mostly because you had to be. You couldn’t really remember when it all started, just that it did. And now it couldn’t change. You’d tried once, not being fine. It didn’t go so well.
“How’ve you been?”
Silence. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve been good. Yeah, it’s kinda been-”
“Can I ask your advice on something real quick? It-It’ll only take like a second.”
That second took three days. And it was still a conversation talked about months later.
So, after that, you put the smile back on. You’d tried to sit up, only to slouch again a few seconds later, and you plastered on your smile. If anyone asked, you were fine. At the very least, you were a variation. Okay. Good. Well.
And them? They needed your help. Or advice. Or needed you to just listen. You needed to take in their information so they could get it off their chest and you were to keep your own to yourself. Once they’d actually asked you to.
“How was work?” They asked you as you sat down, your entire body ready to just cry itself to sleep.
“Not great.”
They shook their head and sat back. “Oh, no. Actually.” They’d heard the tone in your voice. The last time they heard that tone, it hadn’t been something great. “Can you not tell me? It’s just, I don’t like hearing about that kinda stuff.” They meant you work. So, pulling your feelings back in, you turned your head away and looked back towards the window. “But, I have a new update. So…”
Again, you’d plastered on a smile. You didn’t have the energy for the argument that would come if you shook your head and said no. You also didn’t want to be alone at that moment. So, if sitting through a variation of the same conversation you’d heard more than a thousand times was what you had to go through to avoid an argument where inevitably you’d apologise, then you’d sit through it.
Some days it felt like if someone asked more than once…maybe even pushed you for the truth, you’d collapse right there. You’d cry and tell them everything. And feel completely guilty about it afterwards. People didn’t need your troubles burdening them. People needed you. As a friend, as a shoulder to cry on, as an advice service, as a soundboard. They needed you.
Even when your voice notes went unheard, when your texts were skimmed over and left behind in favour of someone else's conversation. It was in the small hours of the night the guilt would creep up on you. What if they’d been dying to get it off their chest all day and you’d just interrupted them. Maybe they’d skipped over it, but it still interrupted them. They’d already said they didn’t want to know.
They didn’t need to know.
Because you were fine.
So, you got up. You answered the text messages, you listened to the voice notes, you found time in your busy schedule to go to lunch or grab a drink with them. And each time, you’d come back home, your words still with you.
“Alone again,” you sighed as you sank into your sofa. “Alone again.”
Sometimes, you were glad to be alone. It meant the weight on your chest was a little less full of guilt. That you’d still wanted to tell them things when you knew they didn’t really want to listen. That, deep down, you just wanted to leave and let them keep talking. It was a lot to take on sometimes. Thankfully, some days, you didn’t really notice the weight. Not until weeks later when it would crash back over you.
In your own way, you’d screamed for help before. You’d been drowning. But nobody had heard you. They’d pointed out that you weren’t you and that you needed to apologise. So you had done. If more than one person was saying it, it meant it had to be true, right?
It took a while, but you’d succeeded. You’d finally become the person they wanted again. Inside, most days, it was like being held together by glue and duct tape. You kept the mask up, for as long as you could, to give you time to replace it with stronger stuff; wood, nails, bricks, metal. If they didn’t see you still fixing it, they wouldn’t make such a big deal about it. They wouldn’t blame you for being the person you’d become who wasn’t you.
And eventually, they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the wood and metal and the mask you’d been wearing.
Everything would be normal for them. And you’d be able to still keep everything in, without the walls bending and breaking like cardboard.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Morning, Y/n.”
You looked up and smiled from your desk. “Morning, Cap.”
“Hey, Y/n.” Joaquin followed Sam.
“Morning. You guys okay?”
They both nodded. “Hill just gave us our debrief. Told us to come and find you.”
You nodded. “Yes.” From your desk, you pulled out two files and handed them over. “The mission is on a little island, just south of the European continent. We’ve had confirmation of sightings of ex-hydra agents in local areas.”
You pushed the diagram from your tablet onto the projector screen. “They have been here, here and here.” The spots formed a triangle on a nearby coast. “We also know one is confirmed to have once been affiliated with the flag-smashers.”
You gave them both the rest of the debrief. “Barton will be flying you out tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning? Why tomorrow?”
“Because our sources tell us their secret shipment isn’t going to arrive until then and if we don’t catch them with it, then there is a chance our case may not hold well enough. Hill doesn’t want to take the risk of it falling through.”
After thirty minutes, they both had everything they needed to know.
“Get your rest now, Torres. We’re gonna need it for tomorrow.”
“Aye, aye, Cap. Where you headed?”
Sam turned around as he walked out of the door. “Got a date.”
You leaned over the desk. “Bucky and your sister have a date!”
“Same thing!”
“Sam! Leave them alone!”
“Hey, they brought this on themselves. I’m just making sure nothing…untoward is gonna happen.”
You sighed. “Bucky is over a hundred years old. His flirting skills remain in the 40s.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.”
As Sam left leaving both you and Joaquin with laughing smiles on your faces, Torres turned around to you.
“You got much on tonight?”
You shrugged. “Not a lot. Why?”
“Wanted to see if you’d like to come with me later.”
“Do you need my help?”
Even for Joaquin, that question fell off your lips far too quickly.
He shook his head. “No. Just me and the others were gonna catch a film and some dinner. Wanted to see if you’d like to come?”
“Oh…” The all too familiar guilt crushed your lungs. They didn’t need your help. “No, no. It’s okay. You guys have fun, though.”
“Are you sure?”
You nodded, your smile feeling a little forced even for you. “Yes. Of course. You…go and have fun.”
“Okay. But the invitation is still there so if you change your mind…”
You nodded. “Thanks.”
Joaquin didn’t know what it was, but something made him stay right where he was. He could have left. Gone home, napped, got ready to go out. But something made him stay.
“Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
He shrugged a little. “It’s nothing. Just…have you been sleeping?”
“Have I…” His question took you by surprise. “Y..yes. I’m sleeping.”
“Properly? Like…eight hours, REM sleep, all that jazz?”
You tilted your head a little, looking at him as if he had just grown a second head. “Not…not all the time, but that’s mostly down to my neighbours. Is there something you want to tell me? Are you okay?”
Joaquin nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. But you’re sure you’re okay?”
You nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Okay. Alright then.”
“Alright.”
“See you later?”
You nodded. “Maybe.”
He didn’t see you later. But by the looks of it, he had a good time anyway. Kate’s instagram story showed you as much. But he did see you the day after. You were there, readying the jet and some of the equipment before him and Sam were about to jet off.
“Keep your earpiece in-”
“At all times. I know.” Joaquin and Sam repeated after you.
“I’ll be tracking you guys every step of the way. If you need my help, just call out. I’ll be able to hear you. And remember, we need confirmation of the shipment before you start bringing people in.”
“Got it.”
“Good luck, guys.”
“Thanks, Y/n.”
Almost twenty four hours later, they were back along with confirmation of the shipments and a dozen people in custody.
Thankfully, the paperwork after it kept you busy for a couple of weeks. For as much as you wanted to say yes each time you were asked to attend something, the paperwork gave you a real excuse so they didn’t think you were avoiding them. Because you would have loved to have said yes. But after years and years of only ever being needed, it was hard to grasp the concept of being wanted. Which part of you still didn’t believe.
But, as the months and missions went on, things started to slip. Not by much but you could feel it. Yet, somehow, the mask managed to stay up.
Unknown to you, however, Joaquin saw right through it. He saw through it all. The masks, the reassurance, the mystery. He knew you cared. A lot. People always knew they could go to you. They always did. Joaquin also knew Sam had tried to talk to you a few times.
He’d seen something in you. Something that he saw in a lot of people he’d helped. But after his third attempt, he decided to let you come to him when you were ready.
“You know, if you ever want to talk-”
You smiled, laying a hand on his upper arm as you passed him. “Sam. I promise you, I’m okay. If I ever need someone to talk to, I’ll come to you. But, seriously, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m okay. I promise.”
Joaquin, however, wasn’t as patient. Maybe with everyone else, he could be. But not with you.
Not when he was visibly seeing the changes in you that you were somehow managing to hide from everyone.
It had started with the first sleepless night you’d all seen for the first time in a while. A level seven threat just on the outskirts of the city. Almost everyone was called in to help. It had been a lot. You’d been put through a lot.
Despite working mostly on the tech side of things, you were still a fully qualified field agent.
When everything had finally died down and people could head home before the six o’clock news briefing later that day, you’d stayed awake. You’d combed through everything you could, you’d brought up every piece of CCTV footage, you’d gone through every statement you could in order to piece together a coherent explanation that wouldn’t scare the rest of the country into a coma.
“Have you even gone home?” Joaquin asked you just as the clock turned to read 21:03.
You swivelled in your chair, a little quieter than usual. “Not yet.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
That was the first time you hadn’t fought someone who was trying to help you. Joaquin drove you home and when you got inside, your phone started ringing. And you just let it ring, and ring and ring. For a moment, your heart held out hope. Maybe your friend was calling in to check on you. But from the texts that followed…they weren’t.
You’ll never guess what’s just happened…
Over the next six weeks, Joaquin saw the changes. They were subtle. He had to hand it to you. You were clever at hiding it.
“From the amount of coffee you’d been drinking, you shouldn’t still be yawning.”
You chuckled. “Must be decaf.”
There was a drop in your expression from the happy smile it had held a few seconds earlier. Then it was quickly replaced with a defeated, yet somehow accepted, expression. Whoever you were texting, you were happy to help. But wishful of something else nonetheless.
Then he saw it in the way he made you jump. Or how anyone made you jump.
It was rare someone ever managed to scare you. You were observant. Saw things way before other people did. So when he walked up to your desk, with you facing him, and he saw you jump when you finally looked up, something else flicked inside of him.
It was like each individual light switch was slowly turning on one by one each time he saw you. You were tired. It wasn’t decaf because he saw you pour directly from the pot of regular he’d just made. The hopeful then saddened expressions when looking at your phone. The distant look in your eyes. He didn’t know where you’d go, but sometimes you’d just completely disappear. The tired pull of your body into and out of work. The declined invitations. The reassurance that they wouldn’t want you there. The true acceptance of your own statement, no matter how many times he’d tell you it was wrong. The glassy look in your eyes when someone asked for a second time if you were okay. The even brighter glassy look in your eyes when your friend surprised you at work and ate lunch with you.
She’d asked you how you were and you’d told her some things. It hadn’t been much. Just paperwork and research. She’d asked questions to know more, but before you could get to any kind of topic that didn’t come with a generic answer, she’d moved on. Brushed it off and the brief thankful look in your eyes that you’d finally be able to tell someone something was gone.
He’d watched you help others, talk to them, be their soundboard, look out for them, take their comments that even you had noticed had been a subtle dig at you. So, when the day came that you stepped away for a small break, Joaquin went in search of you.
You were ten seconds away from crying for eight hours straight. You were exhausted. Anytime anyone said anything to you, nothing seemed to register. You could hear the voice in the back of your mind of people telling you that you needed to apologise. But that just frustrated you more because you didn’t know who to and for what. Just that you needed to. You’d been trying to sleep at night and you knew others could see it. You were just grateful that they accepted you had noisy neighbours. Only, in the three years that you had new neighbours, they’d never once woken you up.
The image of the unplayed voice notes kept flashing through your head. But they needed you. They needed someone to vent to, or someone to get advice from, or someone to brag to. They didn’t like doing the same, but it was okay. It had to be okay.
Some people could have full lives, but lonely existences? You had friends, you had family. There shouldn’t be any reason why you should feel like this. Maybe that’s what you had to apologise for? They knew you were grateful for their help when it was given. And, despite the times their promise you could always come to them felt empty, they knew you were grateful for their offer, right?
A knock came to the single bathroom door. “Y/n? You okay in-”
“I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second,” you called out from inside. Your eyes shut tight and your fist was against your forehead. Quickly, you turned around and ran the tap, splashing your face a few times, trying to ignore the dizziness inside your head.
“Hey, I was getting worried-”
Joaquin saw your legs buckle just before you caught yourself on the frame of the door. “S-Sorry. Lost my footing. I just needed a second to-”
From your grip on the door and the tremble in your legs, you were finding the energy to move forwards without completely falling over. Then he saw your face. The tired eyes, the wetness to your lashes, the tear stains at the bottom of your cheek.
Then it was the shaking in your fingers as you lifted your hand for a moment but quickly replaced it. Your chest was moving at an uneven rate and finally, your hand slipped.
“Whoa, hey, okay, okay. Come with me.”
With one arm around your back, Joaquin helped carry you over to a nearby chair before he crouched down in front of you. “Hey, look at me. How are you feeling?”
“I…I’ll be fine.”
Your eyes were still closed but Joaquin shook his head. “Okay, no. I’m taking you home.”
“Honestly-”
“No buts. I’m taking you home. When was the last time you got any decent sleep?”
You were trying to think of when but just as you did, you were finding it difficult to find the words. The voice in your head was too loud; you’re fine, you’ll get better, this shouldn’t be happening, get over yourself, people have it worse, others need your help, others need his help.
“I-I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. You-you should go. I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll call a cab-”
“Don’t try and fight me on it. I’m going with you.”
If you had the breath or the energy to, you would have done. But you didn’t. So, two hours later you were freshly showered with your hair washed since the smell of anti-bac from the doctor Joaquin had called had been knocking you even more dizzy and nauseous.
It had surprised you when you’d come out of your bathroom to find warm and fresh clothes laid out on your bed. A pair of shorts and a t-shirt – fresh from the dryer, despite you having picked them out of your dresser before you went for a shower. And a sweater. It wasn’t yours. But the familiar warm scent of it let you know it was Joaquin’s.
Put it on to keep you warm
You did as the note said and by the time you pulled it over your head, another smell drifted through your home. Downstairs, you found Joaquin cooking.
“You really don’t have to stay-”
“I’m staying. You’re run down and you need someone to look after you.”
“I’ll be okay. I’ve looked after myself before-”
“And now you don’t need to.”
“Joaquin.”
He just stopped and looked at you. “You do everything for everyone else. And in the last six weeks alone you’ve done that on minimal sleep. You need someone to take care of you, and I want to. You can keep fighting me on it, but I’m staying. And before you say anything – you do not need to apologise. Not to me, not to anyone else. People get sick and people let others take care of them, it’s just how it works.”
That had been the sixth time he’d told you you didn’t need to apologise. So, to avoid saying it again, you changed the subject.
“What are you making?”
You came to find out Joaquin had ran down to the corner store whilst your clothes were warming in the dryer. He’d made you one of his family’s recipes. A full meal – one that his mother swore could cure everything. A bad tummy, a bad day, a broken heart. It was a cure to everything.
“Thank you.”
Joaquin smiled and for the most part, you both ate in silence. But you could feel his eyes on you. Watching your movements, probably noticing the slight shakiness still in your hands.
“I’m gonna stay the night.”
“You really don’t have to-”
“I want to know. See it with my own eyes that you’re sleeping.”
“You do realise how creepy that sounds right?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, that does kinda sound- you know what I mean. I want to know if you've actually had a decent night's sleep.”
“I’ve only got the one bed at the minute-”
“I can take a couch-”
“Or you could stay with me.”
A slightly awkward silence replaced the once slightly comfortable one.
“Sorry. I…you probably…I should have- I’m sor-”
“Do you want me to stay with you?” The look on Joaquin’s face was nothing but complete softness. There was no harsh judgement in his eyes or his voice. There was no mockery or fakeness. It was nothing but just pure…
Care.
And somewhere between the awkward silence and the caring gaze, your voice answered before your brain even had a chance to drag you back under the water and raise the mask.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Okay. Such a tiny word with such a heavy meaning.
Ninety minutes, a full meal that hadn’t been microwaved, a loaded dishwasher and two sitcom episodes later, you were brushing your teeth before finally getting into bed.
Joaquin lay beside you. At first he’d offered to remain on the outside of the covers. But you didn’t want him to get cold. So, with a quiet smile, he’d pulled the other side of the covers back. Your phone had started blowing up with different text messages from different people but one in particular was more incessant than the rest.
And once Joaquin knew the texts weren’t important – mostly from your reaction after you’d read them as they came up as notifications, he’d taken your phone from you and turned it off completely.
It was the first time he’d seen you relax in ages.
Not by much, but it was a start. Besides, if there was a real emergency, they’d call him, too. Not that he’d let you anywhere near work for the next few days at the very least. You needed a break.
Finally, you got into bed and felt your body, despite how stiff it felt, relax into the mattress.
“I don’t know if I can fall asleep.”
Joaquin didn’t say anything. All he did was move a little closer to you before taking your hand in his and resting two of your fingers against his wrist.
“Count my pulse.”
“Does that work?”
Joaquin nodded. “Whenever I was on deployment and couldn’t sleep, this is what I would do.”
You took his word for it. And for the first time in almost six weeks, you fell asleep long before the clocks touched midnight. And somewhere in the night, your fingers had gone from holding his wrist, to his hand to suddenly being held completely by him.
When you finally woke up in the morning, the day before was slow to come back to you. The panic, the dizziness, the sickness, Joaquin, the doctor, the sweater, the meal, and…the pulse. You felt warm. And when you finally opened your eyes, you found yourself tangled with the very man who had helped you.
The very man who had stayed.
And for a short moment, you closed your eyes and leaned into him again. And, almost as if he did it all the time, Joaquin’s arms held you closer before you felt his lips brush the top of your head. And you both stayed like that for a long time. You were certain you’d fallen asleep again.
But Joaquin stayed. He didn’t try to move, he didn’t attempt to leave or wake you up.
He stayed and held you.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Better than I have done in a while.”
Lifting his hand, he carefully brushed the stray hairs from the front of your face to behind your ear. “Good.” Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead. “Good.”
After a few beats of silence, you spoke again. “I know you told me not to fight you on it-”
“Y/n.”
You held onto his arm as you looked up at him. “No, no. I’m not gonna…I just wanted to say thank you.”
Joaquin was quiet as he looked at you, studied you. “You’re welcome, but you never have to thank me for staying.”
“Not many people have. Not many people noticed I needed someone to stay.” The true answer was that before Joaquin, nobody had stayed. But that seemed too sad to say out loud. And you had a feeling he already knew the true answer.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay-” It was almost like the tears before the tears. That feeling of your chest catching onto itself and the rush of blood to your heart to try and keep it at a normal pace.
Joaquin shook his head. “No, it’s not. You’ve done everything for everyone. They should have noticed. And I’m sorry for not noticing sooner.”
You just shook your head lightly, “It’s not your fault. I kept it hidden.”
“Why did you?”
You swallowed, looking down at his chest, your fingers tracing the letters on his t-shirt. “S’ easier, I guess. You get so used to being jumped over that eventually you stop being a hurdle.”
You could feel Joaquin’s hands on your back, his thumbs slowly tracing back and forth.
“I have tried…before. I’ve tried talking to people, telling them about my day but then they’ve asked me to not tell them. Sometimes they’ll say they can’t handle it and that’s not their fault. So, I’ve kept it all to myself. And I know I can handle a lot. It’s not like other people’s problems are as big as what I’ve faced at work…it kinda just adds up. And I don’t know what to do after that.”
You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.
“I know Sam’s asked me a few times to talk to him but I can’t seem to shake the guilt. He spends his entire time helping the world. You, too. I should be able to handle…all this. I know I’m only human but it just feels like…it feels like I’ve gotten this far. Why can’t I keep going?”
Joaquin was quiet when he spoke to you, his voice soft and without abruptness or judgement.
“Because even the strongest humans need a break.” Joaquin pulled you a little closer to him. “You are extraordinary, and you’ve been there for everyone who has ever needed you. But you also need to take time for yourself. Your job is stressful enough without adding everyone else’s problems on top. And the fact that people have told not to talk…I am begging you, Y/n. Talk. Tell someone what’s going on. Talk to Sam, talk to me. I want to hear you. The good, the bad, the ugly, all of it.”
For the first time, not only were you hearing someone say those words, but you were also hearing them mean it.
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
Looking at him, you felt the tears come forward. And for the first time you didn’t fight them. Leaning up, you held onto Joaquin and he held you right back, tight to his chest.
Joaquin felt the panic pass through you and eventually leave, he felt the tears falling onto his shirt and he just held you closer. You both knew you wouldn’t be ‘fixed’ at the end of the day, but that was something that helped.
You’d felt yourself break once before and your family had noticed, but from their words and their hugs and their actions when you finally moved again, they expected you to be right back to normal. So you’d put the mask back on.
But not now.
You didn’t have to.
And for as scary as that was, it was also freeing.
You and Joaquin talked some more after the tears had slowed and a silence had passed. And then he listened some more over breakfast. Eventually, he decided to stay a while longer.
A week later, you finally got back into work. You had said you wanted to go back after three days but Joaquin had nearly tackled you back from the door.
The first person you went to see was Sam.
It was a long conversation but not a single ounce of it was judgemental. No words out of his mouth were telling you that you needed to apologise or that you needed to go back to ‘normal’. With a gentle hand on your back, he handed you a phone number of one of the veterans he used to help. They were now a licensed counsellor and therapist.
“...and if you ever want to talk to someone who doesn’t know you, give ‘em a call. Sometimes it can be easier talking to a stranger.”
“Thank you, Sam.”
It was a process. Talking, dealing with the guilt, learning when to walk away. But it was helpful. Eventually your anxiety stopped spiking as high each time the phone rang, or it flashed with a notification. You didn’t feel like you needed to go someplace because someone needed you to.
It was nice to feel wanted.
“You okay?”
You looked up over the desk at Joaquin. Sam had left the room a few seconds ago, both of you shouting at him to leave Bucky and Sarah alone. He’d been caught stalking them at the grocery store the last time. But, like usual, he ignored you both.
You smiled with a short nod. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“You mean it?”
The true smile remained on your face. “Yeah, I mean it.”
In the last few months, you’d come to find you couldn’t hide anything from Joaquin. Even if you lied, he’d know the truth. And he’d stop at nothing until you’d finally tell him as much.
But you weren’t lying. You were really okay.
“Wanna join me after work?”
“Where are you headed?”
“The Park. They’re showing a movie tonight. Thought you might wanna come with me.”
“Is anyone else going?”
Joaquin paused. “Not exactly.”
You just looked at him confused.
“Kate’s probably gonna already be there and some of the others but I’m asking because I thought we could go…together.”
“Together?”
Joaquin nodded. “Kinda like a date. Or not a date, if you don’t want it to be. But it could be. Again, if you don’t want-”
You smiled, a little amused at his nervousness. The Falcon – a Captain in the Air Force and one of Captain America’s closest allies – Joaquin Torres rarely ever seemed nervous. But you found it cute.
“I don’t mind it being a date.”
He looked up, a little like a deer caught in headlights. “You don’t?”
You shook your head. “I don’t.”
“So, it’s a date?” Joaquin smiled.
You nodded with a smile of your own. “It’s a date.”
“Great.” Joaquin was trying his best to not let his excitement jump out of his skin. “I will pick you up at six.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Joaquin was walking out the door backwards, his eyes still on you. Which meant he crashed into the wall before looking behind him to step out of the door. You giggled a little, watching the embarrassment flood on his cheeks as he apologised to the wall before he disappeared down the hallway.
And just as he had said, he knocked on your apartment door at six o’clock. You were just in casual clothes but he looked at you as if you were some kind of model.
“You look beautiful.”
You felt yourself blush. “Thanks.”
“Ready to go?”
“Yep.”
Without a second thought, he took your hand in his as you headed down the hallway and into the elevator. And where it should have been awkward silence, it wasn’t. Because you talked.
By the time you both got to the park, you were in a fit of laughter. You and Joaquin had found a spot just in front of a tree to lean against before you helped him flatten out the picnic blanket he’d brought with him.
“My lady,” he presented you with the blanket fresh on the floor.
“Why, thank you, kind Sir.”
And the movie played.
By the time the credits rolled, you were slowly falling asleep on his shoulder. And by the time you’d both made it back to your apartment, collapsing on the sofa, you’d both fallen asleep together watching an old re-run.
Maybe people hadn’t stayed before. Maybe people hadn’t listened before.
i see alot of sushine x grumpy reader when ppl r writing joaquin fics but pls i need more sunshine x sunshine and its joaquin and reader being literal comedic geniuses on missions and flirting over comms 😫
"Ray Of Sunshine"
[Joaquin Torres x fem!reader]
Masterlist
Summary: You and Joaquin are pains in Sam and Bucky's ass.
Warnings: Mild action violence, relentless flirting, and Sam Wilson contemplating a career change
Word Count: 831 words
A/N: I think we can all agree that bucky and sam are officially parents.
"We should get a team dog," you said, thinking out loud.
Three voices answered you at once through the comms. Two were a chorus of "NO!" The other, "YES!" You decided to focus on the latter.
"A small golden one…" you continued, ducking behind a concrete pillar as gunfire sprayed the warehouse wall behind you.
"We could name it Ray," Joaquin suggested. You could hear his grin.
"Ooh, like a Ray of sunshine!"
Sam's groan was so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of Bucky vaulting over a shipping container to your left. "Focus, both of you," Sam barked, his wings slicing through the air as he disarmed a guard. "We're in the middle of a mission!"
"And we are not getting a dog," Bucky added, firing at a henchman sprinting toward you.
"But imagine the morale boost!" you argued, popping up to toss a smoke grenade. The room flooded with gray haze, and you darted toward the server room, Joaquin's laughter in your ear.
"Picture it, Buck—little Ray, tiny vest, teeny goggles," Joaquin said. You could practically see him miming the dog's outfit with his hands, even though he was three rooms away, hacking into the security system. "He'd be the best at fetch. And espionage."
"Espionage?!" Bucky snapped. A grunt, a thud—probably him body-slamming someone into a wall. "It's a dog."
"Exactly! No one suspects the dog!" you chirped, sliding into the server room and slamming the door shut. You yanked off your glove to press your palm to the biometric scanner. "Quin, how's that hack coming?"
"Less flirting, more focusing," Sam cut in. The Captain America voice dialled up to 'I'm two seconds from drowning you both in a lake.' "Torres, any alarms?"
"Nope. Smooth as butter. Also, you do love me, right sunshine?" He didn't need to ask, he already knew the answer.
You rolled your eyes, typing rapidly on the server's interface. "Keep dreaming, flyboy."
"Oh, I will. Vividly. With plot."
Bucky made a sound like a feral cat. "I'm begging you two to take this seriously."
"We are!" you and Joaquin said in unison, then burst into laughter.
The two of you had turned into an art form really: you'd crack a joke, he'd retort back, and somewhere between the banter and the bullets, the bad guys ended up in a pile, thoroughly confused about how they'd been beaten by a duo who argued about pizza toppings during a car chase.
"Got the files!" you announced, yanking the hard drive free.
"Great! Now get out before backup shows up," Joaquin said. "Also, duck."
You dropped to the floor just as a guard burst through the door, his weapon whirring over your head. Joaquin's voice turned sharp, all playfulness gone. "Three o'clock. Disarm and go."
You spun, sweeping the guard's legs out from under him and snatching his gun. "Thanks."
"Anytime. Now when do we get this dog?"
"NO DOG!" Sam and Bucky shouted in unison.
The second you spotted the scruffy golden retriever trotting through the lot on the way back to the quinjet, you froze. "Uh. Joaquin. Look."
He looked over to where you were pointing. "Is that…?"
"A literal ray of sunshine," you whispered, clutching your chest. The dog wagged its tail.
"No," Sam hissed.
"Yes," you and Joaquin breathed.
"Not a chance!" Bucky said.
But the dog padded toward you, cocking its head, and dropped a muddy stick at your boots. You gasped. "It's fate."
"Sam. SAM. They're adopting a street dog," Bucky deadpanned. "This is your problem now."
Joaquin scooped the retriever into his arms. "C'mon, Cap! Look at…his eyes. He's got the heart of a soldier!"
"Leave. The. Dog." Sam said.
"Too late!" she said cheerfully. "Ray's one of us now!"
By the time they got back to the quinjet, with the dog, Sam's eye twitch had reached apocalyptic levels. Bucky stared at the retriever, now sitting happily on your lap, and muttered, "If it pees on my gear, I'm shaving it bald."
Joaquin bounded down the jet's ramp, helmet off and hair adorably windblown. "He’s so cute, look at him!"
"He looks like a menace," Sam said, though the corner of his mouth quirked up as the dog lolled its tongue at him.
You scratched Ray's ears, batting your lashes at Sam. "C'mon, Cap. Every team needs a mascot. We'll train him! He can fetch grenades!"
"He'll fetch lawsuits," Bucky grumbled.
Joaquin plopped beside you, shoulder brushing yours. "Admit it. You love him."
Sam looked at the dog. At Bucky. At the two of you, grinning like idiots.
"...He's not getting a rank."
You and Joaquin whooped, high-fiving as Ray barked as if in victory.
"But he is writing the mission report," Bucky added, his amusement showing.
left: the Nebra sky disc, circa 1600 BCE, showing the Moon, Sun, and stars in gold on copper - the oldest depiction of the cosmos in the world
right: the Webb Space Telescope, July 2022, revealing thousands of baby galaxies forming in the early days of the universe - humankind’s deepest look into the sky
