Summary: You ask your roommate Joaquin for a favor—but when he finds your little secret friend, he decides to return the favor. Just you, him, and your favorite toy… turning a shitty night around.
Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), masturbation, oral sex (f and m receiving), use of vibrator, light restraint, overstimulation, mirror sex, soft aftercare, established sexual tension, strong language.
Word Count: 3.6K
A/N: I got inspired because I saw a clip from the movie heart eyes of the female character throwing her vibrator in the closet. I haven't scene this movie but I saw a second of that scene and I was already typing this fic. Enjoy!
Read part 2 here
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“You have a date?” Joaquin leans against the laundry room doorway, sipping a beer, wearing his football jersey and a backwards hat. His favorite team must be playing tonight.
“Yeah,” I say, pushing my bulky comforter into the dryer. “Dean’s in town for a few days.”
“Ah, the Navy pilot.” Joaquin rolls his eyes and steps aside, letting me pass him in the hallway of our shared apartment.
“How do I look? You think this is too much?” I ask, standing in the middle of the hallway. I smooth the hem of the new dress I bought earlier this week—a midnight blue mini that hits mid-thigh, with long sleeves hugging my arms and a square neckline dipping low enough to push my boobs up just a bit. The dress is flirty—the perfect thing to do what I want it to do tonight: get Dean and his marvelous self into my bed after months apart.
I really like Dean. He’s charming, smart, always takes charge when it comes to planning our dates and those spontaneous little trips to another state—usually to one of his family’s vacation homes. It’s been over a year since we started dating, but his Navy schedule was hard to get used to at first.
Joaquin clenches his jaw, scanning me from head to toe. “You look way out of Dean’s league.” He pushes my shoulder playfully and heads toward his bedroom. I follow, my strappy heels clicking against the floor, making me feel taller—sexier.
“Can you be the best roommate ever and make sure my comforter dries, then take it out of the dryer?” Joaquin sits on the edge of his dark blue comforter, and I stand close, looking down at him with my hands on my waist.
I notice him staring, his eyes focused on my cleavage.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning on bringing Dean over,” he groans, throwing himself back onto the bed dramatically. “Doesn’t he have a hotel room he can take you to instead?”
“Can you just do it, please? For me?” I pout, sitting beside him. The dress rides up a little as I do. “I’ll make you lunch for work for a whole week if you help me out.”
He looks at me, debating if it’s worth his time. “Fine. But it better be your carne guisada with white rice,” he grumbles, sighing. I pat his thigh and stand up, feet firm on the wooden floor of his bedroom.
“It’s a deal.” I head to the doorway but pause in the frame and look over my shoulder. His eyes dart from my ass to my eyes quickly, thinking I didn’t notice him checking me out. “I’ll text you when I’m like ten minutes out. Wear your noise-cancelling headphones.” I wink at him and walk toward my bedroom to grab my bag.
I hear my phone ping and suspect it’s a text from Dean telling me he’s outside. I spray a little perfume and make sure my hair isn’t a mess from wrestling with the comforter earlier. I leave my bedroom door wide open and head toward the stairs. I shout back to Joaquin, telling him I’m leaving, and open the door expecting Dean waiting for me by the car—but he waves from inside the car instead.
That’s weird. He always waits for me outside his door and helps me into his expensive car. I shrug it off, locking the door behind me and pushing the thought to the back of my head.
The restaurant Dean chooses is nice. It usually is. Dean always picks somewhere new—somewhere a little over my budget—but he always insists on paying, and I don’t argue with a man who likes to treat his date.
“Do you like the wine I picked out?” Dean asks. He picked it for me, like he usually does.
“I do. It’s soft for a red,” I say, though I’m usually more of a white wine girl. He nods, taking a sip of his own drink. My phone lights up on the table and I glance down at the screen—Joaquin. Dean’s eyes catch the notification and I quickly turn it off before he starts with his insecurities about my boy roommate.
“Congrats on making Lieutenant, by the way. How do you feel?” I ask, trying to shift the conversation.
“Not a big deal. I already knew it was happening,” Dean says with a shrug, eyes skimming the menu, uninterested in keeping the conversation.
My brows knit together. Dean’s been acting off since picking me up. Usually, he waits by the passenger door and opens it for me, but this time he just sat in the car. When we got to the restaurant, he didn’t grab my hand to lead me to our table like he usually would. And he hasn’t said anything about my dress—he always has something to say.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it. “Oh.” That’s all I can say. My eyes fall to the menu in my hands, scanning the main courses even though I’ve lost my appetite. Maybe he’s just hungry. He did just arrive from the airport a few hours ago.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Dean says, reaching across the table to gently push my menu down so I’ll look at him.
“About what?” I tilt my head, leaning in.
“You’re amazing and gorgeous—I mean, look at you tonight.” He smiles, taking my hands into his. “This past year has been fun, but I’m ready to settle down somewhere. Start actually building the life I want.”
“Dean...” I blink, stunned. I wasn’t expecting this tonight, not even this year. We’ve talked about marriage, family, and the future before—but this feels so sudden.
“I’m engaged,” he says, still smiling. The words make my stomach drop. “I proposed a few weeks ago in the Hamptons. I’ve been meaning to break things off with you, but I didn’t want to do it over text or a phone call. You don’t deserve that.”
He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. I yank it away immediately.
“So calling me earlier this week and inviting me to dinner to tell me you got engaged to someone else was your idea of what I deserve?” I raise my voice, and a few heads turn our way.
“Can you lower your voice, please?” he whispers, glancing around.
“Oh, you don’t want the whole restaurant to hear me call you a fucking dick for dumping me after leading me on for a whole year—all while you were with someone else?” I shoot up to my feet, my chair screeching against the expensive marble floors. I grab the wine glass by the stem and toss the deep red liquid onto his pristine, expensive shirt. “Your wine selection sucks, by the way.”
Dean gasps, scrambling to stand. “You’re a crazy bitch! This is Armani!” His eyes bulge like I’m the insane one here.
“It’s worthless now—just like you, asshole,” I snap, spinning on my heels and marching out. The restaurant falls into stunned silence behind me. The hostess by the door hangs with her mouth agape while the room starts to murmur.
Fuming, I stomp down the sidewalk, heels clicking hard against the pavement. I walk a few blocks away before ordering an Uber—I refuse to be anywhere near that restaurant when Dean leaves. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a last word after what he pulled.
I’m not even heartbroken. I’m just fucking pissed. This man has been seeing someone else all this time, lying to me. Telling me about our future plans. Maybe all this time, this was his plan with me.
When the sweet woman Uber driver drops me off at home, I storm up the small stairs on the porch and unlock the front door. I slam it behind me and toss my bag onto the little entry table. I don’t even bother texting Joaquin that I’m home early. I head straight for the kitchen and grab the sealed bottle of white wine Joaquin bought me a few days ago.
Screw the glass—I take a long sip straight from the bottle. Then I head upstairs, passing Joaquin’s closed door, and go straight to mine. I leave the door open and throw myself face-first onto my bed. The comforter is laid out—nicely. Not the way I would’ve done it, but the effort is there.
At least I can count on my roommate for something.
God, this is not how I imagined tonight going. How pathetic.
Still wearing my dress and heels, I lay back and sip the wine again, trying to erase the whole disaster from my mind.
A soft knock at my open door pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up, propping myself on my elbows, and meet Joaquin’s eyes. He looks at me first—his gaze lingers at my chest before flicking to the bottle in my hand.
“You okay? Did something happen?” he asks. He doesn’t step inside, but the concern in his voice is clear.
I let out a laugh—a small one at first, then louder, almost unhinged. “Dean’s fucking engaged,” I finally manage between fits of laughter.
“Engaged?” Joaquin’s face contorts in confusion, mirroring my own earlier.
“He took me on a date to break up with me because he got engaged a few weeks ago,” I explain, taking another sip.
“What a fucking asshole,” Joaquin mutters, shaking his head. “I never liked him anyway—he was always too cocky.”
“You never like the guys I bring home,” I say, smirking despite everything. “But hey, if you see a video floating around of someone tossing a glass of red wine at a guy in a restaurant with marble floors? That’s me.”
“Good for you. I’m proud.” He chuckles, leaning against my door, still watching me.
“I’m just going to take this amazing dress off, take a shower, burn it, and call it a night.” I rest the wine on my nightstand but don’t get up yet. “Thanks for taking this out of the dryer,” I say, smoothing the comforter.
“You know, you should be careful with what you throw in with your comforter,” he says, a small smirk on his lips. I scrunch my nose, confused. Joaquin doesn’t move, but he pulls out my light blue bullet vibrator from behind his back. “I was about to throw the comforter on your bed when this little guy fell before my feet.”
My eyes go wide and I jump toward him to take it, but he grabs my wrist and hides it out of reach. “Joaquin, come on. I’ve already been embarrassed once tonight.” I try to break free from his grip, but my eyes land on his—dark and filled with something I’ve only seen once before.
My insides flip. The heat of his chest against mine makes my nipples harden beneath the lacy material under my dress.
“I don’t want to make fun of you, I promise.” He leans down, close enough for me to feel his rapid breathing. Jesus. I swallow the whimper in my throat as he pushes me against the door. “You don’t have to spend the rest of the night alone with your toy.” His lips brush my jawline, and I arch my back, bumping my hips into his.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I whisper, my voice small. He shoves the bullet into his pocket, pulls my face close with both hands, and crashes his lips onto mine. I moan into his mouth, my hands sneaking up to his waist and under his shirt, running along the muscles of his toned back.
He pulls me off the door and leads me to my bed without breaking the kiss, his tongue meeting mine. His hand lands on the back of my neck, deepening the kiss even further. The back of my knees hit the mattress, and we fall to the bed. He uses one hand to hold himself up while the other glides over my smooth calves and up the side of my thighs.
I lift my hips, my dress riding up as I grind against his now growing bulge. “Joaquin,” I breathe out. His lips pull away from mine, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. He bites and licks the swell of my breasts, tugging the material of my dress down to expose my breasts.
I’m grateful I matched my lingerie tonight.
Joaquin bites the lacy material and pulls it aside, freeing my nipple to the cold air. He licks the stiff peak with one slow stroke before pulling it into his mouth. He twirls his tongue around it, sucking hard before releasing it with a pop, then blows cool air over it, smirking as I squirm beneath him. He lifts himself up, kneeling on the mattress. He removes his shirt over his head, and I stare at his perfectly tanned, muscled torso.
I look at him and lick my lips, drinking him in—his lips red and swollen, pupils blown wide, and his cock straining against his grey sweatpants.
Fuck, why haven’t we done this before?
Joaquin grabs my waist and flips me, stomach down onto the mattress. I brace myself on my forearms and arch my back, pressing my ass up for him to use me however he wanted. His fingers trace a slow path along the backs of my thighs as he keeps me spread open with one leg. I glance over my shoulder the moment I hear a low buzz. I bite my lip, watching him trail the cool vibrating bullet over the same path as his fingers. I gasp as he presses it to my lace-covered clit, trying to grind against it, but he holds me still with a firm hand on my hip.
“You’re under my care, baby. Let me praise you.”
Joaquin hovers over my trembling body. The hand on my hip moves to the zipper on the back of my dress. His lips brush behind my ear, pressing wet, sloppy kisses as the zipper slides down with torturous slowness.
He keeps the bullet on the lowest setting, circling my soaked clit slowly, teasingly. He removes the vibrator and peels the dress from my body, tossing it aside. The fabric brushes my sensitive nipples, and I whimper, aching for his touch—but his hands are nowhere on me.
“Patience,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips trailing down my spine. He lowers himself to my core, squeezing my ass cheeks as his nose brushes the lacy fabric covering my wet heat. Joaquin presses his nose against me, inhaling deeply. I fist the pillows, barely holding myself together.
“You smell divine,” he growls, hooking a finger into my lingerie and sliding it down. Cool air hits my exposed sex. Before I can catch my breath, his lips crash into my folds. He spreads me wider, eating me from behind. I moan loudly, my eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as his tongue sucks my clit, then teases my soaked entrance, pushing inside me.
He turns the vibrator back on and presses it to my clit as his tongue works me open.
“I’m not going to last,” I gasp, my voice catching. I glance at the mirror behind us and see him between my legs, grinding his hips into the mattress, his face buried in my sex. The sight alone makes me shudder.
“Joaquin.” I chant his name, my knuckles turning white around the pillows. He doesn’t stop. He increases the vibrator’s speed, sucking me dry. The sounds—the wetness, the panting, the desperate moans—blur my vision. It’s too good. Too much.
“Baby, too much, please,” I gasp, trying to squirm away.
He pulls back and flips me onto my back. The toy still buzzes against the bedding. He kneels between my legs, his knee digging into the mattress to keep me open. My chest heaves, trying to steady my breath. His lips are wet with me, and he smiles proudly.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re a dream.”
I lean forward, desperately grabbing the waistband of his sweats. I need him now—need to feel him stretch me, fill me, cover me. I free him, stroking his length as he looks down, lips parted, sighing at the sensation.
I bring my mouth to his tip, pressing a kiss to it before taking him in. I flatten my tongue to the slit, tasting the salt of his precum. I slide him deeper into my mouth, the tip hitting the back of my throat, my nose brushing his skin.
He fists my hair, holding me in place. I breathe through my nose, one hand bracing on his hip for balance, and suck him slowly. I pull back halfway, wrapping my hand around the rest of his shaft, stroking and licking his cock. He throws his head back, moaning my name.
“You love sucking my cock?” he groans, bucking into my mouth, forcing me to take more. I nod, moaning, cheeks hollowing as I suck harder. “What beautiful noises you make. Look at you—soaking the bed.” He chuckles breathlessly, his knuckles brushing my cheek as his eyes flick to the wet spot behind me. I grind my hips against the sheets, needing friction.
He pulls me away from him, leaving me gasping, teary-eyed. “So pretty.”
This time, I grab his shoulders and shove him onto the bed. I straddle his lap as he watches me. I grab the vibrator from the bed and turn it up a notch. I trail it down his chest slowly, circling a nipple and dragging it to his waist, where my wetness coats his skin.
Now it’s my turn to play.
I do the same to myself—trailing the toy down my chest, teasing each nipple. My walls clench with anticipation. I shiver as I press it to my clit, grinding against him. Joaquin grips my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Fuck,” he swears.
I’m close again, but he grabs my hand and steals the orgasm from me. I cry out in frustration. He switches the toy off and tosses it across the room.
“I’m the one who’s allowed to make you come now. Enough playing.” His voice is rough, commanding.
He lifts my hips, and I line him up. I try to slam down, but he stops me. He keeps full control.
“Please,” I whimper, my hands over his, trying to wrestle control back. He chuckles wickedly—it’s no use. He lets me sink down slowly, the pace killing me. I open my mouth to complain, but he suddenly thrusts upward, leaving me gasping.
I brace my hands on his chest.
“All this for me,” he moans, brows furrowed with restraint. “Jesus, baby.”
He lifts me again and slams me back down. I let him use me, meeting his thrusts mid-air. “I’m not going to last,” I mumble, high on sensation. My eyelids flutter, my legs trembling, the coil inside me about to snap.
Joaquin flips us over and I squeal as my back hits the pillows. He slams into me harder, lifting one leg over his shoulder to spread me wider. I throw my head back, the new angle brushing against a deep, dizzying spot inside me.
His hips snap against mine, the pace relentless. My skin radiates heat and sweat sticks on my skin. I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, I need to feel him everywhere.
He braces one hand on the headboard as it creaks against the wall. I slip my tongue between his lips—I taste myself on him, and I moan. His hand slips between us and circles my clit while he pounds into me.
And I fall apart without warning, gasping his name and my body convulsing. His forehead presses to mine, our breaths uneasy. I clamp around him as he thrusts sloppily, then groans into my neck as he comes deep inside me.
We lie there panting, his face buried in my neck while I stroke his hair. I feel our mess leaking out as he pulls out and I wince when he gently lowers my leg from his shoulder.
“God,” I pant, my legs trembling. Joaquin slips out of the room and returns with a warm towel. I didn’t even notice he’d pulled his sweatpants back on. He sits at the edge of the bed, spreading my legs and carefully cleaning the mess between them.
I whimper, overstimulated even by his gentle touch. When he’s done, I sit up and rest my chin on his shoulder, his hand on my knee.
“You okay?” I ask. For once, I can’t read his face, and it makes me nervous. Did we just mess everything up?
“Yeah. Are you?” He brushes his thumb across my knee, a touch so soft it makes my heart skip.
“Fuck, why haven’t we done this before?” I blurt and he laughs. “You’ve been hiding this from me,” I tease, dragging my nails down his back.
“I’m sorry for what happened with Dean tonight.” He leans in, pressing a kiss on my cheek.
“It’s okay. I’m out of his league anyway.” I laugh softly.
I stand up from the bed, and my jello legs almost betray me, but Joaquin keeps me balanced on my feet with a steady hand on my waist.
“We should order in. I’m starving.” I pick up his jersey from the floor and throw it over my body, too lazy to grab something from my closet.
Joaquin licks his lips, looking at me. He stands up from my bed, and his chest meets my back. A hand roams from my chest up to my neck. He leans my face back and catches my lips for a slow tongue kiss.
My hand lands on top of his, the one holding my neck, and if he didn’t have me pressed against his chest, my legs would’ve given out. He pulls away and looks down at me, and I smile already tipsy from him alone.
“Yeah, let’s fuel you up, because I’m not done with you,” he says, smacking my ass and leading me downstairs to the kitchen.
Summary | When a blizzard hits and the group gets separated, you and Manny are stuck waiting out the storm together.
Warnings, Tropes | 18+, fem firefly!reader, possibly ooc manny (idk dude has like 5 mins of screen time), smut, forced proximity, acquaintances-to-lovers, requited-unrequited, oral (f receiving), dry humping, some dirty talk, unprotected p in v
Author's Note | Danny Ramirez is haunting me so now I have to write fanfics for all his characters 🤷♀️
WC | 12.6k
Harsh, howling winds rattled the windows of the resort, glacial air seeping in through cracked glass and walls eaten away by time. You could hear the building creaking with the severity of the storm, shingles flapping on the roof over your head, wayward doors swaying opened and closed somewhere on the floors below. As you sat bundled up in moth-eaten blankets, a stained and ripped paperback folded in your hands, Manny stood at the window facing the road, his shoulders rigid and foot tapping with impatience.
You had known a storm was coming as the team trekked through the Payette Forest - the temperatures were frigid, even by mountain standards, winds blowing crisp through the pines and woodland. For days, you encouraged Abby and the rest of the group to make camp in any of the nearby towns, as this had been a harsh winter already, but she kept putting it off, determined to make it to Jackson as quickly as possible.
It wasn’t until snow began to first fall delicately that you raised the matter again - after all, you were the pseudo-meteorologist of the group, for lack of a better title, so you knew how to predict the calm before the storm. And finally, they relented, hiking out of the forest and into the nearby cookie-cutter town of McCall.
The resort made the most sense for you to set up a base. Along the north side was a lake that had filled more and more through the years, flooding parts of the lower floor in a couple inches of icy water; the building was set back from the main roadway, allowing some isolation, and you could see for miles from the suite on the top floor, making it the ideal high ground.
Once the building was checked and secured, you all set out for a supply run, hoping to make it back before the storm hit. Knowing that time was limited, you decided to split up to cover more ground - you and Manny went south, Abby and Nora west, Owen and Mel south.
You’d gotten used to being paired off with Manny, as that had always been the case over the course of the past five years. For lack of a better word, you two were more akin to acquaintances than friends despite all your time together, the both of you not terribly interested in getting too close to anyone on the Firefly crew.
That shared attitude of detachment made you and Manny a good team - you could read one another and predict the next move, you could communicate easily through glances or gestures. Ironically, that also meant that you knew more about each other than anyone else, which wasn’t saying much in the grand scheme of things, but it bonded you nonetheless. Sure, he could annoy the hell out of you half the time, but if you had to pick someone to trust, at the end of the day it could only be Manny.
So, your partnership made the McCall supply run easy - the two of you rummaged through abandoned homes and a local game store, trying to find any possible provisions that you may need for the last leg on your trip to Jackson. Despite not finding much, you held out hope that perhaps the rest of the group may find things of more use.
But, as you’d come to learn, nothing was ever as easy as you expected. Considering your limited resources, your weather predictions weren’t an exact science - one moment, the snow was slow and beautiful, and then the next you couldn’t see more than five feet in front of you. You and Manny managed to make it back to the lodge, but now - some six or seven hours later - the rest of your group had yet to show up, and he was getting antsy, worrying over the lowering sun and the promise of nightfall.
“We should go looking for them.” Manny finally spoke for the first time in well over an hour. You took a deep breath through your nose, mouth tightening with agitation, though he couldn’t see the look with his back turned.
“We’re waiting.” You answered plainly without looking up from your book.
Manny turned to stare you down; you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was glowering at your seemingly nonchalant answer, “Something bad could’ve happened, and you sound bored?”
Here we go. Sometimes, you absolutely hated being left alone with him for more than an hour because it always ended up in some bullshit squabble over your attitude or Manny’s temper or something else completely irrelevant. Effective teamwork be damned, the two of you were nonetheless very different types of people.
Sighing, you dog-eared your page and dropped the book into your lap, matching Manny’s sour look with one of your own, “I’m not bored, asshole. I’m just following the rules that we made as a group. Or did you forget those already?”
The golden rules amidst the last remaining faction of Fireflies was simple: have a base to return to, wait there for each other when separated, and don’t go searching for anyone until twelve hours have passed. It stemmed from some kind of scout or camp guidebook, with a few tweaks, and it suited you all thus far. Everyone was more than capable of fending for themselves if need be, so it was better to avoid putting the whole group in danger whenever possible.
Manny’s eyes darkened a little as you stared at one another, neither wanting to be the first to look away, “By that time there’ll be no light left.”
“They know how to take care of themselves.” You countered, crossing your arms to retain a bit of warmth, “Abby said--”
“Doesn’t matter what Abby said.” He cut you off quickly, “None of us considered a goddamn blizzard when we set those rules up. Anything could happen to them out there - you just don’t care.”
An unamused laugh escaped you, rolling your eyes as sarcasm laced each of your words, “Wow, Manny, you’re so right, I never would’ve figured it out; I don’t care at all, that’s why I’m here and have been here all these years.”
“Stop with the attitude.” His jaw clenched as he took a step toward you, though he seemed hesitant to move too far from the window; he’d been practically glued to it since you got back, waiting for any sign of the rest of your team, “If you cared we’d be out there looking for them right now.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to continue mocking him the way you desperately wanted to right now. Eyes blazing, you stood, dropping your blankets and paperback carelessly while marching across the room towards Manny. You jabbed him firmly in the chest, but refrained from matching his temper; you were never one for arguments and confrontation, and nothing was ever resolved from your spats with Manny in the past.
“You really think I’m not worried out of my mind right now?” You asked through your teeth, “I’ve been stressed this entire trip just waiting for something bad to happen. Sure, I don’t feel good about sitting here reading a goddamn harlequin novel to pass the time, but it’s safer that we stay put, got it?”
Manny shook his head judgmentally, stepping back from you with a faint scoff, “You’re unbelievable. Why you’re still here is beyond me.”
Your brows shot up in stunned vexation at his hostility, “I’m still here because I give a shit, contrary to what you think.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Fucking asshole.” You hissed under your breath while turning away from him, “We’re on the same side, so why do you keep fighting with me?”
“Because you’re willing to let them die out there!”
“That’s not what I’m doing!”
“Isn’t it!?” Manny grabbed your elbow, spinning you around to face him again, “I know we have rules, and I know why. But the storm isn’t letting up, and they could be in serious trouble out there. And we’re doing nothing.”
“And what about us?” You hadn’t intended to raise your voice, yet your words came out in a strained yell nonetheless, “What happens if we go out there looking for them? Stop trying to be a hero and think about all the variables involved. What if we get lost out there, or we get attacked, or our own friends accidentally shoot us because they can’t see through all this fucking snow? Have you thought about any of that?”
You shook off Manny’s hand, continuing before he got the chance to intervene, “If we go out there, we could be putting ourselves at greater risk than any of them are in. We’re smart, that’s why this group works. Owen will do literally anything to keep Mel safe, Nora and Abby are the best survivalists I’ve ever seen. And we should stay put because we’re supposed to have enough confidence in their ability to stay alive.”
Manny looked between your eyes with a harsh glare, working his jaw as your words sank in. After a long beat, a scornful grin spread across his lips as he leaned towards you, voice low, “I guess you do care.”
You scowled up at Manny through your lashes, turning away again to go scoop up your book and blankets, intentionally keeping your back to him, “You’re not going out there, got it? We need to stick together. So, why don’t you cool off a little.”
Heading for the door, you had to resist the urge to turn and look at him; considering you were trying to make a point, you had to be more stubborn than usual.
“Where are you going?” You paused, hand resting on the doorknob.
“Anywhere to get away from you.” You answered harshly before throwing open the door and walking out into the hall.
It was pushing nine hours since the blizzard started. And no one was back yet.
You holed yourself up in what was once a game room, arcade cabinets with cracked screens and broken buttons lining one wall, billiards and foosball tables covered in dust and cobwebs lining the floor-to-ceiling windows. Miraculously, this half of the building wasn’t puddling with water, which couldn’t be said for some of the other rooms you wandered through.
All things considered, the furniture was in half-decent shape; you’d been curled in the corner of a couch since you found your way down here, trying and failing to focus on your contrived, though somehow charming, paperback’s narrative. Once night fell, you pulled out your flashlight in a half-assed attempt to try to read, but eventually you gave up, staring blankly at the pages for god knows how long.
Manny always assumed you didn’t care; he always assumed nothing mattered to you. Since the massacre at the hospital five years ago, when you all came together, the two of you were always pushing each other’s buttons in such little, inane ways.
You, who liked to have a plan and to keep a level-head, were so opposite to Manny’s action and emotion-driven attitude, that you were bound to have your disagreements. He was a soldier, ready to throw himself at anything he had to, willing to get his hands dirty; you were made for the backlines, planning and mapping and researching before you’d ever think to pick up a weapon. With the group all together, it was easy to balance out your personalities, easy to maintain order. The two of you had never been left alone together for this long, though.
Despite what Manny might think, you didn’t hate him. You never did. He was irksome and frustrating, but at the end of the day you respected him - his skills, his loyalty, his drive. Perhaps in another life - one in which you all weren’t forced to grow up in a dying world - things could have been different, you two could have been… well, something.
You thought about it from time-to-time, what life would be like if the last of the Fireflies could live those ‘normal’ lives you’d read about in books or seen in movies. You figured that your personalities clashed enough that maybe none of you would have befriended each other, considering that you came together as a means of survival rather than out of kinship.
But then you’d think about the good moments you shared. When you would stumble across something strange in an old magazine and immediately show Nora. When Mel would bring back little odds-and-ends that she thought were interesting. When you and Manny would actually laugh together at a joke one of you said that the others didn’t find quite so funny.
Maybe normal wouldn’t have been so bad.
Somewhere nearby, a door creaked on its hinges, startling you out of your reverie. You shot up in your seat, eyes wide as you looked left and right and behind; forgetting about your book, you clicked off your flashlight and reached for the knife strapped to your thigh, just in case the noise wasn’t friendly.
Heart beating rapidly, you prayed that it was everyone else managing to make their way back despite the dark of night. You carefully stood, taking light steps towards the door, ducking behind furniture and posts as you went.
And then you heard Manny’s voice calling your name, his tone frustrated; your chest deflated with ease as you sheathed your knife. You flicked your light back on and wrenched open the heavy door, drawing his attention from across the expansive lobby; you weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but it looked as if he let out a sigh of relief.
He lifted his arms, indicating the building around him, the beam from his own flashlight dancing aimlessly across the wall, “Had me searching this whole damn place for you.”
Manny’s mood seemed to have calmed, if his easy tone was anything to go on; maybe you wouldn’t have to take anymore attitude with him. One of the nearby windows, though still mostly intact, was missing a corner of glass, the bleak night air making you tug your collar up as if that could protect you from the cold.
You shrugged ruefully, “That was kinda the intention.”
Manny studied you, eyes searching your face and looking you up and down; it made you wonder what the hell was going on in his head. His jaw flexed as he nodded, accepting your reasoning, while looking about the lobby - toppled over furniture, icy floors from where water flooded in, shelves layered in cobwebs and dust.
“We stick together,” he said simply, echoing what you’d said to him a couple of hours ago, “you’re right about that. So long as it’s just the two of us here, we aren’t splitting up again.”
You nodded in agreement, chewing at the inside of your lip thoughtfully as your gaze dropped to the floor. There was a part of you that wanted to discuss your earlier argument, but neither you nor Manny were the type of people to apologize, so you refrained.
“Any sight of them yet?” You asked as your eyes trailed to the wall of windows facing the lake - endless darkness, no lights for miles and miles. Not even the shine of the stars and reflection of the moon was visible through the heavy snowfall, which caused a wave of stress to roll up your spine; the weather hadn’t let up in the slightest.
“No.” You looked back at Manny, studying his face as best you could with the harsh light and shadows obscuring it. A sigh left you as he slowly crossed the room, “They’ll be okay.”
His tone wasn’t terribly convincing, but you were under the impression that he was saying it in an attempt to reassure the both of you. As he drew closer, you held his gaze, realizing that - despite everything - his deep brown eyes were a comforting sight right now. So, you straightened your shoulders, bolstering yourself to the best of your ability.
“They’ll be okay.” You repeated with far more conviction than Manny had, though you were still trying to make yourself believe it. For a long, tense moment, the two of you stood there in silence until Manny dropped his gaze in consideration.
“Let’s go back upstairs,” he instructed simply. You knew without him saying so that the high ground made him feel safer - from there he could see anyone coming, friend or foe. So, you nodded in agreement, following after him until the two of you were back in the top floor suite that was your temporary camp.
The two small flashlights you had were barely useful with how heavy the blizzard had gotten outside, beams illuminating your respective supply bags, shifted furniture, a small stack of shockingly pristine blankets sat atop a chair. You raised a brow at Manny, but he didn’t notice the look.
“Where the hell did you find those?” You questioned, because they definitely weren’t here earlier.
Manny knelt over his bag, steadying his flashlight between his shoulder and cheek as he dug through his belongings, “Searched some of the other rooms. Guess hotels used to keep them in plastic, so they were covered all this time.”
“Plastic?” You muttered to yourself, before determining that maybe it was a cleanliness thing and moving on; you had been far too young to remember what the world was like before it collapsed. Walking up behind Manny, you peered over his shoulder; he was digging out what food you two managed to find before the storm hit, which wasn’t much - mixed nuts, some kind of canned meat that you didn’t quite trust.
He held the bag of nuts up to you, “Hungry?”
Honestly, you weren’t. You probably should have been, but considering the stress that had been gnawing at you for hours, it didn’t seem possible for you to have an appetite right now. Glancing at your face, Manny must have read as much, shrugging as he closed his bag and situated himself in one of the chairs that he’d moved to face the window. Ripping open the bag, he scooped a handful into his mouth while gazing out into the haze of snow.
You stared at the back of Manny’s head, mindlessly studying his silhouette; there was strain in his shoulders, a slump to his posture. Was it because of his worrying over the rest of the crew, was it your fight earlier, was it something else entirely? You ruled it was most likely a combination of all the above.
Glancing towards your own bag, you began to make a mental list of all the stock you had between the two of you - the food, batteries, some scarce hygienic supplies, knives and guns and bullets. Did you still have fresh water? Would you run out of food while waiting out the weather? A surge of panic shot through you at all the variables that you simply couldn’t predict.
As if it would help anything, you clicked off your flashlight - at the very least, you could control how many batteries you blew through. So, you might be stumbling around in the dark for a while? There were far worse things than that. Manny either didn’t notice or care about the absence of an additional light, his own resting upon a table and shining into the room, casting harsh shadows across walls and furniture. You were nearly surprised that he wasn’t using it as a beacon for the others, but then again, it could just as easily be a beacon for less than desirable guests.
Swallowing down the anxious lump in your throat, you approached Manny, dragging over another heavy chair to sit beside him. Plopping down into it, you glanced over, but his gaze remained forward. You took the opportunity to study his profile - brow furrowed like it always seemed to be, jaw clenched, eyes intently staring into the dark night. Since you met him, Manny always seemed to have a wealth of tension in his body, like an animal ready to pounce if he ever had to.
Your gaze trailed down the length of his body studiously, his elbows rusting atop his knees, fingers knotted tightly together, heel tapping with that usual impatience you’d come to associate with him. Sympathetically, your brow turned down, as if you could suddenly see all his years of agitation and restlessness and irritation.
“Stop doing that.” Manny’s low voice surprised you; he still had yet to pull his eyes away from the flurry of snow.
Your expression knotted slightly, “Doing what?”
Did the corner of his mouth upturn ever so slightly? Maybe you were just seeing things. He sighed faintly through his nose, “Doing that thing you do.”
The confused furrow of your brow deepened. Sensing your confusion, a small huff left Manny as he finally swiveled his gaze towards you, straightening in his seat just a little.
“The way you watch people.” He said as if it were obvious, “It’s like you’re… seeing right through them, digging around in their heads until you figure them out.”
You could see, now that you were staring at each other, something akin to amusement in Manny’s eyes as he continued, “I’ve watched you do it dozens of times, but it’s different knowing that you’re doing it to me. I don’t like the idea of you seeing something that others aren’t supposed to.”
Suddenly self-conscious, you dropped your gaze, biting your lip, “I didn’t realize it was that… intense.”
“It’s why you’re good at what you do; you're observant. We wouldn’t be here without it.” He said almost dismissively, as if it pained him to give you anything even resembling a compliment. Despite your nerves, you smiled faintly to yourself, glancing back up at Manny through your lashes.
“I didn’t think anyone noticed. That I watch people, I mean.”
Manny worked his jaw in consideration, as if he had a response on his tongue but was hesitant to share it. Though, a moment later, he caved to his thoughts, “Not sure if anyone else has. Just me, far as we both know.”
That smile of yours grew just a little bigger, eyes narrowing slightly. Really, you wanted to ask him why and when he ever noticed it in the first place. Considering just how much he disliked you, you’d figured through the years that he’d want as little to do with you as possible.
As if reading your mind, Manny turned his gaze back out towards the sky; you could see the tightness in his expression even better now that he was looking away.
“So, what are we gonna do?” He asked firmly; he almost turned his eyes back towards you - you could see it in the faint twitch of his head - but he refrained.
You took a deep breath as you mulled it over. It’s probably been ten hours now without any sign of the crew, and the both of you were well beyond concerned about it. Per the rules, if they weren’t back in another two hours, then you and Manny should technically go looking for them. But considering the weather was only growing meaner and uglier, that seemed like the worst thing you could do right now.
You followed Manny’s lead, staring out at the heavy snow, listening to the harsh wind blasting against the building, rattling windows and paneling. You always seemed to run cold, but just the sound of the storm’s severity made you shiver.
“We wait out the night.” You finally said. You only briefly considered how strange it was that Manny was allowing you to make the calls, but then you figured it was his soldier mentality - he wasn’t the decision maker, though he was a devoted follower, “There’s nothing we can do with the weather like this. We rest, we prep, we head out once the sun’s up, and we find them. Storm can’t last forever.”
For a long stretch, the two of you sat in agreeable silence, watching the snow fall for lack of anything better to do. Briefly, you wished you hadn’t forgotten that paperback downstairs - didn’t matter how bad it was, it would have at least given you something to do.
You tried not to let your gaze drift back towards Manny, wary of making him feel uneasy under your eyes again, but you couldn’t help stealing glances. From his hard set brow to his lips, down to his tense hands and bouncing knee; if anything, he could use something to keep him preoccupied even more than you could.
“When you searched the rooms,” you started simply for the sake of creating conversation again, “did you find anything else? Anything we can use?”
Manny shrugged as if none of it mattered, “Couple bars of soap, bottle of water, half a dozen bibles.”
The both of you huffed out a faint laugh, “Well, if I’m feeling really desperate for something to read, I guess I know where to look.”
Manny glanced back towards you, looking you up and down once, “What, already finish that stupid book you’ve been carrying around?”
You gave him a teasing glare, “Forgot it downstairs.”
He hummed quietly, “Must not have been that good… If you want, we can go back and get it.”
A surprised smile graced your lips at Manny’s offer; you weren’t expecting such a simple kindness from him. Though you considered it for a moment, you shook your head, “We should stay put.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, making a measly attempt at relaxing in his seat. Another beat of silence passed between you, “What was it about?”
Your brow furrowed, another half-assed laugh leaving you, “Oh, you must be bored if you’re asking about some romance novel.”
Manny laughed as well, “What else are we gonna talk about? The weather?”
You gave him a faux affronted look, though you appreciated his ability to joke about the one thing causing you both intense stress. There was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite place, almost companionship or admiration or something else you couldn't name. Grinning, you, too, settled into your seat, curling up to keep your body heat in; if it got any colder, you’d be bundling up in every single blanket the two of you had.
“It was some old-timey story,” You started, trying to find the right word, “not, uh, Victorian, but something else like it. The guy’s a lord or a duke, butting heads with his love interest the entire book. The tension was pretty good, all things considered.”
You looked back towards Manny, chewing at your lower lip as you recalled the plot. Remembering what was next, you diverted your gaze bashfully, “I got distracted somewhere after the wedding - hard to focus on it while being worried outta my mind over everyone else. Things were just about to get sexy, too.”
Manny snorted slightly, “I thought those books were all sex.”
You shrugged with an amused grin, “Guess not this one. Maybe that’s what the second half is gonna be. Might have to grab it before we leave tomorrow, and let you know how filthy things get.”
“Looking forward to it.” He joked, laughing smally in his chest, “Might just have to borrow it once you’re done.”
“Oh, you’ll love it.” You continued to jest, finding ease in the calm between you two, your anxieties briefly lifted as you laughed together.
A huge gust of wind blew against the building, causing the windows to rattle again; from another room, you heard glass break, shards tinkling to the floor, and with it the suite was suddenly colder. You and Manny both straightened in your seats as a door creaked, swaying back and forth with the draft.
Cursing under your breath, you rose to your feet, feeling Manny a step behind you, following the sound of groaning hinges till you found the culprit. One of the bedroom windows had already been cracked, and it finally gave in under the strain of the storm.
You peered into the room, eyes having adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the shine of snowfall and glass littering the floor. Backing up, you bumped into Manny’s chest, not realizing how close he’d been behind you; muttering a quick apology, you yanked the door closed, hoping that the latch was still intact enough that you wouldn’t have to worry. Again, you shivered - were you actually cold, or was it simply because you knew the harsh weather had gained one more small way to seep into the building?
You and Manny were still practically standing on top of each other, so he must have noticed the tremble of your shoulders or the clatter of your teeth. He tugged up the collar of your jacket again, checking that it was zipped up all the way; you would have thought it intimate if it weren’t for the harsh, instinctive way that he did it.
“You can’t be that cold all the time; been shivering like a wet cat since we left Seattle.” His tone seemed mildly jesting, yet there still seemed to be something mean about it.
“Shut up, I’m fine.” You bit back, brushing past him, “We should check the other bedrooms; probably best to just close everything up in case any more windows decide to give up on us.”
You didn’t know what hotels or resorts were supposed to be like, but you knew this suite was big, considering it’s four bedrooms and full kitchen; you’d read somewhere about deluxe rooms, or something like that, so now you knew what the hell that was describing.
Splitting up, you both checked the rooms, closing each of the doors as you went. This place seemed sturdy, but it was still nonetheless worn away by time. Returning to the front hall, you checked the front door seal on the off chance that maybe the lock still somehow worked, though you were soon let down, as it was jammed and unable to be secured. You made a mental note that you two needed to be extra mindful before you turned your attention back towards Manny.
He’d left his flashlight atop a table, so you could only make out his silhouette; you had the feeling he was staring back at you, too. With a faint sigh, you tried to find the pile of blankets he’d set aside earlier.
“We should try to get some sleep.” You instructed, despite the fact that you were wide awake. Though, curling up in all those blankets sounded nice, and maybe you’d finally be warm.
“You rest.” Manny answered with a small shake of his head, “I’ll take first watch just in case; wake you up in a few hours.”
He had a point - considering there were only two of you, it wouldn’t be wise for you both to drop your guard. But you nonetheless protested, “I can take watch, I’m wide fucking awake as it is.”
You heard him sigh, probably irritated with you yet again, “Then I guess we’re not sleeping at all tonight.”
“Manny--”
“I’ll sleep when I’m tired.” He interrupted, returning back to that damn chair of his, “Do whatever you want.”
You stared as he settled back into his seat, squaring his shoulders; you couldn’t help but roll your eyes while crossing your arms at him. For a long stretch, the both of you were silent, though you were unable to hold back the question that you’d been wanting to ask since the two of you made it to the resort, “What’s your problem with me, honestly?”
You heard Manny laugh without humor. Turning his head, you could vaguely make out his profile, that familiar sharp nose and strong jaw. Suddenly, you didn’t like that you’d asked the question, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. Silence stretched out between you, longer than you would have liked - Manny wasn’t the type to hold his tongue.
Finally, he took a breath, his voice less assertive than you were expecting, “I don’t have a problem with you…”
Now, it was your turn to give a deriding laugh, “You sure?”
Manny shook his head and sighed, returning his attention back to the storm outside, much to your annoyance. You continued to stare at the back of his head for a few long moments, before giving up; guess you’d let him take the first watch after all. Considering that your two options right now were to either sleep or sit around stressing out, you may as well sleep.
So, you began to arrange some kind of make-shift bed out of the blankets and a couple pillows that weren’t completely moth-eaten. You pushed the tattered couch, using it as a barrier between you and the door, with Manny and the window opposite of it.
You worked quietly, settling into the blankets, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was to be wrapped up while fully clothed and on the hard floor. By now, you should have been used to this kind of sleeping arrangement, but maybe the stress and tension were just causing every little thing to bother you.
“Hey,” Manny urged in a hushed whisper. You knew for a fact you hadn’t been sleeping long because you could feel the groggy discomfort in your head. Groaning, you stirred, realizing that you could feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder, “You good?”
Your expression knotted as you came back to consciousness. The darkness was the same now as it had been when you lied down, though at some point Manny had clicked off his flashlight. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you tried to find him in the shadows, tugging at the blankets as the cold somehow seemed to penetrate right to your core. Your voice came out hoarse and whiny, “What?”
“You were moaning in your sleep.” He explained, fingers squeezing your shoulder faintly as you shuddered from the cold, “Jesus, you still cold under all that?”
“Shut up…” You groaned, already wide awake again. That was the nature of living like this, always moving and on high alert - rest and relaxation were an impossibility, “I’m fine.”
Manny sighed before clicking his tongue decisively. He took his hand back, and you could make out the way he brushed it across his forehead and eyes as if he was already feeling peeved at you all over again.
“Scooch.” He instructed.
“Huh?”
Another irked sigh left him, “Make room. You’ll do better with some body heat.”
You scoffed, “Don’t, it’s fine--”
“Just do it.”
With an exasperated huff, you shuffled over, tugging and shifting the blankets around yourself as Manny sat beside you. Under your breath, you grumbled incoherently, growing tense at the feel of his body settling in right there next to yours, shoulder bumping against yours. He rested his back upon the uncomfortable floor, laying like a board as you continued fussing with the blankets as some measly form of distraction.
But you knew you couldn’t be avoidant forever, so you eventually forced yourself to lie back, body just as rigid as Manny’s beside you. Your arm brushed his, and you attempted to shuffle away.
“Will you stop moving?” He urged, pushing closer to you intentionally, “Defeats the purpose, I’m trying to help regulate your temperature.”
“I told you I was fine.”
“You’ve been chattering all damn night,” Manny pressed his arm against yours, knee nudging you as he grumbled in irritation, “Be thankful I didn’t suggest skin-to-skin…”
Much to your chagrin, you felt a small jolt through you at the idea, your imagination too vivid for your own good sometimes. Picturing - even if just for a brief moment - the feel of Manny’s bare skin on top of yours, warm hands and tangled legs, mouth exploring every inch…
“Gross.” You spat out despite that obnoxious little sensation that stirred in your stomach. No, you were not about to picture Manny, of all people, in a compromising position like that. Maybe that stupid paperback had gotten to your head - after all, you didn’t read quite far enough to get to the good stuff, leaving you hungry to know what happened next.
It was like you could feel the way Manny’s eyes rolled at you as he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. You did the same, glowering up at the ceiling as if it had personally offended you.
For a long couple of minutes, the two of you stayed put, like two stubborn children unwilling to come to an agreement. Not that you would admit it, but having him there next to you did help warm you up, though you may also have your own dirty mind to blame for the flesh of heat through your body.
As the wind picked up even more aggressively outside, the creaking and rattling of the building around you sent another shudder through your body. Dutifully and without hesitation, Manny inched closer to you in response; you hoped the way you leaned towards his touch was subtle enough for him not to notice.
“We cool?” Manny asked in a low tone, causing your brows to raise.
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Because it sorta seems like we never are.” He countered instantly, as if he had guessed exactly how you would respond. In your periphery, you could feel the way he turned his head to gaze at your profile, which caused you to tense up even more. An unamused laugh passed through his lips, faintly fluttering against your cheek; you had to refrain from sighing at its warmth, “You never really liked me. Sometimes it seems like you can barely tolerate me.”
Surprised, you turned your head as well, trying to make out his expression in the dark, “Says the guy who hates me.”
This time, you shivered with nerves, though Manny couldn’t have known the difference, as he tried to press closer to you again. He didn’t answer for a brief moment, mulling over his response before muttering dismissively, “Hate you? No mames…”
“Oh, come on,” feeling wide awake now, you rolled onto your side, propping your head in the palm of your head, “for five years we’ve argued over stupid shit, poking at each other all the time. What else am I supposed to think?”
You could vaguely see Manny’s lips turn down in consideration before he teased, “Maybe I just like arguing with you? Keeps things interesting.”
“Yeah right,” you laughed while shaking your head, “Why you so worried about it all of a sudden?”
This time, the pause between you was different, hesitant and strained. Though you couldn’t quite discern Manny’s expression in the dark, his head turned down slightly, jaw flexing. Something about it made you uneasy.
His voice was just above a whisper, serious and contemplative, “Well, on the off chance that something bad happened out there…”
He briefly stalled, as if he didn’t want to finish the sentence. It gave you just enough time to let the words sink in, the weight of them heavy upon you. Yes, for all you knew, all of your companions could be dead or sick or buried in snow out there. For all you knew--
“--you might be all I have left.” Manny’s confession had a somber quality to it, causing a pressure in your chest that was a confused mess of dismay and want and unease. You sucked in a breath, trying to maintain your calm.
Because Manny was right. You might be all he has left, just as much as he might be all you have left. The past few years aside, what would you two do if it were only you? Despite being able to keep a level-head, despite being rational, you couldn’t help but entertain those fears; in order to stay sane, you also had to be able to look into the mouth of the beast, so to speak.
In all this time, your group had never been separated this long unless it had been planned - for five long years, the last of the Fireflies had become the closest thing you had to family.
“Manny,” you whispered reassuringly, leaning towards him to make your point, chest lightly pressing against his shoulder and arm, “everyone’s okay. You and me, we’re good together; if they can’t find us, we’ll find them. And if for some fucking reason it is just you and me now, we’ll take care of each other.”
He faintly laughed, the sound uncertain, his warm breath tickling your cheeks again, “Like we always do…”
“I haven’t let you die yet,” you teased, hoping a bit of levity might put him at ease.
“I’m sure you thought about it at least once.” He quipped.
“Well, only when you were being really annoying.” You smiled contently, appreciating the sincerity between you two. With Manny, you’d always put up fronts or used jokes against one another - really, you’d never had much of a serious one-on-one conversation, even after all this time. There was another charged pause between you.
“I never hated you, you know.” Manny’s tone was so frank and warm and… perhaps affectionate, strange as that seemed.
You startled as his hand brushed your shoulder - you were so focused on his face that you hadn’t realized he moved. His fingers slid carefully along your collarbone, hesitating at the base of your neck; your body became tense, taken aback by the knot in your chest, by the tenderness of his touch. What the hell was this about?
With a sharp, sad breath, you leaned back, hoping Manny would allow his hand to fall away from you. Instead, he gently pressed his palm to the side of your neck, keeping you close, “Don’t.”
You could feel the intensity of his eyes staring at you, fingers lightly flexing against your skin, “Don’t what?”
Shaking your head, you tried to calm the skip of your heart, the spike of nerves that swelled in your body. It was like a surge of heat from head to toe, a part of you aching for it while another part wishing to get away from it.
“We’re not doing the ‘all hope is lost’ thing. Don’t project feelings onto me that aren’t there, it isn’t fair to either of us.” You managed to sound more assured than you felt, your resolve already wavering.
You never ever hated Manny, either. Of course you never hated him; you wouldn’t have tolerated his bullshit otherwise. Yes, the two of you bickered and poked fun at each other, threatening to trade foraging partners when one of you was particularly irksome to the other. But neither of you ever followed through with it, because at the end of the day, neither of you would ever want to work with anyone else.
You and Manny fit together. He was resourceful, you were knowledgeable; he knew when to act first, and you knew when to plan ahead. You’d learned to read each other without speaking a single word; how to fight together seamlessly when shit went south. So what, you’d never had a serious, heartfelt conversation, even after years working side-by-side? Didn’t the knowing glances and elbow jabs and shared laughs make up for that? Hell, you knew for a fact that no one understood you like Manny did, and vice versa.
And, fuck, that was the problem, wasn’t it?
“I’m not doing that.” Manny insisted in that tone you knew so well - earnest and cross, adamant because he didn’t want to be brushed off. Allowing his hand to fall, he propped himself up, resting his elbows on the floor to be eye level with you.
“Aren’t you, though?” You argued, though your tone had no conviction to it, “All this time and you wait till now to, what, make a move?”
Manny scoffed and shook his head, but it seemed a measly attempt to protect himself rather than a reflection of any upset he felt. He took a deep breath, his attentive eyes searching your face candidly, “You ever think that maybe I’ve liked you this whole time, nena?”
The question caused you to inhale sharply, an anxious jolt shooting through your chest. Your mouth hung slightly ajar as you tried to believe him before you swallowed your nerves, asking quietly, “This whole time?”
Manny shifted before reaching towards you again, thumb brushing along your jaw before his hand tentatively returned to the back of your neck; a very faint, unamused laugh escaped him, “Think about it?”
And you were. You tried to recall all the times you two argued, only for you to realize he had a charmed glint in his eyes; all the times he was the first person you looked to whenever things went bad. When being in each other’s space went from being a necessity to being a comforting familiarity; when Nora started mocking the two of you for acting like an old married couple.
Those times you’d catch Manny staring at you, only for him to look away. How he’d whisper a stupid joke in your ear that he didn’t want anyone else to hear. Those little unnecessary touches - a hand at the small of your back, knees brushing when you sat side-by-side despite there being more than enough room for you both. You’d wake up sometimes in the middle of the night with an extra blanket draped over you. Or on foraging hunts when Manny would bring you a little something just because he thought you might like it.
Fuck, you were an idiot. How was it all so painfully obvious, yet managed to go completely over your head all this time?
A laugh of realization and disbelief escaped you, yet it was also a laugh of relief - like some weight you weren’t even aware of had finally been lifted from your shoulders.
“I’m so stupid…” You muttered, shaking your head at yourself.
Sensing your shift in attitude, your walls coming down, Manny jested quietly, drawing just that little bit closer to you, “Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but…”
You giggled again nervously, rolling your eyes and biting your lip. Your nerves were like an electric current, static through your limbs, heart pounding in your chest. Hesitantly, you reached towards Manny, gently resting your hand to his chest, fingers splaying over his collarbone. To your relief, he leaned into the touch, resting his forehead carefully against yours while taking in a deep breath.
“For the record, I never hated you, either.” You murmured. Manny’s grip tightened ever so slightly on the back of your neck.
“I know.”
His mouth found yours urgently, a surprised hum rising in your throat; he tasted bitter and sharp, utterly intoxicating as you savored him. You could feel Manny’s smile against your lips, charmed by your reaction as his fingers flexed eagerly on your skin. Pressing closer, you wound your arms around his neck, kissing him as if you’d been starved and he was the only thing that could satiate you.
The two of you were in-sync just as you always were, hands groping, mouths insistent, bodies slotting together as Manny laid you back on the pile of blankets, his weight atop you warm and comforting like he belonged there. Just like all your silent glances, it was as if you knew what the other was thinking, moving together as his tongue slid across your lower lip, your hands tugging desirously at his curls.
Shamelessly, you opened your mouth to him, tongues swirling together as you moaned; Manny’s grip on you grew tighter, incited by the sound. He blindly groped around, fingers brushing over your breast and collarbone till he found the zipper of your coat, yanking it down in one fluid motion before sliding both hands inside it. You arched into the touch, tugging faintly at his hair as a searing coil knotted in your stomach.
Manny groaned salaciously, pushing up the hem of your layered shirts, his touch a scorching fire on your skin. Your hips bucked, heart thumping wildly in your chest. Gliding your hands down his neck and chest, you fumbled with his coat as well, causing him to laugh into your mouth as you struggled with it. His breath hot against your face as he pulled back, sitting up on his heels to rip the layer away, your chest heaving as you watched. Manny’s hands were on you again in a flash, swooping in to capture your lips again.
Propping up on your elbows, you hastily pulled off your own winter coat, not willing to break away from the kiss again so soon. Once your hands were free, you slid them over Manny’s firm torso, humming contently at the feel of him.Sliding your hands beneath his shirts, your body tightened at the guttural sound in his throat, your fingernails grazing over his abs and sides amorously. His hips twitched against yours, causing you to sigh with want.
Manny’s hands traveled down your neck and chest and waist, grabbing as if desperate to feel every part of you all at once. He kissed you ardently before withdrawing his lips, blazing a hot trail along your jaw and neck, sucking at the sweet spot just above your collarbone; the mewl that left you was downright sinful, causing Manny’s faint laugh to vibrate against your skin.
“Oh, that’s the spot, huh?” He teased in a growl that made your body clench wantonly, back arching into his touch, “Should’ve done this years ago…”
Fuck yes he should have. You should have, instead of letting all this want and desire pent up inside you. You were ravenous for Manny’s touch, finally having tasted the forbidden fruit, nails digging into his sides just enough to draw a sigh from him, mouth continuing to nip along the expanse of your neck. You pushed his shirts up higher, desperate to feel every inch of his soft skin, to memorize each curve and blemish with your fingertips.
As Manny rolled his hips far too alluringly against yours, you keened and scratched your nails along his sides, spreading your legs so he could slot between them more easily. The press of him against your center was maddening, making you realize just how long it had been since anyone aside from yourself had touched you. Your pussy clenched with anticipation, Manny’s body making your head spin as you imagined all the things he could do to you.
You groaned incoherently as his teeth gently bit your skin; Manny went rigid for just a moment, enthralled by the sound before he continued ravishing your neck.
You insistently began to tug at his clothes, deciding there were far too many layers between you. It should not have been this erotic to help someone strip, yet his hot breath on your skin and the feel of his body flexing beneath your fingers was dizzying. When finally his chest was bare, Manny leaned back, allowing your hands to explore, although you quickly knotted your fingers in his hair again and drew his mouth back to yours. He smiled against your lips, hips grinding longingly in response.
Manny pulled back after one more sweet kiss, mouth dragging down your neck and chest, hands sliding your shirt up to your breasts to expose your abs to his frenzied lips. His teeth grazed over your stomach, kissing along the curves of your body as your hands tangled in his hair.
Reaching between you, Manny undid your pants swiftly, hooking his fingers into the waistband as his lips hungrily nipped at your skin, biting and sucking feverishly. Your eyes crossed, feeling just how bad that hickey would be later.
Manny gave your pants a quick tug down to your knees, finally breaking his lips away from your skin with an audible pop. Breathing deeply, he shuffled lower, nose grazing over your panties as he pulled at your pants again, helping you out of them before they were tossed carelessly aside. You inhaled sharply at his warm breath so very close to your center, wet and needy and waiting for him.
“Shit…” He muttered, lips brushing over the thin fabric of your panties, your hips rolling instinctively, “Not fair that you smell that good.”
The compliment made you whine hungrily, nails scratching through his hair. He pressed a kiss to the fabric between you, causing you to buck again with a gasp. Resting his hands firmly on your thighs, he trailed down that little bit further, breath hot and moist along your slit, causing your eyes to roll back. His fingers dug faintly into your flesh as he took in the smell of your desire, making you squirm with anticipation.
And then he pressed his tongue flat to your pussy, spit soaking through your already damp panties as you moaned unabashedly, causing Manny’s own hum to rock against you. Your grip on his hair tightened as he began to lap at you slowly, tip of his tongue flicking over your clit over and over, making your toes curl.
“Oh, fuck…” You muttered, grinding your hips against Manny’s mouth in time with the strokes of his tongue. Another growl sounded in his throat as he held your thighs firmly as if to keep the both of you at a slow, steady pace. Your body jolted when he teased at your entrance, the measly layer of fabric the only thing keeping you two apart and causing you frustration.
As if he could read your mind, Manny slid a hand up your leg, hooking a finger around the fabric of your panties and pulling them out of the way, his mouth pulling back a mere inch. His hot breath teased along your slit, making you ache for him.
A desirous sound of approval rumbled in his chest before Manny pressed his mouth to your pussy, causing you to yelp at the feel of his wet tongue bare against you. The hand on your thigh tightened its grip as he hungrily ate you out, mouth ravenously sucking on your clit, tongue diving between your folds insatiably. You threw your head back with a vulgar cry, already seeing stars as you rolled your hips greedily, causing Manny to splay his hand across your pelvis in an effort to hold you in place.
“Slow down, baby…” He groaned into your pussy, the roughness of his tone doing nothing to make you any less wet and desperate, especially when he went back to devouring you in the same breath. Your legs were already shaking on either side of his head, five long years making it damn near impossible to keep yourself from coming undone.
It was like an electric spark each time his tongue teased at your clit, your whimpers growing only more desperate and carnal. Your legs began to clench around him, forcing Manny to firmly grip both your thighs, fingers digging into your skin to keep you from tightening around his head. You trembled in his strong hold, rutting desperately against his mouth, the both of you moaning with a drunken pleasure.
“Oh god--!” You stuttered with a gasp, Manny’s mouth unrelenting on your clit, eating you out like you were his goddamn last meal, “Manny--!”
You felt him tense before his mouth grew even more frenzied, the sound of his name on your tongue sinful and encouraging. Your breath came out short and gasping and desperate, head swirling with bliss, body trembling as you rode his tongue closer and closer to your release.
And then you spiralled abruptly, cumming hard and intense as your body tightened, moans spilling from your lips like prayer. Manny lapped at your desire, taking another deep breath of you as his hands held so tight to your trembling thighs that you knew it would bruise. You shook in his hands, body melting as he continued to cruelly tease at your clit with his tongue, incoherent words of pleasure falling from your mouth.
When your hands finally untangled from his hair, Manny relented, pulling back to catch his breath as you rode the high of your orgasm, eyes crossed and head fuzzy. His nose brushed along your inner thigh, causing you to twitch; an airy laugh tickled against your skin in response.
“God…” He grumbled, resting his forehead against your leg for a moment. The distinct smell of sex reached you, sweaty and sweet and musky, as your chest heaved with steady breaths. Though your limbs felt weak, you gently brushed your hand over Manny’s curls, staring up at the ceiling as you composed yourself.
Manny began a slow crawl up your body, lips grazing over your skin wantonly until you were nose-to-nose, tasting your own sex in the air between you two. He firmly pressed his groin against your sensitive core, drawing a faint whimper from your lips, which he captured in a deep, impassioned kiss.
Your hands explored his body, delighting in the flex of his muscles, the heat of his skin. His tongue slid into your mouth zealously, tasting you with a deep moan. For the first time in days, you finally felt warm, sweat dampening the small of your back. Without breaking away from Manny’s lips, you began to tug your shirts up, only splitting for half a second so you could yank them over your head.
Manny cupped your breasts, squeezing eagerly and groaning as your nipples hardened under his touch. He drew his lips away, kissing down your neck until he could tenderly bite the soft flesh of your chest; your toes curled as he sucked another hickey to your skin, hooking your heels on the backside of his legs while rutting your hips again.
Satisfied with the bruise he left, Manny captured your lips fiercely, rolling his hips, his erection strained and beguiling within his pants. Your legs tightened either side of him, using the leverage to move with him, grinding against his cock slowly, drawing an illicit groan from his lips.
Manny grabbed firm hold of you, flipping your bodies around in one fluid motion to put you on top. Sitting up, he practically devoured your lips, the kiss sloppy and salacious. In his lap, you continued grinding your hips, arching your back as the friction caused you to whine, your sex dampening through your panties to his jeans.
God, the feel of him swollen and hard against your clit was mouthwatering, your pace growing more urgent and needy as Manny groped at you with feverish hands, squeezing and rubbing and scratching like he was afraid someone might steal you away from him. He reached around your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it away; prying his lips from yours, he took one of your peaked nipples into his hot mouth, tongue swirling and teeth grazing. You cried out, head falling back as you leaned into his touch, your pussy slick with want as your hips stuttered.
You muttered achingly as Manny fondled your breasts, his hips bucking needily beneath you as he growled with impatience. Your fingers knotted in his hair again, tugging just hard enough to make him hiss as you rut against him.
Feeling like a tightly wound coil again, you pried yourself off Manny, much to his protest, shuffling down his legs just enough to undo his jeans, pulling them away before crawling back to him. You cupped his erection through his boxers, sighing sharply at his size and girth; you gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to groan while grinding himself into your hand. You began to stroke him through the underwear, hand slow and firm as it teased along his length, thumb running over his tip, hitting a spot he must have loved given the way he twitched and groaned.
You grabbed the waistband of the boxers and drew them down, the head of Manny’s cock bouncing against his stomach with a dull thump. You stroked him again, lightly squeezing as you went from head to hilt at a cruel pace, teasing along the vein on the underside of his length. As your hand began to bounce at a steady rhythm, Manny lied back, mouth ajar and eyes closed.
“Baby…” He grumbled, hips bucking up to meet your hand, causing his thigh muscle to tighten beneath your pussy, making you moan right along with him.
Giving into your impatience, you yanked off your panties, crawling over Manny so you could press a fierce kiss to his lips. As you tried to pull away, he cupped the back of your neck, tongue sliding into your mouth as he kissed you like you were the air he breathed, moaning desperately in his throat. His opposite hand slid between you, fingertips swirling your swollen clit and causing you to shiver.
When finally your lips broke apart, you were gasping for air, Manny’s cock twitching against your inner thighs, your knees slightly trembling thanks to the lazy winding of his fingers on your sex. The glint in his hooded eyes caused you to smile affectionately, repositioning yourself till you were centered over his erection, his hands gliding along your thighs and hips and waist like you were something coveted.
Manny dug his fingers into your hip, grinding your wet pussy along the length of his cock, whispering endearments so low that you could barely make them out. Steadying your hands upon his firm chest, the friction between you nearly made you whine. Manny took a deep breath as he shifted you so that he was lined up with your entrance, the two of you lingering for a moment as you stared into each other’s faces.
And then you slowly lowered yourself onto him, groaning in unison as you stretched around his girth. You were so wet already, taking him hilt deep with a shudder at the feel of him inside you. Manny held still, composing himself as you adjusted to his size - five years without dick make you feel like a damn virgin all over again, the twitch inside you causing a yelp of pleasure to jump from your lips.
You stayed like this a moment longer before you unhurriedly rut against Manny’s hips, another raptured cry escaping you at the pressure against your clit. Manny’s grip became even more firm against your skin, deep breaths inflating his chest as he ground up into you, finding that sweet spot deep inside you far, far too easily. Your hips moved together, jerky and uncoordinated, desperately chasing the delectable sensation coursing between your bodies.
Manny’s hands drift around to your ass, squeezing encouragingly as he rolled his hips, your name hot on his tongue. He lifted you just a couple inches off of him, cupping your rear so he could thrust up into you, skin clapping together while your nails dug into his pecs. He hit you nice and deep over and over again, the thrust of his hips growing more unyielding with each mewl and cry that slurred from your mouth. Fuck, his dick was intoxicating, the way it stretched you out and filled you up, making your eyes cross and your limbs trembled.
Hungry for more, you began to bounce on your knees, stuttering until you matched Manny’s rhythm, bracing your hands either side of his head to get a deeper angle. You exhaled sharply as he buried himself inside you, thrusts growing feverish, skin slick with sweat. A growl rose deep in his chest, craning his neck to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing and tongues swirling. You moaned into his mouth, rolling your hips erratically.
Manny’s greedy hands trailed back up your body, fondling your tits, tweaking your nipples between his fingers. A fierce little “come here” rumbled in his throat, drawing your chest towards him so he could bite at your flesh again. The new angle of your hips caused pressure on your clit that made you cry out, body shuddering with pleasure as Manny drove his cock deep inside you over and over again.
“Fu-uck--!” You whined loudly, grinding your hips as Manny became more frantic, thrusts hard and lecherous and like a drug. His breath was hot against your breasts, your back arching as his hands explored your body, gripping firmly at your waist as he pushed just that little bit deeper.
Manny drew his knees up to press against your back, using the angle to bury himself in you, hand trailing down to massage your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your hips faltered with a yelp as you groped at his arms to keep yourself steady.
He rut his hips hard into you, the slick sound of your skin slapping together causing your pussy to clench tight around him, drawing another hiss from between his teeth. Your body became frenzied, hips rolling and toes curling, a string of gasps spilling from your mouth as his thumb returned to swirling your clit, sending jolts of desire through your body.
“Fuck, you’re falling apart, huh?” Manny growled with a dazzling grin, enthralled by the sight of you as he fought not to come undone himself, “Taking me so good…”
God, his voice made you squirm and moan, riding his cock with a hungry zeal, bouncing on shaky legs as your pussy tightened around him. Drool began to pool under your tongue, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your pace grew sloppy and graceless.
“That’s right, baby…” Manny breathed out, applying more pressure to your clit, stilling the upward thrusts of his hips so you could ride him until you fell apart. You bounced and rutted, chasing the cusp of another orgasm, nails racking harshly along his body before digging into his thighs, which still pressed firmly into your back, using him as leverage for your rapacious grinding.
You managed to find Manny’s intense gaze in the dark, the two of you staring intensely at one another, eyes hooded and mouths hanging open. Under his breath, he murmured a string of “come on, come on” like a mantra, thumb continuing its unrelenting pattern on your clit as your legs began to shake, nails scratching at his skin forcefully enough that you dared to draw blood.
And then it was like a white hot flash of lightning, an obscene cry leaping from your mouth as you clenched tight around Manny’s cock, throwing your head back as everything within you trembled, your release frenzied and wild.
You shook while bracing yourself, orgasm rocking your body, stars behind your eyes as a weak string of moans fell from your tongue. Manny held you tight, squeezing your skin in his hands, watching you with utter awe and ecstasy, the clench of your soaked pussy drawing guttural moans from his chest. His cock twitched inside you, desperate for release, but he resisted the urge so he could focus on how goddamn incredible you looked cumming all over his dick.
When you finally floated down from cloud nine, your body racked with pleasure. Manny’s cock was still buried inside you, rock hard and twitching, sending shocks of euphoria through your body. The tension accompanying your orgasm melted away, legs like pudding as you balanced your hands atop his chest again.
“Fucking hell…” Manny murmured, enthralled by you. A goofy smile graced your lips as you slowly lowered your lips back towards his, moaning into his mouth at the way his full cock shifted inside you. The kiss was deep and sloppy, breathing each other in with such ardent want, molding together as if you were made for it.
Manny gave a slow roll of his hips, hands exploring your hot skin as you continued to whimper against his lips. Slowly, he pushed up inside you, delighting in your gasps and spasms, his tongue delving into your mouth again with desperate desire. You held his jaw tenderly, pulsing around his thrusts; eventually, he pulled back, lips brushing against yours as he spoke.
“Got one more in you, cariño?” He whispered wickedly, smiling triumphantly as you moaned, walls clenching around him again. He was so close, feeling how desperately his body wanted release. When you nodded, nose bumping gently with his, Manny’s arms encircled you, flipping you onto your back faster than you could blink, the motion and accompanying friction making you gasp sinfully.
Manny sat back on his heels, hands stroking down your legs, cock still buried inside you as he positioned your bodies. He spread your legs, pushing them up either side of you, hands holding your knees as he bottomed out, moaning huskily at the feel of you. He rolled his hips steadily, hitting deep inside your wet pussy, fingers digging into your skin. You grasped at the mess of blankets beneath you, body curving up to meet Manny’s thrusts as skin slapped skin, hair sticking to your sweaty neck and forehead.
Manny grunted praises through his teeth, slamming deep into you with rapid strikes. Already so sensitive after your orgasms, you moaned wildly at the way he slid in and out of you, body starting to tremble again. Manny pushed your legs even higher and wider, eyes closed and brow furrowed as he used your body, burying into you with a hungry fervor.
You threw your head back as your thighs tried to clench either side of Manny’s torso, but his grip was firm and strong, holding you in place as your entire body shook with intense pleasure. His thrusts grew even more insistent, fast and deep and mouthwatering.
“That’s right, baby--” He hissed as he slammed into you, “so fucking good--”
His words made you whine delectably, pussy clenching around him, rhythm unrelenting. His breath began to come out in deep shudder, hips stuttering on the edge of release as he stole a few more deep thrusts before abruptly pulling out of you.
It was a shock to be so empty all of a sudden, a loud cry leaving you; in the next moment, Manny was spilling warm seed onto your stomach, his groans overlapping with yours. His hands shook as he clung tight to your legs, his head lulling forward as the last of him pooled on your hot skin, sweat gliding down his taunt muscles.
For a long beat, neither of you moved as you caught your breath. Eventually, you lowered your legs either side of him, reaching trembling hands up to cup Manny’s jaw as he balanced above you, swooping in to steal a needy kiss. The both of you moaned at the taste of each other, your body still yearning for him despite the three orgasms he already gave you. Pulling back, he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours, breathing you in deeply for a minute.
“Be right back.” Manny whispered roughly, grunting as he pushed back on his heels before rising to his feet, legs still shaky. You hummed in acknowledgement, watching his silhouette move through the dark, listening as he rummaged in his bag and opened a canteen. He returned moments later, kneeling beside you and pressing a damp cloth to your stomach, causing you to faintly gasp at the chill of it cleaning your skin of his mess.
“Thanks,” You giggled, cock-drunk and giddy, once Manny was done. He sat down beside you again, huddling himself in the blankets as a sweet laugh met your ears.
“For what - the mindblowing sex?” He teased, to which you gave him a half-assed punch in the arm, which only made him laugh again.
“Shut up, asshole.” You smiled fondly, eyes fluttering shut contently.
Your body had finally relaxed, a thin layer of sweat glistening over your skin, which finally allowed for the blizzard outside to chill you to the bone again, your teeth chattering. Looking about in the dark, it was hard to tell where exactly any of your clothes had ended up, but before you could even crawl away from the comfort of your blankets, Manny gently grabbed your arm.
He tugged you into him, muttering against your hair, “Worry about it in the morning.”
“And freeze in the middle of the night?” You countered, though being curled in his side and huddled together was doing wonders for your temperature. It reminded you of what he said earlier, which already felt lifetimes away, causing you to huff out a small laugh, “Guess we’re doing the skin-to-skin thing after all, huh?”
Manny laughed, too, arms tightening around you as he grumbled again, echoing your words back at you, “Shut up, asshole.”
“Sheesh, look at these two.”
A voice and accompanying snickers pierced through your unconscious, causing you to start abruptly, instinctively reaching for your knife that was nowhere to be found. The warm body beside you shot up with a gasp, seemingly fumbling around for something as well, which caused even more raucous laughter.
And then, of course, your mind caught up with you as you recalled last night, eyes straining to open against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the snow outside.
“So, this is what you were doing instead of searching for us?” Nora’s familiar voice taunted, your vision still heavy with sleep. Mortification shot through you like a bullet, feeling your neck and ears grow hot as you slumped under the blankets as if to hide your shame.
Manny’s body was warm beside you, his morning voice gravelly; despite yourself, it caused a faint stirring in your stomach, “Fuck off.”
The sheet over your head was tugged away, Owen’s teasing face there to greet you as you shivered at the cold, “Aw, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”
“Stop…” You whined sleepily, crossing your arms over your chest on the off-chance that you may end up more exposed than you would like.
Eyes adjusted to the light, you looked from one face to the next - everyone seemed to be amused, even Abby, who tried to hide that behind a glare. Fuck, this is just what you needed first thing in the morning.
Manny clicked his tongue, pulling a blanket around his bare shoulders and torso, “We were gonna look for you today.”
“Just had to get some first?” Mel asked with a laugh, rolling her eyes before shooting you a wink.
“Get dressed.” Abby chimed in before either of you could rise to the bait. Curling into yourself, you pressed closer to Manny to steal some of his body heat, “We gotta make some progress before another storm hits. Right?”
She looked at you with raised brows, as if you could simply predict the weather like some kind of magician. You sighed while weakly nodding, attempting to stifle a yawn.
“Yeah, yup, before another storm.” You answered roughly, raising your hand to wave it in the direction of the door, “Will you all go please?”
“Oh, she wants some privacy.” Nora continued to tease, even as she began to slowly back up towards the door, the others following suit.
“Five minutes.” Abby instructed, still fighting to hold in her own mirth at your predicament, “Any longer and we’ll drag you out.”
You and Manny watched as they trickled out of the room. Nora stopped to shoot you a big thumbs up, causing another wave of laughter through the group as they closed the door behind them.
Alone again, Manny looked down at you, dark stare taking in your disheveled appearance with a faint smirk. Sighing heavily, you sat up, shivering as the cold air hit your bare back, shoulders shrugging up to your ears.
“Fuck!” You chattered, catching the mischievous glint in Manny’s eyes, your brow knotting, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I mean,” he leaned towards you as if to whisper a secret, “we can do a lot in five minutes…”
You laughed abruptly at his insinuation, rolling your eyes as you leaned in as well, lips lingering just out of reach, “Shut up and put your clothes on.”
summary: you’re supposed to hate Manny — he’s cocky, loud, and impossible to ignore. but after one tense patrol and an unexpected kiss, you realize the line between annoyance and something deeper isn’t as clear as you thought.
a/n: hi y'all! i've been obsessed with danny lately and while watching the last tlou episodes i decided to write this. english is not my first language and this is based entirely on manny's character from the hbo series. enjoy <3
part two
You couldn’t stand Manny.
Everything about him – his cocky grin, the way he always had to get the last word, how he called you "cariño" even though he knew it pissed you off – made you want to punch him in the face.
Unfortunately, there was also no way you could avoid him.
Isaac kept pairing you two up on patrol. Said you made a good team and the results spoke for themselves. You hated that he was right.
“Morning, chiquita” Manny drawled as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, walking beside you. “You get up on the wrong side of your bunk again, or is that face just for me?”
You rolled your eyes. “Keep talking, Manny, and I’ll give you a reason to limp back to base.”
He whistled low. “Ay, qué fuego. I love when you threaten me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you can’t stay away from me.”
You didn’t bother replying. He wasn’t wrong – but he also didn’t know that the reason you didn’t report his antics to Isaac was because… well, you kinda liked it. Definitely hated it. But also liked it.
He was annoying. Cocky. Obnoxiously attractive.
And worst of all? He knew exactly how to get under your skin.
You were back at the base two hours later, soaked and sore. You peeled off your jacket in the hallway, grumbling to yourself when you spotted Manny across the hall with Nora and a few others. He leaned in, laughing at something, and then glanced your way.
Of course he smirked. You rolled your eyes and kept walking until Mel waved you over.
“Hey, come join us! Manny was just saying how you nearly tripped over your own boots today.”
Your eyes narrowed, and Manny leaned back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Don’t worry, I caught her” he added, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.
“Oh, fuck off” you said as you dropped into a chair. “You shoved me into that mud puddle.”
“It was a gentle nudge.”
Nora cackled. “God, you two are like an old married couple.”
You and Manny answered at the same time.
“Gross.”
“Eventually, maybe.”
Your head whipped toward him, and Manny just winked.
You tried keeping your distance, but he was relentless.
Always showing up at your locker. “Need backup, hermosa?”
Always teasing on patrol. “You gonna shoot that infected or just glare it to death?”
Always brushing a little too close when he passed by.
Then you were on another mission together.
You were trying to focus on it. Really, you were.
But it was impossible with Manny's constant presence at your side, always in your space, always teasing, always brushing against you like he was trying to get under your skin.
The rain had stopped a few hours ago, leaving behind a thick, oppressive humidity that clung to everything. The quiet, unsettling feeling of being out here on patrol was only amplified by the tension between you and Manny.
You were in the territory of a few too many infected, and while you were both experienced, it was always better to be cautious. But despite the silence, you could feel his eyes on you.
And, for once, it wasn’t annoying. At least, not in the usual way.
You stole a glance at him as you adjusted your rifle, his eyes briefly meeting yours. He flashed that cocky grin of his, the one that made your stomach twist with annoyance and… something else. You quickly looked away, trying to push down the feeling.
“Something on your mind, cariño?” Manny’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and teasing, and it took everything you had not to sigh in frustration.
“Nothing you’d be interested in,” you muttered, keeping your eyes forward as you picked your way through the overgrown path.
“That's where you’re wrong,” Manny said, his voice light, but something in it made your heart stutter. “I’m always interested in what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the faintest blush that crept up your neck. “You’re annoying.”
“You keep saying that, cariño, but I think you like it," Manny’s voice was too close now, and when you turned your head, he was right only a few inches away.
His breath tickled your skin, and your pulse quickened. You couldn’t let this moment slip, not when everything you’d been trying to ignore was suddenly right in front of you.
“I really don’t. I can't stand you," you said, your voice a little shakier than you meant it to be.
“Then why are you not pushing me away?" Manny shot back, his eyes locked on yours.
You swallowed, unsure of what to say. His proximity was making everything in your mind go blank, and it was dangerous. You couldn’t let yourself get caught up in whatever this was.
But then the world seemed to stop for a moment when Manny’s hand brushed against cheek, just enough for you to feel the warmth of his touch. You inhaled sharply, but instead of pulling away, you lingered there, just for a moment longer than you intended.
And that’s when everything shifted.
The sudden quiet was heavy, and the way Manny looked at you was different from anything you’d seen before. His usual cocky grin had faded, replaced by something deeper, softer. His eyes searched yours, and for once, you didn’t feel like you needed to look away.
“I’ve been trying to figure you out for a while, you know that?” Manny said quietly, the teasing tone in his voice gone, replaced by something far more serious.
“You trying to get under my skin, Alvarez?” you replied, voice strained.
Manny chuckled, taking a step closer. “Trying to figure out why I can’t stop thinking about you,"
His words hit harder than you expected, the raw honesty in his voice disarming you. You felt your heartbeat accelerate, the air thick with something unspoken between you two.
You weren’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly, his lips were on yours.
The world around you seemed to disappear as you kissed him back, your hands instinctively reaching up to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. Manny’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.
It felt like a breath you had been holding for far too long, and now that it had finally escaped, you couldn’t stop.
He pulled away for a moment, just enough to look at you, both breathless and dazed.
You swallowed hard, still trying to process the surge of emotions that coursed through you. The mix of anger, desire, frustration, and something else – far more complicated than you wanted to admit.
You wanted to say something sharp, something that would push him away.It was all too much, too fast, but you only stood there instead, heart hammering in your chest, as you realized one simple truth. You didn’t hate him. Not even close.
You didn’t say much for the rest of the patrol. The kiss hung between you like an electric current, and you both seemed to be avoiding it as best as you could.
Manny walked beside you as you went back, the two of you falling into an odd silence, but there was no denying that something had changed.
As you reached the gates of the base, Manny gave you one last look, his eyes soft and knowing.
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.”
Warnings: established relationship, suggestive language, steamy teasing, partial undressing, (bathroom antics), dirty talk, kneeling kink if you squint, lots of humor and chaotic boyfriend energy.
Summary: dinner? i hardly know her
part 2 (smut)
You’re only halfway through your finishing touches when you hear it. The groan. That dramatic, pain-of-a-thousand-suns groan that only one man on earth is capable of pulling off convincingly.
“Mami, what the actual hell,” Joaquin calls from the bedroom. “What is the reason. What is the REASON you look like that?!”
You grin at your reflection as you finish your eyeliner. “It’s called ‘getting ready for dinner,’ babe.”
“I thought we were going out for pasta, not to ruin lives.”
He appears in the bathroom doorway like a man defeated by beauty itself. Slouched, hand to his heart, mouth slightly open as he takes in the view — you, in your curve-hugging, can’t-breathe-but-worth-it dress, hair pinned up while you touch up the last bit of your makeup.
“Who are you even going on this date with?” he asks dramatically. “Because if it’s not me, I need to know where to send the ambulance.”
You roll your eyes. “You, idiot.”
He stares harder. “I don’t believe you. That dress is not for me. That’s a global threat. Homeland Security should be alerted.”
“Joaquin—”
“I’m just saying,” he raises his voice like he’s about to give a TED talk, “if you walked out like that in public, a man could literally crash his car. Just boom. Into a pole. Because you decided to wear… that.”
You fight your laugh, smoothing a hand over your hip. “So you like it?”
“I want to BURN IT.”
You cackle, finally turning to him. “Okay, dramatic ass. Can you help me with my heels while I finish my hair?”
He blinks. “What, like Cinderella?”
“Exactly like Cinderella.”
He drops to his knees so fast it’s like gravity yanked him down. “Say less.”
He grabs your heels and shuffles to the edge of the bathroom rug with the dedication of a man proposing marriage to both of them. “Are you watching this?” he calls, looking upward at the ceiling. “God, are you seeing how good I am?”
You laugh from the mirror, still fixing the ends of your curls.
He lifts your foot like it’s sacred, gently guiding the heel on with exaggerated care. “This foot is too beautiful for sidewalks. This foot deserves silk carpets. This ankle? This ankle should be insured.”
You snort. “Please shut up.”
He moves to your other foot. “You shut up. I’m doing something holy.”
You flick your curling wand off and shake your hair out, fluffing the waves. “Okay, I’m done. You can get up now.”
He doesn’t move.
You glance down.
Still kneeling.
Still very much behind you.
“Joaquin?”
He hums in acknowledgment, his hands now resting casually on the backs of your thighs.
You narrow your eyes at his reflection. “What are you doing?”
“Admiring.”
“You’re on the floor.”
“I know. This view is… spiritual.”
“Baby—”
Before you can finish, he leans forward, slowly, hands guiding your hips just enough to tilt you forward over the sink. You let out a surprised gasp as his mouth presses against the underside of your ass—right beneath the hem of your dress. Soft, warm, slow kisses. One, then two, then a light graze of his teeth.
“Oh my God,” you mutter, heart stuttering.
He murmurs something into your skin—something filthy and Spanish—and you feel it in your bones.
“You’re not letting me leave the house, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” he mumbles, now hooking a finger under the back of your dress. “Reservations be damned. This is dinner.”
You don’t argue.
You just reach blindly for the bathroom counter and brace yourself.
hiii do u think joaquin would get turned on when ure like ranting and mad HHAHHHHAHA likeee literally has u on his lap and looking up at u and u realize halfway ure feeling something poking uHM “and then— this isnt turning you on is it?” 😭😭😭
u could write this as a scene if u want to! 🫶
omg I looooove this request! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! 😝
Hot, Bothered, and Tactical
content warnings: mdni - soft smut with heart; sexual tension turned comedy/fluff; dry humping; making out; praise kink / partner worship vibes; light dom/sub undertones (consensual); post-mission frustration; comfort & emotional reassurance; established relationship
You were halfway through your rant, pacing across the kitchen tiles in a threadbare t-shirt and a pair of his old gym shorts, absolutely fuming. Your hair was still damp from the shower you'd taken to cool off, but it hadn’t worked. Not even a little.
“I specifically told them the intel was garbage,” you snapped, waving a spoon you hadn't realized you'd grabbed from the dish rack. “But did anyone listen to me? No. Because apparently, being the only one with a functioning brain disqualifies you from making decisions!”
Across the room, Joaquin was slouched in one of the kitchen chairs, his arms folded behind his head, lips twitching, just watching you with that same easy smirk he always wore when he was enjoying himself way too much. You paused just long enough to glare at him.
“Don’t look at me like that!” you hissed.
“Like what?” he asked, entirely unbothered, eyes glinting. “I’m listening.”
“You’re smiling!” you accused, pointing the spoon at him. “This is serious, Joaquin. We could’ve walked right into a trap! Lee pulled some real cowboy sh—”
“Language,” he teased, grin growing.
You groaned, stomping past him again, too full of adrenaline to sit still.
“And then! Then! After everything went sideways—guess who they asked to clean it up? Me! Me, Quino! The assholes asked me! The one they ignored in the first place!”
He hummed in mock sympathy, eyes trailing you like you were a tennis match and he was having the time of his life.
“Honestly,” you continued, breathless, “I should just let them eat it next time. See how they like it when—Joaquin?”
You stopped short because, mid-pace, he’d reached out and caught your wrist. He tugged gently.
“What?” you asked, voice low and out of breath.
“Come here,” he said with a small smile.
“I’m not done—”
“You’re sexy when you’re mad.”
Your mouth opened, but nothing came out as he guided you between his legs and pulled you down into his lap like you weighed nothing. Your spoon clattered to the floor. He leaned back, looking up at you like you were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. A little dreamy. A little reverent. A little too quiet.
“Keep going,” he said, voice low and smooth as warm honey. “I’m all ears.”
“You’re insane,” you muttered, flustered now, cheeks hot. “You are literally turned on right now, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer. Just gave a little shrug and tilted his head, as if to say what can I say? — and that’s when you felt it. Your whole face went red.
“Oh my god,” you said slowly. “This is turning you on?”
Joaquin’s grin stretched even wider.
“A little,” he admitted, completely shameless.
“You’ve got a hard-on because I was yelling about Lee and tactical incompetence?”
“More like because you were waving that spoon around like a dagger and looking like you were about to set the world on fire,” he said, voice thick with amusement and something else entirely. “I’m not made of stone.”
You stared at him in awe. He gave your hips a squeeze and said, very gently, “Please keep going.”
You narrowed your eyes and mumbled, “You want me to keep yelling?”
“Absolutely, mi amor.”
“You’re a menace, Quino.”
“And you’re so hot when you’re furious.”
There was a pause as you contemplated. Something about the way he looked up at you—smirking but reverent, cocky but needing—flipped a switch. The adrenaline hadn’t gone anywhere; it just… changed direction.
You gave him a look—equal parts exasperated and flattered—but your weight shifted slightly in his lap, and the unmistakable shape of him pressed hard between your thighs made you falter. Your breath hitched. His fingers gripped a little tighter.
“... can I still be mad while I make out with you?”
“Definitely encouraged,” he said, before pulling you down into a kiss that absolutely made you forget why you were angry in the first place.
Well, almost. You’d find that spoon later stuck under the fridge and realize you'd never even finished your rant, but you had gotten something better.
You leaned in, lips barely brushing his when you quietly asked, “You really wanna do this here? In the kitchen?”
Joaquin pulled you down until your chests were flush. His hand was cradling the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair.
“I want you”—he said in between kisses on your neck—“wherever you’re gonna take out that righteous fury on me.”
You kissed him hard then—fast and a little messy, all teeth and heat, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt. His hands roamed, slipping beneath your t-shirt and skimming the bare skin of your back. You rolled your hips on instinct and he groaned into your mouth, the sound rough and desperate.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Keep doing that.”
You did. Through fervent kisses, you rolled your hips slowly, deliberately, letting the friction build. The fabric between you was a frustrating barrier, but the tension was delicious. You broke the kiss just long enough to yank your shirt over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor. Joaquin's eyes dragged down your body like he was memorizing every inch.
“You’re unreal,” he said, breathless. “Swear to God.”
You grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Still mad, you know.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
You rocked your hips again—harder this time—and his head tipped back with a groan. He looked up at you like you were a storm he wanted to be swept away in.
“I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that.”
You leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “Then shut up and take me to bed.”
Joaquin didn’t need to be told twice. He picked you up swiftly and locked you in close to him with another quick kiss. His hands squeezed your ass, and you giggled as he jogged to the bedroom.
A few hours later the bedroom was dim, lit only by the golden spill of light from the hallway. Sheets tangled around your legs, the air heavy with warmth and the kind of slow, buzzing satisfaction that only came after being thoroughly and lovingly wrecked.
Joaquin lay beside you, half on his side, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder. His hair was a mess. His chest was still rising and falling a little fast. But his smile? That soft, ruined thing? It was all yours. You let out a long sigh and flopped your hand across his chest, eyes closed.
“Just for the record,” you mumbled, “I’m still mad at Lee.”
Joaquin laughed, low and husky.
“You tore my soul out and rode it into the void, and you’re still thinking about Lee?”
You cracked one eye open. “Tactical rage doesn’t just go away because I got laid.”
“Laid?” he echoed, mock-offended. “Babe, seriously? That—that was a transcendental experience.”
“God, shut up,” you snorted, turning to bury your face into his chest.
He kissed the crown of your head, his hand finding yours beneath the sheets.
“Seriously, though,” Joaquin murmured, “I love how fired up you get. You’ve got a look like you’re ready to fight God and win.”
You went quiet for a beat, fingers curling with his.
“Sometimes I don’t think they really listen to me,” you admitted finally, voice smaller now. “I can prove them wrong a hundred times … and no matter what ... they still hesitate.”
“I know,” he mumbled, soft and serious now, “but I don’t. Not once. Not ever.”
You looked up at him, and he met your gaze with nothing but truth.
“You’re not just someone I believe in,” Joaquin said, “you’re the standard I measure everyone else against. You’re it.”
You didn’t answer right away, didn’t need to. You just pulled him closer and let your forehead rest against his. And when he whispered, “Still mad?” with a teasing smile, you hummed.
“A little,” you said, “but it’s manageable.”
“Guess I’ll have to keep managing it,” he said, voice dipping low again.
You smirked, shifting closer. “Better keep the kitchen chair ready.”
“Shit,” he laughed, tightening his arms around you. “I knew I should’ve reinforced it.”
You stayed like that for a while—limbs tangled, laughter fading into lazy kisses and soft murmurs. Eventually, sleep pulled you both under, wrapped in heat and something gentler, something unspoken but understood.
By the time morning crept in, the chaos of the night had stilled. The kitchen was quiet—sunlight slanting in across the counters, soft music playing low from someone’s forgotten playlist. You padded in barefoot, hair a little wild, one of Joaquin’s shirts hanging off your shoulder. The spoon from last night was under the fridge, just like you’d suspected.
You knelt down to grab it, only for a pair of warm arms to slide around your waist.
“Morning, rage demon,” Joaquin murmured against your neck, stubble scratching gently.
You rolled your eyes, straightened, and turned in his arms.
“You really wanna start with that before coffee?” you asked, smiling when you kissed him softly.
“Just trying to gauge your mood…” He just grinned at you, unapologetic. “You know … for tactical purposes.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Tactical, huh?”
“Absolutely. Gotta know if I need protective gear or the chair again.”
That made you laugh—really laugh—and the sound echoed warmly in the small space between you. He looked at you like he was memorizing it, just like last night. Just like always.
“Ass,” you muttered fondly, kissing his jaw.
“Boss,” he corrected, hands sliding down to your hips. “Battle goddess … authority I fear and adore.”
“You’re such a dumbass,” you said, but you didn’t pull away. You rested your forehead to his chest, breathing him in. He made you feel calm, steady, and safe.
The mission, the frustration, the doubt—you knew it wasn’t over—but in this moment, tangled up in his arms and that smile that said you are everything, it felt manageable.
He nuzzled your hair and whispered, “Still mad?”
You sighed, letting it all out with one long breath, and then said softly: “Only at everyone who isn’t you.”
Joaquin chuckled, kissed your temple, and murmured, “Good. Let them try you again. I’ll be right here with the fire extinguisher. And maybe a helmet.”
“Idiot,” you laughed. You shook your head, grinning.
“Yours,” he said, holding you tighter.
And in the quiet that followed, you believed it—deep in your bones. Joaquin wasn’t just someone to lean on. He was someone who saw you, even when the rest of the world refused to look. And that? That was enough to face anything. Even Lee.
You don’t know who picked the movie, but it’s been playing for an hour and you haven’t processed a single frame of it. You’re sitting on one end of the couch, legs curled under you, a blanket thrown lazily across your lap.
Joaquin’s on the other side. Or, at least, he was.
At some point—somewhere between your third eye-roll and your fifth shared laugh—he’d ended up a lot closer.
Now his thigh is flush against yours. Warm. Steady. Comforting.
His arm is resting across the back of the couch. Not quite touching you. Just… there. The kind of closeness that feels accidental but you know damn well isn’t. His fingers graze your shoulder whenever he shifts. And he shifts a lot.
You pretend not to notice.
Your eyes flick to the TV. Some romantic subplot’s unfolding—two characters slow dancing in the rain. You feel Joaquin glance at you.
“That’s you, isn’t it?” he says under his breath.
“What?”
“The dramatic magic-wielding heroine. Only you’d bring someone back to life and scold them for making you do it.”
You snort.
“Please. You’d be the one making out with someone on a rooftop in a thunderstorm like it’s a Nicholas Sparks novel.”
He grins. Shrugs. Doesn’t deny it.
“Not denying it,” he says. “I’d make it look good.”
He reaches for the popcorn bowl in your lap. His fingers brush yours. Neither of you move.
You clear your throat. Look away.
The silence stretches—comfortable and unbearable all at once.
Then Sam walks in and stops in his tracks.
He stares for a long moment, arms crossed, head tilted like he’s tired.
“You two…”
“What?” you ask, too quickly.
“Nothing. Just—at this point, I’m assuming you share a toothbrush.”
Joaquin gives him a lazy smile.
“Only when she’s out of toothpaste.”
You elbow him hard. He huffs out a laugh, grabs his chest dramatically like you broke something.
“We’re not a thing,” you mutter, but even you hear how thin it sounds.
Sam just stares.
“Right,” he says flatly, and walks off.
Joaquin leans a little closer. His voice low, teasing.
“You sure we’re not a thing?”
Your heart stutters. Your magic simmers.
You don’t answer.
———
Your fists fly, your magic crackles, and the reinforced training dummy is begging for mercy.
You blast it with one last hit of red chaos energy and pant through a crooked grin as it sparks, smokes, and stumbles to the floor in defeat.
Joaquin’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching like he’s thoroughly enjoying the show. You’re sweating, breathing hard, hair clinging to your neck and forehead.
“Okay, well,” he drawls, “remind me never to piss you off in close quarters.”
You shoot him a sharp look, but your chest is still rising and falling fast. You’re flushed. Overheated. Magic humming hot in your skin.
He walks over, a towel in one hand and a water bottle in the other. You narrow your eyes.
“That for me or are you just flexing your hydration awareness?”
“Both.”
He presses the cold bottle into your hand, but instead of handing you the towel, he lifts it and gently pats the sweat from your forehead.
Your eyes flutter, caught off guard by the softness of it.
“You missed your calling,” you mutter. “Could’ve been a very aggressive spa technician.”
He grins, still toweling off the back of your neck.
“Nah. You just looked like you were seconds from combusting.”
“I am combusting. That’s kind of my whole thing.”
“Yeah, but this version looked a little less magical and a little more meltdown-on-the-mat.”
You roll your eyes and take another sip of water. He steps back—barely—and watches you like he’s memorizing something.
Then he says, quieter:
“I like when you let yourself get messy.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Messy?”
“Yeah. All powerful, untouchable chaos witch and still out here sweating like a mortal. It’s… grounding.”
You huff out a breath that’s almost a laugh. Toss the towel back at him. He catches it without looking, too busy watching your mouth.
You smirk.
“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna fight me?”
He steps closer.
“You want me to pin you down that bad?”
Your magic flickers behind your eyes. He notices.
“Careful,” you whisper.
“Always,” he murmurs.
And then you’re both just standing there, chests nearly brushing, heat rolling off your skin—and not a damn thing happens.
Because you step back first.
Because you always step back first.
———
Your room is quiet. Dim. The moonlight filters in across the edge of your bed, silver and cold.
You’re curled under a blanket, scrolling through missions and notes, pretending your chest doesn’t feel tight after today’s debrief.
The knock comes soft.
Once.
Then twice.
You don’t even have to ask who it is.
The door creaks open slowly. Joaquin peeks his head in like he’s expecting to get yelled at.
“You still up?”
You raise your phone.
“Aren’t you always?”
He grins and slips inside, closing the door behind him. His hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his forearms and his hair’s messy—like he’s been running a hand through it for hours.
He walks over and holds up his phone.
“I found three videos I know you’re gonna hate but laugh at anyway.”
“Only three?”
“I’m pacing myself.”
You scoot over. He climbs into bed like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Because it is.
This has become your thing. 3AM visits. Secret scrolling. Close proximity under the guise of shared memes and exhaustion. Neither of you talk about it. Neither of you have to.
You both know.
The side of his arm brushes yours as he tilts the screen toward you. Your legs stretch out beside each other, ankles nearly touching.
He plays a video.
You snort.
“I hate that you’re right.”
He glances over at you, and you’re too tired to hide the smile curling at your lips.
He shifts onto his side a little, propped on one elbow now. His face close. His breath warmer.
Your blanket is barely covering either of you. The silence stretches.
“You had a rough day,” he says softly.
You don’t respond. You don’t have to.
He watches you like you’re glass. Like he’s trying to read your mind. Like he wants to fix something.
“You can’t fix everything,” you whisper finally.
“I’m still gonna try.”
That does something dangerous to your heart. To your magic. To your restraint.
You swallow.
“Joaquin—”
“I know.” His voice is soft. Gentle. “I’m not asking for anything. Just… this.”
He shifts closer. Just enough to rest his hand lightly against yours on top of the blanket. His fingers don’t move. They just stay.
Connected. Unspoken. Real.
You both fall asleep like that. Barely touching. Dreaming the same thing.
———
Everything goes sideways in seconds.
You were supposed to move in from the north—take out the guards, secure the intel. Easy. Clean. You’ve done this a hundred times.
But someone tipped them off.
Gunfire rains from above. Chaos erupts. Sam goes aerial, shouting into the comms. Joaquin darts into cover behind a container, motioning for you to take the left flank.
You move—too fast.
That’s when the trip mine goes off.
A deafening boom explodes beside you. You don’t scream, but you do go flying.
Joaquin sees it happen.
He sprints through gunfire, bullets whizzing past his ears. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t think. He just runs.
You’re sprawled against a concrete barrier, coughing from the dust, your body buzzing with leftover magic that flared up to shield you on instinct.
“Y/N!” he shouts, dropping to his knees beside you, hands already on your arms, your face, your shoulders—checking for blood, for wounds, for broken bones.
“I’m fine,” you say quickly. Too quickly. Your voice is shaking. “I had it under control.”
You didn’t.
There’s a deep gash on your shoulder where a shard caught you. Your lip is split. Your hand is trembling.
“That mine was primed, you could’ve—”
“But I didn’t.”
Your magic pulses too hot around your fingers, unstable. You clench them into fists to make it stop. You won’t look at him.
“Y/N,” he says, lower now, more breath than sound, “you can’t keep doing this. You’re not invincible.”
You finally meet his eyes.
And the look on his face—pure terror, heartbreak, relief—it guts you.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispers. “Not like that. Not like that.”
You’re both breathing too hard. The fight is still going, but right now, this moment feels louder.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmur.
“You didn’t scare me,” he says. “You destroyed me.”
And you feel it—that awful, terrifying truth sitting in your throat like glass.
You almost died. And all you can think about is how it would’ve broken him.
⸻
Now she’s on the roof hours later, alone, trying to get her shit together, trying to breathe again.
———
The city is quiet.
Up here, above it all, the air is cooler. Quieter. The chaos of your thoughts doesn’t echo as loud.
You sit on the edge of the rooftop, knees drawn up, arms resting across them. Red energy flickers at your fingertips—nervous, uncertain, soft. Just enough to keep you company.
Footsteps.
You don’t have to look. You already know it’s him.
Joaquin settles beside you, legs dangling over the edge. His hoodie sleeves are bunched up again, and he smells like something familiar—clean and safe and warm.
Neither of you speak at first.
The silence is comfortable. Almost.
“You always come up here when you’re avoiding something,” he says quietly.
You smirk.
“You always follow me when I do.”
“Because I don’t like the idea of you hurting alone.”
That makes you glance at him. His jaw’s tense. His eyes are tired.
You swallow.
“I’m not hurting.”
He raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t say it, but you both know that’s a lie.
He shifts, turning toward you more. You feel the heat of him, the closeness. Your arm brushes his. You don’t move.
“You scared me today,” he says.
That makes your heart stutter.
“You got reckless. You took a hit you didn’t need to. You’re better than that.”
You glance down at your hands. The red glow pulses faintly. He reaches out and stills them—his hand gentle as it closes around yours.
Your breath catches.
“You can’t keep carrying all of it,” he says, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Even chaos needs a break.”
You meet his gaze.
It’s a mistake.
Because he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world. Like he’s been trying not to love you for months and just… lost the fight.
His eyes drop to your mouth.
Your pulse skids. You don’t breathe.
You both lean in at the same time—slow, tentative, like testing gravity.
Your noses brush. You feel his breath fan over your lips. His hand rises to your jaw, tentative, fingers grazing your cheek like you’ll vanish if he touches you too hard.
And god—you want it. You want it so bad it aches.
You tilt your head just a little, lips parted—
And then you stop. Frozen. Half a centimeter away.
Your heart is pounding. Your magic pulses between you.
You feel his breath catch.
“Don’t,” you whisper, barely audible. “Don’t care for me like this.”
He stills.
“Too late,” he breathes.
You pull back, slowly. Like it hurts. Because it does.
“I can’t give you what you want,” you say softly. “If I do… and something happens to you… I don’t know if I could survive that.”
He searches your face like he’s trying to memorize it.
“So what, we pretend this doesn’t exist? Pretend we don’t?”
You look away.
“We keep each other alive. That’s what we do.”
He nods slowly. But you don’t miss the pain in his eyes.
“Then I’ll keep pretending. If that’s what you need.”
You don’t speak. You can’t.
Because if you do, you’ll kiss him anyway.
———
The fluorescent lights are too bright.
The chairs are too cold.
And Joaquin is sitting too damn close.
You’re trying to breathe evenly, trying not to look at him, but his leg keeps brushing yours under the table and your mind won’t stop replaying what almost happened on the rooftop five hours ago.
His hand on your cheek.
His lips almost on yours.
That look in his eyes.
“Too late,” he said.
You haven’t slept.
Across the table, Sam Wilson drops a file onto the surface with a sharp thwap.
“This one’s high priority. We’ve got intel that a black-market transport vessel is moving refined adamantium off the Atlantic coast—”
Your stomach tightens.
“They’re skimming ocean territory just outside international lines, which means we need to get in fast, quiet, and untraceable.”
You nod, silent. Joaquin shifts beside you.
“The three of us go in aerial,” Sam continues. “Y/N, you’ll hang back until we ID the exact hold. I want you on overwatch until we breach. No showing off.”
He looks pointedly at you.
You smirk faintly.
“Define showing off.”
Joaquin snorts beside you. Sam sighs.
“Just stay alive. Both of you. The council’s already breathing down our necks about Wakandan metal, and I don’t need a damn rescue op on top of it.”
He looks between the two of you—like he knows something’s up but doesn’t want to deal with it yet.
“Wings prepped for launch at 0800. No mistakes. Questions?”
Silence.
“Good. Dismissed.”
———
The wind roars in your ears.
From your perch high above the vessel, you float just outside radar range, a shimmering red shield cloaking your energy signature. Your fingers twitch, ready. Watching. Waiting.
“Red, you copy?” Joaquin’s voice cuts through your earpiece.
“Copy.”
“You sure you’re okay up there?”
“You’re the one flapping around in open air like a glowstick, Torres. Maybe Ishould be checking on you.”
You hear him laugh through the comms. It softens the anxiety in your chest—but only slightly.
Then Sam’s voice comes in, sharp:
“Vessel identified. We’re breaching from the port side.”
“On your mark,” you respond.
Joaquin zips lower, wings slicing through the sky, and just as he banks left to take position—
A flash of light.
A missile screams from the hull of the ship.
You feel it before you see it.
“Joaquin—”
But it’s too late.
The blast hits him midair. His body spirals out like a comet, wings ripped, suit malfunctioning. You scream his name into the comms as he plummets toward the ocean.
“SAM, HE’S HIT—!”
Your body surges forward on instinct, red magic roaring from your palms as you dive. You feel your heart pounding in your throat. You won’t make it in time. You won’t—
Then you do.
You catch him mid-fall, slowing his velocity with a shockwave of pure energy. His body slams into your arms hard, but not fatally.
His breathing is shallow. He’s bleeding.
“Stay with me, Joaquin. Come on—look at me, look at me—”
You don’t know if he hears you.
Sam is shouting orders. Enemies are still firing. But you’re already rising with Joaquin in your arms, flying him toward the evac route. Every pulse of magic you burn hurts now, but you don’t care.
You’re not losing him.
Not today.
———
The med bay is quiet.
Too quiet.
Machines beep in steady rhythms. IV bags hang in still air. The scent of antiseptic clings to your skin like smoke.
Joaquin’s lying motionless in the hospital bed, chest bandaged, one arm splinted, a shallow gash across his cheek. The doctors said he’d live.
But they didn’t say when he’d wake up.
You haven’t moved in hours. Just sat there, unmoving, staring at him like if you blinked, he might disappear.
Your hand is wrapped around his.
Your magic hums under your skin, wild and aching, searching for something to do—something to fix. But it can’t fix this. Not really.
And that’s what breaks you.
You finally speak, voice raw, barely above a whisper:
“When I was sixteen, my brother died.”
The words come like glass in your throat.
“I thought it was the end of my world. And it was—for a while. He was the only one who really knew me. I trusted him with everything. And then one day… he just didn’t come back.”
Your hand tightens around Joaquin’s.
“After that, I stopped letting people in. I thought… maybe if I didn’t love anyone else, it wouldn’t hurt like that again.”
You breathe out shakily. Blink away tears that sting and blur.
“And then you showed up. Loud. Relentless. So damn bright. Always sending memes at 3am. Always making me laugh when I didn’t want to. Always showing up.”
Your voice cracks.
“You made me feel again. You made me want. And it scared the hell out of me.”
You swallow hard.
“I’ve been keeping you at arm’s length because I didn’t want to lose you. Because I thought if I never let myself have you, I wouldn’t have to feel this again. But when I saw you falling out of the sky today—when I felt you slipping through my hands—”
You stop, breath hitching. The tears spill now. You don’t stop them.
“It made me realize… I don’t just want to be close to you.”
You lean forward in the chair, clutching his hand to your chest like a lifeline.
“I long to be close to you. I need it. I want everything with you, Joaquin. The stupid 3am TikToks. The rooftop mornings. The flirting. The falling asleep in each other’s beds. All of it. I want you.”
You press a trembling kiss to his knuckles.
Your forehead drops gently against his forearm. You stay there, eyes squeezed shut, letting the weight of it all sink in.
And then—
A low, hoarse voice breaks the silence:
“I knew you loved me.”
Your head snaps up.
His eyes are barely open—just enough to flash that smug little grin he always gets when he’s won something.
“You’re the worst,” you whisper through a half-sob, half-laugh.
“Nah,” he croaks, thumb brushing weakly across your hand. “You love me.”
“You were unconscious. That doesn’t count.”
“Didn’t stop you from confessing,” he murmurs, eyes falling shut again. “Gonna hold that over you forever.”
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
You shift carefully onto the edge of the bed, your fingers still laced with his, your free hand brushing his hair from his forehead. Your voice softens.
“Just… rest. Okay? I’ll be right here.”
And for the first time in a long, long time, you mean it.
———
The lights are dimmed now.
The machines are quieter.
And for the first time since the mission, he’s awake.
Really awake.
You walk in with a tray—nothing fancy, just soup, toast, and a drink. But it’s real food, and the way his face lights up when he sees it makes something in your chest ache.
“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, trying to sit up.
“No,” you say, pushing his shoulder gently. “You are injured. Don’t be dramatic.”
“Me? Dramatic? Never.”
But he winces anyway, clutching his ribs, and you give him a pointed look. Still, he smiles as you help settle the tray over his lap and lower the bed slightly so he can eat.
You sit in the chair beside him, watching quietly as he takes the first few bites.
“Tastes like cardboard,” he says through a mouthful.
“You’re welcome.”
For a while, the silence is companionable. He eats slowly. You sip from a bottle of water. You think maybe this is enough.
But then he pauses.
Spoon halfway to his mouth, he looks at you—soft, serious, his voice quiet.
“I didn’t know about your brother.”
You blink.
“Yeah,” you say, looking down. “Most people don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
You just nod, a small motion. Your eyes sting again, but you won’t cry this time.
Then he does it.
With a quiet grunt, Joaquin shifts over in the bed, wincing but determined. He pats the space beside him—his palm gently tapping the blanket just once.
“Come here,” he says softly. “Please.”
You hesitate only a second before you move. Gently, carefully, you slide onto the bed beside him, sitting up straight but close enough to feel his warmth.
Your shoulder brushes his.
He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for days.
“I’ve always known I’m a hopeless romantic,” he says after a moment, staring at the ceiling like the words are carved up there.
“Ever since I was a kid. I wanted all the cheesy stuff. Dancing in the rain. Fighting over who makes the coffee. Falling asleep on someone’s shoulder. All of it.”
He turns his head to look at you.
“But with you? It’s more. It’s so much more. I want everything, Y/N.”
His voice breaks just slightly.
“I want to hold your hand when you can’t sleep. I want to hear you rant about your day. I want to spar with you even though you’ll win. I want to protect you—even if I know you could obliterate the multiverse with a blink. I want to show up. Be there. All of it.”
His fingers brush yours.
“And I want it all with you.”
You stare at him—barely breathing, barely moving.
Then, quietly, like the world is finally giving you permission to want this too, you lean in.
And so does he.
Your lips meet like a whisper.
No fire, no chaos—just warmth. Softness. The promise of something real.
He exhales into the kiss like he’s waited his whole life for it.
When you pull back, he’s still smiling.
“You’re gonna be hell on my ribs, huh?”
You laugh, forehead pressed to his.
“You’re the one who scooted over.”
“Worth it.”
You rest your hand on his chest—right over his heart—and whisper:
“You’re worth it.”
And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe it.
The livestream had been going for 56 minutes and 12 seconds, but who was counting?
You were perched at your desk in one of Danny’s hoodies—oversized and soft and definitely not yours—legs tucked underneath you like you always sat, surrounded by a half-finished smoothie, a candle you forgot to light, and three separate mugs (two with tea, one with coffee—you couldn’t decide). The plan had been to go live for thirty minutes. Answer a few questions. Recommend some books. Maybe read a bit.
That had been almost an hour ago.
"And yes," you were saying, waving a well-loved paperback in one hand while the other hovered near the keyboard, "this one made me cry like four separate times and no, I’m not embarrassed about it—"
You didn’t hear the door open or hear the soft steps across the hardwood.
You were mid-laugh when a plate of food appeared beside you—neatly assembled, still warm, complete with a folded napkin and your favorite dipping sauce on the side.
And then, like it was just part of his programming, Danny leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
The kind he did when you were curled up with a book on the couch. Or when you were brushing your teeth and he walked by. Or when you were half-asleep on a Sunday morning and he brought you coffee before you even opened your eyes.
The camera, angled slightly up, caught it—just the lower half of his face, the gentle press of lips to skin, the soft breath he let out as he pulled away.
You blinked, surprised, a smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head toward him.
“Oh,” you murmured. “Hi.”
He smiled—eyes crinkling just out of frame—and then disappeared again, slipping back out without a word like it was nothing.
The chat? Immediately feral.
“I SAW THAT. WE ALL SAW THAT.”
“HE JUST DID THAT LIKE IT WAS A TUESDAY.”
“I NEED A DANNY RAMIREZ TO BRING ME FOOD AND KISS MY HEAD 😭😭😭”
“THE DOMESTICITY OF IT ALLLLLL”
“NO SERIOUSLY I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE”
“IS THAT HIS HOODIE TOO?? I’M CRYING”
You laughed—full and unfiltered—covering your face with your hands as your cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable red.
“Okay,” you said between giggles, “so… apparently that was visible.”
From the living room, where you could hear the sound of him flopping down onto the couch and probably stealing a bite of your fries, Danny called out casually, “Only meant to be for you, cariño, but if the world’s gotta see, they better recognize the standard.”
“CARIÑO? I’M MELTING.”
“THEY’RE TOGETHER??? THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE NOW”
“I’D LET HIM RUIN MY LIFE IN THE SOFTEST WAY POSSIBLE”
You peeked at the chat again, still grinning, your voice going a little breathless as you read aloud:
“‘Danny’s the blueprint. Everyone else take notes.’”
You glanced toward the living room. “They’re not wrong.”
He didn’t miss a beat:
“I just know how to take care of my girl.”
“HIS GIRL???? OKAY EVERYONE BREATHE”
“I THOUGHT THIS WAS A BOOK STREAM, WHY AM I SOBBING OVER A RELATIONSHIP I’M NOT IN”
You tried to keep it together. You really did. But when you saw the next comment, you lost it.
“‘This livestream went from book recs to emotional damage real quick.’” You laughed so hard you had to lean away from the mic. “Okay. Okay, I need a second.”
From the living room, Danny called out again, voice softer now, mellow in that way he got when the day was winding down.
“Eat first, amor. The books can wait.”
You looked down at the plate—your favorite kind of comfort meal, the one he always made when you forgot to take care of yourself—and smiled.
“Bossy,” you teased, but there was no real heat behind it.
He hummed. “Only ‘cause I love you.”
You cleared your throat, trying not to let your smile take over your whole face.
“Alright,” you said into the mic, glancing back at the camera, “brief intermission while I eat the food my sweet, meddling boyfriend just brought me.”
From the living room, almost muffled now:
“You’re welcome, princesa.”
“I CAN’T TAKE THIS”
“THIS IS TOO DOMESTIC I’M GONNA CRY”
“he calls you princesa?? i’m unwell”
You laughed softly, head bowed as you reached for a fry and continued to chatter with your viewers on stream.
How on earth did you manage to bag a man like Danny Ramirez?
