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tomsparkyr · 2 days ago

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existence

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader

summary: There's a rumor at the base that MRs. Torres doesn't exist. No birthday parties, no drinks at the bar after a mission, no base run functions. Sam crashes at the Toress' after the White House incident and sees if she actually exists.

wc: 1457

a/n: Spoilers for CA:BNW

His ears were still ringing.

Echos of gunfire and police sirens shrouded his mind, Sam’s body was on autopilot with his eyes burning holes into the dirty apartment complex carpet and his sore feet dragging along it. He still doesn’t comprehend how Joaquin could be in a chipper mood after that. Sam noticed the limp in Joaquin's step and the bruise on the back of his neck. It could have been worse, the President could have died, Cap reminded himself.

“Wait till you meet her, Sam! Ugh, I have been waiting for this for the longest time!” he cheered, clearly forgetting the late hour. Right, Sam blinked, he was finally meeting Mrs. Torres. After working together for three years, he thought this mystery woman didn’t exist. The younger man would make excuses “She’s working overseas,” or “She has no service.” But after catching a glimpse at his lock screen which proudly displayed a photo of the pair at a Hurricanes baseball game he changed his mind. The rest of the base thought it was AI-generated.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, man,” Sam forced out a chuckle, ribs screaming back at him.

Joaquin stopped at the door, digging his key out of his pocket and turning the lock. The echoes disappeared once Sam took a step into the small DC apartment. The smell of baked goods and a soft “We’re home, Amor” coming from the other man was enough to silence them for a moment, the pain in his ribs dulled with the feeling of anticipation rising.

She was real. His brown eyes discreetly widened as she appeared in the doorway that divided the kitchen and living room, wiping her hands with an orange and green rag. He didn’t take his eyes off her, she examined Joaquin up and down before giving herself the ok to crash into him. “I’m so happy you’re ok,” She muttered against his neck, his arms holding her against him.

The soft interaction made something in his chest ache, and the way Joaquin then cradled her face and whispered reassurance in two languages almost made him tear up. Almost. He’d be sure to make fun of him for this later.

“Sam, this is my wife.”

The woman smiled softly, aware of the situation at the White House, and introduced herself, outstretching her hand. He noticed her firm grip, but he could feel the tremble. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sam. I can’t get him to shut up about you,” she chuckled, leaning back into Joaquin’s embrace.

“Nice to meet you too,” he said with a small smirk.

“There’s a pillow and blanket on the couch for you along with some clothes. Half his closet is just U Maimi stuff—I hope you don’t mind the colors.”

Sam turned around and glanced at the neat pile resting on the arm of the couch. “It’ll do fine. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome anytime. I’m going to get him cleaned up, let me know if you need anything else.” She patted her husband on the back and ushered him into the kitchen, dismissing all of his protests.

Sam walked towards the couch and ran his fingers over the plush olive green material of the blanket before picking up the vibrant green t-shirt. He snickered and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Shit!” a shrill curse came from the kitchen followed by soft apologies. It was instinct for the hero to look over and check out the scene. Joaqquin was fine, sitting on the counter with a piece of gauze covering his eyebrow. She stood between his legs, a look of sympathy on her face while she dabbed at the wound.

Love looked good on the kid. In their line of work, there wasn’t much room for love or even just the look of it on someone's face. He remembered the first night he saw it on Joaquin’s face; it was at a bar somewhere in Europe and Sam had been counting on his fingers how many girls the other had turned down for a dance.

“Five,” he laughed wiggling his fingers in his face.

Joaquin rolled his eyes and playfully shoved his hand away, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Wanna go for six or do you wanna tell me why you’ve said no to every pretty girl in this place.”

The curly-haired man took a swig of beer for confidence, letting out a deep sigh as he put the bottle back on the table. “I have someone back home,” he finally admitted.

“You got a little girlfriend!”

There was a small blush on his cheeks and a smile so soft and sweet it was sickening. “A wife.”

“Wife,” Sam repeated slowly.

“College sweethearts, I think that’s what it’s called.”

Yeah, love looked good on him. Sam snapped out of his memory and opened the blanket his eyes watching her press her hand against Joaquin’s chest with his wrapped around her wrist, his thumb swiping along the bone. His heart was beating, he was alive. Sam wondered if that was something they did after he came home from deployment, or now when he returned from a mission. Tonight was just supposed to be a fun night celebrating their mission, not stopping an assassination attempt.

“Sam…bro, you good?”

The couple stood in front of him, a red first aid kit in her hands. “Go get changed, I’ll patch up Captain America,” she smirked. Joaquin smiled and kissed her on the temple before retreating to the bedroom down the hall.

“I’m fine,” Sam laughed it off.

Her eyes flickered down to his arm, wet crimson staining a patch of his forearm. “Sit,” she told him firmly.

He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeve. Well, I’ll be damned, he thought as he looked at the sliced skin, it shouldn’t need stitches. She popped open the kit and got to work in silence. He should say something, the gears in his brain working overtime to come up with something appropriate.

“You know, I was starting to think you didn’t exist.” He settled on that. Nice going, Sam.

Thankfully she laughed, pouring a clear liquid over the cut that made him wince. “We get that a lot. We have a tally of all our friends who’ve said that.”

“Sorry to add another. Work keeps you away?”

She smiled and nodded, “I work for a charity. Helping communities rebuild after the blip. Some places haven’t been as lucky as we have. I was away a lot—it worked out when he was deployed.”

A sadness began to loom over her as she gently wrapped his arm with a white gauze. She missed him, and he missed her just as much. “Was?” he narrowed in on the past tense of her words.

“I requested a transfer to a desk job as soon as he finished those wings. I need to be here if something happens.” There was a tremor in her voice, “Him being Falcon puts him in even more danger. I want—need to be closer to him.”

“He’s a good man,” Sam told her gently, “a damn good Falcon, he learned from the best.” He got a smile and a small chuckle out of her relieving her of some of the nerves she carried.

She put her hand over the gauze and looked at him dead in the eye. “Keep him alive, Sam.” It was a gentle command. “He means everything to me.”

His lips parted and glanced down at the silver wedding band around her finger, thinking of a way to tell her that he might not be able to in this line of work. Joaquin saved the day, strolling into the room with a signature toothy smile. “Have you been talking about me this whole time?” he joked.

Her smile instantly brightened. “You wish,” she laughed, collecting her things from the couch and rose to her feet.

“She’s a miracle worker.” Sam raised his arm to show his partner the neatly wrapped gauze.

“Looks good, Sam!” The other man cheered, leaning forward to get a better look. “We don’t have a well-stocked medicine cabinet for nothing.”

“Yeah, I learned after too many scraped knees from the basketball court back in Maimi.”

Joaquin winced and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. “Let’s let Captain America get some sleep,” he suggested, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

“Let us know if you need anything, Sam,” she told him.

“Will do, Mrs. Torres. Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime. We’re here or you.”

Sam got comfortable on the couch, and surprisingly he felt like he could fall asleep instantly. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to his friends at the base: ‘Mrs. Torres exists.’

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tomsparkyr · 2 days ago

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Sleep Talking | Joaquin Torres

Summary; Joaquin could never keep a secret.

Warnings: none, this is all fluff

A/N: I couldn’t sleep until I’d put something out so yeah, this is just a real quick short before bed kind of story. I’ll get back on my asks/wips/part 2s of stuff tomorrow. For now, enjoy this. Also sorry I haven’t done tags it’s late and I’m tired so hope this finds you fine.

You woke unable to breathe. “Ouch, Joaquin,” you grumbled as your mind and body slowly dragged itself from sleep.

“Huh?” He grumbled sleepily.

“Baby, you’re squishing me.”

“What?” he groaned, but you could tell he was only half awake.

“Roll over. You’re squishing me. And you’re making me feel like I’m sleeping with a freaking radiator. Jeez.” you moaned as he shifted slightly and you truly felt how stifling it had become under the covers.

“It’s not me. It’s you,” he sleepily grumbled. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he grumbled another response. “No.” he said with a sigh as he rolled back over onto his back on his pillow. “It was you. I know you ate my sandwich.” he mumbled.

Sandwich? What was he- ohhh, he’s sleep talking.

You chuckled to yourself as you rolled over onto your side to watch him sleep. Every now and again his lips would silently move to talk again, but it was mostly silent. You were just about to close your eyes and go back to sleep when you heard the words, “Because I’m going to marry her.”

There was a pause as if he was listening to someone else speak before he said, “What do you mean who? Y/N who else. I’ve already got the ring. I’ve been keeping it in my underwear drawer for weeks now.”

You were suddenly wide awake. You didn’t know if it was just the dream or if there was some actual truth to it and his subconscious was bleeding through. But there was one thing for sure, you weren’t going back to sleep until you knew for sure.

You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could as you crept out of bed, reaching for your phone and turning on the torch. Your feet padded quietly across the floor as Joaquin continued to let out small little murmurs. Every tiny shift you made to open the drawer sounded like thunder in your ears and you desperately hoped he wouldn’t wake up and catch you in the act. You gave one last quick tug on the old dresser drawer and there it was. Barely concealed by a pair of underpants, a square blue box.

You stood frozen in agony as you warred with yourself over what to do. Did you look and ruin the surprise completely or did you pretend you didn’t know it was there and climb back into bed. But you couldn’t help it. Now you knew of its existence, it was going to be burning a hole in the back of your head. You just wanted to be sure he picked a good ring, you tried to reason with yourself. You could be a good actress. You could still look surprised. You tried to rationalise as your fingers pulled out the velvet box. I mean he’s asleep, he’s not gonna know. You thought.

“Baby? What are you doing?” Joaquin asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. You looked at him guiltily. This was no sleep talking, he was well and truly awake now, sitting upright in bed as his eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the light of your torch in the dim room. That’s when he looked at your hands. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Baby, I- wait, how did you-“ he paused as you continued to stand at the end of the bed frozen. Then he realised. “I was sleep talking.”

“Yes.” you finally said softly.

He groaned in frustration. “My mom said I could never keep a secret. I just wished for once I could have kept this one.”

“It’s alright,” you said.

“Did you look?” he asked.

“Not yet.” you replied. Your answer brought a soft smile to his face and he silently beckoned you over to sit with him.

“You know, I was waiting to do this on that trip to New York we were gonna take in a couple of weeks.” he began to explain, “but I guess this is good too.” Although it was dark in the room, you could tell he was beginning to blush as he took the box from your fingers.

“Y/N,” he said as his fingers deftly removed the ring from the box before he set it to one side. He tucked the ring into his fingers so you couldn’t see it just yet before he shuffled closer to you to continue his speech. “I have been in love with you from the minute I laid eyes on you. You can ask any of the boys, the second I saw you I said, that’s her, that’s the girl I’m going to marry. And of course they didn’t believe me, but I knew. You’ve been there with me for everything. Every hard day. Every promotion. You were always there to be my light and cheer me on.” he said, his voice shaking slightly with nerves. “You make every single day of my life, so much brighter and I don’t ever want to think of a day when you don’t wake up by my side. Y/N, will you do me, the greatest honour of my whole life,” he said, finally holding out the ring to you. “Will you marry me?”

It may have been 4am. It may have been in the dark of the night and extremely unconventional, but it was Joaquin. And you were always going to say yes to Joaquin.

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tomsparkyr · 4 days ago

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Nap time with you

Joaquin Torres x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Joaquin’s girlfriend can fall asleep anywhere, and instead of questioning it, he starts napping with her. Before long, it becomes their favorite routine.

Word count: 1012

Notes: no Captain America: Brave New World spoilers :)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Joaquin Torres was used to high-energy situations. Missions, training, and keeping up with Sam Wilson meant he was always on the move. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for dating you.

Because somehow, despite all the chaos, you could fall asleep anywhere.

At first, he thought it was a one-time thing. The two of you had been hanging out at his place, watching a movie, when he felt your head slump against his shoulder. He glanced down, expecting you to be watching intently, but—nope. You were out cold.

“Hey,” he whispered, nudging you slightly. “Did you seriously just knock out?”

You let out a small sigh in response, nuzzling into his hoodie like it was the most comfortable pillow in the world. Joaquin blinked, staring at you, before laughing softly to himself.

Alright, maybe the movie was a little boring.

But then it kept happening.

You would doze off in the passenger seat of his car five minutes into a drive. You fell asleep on a rooftop once, mid-mission debrief, and nearly gave Sam a heart attack. You even curled up in a booth at a diner after breakfast, resting your head on your folded arms like it was the most natural thing to do.

Joaquin quickly realized: you could nap anywhere, anytime.

And, well… that was kind of adorable.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

One day, after a long week of missions, Joaquin found you sprawled across his couch, dead to the world. You had come over to hang out, but somewhere between waiting for him to get out of the shower and picking a movie, you had passed out completely.

Joaquin just stood there for a second, hands on his hips, watching the steady rise and fall of your breathing. He shook his head with a soft laugh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured.

Then, without really thinking about it, he grabbed a blanket, tossed it over you, and instead of waking you up—he joined you.

He had meant to just sit beside you, but when he felt how warm you were, the exhaustion from the past week caught up with him fast. The next thing he knew, he was lying down too, pulling you against him, his face buried in your hair.

And damn, this was comfortable.

Joaquin had never really been a nap guy. He always felt like there was something to do, somewhere to be. But being curled up with you, listening to your soft breathing, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest?

Yeah. He could get used to this.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After that, it became a thing.

Joaquin stopped questioning it and just started joining you.

You crashed on the couch after training? He slid in beside you, pulling you close. You curled up in the Quinjet after a mission? He threw his jacket over both of you and knocked out too. You flopped onto his bed, stretching like a cat? Yeah, no, he was claiming his spot too.

“You know,” he said one afternoon as you both lay tangled together in his bed, “I think you’ve corrupted me.”

You blinked sleepily up at him. “Huh?”

“I never used to nap,” he admitted, running his fingers through your hair. “Now I’m out here dozing off at random times of the day because of you.”

You hummed, not at all guilty. “Not my fault you make a good nap buddy.”

Joaquin grinned. “Oh, nap buddy, huh? That’s all I am to you?”

“Mm.” You pretended to think about it. “And a pretty decent boyfriend, I guess.”

He let out a dramatic gasp. “Wow. So generous.”

You giggled, snuggling closer, your nose brushing against his collarbone. “Admit it—you love it.”

Joaquin sighed, kissing the top of your head. “Yeah. I really do.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

One evening, after a particularly long mission, Joaquin was the one who crashed first.

You found him sprawled across the couch, his arm draped over his face, still in his flight gear. His wings had been set aside, his boots lazily kicked off. He looked exhausted.

You should have woken him up, told him to change, maybe convinced him to eat something first.

Instead, you climbed right on top of him and curled up against his chest.

Joaquin made a small, sleepy noise of surprise but didn’t even open his eyes. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hand resting against the small of your back.

“Mmm… stealing my move,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Nap first. Talk later.”

He chuckled sleepily. “See? Corrupted me.”

But he didn’t complain.

He just held you tighter and let himself drift off, safe and warm in your arms.

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tomsparkyr · 5 days ago

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Hiii!! I was wondering if you can write a joaquin torres x reader enemies to lovers? Thank uu

Under Your Skin | Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: an afternoon of training takes a turn for the infuriating when you are partnered with Joaquin… but maybe he’s not as bad as you think

Warnings: fighting, angst, nakedness (no smut), kissing

Word Count: don’t know, a couple thousand, I wrote this in app

A/N: this turned into something. Hope people enjoy.

“Kahn you’re with Bishop. Chavez, Williams. Y/L/N, Torres!”

“Uh no! Not happening!” you called out indignantly, refusing to even look at the man Sam had partnered you with for these drills.

“Why? What the problem Y/N worried I’ll beat you?” Joaquin jibed.

“No,” you turned your head to look at him disdainfully as the others left the three of you and began to spar with one another. “I’m worried I’ll kill you?” you gritted.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned playfully, “I won’t let you.” You rolled your eyes as his words worked to irritate you more.

Joaquin was always so peppy and he ALWAYS had something to say and you were so over it.

“Oh I’m gonna try,” you said stepping forward, your fingers curled up into fists ready to lunge just as Sam stepped between you two.

“Alright. ENOUGH!” he stressed and you reluctantly backed down. “Now you’re supposed to be a team. So act like one. You think me and Bucky used to get along?” he asked the two of you, but neither of you would look at him or each other, let alone answer. “NO!” he stressed again. “But did we try to work together because we were on the same team?” There was another painful pause as he waited for either of you to answer. “Yes!” he said, finally answering the question himself. “Now whether you like it or not, you’re teammates, so you better start finding a way to work together. Or else it could be everybody else’s ass that’s on the line,” he affirmed, before he walked away, encouraging you both to work this out between you like adults.

Joaquin folded his arms and swayed back and forth as he watched Sam leave you to it. “Soooo, are we doing this or?”

You let out a deep sigh as you rolled your eyes yet again at your situation, slowly resigning yourself to it, before you stepped forward, reaching for his arm. You seized the opportunity, using his brief moment of unpreparedness to flip him over your shoulder and onto his back.

He let out a grunt as he went down onto the mat with a loud thud, a quick look of confusion washing over his face as he reoriented himself. “Okay, if that’s how it’s gonna be.” he grunted before reaching out for your arm, his ankles tucking behind yours to pull you down to the floor with him before he rolled himself over you to pin you in place.

You sneered as you adjusted your other arm to reach for his wrist, forcing it out the way to alleviate the pressure on your chest and give you enough wiggle room to fight back. You brought your legs up crossing them over his chest, his arms tucked in tight to disarm him and rolled you both so you were back on top and sitting on his chest.

“Ready to submit pretty boy.” you asked him as you used your whole body weight to push him back down into the training mat.

“Nope,” he grunted, “but it’s nice to know you think I’m pretty.” he said, flashing you his signature pearly white grin.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t need to.” he grunted again before he bucked his whole body and you had to do a forward roll over his head so you didn’t smash your face into the floor as the two of you became disconnected.

You both quickly got back to your feet, your chests heaving with the exertion of the tussle. As you took him in, all golden muscles and shiny teeth, you really wanted to smack the smug look off of his face.

“Come on then, Firecracker, that all you got,” he taunted.

“Don’t call me that!” you gritted at him through your teeth before you charged at him. You took a run and jump in order to get some leverage, climbing up his body before swinging your whole weight around the back of his neck and down, forcing him into a roll again, his back slamming down onto the mat as he was laid out. You quickly rolled off of him, reaching for his arm before manipulating him onto his front and pulling his arm up behind him as you pinned his chest to the ground.

“Uhhhgg, seriously,” he grunted into the mat, “what did I do to make you hate me so much.” You didn’t have an answer for him.

Technically Joaquin had never really done anything it was just his energy that tended to rub you up the wrong way. If you were a black cat, he was a golden retriever. He was high energy and happy and in everybody else’s business. You would rather stay in your own energy and keep to yourself and absolutely left alone. He found a way to make a joke out of everything. It never felt like he took anything serious and you always felt like the butt of his jokes. The easy prey. Little nicknames or backwards references to the others about your moody demeanour. And that was all before you added his suck up mentality with Wilson. ‘Mr all oooh I’m the new Falcon. I’m best buds with Captain America.’ Barf.

“No? Not got answer for that?” he grumbled into the mat as you pushed his face further into it, willing him to actually stay quiet for once. But it was no use. “Fine.” he mumbled before he once again rolled his body to buck you off. You both rolled, once- twice- until he had you well and truly pinned to the floor. He was sat so high up on your chest you could neither move your arms or legs. You were completely at his mercy.

“See here’s the thing,” he continued while he had you trapped. His captive audience. “I don’t think you hate me at all. I think, you secretly like me and I’m so far away from everything you expect to like, so you do everything you can to put me down or push me away. It’s easier to pretend you hate me, than to admit to everyone else that I’m under your skin,” he taunted as your wriggled beneath him, trying desperately to get free, but failing miserably.

“You wish. No wonder they made you the Falcon with that bird brain of yours.” you taunted back.

“Go on, keep being mean to me. See what happens.”

“Uhhhgg get off me,” you groaned, his weight pushing into your chest. There were rules about not using your abilities in combat training to make it fair on the opponents who didn’t have abilities, but you were almost at the end of your tether and you weren’t above burning his arrogant ass.

You knew he could feel your skin beginning to heat up beneath his thighs as a warning, but still he didn’t relent.

“Oh come on now. Just admit it. I’m under your skin.” he retorted.

You groaned and struggled again to be free as his thighs began to squeeze the tops of your arms harder.

“Admit it!”

“FINE!” you finally shouted at him. “YOU’RE UNDER MY SKIN! Are you happy now! Now get the fuck off me!”

As you both got up off the floor, you finally noticed all eyes had been on your little scrap. It was the final straw. You felt like something under a fucking microscope. “You know what,” you huffed brushing yourself off. “Fuck this.” you muttered before walk out the training room, wanting to go on a run around the grounds on your own to clear your head.

Who the fuck did he think he was anyway? You had been working with the Avengers longer than all of them. You were friends with Captain America long before Sam took up the mantle. You trained with Natasha. They had never even met her.

Your lungs began to burn as you headed towards the trees, your legs and arms pumping harder, your focus determined as you followed the trail you always ran. The leaves and twigs crunched under your feet with every thundering step you took, but the further you went, the better you felt. You had always worked better alone. There was no one else to second guess you or undermine your decisions or get in your way. No one to talk your ears off and distract you from your mission. No one you felt you had to keep an eye on. You only needed to worry about yourself getting in and out.

You did three laps of the campus before you finally called it a day, figuring it would have been long enough for everyone to have finished their sessions and cleared out so you could hit the showers in peace.

As you made your way through the training gym and back to the locker room, all seemed quiet and you breathed a sigh of relief. Left all alone you wasted no time in stripping off. You grabbed yourself a fresh towel and headed towards the showers in the back. Completely empty, just how you liked it. No chatting. No team bonding. Just you and the calming sounds of the running water.

You always ran hot due to your powers and having a nice cool shower was the best way to regulate you and refresh. You knew that fire that ran through your veins often escalated things for you. Knew it made you a little more hot headed than most. Sure you knew you had made a bit of a scene back there, but that’s just who you were and Joaquin knew that. Which is why he found it so easy to push your buttons.

“Just admit it, you’re just jealous of me.” his voice came out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of you. You quickly pulled part of the shower curtain back to see him stood just outside your cubicle with his back to the wall.

“What the? Where the fuck did you come from?” You spat at him, then a realisation popped into your head. “Were you spying on me? Just waiting for me to walk in here so you could see me naked?!”

“Shit! No- that’s-“ he began to mumble, his eyes growing wide as he realised how this suddenly all looked. “I didn’t mean- but yes I did- but.”

You raised your eyebrows at him incredulously. “Oh my god! You have got to be kidding me.”

“I just. I wanted us to talk. To work this out.” he said.

“So you thought you’d wait until I was naked in the shower to do it!”

“I’m sorry, I just. Sam is right,” he tried to defend himself. “We are on the same team and we need to be able to work together.”

“Oh my god! You’re such a kiss ass Joaquin!”

“Yeah! And you’re a stubborn fucking princess who doesn’t know when to quit the bullshit!” he snapped.

You took a step back. You were stunned silent by his uncharacteristic outburst.

“I’m not taking it back.” he said doubling down.

“I didn’t ask you to.” you snapped back.

There was a pause before he said, “Well what do we do now.”

You thought a moment. This was all getting so out of hand again. Gods, you just wanted to have a moment and cool off, instead you felt hotter than ever. You were so infuriated by him. What made him think this was a clever idea?

“Strip off.” You finally said an idea of your own coming to mind.

“What?” he asked stunned.

“You heard me Torres, strip off. You’ve seen me naked, only fair I get a glance back.”

He paused as he thought a moment, trying to work out if you were serious or trying to psych him out and scare him off. And to be fair, you weren’t sure if you were either. You’d seen him in his gym wear. Felt his muscles when he was fighting. You had a fairly good idea what he was packing under his clothes- but did you really want to pull on this string and have the full package burnt into the recesses of your mind.

“Fine.” he eventually relented, his fingers immediately reaching for the hem of his shirt before either of you could back down. He figured, worst comes to worst, hopefully this would be a good trust/bonding exercise. “But-“ he continued as he began to reach for the waistband of his shorts, “I do this, you have to pull the curtain back so I can look properly too. Deal?” he said, reaching out for one of your hands still clutching desperately to the wet shower curtain.

You paused to rethink this through as you stared at his outstretched hand. It was clear from the look in his eyes he was deadly serious and up for this exchange and you could feel that stubbornness prickling at the back of your neck. You knew you would never be able to live with yourself if you let him psych you out and get the upper hand now. Before you knew it, you were reaching out to shake his hand.

“Alright then,” he relented. His right hand moved back to join his left around his waistband and he dropped his shorts just as you let go of the shower curtain.

Oh shit, you thought to yourself as you finally took him in in all his naked glory. He was gorgeous. Toned all the way from the tops of his shoulders, all the way down to the backs of his calves. As your eyes trailed back up his body and met his, you saw the same look of trepidation reflected back at you. What had you both done? You didn’t know what to do now. You were so in over your head with this guy. But one thing was for sure, you couldn’t deny anymore he was well and truly under your skin in more ways than you’d have originally liked to admit.

He tentatively took a step forward, kicking his feet out of his sliders and discarded shorts. “Woah, what are you doing?” You defensively asked, immediately taking a step further back into the shower.

“Sorry-“ he said quickly coming to a stop. “I just thought. The way you were looking at me. I just-“

“You just what?” you said hesitantly, but although you were still on your guard, your body relaxed to match his cool and calm demeanour.

“I just thought that you wanted… never mind,” he said taking a step back. But as he began to step away from you again, you found yourself stepping forward to chase him. Stop him.

“No,” you said softly, needing to hear what he had to say. “Tell me.”

“I just thought,” he said, rubbing his hand through his hair, “I thought for second you finally wanted me back.”

“What?!” you said stunned. Wanted him back?

“Everything I said earlier…” he said, struggling to meet your eyes and you self consciously began to move your arms of your body to try and cover your modesty a little more while you had this, now, seemingly more serious conversation. He sighed, “Look I was projecting my feelings onto you and I’m sorry, okay? Truth is, you’re the one under my skin. I look for you when I enter every room. I live to see those rare moments when you actually smile. I fucking love it when you toss me around like I’m fucking nothing. Do you know how impressive that is?” he confessed with a half toothy smile.

“I’m the one who’s fucking jealous. You’ve worked with so many of the greats, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton- Rogers, even. I just, I wanted you to at least think I was on your level. I’m sorry if that came off in the wrong way. I never meant to make you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you quickly corrected him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think you’ve got way too much energy and pep for a guy who’s been in the service and seen way too much shit. I think you crack way too many jokes at inappropriate times. And your fangirling…” you let your words trail off as you pulled a face to let him know how awkward you found that at times, but you quickly softened your features again. “But I don’t hate you Joaquin.” You reaffirmed.

“But you don’t like me like that.” he quickly surmised and your bristled. It was subconscious and caught you off guard, your body naturally reacting to the statement before your mind had even processed what it would mean. You had never even allowed yourself to ask the question before. He may have been projecting when he said what he had said before, but you realised he had also been right. And then it hit you. All this time you had been having a crush on him, you just hadn’t realised that that was what you were feeling.

He hesitated as he watched you silently process those thoughts. His eyes watching every move of your face and body with precision. Slowly he stepped forward again to test the waters and this time you didn’t step back.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want me to do this.” he said, but you didn’t tell him to stop.

His hand lifted to reach out to softly cup your cheek. Your eyes searched his, trying to work out if this was really happening. You took a single steadying step back into the shower but you still didn’t tell him to stop and before you knew it, you were both stood under the cooling spray, but neither one of you pulled away.

“Joaquin,” you quietly breathed into his ever nearing lips.

“I know,” is all he said, before his mouth was finally on yours.

It was everything you never knew you needed. His fingers moving from your cheek to behind your head to pull you in closer to him and your hands reached out and instantly melted against his chest. His kiss was both gentle and hungry. Sweet but desperate and everything you had ever wanted. You sighed into him as he deepened the kiss and before you knew it, neither one of you knew why you had been fighting in the first place anymore.

You broke the kiss to take a deep steadying breath and meet his gaze before you could allow yourself to get too lost in it.

“Was that okay?” he quickly asked for reassurance.

“Yes,” you softly replied as you nodded your head.

“Can I do it again?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied once more and as he connected his lips to yours once again, you realised Joaquin Torres was definitely, most well and truly, under your skin.

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tomsparkyr · 6 days ago

Text

CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD SPOILERS 👇🏻

ARE YOU JEALOUS? 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

congressman!bucky barnes x fem!readwr

synopsis – bucky finds out that you're jealous about those comments that woman madd about him.

a/n – i hate her and her stupid fucking character better stay away from bucky. free palestine 🇵🇸

joaquin had taken a bad hit during a mission with sam, bad enough to need surgery and land him in the hospital for a few days. being in congress meant bucky had access to that kind of information, and as soon as he saw joaquin’s name in a report, he knew what that meant.

bucky walked into your office without a word, you barely had time to look up before he dropped a file onto your desk.

—good morning to you too, —you teased, raising your eyebrows and looking at the papers he just placed on your desk. then, you looked at him. —not even a kiss for your sweet girlfriend?

he looked ridiculously good in that black suit, broad shoulders filling it out perfectly, the fabric hugging his frame in a way that was almost unfair. his tie was just a little loose, and you had the sudden urge to tug on it and pull him closer. bucky sighed and stepped forward. his metal fingers brushed your cheek before he leaned down and gave a quick kiss to your lips.

you hummed and nodded. —thank you, —you grabbed the papers and opened the file. —you left earlier this morning, i wanted to have breakfast with you.

—yeah, sorry, this came up.

you glanced down at the folder, your eyes scanned the first few lines and then stopped. torres, joaquin – injured in action. bucky exhaled, finally moving. he sat on the edge of your desk, fingers drumming against the wood. —mission went sideways. he took a hit.

you stood up from your chair and went to sit next to him, close enough that your knee brushed against his. —how bad?

bucky sighed. —fractured ribs, concussion, some internal bleeding. they got to him in time, he’s stable but...

—and sam?

—got here this morning.

you closed the file, inhaling slowly to steady yourself. bucky was watching you, waiting for your reaction. you met his gaze and nodded. —then let’s go

before you stepped into the private room, you paused, standing in front of bucky. his gaze was fixed ahead, his jaw tight, he hadn’t said much since the moment you arrived at the hospital. he was trying to figure out what to say to sam.

—you're good, —you said quietly, —sam is our friend, he'd appreciate us being here. —your hand gently coming up to rest on his chest, fixing his tie, —you'd know what to say when you see him.

bucky nodded, his eyes met yours, but you could see the how his gaze softened as he let your words settle in. you stood up on your tiptoes and placed a quick, soft kiss right in the middle of his lips.

you weren’t wrong. as soon as the door opened, sam’s eyes landed on both of you. he looked exhausted, like the weight of the world had been pressing down on him, but the relief in his eyes when he saw you both was undeniable. he also looked at your fingers laced. last time you three were together, things were... complicated. bucky didn't know if he deserved a relationship and sam, being sam, wanted to be supportive but didn't want to rush things between you two. now, seeing you both standing there, so... together, sam felt relief that bucky had come to terms with his own feelings.

you hugged sam and then bucky hugged him. you asked about joaquin's state as you watched through the glass how the surgeons worked.

bucky and sam had the sweetest interaction, you let bucky talk as you stood next to him, holding onto his arm. as you predicted, bucky said exactly what sam needed to hear and by the end of their conversation you noticed how sam felt more confident. then, the phone in bucky's pocket buzzed breaking the moment. he checked the screen and sighed,

—i gotta go, —he said quietly. before he stepped away, he pulled sam into one last hug, holding him tightly. —take care of yourself, alright? —he murmured. once bucky pulled back, he turned to you, his fingers brushing your arm gently before he kissed you on the lips. —see you at home.

sam raised his eyebrows and looked at you when bucky left. —kissing in public, living together, that way he looks at you... you've got him wrapped around your finger.

you laughed and shook your head. you were going to say something but in that moment someone else entered the room.

—future congressman james buchanan barnes.

you frowned. who was talking about your boyfriend? leaning slightly, you peered around sam. standing on the other side of him was a small woman, sharp-eyed, impeccably dressed, exuding authority, but what did she have to say about your bucky?

her gaze was still fixed on the spot where he had just walked away, head tilted slightly like she was noticing something only she could see. wow, were you missing something?

—he's taller in real life. nice smile too, good amount of teeth. great posture.

—he's a 110, —sam added.

—and taken.

the woman finally turned to look at you, her expression unreadable, but there was amusement. she studied you for a second before offering a knowing little smile. —noted.

you got home before bucky did. you figured you’d cook something nice for dinner. you couldn’t share breakfast with him, but you’d make the most of dinner but even as you chopped vegetables and stirred the rice you were preparing, those words echoed in your head. great posture, nice smile.

you scoffed, gripping the knife just a little too tightly. yeah, no shit he has a nice smile. you’d spent enough time staring at it to know that. and his posture? sure, the man stood like he was built from granite, all strong shoulders and perfect stance—but why the hell was she the one noticing it? you wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type to get jealous. it wasn’t like you were insecure—you trusted him completely. but still… something about another woman noticing him, talking about him like that...

you took a deep breath, shaking it off. it was fine. you were fine. you had no reason to feel this way. bucky was yours. he came home to you, kissed you, held you when he thought no one was looking.

bucky called your name, shutting the door behind him. —i'm home.

—i'm in the kitchen! —you said trying to sound casual, even though you were still thinking about that damn conversation from earlier.

bucky approached you and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin rested on your shoulder, his beard tickled your skin as he murmured, —smells amazing.

you smiled, proud. —figured we didn’t get breakfast together, so i’d make up for it with dinner.

he hummed in appreciation, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

—how was your day? —you asked as he watched you cook. his presence stopped all the overthinking you'd been doing since you got home for a minute, his touch was reassuring enough to almost make you forgot completely about how the words of that woman made you feel. the way his exhausted body was molding into yours, like he needed you to keep him steady, it all made you feel just a little better.

—long, —he admitted, kissing your shoulder again. —meetings, calls and a whole lot of people telling me what i should be doing.

you hummed in response, —sounds frustrating.

bucky noticed the stiffness in your body almost immediately. you let him hug you, you acted like nothing happened, you even seemed to be glad for his touch yet your body told a different story. but he didn’t let go. instead, his metal hand slid lower, fingers splaying over your stomach while his flesh hand found your hip. —what’s going on in that head of yours? —he murmured against your skin.

—nothing, i was just thinking... it was nice seeing sam, wasn't it? we should invite him over sometime, hang out with him in another circumstances.

bucky wasn't convinced, there was something else, but he agreed with you. —yeah, it was good to see him. it’s been too long since we’ve had a proper catch-up, just the three of us.

you hummed. you couldn’t shake the feeling. you tried to push it down, but you knew you needed to ask. you couldn't hold it in any longer. —did you know that woman? —you asked, trying to keep your tone casual. —the one that came in when you left?

bucky paused for a moment before responding. —yeah, she's head of security of thaddeus ross.

you raised your eyebrows, bucky was looking at you, his chin still resting on your shoulder, yet you were focused on the rice. —she seemed a little too interested in you.

he frowned. —how so?

—oh, she mentioned your nice smile and great posture.

bucky was quiet for a moment, then you felt his chest shake against your back. he was laughing. —you're jealous, —he realized.

you pulled away from his hold and turning to face him, arms crossed, almost offended, not because he wasn't right but because he had figured it out so easily. —no, i'm not.

he smirked as he watched you with knowing eyes. those deep blue eyes. had that woman noticed them too? had she seen how they darkened under the dim lights of the office? or how they became even more shadowed after a restless night? you clenched your jaw.

—yes, you are. you’re jealous over a comment about my posture.

you scoffed. —that’s not— you huffed, shaking your head. that smirk remained on his lips, waiting to see how you tried to explain yourself. —it’s not just that! it’s the way she was looking at you, like she was mentally taking notes. and i know what you're gonna say, she was just doing her job, but she was not just doing her job when she called you well-built with a nice smile like you were some—some political snack.

bucky raised his eyebrows and then couldn't help a laugh escaping his lips at that, shaking his head in disbelief. ugh, he did have the nicest smile. —political snack?

—shut up, —you muttered, your cheeks warming.

he reached for you again, this time catching your waist and pulling you right up against him, his laughter dying down into something softer. —you’re so sexy when you’re jealous, you know that?

you narrowed your eyes at him. —not jealous.

—oh yeah, totally jealous, —he teased, grinning as he leaned closer, lips barely brushing against yours. —and so possessive.

before you could complain again, he pressed his lips against yours. your lips moved in perfect sync, this was exactly what you needed.

his mouth tasted like fruit, sweet and familiar. that damn tropical gum he always chewed. would that woman know that? would she know that he liked it because it reminded him of the time he spent learning himself again, reclaiming parts of his life he thought were lost? that he once moved heaven and earth just to find gum that tasted like plum? would she know that when he chewed peppermint gum, his lips turned pinker than usual because he was so used to the soft, sweet taste of fruit-flavored ones?

you sighed into the kiss, relieved to think that you were the only one who knew these things about him. your hands sliding up to grip his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

bucky chuckled against your lips, the vibration sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. he pulled back just enough to murmur, —you’re telling me this death grip on my shirt isn't possessive and jealous?

you refused to let go, using it to pull him into a kiss again. —it’s not.

his metal hand curled around your waist, sliding down until it cupped your ass. bucky pulled back again and you whined, annoyed. he murmured, —so if that woman from earlier showed up right now, you wouldn’t throw something at her? —his smirk was downright smug now, he was enjoying this way too much.

you rolled your eyes. —i wouldn’t throw something at her. i’d throw something near her. just to remind her what’s off-limits.

the smirk never left his lips. he slowly let go of his grip on your body, his metal hand dragging over your skin just enough to make you shiver. then, he took a step back. and another. his eyes never left yours, the challenge clear in them. —and if i walked into another room right now, —he tilted his head, —you wouldn’t follow me to make sure no one else was looking at your man?

you groaned. before he could take another step, your hand shot out, grabbing his tie and yanking him back toward you. he stumbled, his body colliding with yours. his hands instinctively landed on your waist to steady himself. —i wouldn't even let my man walk out of here.

your lips met in another heated kiss, his breath mixing with yours as your fingers tangled deeper into his hair. you felt him shiver slightly under your touch, his grip on your hips tightening as he pressed himself closer. his hair was getting longer. you could feel it, the way your fingers sank into the thick strands, how easily you could grab and tug at it. and god, you loved it like this.

he's taller in real life...

bucky’s hands gripped your waist firmly as he effortlessly lifted you, guiding your legs to wrap around his body. his hands shamelessly moved to your ass as yours went to the back of his head to deepen the kiss. he placed you on the edge of the table, the cold surface pressing against your thighs as he stood between your legs, his hands resting on your hips.

you started to lean back, pulling at his tie and guiding him down with you. his body followed, towering over you. his hands were on either side of your body, holding himself up just enough to keep from fully pinning you to the table.

—you really like this, don’t you? —he murmured against your lips.

you smirked, your fingers kept on tightening his tie, —like what?

his metal fingers squeezed the bare skin of your thighs, a low growl escaped his lips. —being a little brat, —he muttered, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down to the curve of your neck.

you shivered, your head tilting to give him better access. —maybe.

—you’re lucky i like it, —he dragged your pajama pants and your underwear down your legs with ease.

—lucky? —your hands slipped down to the knot of his tie, loosening it and sliding the fabric through your fingers. then, you skillfully unbuttoned his white shirt with urgency. you couldn’t help but moan a quiet fuck under your breath as you pulled his shirt open, your fingers grazing over the defined lines of his torso. perfectly sculpted muscles tensed beneath your touch. your gaze traced the scars along his shoulder where the metal met his skin as you pushed the shirt down his arms.

—very lucky.

... nice smile too, good amount of teeth...

bucky unzipped his pants as you squeezed his body with your thighs. he pushed himself inside of you without warning, you let out a loud moan and held onto his biceps as you felt how he bottomed you.

he smiled, watching your reaction. he then hid his face in your neck. —you really think i don’t know who i belong to? —his voice was lower now, rougher. his hot breath against your skin spiked goosebumps on your body. —you think anyone else could ever touch me the way you do?

... great posture.

you held onto his strong and broad shoulders while your head was thrown back, eyes closed shut, lips parted letting out the most sinful sounds. his flesh-and-blood hand moved to the back of your head so you wouldn't hurt yourself. his back was a bit arched, just enough for his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you every time he trusted into you.

you connected your lips with his as you swallowed his moans. your hands, without any shame, traveled down his muscled and tensed back until they reached his ass. you squeezed it, enjoying yourself and helping him to push into you.

—say it, —bucky said in between moans.

travelling up his tensed back, your fingers curled into the hair at the back of his head, tugging just enough to make him groan, you encircled your legs around his body and locked your ankles over the swell of his ass. you felt that burn sensation in the pit of your stomach. —you’re mine.

he exhaled sharply, pressing a slow, claiming kiss to your throat. his hands traced up your thighs, gripping you like he never wanted to let go. you felt his metal fingers closing a bit tighter, —and you’re mine.

you came digging your nails into his back, your legs around his body squeezing him and bucky let more of his weight settle against you once his orgasm hit him. his pace became faster and harder when he was close, his metal hand on your hips tightened, pressing you firmly against the surface of the table, and you knew that by morning, you'd see the imprint of his fingers on your skin. and you could't complain because you loved it.

even though you knew he’d hate. he never liked seeing the marks he left on you. he’d frown when he saw the faint bruises his grip had left on your hips, running his fingers over them with something like regret in his eyes. he’d mutter something about being too rough, about how he should be more careful. but the truth was that you craved it.

but as much as bucky hated to mark you, he loved when you marked him. it was a reminder that everything was real—that you were real. that it wasn’t some dream he’d wake up from, alone and lost. that he wasn’t the ghost of a man wandering through a life that didn’t belong to him anymore. and when he saw those scratches in his back in the mirror tomorrow, he’d know—he wasn’t just existing. he was living.

and when he saw those faint scratches in the mirror tomorrow, when he felt that sting as his shirt brushed against them he’d know he wasn’t just existing. he was living.

you pushed the strands of hair that were falling over his face and some that were sticking to his forehead as you both tried to catch your breaths.

—would you think i'm crazy if i say i don't want her anywhere near you?

bucky huffed a laugh, pulling out of you and letting you sat up on your elbows. —i’d think that you’re, in fact, jealous.

you rolled your eyes. —whatever. but if i heard her talking about your posture again, i swear i'll...

before you could finish the sentence, bucky pressed his lips to yours, cutting you off. his kiss was soft, but there was a quiet intensity behind it, a reassurance that you didn’t need to say more. —maybe there's a touch of craziness, yeah.

1K notes · View notes

tomsparkyr · 11 days ago

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One In A Million Series

*The image(s) I’ve used for the reader on the cover DOES NOT reflect what the reader actually looks like*

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Series Summary: After being cheated on, you seek to start a new chapter of your life, not knowing you're going to meet the best group of guys you've ever come across. Among them is someone who turns out to be more special than you can ever imagine.

Series Word Count:

Series Warnings:

Author's Note: this series is based on the TV show New Girl where Bucky is Nick and the reader is Jess. It'll follow the show loosely with some dialogue parts the same as the show, but I also wanted to make it my own as well. I won't be doing every episode, only the ones I feel matter to Bucky and Y/N the most.

Chapter One: The Beginning

Harsh Reality Moral Support Mistakes Were Made More Than Meets The Eye Less is More Candy Cane Lane Don't Stop Being You

Chapter Two: The Start of Something New

Chapter Three: In Different Places

Chapter Four:

Chapter Five:

Chapter Six: Reunited

Chapter Seven: Epilogue

257 notes · View notes

tomsparkyr · 11 days ago

Text

brother-in-law | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!parker!reader

summary: your brother peter tries to find you a boyfriend by posting an ad on instagram

warnings: swearing, fluff, suggestive content

a/n: my first smau + fic!!!! based on this fic by the lovely @pomegranatesarchive. fr it’s one of my fav smau’s and I don’t even follow f1😭

liked by mjjones, nedleeds, and others

peterparker: are you a young hot single in nyc? well meet y/n parker, my VERY single sister!! she enjoys cheap pizza, true crime, and long walks through central park! if you’re interested please comment down below…serious inquiries only!

view comments below

yourusername: peter wtf is this?!?

peterparker: I WANT A BROTHER! is that too much to ask for???

yourusername: NO!! JUST NO!! @/mayparker aunt may please take his phone!!

mayparker: sorry sweetie, but pete’s right. you’ve been really lonely and sad looking recently

yourusername: so the solution is to pimp me out?!?

peterparker: i will not be stopped

user1: i’m interested?

peterparker: no, too ugly

yourusername: PETER PLEASE

peterparker: i need them to at least look good in pics

mjjones: pete, y/n is going to kill you

yourusername: the bitch is hiding behind stark😡

peterparker: @/ me next time🤺

tonystark: please don’t drag me into this

user2: not bro literally selling his sister😭😭

user3: this is hilarious!

nedleeds: can you do this for me next?

peterparker: no you talk to people

user4: i’m interested!

peterparker: nah

yourusername: what’s the point if you’re just going to reject everyone?

peterparker: shhhh…let me work

yourusername: 🙄🙄

steverogers: what is happening?

peterparker: mr. america sir! are you interested?? y/n loves history! you’d be my first choice too!!

steverogers: uh no thanks…i’m too busy right now to think about dating

yourusername: not me getting rejected by CAPTAIN AMERICA in front of the world😭

user5: rip

user6: dude don’t you work with literal superheroes? ask them

user7: aren’t half of them married and in committed relationships?

user6: yeah but that still leaves the rest

user8: hey so this is insane!

user9: it’s kinda cute how much he cares about his sister

user9: weird too, but cute

peterparker: @/samwilson @/buckybarnes @/steverogers @/natasharomanoff @/joaquintorres @/mariahill @/wandamaximoff who’s interested?

mariahill: no thanks

samwilson: i’m good

steverogers: i already said no…

wandamaximoff: i’m dating vision so no

natasharomanoff: parker this is weird

joaquintorres: no thanks

yourusername: kill me now

user10: this was rough to read

user11: #savey/n from this torture

peterparker: okay, fine, i don’t care

tonystark: he cares

peterparker: on a completely different note @/buckybarnes i need help with a history essay. can you come over tomorrow?

buckybarnes: 👍

buckybarnes added to their story—>

[captain: what the fuck is a oligodendrocyte?]

story replies

steverogers: peter set you up didn’t he?

buckybarnes: he pulled the history essay thing

user12: omg is that y/n???

user13: peter’s post worked!?!

samwilson: man that kid got you good

liked by peterparker, buckybarnes, mjjones and others

yourusername: photo dump bc i graduate in a week!!!

view comments below

peterparker: no me?

yourusername: you lost post privileges after that stunt you pulled

peterparker: BUT IT WORKED OUT DIDN’T IT?!

user14: 👀👀👀

user15: who’s hand is that y/n!?!

user16: IS THAT ALPINE???

buckybarnes: the only person who can get alpine to cuddle

yourusername: i’m just chill like that😌

user17: HELLOOOO????

user18: fr like wdym peter was successful??

yourusername added to their story—>

[caption: 💐🤭]

story replies

user17: omg omg omg

user18: AHHHHHHHH

mjjones: peter is fangirling

liked by buckybarnes, mayparker, pepperpotts and others

yourusername: i graduated college!!!

view comments below

buckybarnes: congrats doll <3

yourusername: love you🫶🏻🫶🏻

user19: DOLL!?!?

user20: EVERYBODY STAY CALM IT’S HAPPENING

mayparker: so proud of you y/n!!!

yourusername: couldn’t have done it without you!!!

pepperpotts: congratulations y/n!

yourusername: thank you!!

user21: omg congrats!

user22: i feel like a proud parent rn🥹

peterparker: my favorite college grad

yourusername: bootlicker😐

peterparker: i take it back

peterparker: you’re the worst🖕

yourusername: love you too petey

tonystark: congrats kid

yourusername: thanks…now give me a job

tonystark: get better taste in men first

buckybarnes: that’s fair

steverogers: BUCKY

thank you for reading <3

935 notes · View notes

tomsparkyr · 24 days ago

Text

raw. next question.

1K notes · View notes

tomsparkyr · 26 days ago

Text

EYES ON YOU PART 2 ✧.* joao felix

part two requested by: @iwanttobeperfectwtfisthis1 part 1

pairing: joao felix x reader warnings: none

MASTERLIST

The café smelled like fresh coffee and warm pastries, the quiet hum of morning conversations filling the space. You sighed, wrapping your hands around your cup, letting the warmth seep into your fingers.

Lila sat across from you, chewing on a piece of toast with a knowing smirk. "So," she started, dragging out the word. "Are we gonna talk about last night? Or are you just gonna sit there pretending like you didn’t have a moment with Joao freaking Félix?"

You groaned, stirring your coffee just to have something to do. "Lila, it was just—"

"Just what?" she cut in. "A coincidence that he played like an absolute disaster while looking at you every five minutes? Please. That boy was distracted."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at your lips. "Okay, maybe he looked a few times."

Lila snorted. "A few times? Babe, he looked at you more than he looked at the ball."

You laughed, shaking your head. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? You were just a face in the crowd. Yet… the way he kept looking at you, the way he smiled so shyly—it felt real. And the way your stomach flipped just thinking about it? Yeah, that was real too.

You were about to change the subject when the café door opened, and a gust of cool morning air swept in. Lila, who had been about to take another bite of toast, suddenly froze. Her eyes widened comically.

"Okay," she whispered urgently, setting her toast down. "Don’t freak out."

Your stomach dropped. "What?"

"Joao just walked in. And he’s not alone."

You blinked at her. "Shut up."

"Look. Now."

Your head turned instinctively, and—oh. Oh, God.

Joao Félix stood near the entrance, running a hand through his already messy hair, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed but somehow still effortlessly gorgeous. He was wearing a hoodie and joggers, looking more relaxed than last night, but still… Joao. Next to him was Pedro Neto, who was talking animatedly while glancing around the café.

And then Joao’s eyes landed on you.

The moment stretched.

His expression flickered—first, a flicker of recognition, then something softer, something unreadable. His lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected to see you. But before you could react, his face went pink, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to play it cool.

Lila sucked in a sharp breath. "Did you see that?" she hissed. "Oh my God, he knows you."

Your heart was in your throat. "No, he doesn’t."

"Are you joking? He just looked at you like you personally ruined his life in the best way possible."

Before you could even process what was happening, Pedro’s eyes followed Joao’s and locked onto you. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face as he looked between you and Joao. Then, before Joao could react, Pedro shoved him forward.

Joao stumbled, barely catching himself before he nearly knocked over a chair. His face turned an even deeper shade of red as he shot Pedro a glare, but Pedro just laughed, clapping him on the back before turning toward the counter like he had nothing to do with any of this.

Joao stood there awkwardly for a second, shifting his weight like he was debating whether to stay or bolt.

And then, finally, he looked at you.

"Um." He cleared his throat, his accent thick in the single syllable. His voice was softer than you expected. Hesitant. "Can I sit here?"

Your brain short-circuited.

Lila answered before you could. "Oh, absolutely." She nudged your foot under the table. "Right here is perfect."

You shot her a look but couldn’t fight the smile forming on your lips. Slowly, you nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

Joao let out a breath, looking relieved but still a little shy as he pulled out the chair next to you. "Thanks," he murmured, running a hand through his hair again. He hesitated before glancing at you, his lips twitching like he wanted to smile but wasn’t sure if he should.

Lila, completely ignoring the tension, leaned toward Joao with a grin. "So. Fun game last night, huh?"

Joao groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Don’t remind me."

Joao shifted in his seat, fingers fidgeting with the edge of a napkin as Lila grinned at him like she had just won the lottery.

"So, Joao," she began, sipping her coffee dramatically, "what exactly was going on last night? Because I have never seen someone so skilled look that clumsy in my entire life."

Joao’s face, already slightly pink, turned a deep shade of red. He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh—I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lila gasped, placing a hand on her chest in fake shock. "Oh, really? So you didn’t spend half the game staring at my best friend instead of, you know, the ball?"

Your eyes widened as you turned to Joao, expecting him to deny it—to say Lila was exaggerating. But instead, Joao just froze, like a deer caught in headlights.

"I—I wasn’t—" he stammered, then shut his mouth like he had just realized there was no way out of this.

Lila leaned back in her chair, looking way too pleased with herself. "Mhmm. That’s what I thought."

Pedro, who had just returned from the counter with his coffee, snorted as he sat down. "Oh, don’t let him lie to you," he said, nudging Joao with his elbow. "This guy wouldn’t shut up about it after the game."

Joao groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Pedro," he muttered, voice muffled.

You blinked. "Shut up about what?"

Pedro grinned. "Oh, just how he totally embarrassed himself and how he was ‘probably the worst player on the pitch’ because he was ‘too busy looking at someone in the crowd.’" He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes twinkling with amusement. "I mean, I’m not saying that someone was you—"

Joao shot up so fast you thought he might actually combust. "Okay, that’s enough," he blurted, his voice an octave higher than usual. He practically lunged at Pedro, shoving him like he was trying to get him to shut up, but Pedro just laughed.

You could barely believe what you were hearing. Joao had actually been distracted by you. It wasn’t just in your head.

"You like her," Lila sing-songed, clearly enjoying how flustered Joao was.

Joao groaned, hiding his face in his hands again. "I hate all of you."

You giggled, warmth creeping up your neck. "I mean… it’s kind of cute," you admitted softly.

Joao peeked up at you through his fingers, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and hope. "Yeah?"

You nodded, biting your lip to hide your smile. "Yeah."

Lila clapped her hands together. "Well, since we’re all being so honest this morning…" She looked at you, then at Joao, her smirk widening. "I think you two should go on a date."

Joao choked on absolutely nothing. "What?"

You stared at her. "Lila—"

"No, no," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I mean, come on. The mutual pining, the stolen glances, the literal tripping over air—" she turned to Joao—"by the way, 10/10 comedy, you really sold it—"

Joao groaned, covering his face again. "Please."

She ignored him. "All I’m saying is, this is fate. You two should go out. Today. Right now, actually."

You gaped at her. "Right now?"

She finished her coffee in one dramatic sip, then stood up. "Yep. Pedro and I have, uh, plans—"

Pedro raised a brow. "We do?"

She stomped on his foot under the table.

Pedro coughed. "I mean—yeah, totally, big plans, very important."

Joao, still red-faced, turned to you, rubbing the back of his neck. "You… don’t have to, if you don’t want to," he said quickly, his words rushed. "I mean, I get if this is weird, I just—"

You smiled, feeling your heart swell a little at how nervous he was. "I’d like to."

Joao blinked. "Wait, really?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, after last night, I think we owe it to you to let you redeem yourself," you teased.

His face turned red again, but this time, he let out a laugh—soft and boyish, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Lila grinned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Perfect. Have fun, lovebirds."

And just like that, she and Pedro were gone, leaving you and Joao alone at the table, both smiling like idiots.

Joao cleared his throat, his fingers tapping against the table. "So… ice-cream?"

You laughed. "Ice-cream sounds great."

And as you both stood up to leave together, you couldn’t help but think—Lila had been right.

This was fate.

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tomsparkyr · 30 days ago

Text

"We're gonna get out of here, I promise"

pairing : mike munroe x (fem) reader

cw : mike has a gun, talk of death, and blood, and maybe like one swear I don't know. reader is referred to as mike’s girlfriend, but other than that i don’t believe any female pronouns are used.

a/n : i know this is kind of late since the until dawn remake has been out for a while but i kept procrastinating this after I started it. anyways #needthat.

The wind pulls at you from every angle, hair clinging to your sweaty, frostbitten cheeks. Adrenaline kept your body moving through the never-ending maze of trees and snow; you didn’t think it would last much longer. You were sure if you continued in this direction, eventually, you would reach the sanatorium.

It was marked on the map in the cable car station, the same map you had seen before you made your way up to the lodge with Sam and Chris. That was hours ago, and you wish you could go back and warn yourself to go back down the mountain. Or even better, ignore Josh’s email altogether and stay home. Play sick. You’d say anything not to be where you are, right now.

But that’s not possible, is it?

Your clothes are sticky with blood. Not your own, you think. You hope. This night was not turning out the way you had expected it to. And the choices you had made leading up to this point were beginning to make your stomach turn the longer you thought about them.

Why did you leave the lodge? You could’ve stayed on the kitchen floor after that psycho knocked you out; you could’ve pretended not to hear Chris’s attempts to wake you up. You could’ve looked for a phone instead of rushing into the snow to find Ashley. Speaking of them, why had you left Chris and Ashley? You could’ve returned to the lodge with them to find Sam after witnessing your friend be sawed in half, but no. You needed to know that Mike was okay considering you hadn’t seen him since you both arrived.

Why did you start that argument with Mike before the two of you had left for the lodge?

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“You're getting jealous over nothing. We’ve talked about this, there is nothing between me and Em. I’m with you. I’m in love with you. Why does this keep being brought up?”

“Maybe because she texts your phone like you're still close? ‘Text when you and the new gf get here, can’t wait to see you, winky face’,” you push his phone towards him. “She knows who I am, why does she feel the need to refer to me as the ‘new girlfriend’ as if we’ve never met? And why is she sending you winky faces? Why exactly is Em so excited to see you, Mike?” You make a point of emphasizing her nickname which seems to flow off his tongue so easily.

“You’re looking into this way too much. This is crazy, I mean come on, that’s how she texts everyone, baby.” He gently takes his phone from you, throwing it onto the bed and reaching back for your hand which hovers in the air. You let him, but you make no effort to hold his hand back, fingers only resting in his hold. A soft sigh leaves your lips.

“Yeah well, I’m not loving that she texts you that way and I’m also not loving the fact that you’ve said nothing to her about how weird it is. You have no problem defending her when you talk to me, so why can’t you say something to her about how I feel?”

“If I said something it would just cause a fight between me and her, or you and her, and the last thing that anyone needs up there, especially Josh, is for all of us to be fighting. Can you pretend to like her, only for the weekend, and then you never have to again.”

“You say that every time she’s involved, ‘just pretend to like her for tonight, and then you never have to ever again.’ But I will, because for some reason she is always around. I figured when Matt and she started dating we would see her less but I guess I was wrong.”

“Please, let’s just go and get it over with. We’re doing this for Josh, remember?”

“I don’t know, Michael, something about spending an entire weekend with your ex-girlfriend isn’t really appealing to me anymore. Call me crazy.” His eyebrows soften as you use his full name, especially in that tone. He is enjoying this conversation less than you are.

“Don’t be this way, we’re already packed and ready to go. Just come downstairs and get in the truck. She won’t bother us, baby, I promise. Come on..” He attempts to pull you, gently bringing your hand closer to him. But your fingers slip from his hand, dropping to your side. From the bed, his phone buzzes, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who’s messaging him.

“Sam told me she's taking the bus up there, I think,” you look back to him, “I’ll just head up with her so she doesn't have to go alone.”

“But then I have to go alone. And the bus leaves in like an hour, that's barely enough time to get ready and get to the stop. You're being ridiculous, just come with me. And if you want to, we can talk about this on the way up.”

You look away from him, missing the way his face falls as you turn your back to him. “I’ll see you up there, Mike.”

If you had just let it go, believed him, and gone with him instead of taking the bus with Sam, you would’ve never been angry with each other at the lodge. Or rather, you wouldn’t have been so furious with him because you would’ve talked things out in the truck, kissed, and made up instead of stewing in your thoughts on the bus. You wouldn’t be worrying about whether or not he was alive right now. But you were stubborn and foolish, and now you are trudging through the snow, improperly dressed, and praying the person you love is still breathing on this stupid mountain.

You cross your arms over your chest, preserving what little warmth you have left, and with every step you lose another piece of hope. All you can think of is him. And how, if he is dead, he would’ve died thinking that you were mad at him. You weren’t even angry, annoyed for sure but not angry, you were just being stubborn and taking your frustration out on him. Now you might never get to apologize. The thought makes your stomach churn and your steps falter as a wave of nausea overtakes you.

But, finally, in the distance you see the outline of a large building surrounded by a brick fence that appears to be falling apart. You allow yourself to be comforted, just for a moment, by the sanatorium's existence. The nausea in your stomach ceases as your steps quicken, arms uncrossing to move through the air. You reach the gate, blocked by the large pile of snow blocking both sides, not that you think you could’ve pushed it open in your current state; blocked from snow or not.

You let your hand trace across the gate's bars as you walk towards the side of the fence. The pads of your fingers sting from the cold metal but you keep them where they are. As you move, they follow, moving from metal to brick. The only way into the sanatorium courtyard, you realize, is to climb over the stone fencing.

A tired sigh leaves your body. You place your hands on the wall, palms stinging from the snow-covered surface. You lift your body, throwing your leg over simultaneously, climbing on top to straddle the snowy stone. The action uses more energy than you realistically have left so instead of gracefully landing on the other side of the wall you fall, directly onto your back. At least the pile of snow beneath you cushions your fall a tiny bit, but it still takes you a few minutes to recover your breath.

Using the wall, you find your footing again. The snow falls from your clothes as you stumble towards the sanatorium. You don’t even know what you were expecting to discover here. You figured there might be people here. Maybe a construction crew, getting ready to tear the old building down. A custodian, forced to stay and take care of an abandoned building. Or on the slimmer side of chance, a large group of stable nurses and doctors that would offer you and your friends shelter and much-needed medical attention. However, the closer you get, the more you realize how fucked you are. Nobody is out here. And it was stupid to believe there would be.

But you’ve come this far, and the chill that runs through your body borders on hypothermic potential. You reach the front doors, using your body to push the door open, shoulder first. It opens far easier than expected, and you fall to your hands and knees as it flies inwards. “Fuck.. me.”

You don’t move from the floor, the opposite actually, you get closer to it, falling onto your back. You don’t even want to get up. No one is here. All your friends are probably dead back down by the lodge. What’s the point? At least this way you’ll have time to think over every choice that led you here, it’ll take a while for the cold to kill you since your feet are the only part of you still lying outside the building. From farther within the entry hall you hear a door open, the sound of steps echoing through the empty building. And though your heart rate picks up speed, you don’t move. Instead, you pray that whatever it is, will kill you quickly so you can be with your friends again. So you can be with Mike.

“Who’s there? Whoever it is, just know I am armed and I am not afraid to shoot you. I have had one hell of a night and I am so not in the mood for.. whatever it is that you want.” Even with your heartbeat drumming against your ear canals, you still pick up the voice. A man's voice. Almost recognizable. You let your eyes close, murmuring the only thing you can think of like a mantra. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike.

“Holy shit. Y/n?” Mike? You turn your neck enough to see the man approaching. A sudden second surge of energy fills you, and you lift yourself into a sitting position to fully face the figure walking towards you.

“M..mike?”

“Holy- Oh my god, how are you- Are you okay?” He falls to his knees in front of you, dropping the gun and the lantern in his hands on the floor. His hands hover around you, scared to touch you. You notice that two of the fingers on his left hand are missing, replaced by a bandage soaked in blood. Your hands are the first to make contact, landing on both sides of his dirty face.

“Are you real?” He nods, pulling you into a too-tight embrace. A stark contrast to his previous concern and reluctance to touch you.

“Yes. Yes, I’m real. I’m so glad to see you. You’re alive.. holy shit I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“You look terrible” You wipe away some dirt from his face. Eyes wide as you try to convince yourself that he is actually in front of you. You had convinced yourself that he was dead, and now to see him in front of you alive and well - okay maybe not well but he’s not dead - it has your brain moving a mile a minute. There is so much you have to say. So much you have to explain to him. How do you explain to someone that his friend was sawed in half on the anniversary of his sister's death? Or how do you explain that the rest of his friends might ALSO be dead? And without sounding insane, how do you explain that you truly believe something is up on the mountain with you and that it might’ve followed you the entire way to the sanatorium? You can’t.

“Well, I’m happy to see you too, baby.” He laughs breathily, unsteady. A laugh of disbelief. His way of coping has always been humor, even at the most inappropriate of times. Your features are probably the exact opposite of his uncertain smile. You pull him close again, practically pushing him to the ground, but his arms wrap around you and he straightens his back to keep the two of you upright. “Woah, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

You push your face into his shoulder, saturating the filthy, green jacket that he wears with tears. It stinks like cigar smoke, years of sweat buildup, and dirt.

“Mike- Oh Mike,” your voice is muffled in his skin, pausing in between sobs to catch your breath. His arm wraps tighter around your waist, the other arm reaching up so his hand can rest in your tangled hair. “I’m so- I am so so sorry Micheal. I thought you were dead, I thought- I thought you died thinking I was angry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m just- I’m so glad you’re alive.” He kisses your temple, and as you raise your red face to look him in the eyes, he moves your hair out of your face. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Can you walk? God, you must be freezing. Did you come all the way from the lodge like this? Fuck, y/n, how are you even alive.” You shake your head, a silent confirmation that you don’t know how you’re alive either.

He helps you to your feet, taking off the unfamiliar jacket and helping you into it. He then retrieves the lantern and the gun from the floor, “Here, can you hold this up?” You nod, and take the lantern from his hand. In the hand opposite of you, he holds the gun, and with the other, he intertwines his fingers with yours. “We're gonna get out of here. I am going to get you out of here, I promise.” He’s so certain, and your fear almost dissipates completely as he leads you farther into the sanatorium with a tight grip on your hand.

228 notes · View notes

tomsparkyr · 1 month ago

Text

Confessions ~ Harry Lewis

summary: A video of you and Harry at Vikk’s wedding went viral and the rest of the boys are questioning you guys about it.

word count: 1k +

this is my first fic, so please be nice! 😊🫶

You and harry were sat across from each other getting questioned by the other sidemen about the rumors going around about you two fancying each other.

This came after a video of drunk harry and you dancing at vikks wedding went viral on TikTok.

The sidemen had decided to make a video about the rumours and to find out more about what had exactly happened, the infamous night 2 months ago. You and Harry hadn’t properly seen you since as you have been avoiding him trying to hide your feelings.

“Honestly guys, it's not that deep.” you thought trying to get this over and done with as soon as possible seen as though you don’t exactly want your personal life to be exposed on the internet.

JJ chuckled as he looked at the others who were trying to control their grins, he looked back at you, still amused as he questioned you, "not that deep, huh? The entire internet went crazy when that video came out".

Simon nodded in agreement while tobi, vikk and josh tried to control their laughter.

“Yeah so? It's the internet they don't know anything” you explain as there insistent questions were starting to annoy you, along with Harry’s silence.

Ethan looked confused, "but you were drunk and dancing with Harry all night and Faith swore that you too snuck off early". As he finished his sentence, Simon started laughing as tobi and josh snickered and vikk shook his head.

“Harry always gets like that when he's drunk”, thinking back to the countless times Harry held your hand when drunk and completely forgot by the morning, always leaving you with a twang of disappointment.

At that simon started laughing more, "so does he call you baby whilst drunk too? How about kissing you?".

With a shocked expression on your face you shyly say “he was just being friendly” not realising that they had seen that. You remember the day after when Harry apologised and said that it didn’t mean anything.

You had learnt not to get too hopeful when things like that happened. After the a thousandth time Harry explained to you that you guys were just friends and that he never meant to kiss you. You have had a crush on Harry for years and after countless hints he’s never made a move whilst sober.

JJ couldn't hold his laughter anymore and started cackling, "being friendly, i didn't think friends hold hands, hug and kiss eachother".

Vikk nodded as an agreement but he too was smiling and tobi started laughing quietly.

“Well you and Simon do it all the time” you replied sarcastically waiting to see the look on his face.

JJ's smile faltered as he glared at you, "we do it for the jokes, you two were looking at each other lovingly”.

“Harry, you wanna back me up on this or what?” you try to bring him into the conversation as he was just sitting there silently with a guilty look on his face.

JJ rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone, before putting on the video of you and harry. It showed a drunk harry twirling you around, kissing your cheek and laughing together

Harry was silent as he looked at the video, he remembered what he had done at vikk's wedding and blushed as he remembered how you felt in his arms

JJ smiled at the silent glances you guys shared with each other, "so just friends do all this stuff?" Harry stayed silent, trying his best to keep his cool but it was obvious he had feelings for you by the blush on his face.

Fed up, you explain “Well Harry hasn't told me how he feels so how should I know” , god this video wasn’t going anywhere if you had a say in it. You don’t want to make a fool out of yourself even more than you already have.

Josh shook his head, "how come neither of you admit your feelings for eachother? This has happened countless times and you guys have never done anything about it". You froze at this question as your heart started beating faster, knowing that you could admit your feelings and hopefully change the ordinary outcome for once.

“Harry??” you look up at him shyly through your eyelashes, not wanting to be the first person to say anything.

Harry froze as he heard josh's question, a little embarrassed as he looked and you and began to say "what if you don't feel the same? Or what if you don't see me in the same light?”

You silently nod at him which lets him know that you feel the same, wishing him to continue.

Harry looked at you and spoke, "Y/ N, i have liked you since the first time we met, please tell me you like me too” he exclaimed with a wishful look on his face.

“Harry, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that!” you excitedly say, going over to him to hug him. As he heard this, he grinned and blushed shyly at you, when he saw you stand up to go over to him he opens his arms welcoming you into his space.

The rest of the sidemen smiled at a shy Harry. JJ spoke excitedly, "finally! There is no drama anymore! We have proof of yous likin each other back" he says as the rest of the sidemen smile at each other and cheer.

You had forgot that they were there for a moment as you got lost in Harry’s warm embrace. As you pull apart, you quietly whisper up to him “what happens now?”.

Harry looked down at you smiling before he spoke softly, "im gonna kiss you, like i should have done years ago"

Harry slowly moved closer to you, a small smile forming as a hand reached out to cup your cheek. Your stomach filled up with butterflies as he gazed into your eyes before he gently pressed his lips to yours.

Your body tenses up in shock as his lips finally meet yours. His touch is soft and gentle, as though he is afraid that you might break, your lips move against his. His other hand moves to the back of your neck to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

You can feel his heart beating fast against yours as the two of you continue exchanging passionate kisses, deepening them with every moment that passes.

JJ explains to the camera, “and that ladies and gentlemen is how you make your two friends stop being idiots around each other.”

Harry and you just laugh at each other, at this statement. You then turn to the sidemen and say “thank you boys” smiling at them with a grateful look in your eyes.

instagram

yourusername posted

yourusername: happier than ever, can’t wait to have forever with you by my side 🤍

tagged: wroetoshaw

Comments:

user1: OMG ITS HAPPENING!

sidemen: watch the video of how we got these two together!

-> user2: you have it in VIDEO?

ynandharry4ever: my two favourite people finally together!

-> yourusername: thank you for the support!

-> ynandharry4ever: OMG YOU NOTICED ME!

wroetoshaw: the love of my life

-> yourusername: I love you baby 🤍

ksi: I made this happen!

-> tobjizzle: ^^

-> miniminter: ^^

-> zerkaa: ^^

-> behzingagram: ^^

-> vikkstagram: it was my wedding so you’re all welcome! liked by yourusername and wroetoshaw

-> wroetoshaw: I think we actually made this happen you know seen as though it’s our relationship @ yourusername

-> yourusername: no they made it happen, like when were you gonna make a move if not for them 😂

279 notes · View notes

tomsparkyr · 1 month ago

Note

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

…Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore.

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

-------------

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

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tomsparkyr · 1 month ago

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 ❤︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

a joao felix instagram au x fem reader

SUMMARY : y/n a instagram model has a secret crush on a specific footballer, what happens when he likes her post.

WARNINGS : no warnings just pure fluff

PAIRING : joao felix x fem reader : written in third possibly

A/N : please check out the book that I’m currently writing on wattpad as this post is kind of a spoiler 🤫

part 1 | part 2

liked by colepalmer10, marcguiu9 and 375,938 more

joaofelix79 great play today 🫶

view comments

marcguiu9 lets get itttt

joaofelix79 💪

user6 MARRY ME 🙏

user8 JOAO I LOVE YOU

user7 yall be glazing him too much the hell, he aint even that good..

user9 be so fr right now.. He’s better than you

colepalmer10 beautiful performances today 🫡

joaofelix79 yessirr

liked by yourbestfriend, joaofelix79 and 427,939 more

yourusername chill day I guess 👀

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yourbestfriend we indeed spoiled ourselves 😌

yourusername OH YES WE DID

yourbestfriend OMG WHO JUST LIKED YOUR POST.

user4 what the hell is joao doing in her likes 🌚

user7 sorry joao but she’s taken by me

user6 JOAO??

yourusername … I think I should leave now

user8 Lets just appreciate her beautiful posts

MARC 😛

status : online

HELLO MARC IM FREAKING OUT. DID YOU SAY SOMETHING..

M : I DIDNT TELL HIM ANYTHING I SWEAR 🙏 You were mentioned in our conversations though…

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY MENTIONED.

M : THEY SAW ME TEXTING YOU BEFORE THE GAME AND STARTED ASKING QUESTIONS.

And what exactly did you say. Better be good things 😒

M : They just asked who you were and I guess they may of stalked you..

Oh great.

M : BUT I SWEAR I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOU LIKING JOAO.

HE LIKED MY POST OMG. I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE IT.

M : I don’t really know what to say congratss?

THANK YOU.

liked by joaofelix79, marcguiu9 and 473,949 more

yourusername so we don’t talk about what happened.

view comments

user4 AM I SEEING THIS CORRECTLY

user6 NOT JOAO IN THE LIKES AGAIN

user7 AND THE CHELSEA GAME ON THE TV 👀

user8 ARE WE MISSING SOMETHING.

yourbestfriend oh me oh my.

yourusername AGREED

marcguiu9 hey bestie 😝

user11 NOT MARC LMAO

one new notification

“joaofelix79 has followed you.”

Oh my gosh.

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tomsparkyr · 2 months ago

Text

⋆₊˚⊹♡

“Who is this gorgeous blonde in the front here?” Sabrina asks as the camera pans directly to Drew, showing him on the big screen on the stage. To no surprise, the crowd erupts into screams— no doubt the loudest screams heard all night.

“Ohhh,” Sabrina drawls seductively, “hey!”

You watch intently as Drew waves at her and you can’t help but blush watching her twirl the pink, fuzzy handcuffs around her delicate finger. The group of girls seated by you two are squealing and giggling loudly. You’re buzzing with excitement and you’re not sure who you’re more jealous of: your boyfriend or Sabrina.

“Well, this is kind of awkward,” she continues, “I’m not really into kooks…”

You didn’t know it was possible, but the sea of screaming girls gets even louder.

“If only there was a beautiful girl from the cut here,” she jokes with a pout, leaving you in awe; you weren’t even aware she watched the show, let alone knew the lingo. That’s when the camera instantly pans to you and Drew takes a step back, pointing at you enthusiastically.

“No way,” Sabrina begins, “there is!”

“What’s your name?” she asks you.

“Me?” You question, feigning innocence, “y/n!”

“Oh my God, my clothes just fell off, y/n! I was thinking about us,” she giggles into the mic while the intro to “Juno” begins to play.

“Will you be my Juno girl, y/n?” she asks as she passes the handcuffs to be given toyou.

You nod your head with enthusiasm as the crowd cheers and the lights begin to dim. Drew is back behind you again, his full weight pressed against you and his breath hot on your skin.

“Whatever position she chooses at the end, we’re doing it.”

You didn’t even know he knew about that. Tonight was full of surprises.

“Drew—” you giggle as he playfully grabs at your waist.

“I’m serious,” he says as his hand moves down to smack and squeeze the swell of you ass.

Best night ever.

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tomsparkyr · 2 months ago

Text

Harry Potter Headcanon ||18+

Harry James Potter as Your Boyfriend

(୨୧) That Stupid Cute Look - He’s the kind of guy who gets flustered over the tiniest things, like you saying “I love you” for the first time, and he’s all wide-eyed like “Wait, you do?” (His face when he’s trying to process his feelings is pure heart-melting adorableness). You could just say “Hi” and he’s already blushing.

(୨୧) Protective, but in the Dumbest Ways He might try to protect you, but it comes out in the dumbest ways possible. Like that time he stepped in front of you to block a hex, even though you could have dodged it just fine. (You: “I’m literally a witch too, Harry.” Him: “I know. But you’re my witch.”)

(୨୧) The Awkward PDA He’s not great at showing affection in public, but when he does, it’s either accidental or he’s so shy about it that it ends up looking like the cutest thing ever. Like grabbing your hand when he’s scared or pulling you in for a hug, then quickly letting go like “Was that okay?” “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”

(୨୧) The Secret Softie Harry has a lot of inner turmoil, but with you, he’s the softest. He’ll pick you up a random book he knows you’ll love, just because he’s seen you reading about a topic once and now he wants to know you. He probably can’t even admit to himself how much he’d love to just curl up next to you and fall asleep. (That’s totally a boyfriend move, right?).

(୨୧) Harry's 'I'm Not Jealous' But Totally Is He’s the type to get all jealous when some dude tries talking to you, but he’s too nice and oblivious to show it properly. He’s probably lowkey eyeing the guy, but pretending to look at something else, hoping you won’t catch on to how possessive he’s being. (Meanwhile, he’s about to hex someone for looking at you too long). The poor guy thought that you would leave him for someone better. (Meanwhile him being the best)

(୨୧) The Bedroom Eyes Don’t let his dorkiness fool you; when he really gets in the mood, his eyes change—like a stormy night, all intense and full of intent. He’s the kind of guy who whispers your name before he kisses you, just right before he pulls you closer, one hand in your hair. (Okay, but imagine him lowkey whispering some dirty shit in your ear, like “I want you splayed out on the table like my own personal feast.”)

(୨୧) The Protective Lover Let’s be real: Harry’s dangerous when he’s protective. Like, you’re in trouble? You better believe he’s about to go full rage-mode on anyone who dares harm you. And if he’s feeling super spicy? (Well, let’s just say you’d love to be pinned against a wall by those saviour arms.)

(୨୧) The Sensitive Boyfriend - He’ll listen to your problems like you’re the most important person in the world. You’re ranting about some dumb thing at work, and he’s just sitting there, nodding along, fully invested, even though half the time he doesn’t fully understand what you’re saying. He’s a good listener—and a better lover when it’s time to just show you he’s there for you. (When you feel like absolute shit, he’ll show up with snacks, a blanket, and the softest way of reminding you how much he loves you).

(୨୧) The Choking - Okay, I’m not saying he’s into choking, but like, he’s the type to tease you just a little bit. He’d never go overboard, but during that heated moment where you’re both struggling for control, he’d totally be that guy to grip your throat just enough to have you gasping, all while looking at you with that smirk like “You like that, don’t you?” (Honestly, he could probably make you lose your mind with that sort of thing).

(୨୧) The "I'm Not That Into You" Lie - If Harry ever said something like “I’m not that into you,” you’d be laughing and pulling him closer, because you know he’s lying. This man is obsessed with you, he just doesn’t know how to say it without feeling too exposed. (But the way he holds you in bed? No words needed, babe.)

(୨୧) The Honest Kisses - Every kiss feels like he’s giving you his soul. It's slow, tender, like he wants to savor the moment. But the second you start tugging at him, Harry’s turning up the heat—he’s kissing you harder, hands roaming because now that he’s sure you're his, he’s all in.

(୨୧) Clumsy in the Best Way - He’s constantly tripping over his own feet, knocking over glasses, and totally embarrassing himself, but in the best, most adorable way. (You’d just laugh and let him pull you in for a messy kiss, the two of you tangled up, both trying to get the other’s shirt off). So. Cute.

(୨୧) The Sweetness You Don’t Expect - For all his bravado, Harry’s the guy who remembers the little things. Like your favorite candy, the song you hum when you're happy, or that time you mentioned how you love the smell of the rain. And one day, poof, he shows up with it, looking shy but satisfied because he’s made you smile. (All the little things just make you want him even more).

(୨୧) Emotionally constipated but trying. Harry’s feelings hit him like a freight train, and he’s not great at expressing them. He’ll stare at you for an embarrassingly long time before blurting, “You’re...really important to me,” in that awkward, raspy voice. And you’re just like, “Harry, are you malfunctioning again?”

(୨୧) Domestic Harry is a gift from Merlin himself. This boy? In a t-shirt that’s a little too tight across the chest and low-hanging sweatpants while making tea in the morning? Yeah, it’s a religious experience. (Feel free to pray to Harry’s holy forearms; they deserve worship.)

(୨୧) Hot, awkward sex god vibes. Harry doesn’t know how sexy he is, which somehow makes him hotter. His hands? Big and calloused from Quidditch, and the way they grab your hips? Game over. And don’t get me started on his voice—low and raspy when he says, “Come here.” Like, YES, SIR, TAKE ME NOW.

(୨୧) Sweet but dumb declarations of love. “I think I’ve loved you since you laughed at me for falling off my broom that one time.” Like, WHAT?? (You’ll laugh, but it’s also the cutest thing ever because Harry’s love language is sincerity, and it hurts.)

(୨୧) The way he looks at you? WHEW. Those green eyes aren’t just legendary for killing Voldemort; they’re also designed to melt your soul. He’ll glance at you mid-laugh, and you’re left thinking, “Oh, so this is why people write ballads about love.”

(୨୧) That hair. Listen, Harry’s hair is a mess, but the sexy kind of mess. You’d spend hours just tugging on it (and yes, he loves that). Plus, post-Quidditch Harry with sweat-slicked hair and flushed cheeks? Yeah, good luck staying upright.

(୨୧) Harry James Potter is your personal furnace. He runs hot—like, physically. Which means winter nights = you wrapped in his arms, snug as hell. And yes, he’ll mumble sleepy, incoherent things about how perfect you are.

(୨୧) He’s a dork, and we love that man. Tripping over his own feet when you kiss him? Yes. Making bad puns in stressful situations? Also yes. Saying, “I’m not scared,” before screaming when a bug jumps? Oh, Harry. We’ll protect that boy forever.

(୨୧) Your forever hero. At the end of the day, Harry isn’t just The Chosen One—he’s your chosen one. He might be awkward, overprotective, and emotionally clueless, but he’ll love you with everything he has. And that’s more than enough.

Now the next part is gonna be spicy. (Not too much since I am feeling more romantic than horny)

(୨୧)The Unexpected Confidence - Harry might seem shy and unsure at first, but the second things start to heat up, something shifts. It’s like all that bottled-up Gryffindor bravery comes out, and suddenly, his kisses are rougher, his grip stronger, and he’s growling your name like he’s been dying to claim you.

(୨୧) The Messy, Hungry Kisser - He kisses like he’s starving, messy and desperate, pulling you closer like he can’t stand even an inch of space between you. His hands? Oh, they’re everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt, tangling in your hair like he needs to touch all of you at once.

(୨୧) Soft dom Energy - Harry isn’t the full-blown "do as I say" type, but he has this soft dominance that makes you melt. Like when he grabs your chin and tilts your head back to kiss you deeply, or when he murmurs, “Good girl, just like that,” while you’re doing something that’s very not innocent.

(୨୧) Possessive in the Hottest Way - He might not realize it, but Harry’s possessiveness shows when things get intense. He loves leaving marks—bites on your collarbone, bruises on your hips—and the way his name spills out of your mouth? That’s his favorite sound. He’ll whisper, “Say it louder.”

(୨୧) Clothes-Ripping Chaos - He’s not patient when he’s turned on. Buttons go flying, your shirt’s halfway ripped off, and he’s mumbling apologies between kisses because “I just can’t wait anymore.” (Honestly, you’re not complaining because watching him lose control is a whole mood.)

(୨୧) The Way He Uses His Mouth - Let’s talk about Harry going down. He’s the type to spend hours down there, holding your thighs open with a firm grip, moaning like he loves every second of it. He looks so good between your legs, messy hair and flushed cheeks, and he’ll glance up at you with that boyish grin before diving back in like a man on a mission.

(୨୧) The Dirty Talk Surprise - You’d never expect it, but Harry’s got a filthy mouth when he’s turned on. He’ll whisper things like, “You’re so beautiful like this,” or “You’re going to be a good girl for me, right?” And if you beg? Oh, he’s hooked. Hearing you plead for him is the ultimate turn-on.

(୨୧) The Strength You Forget He Has - Harry might not look it, but Quidditch has given him some serious strength. He can pin you to the wall, lift you up like it’s nothing, or press you down into the mattress with a grip that makes you feel completely at his mercy. And that little smirk he gives when he realizes you like it? Deadly.

(୨୧) The Slow Tease - Sometimes he likes to take his time, dragging his hands and mouth over every inch of your body, just to hear you whimper. He’ll kiss your neck, your chest, your stomach, going achingly slow until you’re practically begging him to move faster. (Spoiler: He loves hearing you beg.)

(୨୧) Post-Mission Sex Is Next-Level - After a particularly dangerous mission or a near-death experience, Harry is feral. He’s got this mix of adrenaline and relief that turns into desperate, passionate sex where he’s almost growling your name. He’ll push you against the wall, his hands rough but his kisses soft, and the way he moans, “I thought I’d lost you,” will wreck you.

(୨୧) Whispered Promises in the Heat of It - Harry loves whispering in your ear while he’s deep inside you. Things like, “You’re perfect,” or “You don’t know what you do to me,” as he grips your hips tightly and thrusts just a little harder. It’s not just sex for him—it’s pure devotion, and you feel every ounce of it in the way he moves.

(୨୧) The Aftercare King - After everything’s said and done, Harry turns back into that sweet, caring boyfriend. He’ll clean you up, press soft kisses to your forehead, and wrap you in his arms, murmuring how much he loves you. He’s the type to pull you close, trace circles on your back, and stay up just to make sure you’re okay. (It’s the perfect mix of hot and wholesome.)

(୨୧) That Smirk When He Knows You’re Watching - If you’re watching him undress—or if he catches you biting your lip while he’s shirtless—he’ll flash that cocky smirk and drag it out.

(୨୧) Choking, But Make It Hot Harry’s hesitant at first, but the second you ask him to choke you, something snaps. His hand fits perfectly around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch, and he leans down to murmur, “You look so pretty like this.” (Goodbye. Dead.)

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

This was requested by @aceattorneyforlife. Thanks for requesting. I hope I matched your expectations and that you are happy with it.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

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tomsparkyr · 2 months ago

Text

Save me? - J. Bellingham x reader

Summary: after the GlobeSoccer awards, you find yourself being chased by Paparazzi, and end up leaving with something you didn’t come with.

Footballer!reader

A/n: visit my masterlist for more!!

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The Globe soccer awards dwindle in attendance as the night comes to a close, an evening of boredom but occasional awe falls behind you. Literally, while you walk away from the theatre-like award hall, and head in the direction of the Ladies toilets.

You’d come on your own, having been in Dubai for a bit of relaxation away from the hustle and bustle of your home.

You smile politely at people exiting the lavish building as you head in the opposite direction, having to contain a sliver of inner fangirl as some of your favourite footballers walk past you.

It takes you a few minutes to find the bathroom, the signs conveniently covered up by directions to bars dotted around as opposed to their original purpose.

You push the door open to find the most extravagant looking bathroom you’ve ever seen in your life. The expanse of it almost bigger than the whole bottom floor of your house (and you’re quite successful so your house is not small). Large, black, velvet sofas stretch out against the sides with gold detailing in an intricate floral pattern, the mirror stretching the expanse of wall above the sinks had little lights around the side cascading a warm gold hue, complimenting the dimly lit room beautifully. It was magnificent.

You went into one of the stalls and checked your phone, only having notifications from your agent instructing you who to network with. Oops…probably should’ve checked that earlier, you think with a grimace.

Once done, you unlock the door and head over to the sinks, washing your hands and making sure to make good use of the heavily perfumed hand soap and lotion before reaching into your handbag to touch up your lipliner.

Once happy with your appearance, you run your hands over your dress, smoothing it out and checking it in the mirror. Satisfied, you begin to head out and back into the labyrinth of hallways.

Everyone must have been in a hurry to leave, as the once overpopulated building now laid barren and desolate.

This suited you quite nicely, of course, savouring the peace and quiet as your feet scream at you for wearing your heels for too long.

You only get a few metres along the hallway, your heels sinking tenderly into the soft carpeted floor, before you hear someone attempt to talk to you.

It’s a waiter, his pristine suit and a white apron tied from the waist down giving it away. He’s looking at you with slightly panicked eyes and his hands make what looks to be a camera shape. He’s speaking to you, but in a language you don’t understand.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand?” You say, feeling somewhat helpless.

He continues speaking but your cluelessness has no avail.

“Okay. Well, have a good night. Sorry again” you say, awkwardly shuffling away as his attempts to communicate with you slow.

He waves at you with a defeated look on his face, but you can still sense some nerves from his posture.

You head towards the doors that were previously home to attendees flooding out, only to find them closed with the little windows boarded up with pieces of…card?

The two men at the door turn to look at you as they hear you approach.

“Sorry Miss, we can’t let you out this way” one of them says.

Your shoulders slump slightly, knowing the other exit is on the complete other side of the building.

“Please” you sigh “my feet are killing me, and I didn’t even want to be here in the first place, I’m exhausted and this thing lasted hours longer than I was anticipating” you try to keep the begging out of your voice but don’t succeed.

They look at each other, before the other one turns to look at you. “If you’re sure?”

“Why would I not be sure, what’s going on?” You ask.

“Well, there’s-” the same guy starts before the one that spoke to you first interrupts him, sounding entirely uninterested, “just open the doors.”

Your brows furrow at the uncertainty on the other’s face before the doors swing open and your face is assaulted by a flurry of camera flashes.

Your brain doesn’t compute what’s going on as voices shout out:

“That’s not Ronaldo” a deep voice calls from behind a camera.

No way…

The cameras holt their flashing for a moment, allowing you some time to breathe. But not for long.

“Wait, that’s y/n y/l/n!” Another voice calls, and then the cameras begin their second assault.

“bollocks” you mutter under your breath before you’re running down the hallway, attempting to flee the bombardment, ignoring the pain in your feet at every step.

“They lied! Ronaldo must be on the other side” a pap calls out and you sigh in relief as you turn the first corner of the hallway, thinking they must be leaving you alone to go and find him.

But you’re wrong, as whilst the numbers have dwindled, a crowd of paparazzi come barrelling down the hallway you’ve just run through, in pursuit of you.

So much for the door guards…

You waste no time before sprinting again, as fast as you can in your shoes, towards the bathrooms again. They’re all men, they can’t follow you in there.

You manage to put a few metres between you and the photographers, them thankfully not having the stamina of a professional athlete, giving you the upper hand.

Just as you reach the entrance to the award hall, a figure walks out.

You don’t have time to compute before you’re smashing into them, their hard chest taking the breath out of you. But you can’t stop to look, you have to keep running.

“Y/n? What?” You recognise the voice as Jude Bellingham.

You halt in your tracks for a moment before turning round and grabbing his hand before pulling him with you, forcing him to start sprinting too.

You’d met a few times doing some shoots for Adidas campaigns, so whilst your conversations were brief, you were familiar with him and so you felt you owed him the loyalty of saving him from the paparazzi.

“Keep running, trust me” you say as you turn your head to the side to see his face looking entirely confused as he easily matches your pace.

He looks over his shoulder to see the large crowd of paparazzi that he somehow hadn’t noticed as he was leaving the award hall.

“Oh dear” he says before increasing his pace, slightly dragging you behind, your hand still in his.

“I thought you were supposed to be fast” he teases, and you glare at him. How is he joking in these circumstances…

“Wear a pair of heels in your next match, then come find me and tell me if they help your speed” you bite back.

He begins to laugh but immediately stops as you yank him sideways into the women’s bathroom, finally arriving at the place you were silently begging for.

You let go of his hand, allowing him to slightly stumble into the room as you press your back against the door. You press a finger to your lips, gesturing for the man to be quiet as you listen.

“Did y/n just bring Jude Bellingham into the bathroom with her” you hear one voice say as the camera shutters finally cease.

“That will make a headline, I’m happy to go now” you hear another one say before all the shuffling outside the door stops.

You stand in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the two of you catching your breath.

Your face scrunches up as one of your palms rests on your forehead.

“You’re welcome for saving you” you say after what feels like a minute.

“Saving me? You’ve just caused a PR nightmare for me to wake up to tomorrow” he says, his face painting annoyance but his tone lets you know he’s just teasing.

“A notch in Jude Bellinghams belt.” You try out the title, “How everyone woman wishes to be described” you laugh and he does too.

“Could be worse, Modric was right behind me. At least this is age appropriate” he jests as he flops his lean body onto one of the sofas you were admiring earlier.

“Are you assuming I like dating men my own age, Bellingham?” You squint your eyes at him, your voice full of sarcasm.

“Oh no, by all means go for a 39 year old man” the smirk on his face causing your stomach flip, a feeling you’re used to whenever you speak to him at shoots, albeit it only short conversations.

You laugh, a sound his smile widens at as you walk over to the mirror, fixing your hair after the events of the last five minutes have displaced some strands.

“I believe congratulations are in order” you say as you look at him, your gaze meeting his in the mirror, “where are your two awards anyway?”

“My mum took them back to our hotel, she left as she was tired but I stayed for a drink with a mate” he replies, moving to a sitting position, leaning back on the sofa, arms spread over the back and legs apart.

God he’s attractive…for a man-spreader, of course.

“So you didn’t take a 39 year old date with you?” You smirk as you turn to look at him, pushing yourself up onto the counter next to the sinks and crossing a leg over the other.

“Nah, not my type” he shrugs with a smirk mirroring yours.

“But thank you, for your congratulations” he starts before his face turns in confusion, “what are you doing here anyway, these awards are just for male footballers. Are you someone’s date?” He asks with a slight edge to his voice, making you tilt your head to the side.

“Was that jealousy I heard there” you raise a brow.

“Who am I going to talk to during long campaign shoots if your whisked away by a boyfriend on set with you?” He jokes, pouting his bottom lip.

You giggle, “I’m here because I was holidaying here anyway and so my agent thought it would be a good ‘networking’ opportunity. You know, show my face at an award show that’s got big stars like you in attendance.”

“Do you need networking? You’re quite a household name in women’s football, are you not?” He says with a smile.

“Different audience in men’s versus women’s football i guess?” You shrug, tiredness weighing on you.

“Fair enough. Don’t think your agent is going to be happy with the kind of press you’ll come out with after the newspapers are published tomorrow” he sighs.

“You’d be surprised. He actually suggested I fake date this Swedish model just to get my name recognised outside of England” you laugh, a slight edge of bitterness in your voice.

“What?!” Jude barks out a laugh, throwing his head back as a smile grows on your face.

“Yep. Only got out of it by saying I was ill and didn’t want to infect the guy” you admit, not having told anyone that before.

“You need a new agent” he tsks, shaking his head.

“Trust me, I’m working on it” you say, looking around the room. Your eyes light up when you see something to your left.

A gasp leaves your lips causing Jude to look at you.

You push yourself off the counter, and head over to the little table near the entrance of the bathroom.

A metal bucket filled with chilled water, no doubt melted ice, and an unopened bottle of very expensive looking champagne with a few glasses on the side.

You pick up the metal tray the items lay on before taking it over to the sofa where Jude moves to create space for you.

“What on earth is that in here for?” He asks, his voice filled with joy.

“I guess it’s promotional?” You answer, reading the label.

He nods and picks up two glasses, holding them out to you, “we might as well, probably safe to hide in here for a while and let the paps disperse.”

“Are you really going to make me pop the bottle?” You sigh, to which he nods.

You go to take the cork out the top, somewhat succeeding apart from the fact to cork flies out of your hands and into the ceiling, leaving a tiny dent.

“Oh my god” you say, your mouth slightly agape as you stare at it.

Jude begins cackling, “and that is why I wanted you to open it”

You shake your head before filling up the glasses, he hands one to you after you put the bottle back into the metal bucket.

“Cheers to your awards” you say, smiling at him as you hold your glass up for him to cheers.

He does so with a nod in thanks, before you both take a sip.

Your gaze snaps to his, the liquid resting in your mouth. His eyes meet yours, before swallowing it with a grimace.

“God that’s awful” he proclaims, his mouth open in disgust.

You swallow as you stare at him, having almost spat yours out at the look on his face.

“Yeah, there was always going to be a reason the bottle was unopened” you say in regret, your expression matching his.

You stare at him for a moment before linking your arm holding your glass, with his.

“Down the hatch?” You ask, and he nods, the both of you emptying the contents of the glass into your mouths, your arms intertwined.

You shake your head as you finish the last drop, “vile, so so vile” you say.

“Agreed. But it’s free alcohol” he proposes with an eyebrow raise.

“As if you need anything to be free” you tease him, and he smirks.

“What can I say?” He teases and you push your tongue into the side of your cheek.

“You can say ‘thanks for saving me’?” You suggest with a laugh and he nods sarcastically.

“Oh yeah, thanks so much for saving me. So glad I ended up stuck in the women’s bathroom drinking champagne that tastes like it’s from the toilet” he mocks with a smile as he pours another glass.

“You’re welcome!” You match his tone before taking his arm and knocking back another glass.

“So, how’ve you been since I last saw you?” He asks, his full attention on you.

“I’ve been good. Christmas was nice, saw all of my family. Scored lots of goals in recent matches, as per” you smirk.

“Yeah? I’ve been watching a few of your matches actually. Only really watched the England matches before but since we met, I’ve watched a few league games too. I get what all the fuss is about now” he says, taking a sip from his freshly filled glass.

“Yeah people tend to overlook women’s football, but it’s actually not bad” you reply.

“Not the fuss about football” he starts, “the fuss about you”

His gaze is intense as he looks for a reaction, “I don’t get awards for nothing, Bellingham. I’m actually very good” you say, drinking out of your own glass.

“Yeah, you are. But don’t tell me you don’t know you’re all over tiktok with teenage boys obsessing over you” he says with a raised brow.

“Ah, you’ve seen the edits” you laugh, and he nods. “Guess that makes two of us with an avid fan base on tiktok.”

“So you’ve seen the edits of me then?” He asks, his voice full of humour.

“Don’t go thinking I searched for them, they just pop up occasionally” you weakly defend yourself.

“On your for you page. Which is made for you. Based on what you’ve liked and viewed in the past?” He teases, the biggest and handsomist smirk you’ve ever seen on his face.

“If you’ve seen mine, then you’ve stitched yourself up too” you poke back at him and he holds his hands up.

“You’ve got me” he sighs.

“But yeah, I’m not blind, maybe I do like the edits I’ve seen” you say, the alcohol loosening your lips.

“Makes two of us” he shoots back just as easily, seeming unphased at the admission.

“Where’s this all coming from?” You ask, not shy at all, feeling perfectly comfortable with the man sat beside you suited up in all his glory.

“Never had the chance to tell you. You’re a busy lady” he quips.

“Well, you could’ve followed me back on Instagram and send me a message” you turn to look at him.

“First, I didn’t know you followed me and I was too shy to follow you first. Second, I’ll do you one better” he says and you gesture for him to continue.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

He taps on the screen for a few moments before holding his phone up to you, “smile.”

You do as he says as you hold your glass of champagne up and pose sweetly.

Your cheeks heat up at the way he’s looking at you through the screen before he passes his phone to you with a contact page open, your name and the picture waiting to have your number added.

You type your number in as you try desperately hard to act like this isn’t what you’ve wanted for months.

“Okay that is better” you say as you hand the phone back to him.

He presses the button, and your phone starts ringing from your handbag.

You raise a brow as if to say ‘really?’.

“What? Just got to make sure you aren’t lying to me” he bites back a smile.

“I’d never lie to you” you tease as you save his contact.

The two of you stay like that for what ends up being an hour, finishing the bottle and having a proper conversation like the both of you have desired since you first met, not the surface level chatter you have during shoots.

You’re both suitably drunk as he holds his hand out for you, helping you out of the taxi that’s now parked in front of the hotel.

“Wait a moment, please mate. Just going to walk her up to her room” he says, leaning back into the car to talk to the taxi driver once you’d gotten out.

Wordlessly, he takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around your shoulders as his hand finds the small of your back to guide you into the hotel.

You lead him to the elevator, where you press your floor number and wait for the door to close.

Once it’s closed, you lean into his chest, resting your head on the hard surface you’d crashed into earlier.

He smiles softly and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

You inhale the smell of his expensive cologne and allow your eyes to flutter shut for a moment.

“Y/n” Jude whispers your name, making you pull away from him and look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“You’re beautiful” he murmurs, his lips against your forehead as he pulls you back to him.

“Thank you, Jude. You’re jaw droppingly gorgeous” you say and a deep laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Okay I was going to say those exact words but I thought I’d better play it cool” he jests and it’s your turn to laugh now, looking up so your faces fall only a few centimetres away from each other.

You can’t hold back any longer, you go to move your lips close to his, but before you can, his soft lips are on yours.

It takes you a moment to process but you wrap your arms around the back of his neck and deepen the kiss, allowing him to explore you in a way he’d been wanting to for months.

You’re in a peaceful bliss, until the elevator door opens, having reached your floor.

You don’t care to pull away, and nor does Jude, until you hear the all too familiar shutter of a camera.

You jump away from him as the both of you turn to look in the direction of the sound, to see a lone photographer looking like he’s just stumbled upon a goldmine.

“oh, for fu-”

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