Tumgik
vintagevalentinex · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pedro pascal at the SAG awards 2.24
3K notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pedro pascal on entertainment tonight (2.24) for @swiftispunk 💕
2K notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
It’s uncanny.
1K notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
neck + chest appreciation post ✨️
3K notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i need medical attention
2K notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
gif by @joelscruff
Like. Y’all get it right? Y’all get why I’m in tears over this right?
3K notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
We would like to resurrect this page. Is anyone still around??
@theashhole is locked out of her account and is looking for fic recs and authors to chat with!!!
4 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
I Wanna Be Your Man
Tumblr media
Characters: Steve Harrington x reader
Summary:  Amidst playful banter at a High School basketball game, Steve might just find his feelings for you aren’t as unrequited as he believed.
Word Count: 1066 word
Prompt: Sports Game. Wearing their hoodie. Seeing them with kids/baby. “Don’t You Dare.”
A/N: This is the final part of my Build-A-Festive-Fics and this one is a little birthday gift to myself. Thank you to all of you who have sent in prompts and to all who have read my ramblings. I hope you all have a very happy festive period.
**************************************************************
The final game of the year, the high school gymnasium buzzed with infectious holiday spirit as a throng of enthusiastic attendees filled the space. The gymnasium, adorned with twinkling lights and tinsel, emitted a warm glow that added a touch of magic to the atmosphere that heightened the anticipation in the air.
The bleachers were filled with excited spectators, donned in a kaleidoscope of red and green attire, while Santa hats and jingling bells added a playful touch to the crowd. The cheerleading squad energetically led the crowd in spirited cheers, their voices harmonizing with the gentle beats of holiday tunes playing softly in the background. The polished hardwood court shimmered under the brilliant glow of the arena lights, setting the stage for an exhilarating showdown. As both home and away players mentally prepared for the game, even the basketball itself seemed to radiate with a hint of festive enchantment, enhancing the overall sense of excitement and celebration in the gymnasium.
Your gaze swept across the lively crowd, and a gentle smile played on your lips as you identified your friends amidst the sea of faces. Ascending the steps toward them, the familiar sound of good-natured bickering reached your ears, a customary occurrence at these events. The intricate dance of negotiations to secure preferred seating arrangements unfolded before you, a complex strategy that often bordered on chaos, presided over by Steve Harrington. Even Dustin passionately defending his stance on avoiding the end of a row, did not diminish the buoyancy of your mood.
"For the last time, just plant yourself in a seat," Steve huffed, his patience wearing thin as he attempted to corral five spirited teenagers.
"I'll take the end, no big deal. You know I'm not picky about where I sit," you grinned, your arrival causing Steve's frustrated expression to morph into a charming smile.
"Absolutely not. I don't want you getting stuck on the steps when these goofballs start shoving each other," he yielded, stepping aside to let you claim the seat next to the end before finally settling down beside you.
"Hey there, hope these troublemakers haven't been giving you too much grief," you chuckled, playfully nudging your shoulder against his in the snug space.
"Nothing I can't handle."
"Of course not, you're the best babysitter in Hawkins," you teased, prompting an eye roll from Steve.
"Hey, look! It's Lucas!" Max blurted out, enthusiastically pointing to her boyfriend on the court and waving with gusto.
The game started and you were caught up in the electrifying energy of the court. Meanwhile, Steve found himself captivated by you, pleasantly distracted by your presence. His gaze couldn't help but gravitate toward you, a tender, goofy smile dancing on his lips. His feelings for you had been simmering for quite some time, yet the shift from friendship to something more eluded him.
Lucas nailed a three-pointer, prompting the Hawkins High crowd to erupt into cheers, and everyone leapt to their feet in excitement. "That was an insane shot!" you exclaimed, turning to Steve, who had seemingly missed the spectacular basket, his attention wholly fixated on you.
"The kid's good," he acknowledged with a nod, making a deliberate effort to redirect his gaze towards the court.
The game raced on at a frantic pace, maintaining its intensity, and Hawkins High found themselves with a narrow lead as the halftime approached. As soon as the whistle blew, Dustin hurried off to the bathroom, while Mike and Will made a beeline for refreshments, leaving Elle and Max engrossed in animated conversation about Lucas's stellar performance.
As you and Steve rose to allow the others to pass, he observed you shivering. Despite the gymnasium's warmth, you had shed your thick winter coat and sat there in just a thin t-shirt.
"Here," he said softly, swiftly removing his hoodie and extending it toward you as the two of you settled back into your seats.
"Thanks. I thought I'd be okay, but there's a draft in here or something."
"Don't worry about it. I was getting hot anyway."
"Yeah, you were," you teased, injecting a hint of flirtation into your words. His cheeks warmed as he observed you slipping into his hoodie, the sight of you wearing his clothes sending his heart into a rapid rhythm.
He didn't get a chance to respond, though, as a small kid, no more than six years old, stumbled on the steps beside him, accidentally spilling his drink, which ended up partly on Steve and mostly on the floor.
"Shit." Steve sprang to his feet, the cold soda seeping into his jeans. Instead of immediately attending to his own predicament, he bent down to check on the kid. "You okay, buddy? No injuries? We can fix a spilled drink."
Observing this interaction and then witnessing Steve help the boy back to his parents stirred a warm feeling within you. His kindness shone through, and while other guys his age might have grumbled at the inconvenience, he made sure the child was okay.
"How are you single?" you asked playfully, handing him some tissues from your coat pocket as he returned to his seat.
"I guess I'm just not good at the whole 'dating' thing," he shrugged bashfully.
"I'm not buying that. I swear I saw at least three girls swoon when you took care of that kid."
"You did? Which ones? I should go talk to them," he grinned, showing no intention of leaving your side.
"Don't you dare," you chuckled, narrowing your eyes at him in mock warning.
Whatever he was about to say in response was lost as Dustin, Will, and Mike returned, prompting the two of you to once again rise to your feet to let them pass. Determined not to lose the connection that had been building between you, Steve smoothly slipped his arm around your waist, drawing you into his side. He purposefully avoided meeting your gaze, focusing on the game as it started up again. As he felt you subtly lean into him, it became clear that you weren't upset with his spontaneous move, causing his heart to race with a mix of nervous excitement and contentment.
Years from now, Steve couldn't recall the exact score of the game, but he certainly remembered every detail about you. It was a day etched in his memory, marking the moment he decided to seize the opportunity and finally ask you out.
127 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
Give me Daddy Mycroft immediately
Tumblr media
Now and Then
Tumblr media
Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader
Summary: A bustling airport lounge had Mycroft contemplating the future and what his life could become with you.
Word Count: 1383 word
Prompt: Airport. Seeing them with kids/baby. Making you taste test. “You know you’re stuck with me, right?”
A/N: This is the penultimate part of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the utterly brilliant @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek who put these prompts together for the lovely Mr Holmes. This can be seen as a second part to my first Build-A-Festive-Fic is you like.
********************************************************************
Another year, another airport. There were times Mycroft wondered if it wouldn’t be more economical to invest in a private jet. The airport lounge at Christmas was a festive oasis amidst the hustle and bustle of holiday travel. As travellers awaited their flights, the lounge became a haven of seasonal cheer and comfort. Twinkling lights adorn every available surface, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space. Garlands of pine and red ribbon drape elegantly over counters and railings, infusing the air with the nostalgic scent of Christmas.
A towering Christmas tree, adorned with an eclectic mix of ornaments, took centre stage, its branches sparkling with lights and reflecting the colours of the season. Beneath the tree, carefully wrapped presents create a sense of anticipation, adding to the overall festive ambiance. Soft instrumental renditions of classic holiday tunes play in the background, creating a melodic backdrop that adds to the joyful atmosphere.
Mycroft lingered by the bar, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he observed you near the resplendent Christmas tree. You stood with a small girl in your arms, enthusiastically pointing out the various types of decorations that adorned its branches. There was a warmth in your interactions that tugged at his heart, an ache that had become all too familiar in recent times. The sight of you with the child painted a poignant picture of familial bliss, a scene that both touched and unsettled him in equal measure.
Sherlock's deep voice sliced through Mycroft's contemplative silence, injecting a note of teasing smugness. "Thinking about the future, brother mine?"
"I was simply observing," Mycroft replied, his tone steady, though a subtle softness lingered beneath his composed exterior.
Sherlock, ever perceptive, leaned into the banter. "Observing the love of your life holding a small child and absolutely not wondering about what that might look like if you had one of your own."
Mycroft's lips tightened imperceptibly, a flicker of irritation crossing his otherwise impassive features. "It had not even crossed my mind," he declared with a carefully measured hum, attempting to deflect the conversation away from the unspoken thoughts that lingered in the recesses of his mind. Yet, a keen observer might catch the hint of vulnerability in his eyes, betraying the depth of emotion stirred by the scene before him.
In the quiet recesses of his mind, Mycroft found himself entertaining the notion of what life might be like with a little one in tow. The prospect of sharing knowledge, moulding a young mind, and experiencing the unpredictable chaos that parenthood promised had begun to weave itself into the fabric of his contemplations. An unexpected warmth enveloped him at the mental image of guiding a curious mind through life's intricacies, embracing the potential chaos as a welcomed disruption to his meticulously ordered existence.
Despite these musings, Mycroft had yet to broach the subject with you. The various paths to parenthood lingered unspoken, a myriad of possibilities silently contemplated but carefully kept in the realm of his private reflections. Whether through traditional means, adoption, or other avenues, the desire for a family remained a quietly nurtured aspiration within Mycroft's heart.
Sherlock chuckled knowingly, taking a sip of his drink. "You may fool the entire everyone else, brother, but you can't fool me. You're a romantic at heart, even if you hide it beneath layers of bureaucracy. You are not the Iceman you once were."
Mycroft shot him a stern look, but Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow in response. The truth was, Mycroft Holmes, the enigmatic and powerful government official, had a softer side that few were privy to. The prospect of family, of a life beyond the intricacies of political manoeuvring and clandestine operations, was something he couldn't help but entertain since you had entered his life.
As you approached with Rosie and John, Mycroft smoothly shifted the conversation. "And what have you been conspiring about over there?" he asked, his tone impeccably composed.
You grinned, the little one in your arms giggling. "We were just discussing the best strategy for decorating the tree. It seems you have a budding interior designer on your hands, John. She has very definite ideas about what belongs on a tree."
Mycroft's gaze softened as he looked at the two of you, a twinge of warmth in his eyes. "Indeed, it appears so. Perhaps we should let our young prodigy take the lead in the decorations next year."
Sherlock smirked, detecting the subtle shift in Mycroft's demeanour. "I never thought I'd see the day when my brother willingly allowed his home to be decorated for the festive season. It seems we have a Christmas miracle."
Your laughter echoed through the air as you handed little Rosie over to John, a sense of warmth lingering in the atmosphere. Placing a gentle hand on Mycroft's arm, you remarked, "It's a season of surprises, after all."
Meanwhile, Rosie, in her father's arms, couldn't contain her curiosity, her tiny hands reaching for the enticing display of sugar cookies on the bar. Without hesitation, you purchased one, starting to unwrap it before a thoughtful pause crossed your face.
"Oh, do you think these might be a little too sweet for her? Mycroft, darling, can you try a bit?" You turned to him, holding out the cookie, expecting him to automatically acquiesce.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, a mild protest forming on his lips. "Me?"
With a playful grin, you teased, "Well, you are the one with the sweet tooth."
The accusation, albeit light-hearted, was one Mycroft couldn't deny. With a small sigh of mock frustration, he broke off a corner of Rudolph's ear and placed it into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, he declared, "Not as sugary as one might think, given the season."
John accepted the cookie gratefully, making his way to an empty table where Rosie eagerly indulged in the festive treat. As you and Sherlock observed the adorable scene, Mycroft slyly purchased a couple of cookies for himself, slipping them discreetly into his jacket pocket.
Sherlock sauntered over to join John and Rosie, his penchant for imparting unconventional knowledge evident as he began explaining to the small child the reasons why Rudolph might be a female reindeer rather than male. Mycroft, standing nearby, couldn't help but wear a bemused expression as he watched his eccentric brother engage with the little girl.
"Your brother is infuriating, but he is surprisingly good with children." You mused, leaning against Mycroft and letting your arm slip around his waist.
"Unnervingly so," Mycroft replied, his attention momentarily divided, a faint frown forming on his usually composed features.
Sensing a slight distraction in Mycroft's demeanour, you decided to break the quiet moment with a question, hoping to offer some reassurance. "You know you're stuck with me, right?"
The unexpected inquiry caught him off guard, and Mycroft looked down at you, raising an eyebrow. "I am not 'stuck' with you; that would imply I am unhappy with the arrangement. I rather fear it is you who is 'stuck'."
Your laughter filled the air, and Mycroft couldn't help but allow a small, fond smile to grace his lips. The banter, the shared moments, and the ease with which you complemented each other had become an integral part of his life—a fact he wouldn't trade for anything.
Your words carried a tender sincerity that caused a subtle shift in Mycroft's usually composed countenance. The glint in your eyes hinted at a depth of understanding that made him wonder if you had somehow glimpsed his recent musings.
"I think you would be a rather brilliant father, just so you know," you declared nonchalantly, your eyes twinkling with genuine affection.
Mycroft, momentarily caught off guard by the heartfelt compliment, allowed a softness to touch his features. "Perhaps that is a discussion for the New Year. Right now, we have to sit through an eight-hour plane journey with a toddler."
His attention returned to Rosie, who was thoroughly engrossed in creating a masterpiece on Sherlock's shirt with crumbled cookie and icing. The amusing chaos brought a small smile to Mycroft's face, a silent acknowledgment of the unpredictable joys that parenthood might bring.
"First things first," you agreed, acknowledging the immediate reality of the plane journey ahead and the shared journeys which might present themselves in the not too distant future.
82 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
In My Life
Tumblr media
Characters: Poe Dameron x reader
Summary: Taking a much needed break and joining the seasons festivities give Poe the opportunity to explore a connection he had been thinking about for a while.
Word Count: 1154 word
Prompt: Crowded party. Mutual pining. Tugging you closer by your waist.
A/N: This is the eighth of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to my very dear friend @kjs-s who put these prompts together for the lovely Poe.  
*************************************************************
In the heart of the bustling city on the desert planet, a lively Cosmic Solstice celebration was unfolding at a crowded local cantina. Laughter resonated in the warm air, accompanied by the melodious clinking of glasses and the distant hum of starships passing overhead. Amidst the jubilant revellers, the charismatic resistance pilot Poe Dameron took a well-deserved break from the relentless pressures of warfare, savouring the tranquillity that prevailed on the quiet war front.
The cantina, decked out with holographic snowflakes and vibrant festive lights, served as a comforting refuge from the harsh realities of battle. As Poe navigated through the spirited crowd, his flight jacket adorned with subtle Cosmic Solstice-themed patches, he raised an eyebrow when he spotted you across the bar, clearly enjoying the festivities.
Observing you in this carefree moment was a rarity for him, and he couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of you letting your hair down, engaging in laughter with fellow comrades. The genuine joy reflected in your expression intrigued him, making him wonder about the source of your amusement and whether he could be the cause of such infectious delight that illuminated your face. Contemplating the idea of manoeuvring through the lively crowd to join your revelry, he hesitated, considering the potential dampening effect a superior officer crashing the festivities might have on your enjoyment. Instead, he stayed where he was, stealing glances at you but keeping his distance.
As Poe continued to watch you from a distance, he couldn't shake the magnetic pull of your infectious joy. Curiosity, a desire for connection and a great deal of alcohol, prompted him to make a decision. Determined to bridge the gap without disrupting the festive atmosphere, he summoned the cantina's droid bartender and discreetly handed over a holocommunicator. He asked the droid to deliver it to you alongside a festive cocktail.
Poe watched with bated breath as the droid delivered your surprise. The holographic snowflakes shimmered around you as a soft beep emanated from the holocommunicator now in your possession. Glancing at the device, you activated it to find a holographic message from Poe. A warm smile crossed his face as he extended a silent greeting, raising his glass in a subtle toast. The cantina crowd, unaware of the holographic exchange, continued their merriment, and the festive lights danced around you as you scanned the crowd with a soft smile playing on your lips, trying to spot the charismatic pilot.
Your eyes met his and, for a moment, the cantina seemed to quieten. A cheeky smirk adorned his face, and he raised an eyebrow suggestively, a playful expression that prompted an eye roll from you, accompanied by laughter. As a silent acknowledgment of gratitude for the drink he had orchestrated, you raised your glass in a subtle toast.
The shared moment lingered briefly, suspended in time, before the animated crowd closed in, obstructing your view of Poe. The ambient noise of the party once again enveloped you, marking the end of the fleeting connection. Despite the interruption, the memory of that brief interlude lingered, leaving you with a sense of intrigue and a smile that persisted in the midst of the bustling Cosmic Solstice celebration.
With an empty glass in hand, emboldened by the lingering warmth of alcohol, you found yourself scanning the lively crowd once more, fueled by a false sense of bravado. Amidst the jubilant revellers, a familiar figure emerged, and your feet guided you through the animated throng toward him.
Poe's eyes lit up with genuine excitement as he noticed your approach, his heart quickening its pace. In a spontaneous attempt to appear more presentable, he ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture not lost on you.
“I believe this belongs to you,” you said, holding up the holocommunicator.
A carefree smile graced Poe's face. "I was wondering where that had got to," he replied, reaching out to retrieve the device, his fingers lingering against yours.
“I bet you were.” You teased, clearly not buying his feigned innocence.
Engrossed in conversation, the two of you leaned closer to each other in order to be heard over the lively energy of the cantina. Soft, flirtatious words blended seamlessly with intense eye contact, creating an unspoken connection that resonated between you. 'Accidental' brushes of fingers, arms, and legs added a playful dimension to the dialogue, the physical contact growing progressively less subtle as the evening wore on.
As the Cosmic Solstice celebration continued to unfold, the vibrant energy of the cantina seamlessly synchronized with the palpable chemistry shared between you and Poe. The rhythmic beats of the music reverberated through the venue, pulsating from the floor and encouraging the patrons to surrender to its infectious beat. The festive melodies seemed to cast a spell, compelling the crowd to immerse themselves in the joyous atmosphere.
Numerous times, you found yourself caught in the sway of the music, your body instinctively responding to the rhythmic vibrations. The dancefloor beckoned, and your every step seemed guided by an unspoken invitation to join the lively celebration. As the Cosmic Solstice magic enveloped you, the desire to lose yourself in the dance became irresistible, a silent plea echoing through your being, tempting you to succumb to the enchanting allure of the rhythmic celebration.
Poe's smile deepened with a touch of satisfaction as he observed the subtle transformation in your demeanour. Reacting to the unspoken invitation of the music, he placed a hand on your waist and skilfully guided you through the animated crowd, carving out a space on the bustling dance floor reserved for the two of you. In that moment, words became unnecessary as the shared desire to dance spoke volumes.
The rhythmic pulse of the music enveloped both of you, orchestrating your movements as you willingly surrendered to the enchantment of the Cosmic Solstice celebration. Poe's gaze remained unwavering, a witness to every nuance of your dance, each step etched into the canvas of his memory.
Poe's hands rested confidently on your hips, their touch becoming a tactile connection that transcended the dance floor. With a wicked smile playing on his lips, he tugged you closer, the magnetic pull between you intensifying.
"Happy Cosmic Solstice," Poe hummed warmly in your ear, a gentle prelude to a moment that held promises of deeper connection. Pulling back ever so slightly, he captured your lips in a tender kiss, the warmth of the embrace hinting at a passion waiting to unfold. In that suspended moment, the cantina and its vibrant celebration faded into the background, leaving only the shared intensity between you.
As you both relished the sweet exchange, Poe couldn't help but feel grateful for choosing this particular night to take a break in that lively cantina. The connection forged in the dance and sealed with the kiss held the potential for something truly remarkable—a beautiful beginning to a journey that promised to be nothing short of amazing.
67 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
Because
Tumblr media
Characters: Eddie Munson x reader
Summary:  When Eddie spots a familiar face in the crowd of a concert, he can’t help but feel it’s a sign.
Word Count: 1116 word
Prompt: Flirting then realising feelings have been caught. Tugging you closer by your waist. Intermission at a show. “You’re so cute, you know that?”
A/N: This is the seventh of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the lovely anon who put these prompts together for my first request for my favourite metalhead.
The air puled with anticipation as the crowd converged in front of the stage. The hum of excitement, clinking of chains and other metal accessories were momentarily drowned out by the roar of guitar riffs and insane vocals of the warm-up act. The walls reverberated with the promise of a night filled with raw energy and intense music.
The scent of leather and sweat was heady in the sea of black t-shirts, which seemed to be the unofficial uniform of the band’s fans. The elaborate arrangement of speakers, amplifiers and drum kits littered the stage, creating an altar for the adoring metalheads to worship at. The stage lights cast an otherworldly glow, creating an atmosphere that was both electrifying and mysterious, an effect enhanced by the overuse of smoke machines and somewhat in contrast to the festive decorations strewn about the venue.  
As the lights dim, a surge of adrenaline courses through the crowd. The murmurs evolve into roars of excitement as the band takes the stage, greeted by a sea of raised devil horns and the rhythmic pounding of fists against chests. The first strike of the drum sends shockwaves through the place, signaling the beginning of an auditory assault.
The mosh pit swiftly became a chaotic ballet of bodies. Fans colliding and swirling in a whirlwind of limbs, guided by the primal rhythm of the music. Those on the periphery headbang with fervor as strobe lights flashed and the occasional burst of pyrotechnics punctuated the sonic landscape.
Amid the chaos and the cacophony, Eddie caught sight of someone he wasn’t expecting to cross paths with at a place like this. A smile tugged at his lips as he continued to bounce with the music, his eyes now firmly following your movements, rather than focusing on the stage.
As the final notes of a particularly exuberant version of Rudolph reverberated through the venue, there was a collective pause, a moment of shared exhaustion and exhilaration. The crowd, now hoarse from singing along and bodies weary from the frenzy, erupts into cheers and applause.
“We’re gonna take a break, but we’ll be back in twenty!” One of the band members yelled into the microphone to be heard, and the crowd seemed to move as one, now swelling towards the nearest bar.
Eddie's grin widened as he navigated the sea of concertgoers to stand beside you. The pulsating energy of the music still lingered in the air as he leaned in to be heard over the din.
"Couldn't resist the call of the metal, could you?" Eddie teased, his eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and genuine happiness at finding you in the midst of the crowd.
You laughed, the shared experience of the concert already creating a bond between you. "Well, it's not every day you get the chance to hear these guys."
His hand came to rest on your waist, it felt warm and reassuring amidst the chaotic surroundings. "Guess you’re just drawn to good music and even better company," he replied, his playful smirk softened by a hint of sincerity.
As the crowd continued to disperse toward the bar and other corners of the venue during the intermission, Eddie led you to a quieter spot near the edge of the room. The distant murmur of the band preparing for the next set provided a temporary reprieve, allowing the two of you to catch your breath.
"So, what brings you to this metal mayhem tonight?" Eddie asked, his gaze fixed on yours, hoping that you weren’t on a date and that some big butch bloke was about to appear with a drink for you and a disapproving look for him.
You shrugged, enjoying the slight flirtatious edge to Eddie’s tone. "Just felt like losing myself in the music for a while. And hey, it looks like I'm not the only one."
Eddie chuckled, his fingers idly tracing small circles on your waist. "Well, lucky for me, I found someone worth losing myself with."
The compliment hung in the air, and a subtle warmth crept into your cheeks. “That was quite smooth, for you, Munson.”
He clutched his chest, as if wounded by your words, and action which elicited a peal of laughter from you that made his heart race.
This was the dance the two of you had been doing for a while now, him flirting outrageously with you and you finding his theatrics amusing while failing to see the sincerity. Somewhere in the middle of him just trying to make you laugh, Eddie realised he actually really liked you, liked being the reason for your smile, liked that you didn’t pull away from him when he touched you.
"You've got a strange sense of humor, you know that?" you teased, a playful glint still present in your gaze.
Eddie smirked, not missing a beat. "Strange? I think you mean irresistible."
As your laughter rang out once again, Eddie's lips curved into a genuine smile as he just looked at you. For a moment, the flirtatious banter ceased. The air between you held a newfound tension, not born out of jest but out of the unspoken truth that had started to weave its way through your interaction. The line between playful banter and genuine affection had blurred, and Eddie found himself genuinely captivated by you.
As he looked into your eyes, Eddie felt a shift in the dynamics of your interaction. The touch on your waist, once a playful gesture, now held a hint of tenderness. He didn't want to be just the reason for your laughter; he wanted to be the reason your heart raced, the reason you felt a connection that went beyond the lighthearted banter.
The moment was broken as the crowd seemed to swell back towards the stage, a rather large guy bumping you, causing you to stumble. Your hands came to rest on Eddie’s chest as his rested on your waist, trying to steady you.
“You’re so cute, you know that?” He murmured, almost to himself as his eyes met yours.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Munson.” You hummed, making no attempt to move.
A mischievous grin pulled at his lips, and he tugged you closer, chuckling to himself as he saw your eyes widen in surprise at his move. “Figured I’d keep you close, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to get trampled in the mosh pit.”
“Yeah, sure, has absolutely nothing to do with just wanting to keep me close.”
“Can’t it be both?” He grinned, dragging you back into the crowd, ready for the music to take hold again, hoping he could work up the courage to cross that line from playful flirting to something a little more.
89 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
Across The Universe
Tumblr media
Characters: Armitage Hux x reader
Summary: In the freezing temperatures of Starkiller Base, Armitage Hux finds warmth in the most surprising place.
Word Count: 1087 word
Prompt: Mutual pining, putting your head on their shoulder. “I’ll keep you warm.”
A/N: This is the sixth of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the utterly brilliant @ourstaturestouchtheskies who put these prompts together for my absolute favourite ginger General.  
*********************************************************
On the coldest night of the year within the icy confines of the Starkiller Base, General Armitage Hux was relentlessly pacing through the corridors. His mind, a battleground of duty and the persistent pressure to deliver tangible results, left little room for distractions. The crisp scent of pine hung in the air, accompanied by the delicate strains of festive music echoing through the base. While the galaxy reveled in winter festivals. It had not escaped him what time of year it was, how many winter festivals were being celebrated across the galaxy, but he did not have time for such frivolity, he had responsibilities.
Armitage continued his pacing, the resounding echo of his boots a solitary cadence in the deserted corridors of the Base. The stark, cold environment seamlessly mirrored his demeanor as he wrestled with the weight of his duties. A background of white noise enveloped him, made up of the faint hum of machinery and sporadic echoes of troopers engaged in their duties, and Armitage fought this unsettling feeling that lingered deep within him – the sense that something was missing.
As he continued to allow his feet to guide him, memories of his childhood surfaced – memories of biting winds that heralded the shift from rain to snow had always seemed somehow enchanting, as if they were about to usher in some sort of magic. Of winters on Arkanis where the bitter cold was harsh, but his father expectations were harsher. Armitage shook off the wistful nostalgia that threatened to envelop him, resolute in reminding himself that sentimentality had no place within the rigid confines of the First Order.
Coming to a halt by a vast viewport, Hux directed his gaze towards the frigid expanse of the base, where snow-draped plains stretched endlessly, reaching as far as the eye could discern. The stark beauty of the frozen world served as an unyielding reminder of the formidable might wielded by the First Order. However, it also mirrored the profound isolation he experienced—a leader shouldering the formidable burden of command.
The festive music wafting through the halls caught his attention once more, possibly because it was a stark contrast to the seriousness of his surroundings. Someone, perhaps trying to inject a bit of holiday cheer into the atmosphere, had decided to celebrate despite the grim circumstances. Hux scowled at the thought, finding it distracting, somebody would be getting a reprimand for such behaviour.
He couldn't afford to be distracted, none of them could. The Starkiller Base was a weapon of unimaginable destruction, and its success was paramount. This project was Hux's magnum opus, a testament to his leadership within the First Order. Its success would prove his father wrong, that Armitage was worth more than just infantry fodder. The Resistance posed a threat, and every decision he made carried consequences for the entire galaxy. Duty, not merriment, was his priority. It had to be.
You had been wandering the base, your mind restless for reasons you couldn’t discern. Abruptly, your steps ceased as the imposing figure of your General materialized, his silhouette etched against the unforgiving evening sky. You had always admired the man–his resolute determination and steadfast commitment to the First Order were both intimidating and commendable. Yet, beneath the icy and calculated exterior, you sensed a vulnerability that was intriguing. The enigmatic interplay of strength and vulnerability within the General drew you closer until you stood shoulder to shoulder with him, looking out over the landscape.
“General Hux,” you greeted, your voice soft and calm.
"Officer," Hux acknowledged, inclining his head slightly. His gaze flickered to you, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second as he fought to compose himself. Recently, he had found being in your presence… challenging.
The two of you stood in silence for a moment, both gazing out at the vast expanse of snow-covered terrain. The chill in the air seemed to intensify, and Hux couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine, although he was not certain that was due to the temperature rather than your proximity.
"Cold, isn't it?" you remarked, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
Hux nodded, "Indeed." Internally, he berated himself for such a mundane response. Was he truly going to engage in small talk about the weather?
A subtle smile graced your lips, your features softening in the gentle glow of the evening. "Sometimes, it's okay to take a moment for yourself, General. You are allowed to have fun, on occasion."
Raising an eyebrow, Hux's usual stern expression softened as he regarded you briefly before straightening and returning his focus to the snowy panorama. "I have no time for frivolities."
“You might be surprised, General. Sometimes, it is the moments we least expect that bring us the most joy. Even you deserve a little respite from the unwavering duty.” You said softly, your arm brushing against his.
Armitage was taken aback by your proximity, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he found himself inexplicably drawn to your warmth, his shoulders relaxing as if his entire body had released a great breath. His leather clad fingers brushed against the back of yours in a bold move he was uncertain of.
A small smile played on his lips as he felt your fingers slip between his, a silent admission that his advances were welcomed. He was about to say something more when he sensed your head gently resting on his shoulder. Suddenly, he felt like that small boy back on Arkanis, smiling at the shifting of the harsh winds, eagerly awaiting the magic that promised to blow into his life.
Another shiver ran through his body, and this time he was certain it had nothing to do with the drop in temperature.
"I'll keep you warm, General," you whispered so softly Hux was not entirely certain you had spoken.
For a fleeting moment, Hux's typically rigid demeanor wavered, and he permitted himself to relish the unexpected comfort. The two of you stood side by side in companionable silence, simply observing the delicate descent of snowflakes. In that hushed interlude, amid the cold and the chaos, General Armitage Hux unearthed a warmth that, he seemed to have been searching for his entire life.
59 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
Hello, Goodbye
Tumblr media
Characters: Steve Harrington x reader
Summary:  Time apart from you has given Steve time to think about what you mean to him, and maybe your return for the holidays will give him the perfect opportunity to confess his feelings.
Word Count: 1126 word
Prompt: Airport, Forced Proximity, A Hug That Gets Deeper. “You know you’re stuck with me, right?”
A/N: This is the fifth of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the amazing anon who put these prompts together for my favourite boy.  
********************************************************************
Steve Harrington paced back and forth in the arrivals lounge; he couldn't shake the nervous energy coursing through him. The holiday season was in full swing, and the airport buzzed with the joyful reunions of families and friends. The scent of freshly baked goods from the nearby coffee shop mixed with the warm glow of festive decorations, creating a backdrop that should have eased Steve's nerves.
Yet, all he could think about was you.
You, his friend who he had been nursing a small crush on for quite some time, had been away at school, studying in a city halfway across the country. It had been too long since he last saw you, and he found himself counting the days until your return. The holiday break was the perfect opportunity to catch up and spend some quality time together.
Steve checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. The anticipation and excitement danced in his eyes, but a twinge of uncertainty lingered. What if things had changed? What if you had moved on during your time away? These thoughts crossed his mind, but he quickly brushed them aside. After all, this was the holiday season—a time for joy and celebration.
As the crowd near the arrival gate thickened, Steve's heart raced. Every incoming passenger seemed to heighten his anticipation. Then, there you were—emerging from the gate, surrounded by other travellers, looking slightly dishevelled from your journey.
"Steve!" You called out, waving enthusiastically. Steve's tired eyes lit up at the sight, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Any lingering doubts he had melted away as he quickly made his way over.
"Hey! I've missed you!" Steve exclaimed, enveloping you in a tight hug that seemed to squeeze the breath right out of your lungs. The warmth of the embrace felt familiar, yet there was a subtle nuance to it this time—a depth that lingered longer than usual.
“Missed you too, Stevie,” you whispered into his shoulder, hesitant to break free from the comforting hold.
"We should probably head home, though, right?" he suggested with a gentle smile, maintaining his arm around you while deftly reaching down to retrieve your bag.
As you walked alongside Steve through the bustling airport, the familiar surroundings took on a different hue. The crowd, the noise, and the constant movement seemed to fade into the background as you became increasingly aware of the subtle shifts in Steve's demeanour. His steps were more purposeful, his posture more upright, and a newfound confidence emanated from him.
The two of you navigated through crowded terminals, engaging in easy conversation that flowed effortlessly. There was an unspoken connection, a silent understanding that seemed to have deepened since the last time you met that the forced proximity of the airport environment seemed to amplify. The subtle glances, the occasional touch, and the shared laughter in the face of airport inconveniences all contributed to an undercurrent of a connection that felt undeniable.
As you walked side by side through the bustling airport, Steve couldn't help but steal glances at you. The time apart had given him a chance to reflect on his feelings, and he realized that what he felt for you was more than just a crush. It was a genuine affection that went beyond friendship, a realization that both excited and terrified him. Each time your bodies brushed against each other during the navigation through the bustling crowd, a jolt of nervous excitement surged through him.
The two of you reached the parking lot, and the cold winter air hit your faces. Steve led you to his car, holding the door open for you with a charming smile before tossing your bags into the trunk. The holiday lights around the airport cast a warm glow on both of you as you settled into the car, the heaters starting up as soon as he switched the engine on.
As Steve waited in the queue to exit the carpark, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The stolen glances at you revealed a sense of admiration, the way your hair framed your face, the warmth in your eyes, you were even more captivating than he had remembered.
Eventually, the conversation turned to the time you spent apart, a topic that carried a hint of apprehension for Steve. He braced himself, expecting to hear the words that would tie his stomach in knots—'I met someone.' But to his relief, those words never came.
“I thought you’d go off and meet all these new people and... well... forget about me,” Steve confessed nervously, stealing another glance at you as he handled the parking ticket.
You chuckled, your response carrying a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “Never. You know you’re stuck with me, right?”
“Good. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grinned, the tension that had been building within him seemed to dissipate. The jokey tone couldn't hide the sincerity in your words, and it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"You know," he began, his eyes focused on the car in front but his tone betraying a hint of vulnerability, "I've had some time to think while you were away."
You turned to him, a curious expression on your face. "That sounds dangerous. What about? New haircare routines?"
Steve chuckled nervously, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "About us, I guess. I mean, we've been friends for so long, and…” he trailed off, his confidence failing him.
Your heart skipped a beat, and you attempted to meet his gaze, a mixture of surprise and joy in your eyes. “And..?”
Steve continued, "Look, I don't want to complicate things or make this awkward. I just needed to be honest with you. The past few months have made me realize that you mean a lot to me, more than I initially thought."
The air in the car held a delicate tension as Steve awaited your response. The holiday lights flickered outside, casting a magical glow on the moment. After a brief pause, a smile played on your lips.
"I've been thinking the same thing," you admitted, your eyes locking onto his. "Maybe being home for the holidays, I don’t know, maybe it’s the perfect time to explore whatever ‘this’ is?”
A genuine grin spread across Steve's face, and he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he turned out of the carpark and headed on home through enchanting neighbourhoods decorated and lit up for Christmas.
Squeezing your fingers between his, Steve stole a glance over at you, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and contentment. The holiday lights reflected in his eyes as he spoke, "I think you're right. It's perfect."
65 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Here, There And Everywhere
Tumblr media
Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader
Summary:  Could the festive spirit finally give Mycroft Holmes the little push he needs to step out of his comfort zone and approach the one person who has captured his attention and possibly his heart?
Word Count: 1365 words
Prompt: Crowded Party, Mutual Pining, Tugging You Closer By Your Waist.
A/N: This is the fourth of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the brilliant @russian-soft-bitch who put these prompts together for the wonderful Mycroft Holmes.
***********************************************************************
The grand ballroom of the Diogenes Club sparkled with festive decorations, casting a myriad of colors across the polished marble floors. Once a silent sanctuary of solitude, tonight it buzzed with the jovial chaos of the season for the annual Christmas ball, a spectacle not to be missed, not even by the impeccably dressed Mycroft Holmes.
Mycroft lingered along the outskirts of the room, his sharp eyes surveying the revelers. Every detail, no matter how small, was noted and neatly filed away in the recesses of his mind for potential use at a later time. The half-filled champagne flute in his hand and his stern countenance deterred would-be conversationalists, and he couldn't help but appreciate the opulence of the ambiance. Despite the crowd, he remained acutely aware of the exclusivity of this gathering.
The grand ballroom emanated a symphony of sounds, from the melodies of music to the laughter that resonated through the air. The festive scents of evergreen and spiced delicacies wafted around, creating an enticing atmosphere. The stark contrast between the usual solitude of the Diogenes Club and the lively chaos of the Christmas ball was both palpable and intriguing.
Mycroft's thoughts remained inscrutable to others as he navigated the crowd. He was polite but remained rather solitary, his inner awkwardness prevailing. Social gatherings were one of the rare things he felt he did not excel at, no matter how much he may have tried in the past. He was not good at small talk and often missed social cues which left him with a burning sense of embarrassment and inadequacy.
Overhearing snippets of conversations, Mycroft gained insight into the lives and relationships of other guests. The dialogue painted a mosaic of characters, revealing both the mundane and the mysterious that he wished to understand and, occasionally, be part of.
The lavish decorations, a testament to excess and elegance, transformed the ballroom into a visual spectacle. Unique Christmas-themed elements punctuated the opulence, adding a touch of whimsy to the grand affair. Mycroft, despite his seemingly detached demeanor, couldn't help but be captivated by the extravagant surroundings, the festive spirit sneaking in to take root.
Sipping his champagne, Mycroft's gaze gravitated to the far side of the dance floor, and in that moment, time appeared to slow. There you stood, positioned at the periphery, resplendent in your festive attire. The twinkle of Christmas lights cast a soft radiance upon your features, accentuating your captivating presence and drawing him in.
For a man whose heart was said to mirror the stoicism of his demeanor, an unusual occurrence unfolded. Mycroft's heartbeat, once measured and deliberate, now seemed to accelerate at the mere sight of you. He blinked slowly, as if trying to comprehend the unexpected flutter within his chest, a phenomenon which only seemed to occur when he found himself in your presence.
The sounds of conversation faded away, leaving only the joyous melodies of the orchestra, and Mycroft found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. His feet on autopilot, took him through the crowd with one sole purpose. As he approached, he couldn’t help but admire the way your eyes sparkled with merriment. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and he took a deep breath, allowing him to savor the rare moment of respite from the burdens of his responsibilities. In this moment, he was not the embodiment of the British Government, or the responsible older brother, he was simply a man approaching someone he admired deeply.
You observed Mycroft's approach almost as soon as he embarked on the journey toward you. Patiently, you waited until he drew closer, a small but knowing smile gracing your lips as you offered a polite nod.
"Mr. Holmes, I did not expect to see you at a party like this," your tone carried a teasing lilt, and your eyes sparkled as they met his gaze.
Mycroft arched an eyebrow, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "One must occasionally venture into the chaos of society, if only to maintain appearances," he remarked with dry wit. The comment earned him a light chuckle from you, and in that moment, a flash of pride bloomed in his chest at the unexpected achievement.
"I see. So, for appearances' sake, did you arrive this evening with a companion?" Your gaze gracefully drifted over to the dance floor as you took a sip of your champagne, projecting a nonchalance that was in strict contrast to the curiosity stirring within your heart at such a question.
"I did not," he stated simply, his eyes studying you for any sign of a reaction to that information. "I assume you are someone's guest this evening."
A small, knowing smile played on your lips at his deduction. It was an easy leap to make; the Diogenes was, after all, a gentlemen's club, and with the greatest will in the world, 'gentleman' was not a title you could pull off.
"I am the plus one of Lord Barrington's plus one."
"A plus one of a plus one?"
"Yes. Lady Barrington was concerned her husband would be too busy discussing business to keep her entertained, and so I am here as her companion, although the two of them have yet to leave the dance floor. They look like a pair of honeymooners, very much in love, even after forty years together," you shared with a touch of warmth in your voice, your gaze following the couple as they twirled gracefully on the dance floor.
Mycroft's gaze lingered on the Barringtons, his keen observation capturing the nuances of their dance. "An impressive feat," he mused, the faintest hint of nostalgia crossing his features.
"One worth aspiring to," you responded, a subtle warmth in your tone that resonated with Mycroft's unspoken sentiments. His gaze shifted from the happy couple back to you, his usually stoic expression softening slightly as he found himself silently agreeing.
"Would you like to dance?" The words had escaped him before he fully processed the thought, his eyes widening as he weighed the possibility of the potential humiliation—whether it be from you rejecting his offer or discovering him to be a less-than-agreeable dance partner.
“I would love to, thank you, Mycroft,” you replied, your acceptance lifting the weight of uncertainty from his shoulders. Taking your champagne flute, he placed it alongside his on the nearest table and offered his arm. If he was going to do this, he decided, then he would focus and, at the very least, prove himself a competent dance partner.
Concentrating turned out to be a far more challenging task than Mycroft had anticipated once he led you onto the dance floor and held you in his arms. Swallowing thickly, he found himself looking at his feet, attempting to recall how to lead without inadvertently stepping on your toes as the two of you swayed to the music.
You gazed up at him, finding this nervous and uncertain side of him endearing. A question lingered in your mind—was it the act of dancing itself or your presence that had this effect on him?
“Relax, Mycroft. It's just a dance. I've been led to believe you're rather good at such things,” you teased lightly.
“I have?” He raised his gaze to meet yours, genuine surprise evident in his eyes.
“Rumor has it you dance rings around most of the people you encounter.”
“Ah, well, there is a very large difference between verbal tapdancing and physically doing so.” He said dryly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Luckily, this is more of a waltz.”
“Perhaps,” he chuckled, using the hand resting on your waist to pull you closer.
Mycroft could never accurately gauge how long the two of you remained lost in your dance. Time seemed to lose its grip as you stayed in his arms, the music guiding your movements until it came to an end for the evening. The once-crowded space had now thinned out, leaving the two of you as the sole occupants on the dance floor. Even then, he was reluctant to let you go, and the two of you continued to sway silently to the music only you could hear.
104 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
And I Love Her
Tumblr media
Characters: Poe Dameron x reader
Summary: The Winter Festival provides the perfect moment for Poe to relax and tell a special someone how he really feels.
Word Count: 1172 words
Prompt: Best Friends To Lovers. Putting Your Head On Their Shoulder.
A/N: This is the third of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the super @sweetjedi who put these prompts together for the lovely Poe. (I have NOT proof read this so if you find a mistake LET ME KNOW!!!)
 *******************************************************************
The Winter Festival celebrations were fast approaching, and the Resistance base was awash with joy and merriment. Festive lights adorned the side of the Millennium Falcon, casting a warm glow across the snow-dusted landscape. The mouthwatering aroma of roasted meats wafted through the air, blending with the sound of laughter and the distant hum of starships. In these moments, the sense of hope was more tangible than ever, and the belief that anything was possible permeated the atmosphere.
Poe, dressed in his slightly battered Resistance uniform, leaned casually against a sturdy wooden post, surveying the scene with a contented smile. His gaze drifted over the gathered revellers, but it always came back to you. You, his best friend, was busy helping Chewbacca hang yet another strand of twinkling lights. There was a sense of camaraderie in the air, and Poe couldn't help but feel a warmth blossoming in his chest.
The two of you had been through more than your fair share of battles, shared triumphs, and weathered defeats side by side. As he watched you expertly manoeuvring around Chewbacca and the lights, Poe couldn't help but marvel at the strength of your beauty.
Unable to resist the magnetic pull, Poe pushed himself off the wooden post and made his way toward you, navigating the sea of joyful faces. The snow beneath his boots crunched in time with the festive tunes playing from strategically placed speakers, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the holiday preparations.
“Need a hand there?" Poe called out, his voice cutting through the lively chatter.
“Hey Poe! Trust you to show up just as we’ve finished. It’s like you’ve got a sixth sense about these things.” You teased him, earning an eyeroll and a lopsided smirk.
“Or perhaps I’m trying to stay out of trouble after last time.”
“Oh, yes, I am sure anyone flying into the base won’t be looking at a rather inappropriate image fashioned out of lights.” You giggled, recalling the previous Winter Festival.
Poe smirked. "Hey, it wasn't intentional. Finn and I were just trying to spread some holiday spirit."
You rolled your eyes in mock disapproval. "Sure, Poe. Holiday spirit, I'm sure that's what everyone thought."
He grinned. "Well, this year, I've made sure our decorations are, let's say, more family-friendly. No accidental light art."
You chuckled. "I appreciate that. I don't think the Resistance needs another incident report on inappropriate festive displays."
"Fair point. How about we grab a festive beverage? I hear they've added a new touch to the usual juice this year."
You raised an eyebrow, amused. "A new touch?"
Poe nodded with a mischievous twinkle. "It’s a festive surprise.”
You laughed. "Wow, Poe. That's some serious dedication to holiday spirit, festive surprise huh? Lead the way!"
As Poe led the way through the lively Winter Festival crowd, your arm securely hooked through his, the atmosphere around you felt charged with festive energy. The colourful lights overhead reflected in his eyes as he stole fond glances at you, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
The joyful chatter of fellow Resistance members surrounded you, and the air was filled with laughter and the sweet melody of holiday tunes. Poe's steps were confident, and his arm provided a sense of comfort and familiarity. He could feel the warmth of your body against his side, and the simple act of being close brought a sense of ease.
Every so often, Poe turned his head to catch your eye, his gaze holding a mixture of playfulness and genuine affection. His eyes spoke volumes, telling tales of shared adventures, unspoken understanding, and a hint of something beyond platonic.
As you meandered through the festivities, the scent of festive treats wafted through the air, and the glow of colourful decorations created a magical backdrop. Poe guided you toward the makeshift beverage station, where a selection of festive drinks awaited.
"Here we are," Poe said with a grin, gesturing towards the array of beverages.
You surveyed the options, a playful glint in your eye. "So, what's the special touch this year, Poe?"
He picked up two glasses, each adorned with a sprig of festive greenery on the rim. "Behold, the pinnacle of holiday sophistication."
You laughed, taking the offered glass. "Well, I must say, the Resistance knows how to throw a party."
As you clinked glasses in a festive toast, Poe's gaze lingered on yours. "To friendship, to adventure, and to not causing any unintentional intergalactic incidents with holiday decorations this time."
“That is definitely something I will drink to.” You chuckled, clinking your glass to his before taking a sip.
The two of you wandered off to find a place to sit, finally perching side by side on a slightly damp bench. The two of you observed your friends and comrades, revelling in the joyous occasion. The air was charged with the spirit of friendship, and the twinkling lights reflected in Poe's eyes as he stole glances at you.
Poe felt a gentle weight on his shoulder as your head came to rest, creating an intimate connection between the two of you. The beating of his heart quickened, creating a rhythmic melody that seemed to synchronize with the music playing in the background. He stole a sideways glance at you, marvelling at the way your presence seemed to complete the scene.
The world around you blurred as Poe's attention became solely focused on the shared moment. Torn between the enchantment of the evening and the warmth of your presence, he couldn't help but feel a surge of emotions. His heart, a drum beating in sync with yours, whispered the untold words that hung in the air between you.
Taking a deep breath, Poe's gaze held yours, his voice a gentle murmur amid the festive symphony. "You know," he began, his words carrying the weight of unspoken emotions, "this... this feels right. Everything seems to fade away when I'm with you. It's like the world stops, and there's just us."
His fingers found yours, intertwining in a silent dance that mirrored the connection between your hearts. "I've been trying to find the right words, and I realise there might never be a perfect moment, but I can't keep it in any longer." Poe's eyes searched yours for affirmation, a vulnerability he rarely showed on the battlefield.
“I know.” You hummed softly, and a smile pulled at his lips.
A soft smile graced Poe's lips, and he couldn't help but express his gratitude for the connection you shared. Leaning down, he planted a tender kiss on the top of your head, a gesture filled with unspoken affection.
Pulling you a little closer, Poe continued to watch the merriment around you, his heart beating in harmony with yours. The world had changed, and yet, in that shared embrace, it felt like everything had fallen into place. The confession of love had woven a new thread into the tapestry of your relationship, and as the night unfolded, the promise of a future together lingered in the air, sweet and undeniable.
76 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 3 months
Text
Something
Tumblr media
Characters: George Weasley x reader
Summary: When George bumps into a familiar face he begins to realise what he truly wants for Christmas.
Word Count: 1167 words
Prompt: Best Friends To Lovers. Tugging You Closer By Your Waist. Coffee Shop. “You know you’re stuck with me right?”
A/N: This is the second of my Build-A-Christmas-Fics so thank you to the amazing @achromaticerebus who put these prompts together for my favourite Weasley.
***********************************************************************
It was mid-December and George Weasley strolled through the enchanting scene of Diagon Alley, a swirling snowfall turning the bustling wizarding street into a winter wonderland. The shop windows were adorned with glistening decorations, casting a warm glow on the cobblestone streets. Everywhere he looked, green wreaths and twinkling lights illuminated the magical atmosphere, creating a festive charm that hung in the air. His breath visible in the crisp winter air, he couldn't shake the subtle ache in his chest. The laughter of couples echoed around him, their shared moments of joy accentuating his sense of loneliness. His eyes drifted toward a couple in front of him, heads close together, exchanging whispered secrets beneath the glow of a magical lamppost.
Trying to shake off the melancholy, George decided to visit his favourite coffee shop, "Brews and Brews." The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the warm glow of the fireplace greeted him as he stepped inside. The place was filled with laughter and chatter, providing a comforting backdrop to the holiday season.
As George waited for his order, his attention was momentarily diverted when he noticed someone familiar across the room, and a soft, nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There you were, seated alone at a cozy corner table, bathed in the flickering glow of the firelight. You seemed completely engrossed in a book, a world of words and magic unfolding before you. George couldn't help but take a moment to watch you, the fondness evident in his eyes. The two of you had been firm friends since your school days, and this wasn't the first time he had found himself captivated by your presence.
Memories of shared laughter, late-night conversations in the common room, and countless adventures together flooded George's mind. But somewhere in amongst all the shenanigans, there had been a subtle shift that had taken place over the years; a shift that George had only recently begun to acknowledge. As he observed you, a warmth spread through his chest, and his heart skipped a beat. Picking up his coffee, he made his way over to you.
"Hey, stranger," George greeted with a playful grin, smoothly sliding into the seat opposite you. The rich timbre of his voice pulled your attention away from the book, and as your eyes met his, a genuine smile illuminated your face, recognizing the familiar presence.
"George! What brings you in here? I’d have thought you’d be working every hour you could up to Christmas," you remarked, curiosity lacing your words as you closed the book and set it aside.
George leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, you see, even pranksters need a break now and then and I thought I'd take advantage of the festive charm. What about you? Any exciting plans for the holidays?"
As the conversation flowed, the warmth of the fireplace mirrored the growing warmth between you and George. The laughter and shared memories from your school days echoed in the air, creating a comforting backdrop to the catch-up session.
"He didn’t! I always thought it was Lee!" Your laughter resonated through the cozy café, and George couldn't help but feel his heart swell with joy.
"I swear it was Fred! Honest! And that’s why Samson had to wear a hat for a month," George insisted, a playful glint in his eyes as he recounted the mischief from their Hogwarts days.
Your sceptical look only fuelled the mirth in George's expression. "And you had absolutely nothing to do with that?" you questioned; your tone laced with a hint of disbelief. The mischievous twins' reputation for pranks was legendary, after all, where you would find one of them it was fairly certain the other would be.
George responded with a nonchalant shrug, his expression confessing more than his words. It was clear that he was just as involved with the prank as his twin had been. The memories of their shared antics seemed to weave a thread between you, a thread that connected past mischief to the present moment.
Time passed in a blur, and before you knew it, the two of you were bundled up against the cold, strolling through a snow-covered Diagon Alley, and every step seemed to conjure up memories of laughter and shared stories. Beneath the gentle glow of the streetlamps, the soft light intermingled with the delicate snowfall, casting a romantic ambiance over the cobbled path. The crunching sound of snow underfoot accompanied your laughter as you exchanged tales of past adventures. The air was filled with a sense of enchantment, the flickering lights and the serene snowfall conspiring to create a moment suspended in time.
"I've missed this, you know," George admitted softly as the conversation lulled, his breath creating little puffs of steam in the crisp winter air.
"Me too. It's been too long since we've just hung out."
A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet. George felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and a nervous energy danced in his eyes as he searched for the right way to express what had been quietly brewing within him.
“I didn’t mean that I just missed hanging out. I missed you. I missed us.”
Your gaze met his, and the sincerity in his words lingered in the frosty air. George took a deep breath, hoping to summon the courage to delve into uncharted territory.
“You know you’re stuck with me, right?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
George chuckled, a mixture of relief and affection evident in his expression. "Well, perhaps I want to be stuck with you."
The moment hung in the air, suspended between the snowflakes and the twinkling lights of Diagon Alley. The realisation of unspoken feelings coloured the atmosphere, as the two of you stood looking into each other’s eyes.
Suddenly, George reached out, gently tugging you closer by your waist. The gesture felt so natural, as if he had done it a million times before, and your hands came to rest against his chest. It was right then that George knew he couldn’t let this moment pass.
"You know," George began, his voice low and sincere, "if I’m stuck with you, that also means you're stuck with me, right?"
You met his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Good thing I wouldn't want it any other way."
And just like that, beneath the twinkling lights and the falling snow, George realised that the best Christmas gift he could have received was standing right in front of him. The transition from best friends to something more felt like the most natural progression, a love that had been quietly brewing for years, he just hadn’t realised it until now. Cupping your cheeks, he took a chance, leaning down and capturing your chilly lips in a soft but searing kiss. Perhaps this Christmas he wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.
160 notes · View notes
vintagevalentinex · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Then There Was You
Tumblr media
Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader
Summary: A chance encounter in an airport at a magical time of year might make a believer out of even the most logical of men.
Word Count: 2076 words
Prompt: Airport. Mutual Pining. Eyes meeting across the room. “You feel like home.”
A/N: This is the first of my Build-A-Christmas-Fics so thank you to the wonderful @savvy-devine666 who put these prompts together for the enigmatic Mr Holmes. Hope you enjoy it, I may have got a little carried away.
************************************************************************
In the departure lounge, the holiday spirit is palpable, creating a lively and enchanting atmosphere. The glittering decorations and twinkling lights transform the space into a festive haven, immersing travelers in the magic of the season. As passengers navigate through the terminals, the air is infused with a sense of excitement and anticipation, each step bringing them closer to the warmth of family and the joy of holiday celebrations.
Sparkling lights, glittering ornaments and garlands filled with holly and tinsel seem to adorn every surface, forcing the joviality of the season upon all who enter this artificial winter wonderland.
The sounds of classic Christmas carols fill the air, creating a harmonious backdrop to the lively conversations and laughter. The departure lounge becomes a stage for a symphony of joy, where people from all walks of life unite in the shared celebration of the season. The place somehow feels more than just a transit point, it feels almost held outside of time itself, where anything could be possible.
Mycroft Holmes, ever the embodiment of control and authority, sat in the plush surroundings of the first-class lounge, a haven for the elite travelers. The atmosphere exudes sophistication, but the irritation on Mycroft's face betrayed the inconvenience he felt. The hum of quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses momentarily ceased as an announcement crackled over the speakers, signaling yet another delay.
His brow furrowed in annoyance. The delay was unacceptable, a disruption to the carefully orchestrated schedule he had in place. He retrieved his phone from the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit and began to type furiously. His fingers danced across the screen in a rapid and precise ballet, as if Mycroft believed his typing could somehow command the weather outside. His gaze never wavered from the device, as though the intensity of his focus could single-handedly rectify the situation.
The snowfall outside the window continued unabated, indifferent to Mycroft's attempts to influence it. Despite the annoyance etched on his face, Mycroft remained the epitome of composure. The delay might persist, but Mycroft Holmes, with his phone as a weapon and his ice-cold demeanour as a shield, was determined to restore order to the chaos, even if only within the confines of the first-class lounge.
Mycroft's discerning gaze swept across the crowded first-class lounge, his mind momentarily shifting from the pressing matters of flight delays to the intriguing spectacle of human interaction unfolding before him.
His attention settled on a peculiar scene: a man, who seemed to have overindulged a little at the lounge bar, engaged in rapid-fire conversation with a young woman who appeared young enough to be his daughter. She seemed uncomfortable with the invasive nature of his questioning, but the man appeared unperturbed by her avoiding answering.
Further down the bar, an elderly gentleman called the barman by his first name. Mycroft's keen observation suggested a regular patron, a man who had traversed the halls of this exclusive lounge on numerous occasions. The over-familiarity hinted at a sense of entitlement, a privilege earned through repeated visits, and he couldn’t help but smile at the deference the bar staff paid the man. Clearly a big tipper, Mycroft surmised.
As Mycroft continued to survey of the room, he noted that everyone appeared to be bathed in the fake joviality of the festive season, papering over the cracks in their lives, and Mycroft wondered why people felt the need to cling so desperately to the promise of hope and possibility during the festive season.
Mycroft, usually the embodiment of control and emotional detachment, found himself in the throes of an unexpected internal turmoil as he observed the attractive figure across the bar absentmindedly stirring their drink. The subtle shift in his composed demeanour betrayed a rare vulnerability, and an uncharacteristic ache in his chest stirred his emotions. In his mind, he grappled with the unfamiliarity of this emotional response.
Blinking rapidly, he attempted to shake off the unusual sensations and refocus his thoughts. This wasn't the Mycroft Holmes he knew; the man who thrived on logic and control. It had to be the effects of sitting in what amounted to an oversized festive snow globe for far too long.
Despite the internal turmoil, Mycroft couldn't resist the urge to deduce. It was a coping mechanism, a way to regain a semblance of control. Not married, not romantically attached: these deductions flowed effortlessly. The presence of a book in your bag and your apparent nonchalance about the flight delays intrigued him further. As he continued to observe from a distance, Mycroft found himself at a crossroads, torn between the familiar comfort of his calculated control and the allure of exploring beneath the surface, the possibility of creating a connection with someone who had unexpectedly captured his attention.
In that unguarded moment, just as Mycroft was contemplating the probability of instigating a conversation with you which would make him somehow favourable, your eyes met his. Time seemed to stand still as a profound shift occurred within him. The man who thrived on logic and science, the master of cause and effect, found himself inexplicably lost in the depths of an unfamiliar emotional landscape.
The carefully calculated moves in the chess game of life, the strategic thinking that defined Mycroft Holmes, dissipated like mist in the face of an unexpected connection. It was as if the world had momentarily slipped from the moorings of reason, and he was caught in the uncharted territory of raw, unfiltered emotion. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken possibilities, and Mycroft Holmes, the orchestrator of order, found himself suspended in the magic of a moment that defied the logic he held so dear.
As Mycroft was caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts and emotions, unbeknownst to him, you had not been quite as passive as he believed. Upon entering the lounge, your attention had been immediately drawn to the striking man in the finely tailored suit. The ambient glow of twinkling fairy lights seemed to play upon his features, creating an aura of both mystery and sophistication. Your observant eyes didn't just see the meticulously groomed exterior; they delved deeper into the subtle expressions that danced across his face; stern, frustrated, yet undeniably captivating.
In the backdrop of the festive ambiance, you began to weave your own internal narrative, a fictional backstory for the handsome stranger engrossed in the world within his phone. The tapping fingers and furrowed brow sparked your imagination, and you found yourself concocting scenarios that might explain his intense focus. Perhaps he was a high-powered executive handling a critical business deal, his mind navigating the complexities of global affairs. Or maybe, he was a brilliant doctor, eager to get back to the hospital where he worked in order to save the lives of several orphans who had been in a horrific accident, him being the only one who could perform the surgery. The finely tailored suit hinted at a life of privilege and authority, but the flicker of frustration painted a more human portrait beneath the veneer of sophistication.
Your eyes met Mycroft's, and both of you instinctively looked away, a fleeting moment of embarrassment shared in the silence of the lounge. Yet, as if drawn by an unseen force, your eyes found each other again and a soft smile graced your lips.
Caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of the encounter, Mycroft returned your smile nervously. His usual calm exterior seemed to falter in the face of these unfamiliar feelings bubbling inside him, threatening to breach the carefully constructed walls of his emotional reserve. It was a sensation he wasn't accustomed to, and the vulnerability it brought unsettled him.
Your hand rose in a small wave, and Mycroft hesitated for a moment before reciprocating. This was ridiculous. He had faced the most powerful people in the world, had even given some of them a dressing down, he could walk to the end of the bar and strike up a conversation with an attractive stranger. Surely it wasn’t that difficult. Yet, here he was, feeling like a teenager with their first crush. 
With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, he got to his feet and navigated his way towards you.
"Would you mind if I joined you?" Mycroft's voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability, a departure from the usual confidence that defined him. You, however, seemed not to notice his nerves.
"That would be lovely."
As the two of you engaged in slightly awkward small talk, there was a palpable tension in the air. Mycroft couldn't shake the feeling that he was not excelling in this arena, that the art of forging emotional connections eluded him. The potential for something wonderful lingered in the air, but he couldn't shake the sense that it was slipping through his fingers.
"So… are you headed home for Christmas?" Mycroft asked; a question he knew the answer to but felt compelled to inquire nonetheless. The conversation seemed to teeter perilously on the edge of uncertainty.
"Yes. I suppose so." You said thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?"
"Well… home is such a strange concept. Somewhere can feel like home despite it being the first time you are there. People can feel like home. Not just family, not just the familiar. Have you ever been somewhere and felt like you have been there before? Like you are remembering a place you have never visited. Or met someone who just feels like they are new but also so familiar? Sorry, that took rather a strange turn. When people talk about home, they mean the place they come from, not some abstract concept." You gave him a bashful smile, clearly embarrassed by your ramblings.
The conversation had indeed taken a turn into the realms of introspection and philosophy and Mycroft found that delightful. As you spoke about the abstract nature of home and the peculiar familiarity one can feel with places and people, Mycroft found himself drawn to the depth of your thoughts, drawn to you.
For a moment, the awkwardness seemed to dissipate, and Mycroft discovered that he did indeed understand point of view.
"You feel like home," he said softly, the words escaping him before he could stop them.
"What?"
"I said, Yule feels like home. The time of the year. There is something about it that just feels…" Mycroft trailed off, the weight of his words hanging in the air. In that vulnerable admission, he revealed a layer of himself that rarely saw the light of day.
"It does. There is something so cozy about the festivities. You can't help but feel something magical could happen."
Your response held a warmth that echoed Mycroft's sentiment and he couldn’t help but think what his brother would say if he heard this conversation. There would be severe mocking, but Mycroft found he didn’t much care.
The moment between the two of you was abruptly shattered by an announcement over the lounge’s speaker, signaling the boarding call for passengers.
"Well… that's me." You rose from your seat, casting a bittersweet smile in Mycroft's direction. "It was lovely to meet you, Mycroft."
“You too.”
As you walked away, Mycroft's gaze lingered, and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. The encounter had been brief but had carried a weight of unexpected connection and shared sentiments. The lounge, once a stage for silent glances and meaningful conversation, now felt a bit emptier as you moved toward your departure gate.
The first-class lounge, adorned with holiday decorations and a twinkle of lights, returned to its bustling atmosphere as other passengers prepared for their journeys. Mycroft, still lost in thought, found himself contemplating the significance of the brief encounter and the unanswered questions that lingered in the air.
"What am I doing?" Mycroft muttered to himself, a sudden realisation propelling him to his feet. The urgency of his thoughts overrode any hesitation as he hurriedly headed after you. The encounter had left an impression, and he couldn't bear the idea of letting you simply walk out of his life.
The bustling atmosphere of the airport became a blur as Mycroft navigated through the crowd, his determined strides reflecting a sense of urgency that contrasted with his usual measured pace.
Mycroft reached your departure gate just in time to catch a glimpse of you preparing to board. With a breathless yet determined expression, he approached, the echoes of uncertainty and vulnerability replaced by a sense of purpose.
"Wait!”
70 notes · View notes