#gndw fic
Text
Something
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-Festive-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.
161 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here's The Way I Feel
Characters: Spencer Reid x reader
Summary: Spencer has been harboring a crush on his workmate for quite a while now, but after a case where he has to take her on multiple dates, and with the help of Derek Morgan, he can’t help but spill his secret.
Word Count: 2088 words
Prompt: Fluff. Fake dating. Falling asleep on them. Drunk confession.
A/N: @intense-socks (who has an excellent name btw) requested this little bit of fluffy Spencer for my latest follower milestone celebration, so, I hope you enjoy this one. If you do, then please reblog it.
There were definitely worse ways to spend an evening than sitting in a restaurant with your favourite co-worker. True, you were technically working, but aside from the occasional voice in your earpiece, you could easily forget that was the case. This was the third restaurant you had been to in as many days, and Hotch had certainly kept the best for last. The plush surroundings, the fancy menu with far too many fancy words to be understood by a mere mortal, the soft candlelight that created a distinctly romantic air, definitely the perfect hunting ground for your latest unsub.
Spencer was focusing on the menu, his fingers tapping lightly on the table as his right leg bounced beneath it. He tried to curtail his nervous energy, but being in this situation with you was such sweet torture. The past few days he had got to play out his daydreams of what it might be like if the two of you were actually together. He got to hold your hand, make you laugh, share stories and hold you close in ways he knew he shouldn’t want to. Each date had felt like a first. He agonized over what to wear, what to order, how far to compliment you. The complicated algebra of attraction was constantly running through his mind, trying, and failing, to prevent himself from falling for you more than he already had.
“Hey, Spence, you okay?” Your fingers grazed his and he had to suppress a shiver at your touch.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I was just wondering if it will be tonight.” He reached for his glass of wine with his other hand, not wanting to break contact with you if he could help it.
“Well, if you’re a very good boy, I’d say there is more than a chance tonight will be the night.” You smirked as he almost choked on his drink, eliciting laughter from you.
“Ooooh, pretty boy’s on a promise.” Morgan chuckled through the comms.
“Settle down.” Hotch’s voice sounded tired and it reminded you both why you were there. You were bait.
“How about you don’t focus on what may or may not happen later, just stay here in this moment with me? It’ll be more convincing.” You turned your hand, interlacing your fingers with his.
Convincing. That was the real problem here. It was easy for Spencer to convince people he was hopelessly in love with you, because it was true. The sticking point was that you were also incredibly convincing, and he knew it was an act. The soft smiles, the way your eyes lingered on his lips as he spoke, the light touch of your fingertips gliding over his skin, it was all a calculated act to make the unsub believe the two of you were a happy couple. An unsub who hated happy couples and had been torturing and killing them for the past few weeks.
Spencer pushed the unsub to the back of his mind, instead concentrating on each and every detail of you, committing it to his brilliant memory. The slight tilt of your head, the gentle curve of your lips, the melodic tone of your voice, the warmth of your hand in his. If he really concentrated, really stayed in this moment, he could almost fool himself into believing this was real.
Evidently, Spencer wasn’t the only one, because not two hours later you were arresting the unsub after he had abducted the two of you, leaving you both with a few cuts and bruises.
Back on the jet, and Spencer was lost in his thoughts. It wasn’t fair. He had now had a taste of how things could have been, how you could have looked at him if he was the type of guy who you would want.
“Mind if I sit here? They are just a little loud over there and I need a bit of peace.” You gave him a nervous smile, and Spencer moved his bag from the seat next to him so you could sit. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He gave you a soft smile then forced himself to stare at the open book in his hand, trying to ignore the way his whole body tingled whenever you accidentally brushed your arm or leg against his. Spencer was so deep in sculpting his denial that he failed to realise your head was resting against his shoulder. It wasn’t until he caught a soft snuffling snore that he looked over to find you fast asleep, curled up against him as if that was exactly where you belonged.
This was the first time you had ever fallen asleep on him, and he couldn’t help wonder if it was due to exhaustion or if this case had maybe bonded you more than he realised. Any one of the team could have looked over at the two of you and seen the total adoration in Spencer’s gaze as he watched you sleep, taking care with his movements to ensure he didn’t wake you. He had no idea if this moment would ever be repeated, so he soaked it in, desperately hoping it wouldn’t be, yet not brave enough to ask you for more.
It had been a long case, and it was very obvious after the flight that Spencer needed a little cheering up, after all, his little fantasy relationship had come to an end, so Derek suggested a beer. One beer turned into quite a few, along with whiskey chasers and then some shots which were colours that Spencer felt no drink should ever be. Although Spencer was not the most tolerant of alcohol, Morgan was also the wrong side of merry, which meant the blind was leading the blind as they ordered another round.
“You should tell her, man.” Morgan said for the millionth time that night, his hand coming to rest on Spencer’s shoulder a little heavier than he intended.
“Oh, yeah, that is a terrible idea. I should definitely not do that.” Spencer shook his head emphatically, almost knocking over his drink.
“You should. You should call right now and tell her. Then, if she laughs, which I know for a fact she won’t, you can just say you were very drunk.” The fact that Morgan was slurring his words right now should have alerted Reid as to how floored that logic was, but with both of them in a drunken haze it appeared to be a sound argument.
“Right now? I should call right now? It’s like… I don’t even know what time it is. What time is it?” He asked rather loudly, only to get a chorus of varying times around the 2am mark.
“Go on Pretty Boy! Call the girl.” Morgan took Reid’s phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he found yours, smirking when he saw the little love hearts after your name. The poor boy had it bad. “It’s ringing.” He stated, handing over the phone to a clearly flustered Spencer.
“Voicemail.” Spencer frowned, closing his eyes and basking in your voice until a harsh tone indicated it was his turn to speak. And speak he did.
When you woke, the light on your answer machine was flashing and you pressed play as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink. It was unusual that you hadn’t been woken by the phone ringing, you must have been in a really deep sleep. As soon as Spencer’s slightly slurred voice rang out through your apartment, you raced back to the machine, now wide awake.
“Hi. It’s me. It’s Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m leaving you a message on your voicemail because you haven’t picked up. Your message is funny though, and you sound really pretty. You always sound pretty. Anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to say. I have something to say, and so I am going to say it, because it needs to be said. I like you. Even when I try not to, I can’t help it, I just like you. Not that I have tried actively not liking you at all, just not like liking you. The truth of it is, I just like you. I feel like I’ve said like too many times now and I am not being clear. You just make me smile and happy and warm and nervous and, well, most of the time, I like you. I like being with you and I like listening to you and I like holding your hand and I like you. No. Like isn’t the word. I love you. I worship you. I am enamored with you. I am infatuated with you. You make me want to recite poetry but when you’re right there I get stupid and the words, the words they, they aren’t in my brain so they won’t come out right and I, I just needed to say that you are all the good words and, oh shit…”
The message cut off and you just stood blinking at the machine, not quite sure what the hell had just happened. It was entirely possible that the man you had been crushing on for the past year had just confessed he felt the same, or it might have been the ramblings of a drunk. There was only one way to find out.
Walking into the bullpen, it was incredibly obvious that Reid and Morgan were a little worse for wear.
“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me!” Penelope was pouting at Morgan, who was wearing sunglasses and clutching a large coffee.
“Baby girl, I’m gonna need you to take the volume down a little.” He mumbled, the scene causing you to smirk as you tossed your bag down by your desk.
“Boys night out? You know, you really should take Rossi with you on those, he’d keep you out of trouble.”
“Do you even know Rossi? He would get us into more trouble, then he would casually walk away and leave us there to deal with it.” Morgan groaned into his mug.
“Since when were you such a lightweight? I thought that was Reid.” You chuckled, moving to lean against Spencer’s desk.
“There were shots.” Spence croaked, his eyes still shut.
“Do you not like shots? I thought you might like them. I mean, you know, not like them like them, but just kinda like?” The furrow of Spencer’s brow caused your smile to grow as you saw him trying to figure out what you had just said. With his face scrunched, he opened his eyes and looked up at you.
“I have decided that I do not like shots.”
“Oh, so you’re not enamored with them? You aren’t infatuated with them?” You asked innocently, nudging the cup of coffee on his desk closer to Spencer’s hand. Your words had caught Morgan’s attention, and something sparked in his memory.
“Oh, shit. Pretty boy, voicemail.” A mixture of amusement and concern played on Morgans face as he tried to read the situation through the haze of his hangover.
“Voicemail?” Spencer was thoroughly lost in this conversation and, as usually the smartest person in the room, he really did not like it.
“You called someone last night, before you fell off the bar stool-“
“That’s why it cut off so suddenly! I was wondering about that.”
“I called you?” Spencer got to his feet so quickly his chair span as fast as the room was spinning in his head.
“Woah there.” You placed your hands on his biceps to steady him, wondering if you needed to grab the trashcan for him to throw up.
“I called you?” He asked again, panicked mortification in his tone and written all over his face.
“You did. It was actually a really nice thing to wake up to. I do have some questions though.”
“Questions?” Spencer was mentally kicking himself for not being able to form complete sentences, but the hangover combined with you still touching him, had drained his IQ immeasurably.
“Maybe you need to listen to the message, then you can answer. How about you come round to mine after work and we can grab something to eat, maybe have a Doctor Who marathon? Only if you feel up to it though.”
“Yes!” Spencer said far quicker and louder than he intended, wincing a little with embarrassment.
“Good. We’ll talk more about how you worship me then.” You winked and headed off to make a drink, chuckling to yourself as you heard Morgan teasing Spencer playfully.
675 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Little Comfort
Characters: George Weasley x reader
Summary: George Weasley finds himself longing for the comfort of being the little spoon, but his pride and embarrassment hold him back from asking. As he navigates his feelings, he discovers that vulnerability can lead to unexpected moments of intimacy.
Word Count: 1022 words
Prompt: Georgie wanting to be the little spoon but too embarrassed to ask. Just well built guy wanting spooned or to sit in your lap with his hair getting played with.
A/N: anon
George Weasley was many things: a prankster, an inventor, a loyal friend. But there was one thing he longed for more than anything else, something he kept hidden behind his confident facade—the desire to be cared for, to let his guard down and be wrapped up in the arms of someone who loved him. George Weasley just wanted to find love. It wasn't something he openly admitted to, especially not to his twin brother Fred, who would never let him live it down. George had always been the one to be the protector, but lately, he found himself yearning for the warmth and comfort of being held.
It was a quiet evening at The Burrow, the fire crackling in the hearth as George sat with his family, lost in his thoughts. He watched as his siblings and their significant others chatted and laughed, envy gnawing at him as he longed for the kind of closeness they shared.
As the night wore on, George found himself drawn to the idea of being held more and more. He imagined the feeling of strong arms wrapped around him, the gentle strokes of fingers through his hair, and the soothing rhythm of a heartbeat against his back. But admitting his desire felt like an insurmountable hurdle. What would his people think? Would they mock him mercilessly, or worse, pity him for his vulnerability? George couldn't bear the thought of being seen as weak, even if it meant denying himself the comfort he craved.
The days passed, and George's longing only grew stronger. He tried to bury his feelings beneath layers of humor and bravado, but they lingered in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of what he was denying himself. Every person who crossed his path was assessed for romantic partner potential, but nobody seemed to measure up.
One evening, as the family gathered for dinner at The Burrow. Charlie had brought one of his many friends with him and George found himself sitting next to you. He stole glances at you when he thought no one was looking, admiring the way your eyes sparkled with laughter and the way your smile lit up the room. This wasn’t the first time you had been a guest of the Weasley family but there was something different this time, something that seemed to call out to George, drawing him in.
As the meal progressed, George's desire to be near you grew almost unbearable. He could hardly concentrate on the conversation, his mind consumed with thoughts of you holding him close, your soft touch soothing his troubled heart. But as much as he longed for it, George couldn't bring himself to ask. The fear of rejection, of being laughed at or dismissed, held him back, trapping him in a cycle of longing and self-doubt.
After dinner, as the family dispersed to their various activities, George found himself alone with you in the living room. The fire cast a warm glow over the room, bathing everything in a soft, flickering light.
"Hey, George," you said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. "Are you okay? You seem a bit...distracted tonight."
George hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to confide in you. But something in your eyes, the genuine concern and warmth you showed him, gave him the courage to speak.
"I...I've been feeling a bit off lately," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just...struggling with some things, you know?"
You nodded sympathetically, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm here if you want to talk about it," you offered gently. “I know we’ve never really talked, but, and don’t tell Charlie this, you are most likely my favourite Weasley.”
George felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of his unspoken desires pressing down on him.
“Thanks. I mean, for the talking and the favourite thing.” His cheeks flushed a little as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. You were always so kind to him, it was no surprise he seemed to have developed a bit of a crush on you. “Things have just been a little…” he trailed off; his brow furrowed.
“Stressful? I know you must be feeling a little like a third wheel now Fred and Angelina are together. It’ll be fine though, just focus on what you want.”
George considered your words, and, in a moment of bravery, he blurted out what he had been so desperately trying to keep in; too afraid to confess.
"I...I want to be the little spoon," he confessed, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
To his surprise, you didn't laugh or mock him. Instead, you smiled softly, your eyes shining with understanding and compassion.
"George," you said, your voice soft and reassuring. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be held. Everyone needs comfort sometimes, even the strongest among us. I think you’d make quite a good little spoon.”
With those words, something inside George shifted. The weight of his fears began to lift, replaced by a sense of relief and acceptance. He had bared his soul to you, and instead of ridiculing him, you had embraced him with open arms.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Without hesitation, you pulled him into a warm embrace, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. George leaned into your touch, savoring the feeling of being held, his eyes closing as he wrapped his arms around you in return.
Several hours later, Charlie wandered through the living room, his eyebrow raising and a smirk playing on his lips at the scene before him. The two of you were lay on the sofa, half asleep. You were stroking George’s hair and whispering words of comfort, while George’s eyes were closed, a contented smile on his lips and a sense of peace washing over him. Charlie slowly backed out of the room, leaving the two of you in peace. He’d always wondered how long it would take you and George to get together, and now it didn’t seem like he’d have to wait much longer for that answer.
137 notes
·
View notes
Text
If You Love Her
Characters: Spencer Reid x reader
Summary: Morgan tries to set up Spencer and Reader in the hopes that all they need to get together is a little push. Little does he know, they’ve been together for a while.
Word Count: 948 words
Prompt: secret relationship, fierce kiss, chaste kiss, falling asleep, only one bed.
A/N: This is for the magnificent @marvellover-12 and fabulous @kalliblast as part of my ‘build-a-blurb’ follower celebration.
He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell for you; it could have been the first time you smiled at him, or when you understood his random Doctor Who reference, perhaps it was the many times you had playfully defended him against Morgan’s teasing. More likely it was a combination of all the little moments, the shy glances, the brush of your hand against his. Spencer knew that finding the exact moment was not important, he was completely in love with you, and he knew you felt the same way.
The past few months had been like a beautiful dream. Secret coffee runs, elaborate excuses as to why neither of you could join the team for drinks, stolen kisses in the break room. This was all so new, and it had been agreed that you didn’t want to share it just yet. Better to see how things progressed, build a solid foundation before you had the team interrogating you both. Not that your behaviour had gone unnoticed.
Being pulled from his bed to jet across the country was never Spencer’s favourite thing; sleep being quite a rare commodity for him at times, yet here he was. The flight was going to be a long one, and after a briefing and looking over the notes he had found his head growing heavy. Stifling another yawn, Spencer tried his best to keep his eyes from closing, aware of Morgan’s studying gaze on him.
A weight suddenly fell on his shoulder, and he glanced down in surprise, smiling softly when he realised you had nodded off and were now using him as an impromptu pillow. Shifting a little, he made sure you were comfy before leaning his cheek against the top of your head. This wouldn’t be the first time a team-mate had fallen asleep in him, so he figured nobody would be suspicious. As he drifted to sleep, he couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling reassured by your presence.
Morgan watched the two of you curiously. He was well aware of Spencer’s not so subtle crush on you, hell, he’d teased the boy enough about it. The boy genius seemed to drop iq points around you like a tree in fall, not to mention the stuttering over his words. He had to admit though, that over the last few months, the boy wonder seemed to have got his shit together a little better, though the longing looks across the bullpen and the dreamy smile on his lips had only gotten worse. Penelope seemed convinced that his feelings were reciprocated, but nothing would happen as neither of you was the type to make the first move. No, what you needed was a push; the whole team agreed.
You shifted in your sleep, your arm coming up to rest around Spencer’s waist as you let out a soft sigh. Morgan nudged JJ, nodding at the two of you with a smirk, which was quickly dropped when the two of them witnessed Spencer turn his head and place a tender, chaste kiss to the top of your head. It was a gesture of such familiarity and intimacy that Morgan had to grab onto JJ to stop her letting out an excited squeal. Yeah, it was incredibly cute, but it was hardly a conscious act. It did, however, show promise. Perhaps sleepy Spencer would be more open to making that first move, and that is how the ‘fool proof’ plan came to be.
If felt like the longest day ever by the time the team rolled up to the motel. Early morning flights combined with a full day wading through the horrific atrocities left by this killer meant that everyone was practically dead on their feet.
“I’ve got two doubles and the rest are singles, so fight it out amongst yourselves.” Hotch said tiredly as he grabbed a key to a single room and padded off down the corridor.
“Rossi?” Morgan picked up a key and nodded towards the corridor.
“Seriously? Can’t you share with Spence?” the older man grumbled.
“Oh, hell no! Not making that mistake again.” Morgan chuckled, glancing over at JJ.
“You two don’t mind sharing do you? I just want to talk to Will and maybe do that ‘falling asleep together over video call’ thing?” She looked at you both hopefully and it took everything he had to stop Spencer agreeing immediately.
“Sure, I don’t mind sharing with Spencer. I can always get him to read to me.” You chuckled as you picked up the final key. “Come on then roomie, I get first pick of bed though.”
As soon as the motel door closed, Spencer had tossed your bags into the room and cupped your face with his freezing cold hands. You were about to protest when his lips caught yours in a searing kiss that made your lack of sleep and the temperature of his hands irrelevant. Stumbling over to the bed, still tangled up in each other, it took you a few moments to realise that this room only had one bed.
“Do you think they know?” Spencer asked, looking at you with a hint of concern in his eyes.
“About us or about there only being one bed?” You asked with a growing smirk. “Do you think Morgan and Rossi are having the same conversation?”
“You think it’s a genuine mix up?”
“I think it doesn’t matter. I think that I get to share a bed with my gorgeous boyfriend and the BAU picks up the bill.”
“Okay, but we’ll have to be quiet, we don’t know how thin these walls are.” Spencer grinned before pushing you back onto the bed and resuming his kisses.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Under The Umbrella
Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader
Summary: Mycroft shares a cigarette with you outside 221B, and feelings are felt if not expressed.
Word Count: 1013 words
Prompt: Sharing a cigarette with him under his umbrella just outside 221B; romantic but not official yet.
A/N: @russian-soft-bitch thank you for this request. I know it has taken me a while but I really like what I’ve written, and I hope you do too.
The landscape was grey, from the rolling clouds right down to the dirty slab laden pavements, the buildings merging into the murky mistiness of the day to create a swirling vortex of drab and dreariness which was the city of London. There was a chill in the air, despite the lack of wind; the heavy drops of rain hurtling down towards the ground on a straight trajectory, bouncing up from whichever surface they reached first. The ground shimmered lightly as the streetlights began to glow, reflected in the growing pools of water, the gloom creating the illusion that the hour was much later than the 4pm it truly was.
You pulled your coat tighter in a vain attempt to stave off the chill, a light shiver rippling through your body. Mycroft noticed your actions, frowning slightly, causing his brow to furrow in a rather endearing manner. A sudden warmth around your neck had you looking up as he nonchalantly draped his scarf around you with one hand, his other holding his umbrella. The soft cashmere smelled of his aftershave and you found your eyes fluttering closed as you inhaled deeply for a moment.
Upon opening your eyes, you saw him watching you with amusement, his face illuminated by the glowing embers of the cigarette between his lips. After taking a drag, he languidly removed the cigarette with his gloved fingers, the soft leather creaking slightly, bending and flexing around his digits as he offered the filter to you.
The sheets of rain cascaded around the pair of you, bouncing up from the ground to soak through the bottoms of your trousers and your socks. Neither of you registered the discomfort of your damp clothing clinging to your ankles. Instead, the rhythmical, soft thudding of raindrops pounding against the black umbrella he held aloft over the two of you had become your own personal soundtrack, covering the silence that blanketed your interaction, leaving only soft looks and a tantalizing tension which always seemed to indicate this was more than an acquaintance, more than two people simply in his brother’s orbit.
You took the cigarette from him, shuffling a little closer, but always careful never to make physical contact. There was always a buffer of a few inches between the two of you, something you both subconsciously maintained at all times.
He watched as your fingers raised the cigarette to your lips; unable to look away from the gentle pout, the softness of your lips, the intimacy of the gesture. Mycroft was aware of your chest rising as you inhaled, despite the many layers of clothing you were wearing, and he felt his stomach flip. Transfixed, he watched the way the thick white smoke curled from your mouth, almost taunting him. That smoke which had tenderly caressed your lips in a way he often wished he had the right to do, met with the chilly air, rising through the damp until it encountered the rain. His gaze was still on your mouth, his own lips parting slightly as his imagination began to run away with him.
How easy it would be to take you in his arms, to hold you close, to finally give in and taste your kiss instead of just fantasising about it. This moment, right here, where the two of you existed only beneath the shelter of his umbrella, would be perfect, if he could only find the courage to step off the emotional ledge. Yet, his fear of falling was too great. The humiliation of potential rejection stung as if it were real, and he simply took the cigarette from you and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves.
Neither of you pointed out that you had your own cigarettes, or that he had a packet in his inside jacket pocket which would allow you to each smoke separately. This was not the first time the two of you had shared a moment like this, although the rain was a new touch. The easy silence between you where all the things unsaid existed was an addiction neither of you wished to give up. The strange thing was, this was now the only time either of you smoked. A cigarette was just an excuse, a reason for you to linger there with him, and he with you.
People hurried past as you both stood at the bottom of the steps up to 221, neither of you in any hurry to leave. Sadly, the cigarette was burning down, now dangerously close to the filter, the excuse to remain was disappearing as the ash fell, seemingly disintegrating in the air as your time together came to an end.
Mycroft’s brow furrowed, and, for a brief moment, you both thought he might say something, but the words never came. Instead, you removed his scarf, offering it back to him with a soft, grateful smile.
“Keep it.” His voice was low, a little gravel making its way into his tone before he coughed to clear his throat. “Your need is greater.”
You simply nodded, wrapping the scarf around you once more, and then the two of you parted company.
Mycroft fought the urge to turn and watch you leave; he preferred to imagine you there one moment and then gone the next as if by magic. That made all the times he imagined you being by his side easier somehow. He held onto the spent cigarette, the stain of your chap-stick the only evidence that you had really been there with him this time. Pulling his cigarette packet from his jacket, he carefully slipped the butt into it, wanting to carry around a tiny part of you just for a little longer.
Perhaps, one day, these encounters may end differently. Perhaps there would come a time when nicotine would not be the thing that joined the two of you. For now, though, Mycroft made sure he always carried a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, just on the off chance your paths crossed and he could steal some time with you.
148 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here, There And Everywhere
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.
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
Darling, You're The One I Want
Characters: Remus Lupin x reader
Summary: Remus adores his best friend, but that’s totally normal, right?
Word Count: 1999 words
Prompt: Fluff. Best friends. A fierce kiss. Falling asleep on them. Holding hands when stressed.
A/N: @the-abyss-gazed-back requested this little bit of Remus for my follower milestone celebration, and I am DEEP in a Hogwarts hole right now, and this one got away from me a little. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and if you do then please reblog!
“Remus, come on!”
Turning his head, a smile pulled at his lips as he spotted you sprinting down the hall towards him, Sirius and James right behind. It took him a moment to register that you were being pursued by at least six fifth year Slytherin students and his smile dropped as his eyes widened. It wasn’t until he felt your hand grabbing his as you passed by, that his body caught up to the situation and he found himself running by your side as your friends laughed behind him.
“Why are we running?” He asked in confusion, unsure quite how he was now part of this situation.
“Sirius.” That was all the explanation you offered, and it was all that he needed to know. Probably had something to do with Snape, but details could wait.
As you rounded a corner, he tugged you into an alcove hidden behind an intricate tapestry. Watching as you leaned back against the wall, trying to catch your breath, he couldn’t help admire the way your lips parted, a smile playing on them as you desperately attempted to stay quiet. It was moments like this he thought about how the two of you had become such close friends in the first place.
“I don’t think this stuff is working.” Peter frowned as he blew out a plume of smoke thoughtfully.
“I think it’s working just fine.” Sirius grinned, reaching over and plucking the joint from Peter’s fingers and taking another long drag. “This, my man, is the good shit.”
“You do know we will be in trouble if we’re caught here.” Peter frowned, glancing over to the side of the bridge, hoping a gargoyle wasn’t about to alert the prefects or staff to their presence.
“Yeah, it will be the location we get in trouble for, not the smoking pot.” James chuckled, taking the joint from Sirius as he leaned against the wooden frame.
“It is rather a long way down.” Remus hummed thoughtfully as he peered over the edge and immediately wished he hadn’t. Scrambling a little further back, he gave his friends a sheepish smile.
“You’re not supposed to be out here.” An unfamiliar voice stated, a hint of amusement clear in their tone, followed by a giggle as the four boys frantically looked around for the speaker.
“You gonna grass on us?” Peter asked indignantly, trying to hide his panic.
“Well, if I did that, then I’d have to admit I was out here too. Mutually assured destruction. Not sure I’m up for that tonight.” You appeared floating by the bridge having been out for a sneaky late-night flight.
“Ah, then we can be confident in your silence.” Sirius shot you a dashing smile, leaning a little further out on the side of the bridge.
“I won’t tell, if you don’t.” You returned his smile. “Goodnight, gentlemen. Don’t stay out here too long, they are due to walk the grounds in twenty minutes.” And with that you were gone.
The boys all leaned out over the side to try and catch a glimpse of where you’d disappeared to with varying degrees of curiosity.
“Who was that?” Remus asked in awe, his eyes squinting as he fought to spot you in the shadows.
“Not a clue, mate, but they’re cool. Come on, let’s finish this and get inside before we get in real trouble.”
After that encounter, Remus had spent weeks trying to track you down, catching glimpses of you in the corridors or across the gardens, but never catching up with you. He had started to feel a little like he was stalking you, but he was just so intrigued. This game of cat and mouse went on for a month, and then he literally bumped into you in the library and that had been it, you’d been best friends ever since. It was rare for one of you to be seen without the other, joined at the hip, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Well, part of him would like it another way, but he would never acknowledge that because then everything would be ruined. Like right now, you had both been reading in the common room, in front of the fire, and he had slowly felt you leaning against him more. The weight of your head against his shoulder made his heart race, and he stole glances when he was certain you had fallen asleep. Remus would happily forego sleep if it meant he could just sit and watch you breathing with that peaceful look on your face.
Carefully, he shifted position on the sofa, laying down with your head resting on his chest. He reasoned that this was a more comfortable position for you, it definitely had nothing to do with wanting to hold you close at all. As the fire crackled, Remus brushed the hair from your face, allowing his fingertips to ghost lightly over your cheek. You were the most beautiful person he had ever met, and it was such a privilege to have you this close, especially knowing what he was. You never judged, never looked at him with pity. He adored you, that was why you were his best friend.
“You can not be serious.” Remus looked at his friends with a weariness that failed to hide his amusement.
“Come on, Mooney. Or are you scared?” James grinned, knowing that you would all end up joining in on this stupidity.
“It’s going to be bloody freezing.”
“There could be rocks.” Peter’s brow furrowed slightly as he gazed down into the water.
“Only one way to find out.” Sirius took off towards the top of the ledge, letting out a whoop as he leapt. The four of you rushed to the edge and heard the ‘splash’ when he hit the water. Holding your breath, you waited for him to emerge, laughing when he finally did.
“COME ON THEN!” He yelled up as he tread water, trying not to let on how cold the lake was.
Before anyone could say anything, James sprinted past and leapt.
“Bloody hell.” Peter grumbled, knowing he would never live it down if he didn’t do it now. Taking a few steps back, he began to run before launching himself off into the air, screaming all the way down to the water.
You took up position for a run up and Remus shook his head.
“You too?” He had hoped, rather vainly, that you would be the perfect excuse for him not to jump into the Black Lake in the middle of February, but now you were going to be the only reason he would do this.
“See you down there.” You grinned before heading to the ledge.
“Shit.” He sighed, chuckling to himself when he heard the chorus of ‘Remus! Remus! Remus!’ coming from the water below. “I am going to regret this.” He mumbled before taking the leap to join his friends.
As much as Remus felt you pushed him to be braver, you also prevented him from dying of stupidity. He knew this lesson would be tense, hated knowing that the whole class was about to learn how much of a monster he truly was, even if they didn’t realise it. His body was a ball of anxiety as soon as he opened his book to the page indicated. Werewolves. He was aware of glances from Sirius and James, very aware of Peter looking anywhere but at him. Heat began to creep up his neck and he stared at the page in front of him, wondering if anyone had stared words off a page before.
The lesson seemed to last an eternity, going into detail about how monstrous these creatures were, how sly and duplicitous. The idea that such a demon could hide in plain sight until the full moon sent a ripple of murmurs through the class and Remus ground his teeth, his jaw set as he forced himself to remain calm. Nothing good would come from him losing it right now. Gripping his thigh tightly, he dug his nails in to feel something other than the total humiliation and shame of knowing this lesson was about him.
It took him a moment to realise there was a warm pressure against the back of his hand. Glancing down, a little surprised, he saw your hand resting on his own. Turning his head a little, he looked at you from the corner of his eye and frowned slightly as you seemed to be watching the Professor rather passively. Twisting his hand, he felt your palm rest in his as your fingers interlaced with his own, giving it a light squeeze, and it felt like he could breathe. That simple contact made him feel less alone, like he was redeemable in some way because if someone like you was unafraid to hold his hand then he couldn’t be all that bad, right?
Your hand remained resolutely in his throughout the rest of the lesson, and he didn’t care that Sirius spotted it and smirked while raising his eyebrow suggestively. This had been a hard lesson, and knowing you were there for him made it lighter somehow. That was when he knew he was done for. He wanted more of these moments with you, more reassurance, more feeling safe. Remus wanted all the complicated moments and all the mundane moments to be shared with you, as more than just his best friend.
The lesson finished, but Remus kept hold of your hand.
“I need to talk to you about something.” He said earnestly, knowing he had to tell you while he still had the courage to.
“Okay. We can talk.” You gave him a reassuring smile and he quickly turned and shoved everything in his bag before taking your hand again and dragging you through the castle, looking for a quiet corner where nobody would bother you.
He didn’t stop until he got to a fourth floor corridor and pulled you into a small storage room, and then all his courage seemed to dissipate, leaving him running his hands through his hair and pacing.
“Remus? Come on, you can talk to me about anything. What’s going on?” You moved a little closer, tentatively reaching out for his hand once more.
This contact made him still as he looked at your hand in his. Suddenly it was all so simple. He didn’t have the vocabulary to even begin to tell you how he felt, but perhaps he could show you.
Without a word, he cupped your cheek and moved into your personal space so quickly you didn’t have time to register what was happening until your back was pressed firmly against a wall and Remus’ lips were devouring yours in such a heated, passionate kiss it stole your breath. As you gasped, he took full advantage and deepened the kiss, leaving your head spinning. This kiss was claiming and hopeful and desperate all at once. You weren’t entirely sure how long the two of you were kissing but when he did eventually pull back, he looked wrecked, his hair disheveled, his lips swollen as he panted for breath.
“Bloody hell, Remmy.” You puffed, breathy giggles falling from you.
“I-I’m sorry.” He began to back away, but you pulled him close again.
“For what? For kissing me so thoroughly that you’ve ruined me for all other men for the rest of my life?”
“I was going to apologise for over stepping, but your reason sounds so much better.” He gave you a shy smile, not entirely sure he was reading the situation right.
“Well, you’re just gonna have to be the only person who kisses me from now on, just to prevent me being disappointed.” A smile grew on your face as he rested his forehead against yours.
“Darling, I would hate for you to be disappointed.” He hummed as he nuzzled your nose, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he leaned in for another kiss.
332 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Girl
Characters: Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: Just some fluff about Bucky slowly realising why he feels so happy lately.
Word Count: 1228 words
Prompt: My Girl by the Temptations.
A/N: This is another one for the amazingly wonderful @caplanbuckybarnes and the fabulous #cappys decades challenge that I hoarded a whole load of prompts from because they were all so darn good.
Sam was the first to notice. Of course he was, the observant bastard was always monitoring his friend, making sure he was doing okay. What he hadn’t expected to see was the softness in Bucky’s expression as he watched you stir your drink. There was a hint of a smile on his lips and tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes; eyes which were usually quite icy now thawing the longer you were in his line of sight. At first, Sam wanted to use this to his advantage, tease his friend and maybe push him towards being a little bolder, but then he saw how quickly Bucky looked away from you when you glanced in their direction. No, now was not the time for brotherly annoyance, he would just sit back and watch things progress.
Sitting by the window, Bucky watched the flurries of snow dance in the air before joining the drifts forming on the ground. Despite the warm drink in his hands, and the several layers of clothing he was wearing, he shivered at the chill. It was a little ironic that the former Winter Soldier was not a fan of the cold that came with his seasonal namesake. A soft scowl rested on his face, as if he could scare away the chill in the air if he just glared enough.
“Hey.” Your sweet voice caused his frown to melt and he turned to greet you. Just seeing your face seemed to make his day brighter and he felt suddenly very warm. Certainly warm enough that when he noticed you shiver, he pulled his hoodie over his head and offered it to you. The warmth within him only grew as he watched you slip into it, seeing you wear his clothes was something he could definitely get used to.
“Thanks.” You murmured from the warm depths of the hoodie that surrounded you with the smell of Bucky Barnes.
“No problem, doll.” He gave you a lazy smile, which only grew when you snuggled into his side. Nervously, he stretched out his arm and carefully rested it around your shoulders. Placing his cheek against the top of your head, he allowed himself this one moment of total peace, let himself imagine this was how his life turned out; sitting watching the snow fall while snuggled up to the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.
Zemo was flirting with you, again, and that irked Bucky. No, that wasn’t entirely what was getting to him, though it did play a big part. Zemo was flirting with you, and you were amused by it. He didn’t think you were really interested in the newest addition to your merry band, but there was something about how easy the banter between the two of you was that unsettled him.
Hearing your laughter ring out caused him to huff and fold his arms over his chest, his back resolutely to the two of you as he glared at the coffee table. He knew he was being ridiculous, you weren’t betraying him by being nice to that asshole, but knowing someone else was responsible for your smile was like a thousand papercuts to his lungs.
“What’s up, grumpy cat?” You asked, dropping onto the sofa beside him and automatically leaning into his side.
“Nothing.” He grumbled, even though he could feel his bad mood dissipating at your touch. Bucky hated how easily you could affect him and his mood, and you had no clue.
“You wanna tell that pretty face of yours that then? Seriously, you look like you’re about to kick a hole in that coffee table.” You smiled, looking up at him from where your head rested on his shoulder.
“Well, maybe me and that coffee table have beef.” He smirked, looking down at you, and suddenly all his worries and insecurities disappeared. Your cheek was smushed against him and there was such a soft look in your eyes as you tried to cheer up your friend.
“I see. You two go way back? Well, if you’ve got beef with the coffee table, then I guess I do too.” You sighed dramatically before resting your feet heavily on said table.
“So, you’re gonna hate a piece of furniture just because I do?”
“That’s how this works. This coffee table has insulted you in some way so now it has to deal with me. I mean, you just said you hated it! That’s some pretty big feelings there.”
“Yeah. Pretty big feelings.” He hummed, his gaze returning to the table where his feet now rested beside yours.
Bucky hated this place. The music was too loud, the lights ranged from too bright to none existent, too many people, too much stimulation for the senses. He hunched over the bar, both hands gripping the beer bottle, a scowl on his face.
“Hey, where’s your girl?” Zemo asked with a knowing smile, leaning between Bucky and Sam, resting his arms companionably around them both.
“She’s not mine.” Bucky growled.
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Zemo grinned, reached for a drink from the bar and sauntered off.
“He is such a-“
“Yeah, he is, but he might just be right about this one.” Sam frowned, watching Zemo head towards the dance floor.
“What do you mean?” Bucky looked at his friend guardedly. Had he really been that obvious? If Zemo knew, and Sam knew, did that mean you knew too?
“Come on man, you telling me that you still don’t get it after all this time? I’ve seen how you look at her, how you are around her. You really gonna stand there and tell me the world doesn’t go a little fuzzy round the edges when she smiles at you?”
“Tha- I’m- I-“ Bucky spluttered, trying to find the words to defend himself without Sam catching him in an outright lie.
“You are so whipped.” Sam chuckled, “Not that you’re the only one.”
“Zemo definitely has a thing for her.” Bucky nodded, no longer denying his own feelings.
“Wasn’t talking about him! Seriously, you’ve not seen the way she is when Sharon’s around? When Sharon flirts with you, she gets the same look you do when Zemo flirts with her. You’re both idiots.”
“Who are idiots?” Your voice had both men turning in your direction, wondering just how much of their conversation you might have overheard.
“Anyone who wants to hit the dancefloor.” Sam smirked, knowing you would take that as a personal challenge.
“Oh, well, in that case, come on Buck. Me, you, dancing. It’s happening.” You held out your hand to him, and despite not wanting to dance in the slightest, he took it and allowed you to lead the way. Turning to look at Sam over his shoulder, he saw his friend giving him two thumbs up and he rolled his eyes.
The beat thrummed through the floor and as the two of you swayed to the music Bucky did indeed feel the edges of the world growing fuzzy. Even more so when you slipped your arms around him and invaded his personal space like you had every right to be there. Brushing your hair from your face, Bucky was vaguely aware of the goofy grin on his own. You were ‘his girl’. Now all he had to do was tell you that, and hope you felt the same way.
422 notes
·
View notes
Text
Now and Then
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.
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
Waiting For A Love Like This
Characters: Sam Winchester x reader
Summary: Sam has been in love with his best friend for so long that loving them is like breathing. He has successfully kept the depth of his feelings hidden, but there’s only so long you can hold back those three words before they find a way to escape.
Word Count: 1547 words
Prompt: Fluff. Best friends. Kiss without thinking. Sharing clothes. Blurted out confession.
A/N: @princessmisery666 and @witchygagirl both hit me up with similar prompts for this one, so I squished them together to create this fluff for you.
“I love you.”
The world stood still, time stopped and now those words were out of his mouth Sam wished he could have just swallowed them down, like every other time they had nearly escaped him. Holding his breath, his wide eyes, filled with panic, met yours.
He watched as you tried to figure out if he had really just thrown that grenade into your friendship, if he had really been stupid enough to actually confess his feelings and ruin a relationship that had become so important to both of you over the years. He took in the tremble of your lip as your mouth opened slightly, no words forthcoming. He took in the slight furrow of your brow, one which he knew from experience indicated a high level of confusion. He took in the way you just stood there, staring at him, and although his lungs burned for him to take a breath, he had simply forgotten how.
He should have just kept his feelings for you to himself instead of blurting them out, but now it was too late.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t been in love with you for years, hiding his adoration for fear of losing you. Sam hadn’t realised he’d fallen for you at first. You had slipped into his life so easily, seemed like you had always been right there, and your friendship was important to him. You were his best friend. He could vent to you in ways he couldn’t with Dean, but he didn’t like to be weak in front of you, wanted you to think he was brave and could protect you, not that you needed it.
The first time he had really opened up to you had been after a particularly traumatic hunt. A hunt that had you all driving in silence for the long hours of the night, nobody sleeping as the images of dead children played any time your eyes closed. As soon as you got to the bunker, he was out of the Impala, grabbing his bag and disappearing at a rate only those ridiculously long legs could manage.
You had found him though, sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled up to his chest as he silently sobbed. He hated that you saw him like this; hated that he didn’t want you to leave. Sam felt you settle down beside him on the cold tiles, felt your hand come to rest on his back, stroking soft small circles against the flannel as your own tears fell.
When he had gathered himself together enough to stop crying, he sat up, resting his head back against the wall as his eyes scrunched closed. He felt you shift then, and part of him wanted to reach for you, to keep you with him. Sam heard your footsteps walk out of the room and he cursed himself for being so pathetic, for being so weak. So deep in this spiral of regret and grief, he didn’t register your return, until you were crouched in front of him, something clutched in your hands.
“You’re shivering.” You said softly. “Take off that shirt and put this on.”
Sam looked at the soft grey material you held out to him. It was a hoodie he had leant you a while ago, and had been fairly certain would never be returned to him. Without a word, he removed his shirt and pulled on the hoodie.
The first thing that hit him was the way the fabric smelled of you. It was gentle and reassuring, a comfort which combined with the warmth to make him feel as if he was wrapped in you. As his head emerged from the confines of this new comfort cocoon, he was greeted with the sight of you shrugging on his discarded shirt, an image that would be seared into his memory. There was just something about seeing you wearing his clothes, and that was when he realised that this was so much more than friendship on his part. He liked the idea of you being his. The pain of the hunt now receded, the anxiety of his new discovery dwarfing it so easily. He was in love with his best friend. He was in love with you, and he could never tell you!
The problem was, now he knew what he was feeling, it was like those three words fought to get out, to be heard and acknowledged. Lay in a motel bed, Sam rested an arm behind his head as he closed his eyes and smiled to himself. He could hear the soft clanking of the pipes as lukewarm water made their way to the slightly rusty showerhead. He could hear the soft pattering of water against the flimsy shower curtain. He could hear you singing to yourself, and that was enough to put a goofy smile on his face. It was all too easy to imagine you in there, shampoo in your hair as you put on a dramatic rendition of your favourite ‘go-to’ shower songs. Not that Sam was thinking about you being naked in there! Fuck. Now he was thinking about you being naked in there, and that brought a heat to his cheeks he was unprepared for.
“What’s up with you?” Dean asked as he wandered into the room, arms clutching paper bags filled with whatever he’d managed to find for breakfast.
Those words had nearly escaped him, he had been so close to simply saying to his big brother, ‘I’m in love’. Instead, Sam ended up having a coughing fit as he scrambled to get out of bed and put all thoughts of you and showers out of his mind.
Dean wasn’t the only person he nearly confessed to. The two of you had been researching in the library, a comfortable quiet, broken only by the turning of pages and the occasional sigh of frustration. Due to the lack of windows in the bunker, time seemed to hold no meaning and Sam could not say for certain, without checking his watch, just how long you had been at this. What he did know, was that you’d reached your limit.
Putting his book down, he stretched his arms over his head and rolled his shoulders. Looking over to you, he had intended to ask if you’d found anything, only to find you had fallen asleep. Your arms were folded over your book, and your head rested on them. Your hair was messy, and he wasn’t entirely certain, but it was possible you were drooling slightly. A soft smile played on his lips as he found himself just watching you sleep. You looked so peaceful, and Sam longed to be able to watch you sleep every night.
“Have you found what you were looking for?” Cas asked, breaking Sam from his revery.
Again, those words were on the tip of his tongue, but he fought them back. He knew if they made it out into the world that he was done for, that he would be made to tell you and then there would be no more of these moments. Instead, he simply said ‘no’, then got to his feet and began putting books away.
Things had been going so well. Sam had managed to hold back his confession and the two of you were closer than ever, then that damned demon had taken him down.
Another motel, another bathroom, another patch up job. He had sat dutifully on the side of the bath as you bathed the cuts on his shoulders and the one on his forehead, as well as his burst lip. He tried not to think about how close you were stood, about how gentle your touch was, how warm your breath felt against his bare skin. His fingers itched to rest on your hips, to pull you closer, to feel you pressed against him, so he gripped the edge of the bath a little tighter, an action you mistook for pain.
“There, all done.” You said softly, leaning forward and placing a kiss to his forehead and then to his sore lip. Both kisses were brief, fleeting, done without thought. You had simply been ‘kissing him better’, but the small action had caused his brain to short circuit.
“I love you.”
Sam hadn’t been certain he’d said it out loud for a fraction of a second, and then his world collapsed in on itself as he tried to read your reaction. This was it. You would probably be polite about things, pull away from him slowly before disappearing from his life and becoming just a memory.
“I love you too.” Your words were whispered, and it wasn’t until he felt your fingers running through his hair that he allowed himself to believe this was real.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The two of you just looked at each other for a while before smiles spread across your faces and laughter erupted, eradicating the tension that had once been so thick.
“Wait, you know that I mean I love you in a romantic way, right? Not in a ‘friend’ way.”
“Yeah, Sammy, I got that.”
“Good.” His hands found their way to your hips, and he pulled you close, gazing at you in pure adoration. Maybe he should have told you sooner.
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Wanna Be Your Man
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.
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
Because
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
Text
Hello, Goodbye
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
Text
In My Life
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
Text
Across The Universe
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.
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
And I Love Her
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
Last Seen Blogs
andro-dino
♠️ dino ♥️
newjournalisttoday
제목 없음
golden-whatsapp
وتساب بلس الذهبي
tameodesza
in shawn michaels we trust
into-blk
INTO-BLK