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cherienymphe · 3 years

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Fallen Angels (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Bucky, mentions of kidnapping, NON-CON, trusting reader

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

This takes place in the same universe as Protect & Serve. You don’t need to read Protect & Serve to follow along as this takes place before Protect & Serve

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Bucky thinks you’re the sweetest thing to grace this earth, and he’ll do the unspeakable to get what he wants

You heaved another sigh as you made your way up the steps to the police station. It was warm out, a soft breeze ruffling the bottom of your dress. The sun beat down on your face, making you squint, the heat only adding to your annoyance. You didn’t even know why you got annoyed anymore. It wasn’t as if this was exactly new for you.

“Y/N!”

You threw the woman behind the counter a small strained smile, shoulders sagging as you approached her.

“Hi, Jane,” you sadly said. “I’m here for my sister.”

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, nodding while returning your strained smile.

“Of course.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, turning away as she disappeared into the back. You swallowed, briefly reaching up to rub your forehead and resisted the urge to a sigh again. You couldn’t believe that you had to leave work yet again to come and deal with your sister’s neverending drama.

You turned as soon as you heard a door open, watching a familiar face bring another familiar face into the room, his large frame making her look small. Officer Barnes greeted you with his usual smile while you returned it with a sheepish one. How many times had you watched him carry her through that door? How many times had you felt sheer embarrassment at her behavior?

“Where was she?” you quietly asked.

“Stumbling through the park,” he said with a shrug.

“Thank you,” you breathed, genuinely meaning it. “I can never thank you enough.”

How many times had you thanked him?

“Hey,” your sister slurred, eyes bleary as she struggled in his firm hold, legs trembling. “Don’t talk about me...like I’m not here.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, and she rolled her eyes, head falling back.

You reached for her, but Officer Barnes shook his head.

“Let me help her to your car. It’s the least I can do,” he said.

You started to argue, but decided against it and swallowed your words. You led him outside, the mumblings of your drunk sister reaching your ears. He was gentle as he placed her into the passenger seat, and you frowned at her as she laid her head on the dashboard.

“Really, thank you,” you said, looking to him as soon as he shut the door.

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against your car as he gazed at you with a look you couldn’t place. He did that a lot.

“I can’t keep letting her off the hook forever, you know,” he told you, making your heart drop.

You knew that. You had known it for a while, probably since the second time. You didn’t know why Officer Barnes, and the station by extension, always let your sister off easy every time she was found drunk somewhere, but you were grateful nonetheless. You couldn’t keep taking advantage of his generosity though.

“How is Officer Wilson?” you asked, changing the subject.

The blue-eyed man smirked at the mention of his roommate and colleague.

“Still as much of a pain in my ass as ever,” he answered, making you chuckle.

“You know, as much as you insult him, I think you’d really miss him if something ever happened to him,” you said with a grin.

Officer Barnes joined you, eventually nodding with a smile of his own.

“You’re probably right. He’s still a pain though,” he agreed, walking with you to your side of the car.

You paused when you placed your hand on the door, swallowing with your eyes to the ground before looking to him again. You really couldn’t appreciate him enough, but like he said, you knew he couldn’t continue to let your sister off of the hook.

“I really hope this will be the last time,” you whispered.

Officer Barnes frowned, dark brows lowering as he heaved a sigh, sounding as tired as you felt.

“Did you ever think…”

He paused, shifting on his feet before continuing.

“Maybe a few days in jail will do her some good. I mean, what kind of lesson can she learn if you keep bailing her out?”

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t considered it, but you sadly shook your head.

“I can’t do that to her. She’s family,” you quietly replied.

He studied you for a bit before nodding, running his eyes over you with a soft hum.

“No, of course not. You’re too sweet for that,” he said.

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that, so you simply thanked him again and said your goodbyes. He didn’t move as you got in and drove off, his stare piercing your rearview mirror until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.

When you finally arrived home, your sister was barely able to stand at all. You got her as far as the living room before your arms gave out, depositing her onto the couch. After placing a small trash can beside her, you went into the kitchen to make some coffee and put together a little hangover concoction that you’d been using for years.

As she slept off the alcohol, you couldn’t help but to think about Officer Barnes’ words. Not just him admitting that this couldn’t go on forever, something you already knew, but his proposal to let your sister spend a few nights in jail. You had thought about it. That wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t think it’d do any good. It wasn’t that simple. Your sister needed professional help.

You wondered if you could get Officer Barnes or even Officer Wilson to help you out with that. You didn’t think that your sister would react too kindly to an intervention. You suddenly shook your head, telling yourself that you needed to stop relying on them so much. Especially Officer Barnes.

You’d known them both for years, ever since they moved to the city during your 3rd year of college. They’d been mere officers in training then. You remembered even having a slight crush on Officer Wilson, but that had died the minute they found your sister the first time, wandering around the city drunk and belligerent. You had been so embarrassed, telling yourself that no one in their right mind would get mixed up with a family like yours, no matter how small it was.

Officer Barnes was always the one to find her. He never judged her nor did he ever hint that he was even thinking any kind of negative thoughts. He’d always been much nicer than either of you deserved, and you mentally reminded yourself to bake him some cookies. You suspected that his love for your food was the main reason he let your sister off the hook time and time again.

It was hours later, when you were taking the fresh cookies out of the oven, when you heard your sister stir. You turned just as she stumbled into the kitchen, struggling to open her eyes. You grabbed her a cup.

“I made coffee. It’s not as fresh as I would like it to be but…”

You trailed off, handing it to her. Her eyes were wide open now, and she gratefully took it, gulping it down.

“Thank you,” she breathed as soon as she was done.

The silence was awkward, and the smell of fresh cookies wafted through the air. It was an odd picture.

“So,” you started, playing with your fingers. “What was it this time?”

Your sister heaved a sigh, setting her mug down as she leaned against the counter.

“I got fired today.”

Your face fell, shoulders dropping as sympathy tore through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, meaning it.

“Don’t be. It beats sleeping with my decrepit former boss,” she scoffed.

Your eyes widened as you registered the implication behind her words, and your heart clenched. You stepped towards her, reaching out.

“Are you serious? T, we should tell someone. File a lawsuit or something-.”

Her laugh cut you off, and you frowned at her.

“Have you met the guy? He has more money than either of us could ever dream of. It’d be a waste of time,” she sneered.

You shook your head.

“You don’t know that. You’re probably not the only woman he’s done this to. I’m sure with the right lawyer-.”

“This is the real world, Y/N? Where those in power take advantage of the rest of us as they see fit,” she told you, making your frown deepen.

Your bit your lip, not exactly agreeing with her but opting to swallow your words. You watched as she neared the pan of cooling cookies and ran her eyes over them with a light scoff.

“Who is this for? Officer Barnes?” she mockingly wondered, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, actually,” you said, ignoring her tone and reaching to get a plate. “Do you want one?”

“You should really stay away from him, you know.”

“Well, that’s kind of hard to do when you keep getting arrested for public intoxication,” you threw back.

You immediately cringed, turning to face her, surprised to find not an offended look on her face, but merely a shocked one. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head at you.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… He’s a nice man, T. A good man. Much more than we deserve. Anyone else would have put you before a judge a long time ago.”

She chuckled, reaching past you to grab a cookie.

“Gee, I wonder why that is.”

Her tone confused you, and she shook her head at you.

“The guy’s a creep. No amount of friendly smiles can hide that,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

You frowned at her words before shaking your head and sliding the cookies onto a plate.

A week later, you were thankful that your sister seemed to be doing better. Normally she needed a month to really get herself together to at least try and get back on her feet again, but her uncharacteristic behavior both shocked you and made you proud. However, when your doorbell rang at almost 1 in the morning, you realized that you had spoken too soon.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

You had swung the door open and come face to face with none other than Officer Barnes and your sister, the latter almost keeled over. She would have been face first into the ground if it wasn’t for the man holding her up.

“Her room is this way,” you told him as soon as you let him in.

She mumbled a few times as he followed your lead, quieting altogether when he placed her on her bed. He made sure that she was on her side, and you heaved a tired sigh as he followed you down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-.”

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your shoulder and stopping you.

You turned to face him, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, much quieter this time.

Officer Barnes just stared at you, brows drawn together as he rubbed your shoulder, attempting to calm you down.

“It’s okay-.”

“No, it’s not. I really...I really thought this time would be different. I did.”

“I know you did-.”

“...and there are actual criminals out there who need to be dealt with but instead you’re here dealing with me and my sister again.”

You placed your hands over your face as your voice cracked, and your shoulders trembled as you held in all of the emotions threatening to spill.

“God, all of the cookies in the world can’t make up for what we put you through,” you sighed.

He pulled your hands away from your face, and you looked away from him.

“Hey…”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he let go of one of your hands to place it under your chin. He made you look at him, and his blue eyes searched your face as he smiled at you.

“This is my job. I’m not going out of my way to do anything here, okay? It’s okay.”

You reluctantly nodded before your eyes found the floor again.

“She needs help,” you said, finally admitting it outloud. “Professional help. The 12 steps kind.”

There was a brief silence before the dark-haired man spoke.

“I can help with that, get her into some meetings,” he offered.

“Would you? I...I didn’t want to ask because you do so much for us already, but…”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him. He rested his hands on his hips, tilting his head at you with a slight frown.

“Now, Y/N… How long have I known you and your sister? I’m always happy to help you two out in any way I can. You know that,” he told you, lips quirking up just a tad.

“More than we deserve,” you murmured

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but you continued before he could.

“Do you want something to drink before you go? I usually make her some coffee,” you offered.

His smile widened as he looked at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t name.

“I’d love to.”

His steps were light as he followed you into the kitchen, and you wondered if his stealth was just part of the job or if he was always that way. He didn’t say much as you moved throughout the kitchen, opting instead to watch you as you turned on the coffee pot.

“I think I have some leftovers from last night,” you told him.

“I’d love some.”

As you made to fix him some food to take with him, you found yourself humming a bit, a habit. So immersed in your tasks, you’d almost forgotten that he was there until he spoke again.

“You’re going to make some man a very happy husband one day.”

You threw him a smile over your shoulder.

“You sound like my dad,” you complained, thinking of the man who you hadn’t seen in years.

“A harmless compliment, I promise. You’re just so sweet...and you can cook better than any chef in the city,” he elaborated.

“Well, we’ll see what the future holds,” was all you said as you handed him a container of food.

You moved to get his coffee for him when he spoke again.

“Any man would be crazy not to snatch you up and beg you to have his children,” he said with a chuckle.

You joined him, shrugging as you handed him a to-go cup full of steaming coffee.

“That would be nice, but I can’t have kids,” you said.

Officer Barnes’ smile fell, eyes widening just a bit as he blinked. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve dropped his coffee.

“What?” he murmured.

You shrugged again, throwing him a small smile.

“I can’t have kids.”

He looked like he didn’t know what to say, and he frowned, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you told him, placing your hand on his arm. “I’m not bothered by it anymore. I used to be, but… I figured that some people just aren’t meant to have children, and that’s ok.”

You turned away from him, moving to clean up your mess. You could still feel his eyes on you.

“It’s why I work at a nursery. I love it, and sometimes I think to myself that if I had children of my own, I wouldn’t have time for the dozens I see every day.”

You leaned your back against the counter, facing him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I like to believe that everything happens for a reason.”

Officer Barnes smirked at you, a light chuckle escaping him, face pinched as if he was thinking hard about what you said, dark hair curling around his ear.

“That’s a nice way of looking at things.”

You shrugged, leading him to the door.

“My sister doesn’t exactly share my sentiments, so it’s nice to hear that you do,” you confessed, opening the door for him. “Thank you again, Officer Barnes.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you.

“How many times must I tell you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you said with a groan. “Bucky. It’s a force of habit.”

“Well, I’m kindly asking you to kick it,” he lightly replied as he stepped outside.

“Drive safe.”

He paused, blinking at you before nodding.

“I will, and I’ll talk to someone about getting your sister into some meetings.”

You waved him off, a slight frown overtaking as you heard your sister retching from down the hall. With a sigh, you closed the door and turned to go tend to her like you always did.

The weeks that followed were better, the best you’d had in a long time. True to his word, Bucky got information on some meetings, and surprisingly, your sister agreed that she needed more help than you alone could provide. You drove her to, and picked her up, from every one. You’d always felt like the older sister despite the opposite being true, but it was glaring now more than ever.

Her behavior was improving, and you constantly prayed that it would last. You knew that recovery wasn’t always a smooth journey, plenty of people relapsing, but that didn’t seem to be the case for your sister. She had gotten another job, was keeping up with her meetings, and hadn’t even looked at a bottle of alcohol in weeks. She was just her normal cynical self...until she wasn’t.

You tapped your finger on the steering wheel, watching as the last person left the building. You waited a few moments, hoping that she would be the last person, but she never came out. Hurriedly stepping out of your car, you made your way to someone who hadn’t driven off yet. You could tell that you had startled them by knocking on their window, and you apologized the minute they cracked it. You asked them if your sister was still inside, and your heart sank at their answer.

“She never showed up.”

Your lips parted, brows furrowing as you registered their words. Unsure of how to respond, you simply took a step back, allowing them to drive off. It was late in the evening, and the parking lot was now empty, and you felt helpless as you looked around, as if waiting for your sister to appear.

She had never showed up?

You had dropped her off yourself. You had seen her walk into the building with your own eyes. You wondered if something had happened, something to send her over the edge again, and with a heavy heart, you got back into your car and headed home. You waited up most of the night, expecting a call from the police station or even a knock on your door, but your phone never rang and your door was undisturbed. You hadn’t meant to, but before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Your notifications were just as empty when you woke up the next morning, and your stomach churned as you sat there alone. You had the most awful feeling in your gut, and despite the fact that this should seem like a normal act for your sister, you couldn’t help but feeling like it wasn’t.

Later that day, you drove to the police station. For someone who swore not to rely on Bucky as much anymore, you were doing a poor job of it. He was happy to see you, and that made you feel even worse. Bucky was always happy to help you, and you constantly felt like you were taking advantage of it.

Your worry must have been written on your face though because his smile soon fell. He walked you outside of the station, and you quietly followed.

“It’s my sister,” you immediately said. “She’s missing.”

He eyed you for a bit, eyes narrowing just a tad as he thought. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Are you sure?”

You knew what he wasn’t saying. Your sister wasn’t exactly the most reliable, and absences weren’t unusual for her. He was right to be skeptical.

“They said she never showed up at her meeting. I dropped her off myself, and even if she wasn’t really going, she’d at least pretend like she was. She wouldn’t want me to worry and...and that’s all I seem to be doing,” you murmured.

Bucky placed his hands on your shoulders, massaging them as he attempted to console you.

“Alright. Have you called her?”

“She doesn’t have a cell phone,” you told him. “She can never keep a job long enough to.”

He nodded at that.

“I know that for adults, they need to be missing for at least 48 hours to be treated as a missing persons case. I know that, but…”

You trailed off, and Bucky understood, nodding.

“Hey?”

Your eyes met his, and he sent you a small smile.

“I’ll do what I can. I’m going to find her, alright?”

You gave a shaky nod. He told you to go home and let him handle everything. And thats what you did. The house felt too quiet, and uncomfortable, you started cleaning and cooking. In the midst of all of that, you called your father to tell him what was going on, but it was in vain. As usual, he didn’t answer his phone, and you found yourself wondering if your family was cursed. Your father was too indifferent, your sister too cynical, and you were too nice.

Despite the fact that you felt like you shouldn’t, you went to work. Was it to distract yourself? Oh definitely, but what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t worry until the 4th day had passed and you’d heard nothing from Bucky. He said that he would handle everything, and you trusted him, but you were tempted to go back to the station. However, a knock came on your door one night before you could.

You knew it was him, and you didn’t hesitate to open the door.

“Well?” you anxiously asked, letting him inside.

Bucky’s face was solemn, and you feared the worst, but he simply shook his head.

“Nothing,” he sadly told you.

Your frown deepened, and you frantically blinked away tears.

“Hey,” he quietly said. ‘Hey, none of that, doll.”

You shook your head, stepping back.

“I just feel like this is my fault. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe I pushed her too soon. Maybe-.”

“...and maybe it was all her and had nothing to do with you,” he said, lips pressed together as he looked at you.

You slowly nodded at what he said, not quite believing it.

“Maybe,” you murmured, turning away. “I feel like I should be out there, doing something.”

You heard Bucky approach you, and he tsk’d.

“No, absolutely not. This city is dangerous, and I can’t look for her properly if I’m worrying about you, now can I?” he said, hands resting on your shoulders.

You turned your head to look at him, taking in his soft expression, his baby blues resting on you. You reluctantly shook your head.

“No, I can’t. So the best thing for you to do is sit tight while I try to find your sister.”

“It’s hard. The house...it’s so quiet now. It’s so obvious that she isn’t here, and I hate it,” you whispered. “I’ve never lived alone.”

He hummed, glancing around.

“I don’t have to leave right away. My shift is over, and I could stick around for as long as you want,” he offered, making your heart soar.

“You would do that? I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep me company.”

He grinned at you.

“Never. You just kick me out whenever you get tired of me,” he told you.

You didn’t kick him out. Bucky slept on your couch that night and the night after that and the night after that. His presence was welcoming, comforting, and you found yourself growing used to it. Having known Bucky for years, it was easy to get into a familiar groove with him. He started occupying your couch more and more, and feeling so bad about inconveniencing him all because you couldn’t handle being alone, you usually cooked him breakfast before he had to go to work.

When he wasn’t at work looking for your sister, he was at home with you. Sometimes he cooked with you, or sometimes he fixed something that had been broken for months. He made missing your sister a little easier. You had faith that he would find her, that he’d bring her through that door, drunk and on the verge of sleep like before.

Still, sometimes, you couldn’t help the dark thoughts that assaulted your mind. What if she never came through that door? What if he never found her? Or worse… What if he did? What if he found her in a ditch somewhere, body maimed and ruined from being dead for so long? Despite how much you tried to remain positive, despite how much you wanted to believe otherwise, what if she was gone?

This was what woke you up out of your sleep one night, on the verge of a panic attack. Your breathing was shallow, eyes unfocused as you fought to calm yourself. You were startled, a shriek leaving you as you felt something brush your arm. Light flooded your room, and your eyes immediately met Bucky’s as he stood beside your bed.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, doll,” he whispered, kneeling beside you. “ I could hear you all the way in the living room.”

“Sorry,” you weakly said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting beside you, facing you as he pulled you into his arms.

You hadn’t realized that you were shaking, and Bucky tightened his arms around you.

“What if she’s never coming back? What if she’s dead?” you cried.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, rocking you. “Don’t think the worst.”

“But-.”

He shushed you, cutting you off, and you couldn’t fight the tears as they spilled over. His hand brushed over your back, and you closed your eyes as he held you, not taking note of what was happening until his lips met yours. Your eyes flew open as confusion filled you.

You struggled to pull away, but Bucky’s hold was firm. His mouth moved over yours, and your eyes were wide as he kissed you. He only pulled away when you struggled to breathe, and you pressed your hands to his chest immediately.

“Bucky what-?”

“It’s alright. Let me make you feel better. Help you forget,” he murmured, leaning in again, but you turned away.

“No!”

You got out of his grip, scooting back against the headboard, looking at him as if he was a stranger. Bucky was frowning at you like you were in the wrong, and your mind was muddled with so many conflicting thoughts.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

He scoffed at you, narrowing his eyes at you like you had offended him.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You smile and bat those eyelashes at me-.”

“I-.”

“You invite me into your home. You allow me to stay for as long as I want. You cook me breakfast, hell, we cook together like an old married couple. Are you telling me you intended to just play house forever?”

You were floored, and you flinched as you remembered your sister’s constant words, telling you that you were too nice, too trusting. You stared at Bucky, and you felt like an idiot. More tears sprung forth, and you dug your nails into the palm of your hands.

“Bucky I…”

You looked down, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that...that there was more to this, but that was never my intention. I’m really sorry.”

You heard him heave a long sigh, shrinking in on yourself as he moved closer to you.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

You looked up at him, and he reached out to touch your chin. The blue of his eyes was a tad darker, colder than you’d ever seen them.

“I keep forgetting how sweet you are. Too sweet. It’s my fault really, but let me explain how things will work from now on, just so there’s no confusion…”

Your brows drew together, dread swirling in your chest.

“You treat me nice, you be as sweet to me as you always are, and I’ll do everything in my power to find your sister. You don’t...and it’s classified as a simple runaway case.”

You sharply inhaled, mouth dropping open as you registered his words.

“What-?”

“Is that understood?”

He didn’t give you time to respond, pressing his lips to yours again. Your mind was screaming at you to do something, to fight him, get out and go get help. But what if he was telling the truth? Would he really give up on finding your sister if you didn’t sleep with him? Besides, even if you could get away, who could you go to for help? The police was currently pushing you onto your back, lips tasting every inch of you.

Still, you couldn’t help but to fight against him, and Bucky huffed. He paid your trembling hands no mind as he pushed your t-shirt up, fingers trailing over your skin as he did so. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You almost felt like you were looking down on yourself as he undressed, and you barely fought him as he did the same to you. Your breathing was shallow, and you were certain that you were going to pass out.

“Bucky,” you breathed, pressing your hands against his shoulders.

He simply lowered himself, attaching his mouth to you, making you forget your train of thought for a second. He was like a man starved, tasting you until he was more than satisfied. You hadn’t had sex many times, the few times you did it was great, but this surpassed all of those times, something you never thought possible.

Your legs trembled around him, toes curling, and you reached down to press your hands against his head, trying and failing to push him away. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding them in place while he had his fill of you. Your chest arched upwards, and one of your hands pressed against the headboard, attempting to ground yourself, but Bucky seemed determined to make your head spin.

“Bucky, stop,” you begged, voice cracking. “Please…”

Your next words were lost, the only thing climbing out of your throat being a moan. You tried your best to swallow it down as you came, but Bucky’s tongue and mouth didn’t rest, lapping up your juices as you clenched around the pink muscle. You were still coming down when he climbed over you, and you opened your mouth to stop him, beg him, but he pushed into you without warning.

A gasp escaped you, a groan of his own leaving Bucky as he immediately began to thrust into you. You placed your hands on his chest, lips trembling as he slid into you over and over again. He kissed you again, taking you by surprise, and you stared up at him in something akin to disbelief.

How did you get here? Bucky was your friend, and somehow, here he was on top of you, forcing pleasure onto you that you never asked for.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth.

“Bucky,” you quietly begged.

“I always knew you’d be sweet in bed, making the cutest little noises, all soft skin and soft smiles.”

His words confused you, and it occurred to you that this behavior did not come out of nowhere.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to take you in the back of my cruiser, right there in the station, but you deserved better. You deserved to be kissed like a princess in between your sheets-.”

“Stop,” you begged.

You wanted him to stop talking. You didn’t want to face how unbelievably stupid and trusting you had been. It hurt too much. He pressed his hips against yours again, his thick cock dragging along your slick walls.

“Your sister wasn’t good for you, doll.”

Your eyes widened as they met his, his brows furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat on his forehead as his hair hung over his face.

“She was nothing but trouble, always bringing nothing but her problems into your life. You were far too nice to do anything about it...so I did,” he told you, not a hint of humor in his blue eyes.

A horrified gasp escaped you, and you continued your struggle. You felt like you’d been punched in the chest, and your vision was completely blurry from your tears now. You were full on sobbing, but Bucky paid it no mind as he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down above your head. Every thrust was a brush against that little bundle of nerves, and you felt yourself clenching around him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he purred. “Come around my cock.”

“No, no, no,” you cried, bucking against him, but only making it worse for you.

Your second climax crashed over you like a wave, and like you were drowning, you struggled to breathe. Bucky’s lips felt like they were everywhere, and soon after, you felt him twitch inside of you, coating your walls as he came too. You couldn’t breathe, and you felt the walls of your room closing in.

“I’m the only one who knows where your sister is,” he murmured after catching his breath. “I’m the only one who knows if she’s even okay.”

Your chest was heaving, and you kept thinking to yourself that not enough air was getting in. Bucky wiped the sweat from your hairline, running his eyes over your spent frame as he caged you in even further.

“So if you want to see her again, you know what you need to do.”

The world finally caved in on you.

Even though you couldn’t have kids, it seemed like Bucky was determined to try. Or maybe he just couldn’t get enough of you. Despite the fact that he had a place of his own, he spent all of his free time at your house. His hands never strayed from you, and it seemed like he was kissing you any chance he got. At night, and sometimes in the morning, he enjoyed the feel of you wrapped around him, milking him as he groaned in your ear.

And what could you do but let him? Now knowing the truth, you wondered if you ever knew Bucky at all. How was it possible to hide one’s true self for years? Constantly? You remembered your sister’s last words about him, calling him a creep, and you wondered if he was that good or if you were simply that trusting?

He acted as if you were a normal couple. He cooked with you, ate with you, watched tv with you, and even bathed with you. Bucky brought you flowers and gifts and pretty dresses he thought you’d look good in. Every time, you thanked him with a smile and could do nothing but accept it as he undressed you. Every time you asked about your sister, every time you built up the courage to, he always dodged the question, and you wondered how long this would go on.

As it turns out, not long at all.

He came to the house one day, angry and frantic and his eyes were searching for you. The minute he spotted you, he pounced. He was rougher than he had ever been, pinning you to the wall as he thrust into you, hand fisting your hair while the other pressed his fingers into your thigh. You felt like he was going to break you, but Bucky paid no mind to your tears.

You had made your way to the floor when he finally came inside of you, sweaty and angry and gripping you like he’d lose you. You were trembling in his arms when he lifted his head, and you stared at him like he was going to hurt you some more. You watched as he swallowed, running his eyes over you as he reached up to brush his thumb along your lip.

“Sam and I gotta leave,” he breathed.

You blinked at him, frowning.

“It’s all so sudden, but they found some things, and we have to leave.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you stared at him in confusion.

“...but when it’s safe, I’m coming back for you,” he told you, making your heart sink.

“B-Bucky...my-.”

“You want to see her again, don’t you?”

You nodded, and he nodded with you.

“Okay. Then you’ll wait for me. You don’t tell anybody what you know, and you wait for me. Tell me.”

Scared to say anything else, and scared that you’d never see your sister again, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll wait for you,” you whispered through trembling lips..

He kissed you, and that was the last time he kissed you for a long time. You didn’t know how many years had passed. 4? 5? 6? You couldn’t keep track and they all blended together. With Bucky gone, you felt more alone than you ever had before. Had your body grown used to his? Grown to crave his even? The man was your rapist. Was that normal?

The house was too painful for you to remain in, so you moved a couple of blocks over. Every day that passed, you wondered how your sister was doing. You wondered where she was. Some days you missed her more than others, and some days you were angry. Why couldn’t she have told you outright what Bucky was like. Surely, she must have known, known better than you.

Some days you were angry at Bucky, and on more than one occasion, you had even been tempted to tell someone what you knew. You hated him for what he did to you, what he’d done to your sister, putting you both through torment. Most days though, you were just angry with yourself. You felt like you deserved some blame in all of this, for being so naive, so trusting, for having faith in everyone until they proved otherwise.

Work only distracted you for a short time, and the lonely nights came quicker than you liked. Provided that you were able to find sleep, it was normally after a crying fit. It all felt like a strange sort of limbo, and you wondered how long you were meant to endure it. You started to think that Bucky would never come back, you’d never see your sister again, and once again, you’d be an idiot for believing him. But what other choice did you have?

It was one early morning, the sun still yet to rise, when there was a knock on your door. You were riddled with sleep and practically stumbling to the door, but when you opened it, all of your fatigue was gone. Your wide eyes met familiar blue ones, and you felt like the air was sucked out of you.

His hair was shorter, but he otherwise looked the same. He was dressed darkly, as bulky as ever, and you took a step back when he took a step forward. An unfamiliar car was behind him, and you squinted, recognizing Officer Wilson in the passenger seat. Your eyes fell to Bucky again, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

“Hi, doll.”

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie @kellyn1604 @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway @mcudarklibrary @ksjksjkv

#bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #cop!bucky #dark fic #marvel fanfiction

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some Romano + Prussia x royal reader (separate) headcannons? I'm a sucker for a good forbidden romance and would be happy to see what you want to do with it. Thank you!

Yes, of course! Sorry for the kinda late response--I got carried away writing other things. What a coincidence that I've been doing a lot of exploring in fantasy! The reader is referred to as she/her.

Forbidden Romance Headcanons - Prussia and S. Italy

Prussia - The earnest pickpocket and sheltered princess

Unfortunately, Gilbert is on the wrong side of history. As an albino, he's been an outcast ever since he was born. In an age of superstition and class divide, his parents had no problem abandoning an extra mouth to feed. Especially when they were a demon with magical powers. Left to fend for himself as a baby, he only ever survived thanks to the generosity of an old neighbor. When they passed away due to old age, he had to get on by himself on the streets. Stealing, lying, whatever it takes to get some quick cash. And he's been doing it ever since he was five.

He loved fairytales ever since he was a kid. His guardian always told him these stories before bedtime, after all. They said it was good luck to give the princess a flower, and he remembered this a few years later during the royal parade in town. Pushing through the crowd of onlookers, he held out a small dandelion hoping you would take it. Before the guards could swat him away, you took the flower with a smile. All you remembered from that time was a small and dirty face gleaming up at you. And, of course, a pair of striking red eyes you would never forget.

In his adolescence, he became a thief with quick hands. It wasn't until he took on the most dangerous job of all did he make himself a public enemy. Stealing the royal family's jewels. And he would've gotten away with it if he wasn't forced to take a detour through the princess's bedroom. Unbeknownst to him, you were wide awake. Immediately, you recognized him as the little boy from that day. Without thinking, you hid him in your wardrobe until the guards left. That was the start of a strange friendship forged between two people from two worlds--a dirt-poor criminal and the well-loved princess of a thriving kingdom.

He visits you from time to time by climbing up the side of the castle. When he first did it, you practically throttled him by his collar, screaming, “Do you have a death wish? They'll throw you to the lions if you get caught!”. He simply responds with, “The awesome me never gets caught! That's why I'm here, ja?” Soon, this becomes routine until you learn to trust him.

Gilbert loves gloating about his adventures as a street rat, whether it's about singlehandedly beating up gangs of bullies or outrunning the palace guards. As a sheltered person of royalty, his stories reflect experiences alien to you. But it opens your eyes to things you've never seen, and it's very fascinating.

If he's not telling grossly exaggerated anecdotes of his greatness, he'll bring in board games and cards he “borrowed” from his friends. You've never played with them before as your parents deemed them unrefined. It fills him with pride to see you enjoying yourself so much, especially when he's teaching you how to play.

You don't go out very often, so he always brings back little trinkets and souvenirs. When you found out he stole them all, you would hit him on the head and tell him off. “Where did you get these from? Stealing and giving these to the princess--do you know how stupid that sounds?” Then, you would pinch his cheek until he tears up and admits his wrongs. “I-I thought you would like them, okay? I wanted to give them to you as a present...” The next day, you would accompany him to the shops he robbed and pay the owners back.

He gets upset and embarrassed when he realizes those gifts aren't gifts at all. Not when you paid for them yourself! One of the ways he shows affection is through giving gifts, but that unfortunately clashes with not having money. So he's eager to make something out of himself, even if he has to work as a bottom feeder and face unfair treatment for what he looks like. When you find out, his boss gets one hell of a time dealing with you. After that, he uses whatever small amount he earned to buy something for you.

As he grows out of his old habits, he becomes more honest. In fact, he's so determined to prove himself that he shows up one day with a homemade board game scribbled out on a spare piece of parchment. He's nervous and twiddling his fingers, and that's when you know you have to help him get back onto his feet. He's so touched by your kindness that he shows you a secret he's been hiding forever--he can do magic. It's one of his skills that let him become so good at stealing in the past.

After some practice to touch up his abilities, you try convincing your parents to let him work in the palace as an all-rounder. With the magic dancing in his fingertips, there's nothing he can't do. He has a green thumb, good reflexes, and the horses in the stables listen to him better than the caretaker! He can't forget that you encouraged him to let go of his doubts and previous identity as a petty thief. There's nobody in the world he looks up to more.

On the night of your eighteenth birthday, he's invited to a ball to celebrate. Once again, he finds himself anxious to see you in your dress, especially when he's quite glammed up himself with his suit and hair slicked back. While you teach him how to dance, he tells you he looks ridiculous. But you think otherwise and make it explicit. That's when Gilbert realizes he's completely smitten with you. He embarks on another journey to improve himself until he thinks he deserves you.

South Italy - The plebeian pâtissier and renegade royal

War has ravaged the kingdom and eaten into the state's reserves, leaving inflation rates at an all-time high. The suffering middle and working-class take it up to their rulers in a coup d'état, killing the king and queen. And now, they're searching for the princess amidst the chaos of an ungoverned dominion. Romano couldn't be more indifferent to such a cause, only ever caring about putting food on the table. He works day and night helping out his family's bakery, making what he can to get by. However, he's forced to take a side when he finds a girl on his doorstep on the verge of starvation.

Unable to turn away someone in need, he nurses you back to health. However, he does so with spite, wondering to himself why he has to give what little he has left to a princess. When you feel better after a few days, he's eager to send you off but changes his mind as you leave. Romano can't bear to let you face certain death, or worse, knowing how bitter the townspeople are about the unpopular war. So he welcomes you back with a sharp sigh with his head turned away. “Alright, alright, you can stay. Now stop making that pathetic face, you spoilt principessa--it's depressing.”

He relays a few house rules as conditions for keeping you around. You have to help him with chores. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, everything. Considering you always had someone doing those tasks for you, you're hopeless at it. He'll swat your hand and show you how to do things right with an annoyed scowl. “No, no, no, no, no! You're doing it all wrong. This is how you do it. What do they even teach you in that palace, huh? Books? Maths? Books about maths? Well, they won't keep you alive, you know!”

Because he's so observant and strict, he's a good teacher, and soon, you get the hang of everything. Before, he had to open his mouth to correct you every few seconds, but now, he can just watch you do his work with his arms crossed. It's a little demeaning to have someone watch your every move, but inside, he's relieved you're finally fitting in and not a complete waste of his time and resources. In reality, he never wanted to send you off and hoped he could just handle an extra mouth to feed. Not that he'll ever tell you.

When you're out and about, he makes you wear a cloak to hide your identity. When he's forced to interact with people, he'll hold you close and play everything off without arousing suspicion. Even if your hood falls off, he won't react--he's screaming inside in panic, but he's a great actor when he needs to be. You're totally not the princess, just a crazy similar doppelganger. The cloak is there so that people don't make a fuss. When they leave, he'll turn to you and scream how much of an idiot you are. But really, he was just worried to death--and you have a feeling he was. So you hug it out and leave him cussing with a red face.

As you two grow closer, his cousin Antonio notices how much he cares about you despite his efforts to hide it. It's a problem. He approaches him and warns that if people found out he was hiding the princess, he would get killed with her. Romano heats up and screams, telling him that he already knew what he got into the second he let you into his home. When he's asked why he's still keeping you around, he responds with, “It's not fair that her parents fucked up, and she has to face the consequences. Just like how I never wanted to run this stupid bakery--I wanted to be a painter, not burn my hands in the kitchen all day!”

Unbeknownst to him, you overhear the conversation. The next morning, he discovers that you're gone and loses his head. While he's screaming and crying, he's swarmed with the possibilities of what happened to you. He's a bit of an overthinker, but his paranoia is deserved--were you taken away in the middle of the night? Are you even still alive? He spirals down a path of self-loathing until he confronts how much he misses you, then his regret of never being frank with his feelings. Romano didn't understand what he had until he lost it. To say this was a wake-up call--to be more honest with himself--would be an understatement.

A week later, you return unscathed. Turns out, you left to stay with the owner of a paint shop owner your family always supported and bought from. You present him with a gift of some high-end oil paints, brushes, and canvases. When he sets them all down, he'll pull you into a tight hug, and once again, tell you how stupid you are. While he has you in his coils, you smile to yourself as you pat his hair, happy that you also got something in return. Some transparency. “I just thought I'd give you something... For all the trouble.” You'd say, and he'd shush you with a few hard kisses. “You were never a trouble. I wanted you to stay, so I'm more to blame than you.”

As the political situation of the country calms down, so do the anxieties of angry neighbors pounding on his door. You return to his home much to his content. Now that you're just as good as him at icing cakes, you spend more time running the bakery. This gives him some time to paint, and he can't be happier. Once you both get settled, he discovers another hobby on top of making art. Making coffee! The bakery evolves into a café lavishly decorated with his paintings, and it becomes the most popular establishment in town. You both realize how overrated it is to want to be anything more--you never bring up your title ever again.

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vampireoutofbusiness · 3 years

Text

If You're the Sun, I'm the Moon

NAVIGATION

Pairing: Peter x Avenger!reader

Warnings: Swearing, typos cuz it's 4 am

Request: Could you write about reader organizing a date and buying Peter flowers for a change, and he’s really stressed so it means a lot to him

Synopsis: You surprise Peter with a date night to give him a break and show him how much you appreciate him

a/n: soft peter has my heart, I want to hold and kiss him

Want to request something? Click Here

*Do not repost my work anywhere, reblogs are appreciated*

this picture of him is absolutely adorable i cant-

Recently, Peter had been working really hard in school and as Spider-man. He spent all of his free time - when he wasn’t fighting crime -studying for finals. If it was up to him he wouldn’t do any school work and would spend all of his time with you.

You, on the other hand, had a lot of free time when you weren’t doing something that was part of being an Avenger. You decided to surprise your boyfriend with a date. The whole thing was planned out for the two of you to go to dinner which you made a reservation for at a nice Italian place.

Then, you’d take him to the roof of the compound where you’d play music and maybe slow dance. And you had blankets to lay on and watch the stars. The whole thing was kind of cliché but your boy deserved it.

He spent so much time worrying about everyone else, especially you. People tried taking advantage of his generosity sometimes which didn’t get far, thanks to you.

He took every chance he got to tell you he loved you or that you looked beautiful. You definitely returned the favor but you wanted to do something big to show how much you appreciated him and all that he did.

You picked up your phone and called your boyfriend since he just got out of school.

“Hey,” he answered, his tone telling you how happy he was that you called.

“Hey, so I’m gonna need you to skip patrol tonight,”

“Why is that?”

“We’re doing something, and you have no way out,” you sighed, a tease in your tone.

“Then I guess I’m not patrolling tonight- what are we doing instead?” He asked, curiosity in his voice.

“That is for me to know and for you to find out, just dress nice and I’ll pick you up at seven,”

“Okay, now I really want to know,”

“Nope, see you tonight, I love you,”

“Fine…I love you too,”

Now, you needed to get the roof ready for that romantic stargazing and get yourself ready. You also needed to pick up flowers on your way to Peter’s apartment.

You settled for a bouquet of sunflowers from a flower stand you drove by. They were perfect because it wasn’t that he was like the flowers, he was the sun. You felt drawn to him, he made you feel alive, now isn’t that something?

He’s bright and beautiful, all he had to do was smile and he made you happy. And you knew he wasn’t really happy like that all of the time. But, you made sure he was loved and taken care of when he wasn’t shining, although you really did that all of the time. Hence, this date night.

You also looked fucking amazing because you didn’t know when the next time was that you’d be able to do this with Peter. Granted, he thinks you look good in a random pair of pajama pants with a t-shirt from an obscure store that doesn’t match at all.

He was checking himself in the mirror when he heard you knock on the front door. He hoped he looked as good as he knew you did.

His breath hitched when he opened the door and he saw you and the flowers in your hands.

“You look so pretty,” he gave you a timid smile.

“As do you,” you handed him the flowers and slid your hands down the front of his suit jacket, admiring him. He. Is. Fucking. Adorable.

“Wait- you- these are for me?” His was voice soft and he pointed to himself.

“Yes, my sunshine, they are,”

He grew the proudest smile on his face and examined them, taking small glances at you because HOLY SHIT you got flowers for him and he’s never gotten flowers from someone.

“Thank you,” he pulled you into a hug, his free hand squeezing your waist.

“Of course,” you pulled your head back and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” He asked as you fixed his tie for him because he’s never gotten the hang of it.

“It’s a surprise, now do you have a vase for-,"

“I want to hold them,” he wrapped his arms around the flowers as if he was hugging them.

“You’re taking them on the date?” You raised your eyes brows and chuckled when he nodded, a small pout on his face, “okay, whatever you want,”

When your car made it to the restaurant, Peter looked at you with amazement.

“We’re eating here?”

“Yep,” you rubbed your thumb on his thigh where your hand was resting for the entirety of the ride.

He loved when you did that, his stomach was doing flips even if he was used to it.

When you got seated (including Peter’s flowers), Peter looked at the menu and you could tell what he was going to ask.

“Yes, it’s spendy. No, you will not be paying a pretty penny,” you told him, not looking up from your own menu.

He sighed at your stubbornness but continued looking for what he wanted.

“Spaghetti, please, and can you ask them to cut it?” He asked, his voice quiet out of embarrassment that he was too anxious to order for himself.

“Yep,” you smiled and reached for his hand across the table.

You really didn’t mind handling most of the talking when you were together, you knew he got nervous and if you could relieve his stress, then you were happy to order for him.

You spent most of the dinner laughing and getting weird looks from people because you and Peter might have dressed the part, but this place was way too posh. Still, having time with him all to yourself was everything you wanted.

After you finished and paid, he thanked you so much to the point that you glared when he wouldn’t stop. You loved treating him because he deserved the world.

“Why are we going to the compound?” He asked when it clicked in his mind you were en route to there.

“Patience,” you winked and he sighed, his curiosity boiling inside of him.

The both of you heard faint music playing as you went up the stairs to the roof and you opened the door for him when you got to the top. He looked around at what you had set up, the sunflowers still in his hands.

A speaker, held by Pietro, was playing Talking to the Moon and several blankets and pillows were laid out for the two of you.

“Thanks,” you told Pietro and you took the speaker from him.

“I get my fiver later, right?” He asked as he made his way to the door for the stairwell.

“Right,” you assured him before grabbing Peter’s hand, guiding him over to the “bed” you made, and laying down, "come here,”

You opened your arms and he immediately fell into them, his head resting on your chest. He snaked his arms around your waist and you pulled a blanket over the two of you.

“The view of the night sky is so much better out here than in the polluted city,” he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Pretty, right?” You kept your eyes on the stars twinkling above you.

“Yes, you are,” he rested his chin on your chest, his eyes appreciating the moonlight beaming down on you.

Speaking of beaming, Peter was insanely happy right now. The amount of work you put in for him to have a nice night made his heart beat faster each time he thought about you. He felt so lucky.

“Why thank you, but don’t you want to stargaze, not me-gaze?” You chuckled and cupped his cheeks.

“If I’m sunshine then y- you’re moonlight,” he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“If you’re the sun, I’m the moon,” you looked up at the full moon, illuminating the rooftop, “how poetic,”

“Thank you so much,”

“It’s no problem, I’m very lyrical,” your voice was bleeding with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes.

“I mean for tonight, I really needed it,” his eyes were soft and he placed a kiss on your cheeks.

“Anything for the light of my life,” you shrugged as if it was nothing before pulling him down to your lips again.

The kiss was slow and full of so much love. You could stay here, in this moment forever, if it meant you could keep everything bad away from this boy. In reality, you couldn’t. But, you could do everything in your power to be his safe place and show him how much you loved him.

“Can I do anything else to relieve your stress?” You asked, a small smirk on your face as you brought a leg around his waist and swiftly flipped the two of you over.

He looked up at you hovering over him, a light blush across his cheeks.

“What did you have in mind?”

=======

Taglist:

@avengersbitch @criminalyetminimal @Simp4ronaldw @quaksonhehe @marthakookie @annajschuler3000 @t-bag2

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #mcu #spiderman #peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker scenerios #imagine #peter parker imagine #avenger!reader #fluff

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Courting Jareth

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Apologies for the long meeting, I just love him and the story of Labyrinth with all my heart)

- The thing about Jareth is that he becomes what you wish for him to be. If you want an adventure then he’ll give you one. Want romance? You’ll get it. Want an escape? He’ll whisk you away in an instant. Everything that you encounter is there because of you.

- But perhaps we’re getting ahead of ourselves. You and Jareth meet after you encounter the story of the Labyrinth at an old bookshop.

- You couldn’t quite explain why you’d entered the shop. Curiosity perhaps, you’d never been inside, in fact, you hadn’t even known it existed. But a part of you knew that it was more than that; you felt a pull towards it. It was as though something beyond your understanding had wanted you to go inside. And so you did.

- Wandering between the dusty, wooden shelves filled with old, fading books, you jumpd as an abrupt dull thud came from behind you. Once you’d turned, you found that a book had fallen off the shelves. ‘The Labyrinth’ the cover read and upon opening it, you saw the portrait of an unsightly yet endearing goblin printed on the opening page.

- You went to put it back on the shelf before an odd gnawing feeling filled you, as though you were missing out on something if you returned it to its; what you thought was it’s, rightful place. You turned the book around and gazed at the cover for another moment before deciding that you’d purchase it.

“Oh that one? That one you can have for free. See how old it is? Free, free, free. No ones bought it for many years, you’re doing me a favor by taking it.” The withered shop keeper had said as you went to hand them the book.

- Odd. You thought since nearly all of the books in the shop were just as old if not older. But who were you to turn down a persons generosity? Thanking the shop keeper, you left the store, clutching your newly owned book in your hand as you made your way home.

- Once you arrived home, you set the book down and went about the rest of your routine. It wasn’t until later that night that you actually cracked the book open, completely unaware of how invested you would become in the story.

- You spent hours devouring the pages, seldom stopping for anything and oblivious to the starry eyes which watched you from the dark of the night outside your window.

- It was a few days later that you would first encounter the goblin king in person. You’d had a bad day and felt as though you’d rather disappear forever than be a functional human being for another day. It was then that you remembered a specific quote from the story you’d read mere days before. With a solemn chuckle, you sank to the floor, closing your eyes and saying the words.

“I wish the goblins would come and take me away right now.”

- You sat silent for a long moment, taking a few deep breaths and trying to forget about the day you had. Creak! Your eyes snapped open and your head whipped to the side before you began to laugh nervously, there was nothing there.

- But in an instant, it felt as though the entire room was alive and that; even though you were completely alone, there was someone or something there with you. The distinct feeling of being watched filled you and you felt a twinge of panic invade your senses. You quickly made your way towards your back door and stepped outside …only to find that you weren’t in your backyard.

- Before you was the beautiful view of a, well, a labyrinth. It was just like the one in the book. Were you dreaming? You must have been, how else would you be …here.

- You began to walk towards the labyrinth, soon encountering the fairies, Hoggle, the worm. You marveled at the place around you and yet, you were worried. How would you get home?

- The answer wasn’t going to be anywhere outside of the labyrinth, and so you kept on going. Maneuvering your way through obstacle after obstacle, joining up with Hoggle once more who agreed to show you the way out after some bribery and blackmail. It was with Hoggle that you saw him for the first time.

- Well, it wasn’t really him at first, he was sitting on the ground in the shape of a creature-esque beggar. Even if it was him, you wouldn’t have recognized him. You moved closer to Hoggle as the two of you went to pass the blind beggar, creeping past before the creature spoke.

“Your majesty.” Hoggle said and your eyes widened. Stooping slightly, you bowed your head in a show of respect, up until the king made Hoggle confess his “true intentions behind helping you”.

- Unbeknownst to you, the goblin king was jealous of your newfound friendship with the ghastly little man and sought to squash it. Playing the role of kind king, he watched your reaction to the news, hiding his glee and making a face of teasing disappointment at the Hoggle.

“And you Y/n,” he turned his attention towards you, a smirk settling on his face as he leaned against the wall in front of you. “How are you enjoying my labyrinth?”

“Well, it’s very beautiful,” you fumbled for the right words to say, your throat dry and your stomach filled with butterflies. “I’ve enjoyed my time here, the good and the bad. But …I would like to know the way home....”

- He tsked at you before offering you a deal. If you managed to arrive at his castle in the next thirteen hours, then you could leave. But if you couldn’t, you would have to stay with him forever. With no other option, you accepted the challenge.

- Of course, he tries to foil all of your plans and attempts. Every now and again, he’ll drop in and make your mission harder. He’s always very smug whenever he messes you up and makes you take a longer route, though; at the same time, he wants you to arrive at his castle as soon as possible.

- Throughout his visits, he’ll try and win you over. Trying to impress you with his powers and woo you with his charms.

- Not many people have gotten as far as you have so believe me; he’s impressed. Though he also feels jealous as he watches you express any affection to the creatures of the labyrinth and your new friends. He threatens them every time they leave your sight.

- Regardless of his attempts to throw you off track, you do in fact make it to the castle in time. Thoroughly distraught, he offers you a final desperate deal though it sounds more like a plea. Let him rule you. Stay with him, fear him, love him. Do as he says, and he will be your slave.

- The offer makes you freeze, your heart and mind racing. For a long moment, you remain silent before you slowly open your mouth and give him your answer. Yes, you’ll stay.

- The smile he gives you is genuine and the world around you begins to put itself back together. Soon enough, you’re standing in the room full of staircases, a hopeful feeling rising within you.

“Come, let us pick your new room.” He offers you his hand and you take it, allowing him to lead you into the corridor of the castle.

- The two of you have dinner that night and both of you would consider it to be your first date. Candle light, flowers, the occasional rambunctious goblin; it was beautifully strange and you wouldn’t have changed a thing.

- The two of you share your first kiss in one of the many gardens of the Labyrinth. You were admiring the flowers and he was standing beneath a shady tree, admiring you; something he does very often.

- Out of nowhere, he stalked out from his shaded corner, hands behind his back as he leans down and kisses you. No words spoken, no questions asked and certainly no complaints made. He pulled away and you smiled up at him, though he was looking at the flowers in front of you. He only returned your smile as you turned back to the flowers happily, his heart full of adoration and gratitude.

- The two of you would only remain together forever ...not long at all.

- You’re only ever in the company of goblins and/or other creatures; and he couldn’t care less about their comfort or opinions, so pda isn’t really a problem for him. The only problem with Pda is the fact that he doesn’t want to appear too soft in front of his subjects.

- Passionate, breathtaking kisses that make you weak in the knees and send a wave of heat coursing through you.

- He loves when you come to spend time with him; or just to see him, on your own accord, even if you’re technically disrupting something. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He’ll say, his face brightening as you come into view or the instant he hears your voice.

- He craves your affection and attention, even though he’s good at hiding it. He knows that he’s been “alone” for a very long time but it still genuinely surprises him when he’s reminded as to how much he’s actually missed having a companion.

- He always gives you a closed lip smile whenever you kiss him on the cheek. How big it is depends on the situation.

- He loves when you play with his hair, he’ll lay between your legs and toy with his crystals while you braid or twirl his teased locks.

- Getting to hear him sing. He usually pulls you into a dance while he does so.

- He’s quite fond of terms of endearment, he likes that only he is truly allowed to call you them and you him. Usually, he’ll call you love, darling, pet, and my queen.

- He’s a cuddler but you aren’t allowed to let anyone know that. Most of the time, the two of you will sleep with your head on his chest, one of your hands in his and his other arm wrapped around you, keeping you close.

- He likes tracing his fingers across your skin, usually your bare back while you’re laying on your stomach next to him in bed.

- Hand kisses.

- Constant compliments and praise.

“Well don’t you look ravishing~”

- He plays little tricks on you from time to time. I’m fairly certain that he’s; at least, part fae and we all know that they’re mischievous little bastards.

- Occasionally getting spooked by him because he’ll just appear somewhere close to you out of nowhere, usually with an expression that tells you that he knew exactly what he was doing.

- He enjoys the banter that the two of you get into. He likes the little smiles he can force you into making with his teasing comments.

- Sometimes, he’ll just drape himself across you; or lay his head on some part of you, and start a conversation as though nothing is out of the ordinary; which is true because he does it enough that you’ve gotten used to it.

“Do you think it’s too much?”

- Telling him about your dreams and the little odd things that happen to you throughout the day, even though he most likely already knows about them. He finds it amusing to listen to you describe them either way.

- He likes having your full attention. He likes the feeling of being yearned for and adored, though he adores you the same amount if not more.

- He’s sorta clingy though he tries his best to hide just how clingy he is. You get little glimpses of it every now and again, like him dropping in to see what you’re doing throughout the day or having you stay close to his side whenever you can.

- He’s a; for the most part, chivalrous gentleman, even when you’re testing his patience. It doesn’t matter if you’ve just had an argument, he’s still offering you his hand to steady yourself with while climbing up the castle steps.

- Getting his capes draped over your shoulders.

- Getting to hear all of his stories about the land, the labyrinth, and all of the creatures that inhabit it.

- You definitely sit on his lap while he’s in his throne, having little conversations while the goblins jeer at each other and cause trouble around you.

- You try to get him to be nicer to the goblins and all the other creatures of the labyrinth but old habits die hard; especially since he sees them as below him. He tries though, mainly to please you.

- You’re somewhat feared by association; at least until they get to know you, which means everyone is pretty much always incredibly nice to you, even if they’re usually rude to people. After they do get to know you, then they just begin to genuinely like you enough to be kind to you.

- Although, they revert back to their; understandably, timid selves when Jareth shows up. You can; quite literally, tell when the king shows up because their smiles will drop and their eyes will widen, some cowering slightly as you glance behind your shoulder, finding the blonde watching you.

- Masquerade balls thrown in your honor.

- Strange but delicious meals.

- Nights spent in front of a fire, cuddled into his side and watching different places and dreams in his crystals.

- Watching the sun rise and set together.

- You get anything your heart desires, all you have to do is ask or mention something in passion. He’ll either leave it for you to find in your room or manifest it right then and there, raising an eyebrow at you and smirking, a sparkling little glint in his eyes.

- Magic tricks. He enjoys seeing the wonder and awe on your face.

- Hugs from behind.

- Catching him talking to the goblins about you. It’s always something that you can’t help but find cute.

- Getting dressed up in extravagant clothing. He enjoys seeing you in proper goblin ruler fashion.

- You assume your queenly duties and take it upon yourself to make the labyrinth a better place wherever you can. He doesn’t understand your need to be kind but he does find it quite adorable when you return home with dirtied clothing and mussed up hair; usually out of breath with a big smile on your face, having spent the day helping the citizens of the labyrinth.

“Well look at your dress. You’ve ruined it.” He’ll say, usually in such a fond teasing manner that you can’t help but let out a little laugh.

- All the goblins adore you, even if you don’t necessarily fit in with them and the king. They like your little quirks and contrasting personality traits as much as they like the ones that match theirs.

- Occasionally stepping in to stop him from making brash; and oftentimes cruel, decisions.

- He’s incredibly jealous. Anytime he sees someone talking to you in a relatively “too friendly” way, he’ll threaten them with the bog of eternal stench or some other horrible part of his land.

- He’s very protective of you, the labyrinth can be a very dangerous place for someone who doesn’t truly know where they’re going. He always insists that you have someone accompany you; which you usually have no problem with. He also watches you from his crystals whenever he feels that something is wrong.

- You cant be sure but you guess that Jareth has something to do with the barn owl that follows you on your little journeys through the land.

- Arguments here and there. He usually ends up either shutting you down or snapping at you, though he doesn’t ever yell. Just to be petty, you’ll ignore him and occasionally go to stay somewhere else, usually being wholeheartedly yet wearily accepted into the home of one of your strange friends.

- He’s extremely irritable during these cold shoulder sessions, snapping at the goblins more than usual and ranting to them about how you “could dare just walk out on” him. He usually makes the creatures/goblins try to convince you to talk to him. Eventually, he’ll visit, telling you that you’re acting childish before breaking; as you refuse to say a word to him, and desperately trying to get you to forgive him.

- He doesn’t say “I love you” constantly but he does say it very often. Even so, it doesn't change how special it feels every time he says it.

- He wants to marry you as soon as he can but he thinks he’ll wait for children for a little while, wanting to savor your lives together before making a new one. As surprising as it may be, he genuinely does like children and is eager to have his own, especially with you.

#80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #labyrinth imagine #labyrinth headcanons #labyrinth headcanon #labyrinth imagines #jareth imagine #jareth headcanons #jareth headcanon #jareth imagines #jareth x reader

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scooby-cas · 2 years

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Hi everyone! Marcela here. This post is just to update you on my life a bit. Mostly aimed at everyone who reblogged/donated to my fundraiser a couple of months ago.

Not gonna lie things were pretty horrible for a while before they got better, but basically: all your donations, reblogs, thoughts, and prayers were invaluable to my family. I literally don't know how we would've made it without them.

THANK YOU! ✨ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Things are starting to stabilize for us. My dad's eye is healing as it should again, (he has another minor procedure scheduled for later in the month -thankfully free of charge.) My sister has found a stable job she likes! 🙏🏻 ✨. I am starting a new, slightly higher-pay and all-around better job next week 😭💕. My mom started a small baking business that helped us stay afloat these past months. My dad also has a couple of small freelance gigs, which have helped him feel a little bit more like his old self, thank God.

All in all, 2021 ended on a much much much better note than any of us could've anticipated and that is in no small part thanks to you, your kindness, solidarity and generosity.

Thanks to your donations I was able to:

Pay for my dad's surgery, post-op care and meds.

Buy groceries, and pay our gas, water, and energy bill.

Pay rent!! Keep our home!!

Ultimately, keep us afloat at a time when we had no one else to turn to. 🙏🏻

I am SO grateful for each and everyone of you, no one had ever come through for me like you all did and I will remember your kindness forever, no joke.

Please know that I am always here should any of you ever need support or help of any kind. Bless you all!!!! Happy new year ✨

#me #signal boost #I'm not sure how to tag this to have more ppl see it so I'll probably drop it into the inbox of everyone I reached out to for help

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forever-rogue · 4 years

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All Hallows Eve (In Name Only)

A/N: Alright, alright, it’s spooky time in Dorne! This is set in the series universe, but can be read as a standalone. Obviously, it will make a little but more sense in context, but I hope you enjoy either way! This takes place after Oberyn and Sunshine return to Sunspear, but not necessarily at a specific time. I hope you guys like it and have a safe and spooky Halloween! 👻🦇🎃🧟 As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: None

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"My love?" your voice carried softly throughout your private quarters as you kept an eye out for Oberyn. Before you could say anything else, he appeared in the room, sporting only a pair of clean trousers, his curls wet from being freshly washed. He offered you his typical dazzling smile before sauntering over you, "oh, my moon and stars! I didn't mean to interrupt."

"My sunshine," he grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you towards him. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, "I was just going to look for you."

"Hmm," you beamed as you nuzzled your nose against his, "and to what do I owe the pleasure of your almost search?"

"Nothing in particular," he promised, his lips lingering over yours as you reached up and played with his damp curls, grinning at the one in particular that always seemed to lighten to a soft gold unlike the rest of his unruly mop, "I missed you."

"You flatter me so, my prince," you teased before pulling away and playfully swatting his chest, "but you've just seen me. I believe we spent the night together, broke our fast together, and then parted ways for the most minute bit of time."

"I still missed you," he insisted as you tossed him a new clean tunic, "for what is this prince without his sunshine?"

“I’m going to assume that this prince can survive but a short time apart from me,” you teased as you walked over to the tall, gilded looking glass, adjusting the beautiful golden necklace that Oberyn had recently gifted you. It ended just perfectly above the swell of your breast, and you hadn’t taken it off since he presented it to you.

“Either way,” he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around waist and silently held you for a few moments. It was such a small, but comforting, gesture and if it was up to you, you’d have stayed in his arms forever. Oberyn pressed a kiss to your neck before whispering against your skin, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your search?”

“I fear it’s nothing terribly important...”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me,” he promised, “now go on, tell me.”

“You know what’s coming up in a few weeks, right?” you asked as he met your eyes in the mirror, confusion etched on his face as he tried to figure out what you were talking about. You couldn’t help but laugh at the confusion on his face as you turned to look at him, “really, my prince? Its All Hallows Eve!”

“All Hallows Eve?” he repeated slowly as your eyes widened in surprise, “I’m not quite sure I follow...it’s not much of a big deal is it? It never has been here in Dorne. It’s more stories that have been passed down through generations.”

“Oh my love,” you reached up and grabbed his face, cradling it gently in your hands, “we still have so much to learn from each other, to teach one another...”

“I should be honored to have you teach me more about this apparently important holiday,” he grinned as you nodded before kissing him. He took your hand and led you towards the bed, motioning for you to get in. You eagerly complied as you crawled atop the soft blankets and pillows, laying down on his side as you relished in his scent that always seemed to linger. Oberyn laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms, as you rested your head on his chest, “tell me more.”

“Well, there’s so much to tell. Growing up in the Reach where there are always plentiful and bountiful harvests, we celebrated every autumn. I can remember it even from when I was a little girl,” you remembered particularly how fond your father was of the holiday, always making Honeyholt the center of festivities, “it always signaled the ending of summer - the harvest, and the coming of the new season.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “as is only natural in a place where you have more varied seasons.”

“Not only that,” you continued, “but a lot of people believed it was when the veil between our world and world of the deceased is the thinnest. People would wear costumes as they celebrated, especially around big bonfires, to scare and ward off the dark spirits and try to honor ancestors that had passed. Doing so was to ensure that winter would be successful and not too harsh.”

“I’ve never heard all of this before,” he admitted as you nodded excitedly, “it sounds like fun.”

“Oh it is,” you agreed, “getting to dress up and have big parties with bonfires? It’s amazing! Now that I’m older, I realize a lot of people just like the festivities because it gave them an excuse to drink copious amounts of honeyed wine and ale...but I still like it. It’s tradition, and it has good roots. Plus, children, ones that would dress up, would go from home to home, bringing some of their harvest to others and exchanging them for things they did not have. A little bit of give and take, but it ensures that no one would go hungry during the harshest of the winter months.”

“Who knew the Lords of the North had hearts after all?” he teased as you snorted with laughter, “while I did not know your father, I know he was a good man. I am not surprised he would take it upon himself to do such things, and you’re just like him, always trying your best to give back.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” you insisted, “we have so much and need so little, while others work so hard and have almost nothing. No deserves that - are not all lives created equal and therefore deserving of such things? It was hardly the position of the other Lords of the Reach to think in such a manner. It was often commoners that keep things alive, which I do believe is very telling. But I always liked it, feeling I was helping with something.”

“You help with more than you know,” he took your hands and brought it to his lips, gently placing a kiss to your knuckles, “never doubt that. You are nothing like them.”

“You flatter me so,” you sighed contently, pressing a kiss to the bit of exposed chest that peeked out from under his tunic, “but I love you either way.”

“And I you,” he promised. You laid there in silence for him time before he spoke up again, “would you like to start a new tradition in Dorne?”

“Hmm?”

“All Hallows Eve,” he stated, “perhaps its time we start celebrating it here as well. We have much to be thankful for, and it would be a good way to make sure everyone is set up with what they need for the coming months...”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, you sat up straight, looking at him with eager eyes, glittering with excitement. It was enough to bring the biggest of grins to his own face as you placed your legs on either side of his and planted yourself on his waist.

“Do you mean, my moon and stars?” you asked softly as only nodded in response, his hands finding purchase on your waist, “truly? I-I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want, or have it feel like I’m thrusting this upon you.”

“It would never, and I want to do this,” he promised, as your heart melted at him, “I mean it, if it’s something that’s important and matters to you, then it matters to me as well. Besides, this will be fun, and I think it will be a great opportunity to get to know more of our people. What do you say?”

“Me?” you asked with a gentle laugh as you leaned down and kissed him, “yes. Yes. Of course it’s a million times yes. Thank you so much, my love. I promise you will not be disappointed. It’s going to be so much fun! We’ll have to have all the girls come, and Ellaria and Quentyn and everyone else!”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” he promised, “we’ll make it welcome to everyone. When Exactly is it?”

“October 31st,” you told him excitedly, your mind already buzzing with all sorts of different ideas, “oh...that’s only a few weeks away. I better get planning!”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked softly as you shook your head, “nothing at all?”

“Nope,” you insisted before leaning down and kissing him deeply, “all you have to do is worry about a costume and leave the rest to me. I..thank you for this, Oberyn. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about how fortunate I am to have you as my husband. I love you.”

“And I love,” he promised gently, pulling you down so you were laying on top of him, “I would do anything for you, sunshine. My sunshine.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next few weeks were spent in a rush and a blur as you attempted to plan the biggest and best All Hallows Eve celebration that anyone had ever seen. Luckily, much to your delight, the people of Dorne really wouldn't have much to compare it to, so if it ended up a total disaster at least in your book, no one would know. All they knew were legends and stories of old, but you still wanted to make sure everyone had a good time and was able to get any things they needed for the autumn and winter.

You hadn't experienced this time of year in Dorne yet, and despite the desert-like nature of the region, you were positive the cooler months would bring a similar harshness. You vowed to make sure that no one would be left hunger or forgotten, even if that meant trekking through Dorne with foods and goods yourself.

"A most kind and generous princess," one of the farmers had complimented you as you arranged for him to provide his grain at the big fest. You took his hand and clutched it within yours, thanking him for his kindness and generosity.

"I am no princess sir," you insisted gently, but firmly, "I just want to make sure everyone has what they need."

"But you're married to the prince-"

"Yes, my husband is the Prince," you agreed, "but that does not mean I am just the princess. I am just like everyone else."

"Whatever you say, Princess Martell," he shot you a cheeky wink before heading out with a smile, "I will send you soon the required grain."

"Thank you," you watched him go with a small laugh. Princess Martell. You couldn't deny that you liked the sound of that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were humming to yourself as you moved things about the garden, trying to arrange everything perfectly so that the big bonfire would be able to go in the middle of the large courtyard. The big day was coming in a few days, and you were busy finishing up the last minute preparations. You’d gotten help from seemingly everyone in Sunspear to help make sure the celebration would go smoothly and be a memorable one.

You’d been so busy running around that you hadn’t even had that much time to spend with Oberyn, which he assured was fine a multitude of times. But still, you missed getting to be around him all the time, something you vowed to correct that when this was all over.

“Hello my love,” almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Oberyn was sauntering towards you, his long arms outstretched as you dropped everything in your hands to rush over to him. He was quick to wrap you up in his arms, and spin you around, pressing soft kisses to the side of your head, “oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweetest girl.”

“And I you, my prince,” you promised as he set you back down, “I thought you were going away with Doran on business today?”

“I was...but then I received the most exciting of news,” he admitted as your eyes grew wide with excitement, “and I thought I had to share them with you.”

“Oh? Pray tell what could have been so important that you’ve left all the duties to Doran?” you teased but quickly stopped as you hear the soft pitter patter of wild footsteps on the warm till of the palace floor. Oberyn’s smile widened as you looked past him to find two little blurs running towards you. It was only a few seconds before you were almost knocked over as two little figures tightly hugged your legs.

You automatically knew who they were and bent to hug onto them tightly as they twittered about excitedly. Once they calmed down you pulled back and ruffled their dark hair before offering each of them a kiss on the top of the leads, “hello my sweet ones! How I’ve missed you both.”

Dorea and Loreza gave you eager grins before taking a moment to hug their father. A warm happiness overtook you as spied Elia and Obella following closely behind, along with Elliara. Deciding not to wait for them, you ran over and wrapped them all up in a tight hug, murmuring about how happy you were to see them again. You were - it felt like your little family was completely again. Now all you needed were his older girls and then you’d be all together again. Just like you knew you were all meant to be.

“I’ve missed you all loads,” you told them softly, “I’m so glad you’re all here, and could join us for this.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ellaria promised you as she gently touched your cheek, “it’s important that we honor the things you love and hold dear as well. And it’s important to take care of our people.”

“Indeed it is,” you agreed, “we take care of all people, because we are all one and the same.”

“You are wise beyond your years, young one,” she said softly, “you look well - happy.”

“I am,” you promised, stealing a quick peek back over at Oberyn, who currently had one girl in each arm as he showed all the flowers that the two of you had planted. Your little gaze over was not lost on her, “I am very happy. Beyond what I can put into words.”

“Good,” she beamed at you, “you deserve it. Both of you. Now, please tell us how we can help. Whatever we can do, we shall be more than glad to do it.”

“Thank you,” you beamed at her, “but first tell me, what are you all dressing up as?”

“I’m going as the Stranger,” Obella chirped excitedly, “to honor death and those that have died for us.”

“I’m going as Elia,” none other than her current namesake said excitedly, “to honor her, Papa, and our family. I have one of her old dresses that I’m going to wear. Uncle Doran said I looked just like her.”

“I’m sure she’d be very proud to see you in it,” you told her gently, brushing a few of her dark locks out of her face. You’d heard all the stores about Elia, how just, kind, and caring she was. Oberyn hadn’t brought her up much, only a few times in passing, and while you were curious to know more, you didn’t want to pry and disrespect his boundaries. Maybe one day he’d tell you more about her, “you are a great namesake to her, my sweet girl.”

“And we are going to be warriors” Dorea bounded back over to, practically bouncing on her feet in excitement as Loreza nodded in agreement, “warriors fight and keep everyone safe. Just Like Papa!”

“And two wonderful little warriors you will make,” you grinned at them, “I can’t wait to see all of your costumes!”

“And what will you be?” Obella asked excitedly as you shrugged lightly. You’d been so busy trying to throw everything together that you hadn’t given much thought to your own costume. But you were sure that you could throw something together and have it be decent enough.

“I don’t know that,” you admitted, “perhaps I shall go as a star or the moon. I shall have to think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, it will be wonderful,” Ellaria gave your shoulder a squeeze before rounding up her little flock, “now come you four, we have to unpack and then we shall help wherever we are now. But for now, it’s best we stay out of the way.”

“We shall see you at dinner,” you said softly as you took Oberyn’s hand in yours. They all waved you off excitedly as you turned back to your husband, offering him a soft smile, “this was the exciting news?”

“Indeed,” he said fondly as he kissed your knuckles, “I dare hope you are not too disappointed.”

“On the contrary,” you insisted, “I am beyond happy. I’m happy to have you by my side, happy to have them all here...everything.”

“Good,” he sighed contently, “now, tell me what I can do for you? To help...although I daresay you seem to have handled everything well. The place looks beautiful and everyone is buzzing with excitement. You will put all other festivities to shame, I daresay.”

“I like to think I’ve got some decent organizational skills, maybe one of the few things I’ve gotten from my mother, But I do also have a love of parties and festivals,” you mused, “definitely a trait from my father. But there is one thing you could do for me…”

You brought a hand to his face, touching his cheek before delicately tracing over his nose and jaw before running a handsome through his dark curls. He made a small sound as he closed his eyes and keened into your touch. You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, lingering against him.

“Tell me,” he whispered softly, his hands going to your waist, their grip firm, but delicate as ever as he held onto you, “tell me what you want, sunshine, and you shall it.”

“You,” you whispered against his lips, “I want you, Oberyn. I’ve missed you. I need you. Your kisses, your touch - all of you.”

“What a shame,” he smirked against your lips, “it appears my afternoon is already booked up.”

“Oh?’ you raised an eyebrow at him, “and just what could be so occupying of your time?”

“Spending the afternoon with my queen,” he explained as he took your face in his hands before pressing kisses to the apple of your cheeks, “giving her whatever she should desire, however she should desire.”

“And just who would I be to turn down an offer like that?” you asked as you already felt the heat pooling low in your belly, “I am many things, but I am no fool.”

“Then we have no time to waste.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The evening of All Hallows Eve came faster than you had anticipated, but you were excited to see it come nonetheless. As you were milling about your quarters, slowly attempting to get ready and slip on your costume, you went out onto the balcony. The sun was rapidly setting and the familiar night time glow was setting over Dorne, and you could see bonfires lit everywhere as far as the eye could see. A small smile crossed your lips at the thought that all of that was due to you. You hoped that everyone would enjoy themselves and get what they needed.

"It looks wonderful out there," Oberyn beamed as he found and stood next to you, looking out over his kingdom as he placed a kiss to the side of your head, "you've done a wonderful job, my love. Everyone is buzzing with excitement and I've heard nothing but good things, and have already seen some costumes roaming about the halls."

"I'm sure they'll all be just grand," you agreed as you turned to go back inside, "and just what are you going to be, my love? You haven't told me yet."

"I am going to be the sun, of course," he said as though it was the most obvious thing. You made a small sound of amusement as you found clothes of brilliant, bright gold laid on the bed. You told a hand over, admiring how soft and delicate they were before turning back to him, "would golden glitter everywhere be too much?"

"Not enough I think," you snorted as you spied the golden paint and glitter on the bureau. He was going to be a sight to be marveled at, "it suits you, you know."

"What does?"

"The gold," you took some of the paint and dipped your fingertips in, turning around and swiping some of it on his bare shoulder, "the sun. Everything. You spread sunshine everywhere you go."

"I believe that is better suited for you," he chuckled as he grabbed his costume, "perhaps I should have let you be the sun. Just what have you decided to go as? I'm afraid you've been just as secretive."

"Well, I'm terribly afraid it's nothing exciting so do not get your hopes up," you shrugged as you flaunted over to the wardrobe. You looked over your shoulder to make sure he watched you before unlocking it and slowly pulling out a stunning gown of pale yellow, draped and framed with glittering and dazzling beads and jewels. The skirt was thick and full with silver tulle and lace giving it an almost ethereal appearance, "what do you think?"

"Its beautiful," he agreed, the corners of his mouth slowly turning up into a smile, "and will look even more beautiful once worn by you. The moon? A very smart choice. Though perhaps we would have been more apt to switch costumes."

"I disagree, my moon and stars," you took the gown and walked over to him, kissing the tip of his nose, "I think we have made very good choices. Apparently we are very much on the same page."

"It is true that the sun and moon need each other," he insisted and he helped to strip off your garments, letting them hit the floor before placing kisses on your bare shoulders and collarbones, "one cannot exist without the other."

"A true poet," you praised as you stepped into the gown, letting him help to pull it up and tie it into the back, "although it is true. I do not know what I would be without you, my love."

"Quite fine I am sure," he insisted as he grabbed your jewels from their place in the bedside table. The sun bracelet was placed delicately around your wrist, followed by the necklace that Oberyn had made for you, "I believe it is I that would be far worse off."

"You are a fool of a man if you believe that," you chided softly before pausing to kiss him properly, "but I adore you beyond measure regardless. Now, on with your costume so we can get going. Otherwise people will think we've decided to bunk off."

"Normally you try to get my garments off, not on," he teased as he started to slip his own items on. You'd gone back to the looking glass to adorn yourself with the headpiece you'd had prepared, not unlike a crown, and put some make up onto your features. Oberyn caught your eye and shot you a cheeky wink, "but I suppose that can wait for later."

"I'm afraid it will have to wait, my prince," you agreed, feeling warmth flush all over your face, "besides, I am almost ready and you still need to paint yourself."

"Help me?" he asked innocently as you slowly nodded.

"Of course," you painted your lips in a frosted pale gold before rejoining him, pushing him slowly back on the bed, "what made you choose the sun?"

"The sun brings life, new things, prosperity," he said as you took the golden glitter and brought it down his arms and shoulders, "we cannot survive without the sun. And with it, it brings hope and happiness. I figured it was a good way to honor the ancestors and to ask for a bountiful winter."

"Very good indeed," you agreed, taking some of the excessive glitter and running it through the curls you loved you loved so much, "and gold? It suits you perfectly, although I fear we might have glitter everywhere for some time. But then again, there are worse things in life."

"Indeed there are," he agreed, "besides, I quite like the thought of you covered solely in glitter."

"You just like the idea of me, I'm starting to see," you teased as you brought the paint down the expanse of the exposed parts of his chest.

"What is there not to want?" he insisted as you just laughed, "what made you choose the moon?"

"Well, the moon signals the passage of another day and ushering in of a new one - life, rebirth, a new day," you explained, "I figured it was a good way to bring in a new season and say goodbye to the old."

"How very fitting," he responded as he pulled you into his lap, causing you to giggle wildly, "this is brilliant, all of it."

"I like to think so too," you agreed, making it a point not to touch the last bits of still drying painting on his body, "now be careful, or we'll both be covered in golden glitter!"

"I think it suits you too," he took some of the leftover paint, more glitter by now than pigment or anything else and swiped across the apples of your cheeks and tip of your nose, "a golden beauty. Just as a Martell should be."

"Hmm," you hummed in delight as you slowly climbed off of his lap, "Indeed. And now, we are set and should get going. Otherwise we will be late."

"Fashionably late," he suggested as he went to grab both of your shoes, "but then again, a prince is never late, even else is simply early."

"Well, I do not happen to be a prince, so I do not get that excuse," you pulled on your sandals, "so I prefer to be on time."

"Ahh, but you are my wife," he reminded you,"therefore whatever rules apply to me, apply to you. But then again, if we are already on the verge of being late, perhaps we could just remain absent..."

"Your ploys to keep me in bed will not work," you jokingly scolded with a smile, "besides, we will have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Tomorrow is a day of rest."

"Only if you promise," he offered you his hand after straightening his belt. You took his hand with a nod before pressing a kiss to his cheek, "now shall we grace them with our presence?"

"Indeed we shall, my prince."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Wow," Oberyn's eyes lit up as he looked around the large courtyard. There was a large bonfire in the center, and carved pumpkins scattered around, illuminated everything in a beautifully haunting way. People were already filing in, chatting and laughing merrily as they ate and drank. Luckily, most people seemed to have come in costume, "you did all of this."

"I mean I had a lot of help," you said as he took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, "I couldn't have done it without everyone else's help. It was a collective effort, truly."

"Either way," he beamed at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, "this is wonderful. I like the lanterns too, are they all done by hand?"

"Yes," you grinned, taking him over to one you'd carved that very morning. It was a simple little thing, caringly made with a smile and eyes, "the girls have been helping me. They've been so great, and it was fun for all of us. We just cut the tops off and scoop out the innards and then carve into faces, and then the candle goes inside. Its supposed to ward off evil spirits."

"Very cute," he said as he studied intently, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

"And dual purpose," you said excitedly, "the insides were used to make pies and the seeds were saved to plant a new crop come spring."

"Look at you," he shook his amusement, "always thinking about everything. One of the many things I love about you."

"You're just enchanted by the magic of the evening," you insisted, feeling flustered by his compliment all while relishing into it, "what I've done is nothing special."

"But it is," he promised, waving at the some of the townspeople that had shown up and were eagerly calling out your names, "you've brought a whole new tradition to Dorne."

"Dorne is my home now," you reminded him, "and it is also an honor for me to have everyone embrace it so."

"They love you," he insisted as a few people you passed by stared at your gilded gown in awe, "you're their princess now."

"I should hardly think so," you said shyly as you spotted Ellaria and her girls, who waved excitedly at the two of you, "I'm just here, still the same me as always. I do however have a wonderful and large family now, which I believe is far more than I deserve."

"You deserve the world," he promised as the girls ran over to you. They eagerly hugged you both before twirling around and showing you their costumes.

"Very beautiful," you promised each of them, feeling an almost overwhelmed sense of pride and love in how much effort they put into everything. They really were so much more supportive than you have ever dreamed. Family. They were family, "I hope you all have lots of fun this evening!"

"We've already gotten lots of sweets and cakes," Dorea grinned excitedly as Loreza nodded, "but don't tell Mama."

"Its between us," you winked at her as Obella rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Mama knows," she insisted as Ellaria came over, "and at this rate, we'll never be allowed sweets again."

"I can be more forgiving than you think," she promised her girls with a laugh, "now go and take some sweets and share them with others. Make sure everyone gets some."

"Yes Mama," they echoed as the older two took their younger sister's hands and they walked off to help pass out treats.

"You two look stunning as ever," she grinned as your face flushed with warmth, "the sun and the moon. How very fitting."

"And to think, we didn't even know what the other was planning," Oberyn's arm wrapped your waist as he gave her arm a squeeze, "thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she insisted, "this will be a wonderful tradition to start in Dorne. But let me not occupy you any longer, I'm sure everyone is eager for a glimpse of the pair of you."

"We shall see you soon," he promised as you nodded. You were so thankful for her presence; she had a way of making you feel warm and cared for. It was a far cry from how you had felt in the beginning after your first meeting.

As you continued your jaunt about the courtyard and gardens, you pointed out everything to him and explained the significance and meaning behind the traditions and symbolism. He was enraptured, almost as if by magic, as he listened to you speak. There was something about you that always made him feel so calm and at peace, as though his heart and slow were at home.

At one point you spotted his older girls, all decked out like their younger sisters, helping out and getting boxes of goods that would hold for the winter to take those who needed them. Kindness, you decided, was definitely a Martell trait, and you hoped that none of them, or whatever possible future children of sorts you had, would ever lose that spark.

You had mentioned to him, more in passing than anything else that you had often gone around Honeyholt, passing around pies and treats to families nearby. A part of you knew that he would remember, but you hadn't expected him to want to commit to such a thing.

"What do you think?" he asked with a gentle in the direction of a full cart near the entrance to the kitchens. You looked back at him with wide, gleaming eyes, as you eagerly nodded.

"Seriously?" you asked as you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly between your own, "Oberyn, I would love to. It will be so nice to give a little something back."

"Then we shall do it," he promised, "come on, sweetest of honeys."

And that's you ended up with Oberyn at your side, each of you using one hand to pull a full cart of goods, your others hands entwined together in the middle. It was, like so many other things with Oberyn, utterly wonderful and despite being a somewhat monotonous task was fun.

You told him about your childhood in Honeyholt and your favorite holiday traditions, and he told him yours. He was such a naughty child, a smart, bold little thing from the start. Knowing how smart and mischievous Dorea and Loreza were, you had no doubt that they were the spitting image of a young Oberyn.

"Would you like to do the honors?" he asked as you stopped at the first row of houses nearing the outskirts of the village. You took a load of pies and other goods in your arms and nodded, letting him help you to the door, knocking on it gently. It was a few moments before the door always opened. A young man stuck his head as he looked at the two of you suspiciously. It was only a moment before he realized who you were, after looking Oberyn up and down.

"Oh! I-I apologize," he opened the door and gave you each a look of awe, "your highness, Lady Martell! I didn't..."

"It is okay," you insisted with a big smile, "its All Hallows Eve today. We've come to bring you some treats and goods to usher in the new season!"

"For us?" he took the items from your hands as you beamed at him, "h-how could we ever thank you-"

"There's absolutely nothing to thank us for," Oberyn insisted as the young man appeared to be close to tears. While the Martells reigned over Dorne with a kind, gentle manner, this was still more than anyone expected.

"From our family to yours," you agreed, "and if you ever need anything, our home and help is open and extended to you."

"Thank you," he said as he shook each of your hands in turn, "thank you so much. I appreciate this more than words could express."

From there, the two of you went from house to house, giving people things from your cart until there was nothing felt. Others from your household were doing the same thing, all of you going to different parts of Sunspear. You'd asked the other noble families in the various parts of Dorne to do the same, hoping they would listen and follow your lead.

By the time you finished, it was late, later than you had thought, and you were worn out. Worn out, but happy and glad to have brought All Hallows Eve to Dorne.

When you returned to the palace, the fires were still burning bright, and people were milling about and having fun. The costumes you had seen were all wonderful, and you'd gotten to hear so many stories about people's family members that had passed away.

"Your father would be proud," Oberyn promised quietly as you sat near one of the bonfires, "he'd be so proud of the woman you are."

"Thank you," you turned to him with soft eyes, "he was...always my biggest supporter. I miss him, terribly sometimes, but its not as bad anymore."

"Why's that?" he asked as you leaned over to him, putting your hand gently on his cheeks as you stroked his soft skin.

"Because of you," you whispered softly, “and your, our, family. You love me, and have given me so much more love and kindness than I could ever dream of. You are my heart, my sweet prince."

"It is not common for me to be at a loss for words," he said softly, "and yet you continually leave me stunned."

"Its because you love me," you grinned with a kiss to the tip of his nose, laughing when some of the golden glitter got on your face, "and you are a silly fool when it comes to love."

"Neither of those are lies," he insisted, "I am a most weak hearted fool for my wife."

You hummed in content as you rested your head on his shoulder, looking into the fire as a sense of tiredness overwhelmed you. But at the same time, you had a question on your mind that you'd been curious about for some time. You figured now would be the perfect time to ask him, "Oberyn?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Your sister, Elia, what was she like?" you asked softly, "I...I'm sorry if that's out of turn, but I'm just curious. I've heard so many wonderful things about her...I would have loved to meet her."

"Its okay," he promised as you relaxed slightly, "she would have loved you and you would have loved her. She was the youngest out of the three of us. Every bit the opposite of me, she was fearless and kind, always going into everything with passion and open heart. She never made anyone feel inferior, she made everyone feel welcome and loved. She always wanted the best for her people, her husband, her children...she was one of the many people that met a cruel and wicked fate she did not deserve, nor her children. I've always...wanted to avenge her. I've come close, but luckily, I stopped before it was too late."

"In King's Landing...before the Purple Wedding..." you finished for him as you felt him nod. If even one decision had been made differently, you would not be sitting next to him, or calling him your husband, "whatever happened, I'm glad nothing happened to you."

"Ellaria was able to talk some sense into me," he admitted as you turned your head and kissed him, "as always."

"She is one of the smartest women for a reason," you agreed, "and one of the strongest if she was able to get you to see reason!"

"You wound me so," he laughed.

"You are stubborn, but I love you," you sighed as you took his hand and held it tightly in yours, "tonight we honor and celebrate her life and my father's. And those others who had left our worldly realm."

"Yes," he agreed, feeling himself get choked up, "to Elia and Haymitch."

"But you're wrong, you know," you said as you slowly stood up and reached for his hands.

"How so?"

"You're not the opposite of Elia," you insisted, "you're quite like her actually. Kind, brave, smart, loyal, handsome. You may not see it in yourself, my prince, but it is true."

"Have I told you that I love you?" he asked as he pulled you into his arms.

"I think so," you grinned at him, "but I'm not opposed to hearing it again."

"I shall repeat it until my dying breath - I love you."

"And I you," you played gently with some of the curls at the nape of his neck, "shall we retire for the evening, my love?"

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Help me?" you asked as you took off your jewelry and stood in front of the mirror. Oberyn was already stripped down to his britches, his skin still painted with golden glitter. He came up behind you, his hands going to your waist as he took the delicate circlet from the crown of your head, setting it down along with your necklace and bracelet. He kissed along your shoulder before burying his face into your neck, "Oberyn! I meant help me take this dress off!"

"I know," he grinned as he started to undo the back of your dress. He moved with deliberate slowness, making sure to touch every inch of your skin as it became bared to him, "is it horrible of me to say you look gorgeous in this dress, and even better without it?"

"Not at all, my prince," you grinned as the heavy fabric pooled at your feet, leaving in your simple undergarments. You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you held him close. He kissed you gently as he slowly moved to finish undressing you, "you're going to cover me with glitter and gold!"

"You say it as though this is a bad thing," he teased as you moved to finish undressing him, "but if you want me to stop, I will gladly oblige you."

"Don't stop," you whispered against his lips, "make me as golden as you."

"You are already so golden, my love," he promised softly as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. It was such a tender, intimate act that it was enough to make you feel so safe and warm and at peace, "thank you for this."

"For this evening, bringing us a wonderful new tradition," he whispered, "for everything, my sunshine. I love you more than you could ever know."

"And I love you, my prince," you promised him, pressing kisses all over his face, "now I implore you to take me to bed and make me yours."

"Anything for you, my queen."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #in name only #fem reader #all hallows eve #prince oberyn #sunshine and her moon and stars

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moonbeamsung · 3 years

Text

Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kisshim @radiorenjun

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

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