Christmas Fic - Tumblr Posts

Chapter 13 is up!! Shortly following will be the new Short Broken Bones Heal Pt. 2!  Internet is choppy today, go figure, but please be patient. 

O Magnum Mysterium

A very belated Christmas gift for the dear Flower, who adores this pairing as much as I do. Sorry it’s so incredibly late! <3

A big thank you to queerapostate for the excellent beta.

NOTES: This is a time stamp from a Winnix universe I haven’t published the first establishing fic yet for, so I hope it’s not too confusing. xD The short points are they leave New Jersey, they get a rundown farmhouse, grow some livestock feed, Dick battles with his PTSD, Lew battles his alcoholism and there’s both strife and happiness. Once I get the other story finished, I’ll rope them all into a series.

Also! The choral piece mentioned is Morten Lauridsen’s “O Magnum Mysterium.” It’s my very favorite and the sole catalyst for this fic. Here’s a link to the best version (in my opinion.)

https://open.spotify.com/track/31zjVEWfYxkeuuSnUHyUz3?si=3tlZhoH3R1ux1ydHAX2uSw

There are six Catholic churches in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

Dick Winters visits five of them, his irritation and worry compounding with each crossed threshold, before he finds what he’s looking for.

It’s dark outside by the time he makes it to St. Mary’s. The temperature is rapidly dropping and the coat he threw on in the rush from the house does little to prevent the wind from snatching at his torso. He shivers, blowing into his hands before tugging at the iron latch handle of the entrance. The chime of bells at the top of the hour serve a melodic welcome as he shuts the thick door behind him, and with it the cold. The candlelight is dim enough that his eyes take a blinking moment to recalibrate after being in the snow-bright landscape outside.

At first, he’s taken aback by the splendor of the architecture and art within. It’s an unfamiliar style of worship, looming and lousy with decoration at every turn. Dick is used to a more humble religion. One without gold and marble. One that can be practiced in the lonely forests of Belgium by unlearned men in holes in the ground. A common man’s worship in a common tongue.

In the warmth of a thousand candles and the sacrament of the scenes painted on the walls, he can pick out nuances he knows and stories he cherishes and bridge the gap between the sects. He can look past the ceremony and see a place where a mosaic of people from different backgrounds and ages might gather to pray and serve.

Behind an altar crowned with poinsettias and greenery, the apostles and saints reach towards the gates of Heaven in a baroque style triptych. The frescoes on the dome are cracking in places, the oil and tempera separating from the plaster, but it ends up serving as a compliment to the historic brick and marble.

This place is old. The aura is old. The prayers that are patinated in layers on the friezes are old and the devotion resonating within these walls are an echo that can be felt rather than heard. So many souls have stopped here before, seeking something as he does. Surely some found what they were after. He hopes his luck sides with them.

Dick’s guard drops a hair and though it holds all the awkwardness of waving to a dear friend only to find out it’s a look-alike stranger, he crosses himself before making his way into the sanctuary.

He gives the crossing a scan, eyes darting to the handful of heads meandering along the altar or scattered amongst random pews. None of them are the person he seeks and with a grimace, he’s just about to turn on his heel and make for the final unchecked church across town, when the slightest movement draws his eye to the left.

There – shielded behind a line of towering columns. He’s sitting in the middle of the nave, on the farthest side of the aisle, closest to a magnificent pieta statue surrounded by red candles. Sprawled over the back of the pew like it’s a personal lounge chair. The darker side of the church, the long shadows cast by the flames shift and sway like an organic thing, softening the stone and somehow making the grandeur more domestic. A nook in which sinners can burrow and avoid their penance being on display.

It makes sense. Lewis Nixon would never willingly venture into a house of God unless there was a decent hiding spot.

Dick makes his way over to where he sits, taking great care to walk as softly as possible to avoid making a clatter of footfall on the stone. He slides into the pew behind Nixon, who makes no indication he’s noticed his arrival. He perches on the edge of the bench, elbows propped just to Nixon’s left.

“What are you doing here,” Dick whispers testily into his ear.

Nixon doesn’t startle. Instead, he wings a brow and flashes a smirk over his shoulder that suggests the answer should be obvious. He points up to the altar where the priest has just ceased communion for the evening and then to the choir shuffling in to assemble along the tabernacle for rehearsal.

“Thought it’d be nice to have dinner and a show,” he says, sounding pleased with himself.

Dick’s mouth goes pinched and he grits his teeth. His ire is too potent at the moment for Nix’s characteristic glibness to be charming. He has half a mind to drag him out into the street by his ear like an unruly child.

“I’ve been looking for you for hours . The house isn’t fit for guests, the cow and horses didn’t get brought in, and your sister arrives on the 8 o’clock train. Not to mention the active war zone you left of the kitchen.”

Nix’s sigh is dramatic and world-weary. “A man can’t make pies from scratch without a creative process.”

“You didn’t leave a note, Nix. I had to telephone Isabella Burris to find out where you’d gone.”

Nixon hums in false sympathy and slouches further down, somehow taking up more space than before. “And you said having a stalker wouldn’t come in handy.”

Dick leans forward on the edge of his seat, his grip on the wood at Nix’s shoulder groaning in warning from the pressure.

“Lewis,” he says, measuredly, each syllable given its own weighted pause. “It’s time to come home. It’s Christmas Eve.”

Nix ignores him, squinting up at the Madonna that casts a watchful eye on their scene from up on her pedestal.

“What do you think went through her mind when the angels told her, Dick? That her baby boy was doomed to become a sacrificial lamb.”

With a sigh, Dick drags a hand down his face, circling back up to press at the tension headache that’s gearing up behind his eye sockets.

“Nix–“

“Do you think she would have turned the job offer down if she’d known how it would end? Hell, would any of us have said yes to death if we’d known?”

“Nix, where’s the bottle?”

Nixon grins over his shoulder again, and pulls his coat lapels open to flash the inner pockets. Then he throws his hands wide, as if inviting Dick to pat him down.

“There isn’t one,” he promises. “This is genuine, all natural Nixon existential rumination.”

He has no reason to doubt Nix. Shameless creature that he is, he’s never lied about his drinking before. Or the relapses. It’s taken almost three years, countless tribulations and a brief fracturing of their relationship, but the sobriety streak is finally starting to hold. Nix has found other ways to overpower the demons in his head and Dick has never been prouder of him. Determined to be as supportive a partner as he can be, he’s learned to read the warning signs, the little flags that are raised when Nix’s will is in danger of collapsing. There have been no flags recently. He’s on good terms with his sister again and though his mother’s illness is a stressor, he’s been coping well. The fall harvest was more bountiful than they’d anticipated so the money is alright for a while and the furnace on the back of the farmhouse is holding steady from Nix’s most recent repairs. There is no external reason he can see for diving back into a bottle today. Still, there’s a nagging of guilt at having to interrogate him, and Dick ducks his head.

“I had to ask,” he says, in way of an apology.

There’s no sarcasm in Nix’s smile. Just a forgiving fondness. “I know.”

It occurs to Dick then; Nix has sought the sanctity of an unfamiliar Catholic church on Christmas Eve, sober and in sound mind, with a necessity strong enough to abandon his hosting responsibilities. He’s left Dick to fret about his whereabouts in order to meditate alone in the shadows.

There’s a reason. Nix doesn’t do whimsies. He doesn’t make Dick worry anymore without justification.

He stands and circumnavigates the end of the pew to slide into the spot next to Nix, readjusting the ends of his scarf into his lap with a gentle clearing of his throat. The impending and formidable list of remaining chores to do before day breaks is pushed outside the boundaries of the space they occupy, momentarily unimportant. Dick glances briefly at Nix, who doesn’t acknowledge his new position, then raises a parallel gaze to the Madonna.

They wait.

After a few bars of warm up, the choir picks up a gentle, harmonic piece that starts soft and raises in dynamic like undulating waves. The acoustics blend and twirl their sound into something much grander than their eight member count suggests. Something ethereal and angelic.

Dick rations his breathing, allowing the weight of preparing the farmhouse for Christmas on schedule to get carried away into the dulcet overtones. It’s easy.  To ground himself and sit down for a change, to let his mind slowly switch into observation mode instead of action. It’s a setting so rarely used. Too many things to keep the farm and the business and the relationship working and never enough hours in the day.

He can’t recall the last time he sat down to breathe deeply. To invite music into his consciousness instead of stress.

“Oh great mystery and wonderful sacrament,” Nix translates softly, tilting his head to catch the elongated vowels of the next sung phrase. “That the animals should see the newborn Lord storytelling? Trifling? Shit, hold on. Iacentem in context. Ah! Lying. Lying in a manger.”

“You speak Latin?” He shouldn’t be surprised at this point that Nix can still surprise him.

Nix flashes him a smirk that could be considered flirty. “Only enough to be abysmal at it.” He waggles his heavy brows. “My tongue is much better suited for other things.”

Despite the inevitable start of a flush at the innuendo, Dick frowns, shoulders stiffening. He cuts a quick check of the perimeter to double check for potential eavesdroppers. “We are in a church, Lew.”

Nix gestures up and down the length of his reclining figure. “The Lord knows what He made when He made it, Dick. I make no apologies.”

“So it’s a nativity hymn,” says Dick, attempting to steer the conversation back into neutral territory.

Sensing a potential spike in Dick’s hard earned requiescence, Nix backs off, ducks his head in a half-hearted nod.

“More or less,” he tells him. “This is more of a Gregorian mimic than a true chant. It’s sort of splicing where the admiration is aimed, between mother and child. The subject narrative is messy. But their intonation is good – as far as I can tell.”

He forgets sometimes, that Nixon is not only ivy-league educated, but well versed in categories rarely mentioned. He’s heard him pick out complicated Rachmaninoff compositions on charred, out-of-tune pianos in bombed out buildings, has seen him tinker tractor engines back to wholeness after complete dissection. Nix knows the steps to three forms of waltzes and can hold his own against politicians in discussions of economic merit. He’s bored with the daily crossword puzzles in the newspaper and can recite Shakespearean sonnets from memory if the subject being mocked is worth the joke.

The Lew he knows is whip-smart and clever to a fault, his intelligence the cause of a good many daily struggles, including his penchant for laziness and the need to drown his claptrap memory with booze.

It’s easy to forget he is also the more sensitive of the two of them.

Guilt suddenly gnaws at Dick’s repose and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s missed something. Something small and perhaps vital lost to the hustle and bustle of trying to perfect a false image of what happy holidays should look like, instead of paying attention to what was in front of his face.

He wants to ask, to demand what the oversight is so he can correct it quickly and not fall victim to his shortcomings as a partner until after Christmas has passed. But Nixon’s posture, sprawled and feline as it is, is distant. Something tells him it would be the wrong choice. Instead he twists at the waist to face Nix, using body language to telegraph what he should have opened with as soon as he laid eyes on him in the pew.

I’m here now, Lew. I’m listening.

It takes Nixon until the second chorus to speak again. He’s still staring up at the Madonna, like she might drop down to offer some insight if he squints hard enough.

“You remember that night in Rachamps?” he asks.

How can he not remember in a place like this? “Sure.”

“You told me you didn’t want to be Battalion anymore.”

“I remember.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Making Battalion? Or wanting out of it?”

“Either.”

Dick reflects for a moment, hands in his lap. He draws up the harsh mental image of Foy’s snowscape, the white soiled with angry, viscous red. He thinks of the men, slumped and drained in pews similar to these, the candlelight doing no favors to the deep lines etched in their blank faces. He thinks of the ghosts he brought back home with him instead of the bodies he left.

It had been the only time he’d confessed his doubts of being a leader out loud. Nix had sat vigil with him until the candles had died and the first break of dawn had started to stream through the stained glass, sacrificing sleep to bemoan the heavy weight of responsibility with Dick instead.

“It doesn’t really matter what I said, Nix,” he sighs at last. “It was war and it happened and I did the job.”

Nix fixes him with a shrewd, victorious look. The one Dick hates, the one that suggests he might as well be made of glass for how well Nix can see through him.

“That what you tell God?”

Dick refuses to meet his eye, annoyed at being led into a trap. “You know it isn’t,” he says softly.

Nixon falls silent again, but there’s a lean to his posture in Dick’s direction now. Immeasurable and small. Dick is encouraged nevertheless.

“What happened?” he risks asking in the same low tone.

Without a word, Nix reaches into his coat pocket, fishing around for a moment with something that's jammed against the seam. He pulls out a Christmas card, tastefully ornate and crumpled slightly around the edges, and drops it unceremoniously into Dick’s lap.

Dick flips open the card and gives the cheerful well wishes within a perfunctory scan. The handwriting is feminine and unfamiliar.

“Who’s Betty Ann Rollins?”

Nix grins again, but this time it’s the grim one that suggests he’s skirting the frayed edge of his cool.

“Oh, the sister of one of those kids who died in Operation Varsity. I wrote her a letter wishing her condolences for her brother getting blown to smithereens for his country and she wrote back to wish me a Merry Christmas. Same as last year. And the year before that.”

He can see it now, the way Nix’s dimples wobble just for a millisecond, the way his throat bobs as he struggles to swallow. Little tells leak through that betray his cavalier exterior and let the heartbreak he doesn’t let anyone but Dick glimpse at. The heartbreak he’s tried for years to poison and drown.

Sitting alone in the church pew, without the defense of liquor, all on his own, Nix suddenly seems so small and vulnerable. Dick has the strangest urge to tuck him into the tails of his coat, to bolster up his defenses with an extra layer of wool in case it might help. But though the nave is sparsely populated, they’re still in public and Dick has never resented a church building so much as he does in this exact moment.

He risks overlapping his pinkie with Nix’s, the smallest touch to bridge the distance between them. Nix blinks quickly a few times but offers no other reaction. Nothing to draw attention to them. Pragmatic, even in the face of his grief.

He’d been so upset that day. Operation Varsity: the only time Dick had been left behind and unable to plummet with him into hell. He can still recall Nixon’s drawn face in perfect clarity. He’d been so worried, had wanted nothing more than to take Nix up in his arms the moment he laid eyes on his intact form, the rush of relief at seeing him whole and hearty making him dizzy. But Nix had changed that day. Something small and fundamental had cracked and even after all this time, Dick has never managed to patch it quite right. His normal cocky confidence was rattled, his eyes black with anger and husky voice dripping heart blood with each short word.

He’d asked Dick’s opinion on how to phrase that letter, worried not a tick for his own demotion but only about crafting a letter that might save his soul if worded just right. Dick had been so furious with him, his weakness, too exhausted and worried and sick of the waste himself to have much empathy left. He hadn’t handled the situation well, letting Nix drink himself unconscious rather than deal with his fractured resolve. He’d been drowning at the time too. Instead of throwing him a life preserver, Dick had simply turned the other way. For all intents and purposes pouring the remnants of a whiskey bottle over Nix’s choking, gasping mouth on the way out the door. It still plagues him now and then, when Nix’s nightmares so violently interrupt their shared bed and leave them both sleepless with memory.

He’s so much older than he was then. Maybe the years might argue but he feels it in his mind, in his threadbare soul.

He hopes he cherishes Nix better now.

The choir dips into a melancholy, hushed segment of the hymn that seems written only to accompany Nixon’s mourning. The alto’s dissonant chord strikes something painful and bittersweet behind Dick’s ribs and he wraps the entirety of his digit around the place a wedding band would sit on Nix’s finger if he made the rules.

Then he tucks the card carefully into his own coat pocket with his free hand and sits back with deep breath. He holds it, squinting pensively up at the nearby altar, and then exhales slowly through his nose.

“I think,” he starts slowly, “Mary might have been strong enough to choose love.”

Nixon turns to him then, his beautiful dark eyes haunted and glassy. His brow furrows a fraction in question.

Dick lifts a shoulder carefully. “Well. I imagine, no matter how profound her sorrow was, the love she had for her child would trump it. That no matter what it costs her, she would choose the same outcome for that reason. That she might eventually come to see her sacrifice as a strength, the way the rest of us do.”

Nixon scoffs, the noise wet and undignified, and turns his head away so his bone structure is in stark profile and his devastation half hidden. His tongue darts out to lick at his chapped lips, one after the other.

“How the hell is that a strength?”

“Those who can mourn the dead are always the strongest, Lew,” Dick answers softly. “There’s no pain in paradise. Only in surviving here and remembering.”

He’ll outlive Lew. He can feel it in his bones. The way old timers with arthritis pocking their joints can feel when rain is nigh. One day he will carry Lew out of their lives together in a heavy box and wake up the next morning alone. Remaining but lacking. Shot back into the pallid, monotone world without Lewis Nixon’s color.

He likes to think he won’t regret it all when that time comes. That he’ll still carry such a strong torch for this brilliant, perceptive, titanically flawed man to the end of his days and count his life blessed. Perhaps that’s just purposefully calloused thinking. He’s not sure. He’s never done this before.

For the moment, Nix accepts his answer and shirks back into his own fortress of thoughts. Dick withdraws his hand and they part organically, still close enough for comfort without being intrusive.

“Tell me more about this Heaven with no pain,” Nix says.

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes,” Dick recites diligently, his voice a murmur and almost inaudible over the swelling of the choir. “And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

“Former things, huh?”

“Yep. That’s all they are now.”

Nix is staring up at the Virgin again, but his glare has lost some of its harshness. There’s something wistful, some hint of childlike wonder, to his reflection. “Sounds promising.”

“I’ve always thought so.”

“So you still think I’ll make the cut?”

He’s always hated having to defend his stance on this with Nix. Especially since his relationship with God has been through an upheaval in the past few years and the foundation of his beliefs shifting and evolving the way natural things under immense pressure shift and evolve rather than crumble. He doesn’t know how to convince a good man to grant himself amnesty. He’s still fighting that battle on his own. And he might never win.

“Well finally attending Church certainly gives you some points,” Dick tells him, flashing the lopsided smile he saves just for him.

Nix snorts and Dick relaxes a fraction, glad to break through his somber mood, if only for a little while.

The choir reaches its pinnacle, the climax of the soprano rising to the arched ceilings to shatter gently like a million points of light. It falls like rain to join the flickering candles and for one brief moment, the whole church is illuminated with radiant ringing gold. Something swells in Dick’s chest, making everything tight and as the harmonies slide gracefully into a major chord resolution, there’s a great release that feels as close to absolution as he’s ever been. As if the song itself could flood out and touch them with a gilded hand, baptizing them just for one night.

Nix sucks in a ragged breath and when Dick glances over at him, his eyes are misty.

“Damn,” he breathes, enraptured. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Dick is not watching the choir. His gaze is trained on Nix’s face.

“Yes it is,” he agrees.

“What does your heaven look like, Dick?”

Dick watches the candlelight flicker in Nixon’s wide, shining eyes, highlighting the wild peaks of his dark hair, the Christmas lights back lighting his silhouette like a halo, and the luminous harmony of a choir wreathed around him. Watches as he succumbs to the magnetic pull of Dick’s offered support and leans into his personal space like he’s got a right to, in view of the priest and patrons and Christ Himself. Watches as he’s moved to tears by a dead language praising a God Dick loves so dearly, the same one Nix can’t bring himself to forgive. Watches him fall in love against his own will with the concept of an eternity that’s peaceful.

There is not the shame there once was in thinking he’ll go to no Heaven where this man can’t follow. Only a serene sort of resolution.

“Something like this,” Dick murmurs to himself.

“How’s that?” Nix leans in to hear him better. Close enough to bump their shoulders together.

“I said I’m not sure,” clarifies Dick, a bit louder.

The song dies down, its last whisper-soft notes lingering sweetly in the air and leaving behind a sense of glowing warmth that seeps into the bones. Lightens the load of the weary and serves as a brace for venturing back out into the cold. The few gatherers who rise sporadically from the pews do so with happy sighs, their faith threaded back together and their hearts filled with sonorous gold.

Dick waits until they’ve cleared and then puts a gentle hand to Nix’s knee, shaking him out of his reverie and back into the present.

“Come on, Lew,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

Nix gives his head a shake, clearing the last remnants of the music’s spell from his ears and uncurling from his seat to start at the buttons of his coat. He stands and slides out of the pew, waiting for Dick with eyes clearer than before.

In his distraction, he’s missed the closures on a few buttons and with a chuckle, Dick beckons him closer. Starts to erase the mistake one button at a time.

Nix winces and shies away as his fingers graze his neck. “Your hands are cold,” he complains. “Why aren’t you wearing your gloves?” He waves Dick away with a disgruntled face and takes over the task himself.

“Sorry,” says Dick.

Nix gives him that smile again, the one too fond to be completely teasing and it produces the same warm buzz inside Dick’s chest that hymns do.

“That’s alright,” Nix tells him. “I’ll just have to warm you up in the car. Can’t have you botching your perfect wrap job on the presents due to numb fingers, can we?”

There are six Catholic churches in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

But there’s only one Dick Winters returns to every December, just long enough to stop in and hear the choir rehearse a motet about Mary’s quiet joy and sorrow at being brave enough to bear the burden of love and everything that comes with it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36341782

Leave me comments/emojis/just random noises on my ao3 please and thank you! :D

Christmas Lists

Author: Anonymous

For: Aristi

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 1,726

Rating: General 

Content: Gift giving, Fluff, Established relationship, Post-Hogwarts

Warnings: None

Summary:

Harry thought he was being ridiculously clever and romantic when he proposed that for their first Christmas together they must give each other gifts from the heart - nothing store-bought. They are both wealthy enough to buy whatever they want anyway. But he never expected that it would be this hard.

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

Good Will Towards Men

Author: Anonymous

For: @crapfaerie​ / crapfaerie

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, hints of Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson, past Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter

Word Count: 16,654

Rating: General

Content: Auror Partners, Christmas Fluff, Pining, Banter, EWE

Warnings: None

Summary:

Harry slowly falling for his partner? Approved. Stuck in a small room together over Christmas filling out paperwork? Approved.

Having an honest conversation about his feelings? Request denied.

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

Help Draco Get Laid Brigade

Author: Anonymous

For: quacklinq

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 3,774

Rating: Teen & up

Content: Texting Fic, Christmas Fluff, Gift Exchange, Getting Together

Warnings: None

Summary:

Draco is coerced into attending a holiday party hosted by the Gryffs. Who should he get for the anonymous gift swap but Harry Potter? What could he possibly get for his school rival?

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

Draco Malfoy and the World’s Best Tree Topper

Author: Anonymous 

For: moondraconis 

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 7,284

Rating: Explicit

Content: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Sex Toys

Warnings: None (bar a Christmas tree shaped butt plug)

Summary:

It’s Draco’s first Christmas with the Weasley’s and Harry has a little something extra under the tree to take his boyfriend’s mind off things.

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

Banner image: here

I wanna ruin our friendship

Author: Anonymous

For: @ziezie13​ / ZieZie13

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 5,104

Rating: Teen & up

Content: Auror Partners, Jealous Harry, Pining, Nargles in the Mistletoe

Warnings: None

Summary:

Harry isn’t homophobic, obviously, but why does he feel sick every time he sees Draco with his new boyfriend?

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

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Devious Darling Delights

Author: Anonymous

For: @fluxweeed​ / fluxweed

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 3,491

Rating: Explicit

Content: Auror Partners, Aphrodisiacs, Banter, Pining, PWP, Accidental Voyeurism, Love Confessions

Warnings: None (the lightest Dom/sub)

Summary:

In which Harry is a slob, Draco is a chocolate thief, and they both get exactly what they deserve.

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

All Our Tomorrows (I Want Forever with You)

Author: Anonymous

For: @manixzen​

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 12,668

Rating: Teen & up

Content: Fic & Art, Hogwarts Professors, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Fluff and Humour, Light Angst, Snow, Earl Grey Tea, Matchmaker Cat

Warnings: None 

Summary:

Spoiler: they kiss.

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

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Read this. No, seriously. Go read it right now. It's so fucking good, y'all. I don't even have the right words to convey the depth of my love for this fic. 😭😭😭💛💛💛

Wrapped

Author: Anonymous

For: @maesmora​ / MaesMora

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 10,315

Rating: Explicit

Content: Auror Partners, Pining, Idiots in Love, Ribbons, Light Bondage, Christmas Smut

Warnings: None

Summary:

“Harry,” Draco said slowly. “You understand how Christmas presents work, don’t you?”

Harry attempted a smile. “Well, I thought I did until about ten minutes ago.”

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

Banner image: here

Wishful thinking

Author: Anonymous 

For: @corinalannister​

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 1,862

Rating: General

Content: Eighth Year, Post-War, Pre-Slash

Warnings: None

Summary:

“Together,” Harry offered. “Very well then,” Draco accepted. “Together.”

Read it now on AO3!

⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

The Last Bachelor’s Eve

Author: Anonymous

For: @withgreatelan​

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Word Count: 6,340

Rating: Mature

Content: Christmas Party, Fluff, Gift Giving, Banter, Being In Your Thirties, Draco Likes Harry’s Hands, Attorney!Draco, Oblivious Harry Potter (past)

Warnings: None

Summary:

Pansy picked up the package and gave it a shake. “Please tell me you got him something outrageous, like personalized bed sheets that say ‘The Next Mr. Malfoy.’”

Draco glared at her and welcomed the arrival of his drink. “A scarf, actually.”

“Let me guess: is it a lovely emerald green?”

“No.” It was forest green. Totally different. “But it is a lovely colour,” he said, tugging the gift out of her reach. She was going to crunch the paper.

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⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨

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merry christmas & happy holidays<3 I NEED to read the angstiest christmas fluff ever ok pls send fic recommendations pls im dying here

the waltz between us

↳ a christmas story.

◇ pairing: jimin | reader ◇ genre: angst and fluff ◇ word count: 15.754 ◇ warnings: mentions of alcohol

Taehyung always said there was something different about the house.

Located among stray trees on the side of a lonely mountain, the cottage that belonged to the Kim family stuck out like a sore thumb. It rose high and mighty, with sturdy wooden walls that had stayed put through countless snowstorms, and a thick roof pierced by two chimneys that puffed out billows of smoke during the coldest nights of winter. You could even describe it as menacing, and those unfamiliar with said place would agree without hesitation. There was a strangely compelling atmosphere that surrounded it, not particularly threatening, but intimidating nonetheless.

When you were young you always blamed the woods looming behind, which looked undoubtedly creepy at night. Taehyung, on the other hand, always claimed the cabin was alive.

It was, of course, the butt of the jokes within your group of friends — but no matter how many ghost stories you whispered into each other’s ears, there was still a sense of familiarity within the walls of that house, one that bound you close together in an unexplainable, but certain way.

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Christmas Morning

Congrats on 2k follows 🫶🏻

For the Christmas asks what do you think each of the Peaky Blinders men would get for their partners? How would Christmas morning look for them when they’re opening their gifts?

Tommy

🌿 I think for Tommy he's torn between feeling like Christmas should be a totally sacred day for family and family only...

🌿 the football match in the trenches on Christmas is probably something he holds dear and so he believes that Christmas is a day of peace and goodwill to all men... After many Christmases alone, Christmases of loss and sorrow

🌿 But he's also all too aware that not everyone else honours the day in the same way as he does, especially his enemies... so Christmas is a half and half kind of day to him, he wants to spend it with his family relaxing and being in the arms of everyone he loves, but he also knows he can't afford to put his schemes on hold, can't afford to drop his guard...

🌿 so he still sleeps with a gun beneath the bed on Christmas Eve and he still lies awake listening for the sounds of intruders, paranoid as he is... You tease him, "who's that for? Father Christmas?" And he lets you get away with your teasing because it's Christmas...

🌿 Tommy doesn't sleep well, but he knows half of the fun of Christmas morning for the kids, is that it's the only day of the year they're allowed to wake mummy and daddy up as early as they like...

🌿 so even though Tommy would usually be up at the crack of dawn, on Christmas morning he forces himself to go back to sleep, or at least to pretend to be sleeping until the little ones come bursting in jumping on the bed to wake him up..

🌿 he's usually so relieved to hear their little footsteps down the hall, and most of the time he wakes you when he hears them so that their jumping on you doesn't come as a sudden scare... Sometimes though he can think of nothing better than to let them make you jump... Because when they do and you squeal and get that little fright, it's the perfect excuse for him to wrap his arms around you and play your protector as he gathers the little ones up for cuddles too.

🌿 He probably pretends to have some order on Christmas morning, pretends he's going to make the kids wait until after breakfast to open their presents, but really he likes to see them be wild and excited...

🌿 he didn't get so many of these childish gleeful Christmases as a boy and he wants to give you and his children the loveliest Christmas mornings...

🌿 Tommy gives the servants the morning off on Christmas, he makes breakfast and tries his hand at remembering where he came from... Plus he enjoys the two of you getting to spend time together in a domestic way like that, with the kids sitting waiting impatiently for their breakfast.

🌿 he definitely thinks he's being low-key with his gifts, "oh that's just a little something from me angel..." as you unwrap a little box which rattled when you shook it.. and of course it's something beautiful and divine, something you can't believe was crafted on earth and not in heaven...

🌿 Tommy kissing the back of your neck as he scoops your hair up and helps you put the necklace on you...

🌿 he spoils you with so many pretty things, dresses, a silk kimono style dressing gown, glamorous and pretty things, pearls, jewellery but also does like to get you more low-key things, the thing he'd be most looking forward to giving you is an old first edition of your favourite book, your favourite poets latest work, a record, music he's seen you swaying with yourself to as you hum the melody.

🌿 and when you tell him he shouldn't have he just smiles, cups your cheek and leans in, whispers the words over your lips "prettiest girl in the world deserves the prettiest gifts doesn't she?" And with his nose nudging yours you're not about to argue with him. Him lacing his fingers with yours as the children interrupt jumping up onto daddy's knee to show him what father Christmas bought them...

🌿 After Christmas Lunch Tommy suggests a little stroll through the snowy gardens down to the stables where another gift is waiting for you... A beautiful horse which you adore... Her sleek black mane, her calm eyes... Tommy promises that this year he'll take more time away from work and teach you to ride.

🌿 I reckon Tommy's more devoted to the "father Christmas" thing than you'd expect him to be, I feel like he'd think it was really important, that's kids need that kind of magic in their little worlds...

Arthur

🍂 Arthur definitely gets quite flustered around Christmas, he worries that he can't think of the perfect gift, he begs and begs you to just tell him what you want, "really darlin please, don't care it it's expensive or if I have to go fuckin Timbuktu for it it'll be easier than this bloody guessing game!" "Arthur if I knew what I wanted I'd tell you but I don't..." "Please love!* You'd be giggling at his despair as he starts reeling off guesses and you keep telling him they all sound lovely, that he should just get you whatever he thinks of...

🍂 "but y/n what if I get it wrong!" "Arthur Shelby for the last fuckin time you won't get it wrong! You've never been wrong before..."

🍂 and the reason he's never been wrong before is that he really does just buy you everything he can think of that he thinks you might like, and sometimes things he's heard your friends ask their husbands for... he buys so much in the hopes that you'll like at least something...

🍂 But really all you want for Christmas is to be with him, that anything he gets you is perfect to you because it will be a sign from him that he cares about you and that he put thought into your gift.

🍂 he's always a little worried he's going to ruin Christmas in some way, he worries that he'll get too drunk or that he'll end up fighting with one of the reletives it guests... and when he's anxious and stressed out he'll have a drink... so he gets pretty merry on Christmas...

🍂 but most of those things he worries about are irrational worries... Arthur cares so much about the whole family getting together for Christmas because he sees himself as the head of the family, and he because he cares he tries really hard...

🍂 he's everyone's favourite flustered uncle and poor Arthur is unfortunately the kids favourite uncle to fuss around... they find it so funny seeing him a little red in the face going slightly crazy trying to make sure everything's going well... always asking you if you think the days going well, if the kids are happy... "look at em Arth, they're having the best time you dafty..."

🍂 He's so nervous watching you open your presents and you're kind of conscious of that so you're always making sure you're extra grateful and that you smile and say thank you for every single gift, and that you tell him he definitely isn't to buy you so much next year...

🍂 because apart from anything else you'd be self conscious about giving your gifts for him, because there's no way you've bought him as much as he's given you...

🍂 and so many of his gifts are so thoughtful too, there'll be a bottle of wine you'd tried to describe to him when you'd come back from a little weekend away with Ada, you'd been telling him how divine it was and how you'd love to drink it again (you were drunk when you were telling him about this) but you couldn't remember it... Arthur had gone to an unhinged extreme and visited the hotel to find out and then buy you a crate of the stuff...

🍂 You'll be really surprised by the levels of thought Arthur's put into your gift and when you stop beneath the mistletoe to thank him for all your gifts he'd cup your face in his hands and tell you that he wanted to make your Christmas perfect... "Was always gonna be if I got to spend it with you Arth..."

🍂 and then he'd get emotional, Arthur definitely gets a bit misty eyed after all the fuss of Christmas, because it's so important to him to see the whole family together, as a family... It wasn't like that when he was a kid and he's always wanted to give the family the kinds of warm happy Christmases they all wished for as youngens.

🍂 he definitely dresses up as Father Christmas for the little ones and brings in their sack of toys... Lets them clamber all over him and doesn't complain once even when in their excitement they're a little rough...

🍂 exhausts himself and falls asleep on the sofa after lunch, cuddled up with you of course...

Alfie

🐻 grumpy when you wake him up early... "You youngens spare no thought for us old men do ya? Wakin us up at the first sign of light over that godforsaken horizon just because its bloody Christmas Day..." you pouting, telling him you're sorry, trying to be convincing but he sees your smile and mirrors it

🐻 "No you're not..." he chuckled pinching your cheek, pulling you up into his lap and trapping you there, demanding compensation for the inconvenience of being woken up at such an ungodly hour in the form of s good morning kiss...

🐻 "This ain't what jesus woulda wanted darlin... Reckon Jesus yeah much like myself right, was probably quite fond of a little shut eye, yeah I reckon he was you know..."

🐻 but of course its mostly just an exaggerated act he's pulling, and mostly he's only grumbling so much because he loves the sound of your giggling, loves the way your laughter leaves you wriggling in his lap trying to escape him when he starts grumbling again...

🐻 he will force you to lie back down, your head on his chest whilst he gets a little extra sleep. He kisses your forehead and tells you to go back to sleep too... "Got a big day ahead of us my little ziskeit, an I wouldn't want my pretty poppet wearing herself out before she's even had her breakfast right... So me and you yeah, we're gonna lie here just a little bit longer right... And I know you can manage waiting right because I happen to know you're a very good, very patient girl... Ain't you ziskeit?"

🐻 Alfie drags Christmas morning cuddles out for as long as possible and insists that all presents are opening in bed... If you've got little ones they drag their stockings into the bedroom and climb up into bed with mum and dad to open their presents too.

🐻 Alfie would have quite a low-key chilled out Christmas I think, you'd have lots of cute little personal family traditions (like the aforementioned opening presents in bed). He'd want there to be as little fuss as possible and a quiet but cosy Christmas by the fire would suit him best ...

🐻 that being said he always tries so hard to be charming and polite when your parents come over for christmas lunch...

🐻 he can't get down on the floor to play with the children so instead he sits in his arm chair and invites them up to play in his lap, letting them make their toy horses and soldiers climb up his left arm, conquer his right shoulder in battle and then claim victory over all on top of his head.

🐻 has a deadly sweet tooth and eats more dessert than Christmas dinner...

🐻 you mix Christian and Jewish traditions on Christmas day and Alfie spends a lot of time in the kitchen with you on Christmas Eve preparing babka and other treats from his own cultural background to share with the family...

🐻 modern Alfie would absolutely threaten deal or death on anyone who even considered reading a christmas cracker joke to him...

🐻 he spent the run up to Christmas being a big mard arse, threatening you with the naughty list every time you said no to him or didn't do as he'd asked. Whenever you were cheeky or sarcastic with him he'd told you you he wasn't bothering with gifts this year, telling you not to bother getting him anything...

🐻 But of course Alfie would never neglect his little ziskeit and come Christmas morning you're unwrapping the loveliest gifts from him... mostly music... the best gift Alfie has bought for you however can't be unwrapped and certainly can't be given to you in bed... it's waiting downstairs in the lounge... a new piano with the most gorgeous intricate design engraved in the body.

🐻 Alfie is terrible for spoiling the kids far too much too... Every year you end up getting them more and more between the two of you, but that's because for as cynical as Alfie is about the whole Christmas ordeal as he calls it, he does know the joy it brings to children and he does believe wholeheartedly that children should be able to have perfect happy childhoods.

John

🌼 Christmas with John is chaotic from the second the sun rises to long after it has set...

🌼feral children everywhere, and one adult man who isn't much better.... John loves to see the children excited and so he'll do anything to feed the fire, ramping up the excitement at any opportunity...

🌼 definitely a chocolate for breakfast household...

🌼 but before the sun rises, before the kids wake up and start shaking the house down... You're woken up by John, his arms wrapped around you, nuzzling into your hair, kissing your neck from behind you...

🌼 because it might be Christmas but he isn't sacrificing cosy, sleepy morning sex for anything and this his own special way of wishing you a merry Christmas...

🌼 so when the kids come bursting into the bedroom you're already awake, cuddled up with John making the most of the last few moments peace before the big day really starts.

🌼 And once the children are up that it, you're both being dragged down the stair to the living room where the children's stockings are full of treats and toys galore... And John's gifts to you are much the same

🌼 John buys you gifts which bring out your inner child, your favourite sweets, dancing frocks and feather hair bands to match... Chocolates too.

🌼 the best gift of all however arrives in an excited bundle of fluff and fur... A bright eyed puppy John had been keeping hidden in the kitchen, a gift not just for you but all the family... The children are over the moon, all shouting names to call her, and you're overjoyed too.

🌼 There's music on the gramophone and John's been mixing you Christmas cocktails since breakfast time, he dances you around your living room and picks your daughter up to dance with you too. Letting the kids dance with their feet on his feet, playing all sorts of silly Christmas games with them too. John is the life and soul of Christmas and there isn't a second goes by without laughter and general merriment on Christmas when John is around.

🌼 trying to gather the children (including John tbh) up to visit his brother's at Arrow House is a nightmare and you definitely all arrive late to Christmas lunch... Not that anyone was expecting you all to be on time... John and the children put the feral in festive?

🌼 He drives Tommy insane all day and you finally get a little peace and relief sipping gin by the fire with Ada and Polly.

🌼 And John definitely still makes time for you, stealing you away when the children are worn out from playing all day. Everyone's a little sleepy in the afternoon, even the puppy is dozing by the fire. John catches your hand and steals you away to a shadowy corner of the house to steal a Christmas kiss from his very own Christmas miracle.

Bonnie

🍀Going to bed on Christmas Eve, the smell of smoke from the fire, cinnamon and citrus from the little garlands of oranges and holly sprigs that you made and hung up around the vardo... In the morning when you wake there's fresh frost on the window and you can feel the chill in the air...

🍀so you snuggle in closer to Bonnie and he wraps his arms around you a little tighter than before. Youre cuddled up together beneath layers of blankets, listening to the birds outside, the hush of Christmas morning before the children wake up... with your eyes closed you're just enjoying being wrapped up together in the arms of your love...

🍀his scratchy morning voice and lilted accent as he kisses your cheek, nuzzles in closer and says "merry Christmas little dove..." "merry chrismas Bon." You whisper against his neck, your breath tickling him as you press a kiss to his skin.

🍀Christmas day is always busy and a little chaotic at the camp, many families all gather together for a huge celebration, which means brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and old friends all gathered together with a fire and feast... Children running round with their new toys, snowball fights, all the little girls making snow angels and getting little ice crystals in the tangles of their long wild hair.

🍀And one day Bonnie can't wait to watch his own children running around all rosy cheeked on Christmas morning, scoffing chocolates and treats from father Christmas...

🍀but for now it's just you and him wrapped up snug and warm inside, sharing a little peace and tranquility before the chaos of Christmas

🍀Your stockings would be quite small, humble little things, but you'd have filled them with sweet little gifts, many of them handmade, for one another.

🍀You have carved bonnie a gorgeous new knife, it's engraved beautifully with little woodland vines along the handle. He's really pleased with it. And Bonnie has carved you something just as beautiful, a hair slide adorned with dried white flowers... It takes your breath away. Bonnie's gifts would be a mixture of practical and pretty....

🍀And because he has big dreams of wealth and riches Bonnie would have saved all the money from his boxing winnings to buy you something stunning and expensive... Something he definitely shouldn't have bought you! A necklace or a set of earrings made with your birthstone.

🍀 Bonnie would definitely get very broody and sentimental at Christmas, especially after a drink and having spent a lot of the day looking after some of the youngens. You'd be feeling the same too after watching him teach the younger lads to box, watching him dance with your younger sister around the fire and give her piggy backs when she's tired.

🍀And he'll want to dance with you too, there'll he no escaping him and you won't be able to keep the smile off your face when he's swaying you slowly to a softer Christmas song. He'd be singing it softly to you as you danced.

Isaiah

🐀 After a wild Christmas Eve you'd both be very tired and perhaps a little hungover... So you'd wake up tangled between the sheets together, sore heads and sleepy eyes... And that's where you'd stay for as long as possible.

🐀 you wouldn't have any Christmas commitments until it was time for Christmas dinner with Isaiah's father so you would drag the morning out in bed with a cup of tea, both of you feeling lazy...

🐀 When you finally wander downstairs you'd both be wearing Isaiah's pyjamas, him wearing the bottoms and you wearing the top. You'd sit together under a blanket to exchange gifts by the tree...

🐀 Deciding to cure your hangovers with another drink

🐀 luckily for you Isaiah has gifted you a cocktail shaker and set so you can mix up a cure for your Christmas morning hangover.

🐀 he's also bought you some truly gorgeous lingerie, red and lacy and he can't wait to see you in it later...

🐀 It would be quite a relaxed Christmas, you'd probably just about manage to be on time to Christmas Lunch, just about manage to look presentable and hide your hangovers from your parents.

🐀 Cheeky kisses under the mistletoe at every opportunity, you having to remind Isaiah to behave himself in front of your parents... He gets amusingly shy about having to wear a party hat on his head and take his turn in charades... He's actually blushing!!

🐀 You'd end up reengerised by the evening and you'd be back down the garrison come the night to meet with Finn and some of the other Peaky lads, music turned up loud, dancing and getting up to no good. Isaiah knows him and Finn will get a bollocking from Tommy when he comes back to the city but he doesn't care, anything to impress his girl.

Michael

☘️ With Michael Christmas morning is luxurious, it's slow and relaxing but it isn't low-key by any stretch of the imagination...

☘️ Tea and breakfast brought up to your room by the house keeper. The two of you eat breakfast in bed, sharing a peaceful good morning cuddle beneath fresh white sheets...

☘️ You go downstairs wrapped in your silk house coat and you exchange gifts beneath the tree, the fire burning in the place, the peaceful crackling of smouldering wood a tranquil soundtrack to your morning.

☘️ Michael has spoiled you, he's bought you a dress which is truly divine, a beautiful shade of jade green, you know he wants you to wear it today... He wants to show off his riches and also his girl... It's probably an attempt at making Tommy jealous... And you're determined to aid your man in whatever he desires so you make a note to do your make up perfectly, a little extra smoulder to your eyes shadow, a little extra rouge on your lips...

☘️ He's also tries to spoil you with the most modern, trend setting gifts... A state of the art gramophone, a home video camera which you're excited to use later to record the Shelby family Christmas.

☘️ Then you and Michael take a hot, steamy bath together, relaxing in eachothers arms, washing one anothers hair, closing your eyes and enjoying the peace, making the most of it before you have to visit the rest of the family at Arrow House...

☘️ Michaels a little begrudging about having to spend the day in Tommy's shadow so you do your best on Christmas morning to stroke his ego and give him the self esteem boost he needs to face his older cousin...

☘️ He's also paid for a trip to New York, he's been many time on business but he wants to take you with him and spoil you, show you Broadway and the skyscrapers which have stolen his heart.

☘️ Aunt Polly meets you at the door to arrow house and takes you under her wing, introducing you to everyone else and stealing you away with the women to drink whiskeys in the kitchen whilst the men play with the little ones who are running riot in the snow covered garden.

☘️ Michael has to rescue you from them because he catches them giving you the third degree, trying to work out if he's going to propose, trying to work out if you're pregnant.

☘️ if he was planning on proposing I think Michael is most likely to propose at Christmas.

Luca

🪽 Christmas starts at midnight when you're attending mass together, recieving communion, you resting your head on his shoulder as your lips move sleepily to the melody of another hymn.

🪽 Luca is never particularly impressed by mass in England, he always scowls and shakes his head, give you an earful on the way home about how the English are all uncultured heathens...

🪽 you just shake your head and smile, stroke his cheek as he's driving, place a cigarette between his lips and light it for him, you plant a kiss to his cheek to calm him and he settles down, remembering that it's Christmas... a happy day, a day of peace...

🪽 Luca has always found Christmas time to make him a little more romantic than usual and when he pulls up the car in the driveway he lifts you out of the car like a bride and carries you over the threshold as if it were the very first time. Smothers you in kisses as you make your way up to bed.

🪽In the morning when you wake it is to his low husky singing, an old hymn from his homeland which sounds all the more lovely for his lethargic tone. He strokes your hair from your face and brushes a kiss over your lips wishing his darling a merry christmas...

🪽 He lights your cigarette for you and you lie back against your plush set of pillows feeling like a princess, and you look radiant with the Christmas morning light streaming through the windows.

🪽 Luca can't resist you in the mornings and finds it impossible to keep his hands off you, slipping beneath the covers to wish you a merry Christmas in his own special way.

🪽 When the children wake they're full of excitement, bubbling over with Christmas spirit as they drag you and their Papà from your bed to go downstairs and open their gifts...

🪽 Now of course the children have been spoiled rotten as always, new toys and enough sweets to rot their teeth in under ten seconds... But you... You're Luca's Angelo, every gift he's given you is addressed to "cuore mio" (my heart) and every present is more beautiful than the last.

🪽 he spoils you with classy gifts, a string of pearls, a new gramophone and a collection of your most treasured records...

🪽 but his main gift to you plays towards Luca's dramatic tendencies, his need to show off and shower you in all the adoration his wallet can give... In the driveway with a red ribbon tied around the body is a flash sports car just for you.

🪽 "But... I can't... Drive..." "Not yet cuore mio, but don't worry, you'll have the best teacher..."

🪽 tickets to the opera and the most gorgeous black velvet dress for you to wear when he takes you into the city for an evening of luxury and music.

🪽 Luca dotes on you throughout the whole of the festive period, he dotes on you normally but in December and early January he really layers it on thick, all day Luca makes sure your every need is attended to... He is always the one to top up your wine glass, always planting little kisses to your hands and fingers, using any excuse to touch you...

🪽 Helps you get ready in your finery to greet your guests before dinner, Luca combs your hair and helps you into your dress, fastens the clasp of your necklace and can't resist peppering your neck in teasing kisses...

🪽 He doesn't mind playing host to his huge family, it's an excuse to show off after all, but he tires of social interaction quickly and you can see him growing impatient as the day draws on, you stop to massage his shoulders beneath the mistletoe and then you let your kiss linger on his lips, "not long now tesoro," you remind him, "then it'll be just me and you and the children, you'll have us all to yourself..." "Trust me cuore mio that moment can't come soon enough..."

🪽 When you try to pull away and return to the dining room Luca drags you back for one last kiss and really makes the most of the little moment of peace he gets to have with you.

Aberama

🥀 There was a time when Christmas was a particularly lonely time for Aberama, a time when he remembered all that he lost when he lost Bonnie's mother.. he used to find the winter season to be a harsh, cold, long and lonely winter...

🥀 but with you in his life things are finally beginning to thaw out, he has hope again for the first time in a long time. Your sweetness makes him feel warm despite the winter frost on the ground...

🥀 So now Christmas is a time when Aberama finds himself feeling grateful, more than anything else. He finds himself reflecting on his life and how much his family means to him, finds himself reflecting on you and all the joy and peace you've brought to his conflicted world.

🥀 His favourite part of winter is going on long walks through the frosty countryside with you tucked up in one of his big coats, seeing your little head poking out of a scarf he's wrapped tight around your neck to keep the chill at bay, your little rosy cheeks, is one of the prettiest sights he's blessed with amid the grey of December...

🥀 On Christmas morning he wakes up before you to prepare the fire and to start brewing tea and preparing breakfast... You're a little younger than him and he has a tendency to dote on you at the best of times, but on Christmas morning in particular you look so adorable, so at peace tucked away beneath the blankets that he can't bare to disturb you...

🥀 so you awake to a slight breeze tickling your cheeks, the sound of fire crackling, the hiss of the kettle coming to boil... And when you join Aberama by the fire you're still hazy with sleep. He opens his arms to welcome you into his embrace and lets you sit between his legs on the floor as he carries on attending to the fire.

🥀 As the camp slowly comes to life and everything gets busier he keeps you tucked away nice and close to him... With his own children grown up there's a little less chaos around his vardo and so you are both able to watch the festivities from a slight distance... You know it won't be long before you're swept up in it all however, you know it won't belong before one of the little ones comes running to show you their new toys...

🥀 and so you make the most of the peace whilst the children are distracted by their stockings to exchange your own gifts by the fire...

🥀Aberama is a practical and sentimental gift giver, he gives you a huge cosy woolen jumper, one to keep you snug and wrapped up in the cold months ahead, new boots for riding and accompanying him on those long rambles through the woodlands, he's also bought you a new pony, shes gorgeous and your heart swells with pride at the knowledge he'd have needed to pull a mean trick to get you a creature so beautiful, the thought you're worth that much to him almost brings you to tears.

🥀 Definitely takes a lot of pride in preparing the perfect Christmas feast and he keeps himself plenty busy in the morning with some of the other men and women preparing a fine spread for everyone to share... Definitely saves you the best carving of meat and the best looking potatoes.

🥀 Honestly despite the fact his children have grown and that even his youngest is an adult now, I thinn Christmas time makes Aberama a little broody, a little nostalgic for the days when his own little ones were running riot playing with their new toys... You might find he starts talking a little sentimentally when he's had too much wine, that when he's dancing with you by the fire in the evening he pulls you a little closer than usual...

Merry Christmas to all of my lovely lovely followers I hope you've had a lovely day <3

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Krampus nsfw please?

😬😬😬 Ask and ye shall receive

Gruss vom Krampus — Krampus x F Reader, NSFW, Dubcon

The smell of cinders was choking. You could see through the window, from the steel cage of the demon’s arms, the glow of a Christmas tree in the apartment building across the lot, twinkling gaily, red and green and gold. There were no holiday decorations in your own flat, no tree or mistletoe, no beribboned angels or shining stars.

You had been a very bad girl.

That was what it told you, after you’d opened the door, thinking the knock harkened the arrival of someone else, someone more familiar…in hindsight, you should have known better. It had been a heavy, thudding hammer, accompanied by the slight drag of chains and the dull tinkle of toneless bells, but you’d opened the door anyhow.

You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up, you thought as tears filled your eyes, clawed hands tightening around your arms. You didn’t know how you’d ever again be able to stomach the smell of a fire cracking in the grate on a cold winter’s night, provided you lived to see another night, of course. Grey soot had settled into the crevasses of your brain, into the gaps and holes where your decency was lacking, until you were enveloped in soot and ash and cinders. 

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I love that I can almost feeeel the festivities of Christmas through this ..... finding the one you always wanted and needed and discovering love 😍 almost like getting a present ,a reward for Tae tae and Angel as well .. (Though they both acted their fare share to make sure they're acting like they're the shareholders of the naughty list agenda 😏😉 but I'm NOT complaining cause those mirrors in the fic have got me 😈 ) Loved this story cause it's epitome of unproblematic love life - they want it ,they got 😉 it and I have mentioned before that angst stretched too long ruins the mood (unless you're going for it ) but ofcourse @ladyartemesia knowws how to use fluff to hook us up to only get ... more fluff ?! That's like being hit with a rainbow laser gun (chaotic good 😎😍😘) Thank yoouuuuu for this fic , I am ready to ask for your hand in a (platonic , virtual) courtship ❤️💜 borahe ! 💐💐

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would *never* want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist.

Genre (Tropes): Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted… Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though… I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was… uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events…”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart… it isn’t you we don’t trust…”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

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Listen you guys ... I don't even celebrate Christmas but the description of festivities had me there like it's my own personal experience ❤️💜😭🙌 👁️👄👁️ I want to talk a lot about art Namjoon , emotionally overwhelmed reader, how we can actually see Joonie looking at reader like she hung up all the stars when she isn't aware and how I would pay for actually reading Koya's Christmas irl 💙💜 but all I can say is namjoooooooon afkkfkvsklssklyrbl (very wise words indeed )! @lemonjoonah please don't play with my heart ❤️ just take it 🙌❤️💜 !

Wrapped Together (M)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Word Count: 18K Rating: M Genre: Christmas AU, Romance, Drama  Warnings: Protected sex, oral (m. rec.), referenced illness/death of parent, swearing, classism. Summary: Despite your best efforts to keep your head down, to self-preserve and endure what will no doubt be the worst Christmas of your life, you are still roped into volunteering for the hospital’s annual gift wrap fundraiser. The enticing factor that lured you out? The promise of a new shift partner, Kim Namjoon. Though your first day together starts off with a slight miscalculation of his skills for wrapping, he soon becomes your essential ally in the fight to get through this lonely holiday season.

| Secret Santa Collab | My Masterlist |

A/N: A big thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for asking me to join her Secret Santa Christmas Collab, this was my first collab ever and I absolutely loved it. And of course to my beta readers @m00nchild-shi​ and @ladyartemesia​ thank you for helping me gain the courage to post this. I hope that this fic is able to bring a bit of comfort to those celebrating the holidays a little differently this year, so please enjoy!

…

-5 Weeks Until Christmas-

Amidst the chatter of the office, a dull rumble reaches your ears and vibrates the desk beneath your fingers, waking you from the repetitive haze of your hundredth call report. The moment of confusion switches to frantic action when your brain finally catches on and recognizes it as your own personal phone. Scurrying through your purse, you nab it just in time, but after checking the caller ID you desperately wish you hadn’t. 

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My Writes

Adult / Mature Content. 🔞

Please note that all my works have named OCs. I do not write 'Y/N' or 'x Reader' fics (just a personal writing preference).

Click on below links for more info about each work (all posted on AO3).

Peonies in the Abyss. - WIP. Series. Spy / Secret Agent AU. Explicit smut and violence.

Red, Green, and Gold. - Completed. Holiday / Christmas fic. Explicit smut.

2! 3! 4?: Completed. PWP / Threesome drabble. Roommates AU. Explicit smut.

When We Were... Us. - Completed. Series. Arranged Marriage AU. Explicit smut.

All Rights Reserved.

December = Red, Green, and Gold time...

My Writes

Adult / Mature Content. 🔞

Please note that all my works have named OCs. I do not write 'Y/N' or 'x Reader' fics (just a personal writing preference).

Click on below links for more info about each work.

Peonies in the Abyss. - WIP. Series. Spy / Secret Agent AU. Explicit smut and violence.

Red, Green, and Gold. - Completed. Holiday / Christmas fic. Explicit smut. On AO3 and Wattpad.

2! 3! 4?: Completed. PWP / Threesome drabble. Roommates AU. Explicit smut.

When We Were... Us. - Completed. Series. Arranged Marriage AU. Explicit smut.

All Rights Reserved.