#Christmas angst

[littlebabyyd0ll]

12. christmas shopping, daddy!steve rogers

— while doing some last minute shopping in new york, little!reader finds herself crumbling down. her daddy is the only solution to the problem.

— daddy!steve rogers x little!reader (feat. bucky)

— angst! dd/lg tones. reader cries a lot. panic attack? much comfort, mentions of reader being able to push their hair back and the cold turning their skin red. hyperfem!reader? bucky being an angel <3

— word count: 2000+

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A heavy crinkle and a solid rip become louder than the crowd around you, arm pulled back by the force of someone barging into you in the massive crowd. A small gasp left your lips as your body turned slightly, knocking into Steve, who was right behind you. His hand lay tight on your shoulder, ensuring you don't get lost in the sea of bobbing heads and frantic shoppers. The shove doesn't phase him, completely moving when your weight falls against him. Its not that he doesn't notice, but his head is somewhere else entirely. What with Christmas approaching, it doesn't become difficult for Steve to get distracted. He loves the holidays, always has, but ever since coming out of the ice, his mind has become clouded with frosty memories of the freezing cold.

"S-sorry," you call out, even though whoever ripped your bag most definitely shoved you, not the other way around. Your head drops downwards, hairs framing your face as you study the damage to your bag. Thankfully, all of its contents were still in place, the hole covered from the inside by a thick cable cardigan that you'd purchased for a certain Sokovian redhead.

"You okay, baby?" It's almost as though you can feel the blood rushing through your head, ears becoming tinted in the cold air and at the sudden flush of being bumped into. Steve's voice is hard to hear over the hustle and bustle of New York City. Though familiar, it seems to float in the wind, as though falling further and further away from you.

"Yeah," you murmur sheepishly with a miniscule nod, not wanting to cause any form of upset. You hate the thought of Steve being distressed, and knowing what the holiday season did to him, it seemed a far better option to keep the peace.

His large hand rubs over your pink coat, a silent notion to show that he heard you. It doesn't take much for you to be in need of Steve's physical touch - he can't even count the amount of times that you'd come bundling towards him when he walks through the door, you sweet little 'Daddy!' floating through the air as he lifts you into his arms. All the nights that you refuse to untangle yourself from his arm, all four of your limbs wrapped around one of his. Even in your sleep, you refuse to leave his side. Even when he plaits your hair so gently, you can't help but turn you head and plant a soft kiss against his knuckles. His sweet little girl - always so gentle and needy. He wouldn't change it for the world, which is why when your little mitten covered fingers find his gloveless ones, he can't help but feel a little brighter.

But he can hear it. You might not be able to, what with your lacking in super solider abilities and with the masses around you, but now that he's more aware of what's going on around him, Steve picks it u almost instantly. Your heart is beating quicker. Sure, there's the way that your heart always beats around him; slightly quicker, missing a beat or two in the depths of your excitement. But this is different. Panicked, shakier.

With furrowed brows and shuffled steps, Steve leans down closer to you, bending to try and match your much shorter height. "Do you wanna leave, Bunny? We can go any time you want to."

Still, you shook your head no. "I'm okay, Daddy." The words are quiet and small, causing the captain's concerns to grow. Sometimes you got sheepish in public, and that's okay. But you barely ever call him by his title in front of the other Avengers, let alone in public. reluctantly, he stands back up straight, giving your gloved hand a gentle squeeze. You shiver slightly in the cold, little nose tinted by the snowy air.

For a while, things do seem okay. You mutter quietly as you look around shops, stand by idly as fas ask to take pictures with the one and only Captain America, insist that its your fault when someone stands on your foot. But it all comes crashing down as you step out of a fancy shop.

You're happily murmuring, pleased with the gift that you'd just managed to score for Sam, when someone's form collides right with yours. You slip, falling down the last step and into the icy streets below with a gasp.

"Watch where you're walking, asshole!" the passerby shouts, completely ignorant to the distress that they had caused. They go on their merry way, bumping against more members of the public and spewing out profanities.

But the damage is done. You're already crying by the time that you rise on your wobbly knees, trembling like a leaf and calling out for Steve. He's behind you in an instant, picking up the fallen shopping bags from the floor and thanking those who quickly help. And then he's up, looking down into your shimmery eyes as you whine for him. Rushing forward and burying yourself in his chest, you cry out, "h-hurts, daddy!"

It's a blur, really, how he gets you back to the compound so quickly. Even with you quivering in his arms, Steve works fast and with agility you could only ever wish to possess. He even brushes past Bucky, who had opened up his arms in invitation for you - as he did most days when you returned from being out far too long. The look on his face is twisted, hurt by the lack of notice. But then, as he turns to watch Steve's back retreat into your shared room, it all makes sense. Your little face, flushed and stained with tears looks cold and frightened, eyes glimmering against the warm lights of the Christmas tree, stacked with neatly wrapped gifts underneath. His heart almost breaks at the sight of you, hair dishevelled and lip wobbling, clambering onto Steve with another whine, gloved hands shaking in the fabric of his coat. A sob slips from your throat, and Bucky watches Steve try his best to soothe you all the while walking, bouncing you gently. The shopping bags crash rom Steves hands the second you both pass the threshold. And then, the door shuts.

He tries hard to put you down onto the bed, but you just can't let yourself leave his hold. More cries escape your lips, followed by little 'n-no!'s, hiccuped and rushed. You hold onto him tighter than you ever have before. Steve adores feeling needed as much as you make him feel needed, but his heart aches at the presence of your distress.

"C'mon, baby." He tries hard to coax you, warm hand running up and down your back. "Daddy just wants to help you. Let Daddy help you, Angel." Your tears have soaked into the fabric of his blue sweater. "Don't cry, sweet girl. please don't cry." He speaks again, having given up trying to put you down onto the cotton sheets. "We're gonna make it better, it's gonna be okay, you're okay." He holds you into him, all the while subtly shuffling you coat out of your shaking arms and down to the floor. As your face digs down into his shoulders he makes quick work of your shower, slipping them off effortlessly. "There we go, good girl. Good girl for letting Daddy take care of you, huh? You're so brave, baby, doing such a good job for me."

You twitch at the sound of his praise. His gentle voice aids you out of his shoulder. Steve pushes your hair back, past your ear before his palm lowers slightly, resting upon your tear soaked cheek. The sandy haired man rubs his thumb upon the surface of your skin, looking down at his whole world, all bundled in his arms and seeking comfort from him, only him. Your lip wobbles, "d-doin' good for you?" If possible, his heart breaks all over again at the shake in your voice.

Steve nods wholeheartedly, eyes soft and loving. "The best job, honey. Daddy's so proud of you." Subconsciously, your little head nods, reciprocating his actions without realising. Steve can't help but smile. His skin is tender against yours, tracing the fine lines of your face with his thumb. His ocean blue eyes shift in real time, taking in every ounce of your slowly calming form. You still tremble slightly and your hands are still covered by the white mittens that you put on hers ago, but your tears have began to stop. Sobs haven't escaped your lips for a solid minute, and you've taken to soothing yourself with his thumb. ever so slowly it had crept towards your wobbling lips, and there it settled peacefully. The tiny suckles feel familiar against Steve's calloused thumb, always on offer when the world overwhelms you a little too much. Even as your rapid heartbeat slows, Steve still shushes you gently, pressing delicate kisses onto your cool forehead. Back and forth he sways you both slightly, consoling you in any way possible.

It takes a mountain of effort, but eventually you daddy gets you out of your snow ridden clothes. he laid you down onto the mattress, underwear covered form shivering in the cold, insisting that you hold tightly on to your stuffed bunny. You bring the bunny to your face, burying your nose in the familiar scent of his fur as Steve pulls the pyjama bottoms up your legs. When the matching op comes over your chest, you're already whining to be back in his arms with grabby hands. The sandy haired man cooes, effortlessly picking you back up into his arms where he holds you for what he wishes to be eternity. This time, it's your own thumb that slots between your lips, fist still clenching down on the stuffed animal.

Three steady knocks wrack against your bedroom door. With a small whine you try to bury yourself further into Steve's skin. His hand rubs against your back as he calls out, asking who is on the other side of the door.

To both of your relief, a familiar raven haired man's voice filters through the gaps of the door. "It's Bucky. Can I come in?"

Steve takes a moment, looking down at you. Your tired eyes stare up at him, still sucking at your thumb. "What do you think, baby? Can Bucky come in?" His voice is still so soft with you, knowing full well how deep into the little mindset you are. Steve wants this to be your choice - you're so soft and sweet and vulnerable, he'd hate to be the one to take the settling calm away from you.

Slowly, but surely, you nod your head.

With Steve's verbal permission, Bucky pushes past the doorway. He looks a little disheartened, grey eyes instantly falling on your vulnerable form, all snuggled into your daddy's chest, You look ten times more relaxed than when you first entered the complex in Steve's arms, but he can't mistake the dried tears on your cheeks or the red in your eyes, the way your lashes have clumped together with the wetness. An unconscious pout makes its way to his lips, eyes moving to Steve in silent questioning; 'is she okay?'. The blond gives a subtle nod, his chin resting against the crown of your head as he sways you both.

"Hi, pumpkin. You doin' okay?" You don't say anything, only tiredly blinking and giving a small nod. You're not the best, but things are slowly getting better. "Yeah? Bet you're tired, huh? You've had a long day." He doesn't know exactly what happened, but your tiny nod tells him all that he could possibly need to know. In moments like this he couldn't be more thankful for your close friendship, that he gets to see you like this, gets to watch the way you interact with your one true love. He years for it himself. The way your cheek presses into Steve's shoulder, your legs wrapped around him as tight as possible, your stuffed bunny tucked in close. One day, he'll have something like that for himself.

But for now he settles on spoiling his favourite little girl.

"Made you this." Bucky offers a smile as he presents the mug settled into his vibrainum hand. A little gingerbread house mug, filled to the brim with hot chocolate and pink marshmallows. A Bucky specialty, nobody makes a hot chocolate like he does. It piques your interest, Head rising softly from Steve's shoulder. "Thought it might help calm you down a little. Gave you extra mashmallows." He passes the mug towards Steve, who takes it with a small, appreciative nod. "You call me if you need anything, okay?"

Finally, after what feels like hours, you crack a tiny smile. "Thank you, Buck.' The words are lisped, tainted by the presence of your thumb.

Steve's smile grows at the unprompted thank you. His good, sweet girl. So polite, so sweet.

The raven haired man beams brighter than ever before. "Any day, sweetheart."

#<3 steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers × little!reader #daddy!Steve #steve rogers x reader #little!reader #fluff #angst #abby's advent: Steve Rogers #abby's advent #daddy!steve rogers #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x y/n #Christmas fluff #Christmas angst

[hairmetal666]

Bing Crosby's voice warbles from a portable stereo propped up near the sink, singing about a white Christmas; red-ribboned garland lines the windows and door frame; small wreathes bedeck the cabinet doors; and Steve Harrington stands at the kitchen island.

He turns when he hears the slip of Eddie's socks on the tile, grin already blossoming across his face, and they're hugging before he really processes it happening. Steve mumbles, "it's good to see you, Ed," in his ear.

The hug is too tight and too long for what they are to each other now.

They break apart, Steve immediately turning back to the baked sugar cookies spread out on the island.

"Wanna help?" He asks.

Eddie sticks his hands in his back pocket, walks to stand next to his ex, his best friend, his--everything in the world that matters. "What are we making, Stevie?"

"Frosting sugar cookies. Think you can handle it?" He wiggles a pipping bag in Eddie's face.

"No way," Eddie says.

"Yeah, c'mon, you're a good artist."

"With like, pencils and shit. Not icing."

"You'll do great."

"You sure about that? Remember when--"

Steve snorts. "Oh, you mean the last time you tried to bake, and I had to mop chocolate batter off my ceiling? And I found dried splatters of it for months? Yeah. I remember."

Eddie hides his laugh in a cough. "Sorry?"

He wanted to bake a cake for Steve's birthday, back when they were together, made a mess instead. Steve had just laughed and kissed him, started cleaning.

Their relationship started out hot and heavy in the months after Vecna. They got caught up in it, threw themselves headfirst into the kind of love that sucks you under, turns you inside out, leaves you with nothing. It ended, like it was always going to, when Eddie couldn't get out from under the shadow of his own self-loathing. Terrified he was fucking everything up, he packed his bags and left in the dead of night.

They're older now, though. More settled. The trauma softened by time.

"Coffee?" Steve asks.

"Please."

Steve gets it brewing, pours a couple mugs, adds the cream and sugar just like Eddie likes. Of course.

They ice cookies--and okay, Eddie's not so bad at it--and they chat and it's good. Nice. Two old friends catching up.

"Hey," Steve says.

Eddie looks over, would never not when it's Steve asking. The man in questions smiles at him, big and guileless, which is all the warning Eddie needs. He doesn't quite manage to duck in time, and Steve swipes frosting covered fingers across his face. He makes a pained noise, an injured little squeak, that has Steve in hysterics.

"Steve!" He shrieks.

The culprit is doubled-over, clinging to the countertop to stay on his feet, shaking with laughter.

"You--you," Steve half-sobs. "The look on your face!"

Eddie grabs a mostly fully piping bag. "You're gonna get it, Harrington."

"No--no," Steve darts sideways. "This sweater is dry clean only!"

"Should have thought of that." Eddie manages to smear frosting across Steve's wrist. "No one actually uses the dry cleaner, anyway."

They tussle around the island, giggling and shouting. He finally manages to catch Steve, drawing lines of icing over his face to the sounds of spasming giggles.

"Okay, okay," Steve says. His chest visibly heaves from exertion. "We should clean up."

Eddie shrugs. "You brought it on yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. Here." Steve hands him a wet towel and they spend the next few minutes smearing frosting off their faces.

He tosses his red and green smeared towel into the sink. "Happy with yourself?"

"Uh-huh, yeah--Oh, you've got a little--" Steve points towards Eddie's chin.

"Here?" Eddie wipes haphazardly at his face.

"No, it's--Can I?"

Eddie nods and then Steve is pressing his index finger to the corner of Eddie's bottom lip, gently swiping. Their eyes lock and there's nothing else in the room.

"Got it," Steve whispers. He doesn't pull his finger away.

"Thank you." Eddie's not sure anything but air comes out.

Steve's eyes dip down, fixing on Eddie's mouth and the spot his own fingers rest.

Eddie thinks he might die.

On the other side of the house, there's the sound of a door closing, the thud of approaching feet.

Steve pushes away, grabs a cookie and a piping bag.

Eddie has a few seconds to settle himself, figure out how to breathe. He's barely calm when Mark's deep voice rumbles through the kitchen, "Hey, babe. How's the baking?"

"Good," Steve says. "Work okay?"

He can't be rude, has toacknowledge that Mark is here, in the room, co-owner of the house.

"The usual." Steve and Mark smile at each other, soft and intimate.

When they kiss, Eddie drops his eyes.

"Eddie! Good to see you, my man!" Mark says, wrapping him in a loose hug.

Eddie pats his back, says, "Been awhile."

"Yeah, you should come around more often. Know Steve here would love to see you. Guess LA is keeping you busy."

"Guess so," Eddie agrees.

He's desperate to get out of here, dying for a break, to blot their easy intimacy out of his brain. "I--uh, think I need a cigarette break. I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't take too long," Steve says. He doesn't look away from Mark, so Eddie doesn't bother answering.

He steps out the back, cigarette and Bic already in his hands, lights it before the door is back in the frame.

--

Hours later, he slips out to the front porch, this time for a second to breathe. Even outside, he can hear Mike and Dustin yelling, the girls chiming in, Joyce and Hopper and Wayne laughing, "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree" blasting.

He walks to the side of the house, steps stuttering in the snow when he sees the glowing ember of a lit cigarette.

"Eddie?" Steve asks. "Need a smoke?"

"Nope, just wanted to clear my head." His heart thuds loud enough he's sure Steve can hear.

There's a beat, only a second or two, before the cigarette falls to the snow with a soft sizzle and Steve's hands are bunched in his shirt.

The kiss is hot, hard, desperate. His fingers dig into Steve's hair, pulling tight.

"Baby, baby," Steve murmurs, their mouths not even parted. "I missed you so much."

Eddie whimpers, clings tighter. "I know, sweetheart. I know, but we promised--"

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I just--"

"Stevie." His thumbs caress the planes of Steve's face. "I can't do this anymore. We said--"

"I know, I know. But I can't stop thinking about you. It's all the time. I miss you so bad that it hurts. Right here in my chest. And fuck--I lo--"

"You don't," Eddie says. Vision obscured with tears.

"I do," Steve's fingers grip around him tighter. "I always have. I never stopped. I thought you--I thought--"

"Steve?" Robin's voice calls into the night.

They let their hands drop away from each other, step apart so they're no longer entwined.

"Be right there, Rob," Steve says.

Eddie lights another cigarette. "You should go in," he says.

"Yeah." Steve nods, won't look in Eddie's direction. "Merry Christmas," he says, walks back toward the house.

He thunks his head against the red-brick of the house, staring up at the gleaming white lights lining the edge of the roof, finally letting the tears fall.

"Merry-fucking-Christmas," he echoes.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #no happy ending #christmas #mutual pining #lovers to best friends #flirting #christmas angst #i guess my brand is sad christmas fics i don't know why i'm like this #cheating #affair #past breakup #heartbreak #there is cookie frosting fluff though that should count for something

[janis-takes-requests]

Janis' Angst Corner

🎄 Christmas Edition 🎄

+ Janus and Remus get left out of Christmas every year. They both claim that they don't care and in fact hate the holiday. But truthfully, they both are extremely hurt by it. So they opt to spend the day together and get each other presents.

+ Patton wants to include Janus and Remus, at the very least in their secret Santa that they do every year. But Virgil and Roman hate the other two so much that he would feel too guilty, like he ruined their Christmas.

+ Logan gets sick of the constant Christmas music and hates how expensive and stressful the season is. He would rather just skip the holiday all together. Oftentimes he'll sneak off after presents to spend time with Janus and Remus since they don't really celebrate the holiday.

#demus #dukeceit #sanders sides angst #janus sanders angst #janus angst #remus angst #remus sanders angst #patton sanders #patton angst #logan sanders #logan sanders angst #angst #angst ideas #tss angst #christmas angst #sad boi hours

[fuctacles]

The holiday season is settling over the broken houses and communities that make up Hawkins. The snow is sparse and the decorations almost non-existent. George Michael though, is very hearable.

Especially if you work in a music store, its speakers playing holiday hits throughout your whole shift. They hear Wham!’s newest single more and more frequently as the days pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, Last Christmas is a banger, now get back to work, you’ll hear it again in fifteen minutes.” Robin rolls her eyes and pushes Steve forward so he moves from where he suddenly froze, blocking her path to stare at the speaker in the corner.

“It’s a good song.” He shrugs, finally moving. “I just had a thought, you know…” He clears his throat, adds a wet chuckle that doesn’t cover his emotions at all. “Eddie would hate it.”

#steddie #mine #steddie angst #christmas angst #cw aknowledging eddies death #eddie munson #christmas steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #steddie microfic #microfic

[marauders-pads]

It had been 1 month, 24 days, 5 hours and 46 minutes since Lily and James Potter had died. 1 month, 20 days, 9 hours and 54 minutes since Sirius Black was found guilty of murdering Peter Pettigrew and 1 month, 21 days, 12 hours and 12 minutes since Peter Pettigrew was killed by Sirius black.

Not that anyone was counting.

Well, no one important anyway. At least that’s what Remus Lupin thought as he sat next to the bare Christmas tree that he didn’t have the energy to decorate this year.

Remus had seen first hand what You-Know-Who could do. He had lost many friends to him over the years, including his closest friends; James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and his ex-boyfriend Sirius Black.

Sirius had promised him everything yet he was the reason that Remus wasn’t sat with a group of friends celebrating Christmas and exchanging gifts. Sirius was the reason there was a hole in Remus’s heart.

The grandfather clock chimed twelve as Remus got a bottle of alcohol from the kitchen cabinet and sat down with it in hand before drinking straight from the bottle, hoping that he’ll eventually wake up and find that this was all just a terrible dream.

#marauders #wolfstar #i’m gonna go cry now #remus lupin #christmas angst

[orangesunsets12]

Steve Harrington, who, despite the rich parents that he had, never unwrapped a Christmas gift, and didn't have any gifts waiting for him under the tree on Christmas day. Steve thought, was told, that only those deserving of gifts actually received them, and that believed that he would never deserve any. He wasn't good enough, was he? He didn't deserve any sort of gift, he didn't deserve to take part in this holiday that everyone loved so much. Why else wouldn't he get a gift? Why else would he be the only kid not coming to school with a brand new toy? Who wasn't buzzing with excitement over the candy and gifts, even days after?

But he tried. He tried so, so hard to deserve a gift, even a small one. He tried to get good grades, to be the perfect son his parents wanted so desperately, even sent letters to Santa in his messy handwriting, every year without fail, hoping that that jolly man actually cared.

Yet, every year, he was met with the same sight. A bare Christmas Tree, with no perfectly wrapped gifts under it. No stocking by the fireplace. Not even a smile from his parents.

As time went on, all of his efforts to be better failing, no matter how hard he tried, Steve decides that he could never deserve something like a Christmas gift. He would never be good enough. So, he stopped trying. He let his grades slip, he put on a mask of popularity and pride, he stopped writing letters to Santa, who he was now convinced was completely made up (or, just another person who didn't think that he was good enough, he wasn't sure which one he preferred) and stopped trying to impress his parents.

But, if he didn't deserve any gift, it didn't mean that no one else did.

It was after the second time the Upside Down had threatened to kill everyone, and the Party, as Dustin called it, were going to celebrate Christmas early, together as a group. The way Steve understood it was that there would be gifts for those who deserved it, food, a Christmas tree, and Christmas movies galore. It sounded nice, but Steve knew that he had a lot of work to do.

Everyone in their group deserved gifts, Steve was sure of it. They had fought literal monsters, went though countless struggles, yet stayed strong though it all....they deserved all of the gifts that he could give them. So, he went on a shopping spree, vaguely wondering if he deserved a gift this year. He shook the thought away. He never deserved one, this year would be no different.

When the day came, everyone was overjoyed to receive the gifts from him, even Hopper ruffling Steve's hair with a "thanks, kid", and Steve couldn't stop smiling, glad that he made them happy. They deserved it. They deserved the gifts that he got them.

The music in the room was full of joy, and the gift giving slowly came to a close, leaving one present under the tree. Steve frowned as he noticed it, hadn't everyone who deserved a gift gotten one? He did a quick scan of the room and found that everyone had a gift in their hands. Everyone but him.

Tears burned in his eyes as Dustin passed him the gift from under the tree, smiling eagerly as Steve took it, shaking slightly.

"It's for you, Steve! We all got one for you!"

Steve studied the gift in his hand, perfectly wrapped with a bow on top, holding something heavy inside that made his breath hitch in his throat.

No. No, this wasn't right. Something wasn't right. None of this was right.

"I...I don't deserve this." He whispered, and the whole room fell silent.

Part 2

Link on A03

#should i make a part 2? #christmas fic #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfic author #stranger things fanfic #stranger things christmas #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #dustin henderson #steve and dustin #stranger things #ao3 #holiday gifts #steve harrington needs a hug #christmas angst

[drarrywords]

Forest 

The red roses have begun to be buried beneath the white sheet of snow. 

An orb of light is before them on the table with slytherin’s locket. The serpent with emerald stones on it. The radio has become static behind them, “It has to be destructible, doesn’t it?” 

Harry rubs his thumb over the back of Draco’s hand to reassure him. Both of them have spent over a week in the forest together, hidden in the tent. But neither of them could destroy it. The war won’t be won without it. He can’t lose this war, “I hope it is.” 

“Harry?” Draco whispers softly while he holds his hand to his own chest, “I’m here, I won’t leave you.” 

Harry buries his hand into the fabric of Draco’s maroon sweatshirt, “I won’t blame you if you want to leave this behind, Draco. Because it’s not your war to win.” 

“But it’s yours and I’ll be by your side till the end.” 

He rests his head on Draco’s shoulder and a tear slides down his cheek, “Become a mind reader, have you?” 

Draco brushes off the tears that have begun to slide down his cheeks and he holds Harry with such beautiful tenderness that it begins to heal the bruises in his heart, “I’m not a mind reader but I do know you, don’t I?”

“I want us to stay together till the end.” Harry whispers into his shoulder. Because of Draco he is less war torn than he was before. Because of Draco, he is more home than he has been before, “I don’t want to lose you, too.” 

Draco kisses his forehead, “We’re in this together, yeah?” 

Harry hopes that he won’t leave because he wanted Draco to be by his side. Because he wouldn’t survive this war if Draco wasn’t with him. If the both of them weren’t together, “It must be Christmas, no?” 

“Must be, yeah but we’ve lost track of time here.”

Harry brushes a kiss on the back of his hand and stands up. He turns up the radio volume and brings out the miniature version of the Christmas tree that he had saved for them, “Where did you bring this from?” 

“Went out yesterday night.” Harry holds out a hand to him, “May I have this dance, your majesty?” 

The radio is still a static sound but it’s enough for them. 

It elicits a laugh out of Draco. It’s a beautiful sound. It’s better than your favourite words. It’s a sound you would want to colour your nights with. But it has become a  sound he doesn’t hear often now, “You’re beautiful, you know?” 

Draco spins him around and brings him back to himself, “Says you and as if that wasn’t enough, you went out of your way to bring this miniature Christmas tree for us.” 

“I’m sorry that you couldn’t spend Christmas at your home because of me.” Harry whispers to him in between a kiss, “I’m sorry.” 

“Harry,” Draco holds his face between both his hands, “Who said I’m not home?” 

“But this isn’t home, is it?”

He turns Harry round to the miniature tree on the table, his back to Draco’s chest and rests his chin on his shoulder before he speaks, “We’re together in a forest with our own Christmas tree and we’re dancing to a static sound and there is nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

“I’d spend the rest of our lives in the forest together if you were by my side.” 

Draco kisses his neck and he can hear the smile in his voice when he whispers, “Till the end.” 

@phoebe-delia ​ @chinike @elenaxoxo22 ​ @thecornerofbelu @nv-md ​ ​ @missdrarrydawn @harryandginnydeservesbetter @draco-lucious-potter @textrovert-01 @dearly-devoted-dawdler @sorry-i-ship-drarry @inflation-of-mind @slytherinnbitch @drarryficrecs @loves-to-read-fanfic

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry fanfic #draco x harry #fanfiction #december microfics #angst #christmas fluff #christmas angst #forest

[young-royals-confessions]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37498795

As we are approaching the "hoppas du får en fin jul" time of the year I wanted to recommend this fic for everyone who hasn't read it yet

🌲 if we make it through december by oforamuse (@prncewilhelm)

wilhelm is alone in the palace for christmas. he doesn't have erik, he doesn't have simon, he doesn't have anyone.

#thanks! #haven't read this one #christmas angst #yr fanfic #young royals

[theprestigegirly]

guess who got back to their fic and is almost done with chapter five 🙀🙀🙀🙀

#i’m sorry it’s been so long lads #christmas angst #writing instead of studying for maths #writing instead of sleeping #i owe it to you #unfortunately promised stake out is going to be chapter 6 #ao3 #ao3 posting

[viktheviking-author]

Forget Christmas romances. I want a Christmas revenge plot.

#christmas story #christmas spirit #christmas special #christmas angst #story related #reading and writing #reading aesthetic #reading skills #reading stuff #hallmark movies #overrated #romance is boring #revenge plot #die hard is a christmas movie

[soliloquy-dawn]

I'm always endlessly curious as to other people's process, so here is for the ask game: 🛠 🦅 ⌛

Also, have a rant if you want: 👀

Hello Wild!

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I've not evolved passed google docs, and so far it works like a wonder. I tried to use Pages since I got a Mac, but I'm so used to google docs I think I'm stuck for now. It's also great for collabs and beta feedback. Any recommendations for what I should try instead?

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

I'm somewhere in between—a bit of a pantser and a bit of a planner. Depends on a fic to be fair. I usually have an idea, a rough plan of where I want it to go, and some specific story beats or motifs I want to include. And then I sit down and write. I'd say 30-40% of the fic is planned, the rest is just ??? oh, where did that come from?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

Massively depends on so many factors (if I have time, if I'm tired from lifing, if I am inspired or not in a given moment). I can write a 5k chapter in a day. But then another time it's going to take me three weeks.

Right now, I have 15k of a next Lost on You chapter written (but another 5k needs to be drafted before I can even start editing). I know exactly where it's going but I don't have it in me to finish right now. I needed a break, so I'm writing a 15k omegaverse fic in between and it's going much, much faster. It's lighter in tone and predominantly smutty, so I'm just having a jolly good time.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

@mlupin97 and I are doing a Christmas themed cheating fic called For Better or for Worse! First chapter is out, we're working on the second. It's drama and angst, and of course, smut.

#jegulus #christmas angst #soliloquy-dawn ask

[thatcottagecorepunk]

A not so Merry Christmas.

Beneath the tree, where memories were grown,

A slender tear; a soft undertone,

A vacant seat, a presence unseen,

In Christmas whispers, love in between,

Gone again, for always more unseen.

#digital art #ghost band #fanart #the band ghost #papa terzo #terzo emeritus #ghost terzo #nameless ghouls #alternate universe #christmas #christmas angst #sad poem #this is sad #merry christmas #merry chrysler

[actress4him]

Querencia Oneshot - Christmas

This takes place during Liliana’s homeless days (between chapters 4 and 5), just a couple of months after she turns 18 and leaves the facility. Someday I’d like to write her first Christmas with the team, as well, but for now enjoy some angst.

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @painful-pooch , @inky-whump

Masterlist

Contains: lady whumpee (no whumper), homelessness, talk of moldy food?, referenced parental abandonment

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.

Liliana didn’t realize it was Christmas. She should have, really, but with her days taken up with constantly searching for food and supplies and sometimes new shelter when yet another has been compromised, every moment occupied by just trying to survive, the passing of time is generally the least of her worries.

Subconsciously, she’d noticed that fall decorations had come and gone in front of various businesses. And of course it had gotten cold long ago, had even snowed a time or two already.

But it doesn’t hit her that the Christmas season has arrived until she’s staring at a brightly lit tree, standing proudly in the front window of a store. It’s beautiful, all red and gold and glittering, white lights shining from dark green branches and a giant gold bow adorning the very top.

It’s not the only one, either. Dozens of Christmas decorations seem to have popped up overnight, as if the whole city had decided that this is the official day for the season to start. Suddenly it bothers her that she doesn’t know what day that is. Was yesterday Thanksgiving? Or is it December first? Or do they normally wait even later, until the day is nearly here?

She can’t remember. It’s been too long, she was only fifteen the last time she saw anyone decorate for the holidays. The staff at the facility certainly never bothered. Christmas there came and went with no acknowledgement other than what she saw on the tv. It had always taken her by surprise there, too, when all of a sudden local news anchors were talking about Santa coming to visit and Hallmark started playing cheesy holiday movies nonstop.

But this is different, somehow. She doesn’t know why, to start with. She walks through the streets like normal, making stops at her regular dumpsters, finding a whole loaf of bread that’s been thrown out because of a couple of little mold spots and even a hoodie three sizes too big for her with a giant gaping hole up the side. Normally finds like that would have her as close as she ever gets to excited, would at least ease some of the constant gnawing in her chest that isn’t sure how much longer she can survive out here.

But today she’s preoccupied with the lighted decorations around every corner and the city workers who are putting up wreaths on the street lights. Today finding a loaf of moldy bread in a dumpster seems less like a victory and more like what the rest of the world would see it as - pathetic and gross.

As she traverses the sidewalks with her head ducked beneath the hood of the new jacket, two sounds hit her all at once - “Silver Bells” being crooned over the loudspeaker of a store, coupled with the ringing of a Salvation Army bell. Her feet halt in place. A wave of sadness so strong it clogs her throat and seizes her lungs washes over her, and that’s when she finally realizes the difference this year…she’s homesick. All of these decorations, the songs, even the frigid air and the incessant bell ringing, they’re all the things her Christmas used to be made up of, back before the facility, back when she had a family to celebrate with and a home to celebrate in.

She misses Papà bringing in the tree while belting a carol, a Santa hat perched on his head. She misses the kitchen full of treats Mamà made. She misses pouncing on Mateo’s bed far too early on Christmas morning, too excited to stay in her own room any longer.

Wherever they are, whether they moved all the way across the country from her or just to another corner of the city, just far enough that she can’t find them, they’re doing all of it without her. Have been for the past three years, too. Mamà is decorating the tree while apple cider simmers on the stove, Papà is bringing the boxes of decorations out of the attic, and Mateo is probably bugging them both for the latest technology that he’s put on his wish list. She wonders, not for the first time, if they ever think of her at all. If they ever expect her to come bouncing into the room with a string of paper snowflakes, or if they try to turn around and smile at her when her favorite song comes on. At least the first year, maybe, did they at least miss her then? Do they still hang all of her ornaments up, and wonder how she’s doing in the facility that they sentenced her to, or are those all packed away, never to be seen again? Or maybe they’ve been tossed in the trash, like her.

Suddenly she hates Christmas. She hates the lights, and the trees, and the ringing bell and the carols and the Santa hats and the wreaths. She doesn’t want to see any of it anymore, doesn’t want to have to think about it anymore.

Hitching her backpack full of slightly moldy bread up higher on her shoulders, she returns to her back alley where time and holidays don’t exist.

#querencia #liliana the healer #christmas angst #christmas fic #lady whump #lady whumpee #homelessness tw #homeless whumpee #parental abandonment tw #whump writing

[rosalind-of-arden]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Keria Morning, Annis (The Great Library), Christopher Wolfe (The Great Library) Additional Tags: Christmas Angst, everything about the Iron Tower is horrible Summary:

Annis helps Keria with baby Christopher. She sings a Christmas carol as a lullaby. Does that sound fluffy? It is not. It's Coventry Carol. This is angst.

#the great library #fic #wtf even is this #christmas angst #everything about the iron tower is horrible

[sausagesquirrel]

Cemetery Snow (click to read on AO3)

by SausageSquirrel

Matt tracks down Frank to the cemetery.

He looked up, but didn’t unclasp his hands when he heard the approaching footsteps, didn’t need to look at the pistol laid beside where he was sat to know exactly where it was. Frank let out a sigh when he recognised the figure,

“The fuck you doing here, Red?”

#fratt #fratt fic #ficlet #short #christmas angst #softness #tiny

[juiche]

a moment of peace before the whole world shatters 😇

#do you ever cry while touching your pinky to a strand of your besties unruly hair #I call this aesthetic “warm angst” :'D #geto taking the pining to the next level #I imagine this takes place after the big village event #but before gojo finds out about it #just geto taking a moment to say his farewell to the life as he knew it #christmas present for my satosugu obsessed buddy @kymsys who lovingly made me read the manga at gunpoint. I hate you (affectionately) ❤️ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satosugu #stsg #satosugu fanart #stsg fanart #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk fanart #anime #fanart #digital art #art #artwork #gojo fanart #geto fanart