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raeshutupandbookup · 1 year

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"You know what I don't like the most about Christmas?"

"Besides everything and the fact that the religious side stole quite a few things from the Pagans?"

Chuckling, I reach for the bottle we have been sharing from as I look back out over the city. Lights shimmering and shining as the stars compete for the attention.

"Yes, besides that." I roll my eyes as he nudges me with his elbow.

"Go on."

"The magic ending."

"Thought you didn't believe in magic?" Taking the bottle gingerly from my gloved fingers.

"I believe in magic just not the sort you would find in a high fantasy novel." Letting out a long breath I watch as it smokes out in front of me because of the cold air. "Just how everything is built up to this one day. All this effort, time, and money thrown into one day but when it's over. The magic is gone, and everyone returns to their normal lives."

"Mmm," swallowing Russ stares out at the apartment complexes with lit windows, "Don't forget the part about bragging about how much money was spent or how many presents they got."

Gripping the end of my jacket I feel my knuckles shake, "Reminding others how poor they are and even one gift is a lucky thing. . ."

Leaning his massive body into mine Russ lays his head on my shoulder, "I hated the day after Christmas. My parents deemed it safe enough to resume their natural ways of arguing and blaming each other for everything. Yelling at me to clean up my mess and stop sitting around and playing with my toys. The new toys they had gotten me. . ."

"I'm sorry." I murmur into his blonde hair as he passes the bottle to me.

"Ah, it's in the past now. Dad's enjoying his new wife and I think last I heard from my mom she was dating two guys and touring Europe or something."

Snorting I almost choke on the spicy drink, "Two guys?"

Shifting his head so Russ can look up at me, "Mmhmm, why you jealous?"

Laughing I shake my head, "I already have to put up with you and your laundry. I don't think I could handle another person."

"What if it was someone who loved doing chores? Like to the point chores were a part of their everyday routine?"

Raising an eyebrow I looked into his playful eyes, "You have someone in mind?"

Smirking he shakes his head as he straightens up, "Nah, just wanted to see your reaction. Not really interested in sharing you with anyone."

"And I don't want to share you with anyone."

Looking at me Russ leans in and kisses my temple, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "The magic doesn't have to end tonight. We can keep it going every day."

"And I won't yell at you to stop playing with your toys."

"Good because you're one of them." Grinning at me as his teeth show.

Snorting I shake my head as I place the bottle on the ground, "I should punch you for that statement."

"Do it, least then I will know that you're hitting on me."

Laughing I shake my head as he pulls me into him. "Even if I can't get you the world and you aren't able to brag about the many gifts. I hope you still had a great Christmas."

"The one gift was plenty; well, I guess maybe I received two."

Looking down at me his brows knit together, "What do you mean?"

"I got you." Turning away I rub my face, "Ugh, it's so corny but just you accept me for who I am and don't try to shove me into a mold. Loving my sexuality and being my biggest cheerleader with this new career endeavor and. . ."

"I can see smoke billowing out of your ears," he whispers as I feel his warm breath against my cold skin.

"You're such a--"

Kissing me deeply I sigh into him as he moves a gloved hand up the back of my neck. "I love your corniness and your authenticity. It was something I hated the most when I was in the dating world. How women tried to be overly perfect, but you? You never pretended to be this ideal woman just so I would fall for you."

"I was tired of being perfect and lying to myself. . ." Whispering and feeling my cheeks warm again. I look down at his other hand on my upper thigh.

"I'm glad you chose that path. Because now I get to experience this constant magic with you that cannot be bought. Though I still want to spoil you with gifts." Nipping the tip of my nose playfully.

"I want to get you gifts as well."

"Mmm I'm easy but let's go inside." Wiggling his eyebrows as he tightens his grip on my neck.

"Happy Yule you werido."

"Merry Christmas you freak."

No matter what you celebrate or if you do, have a great holiday or a nice relaxing day. Stay warm, safe, and enjoy whatever you do for this day!

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laurenairay · 2 months

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hopeless hearts just passing through - J. Hughes

This my entry for @wyattjohnston’s low-key lovefest 2k24 prompt list challenge. I chose “stop making promises you aren’t going to keep” from the angst list and “you’re the only person I wanted to see tonight” from the fluff list.

Summary: Jack had messed up, again. Can he make it up to you this time, or is it too late?

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: light angst, Jack being a dumbass, some bad language, fluff

Title from: I was made for loving you, by Tori Kelly

Thursday 28th December

[7.00pm] You’ve reached Jack. I’m obviously not here right now so leave me a message after the beep.

[7.25pm] You’ve reached Jack. I’m obviously not here right now so leave me a message after the beep.

[8.00pm] You’ve reached Jack. I’m obviously not here right now so leave me a message after the beep.

“Hey Jack, guess you’ve forgotten our call. Again. By now you probably have other plans tonight? Just… please give me a call when you listen to this.”

Friday 29th December

Morning came without a phone call. You didn’t know whether you were surprised or not, if you were being honest – this wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten to call you while on the road like he promised he would. This time though it felt different. Maybe it was because the two of you had spent a wonderful happy Hannukah & Christmas together only days before that hurt you the most. Maybe it was just because you believed Jack when he promised. Either way, this time you couldn’t let it go – it was a matter of principle.

You made it through your entire morning routine, getting washed and dressed for work, eating breakfast, packing your lunch into your work bag, before your phone started to ring. Jack. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, wincing as you slipped into your shoes and grabbed your hooded coat, bag and keys on the way out the door. You weren’t going to be late, not for him.

“I’m on my way to work, I really can’t talk right now.”

You answered bluntly, pinning your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you put on your coat the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“I am so sorry baby.”

Really?

“That’s really all you have to say?” you snapped, picking your work bag up off the floor now that you’d zipped up your coat.

“What else can I say?”

You were stunned for a moment, lips parting. The nerve of this guy.

“Oh I don’t know, how about what you’re actually sorry for?” you said, the sarcasm in your voice barely hiding your anger.

You heard him huff out a breath, perfectly in time with the elevator doors opening on the ground floor of your apartment building.

“I’m sorry I missed our call. I know I promised to call you but I just totally forgot. The guys were all excited about a mario kart tournament and I really wanted Luke to finally get in on the action!”

“Please don’t blame your brother for your mistakes.”

Jack inhaled sharply over the phone. You could almost picture his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say, just as he usually did in person, so you just waited for him to speak as you trudged down the street to your usual bus stop.

“I’m sorry. For blaming Luke and for upsetting you. It won’t happen again, baby, I promise.”

Yeah, okay. As if that was the first time he’d said that.

“Stop making promises you aren’t going to keep,” you said sharply.

Jack was silent for a moment or two.

“What do you mean?”

His voice sounded so small, so quiet, like he finalised realised the depth of how badly he’d screwed up. Good.

“You know what I mean, Jack. I’m not asking for the world – I know your team will always be priority. I’m just getting sick of never even crossing your mind at all. Even a text to say a mario kart tournament had started last minute would’ve been better than being fucking ghosted by my own boyfriend,” you groaned.

Thankfully there was no-one else at the bus stop to hear your cursing.

“Baby, please, I can do better. I will do better.”

He was clearly panicking, voice full of desperation with whatever he was reading from your own voice. But you just sighed, not really sure what to say because this wasn’t the first time so would it really be the last? Could you really believe him?

Before you could think of an answer to his pleading, your bus came into view as it turned the corner onto your road. Clearly this was a sign.

“I have to go, my bus is here,” you said softly.

“No baby, wait please, I-”

You ended the call without letting him finish, already feeling a headache coming on as the anger washed out of you. This was the last thing you needed after the heartache of last night – his panicked pleading. It wouldn’t help his case when he was so far away, not when you were this frustrated with him. The best thing for you to do, rather than tumbling into saying something you would regret, would be to give yourself some space, some breathing room.

Something that Jack clearly didn’t agree with as he immediately called your phone again.

Thankfully the bus pulled up right at that moment, so you felt justified in ignoring him, slipping your phone into your pocket as you flashed the driver your bus pass, focusing on finding a seat for your commute.

It was all you could do to keep your face neutral, trying to ignore the overwhelmed tears stinging at your eyes as your phone continued to buzz for most of your journey.

As you suspected, your morning at work was terrible. Not only did your mild headache turn into a fully formed one, but you were clearly giving off ‘leave me alone’ vibes because your colleagues steered clear, leaving you to stew in your emotions in peace. Not even a walk outside during your lunch break did any good – you still had a headache, the food you packed was so-so, and you had three emails to deal with that were really not your problem.

Didn’t people know that sending emails between Christmas and New Year was pointless?

“Hey, you’ve got a delivery.”

You jerked your head up from your computer to see your office receptionist standing next to you with a gigantic bouquet of flowers – white and pink roses, to be precise, around three dozen. What the hell?

“Uh, thanks,” you murmured, forcing a quick smile as she passed the bouquet over.

You tried desperately to ignore the whispers and stares around you as you spotted a card. Really you knew there was only one person who would send you flowers, but you still opened the small envelope with shaking hands anyway.

‘I’m sorry. Jack xx’

A simple message but it still made your heart ache.

That, and it made your lingering headache pound more. This was so typical Jack, wanting to do some sort of grand gesture which in technicality was very sweet but also so not what you needed right now. You didn’t need the reminder that things were shaky between you two. You didn’t need the stares and attention from your colleagues, all of them now knowing that something was wrong from your reaction. And you didn’t need to carry the bouquet home on the bus with you, the unresolved tension between you and Jack hanging over you like an axe.

Or, well, like a bouquet of 36 flowers, bigger than your head.

“Oh honey, what did he do?”

You winced at the pitying voice of your colleague, smiling sadly as you shook your head.

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” you said softly.

She nodded, smiling sadly back.

“Well if you change your mind, message me and we’ll go for coffee,” she said, voice quiet, trying to give you a modicum of privacy.

You just nodded, thanking her quietly in response, and she left with a squeeze of your shoulder. She meant well, you knew she did, and hopefully this interaction would stop anyone else (especially those who loved to stir drama) from approaching you too.

It was all you could do to put the flowers on the side of your desk, trying to ignore everything they represented. You had work to do – thinking about Jack right now was not going to do you any good.

When your phone buzzed a couple of hours later though, you still read the messages that Jack sent, one after another coming in.

[3.22pm]

From: Jack I got an email saying the flowers had been delivered. I chose white and pink roses to symbolise how much I love you and my loyalty and how sorry I am. I know that I messed up and I understand why you’re upset with me. But please give me a second chance?

He'd looked up flower symbolism. He specifically chose white and pink roses because of their meaning. What were you supposed to do with something so romantic when you were this frustrated with him?

Fuck.

With a sigh you pulled up the Devils schedule on your phone, confirming the date in your mind that he’d be back from his roadtrip. He was still in Ottawa today and then Boston tomorrow…but he would be back on New Year’s Eve. You could work with that.

[3.35pm]

To: Jack The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. I am still upset with you, but I will hear you out. If you want to talk, come to mine on NYE. I have no plans.

The two of you hadn’t discussed any parties or plans at all for New Year’s Eve, even though you had assumed Jack would’ve dragged you somewhere in the end. But this was better. You needed time alone with him because there was no way you could face him for the first time after all this while surrounded by other people. Putting the ball in his court was the only way to keep your sanity at this point.

With another sigh you put your phone down, raking a hand through your hair as your eyes lingered on the colourful blooms on your desk. They really were beautiful.

You weren’t surprised when it took mere minutes before your phone buzzed again.

[3.37pm]

From: Jack I’ll be there. I promise.

Saturday 30th December

[11.15pm]

To: Jack Sorry about the loss. You’ll get the Bruins next time.

[11.20pm]

From: Jack Thanks ❤️

Sunday 31st December

You hadn’t spoken to Jack since texting him after yesterday’s defeat. Mostly because you knew he was travelling, but also because you knew that him coming over to yours tonight was when you really needed to speak.

For some reason you were a little nervous. You didn’t know what it was really that had you furiously cleaning your apartment, but those fizzing bubbles ran all through your body the whole day. It didn’t help that you had no idea what time Jack would come over. Assuming he was still coming over, that was. No, he had promised, and he knew how you felt about promises. At least you hoped he had learned his lesson on how you felt because you weren’t sure of how much more you could take.

Tonight had to be your deciding factor on protecting your heart, you knew that much.

When you’d scrubbed and rearranged and hoovered all that you could, you showered and dressed up in a comfortable black velvet tea dress, curled your hair and put on a little make-up before putting some wine in the fridge to chill. It was New Year’s Eve after all, and you knew that if Jack didn’t turn up by 9pm, your friends had insisted that you go over to theirs to celebrate the new year together. It felt good to know that you had a safety net because if Jack didn’t show tonight? You were done. And you knew you’d need the support of your friends to get you through.

Fuck.

You really hoped he showed up.

When it got to 6pm, you put some soft music on, hoping to drown out the silence of your apartment, feeling like an idiot for just sitting around waiting for him. What if he didn’t show up? What if he let you down again? What if this was the end of your relationship? What if…

Bzzzzz

The buzzer for your apartment crashed through your swirling thoughts and you quickly jumped to your feet, cheeks heating with how ridiculous you felt.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Can you let me up?”

Jack. He came.

You didn’t answer, just pressed the button to let him in, trying to keep yourself calm as you paced to and forth while you waited for him to take the elevator up to your apartment. In all reality it didn’t take long, but after the last few days it felt like a lifetime.

“Hey.”

You huffed out a laugh at your awkward greetings, stepping aside to let him in.

“Thanks, uh, for inviting me over,” Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t sure what time you would come. Or what you were doing tonight,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.

Jack groaned, walking further into your apartment, you following silently. “I should’ve texted. Fuck, I should’ve told you exactly what time I was coming over, but I got so caught up trying to find the right thing to wear and dropping Luke off early at Nico’s and…”

Oh bless his heart. He was going straight into it then.

His rant trailed off as you pressed a finger to his lips, responding to your amused smile with a shy one of his own.

“You look great, Jack – you always do,” you said simply, dropping your hand back to your side, “But I actually meant if you had other plans around this like parties you were going to go to.”

Jack immediately shook his head, face more serious than you’d ever seen it.

“You’re the only person I wanted to see tonight,” he said firmly.

Oh fuck. Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, Jack taking the chance to hold both of your hands.

“I messed up. I know I messed up. I haven’t been treating you with the respect you deserve and missing even one call with you without letting you know why is unacceptable…”

Wow. This was far more than you had ever expected from him, and your heart ached with the emotion he was putting into his thoughts. Maybe he’d rehearsed this with Luke, maybe he was winging it, but you could tell in his eyes that he meant every word. He was right – you hadn’t been respected like you deserve. Could he really turn himself around though?

“…I really am sorry, baby. I love you so much and I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Please, will you forgive me?”

The confidence in his voice wavered a little, voice cracking with the emotion of his words, and you felt a pang radiate through your chest. You’d never seen him look so vulnerable before. Maybe you needed to see it.

As you formed your thoughts, you kept your hands in his, squeezing to let him know you were processing so he didn’t panic or shut down. That was the last thing you wanted or needed. This was a lot, and it was important that you said what you really meant.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to dive straight into this.”

Jack winced slightly, lips parting, but you shook your head. No, it was your turn now.

“You really hurt me, Jack. I appreciate that you understand that, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I was hurt. I don’t ask for much and you couldn’t even give me the bare minimum,” you started.

The whimper that escaped from his throat just about broke your heart, but you barrelled on.

“I deserve more. I deserve better. I deserve respect, you’re right. I just…I really hope you’re the one that can give that to me,” you said softly.

As your words sunk in, a hopeful smile quickly spread across his face.

“I get a second chance?” he grinned, making you huff out a laugh.

“Yeah, Jack, you do. But you won’t get a third. I don’t like feeling like I don’t matter and you can’t do that again,” you said, hoping he understood how serious you were.

Jack nodded, squeezing your hands.

“I won’t let you down, baby. I almost lost you once by being a careless asshole, I won’t lose you again,” he said, smiling.

Oh how that smile gave you butterflies.

“I love you,” he said again.

It didn’t matter how long you’d been together or how many times he said it – hearing those words fall from his lips made your heart race every single time.

“I love you too,” you said, finally smiling back.

Jack whooped, throwing his head back in celebration, making you burst out in laughter, even more so as he dropped your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, picking you up to spin around in a circle. Ridiculous, ridiculous man.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You just clutched at his shoulders as he murmured the words over and over again in your ear, hoping that this time, his words would be true.

#my writing #jack hughes fic #lowkey lovefest 2k24 #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine

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puddle-nerd · 4 months

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Tsaheylu

Summary: Jake was curious about his kuru and turned to you – his lover – for answers. (Jake/Female Na’vi Reader)

Prompt #12 for Avatar12DaysofKinkmas2023.

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Kuru (Neural Queue) Play, Female Na’vi Reader, Established Relationship, Cockwarming, Tail Play, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Author Note: Merry Christmas / Happy Hannukah / Seasons Greetings and all that jazz, everyone! This is my last post for the challenge and let’s give a big round of thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt list and everyone else who participated in posting for Avatar’s 12 Days of Kinkmas.

Na’vi Translation: Kelku — home | house Kuru — neural queue Tsaheylu — neural bond made through the connection of two neural queues Yawntu — lover | loved one | beloved person

AO3 Link

Jake had been surprisingly curious about the sensitivity of his kuru and as you were his yawntu, you were more than happy to educate him, especially today, what with the rain coming down relentlessly from the sky and driving everyone in the Omatikayan village to take shelter in their respective family huts. Plus, with everyone tucked away in their individual kelkus, you could engage your teachings in a much more naked setting. Sitting yourself comfortably upon your mate’s lap, your thighs thrown over his hips and his thick cock pressed deep within your cunt, you rested your thin arms over his shoulders and rubbed your hands up and down the dark braid with a smug smirk spread upon your lips. You watched as his golden orbs rolled and he panted for breath, shuddering as your inner walls greedily clenched down upon his length and your fingers teasingly stroked up and down the length of his neural queue like you would do to his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned, “that feels so good.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in agreement as you shifted over him, whimpering as you ground down onto his cock and tugged lightly at his kuru. He groaned at the double sensation.

He moved his large hands from your waist, one hand cupping your backside and squeezing firmly while the other brushed teasingly up and over the soft skin of your striped back. As his hand traced back down your spine, his hand wrapped around the base of your tail and he timed it perfectly to tug when you pulled on his neural queue. You both released noises from your throats and you began to rock yourself over him, no longer content to tease. He chuckled as your eagerness and dipped his head, kissing you hungrily, his tongue delving between your lips and tangling with his own.

“Tsaheylu,” he begged, smooching you earnestly. “Please, baby. Wanna feel you.”

You nodded, tightening your legs around his waist as he fervently drove into your warm, wet depths. You pulled on his black braid and had the pink tendrils meet yours, the feeling of Tsaheylu making you whine in pleasure and dig your nails into his muscular back. “Ah, yes, Ma’Jake,” you whined, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Jake grunted, gritting his teeth when he felt your pussy throb around his shaft. He hissed, “F-fu-uck, baby. S’good. S’tight. Pull my queue? Need it.”

You tugged on his kuru, the sharp sting of pleasure echoing through the connection and causing you to cry out and press your heels into the back of his thighs. “Ma’Jake,” you sobbed, the hot coil tightening deep within your belly as he made your pleasure rise higher and higher within you with every plunge of his thick cock deep within your depths. You tugged on his neural queue once more and bright lights burst deep over your eyesight as you felt him climax, falling over the edge of your own orgasm and ripping a wail from your throat. Your body shook with the strength of your finish, your nails digging into his back and your toes curling almost painfully.

As you two cuddled upon your mat, you nipped at his shoulder, whispering, “So, now you know why the kuru is only for parents, infants and lovers.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead in agreement.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 25 December 2023

Word Count: 555

AO3 Link

#avatar12daysofkinkmas #avatar #atwow #na'vi reader #jake sully #jake sully x reader

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inmymagnetoera · 5 months

Note

Hello! I have a prompt for you! My prompt is that Erik Lehnsherr finds out that he has extended family who managed to survive the Shoah/Holocaust and they celebrate Hanukkah together!

PLEASE THIS PROMPT IS SO CUTE

here it is for you! :D♡

______________________

The extended family

Erik had been sitting for an unknown period of time on one of his old kitchen chairs in his small suburban apartment. How long had he been standing motionless staring into nothing? He didn't know and couldn't even give a time range. That same morning he received a call that turned everything he had always believed upside down.

When he got up that same morning, after convincing Charles to let him go to prepare breakfast, receiving a groan in return, he didn't expect to find three missed calls from an unknown number. Who could it be? It wasn't a call center number because well, Erik was almost convinced he had blocked them all and the few contacts he had on his smartphone were all saved with name and surname, so it was rare for an unknown number to call him. He didn't want to call back initially but when the phone rang again, he found himself forced to answer.

"Yes? Who's talking?" He asked in an irritated voice to let the person on the other end know that he didn't feel like having a conversation.

"Is this Erik Lehnsherr?" A female voice asked.

"Who's talking?" Erik asked again.

"I'm Sarah Eisenhardt and I believe you are my cousin." The voice said with a slight tone of amusement on the other end.

Erik froze. Eisenhardt? Like, his mother's maiden name? Cousin? Did Erik have any other family besides Charles?

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling his heart beat faster.

"It took me a while to find you, actually. You're very difficult to contact. My father is Rolf Eisenhardt and he's your mother's brother." Erik gripped the phone as tight as he could.

"My mother never told me about a brother."

"Yeah, I didn't know I had an aunt either until a few months ago. My father and your mother argued even before the war started. My father wanted to go to the States and take your mother with him, but your mother had just married and didn't want to leave. My father left and never saw her again." Erik was…angry. Why had this Rolf never looked for his mother or tried to contact him?

"I know this is most likely a shock for you but I can assure you that my father had tried to find his sister but after many years he lost hope. When he told me about it, I tried to investigate to find out if she had had children and I was able to trace it back to you. You don't have to be in our lives if you don't want to, but you know, Hannukah is coming up soon and my dad would be very happy to find out he has another nephew." Erik thought for a moment and made his decision.

"Okay. Yes, I would like to but I haven't celebrated Hannukah in a long time."

"Don't worry! We'll teach you everything in case."

"Ok then... if you give me the address I'll stop by." After ending the call with some awkward goodbyes, Erik sat back and thought.

"Erik? What are you doing?" Charles asked sleepily coming towards him and sitting on his lap.

"I have a family." He said in a small voice, holding the other close to him.

"What?" Charles asked now fully awake.

“A woman named Sarah who, apparently, is the daughter of my mother's brother, called me this morning.”

"Your mother had a brother?!"

“I had pretty much the same reaction.”

"Oh Erik, that's great! We should go see them." He said with a smile.

"They invited me to celebrate Hannukah with them. Will you come with me?" He asked hopefully, resting his chin on his lover's shoulder.

"Of course I'll come with you." He said kissing him.

A few days later, at the door of a large red house, Erik didn't know if he had ever been so agitated in his life. He gripped the neck of the bottle of wine brought as a gift tighter and, at the sight, Charles squeezed his hand.

"It'll be fine. They'll love you." He reassured him by ringing the doorbell. The door was opened by a woman who must have been a little older than Erik with thick, curly black hair, skin the same shade as Erik and eyes a shade darker.

"Are you Erik? It's so nice to meet you!" She said throwing herself forward and hugging him. Erik stiffened and placed a hand on her upper back.

"Oh I'm sorry, it's just so nice to have a new member in the family. And you are?" She asked looking at Charles.

"Erik's boyfriend. It's a real pleasure." He said holding out his hand only to be hugged back.

"There's no need for formalities. You're family too!" She said looking at him with eyes full of joy.

“Oh come, you must meet everyone.” He let them in and took them to the large dining room where about twenty people were talking, eating, drinking and having fun.

"Attention please, I have someone to introduce you to." Sarah said getting everyone's attention.

“Who is this guy, Sarah?” An elderly man sitting at the head of the table asked.

"Dad, this is Erik Lehnsherr. He's Edie's son." Everyone went quiet and the world was spinning in Erik's eyes. He felt his insides tremble. The older man looked at him with bulging eyes and stood up, walking slowly towards him. She looked at him intensely and, without anyone expecting it, burst into tears.

"My God, you're just like your mother. Let me look at you. Oh, my little sister had a son and I had no idea. Look at how big you are." He hugged him and Erik burst into tears.

"I didn't know anyone was still alive." He said as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"If only I had known what was going to happen, I would have taken my sister and taken her with me here to America. But I was young and angry and I didn't think twice about leaving her behind after she told me no. When everyone found out what the Nazis had done I couldn't live with myself and I looked for her, I swear I did but I never managed to find anything." He pulled away from the hug and wiped his eyes.

"Stop crying. These are days of celebration for us. Come and sit down, we have a lot of things to talk about." And so, Erik spent the holidays sitting at a large table, surrounded by people who until a few days before he had been convinced did not exist, listening to the stories his uncle told about his mother and the Eisenhardt family.

Charles squezzed his hand and Erik did the same and, for the first time in too long, he thought that life could be a little more beautiful than he thought.

#erik lehnsherr #cherik #charles xavier #x men #fanfic

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terresdebrume · 3 months

Note

#14, Joe Liebgott ship of your choice <3

Prompts from the "Things you said" prompt list, with 14 being "When I wasn't meant to hear." Send me a number and a character/pairing if you want to see more writing! :D

Thanks for the request! I feel like it took me forever to answer, but in my defense I was at work and also this thing turned out to be 2.5k long :P No particular warning except for the mention of past suicidal thinking towards the end-ish. Also, this is Webgott, because I'm nothing if not consistent (in shipping choices, anyway).

____

Joe looks up from the cutting board, sniffing against the sting of his onions, and glances idly at the kitchen clock, then frowns when he sees the time. Mrs. Obradovic called David out on the phone almost half an hour ago, saying something about an old friend on the line. Joe assumed it would be Chuck or Christenson, asking David round for a night out on the weekend like they do sometimes, but you don’t pay for half an hour on the line to shoot the crap with a guy you see once a month.

As for the others, well. David wasn’t popular with Easy, and Guarnere is the only one who ever bothers calling, usually to let David know to expect his invitation to the next reunion soon. No way Guarnere has that much to say to David though, especially not on a long-distance call. Curiosity piqued, Joe sets his knife down and abandons his half-chopped onion on the cutting board. He wipes his hands on the apron David got him last Hannukah, with the edges fraying where Joe tore off the lacy frills, and quietly makes his way out of the apartment.

They live on the second floor, under the roof. It’s not a bad spot. Too hot in the summer and too damn cold in the winter, for sure…but it’s also soundproofed from when the rest of the building belonged to a single family who didn’t like to remember they had maids and whatnot living up there. Painfully snob, yes, but it does allow Joe to fuck David until he screams without worrying about being overheard, among other things. Pretty good deal, if you ask him. He makes his way downstairs, inhaling the scent of curry behind the downstairs neighbors’ door, and is stepping on the first landing when he hears David’s laughter.

“Well,” David says, sarcastic, “aren’t you just hilarious today.”

Yeah, this is definitely no one from Easy. If he used that tone with any of them, they’d stop calling, and fast. Chuck and Christenson’s connection to David is already more geographical than anything else, Joe doesn’t think they’d take well to being spoken to with that kind of lazy arrogance. Hell, he’s a floor up and not involved, and it’s already grating on his nerves. He’s stepping down on the stairs, ready to go and pull faces at David for speaking like the snotty Harvard upstart he used to be, but then David sighs and says: ‘Of course I do’ in a tired tone that makes Joe pause. Then, before Joe can make his mind up on taking the next step, David adds:

“Who wouldn’t miss space and functional heating?”

Joe’s entire body goes rigid. Downstairs, David is slumping against the wall, one hand holding the phone up to his ear while the other fiddles with the cord. He seems. Normal. Casual. Like there’s nothing wrong with him chuckling and saying:

“Mmh. I haven’t had lobster in ages.” There is a pause filled with the light whistle that hasn’t left Joe’s ears since the war. “Definitely. And wine. I haven’t had a really good wine in years.” Another pause, and Joe watches David shake his head. “They’d never take me back.”

Something gives Joe’s gut a violent squeeze, like an icy fist around his bowels. He feels the blood climb into his cheeks, the burn against the back of his neck. in his palms, his nails sting. In the hallway, David’s head tips back, to the ceiling in an open-mouthed, beseeching look. It’s a bad angle, from where Joe is, but there’s no mistaking the sudden tension in David’s shoulders, the way he shifts until both of his feet rest on the ground.

Seething, Joe turns around and thunders back upstairs, slamming the front door closed on the way to the kitchen. The ingredients of his mother’s potatoes and leek soup recipe glare at him from the cutting board. Potatoes, leeks, onions, all grown on the damn roof nobody else uses, because Joe figured it’d be good to have something to lean on in case they hit a rough spot at work. Didn’t even consider planting some vine up there, schmuck that he is. Joe strides to the counter in two quick steps, because that’s all it takes in the tiny unit, and picks the onion back up. He peels it with prejudice, and attacks it with his knife as soon as he’s done, barely registering when David’s slippers click through the hallway and into the kitchen.

Though, of course, the situation can’t hold for long.

“What’s going on?” David asks, and Joe stays silent. David sighs. “Joe. What’s going on.”

“Nothing,” Joe mutters.

He’s not surprised when all that gets him is a click of the tongue and David stepping closer. Damn kid is oblivious at the best of times and rarely inclined to use that big brain of his for common sense, but, well. They have been fucking since Lansberg. Five years is a long time to spend in and out of a guy’s bed without figuring out some of his lies. Even so, Joe doesn’t look up from where he’s making the most finely chopped onion of his life.

“Look, I know I said I’d handle dinner—”

If Joe were honest, he’d admit he’d completely forgotten about that. David’s dinners usually consist of sandwiches and cold cuts anyway, so the benefits of leaving that up to him rarely outweigh the costs. But Joe is not always an honest man, and so he says:

“Don’t sweat it.” Then, when it feels like David is relaxing by his side, he adds: “It’s hardly a loss anyway.”

David draws a breath in, sharp and short as his body recoils. Joe keeps his eyes on his hands, ignoring the sting as he reaches for another onion over the countertop and begins peeling it.

“You said you liked my sandwiches,” David says, something confused in his tone, and it’s such an inane response, Joe finds himself looking up to glare at him.

“They’re fucking sandwiches, Web, not some kind of hot cuisine or whatever the fuck you thought you were doing with it.” David’s eyes go from bovinely confused to shining with hurt, the slant of his eyebrows matching the line of his mouth as it falls open. Then his jaw sets, like it always does, he’s glaring right back at Joe:

“You know what? Fuck this. If you wanted fancy dishes all you had to do was teach me to cook something.”

“I don’t give a shit about fancy dishes,” Joe shouts back, acutely aware that’s the heart of their current problem. “I’m fine with normal food.”

“Wha—how the fuck am I not okay with normal food?” David exclaims, voice pitched higher than normal. “I’ve never complained about your cooking, have I?”

“Well,” Joe says, as snide as he knows how to be, “Maybe you should have. Maybe we should both have complained more. Save ourselves some regrets.”

“Regrets?”

David’s face changes again. From the flushed tone of his temper, it falls into the stoniness of all their true arguments. It’s a cold, impassible face, and if Joe weren’t so fucking pissed every time he sees it he’d maybe take the time to envy it. There’s nothing to read on a face like that, not even when you’ve spent the past five years in and out of a guy’s bed, brushing your teeth over the same tiny sinks in the mornings. It’s the kind of face that could hide anything. Does, too, apparently.

“What regrets are you having, then, Joe?” David asks with the voice of a stranger.

“Not my regrets,” Joe corrects, mouth filling with the bitterness of the words. “I’m fine with what I got.” Then, because the chill hasn’t left his guts and it needs something to get out, Joe hisses: “I have enough space.”

David’s face doesn’t change, but Joe sees it anyway: the line. It’s in the way his shoulders stiffen, the way he straightens up. Joe could stop at that line. Could step away from it and let them go back to their evening. But the fist hasn’t left—presses harder on his insides, on his throat, behind his eyes, and so Joe ignores the warnings and says:

“I don’t give a shit about fancy wine.”

Joe can see David’s jaw working at that, eyes fleeing Joe’s to roam around the room. He’s cottoned on, then. Joe braces for the next step: the narrowing of David’s eyes, the flush climbing up his throat. He leans into Joe’s space to hiss:

“You’re being fucking unfair. And you know it.”

“Unfair? It’s not fucking unfair, Web, it’s honest.”

David’s got nothing to complain about here. He’s not the one who’s been busting his ass for nothing for the past five years. Joe fucking found the space, didn’t he? Painted it, furnished it, arranged it so David would have a fucking space to put his bags down once he finished his precious little degree. Kept it up, too: Joe’s the reason they haven’t have to resort to living in filth. And yet, because it’s not the fucking Fairmont—

“It’s not fucking honest,” David hisses again, arms rigid by his side. “You know I like good things. This isn’t a secret; you make fun of me for it at least three times a week.”

Joe glares at David as he speaks, blood beating hard at his temples. The ice in his stomach spreads out, up and down through his ribcage, his armpits, his spine. He clenches his fists again, but no warmth remains there. He is frozen in place, watching as David says:

“I won’t apologize for it. I won’t. I won’t.”

“So what’s the plan, then?” Joe spits out. “Since things clearly aren’t working for you here, what now? Back to New York to beg?”

David’s entire body sags. His shoulders round up, his shirt creasing with the change of posture. Joe, eyes glued onto David’s, is vaguely aware of David’s hands seeking refuge in his pockets. The ice in his chest climbs up, warming, until it boils over the apple of his cheeks and the back of his neck. Still, he stays silent. Watches as David takes an open-mouthed breath, then sighs.

“They’d never take me back,” he says, but this time instead of the flippant thing he’d said on the phone, it comes out quiet and defeated.

It must have been someone from there, Joe realizes too late. Someone calling this other guy named Kenyon to convince him to abandon some kind of lark and come back home. No one in Easy ever really cared to know anything about David beyond his arrogant pride in his Harvard days. Even Joe didn’t ask about it until after the war was over, and getting to know David didn’t feel like volunteering for more scars when he inevitably dropped.

“Exactly,” Joe says, reining in the tension in his voice as best as he can, “so forget about them.”

David scoffs, then turns away from Joe, head leaning back again. Joe listens to the way he breathes in deep, watches the rise and fall of his shoulders. Hears the roughness of his throat when he says:

“You’re not being fucking fair.” Joe hates how quiet he sounds. “You still have your family. I’ve got nothing.”

“You don’t have nothing,” Joe retorts immediately, and flinches when David snorts.

“And what if you get tired of this?” He asks, twisting his head until he can glare at Joe with one withering eye, the apple of his cheek glinting in the slice of afternoon sun that makes it through the kitchen. “What do I have, if I don’t have you?”

David turns away again, breathing in deep. For a moment, Joe watches him. What does David have, outside of him? He’s been here two years. His things are all over the apartment. Joe’s family has almost never set foot in it, and never without warning. And Joe, who is cruelly aware of the ocean that exists between knowing something in the abstract and knowing it for real, is very good at tidying David’s things away. He. Didn’t mean to come to…that. It’s just.

Joe got lucky. More than lucky: he got granted a miracle. He told his Ma about the way he looks at men when he was at his lowest, as a last ditch effort to severe the only tenuous link he still had to sanity and the outside world. Thought that, with that done, he’d finally have the fucking guts to end it all. Instead, he finished explaining and found himself engulfed in his Ma’s arms, head pillowed on her bosom like it had when he was a short and skinny kid, and the sound of her voice in his ears saying ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’ until he had no choice but to believe it. But even so. What if.

Funny, how Joe never really bothered with those two words, before the war. Oh, he’d had plenty awareness of the consequences of his actions. If this, then that. Simple. But ever since Tipper stepped out of that house in Carentan, it’s been what if. What if it were me, what if I’d gotten there sooner, what if Web gets bored, what if Ma changes her mind. What if. And now, here David is, with the same two words stuck in his hands like shrapnel.

Joe looks at him. At the breadth of his back, and the way his shoulders stopped heaving. At the hair that’s starting to get too long at his nape, and the slippers he never fucking puts back on the shoe rack. At the blotchy flush of his nape, and the spot of skin behind his ears that is Joe’s favorite place in the entire world. Joe looks at David, knows the same things he knew yesterday, and the same he will tomorrow. He swallows, and makes himself say:

“You’re never gonna have nothing.”

David’s laughter at that leans a little too close to hysterical. Then, in something that’s almost a whimper, he says: “Joe.”

Joe steps up behind him, lacing his arms around his waist. He feels David’s hands come down and rest on his wrists, as light as a bird waiting to take flight. Then, he raises his nose just enough for it to rest on the spot behind David’s right ear, the one that smells of sweat, aftershave and the occasional dab of pomade. He squeezes David’s waist, just once, his heart pounding.

“You’re not gonna have nothing.”

The birds of David’s hands land more firmly on his wrists, anchoring themselves there as David leans back into Joe’s chest. They stay there for a long time, Joe alternating between nuzzling at David’s neck and placing kisses there, until David’s stomach growls and they’re both hungry enough that they end up eating sandwiches and cold cuts after all.

And the next morning, before David wakes up, Joe calls in sick from work, and drives to his Ma’s house to invite her over for Shabbat.

#Band of Brothers #Webgott #Joe Liebgott #David Webster #BOB Fic #Matt writes #Assbox Games #Featuring Mrs. Obradovic again bc I can #Actually you know what:#s: domestic post war webgott #15n #20n

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youneedsomeprompts · 1 year

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~ HANUKKAH ~ PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous

Feel free to use and reblog!

looking out for menorahs in the windows when walking the streets

singing together after lighting the menorah

playing dreidel

being overly excited when winning the dreidel

exchanging Hannukah gelt

"Mhm, you smell like latkes!"

having to peel a ton of potatoes to make fried food together

eating sufganiyot

unwrapping gifts together

hiding the matzoh

blessing the candles and fire

prayer of gratitude for the Hannukah miracle

prayer of gratitude for all joy in life

having family over

attending grand menorah lightings

playing card games

first time lighting their own menorah

having a real season of miracles

falling blissfully asleep with their belly filled with sufganiyot

relaxing completely when the candles are lit

#hannukah prompts #hanukkah prompts #chanukkah prompts #winter prompts #winter holiday prompts #writing prompts #prompt list #fluff prompts #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fanfic prompts #prompts #otp prompts #setting prompts #activity prompts #20 prompts

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the-slumberparty · 10 months

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July Monthly Challenge

Welcome to the Slumber Party’s monthly challenge for July 2023! This month’s challenge has a theme: Christmas in July.

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Joyeux Noël! Happy Hannukah! Blessed Kwanzaa!

Welcome to Christmas in July! This month, we’re challenging you to bring the heat to classic tropes and themes associated with the holidays and winter season. Don’t be mistaken, you don’t have to create a festive piece, you just have to use a typically festive element in your submission.

For this challenge, we will be accepting both written and visual pieces such as moodboards and edits.

Before we get started, we will go over the rules!

This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters but we ask that you do not include elements such as underage or bestiality.

Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

We hope that creators can create an inclusive work, but ask where that you tag where applicable character attributes coded into their submissions. ie, f!reader, poc!, etc.

We ask that the submissions not be a part of any existing series or works and be able to read as stand alone.

No more than 3 submissions per each type please (you may submit 3 written pieces and three moodboards). If you choose to submit a moodboard/visual submission with a drabble or fic attached, this will count towards both limits.

How does is work?

There is no sign up required.

There are no limits on how many people can use each prompt. You may use more than one in your work.

You do not need to be on our writer’s list to join, but if you would like to be added in our updated (currently in progress) list, we would be more than happy to include you! Send a dm to either of the admins listed in the bio.

Submission deadlines will extend to August 4th for late submissions. A masterlist will be created and all works will be reblogged here.

Be sure to tag @the-slumberparty and use the tag #navy and roo’s sleepover so we can read and see your works.

See below the cut for common tropes centered around traditionally festive fics. You must incorporate at least one into your piece.

Lumberjack

Cabin Getaway

Family Gathering

Caught in a Storm

Sitting by the Fireplace

Mysterious Gift

Home for the Holidays

Home Decorating

Cuddling for Warmth

Power's Out

Baking

Old Friends Meet Again

Fake Relationship

Found Family

Alone on the Holiday

#navy and roo's sleepover #writing challenge #creator challenge #monthly challenge

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the-knightmare · 4 months

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For the first day of @roudiseshipweek prompt family, have a slice of The Apple of my Pie.

Also on A03

“The Apple of my Pie?” Teddy asked, eyeing the sliced pie under the glass case that sat on the corner of the counter.

“Comes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream,” Louise answered. She tried to hide how eager she was for Teddy’s approval, but her fingers nervously tapped at notepad she used to take orders.

It had started with her taking home economics in grade eight. Louise figured it would be an easy class that required no actual work. Instead, Ms. Fraser, who Wagstaff had hired the year before, actually expected something from her students. Louise had fumbled her way through a unit on basic sewing but found her footing when it came time to learn how to cook.

Sure, having a dad that owned a restaurant and loved to cook, she expected to have some useful skills. What she hadn’t expected was how much she had enjoyed their first baking assignment. Not only that, but how well her chocolate chip cookies had turned out.

And then the snickerdoodles, which Rudy had promptly devoured before they could bring any home. Which, paired with his compliment, made Louise’s chest feel both warm and too tight at once.

Louise had thought it was a fluke. Cookies were easy. And so were the biscuits, cakes, and pies they were tasked to make. Even if Andy and Ollie had regularly produced items that were simultaneously burnt and raw, Jessica’s was too dense, and Rudy’s a touch too bland.

Baking was so easy that Louise just kept doing it after she finished the class. Birthdays, Christmas, even one Hannukah where Rudy had her help him with his grandmother’s recipes, any excuse to lose herself in flour and sugar.

Now, three years later and with an eyeroll worthy food handlers’ course behind her, Louise had her first weekend special on display. Her father had been the one to ask if Louise wanted to try selling a special dessert on weekends.

“We’d pay you for it, uh, maybe not enough for a car, but as a bonus on top of your regular shifts.” Her dad had cleared his throat then, and Louise realized he was fighting emotions as he added: “I always dreamed one of you would work with me some day.”

Snapping back to the present, Louise wrote down Teddy’s order of one burger of the day (Hamburger to the Slaw-ter, comes with apple slaw) and one slice of pie.

Her nerves were put to a temporary rest as Teddy devoured his warmed slice and asked for one to take home. Her father’s regular was one of two people Louise needed to like her first featured dessert. The other, who would only be able to show up late today because of pre-concert band practice, was her best friend, Rudy. Though that title seemed to be getting hazy the older they got.

They still did all the same things they did as kids: pull pranks, play games, watch movies, go on adventures, but their solo ventures seemed to have something lingering under the surface. Louise did not like thinking about this though, and just chalked it up to weird teenage existentialism over their impeding adulthood. Or something like that.

Definitely not that the older they got, more Louise came to terms with liking boys, that she realized that she imagined them together whenever she thought about her hypothetical marriage.

These thoughts were flung far from her mind by the busy lunch rush. It seemed that news of their new specialty sweet, paired with their growing social media presence, was paying off.

Checking her phone between customers, Louise found no new texts from Rudy. Which meant that he was still practicing. And not yet here to try what she made. The lunch rush slowed, leaving half the pie in its glass case.

Still enough for when he showed up. Cause he would show up. Rudy wouldn’t bail on her without saying anything. Not even when Chloe Barbash, who played second clarinet, could sweep in and distract him in the way teenage boys often were in Tina’s favorite movies.

The chime of the door opening broke her out of her thoughts of strawberry scented distractions. The first customers of the dinner rush were coming. Today was shaping into a busy one. Which Louise was grateful for, busy hands meant a busy mind after all, until she noticed Tina plating the last slice of pie towards the end of the evening.

And Rudy still had not come in yet.

Disappointment pooled in her stomach as she watched as that slice of pie was set in front of a customer. She should’ve been happy her pie had sold out. Happy that people were asking if there was anymore in the back. But all she could think about was Rudy not showing up. She didn’t get any texts telling her he was delayed or had a change of plans, so Louise concluded he must have forgotten.

It was a thought that stung more than Rudy not liking her creation.

“Not important, things happen,” Louise muttered to herself as she bussed the now empty tables after closing.

“What was that dear?” her mom asked.

“Nothing,” Lousie answered. And it was nothing. Rudy rarely flaked on their plans, so whenever he pulled a no-show Louise forgave him. Even when this meant a lot to her, she wouldn’t make much of fuss.

“Oh, all right then.” Her mom said, sounding unconvinced, “Let me finish up down here so you can get that pie you saved for us in the oven. Ooh, I’ve been thinking about it all day so I wouldn’t steal some today.”

Louise laughed as she handed the full tray to her mom and headed towards the door. As she locked the restaurant behind her, a familiar wheeze sounded behind her.

“Sorry Louise…practice went late…had to run all the way here…” Rudy panted between wheezes.

“Oh no, I’m too late, aren’t I?”

Any hurt feelings melted at the sight of her friend, red faced and bent double, outside her home. His timing, while slightly off, still brought him to an opportunity dine at the Belcher residence, if he chose to accept a last-minute invitation.

“Too late for a burger and pie,” Louise agreed, “but not too late for a Gene Special followed up with Louise’s apple pie with ice cream and homemade caramel sauce.”

Rudy’s head shot up, a smile on his face. He pulled out his phone and began typing out a message before pausing.

“You sure? Isn’t a Gene Special a family thing?”

Louise shrugged. Usually, whenever Gene’s night to cook came up, it was on a night they didn’t have guests over. It wasn’t a hard and fast rule, just something that protected their friends from Gene’s more creative food pairings. Tonight’s chicken vindaloo pot pie with a garlic naan crust was a tamer offering, though the spice level may leave Rudy coughing.

“Well, I guess you’re part of the family now,” Louise said ignoring the way Rudy’s cheeks flushed, “no escaping it now.”

“Cool,” Rudy said, following as Louise opened the door to the apartment, “does that make Gene my brother-in-law or something?”

“That means you’d have to marry Tina or I, and I know Tina’s spoken for already.”

“Hmm,” was all he said, and it was Louise’s turn to have her cheeks glow red.

“Hey Louise, and Rudy! Are you here for a helping of the Gene Special?” Gene called, spotting the two as they entered the kitchen.

“Yup. Louise invited me if that’s alright?”

“It is, but do your parents know?” Her dad asked from where he was hovering over Gene’s progress, “I don’t want your parents to worry.”

“Already told them,” Rudy said.

Dinner, despite Louise’s thought that curry and pot pies did not go together, went much better than Gene’s first ‘special’ of baked potato lasagna. Especially when it was followed up with her apple pie, warm from the oven, topped with ice cream and caramel sauce.

After dinner, Louise convinced Rudy to stay for a movie, which they were allowed to watch together in her room with the door open.

“If I can have pie like that every Saturday, then I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

Rudy’s comment broke through Louise’s focus on the screen, and she cast a glance at him in the dim light. He wasn’t looking at her, his hands on the bed at his sides, and Louise reached over and laced their fingers together.

“Maybe we wait ten years before the proposals,” she said nonchalantly.

Her heartbeat skipped as Rudy squeezed her hand. Smiling, she squeezed back.

#roudise #roudise week 2023 #louise belcher #regular sized rudy #bobs burgers fanfic

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darkhorse-javert · 4 months

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A Shove in the Right Direction

Belated Happy Hannukah/Early Happy Christmas/ Happy (nearly solstice)

Have a present of Andrew at Debden getting bit of a mental reset, courtesy of his mother.

Hibernating idea unearthed by this prompt, thanks @writing-prompt-s

#foyle's war #foyle's war fanfiction #andrew foyle #is an Idiot (not always affectionately meant)#Fix-it #ep:Invasion #episode fix-it #dickens-esque

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up-to-some-good · 4 months

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Traditions (3/9)

Happy Hannukah! I know I'm a little late, but as it's the last night of Hannukah, I wanted to post this. I am not Jewish, but I have tried my absolute best with this fic. If you're Jewish and you see something I should change, please comment or send me a message!

Previous Part

Next Part

20 December 1973

Remus was sick and, for the first time in a while, it had nothing to do with the lunar calendar. Hogwarts had been overrun with Dragon Pox, the virus spreading amongst the student population like wildfire. Only those who had had it before - and a few lucky ones with natural immunity - were safe. Christmas break was set to start tomorrow, but classes had mostly been cancelled for the past week due to the volume of sick students.

Sirius was sulking. He knew that he was being selfish, that Remus was too sick to do things like baking gingerbread and reading poetry, but he was going home in two days and had been looking forward to having some holiday fun beforehand. So he was sulking. James and Peter were outside, having fun on the snowy grounds, whole Sirius lay upside down in an armchair in the common room, alone.

Green eyes and freckles appeared in his eyeline, pulling him out of his thoughts. Lily had sat down on the floor in front of him and was staring at him imploringly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's selfish."

"Naturally. What's wrong?"

The pair had managed to develop a tentative friendship over the past year, something James was supremely jealous of. They both knew what it was like to be an outsider in their own home and a bond had slowly formed over late nights sipping tea by the fire, complaining about their respective siblings.

Sirius sighed and abruptly sat up so he could join Lily on the floor, the blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy after being upside down for so long. He leaned against his chair as he spoke, stretching his legs out beside her.

"Remus is sick," he started. "And I'm worried for him, don't get me wrong, but I'm also upset that we won't get to do our Christmas traditions this year."

"Your Christmas traditions?" Lily prompted.

"We make a gingerbread house every year. And then last year he read me a poem his mom always read to him. It's become a thing between us. Every year, he introduces me to something new. Something fun."

"Christmas not normally fun for you?" Lily asked, somewhat knowingly.

"Blacks don't have fun."

Lily sighed and leaned back for a moment, staring imploringly at her friend. She then stood up abruptly and reached out towards him.

"Well, it's not Christmas," she said. "But it is the first night of Hanukkah, and it's about time to light the candles."

She looked out the window at the sun, which was just about starting to set.

"I'll show you something new this year."

On the stairs up to the girls dorm (which strangely let Sirius up despite turning into a slide for any of his dormmates), Lily told him about Hanukkah. She told him about the Maccabean revolt and the miracle of the candle which burned for 8 days, and the traditions of the holiday.

Upstairs, he watched silently as she set up the menorah near her bed and lit the first candle. He listened to her melodic voice reciting the blessings and sat with her in silence when she was finished, waiting for her to initiate the conversation.

"At home, it's a bit of a bigger event," she said quietly. "My mom makes latkes and sufganiyot, and my gran comes over every night for dinner. Back when Tuney still spoke to me, we'd play all the games together, sometimes with our cousins when they were visiting. It's always a bit hard, being at Hogwarts. They don't observe Jewish holidays, so I've had to miss exams and assignments sometimes for the high holidays. The December break doesn't always line up with Hannukah either, so I've always had to celebrate alone. I don't know if there are other students doing the same, I've never asked, but it's quite peaceful, so I don't mind so much."

"It's beautiful, Lily," Sirius said. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

#sirius black #lily evans #marauders fic #lily/sirius friendship #they have my heart #hannukah #and accurate hannukah dates because I am pedantic

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