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feverinfeveroutfic · 5 months

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hanukkahbingo 2023

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: alone in the dark, chapter five : “Shadow of a Thousand Dead” Author/Artist Name: josiebelladonna Fandom: Testament (Band) Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Alex Skolnick (and how) Bingo Squares Being Filled: latkes, applesauce, sour cream, anti-assimilation, smashing fascists 🔥 Rating: Mature Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Link to Work: x @aimmyarrowshigh

I awoke to the gray light of the morning outside, and the feeling of a warm little body right next to me in the bed. For a second, I believed that I had woken up back home in the safety of my bed and with my girlfriend in my arms. But the feeling only lasted for a second, and I remembered that I was in the grandparents’ house, and it was Christine had nestled up against me like a little teddy bear. I ran my hand down the middle of her spine to the band of her pajama pants: the thought still lingered in the back of my mind, the one that told me to keep my hands off her lest someone in her family find out about it at some point, whether it came about after I left or not.

She groaned in her throat as she buried her head right into my chest. Her hands had found their way down onto the seat of my pants for a good feeling: every so often, her fingers pulsated on me for a little squeeze. Whenever she did it, I curled my toes and snickered. The feeling was new to me, and I couldn’t help but feel tickled by it.

She gave me a squeeze, and I chuckled a little louder that time.

I knew the rain had died down a bit, so I could be heard in there, but I wanted her in particular to hear me, though.

“Like squeezing a ripe avocado,” she whispered. “A nice, full, round, sweet, delicious little avocado—” She squeezed me again, and I rolled away from her enough to where her hand rested on my hip. I looked on at her and the tip of her tongue tucked into the corner of my mouth. “You have such a nice butt,” she remarked.

“If you like my butt, then surely you like my belly, too,” I told her as I ran my fingers through my hair and pushed my head down into the pillow so she could see the edge of my jaw and the side of my neck as well.

“Beautiful neck,” she remarked in a low voice. “Very beautiful neck.” She inched closer to me with her fingers up to my neck for a little stroke.

“Don’t tell me you have a fancy for necks, too,” I quipped to her.

“For yours,” she retorted back to me; she pushed her head in closer to the side of my neck for a soft kiss on the side.

“Ooh, that feels good,” I noted.

“You like that?” she whispered into my ear.

“I love it so much—more—more—” She kissed me some more, right on the tender spot right on the spot between the nape and the edge of my shoulder. Her lips were soft, and she touched me with such delicacy that to compare it to the tips of feathers would just cheapen it.

“I love how sensual you are,” I said to her.

“It’s funny, I don’t think of myself as such,” she confessed right into my ear. She buried her nose and lips back into the side of my neck, which only made me relax even more. The rain may have died down a bit, but I was feeling so cozy.

“I really don’t want to leave this bed,” I confessed to her.

“And I don’t want you to leave, either,” she whispered to me. Her hand slid down my chest and down onto my belly, and I realized that I had slept without a shirt on all this time.

“You should wear those leather pants again,” she suggested.

“Wear them after I eat all of the gelt, the latkes, the rugelach, the kreplach, and the sufganiyot and the waist band is so tight after that?” I teased her.

“Wear them after you eat all of that, and you also get tied up in lace and latex, too,” she added with a little flick of her eyebrows.

“I’m kind of intrigued by this whole… thing that you’re into,” I confessed to her. “It’s interesting and I find it tickling me whenever I think about it, too. Wanting to see me with a little extra weight on my body to the point I have a little belly going.”

She hung over me so her short red hair dangled down over the side of her head and face, like a little cherry wave from a primordial ocean. Her eyes twinkled from the mere suggestion of it all. Not only had she woken something in me, but I had a hunch that I had woken something up in her. She licked her lips and ran her fingers through her short hair so I could see her whole face.

“And it’s hanging over the belt of your pants, too,” she quipped with a slight gyration of her head. “I wanna feed you and feel you and keep you all to myself. I want to hide you in the closet and sneak you out when my mom isn’t looking.”

I cracked her a playful little smile at the sound of that.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” I remarked, and my voice broke with sleep. “But I have to keep a life of my own or I’ll wither away. My parents will be worried sick about me.”

“But we’ll take good care of you, though,” she promised me. “We’ll tell your parents that we’re taking good care of you, especially when you have very little places to go after this.”

“That is… so, so sweet, Christine,” I told her with a slight shake of my head upon the pillow. She leaned into my face for another kiss, that time on my lips. I thought about what she had told me the night before, in that she would want to kiss me all the time, and that was all I could think about, as well.

She lifted up and gazed straight into my eyes, and a rich warmth swept over me like the wave of hair upon her head. She licked her lips and ran her fingers through my hair, the little ringlets on the right side, right underneath the streak. I showed her the tip of my tongue and rested my hands upon my chest.

“I want you to say it,” she whispered to me, and I caught the sound of the rain on the roof once again, albeit at a rather soft pace.

“Say what?” I asked her.

“That you’re sexy,” she replied.

“That I’m sexy?” I chuckled.

“You’re really sexy,” she confessed as she tucked a stray ringlet behind my ear. “I swear, if you my age, I would want to be with you all the time. If you were my age, I would have my hand tucked into your back pants pocket just so I could feel your nice little ass.”

I raised my eyebrows at her.

“Would you?”

Christine brought her lips to mine again, that time with a bit more spice and a bit more force as well. She had a hold on me, an absolute death grip on me, like the blizzard over the Rockies. She was making the feelings inside me swell like the cold waters which gathered around the property and the base of the hill. I couldn’t help but let my chest rise up from the feeling. My heart pounded inside of my chest, and she held onto the sides of my face with nothing more than the tips of her fingers.

She let go and gazed into my eyes again. My head spun and my heart hammered inside me. I could feel myself firming up in between my thighs, and all I could do was lay there with my eyes locked onto her.

“You look so good,” she cooed to me with a sweet smile on her face.

“This is—so good,” I gasped out, and I had no idea what came over me right then. “Kiss me—please, Christine, kiss me. I need it, and you need it. Kiss me and feel me. I want you to feel my hair, too. I need you. I need to feel you.”

“And I need to feel you—” she whispered back to me.

She kissed me again, that time with that same force as well as her hand tucked in at the back of my head: her fingers entwined around the roots of my hair and she gave me a little tug at the back. She moved her lips down to the side of my neck for another tender little kiss. I closed my eyes and rested my hand on the small of her back.

She lay down on top of me, and I could feel her heart was pounding as well. I lifted my fingers off her back just so she was the one feeling me.

I gave myself to her.

It was all I needed, the feeling of someone loving me and nourishing me, and I couldn’t believe that I was going to have to leave it all behind me at one point. The feeling was silky and soft, and it only left me feeling even warmer than I had the mere few hours before then.

Christine rested her knee on the side of my hip, as if she was grounding me right there in the bed.

For a second, I had forgotten everything that brought me up to that point. I had forgotten about all the times I was up on stage with a leather vest and I left it open for everyone to see my skin and the hair on my chest. Right as I thought that, she ran her fingers down my chest. She stroked the fine little sprigs of hair with nothing more than the tips of her fingers. It was as if she had read my mind and knew exactly where to touch and feel me.

Most of all, I had forgotten my ex. In fact, I forgot I even had an ex to begin with: all I knew about was Christine, her precocious power and passion. She lightly caressed me and held me, as if we had known each other for far longer than a mere twelve hours. She nestled down next to me, and she used my body as her pillow. I was her rock right then. I was her crutch, and I was more than happy to be that for her as well.

She never did stop kissing me as well, even after she lay back down next to me with her hand rested upon the side of my neck.

“Oh, that was wonderful,” I breathed out to her as she lightly stroked the hair at the very top of my head. “Where did you learn to make out like that?”

“All of the times that I made out with my hand,” she replied. “I also thought about the times I considered making out with my ex, too.”

“He would have been so lucky,” I confessed to her. She sighed through her nose at that, and I rolled my head over the top of the pillow for a better look into her eyes and the wistful look in them. “He would have been so—so lucky,” I repeated, that time in a low whisper of a voice.

“By the way, I love how your voice gets all husky and soft whenever you feel good,” she noted.

“It does?”

“Oh, yeah. It almost feels like you're whispering a secret to me. It also helps that you and I are laying in bed together, too. I notice you talking like that last night.”

“Well, 'cause there's no power in the house. Anything we say or do is going to be heard, and I remember you telling me just that last night, too.”

“Sound travels in this house as if the walls are made of copper tinfoil,” she replied with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “And by the way, I also love how warm you are, too.”

“It's what I get for being a soft boy, eh?” I joked to her.

“You are soft!” she replied with a little tap of the tip of my nose, and then she put her arm around my waist. “Very soft, indeed.”

“Christine?” Wendy's voice floated in from the hallway right then. Christine herself meanwhile, closed her eyes and sighed again.

“Is the door closed?” I asked her in a low voice.

“Yeah, it is...” With a groan, she let me go and sat up in the bed next to me. She climbed out of the bed by the time her mother called her name once again.

“Yeah?” she called out.

“Where are you?” Wendy followed up.

“In here!”

“Where?”

Christine reached for the bedroom door and flung it open, and right as I was getting out of bed as well. Luckily for the both of us, she only had to adjust her pajama pants where I had to fix everything on me in order to appear decent. I hoped to whatever that her mother did not get the wrong idea about us, and especially about me—

“Oh, there you are!” Wendy declared as she strode up to the doorway. “I didn't see you in your room and I wondered if you and Alex had gone out walking together.”

“No way,” I assured her as I slid my legs out from under the covers; I cleared my throat as I thought of an excuse right as she walked on up to the door. “I was telling Christine when she came in here a little bit ago that I didn't want to leave this bed because it's so warm and it's all so cold in here, too.”

“It really is! Is that why the door was closed?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Christine assured her with a nod. “I came in here earlier and he was like 'close the door! It's freezing in here!' and so I did.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“What time is it, by the way?” I asked Wendy.

“It's seven thirty,” she replied. “But I was going to ask you kids if you wanted some coffee from the market a few blocks from here.”

“Ooh, I definitely would,” I said as I rubbed my hands over my upper arms. I turned my attention to Christine. “Have you seen my shirt?” And she shook her head. I peered over to the desk on the other side of the room, where I spotted my coat but not my shirt, however.

“Maybe you oughta go without the shirt,” Wendy suggested. “You know, just wear your coat over your body and have nothing more than your pants, too.”

“Yeah, and with my hair down like this, I'd look like Michael Hutchence,” I said with a chuckle, but I decided to do just that regardless of my own insecurity, though. I slung the coat around my body and ran my fingers through my hair.

“So hot,” Wendy remarked with a little twinkle to her eye. It apparently ran in the family as I had a hunch that she liked me as well. I didn't really want to dig deep into that because I knew that she and her husband were separated but not properly divorced: I needn't have that on my conscience as well. Nevertheless, I followed the two women out to the hallway, which was still somewhat dark despite the sun having risen up and the fact that we no longer needed hurricane lanterns and candles as far as I knew.

I fixed the lapels of my coat and took a seat at the kitchen table: I moved my coat around so only the top part of my chest was exposed to the two of them as well as the grandparents. My own freedom aside, they needn't see me like this, and not when there was a lot to do in that house to serve as a proper distraction, either. I kept my left hand tucked into my pocket to keep my coat closed off, and my right hand rested upon the table before me, and I watched Wendy put on her boots and her jacket as well before she headed out to the rain.

“It's not that far,” she assured us with a shake of her head. “I'll be right back.”

“We'll be here,” I promised her with a little smile; she scooped up her keys and ducked out to the rain, which still fell in utter droves out there. I was curious if there was any sort of flooding down the road from us as well. I then turned to Christine, who took her seat right next to me: her red hair seemed to shimmer under the gray light, and I couldn't recall her skin appearing that creamy smooth, either.

“We got anything to nosh on?” I asked her.

“Nosh?” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah. Like something to eat before breakfast, or before your mom comes back with the coffee. Don't tell me you haven't noshed before.”

“I've noshed, I've noshed,” she insisted with a nod of her head, and then she sauntered over to the table and rested her hands on the edge furthest from me. She leaned forward so I could only see a small window of her chest right then.

“Nice try,” I told her, and she glanced down at her chest.

“Nice try what? You don't like what you see here?”

“You need a top with a lower neckline,” I said with a straight face. “I do like it, but... if you're going to do that, wear a top with a lower neck, though. You know, I want to see more of the boobs, not just a tiny little peek the size of my thumb. Besides—” I took a glance over my shoulder to the gray shadows right behind me: her grandparents were still sound asleep in the room at the far end of the hallway; I remembered we had to put the screen back onto the window near the back door as well. I then returned to her, still with a straight face. “I'm a leg man.”

“You're a leg man?” she asked me with a grin. “Well, why didn't you say so?”

She hoisted her left leg up onto the chair next to me and lifted up the bottom of her pajama pants, to which I giggled at her.

“Hey, now, you gotta have the proper clothing,” I said.

“I'm in proper clothing!” she insisted as she rolled it up to her knee.

“Nah, you need like fishnets or something to accentuate all of this...” I gestured to her, and then I let my eyes wander onto her, onto the curvature of her lower legs as well as her ankles. I was a bastard for thinking about it, but I pictured her in shorts, and I had a feeling she was going to do something for me before our time was up here at the house.

“Question,” I started again, and I kept my voice low again lest her grandparents hear us in there.

“Hm?”

“Do you have any pedal pushers?”

“Pedal pushers, like... capri pants?”

“Not really,” I said with a shake of my head. “They're kinda fitted and they only go to your knees. They're—dare I say—hot. They're quite hot.”

“Like you and that coat of yours?” she teased me back, and I gave my hair a little toss back with the flick of my head. I let the coat sling open so she could see more of my chest.

“I guess you could say that,” I told her with a little shrug of my shoulders.

“You guess? You guess or you know?” She pressed her hands to her hips, and she straightened out her spine so her chest was so prominent right before me.

“Man, your mom wasn't exaggerating, you do have a thing for me,” I teased her, and she giggled at that.

“What, did you think that those kisses I gave you were all lies?” she retorted back to me.

“I never said that,” I assured her with a shake of my head, and I couldn't resist laughing, either. It had been quite some time since I had a playful debate like this with someone else, let alone a girl, that I could not help but laugh to myself.

“But you did imply it, though!” she insisted, and she began laughing as well.

“What do you mean? That I have some sort of secret that I'm harboring for you?” I ran my fingers through the ringlets on the side of my head.

“You could be,” she teased me, and she set her foot back down on the floor so she stood before me like Wonder Woman.

“Like what?” I asked her as I leaned back in the chair, and I let the coat open up for her to see all of me. Just like the leather vest up on stage with Testament.

“Maybe you like me,” she answered.

“Of course I like you,” I quipped to her. “I mean, that should be obvious. I mean...” I glanced over my shoulder again, and then I returned to her. “I let you kiss me and sleep in my bed with me.”

“Hey, now, I didn't just kiss you but I also held you and rubbed that little belly of yours.” She wagged her finger at me as if she was lecturing me.

“Plus, you've been flirting with me and looking at me all wide-eyed this whole entire time. I mean, it's no secret to me.”

“Back up, I thought this was about you, not me,” she chided.

“Yeah, it is,” I replied with a straight face. “It just makes sense to bring you into the fold because you're the one doing all of the action.”

“What, you're passing the buck onto me?” she asked me with her hand pressed onto her chest.

“Yes. Yes, I am! You came onto me, not the other way around.”

“Ah, but you let me come onto you,” she quipped with another wag of her finger. “It's not all about me, after all.”

“I think it is! You wanted to get close to me because your mother was right and you have a thing for me.”

“And you don't have a thing for me?” she demanded with a flutter of her eyelashes and a slight raise of her head.

“I never said I don't,” I assured her as I ran my fingers through my hair again, and I couldn't resist the smile on my face. She cocked her head to the side, and she stepped on closer to me, and all the while, her hands never lifted off from her hips. She stood right before my knees, and I wanted to know what exactly it was that she thought right then. I nibbled on my bottom lip, while she ran her tongue along her top row of teeth.

“You really do look like Michael Hutchence,” she told me, and I gave my hair a quick flip with the flick of my head.

“I'm not as good of a singer as him, though,” I pointed out.

“You ought to be,” she suggested. “I can just imagine you singing with this really sexy, really husky baritone, all dressed up like this, too. You'd make my teenage dreams come true in a hot flash.”

“Well, I'd have to take singing lessons and really step into my own, neither of which are a walk in the park, especially the last one. Ever since my breakup and when I left my band, it's been a tall order to try and find my footing, especially within myself.”

“Shall I help with that?” She stooped over before me and even though her chest wasn't all that exposed to me, I still let my eyes wander there. “Eyes up here, big boy.” She pointed to her face.

“'Big boy', that's something I haven't heard before,” I said to her, and I couldn't help but laugh again.

“You really never believed you were a big boy?” she teased me.

“Of course I did. I mean, I practically dwarf you and your mom, of course I know I'm big.”

“No. I mean... you really never believed you were a big boy?” She ran her tongue along her bottom lip again, and that time, she dropped her gaze to my body. I followed her gaze and I realized she was looking at my lap.

“Yeah, you, me, and my leather pants,” I told her; right as she glanced up, I flashed her a wink.

“Will you wear those again?” she asked me.

“Maybe. It depends.”

“It depends on what?”

“It depends on what you wanna do here while you're face to face with me. You wanted to help me find my footing.”

“Of course,” she replied, and she kissed the tip of my nose, which caught me by surprise. She giggled and showed me her tongue.

“Ah, yes, a nice game of 'kiss the schnoz',” I said with a straight face, and she burst out laughing at that. She stood up before me for a second, and then she ran her fingers through her red hair.

“Man, and I thought I was saucy,” I muttered.

“It's funny 'cause I wasn't always like this,” she told me.

“Neither was I! It's like when we get together and everyone is still asleep, we bring out the—what we call in my family—chutzpah in each other.” She paused for a second, and then she gazed on down the shadowy hallway, and my heart skipped a few beats as a result. “Are your grandparents awake?” I asked her in a low voice close to a whisper.

“I don't think they are,” she confessed, also in a low voice. “I just thought they were.” She then returned to me with a flex of her eyebrows again as well as a slight twinkle in her eye. “Yeah, I guess we do bring out the—what'd you call it again?”

“Chutzpah. A bit of—” I stood up before her, still with the coat wide open for her to see the hair on my chest as well as my bare belly. “—walking around like you've got it and I want it. Or rather—” I pressed my hands to my hips. “I've got it and you want it.”

“Or perhaps I've got it and you actually want it,” she retorted back to me with a gentle stroke of my chest. She licked her lips at the feeling of my skin, and then she moved her hand back up to my chest hair. “You have really sexy chest hair. I didn't think I was all that enticed by a guy's chest hair, especially when my dad used to be all thick with it when I was little, but... here I am. Feeling attracted to chest hair.”

“Go ahead and touch me,” I insisted to her, and she used both hands to stroke me. She wound some of that hair around the tips of her fingers, which felt a bit better than her hands on my belly but I wasn't going to complain or split hairs.

“I like how it's just these cute little tufts all over your chest,” she remarked.

“Would you rather I have a full rug on my chest like that of a gorilla?” I asked her, and she wrinkled her nose and giggled at that.

“Nah, this is—this is kind of perfect, actually,” she confessed. “In fact, it's... it's making me all tingly.”

“It's making you tingly? It's making you tingly where?”

“You know where,” she replied.

“Oh, you mean—below the equator,” I said. “In the heart of the deepest pits of the Dead Sea.” And she snickered at that; right then, I caught the sound of her grandfather saying something.

“I think they're awake,” I told her, and she took her hands off of me and sniffed her palms. “Wow.” I raised my eyebrows at that.

“Would you rather I took my hands off of you and put them down my pants?” she retorted to me, and I nibbled on my bottom lip at that.

“I ain't telling you,” I quipped to her, and she giggled at that.

“So that was perfect is what you're telling me?” she asked me as I closed the top three buttons of my coat to have some modesty before her grandparents came into the room right then.

“It was interesting,” I said to her with a slight flutter of my eyelashes to her, and she snickered and sniffed her palms yet again.

“Mmm, smells like a boy,” she told me; she turned her head towards the hallway, and then she turned her body away from me, and I could only assume that her grandparents were coming down the hall. I sank back down to the chair while Christine made her way over to the sink: for a second, I believed she was going to wash her hands, but she got herself a drink of water instead.

The front door then swung open, and I was greeted by the smell of the rain as well as fresh coffee.

“Ah, the two best smells in the world right there,” I declared as Wendy nearly stumbled into the house; I strode on over to her to help her out with the cardboard carrier and the four cups of coffee: I noticed she held one in her hand as well.

“Phew—” Once the door was closed, she stripped her hood off her head and gave her hair a shake.

“Wet?” I asked her.

“Quite,” she replied. “I forgot to ask you how you like your coffee so I just got you a plain espresso.”

“Oh, that's okay! I like me some espresso.”

“It's the one closest to you, and I should also say that—” I raised my eyebrows to her. “The airport is still closed,” she told me. “The clerk in the store told me about it and I knew I had to tell you once I got back home. And I feel like it’s going to be closed for another day, too. I mean, it is just pouring rain right now, like I'm amazed there hasn't been flooding outside.”

I sighed through my nose, and I picked out my cup of coffee from the bunch before I set it down on the kitchen table for Christine and her grandparents. I then doubled back to the front door and I peered outside to the street as well as the drenched yard. What snow had fallen had completely gone at that point, and at least it wasn’t snowing again, but the sheer amount of rain that was falling out there only made me all the more concerned about how and when to get on home to my parents. It was Sunday, and the sands of the hourglass dwindled down with every passing second.

I had no idea if these people had a menorah on hand or any sort of candle that lit up with oil.

I couldn't stop thinking about it, either, such that I neglected to bide the grandparents with a simple good morning.

“So, if the airport is still closed for the next, say, couple of days, that means he misses the first night of Hanukkah with his parents,” her grandfather followed along, to which I sighed through my nose yet again. I sipped on the espresso, only to feel the first twinges of hunger within. I turned my attention to Christine's grandmother, who strode up next to me with her cup of coffee as well as a glass of water.

“Are there still mashed potatoes?” I asked her.

“Oh, yeah, there’s plenty,” she replied, and then her face lit up. “We want some of those potato pancakes, don’t we.”

“Yeah, we do,” I replied to her, and I could feel my own face growing warm.

“Well, once we've had a bit more coffee, we'll fire up the hot plate and slice up some onions and get the olive oil out, and we could have some latkes.”

“Do you have applesauce or sour cream, too? I like mine with either one.”

“I think we do!”

“And I think we do have some oil candles, too?” Wendy assured me as she strode on into the room from behind her. “We’re probably going to be lighting candles every night for the next couple of days, anyway. That is until they get the power lines fixed, and we aren’t relying on a hot plate and some open flames, as well. They’re these little white candles, too—I'm not sure, but I feel like they're like the ones you would see on a menorah.”

“Oh, perfect!” I said, and I turned my attention to the hearth on the other side of the room. Right in between the framed photographs of Wendy, Christine, and other members of the family as well as a small wreath of orange leaves, acorns, and pine cones, stood a blank spot that looked to be big enough for a row of candles for a makeshift menorah.

“Do you have nine?” I asked her. “A menorah has nine in order to be kosher: four on either side followed by the shamash in the middle, and it’s gotta be offset from the other ones a bit.”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “We could have the eight lined up on the hearth, and then the ninth one can be pushed back a little bit.”

“You're a guest in our house,” Christine's grandmother told me with a hand rested upon my shoulder. “The best thing we can do is make this place feel like home for a while.”

“Thank you,” I told her with a little bow of my head and a sip of my coffee. I then returned to the kitchen where Christine and her grandfather were in fact starting up the hot plate and gathering the potatoes out for the latkes. It wasn't going to be like those from my mom or my grandmother for that matter, but I wasn't going to turn them down for nothing, though.

There was in fact a jar of applesauce there in the kitchen, and I was eager to have a nice little plate for that morning as well as the cup of warm espresso. Once I had taken my seat on the couch in the living room to see how the makeshift menorah would look, for a second, I really did believe I was back home with my parents and my grandparents. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that I was a teenage boy again back at my family's house right outside of New York. No sooner had I sipped on my coffee again when I thought about calling my mother again to tell her what was happening.

And no sooner had I thought that when there was a knock on the door.

“I'll get it!” Wendy declared, and she doubled back past me to the front door. She opened it to reveal a short man with salt and pepper hair wrapped in a beige coat.

“Hello, dear,” he greeted Wendy, and all I could think about was Sir Anthony Hopkins right then.

“Kenny!” Wendy gasped.

“Dad?” Christine sputtered, and she stalked out of the kitchen to see what was the matter. Her grandfather followed suit with a plate of latkes and a bowl of applesauce for me.

“Here, son,” he told me. “Happy Hanukkah.”

“Thank you so much,” I whispered to him, and then he turned his attention to the front door.

“Oh, hello, Kenny, what’re you doing here?” he greeted him rather coolly.

“I got caught in the makeshift swamp right outside here, and I remembered that this is my in-laws’ house,” he said in a single breath, and he barged in like he owned the place. “Smells good in here, what's cooking?”

“Something that doesn't involve you,” Wendy scoffed as she closed the door part of the way to keep any more cold air out of the house; and then he turned his attention to me, to which he curled one side of his lip at me.

“Who’s this funny-looking little runt?”

“Kenny, he’s not funny-looking!” Wendy insisted; Christine slid next to me and hunkered closer to me. Kenny frowned at me and pressed his hands to his hips. I swallowed and shifted my weight. It had been some time since I had experienced something like this before, with my ex’s father looking down at me because of the streak on my head and the full bulbous tip of my nose, and the fact that I was eating latkes fresh off the griddle with a little bowl of applesauce to the side.

“You keep your hands off my daughter,” he warned me, and I swallowed at that.

“Dad, he’s a good guy,” Christine assured him, slightly heated.

“Alex is a sweet guy!” Wendy exclaimed.

“I’m just here because I can’t get home otherwise, sir,” I sputtered out, and I held my plate of latkes close to me.

“I hope that's all you're doing,” he told me in a curt voice.

“Alright, get out of here,” Christine's grandfather ordered him. “Until you start talking to my daughter again like a mature adult, I don't want to see you, I don't want to know you, I don't want to know anything about you.”

“One hand on my Christine and you're target practice for me,” he warned me with his finger right in my face.

“That's enough!” Wendy snapped, and she tugged him aside and escorted him back outside. I turned my attention to Christine, who then shook her head.

“I have no clue how he got here,” she confessed to me in a low voice.

“I don't think anyone does,” I assured her with a shake of my head. “I'm just glad he's out of here.” And she nodded at that. Wendy returned to the living room, whereby she shut the door behind her and locked it. She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a low whistle before she stood in front of the two of us.

“I'm so sorry,” Wendy told me, to which I shook my head. “Well, now you know why he and I are separated.”

“It's okay,” I assured her. “No, really! I've seen plenty of assholes in my day.” And she snickered at that. “The one thing that got me about him was it just totally caught me off guard is all. I also want to know why he was here, too.”

“How he got here, too,” Christine added.

“Yeah, that, too. Well, at least he didn't kill me. I can eat knowing that I survived it.” And with that, I took a bite of latke, and I nodded my head at that. “Oh, yeah, that's the stuff right there.”

#hanukkahbingo #hanukkah #hanukkah 2023 #jewish holidays #hanukkah bingo #alone in the dark #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #oc tag #also on ao3 #writing #text

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bugsandcoffee · 1 year

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It's a Miracle! [Stucky]

Bucky Barnes had always believed in miracles. He believed in them when he was a young boy and his father explained the miracle of Hanukkah to him. He believed in them each time Steve had been nearly dead and still pulled through at the last moment.

He believed in miracles now. He was surrounded by his friends and family. He and his husband lit their menorahs.

"Are you okay Buck?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded and smiled. "I have never been better."

This was a miracle. Bucky knew it for sure. He had survived. Just like Hanukkah, he survived. A miracle.

For the Hanukkah Bingo by @aimmyarrowshigh

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: It's a Miracle! Author/Artist Name: bugsandcoffee Fandom: Captain America/Marvel Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Bingo Squares Being Filled: H1 - Miracle Rating: General Warning(s): None Link to Work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43746997

#stucky #stevebucky #hanukkah bingo #stucky fic #jewish bucky barnes #jewish steve rogers #jewish stucky #a bug's creations #my fic

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aimmyarrowshigh · 10 months

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Is Hanukkah Bingo happening this year?

I'm planning on it! The prompt list will be posted in mid-October, as far as I'm planning now. :)

#hanukkahbingo #hanukkah bingo #hanukkah

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faygelehh · 5 months

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Chag Sameach from Bluey & Bingo! Happy Chanukkah! 🧡💙🕎✡️

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hanukkahbingo · 5 months

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!חג אורים שמח

It's the first night of Hanukkah and the first night of the Panfandom Hanukkah Bingo! We have a lovely selection of fics and fandoms already this year, and I'm so excited to see what else we receive in the next seven days!

Alone in the Dark by josiebelladonna/@feverinfeveroutfic | AO3 | tumblr

He found himself trapped out in the wilderness during a power outage, and his meeting with that one strange girl proved to be a stroke of fate for him. A fic that asks “what if Alex and Christine had met in another period?”

baby namings by aelisheva | AO3 | tumblr

"She's beautiful," the nurse coos, turning to a proud Seth and Summer. "What are you going to name her?"

Bring On the Light: Snowed In by melbelle310/@perfectpurls | AO3 | tumblr

Ace had hoped to make it home for the first night of Channukah, but when a blizzard rolls through town, he and Nancy have to make do in their apartment.

broken memory (of you and me and something) by JustGail/@evilwickedme | AO3 | tumblr

“I haven’t celebrated Hanukkah since I was a very small child. Younger than you.” Jason sat down on the chair he’d taken before. He was strangely restless and excited, but he still forced himself to say, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” “I already said I’m fine with Christmas,” Bruce said. “No, Hanukkah,” Jason said. He wouldn’t have been able to explain his stubbornness on the issue even to himself, let alone to Bruce. But he knew this is what he wanted this year. “I want… You don’t have to. But it looks nice.” // The first time Jason celebrated Hanukkah, and the first time Bruce celebrated Hanukkah in oh… two decades at least.

Eight Nights by genuineformality/@genuineformality | AO3 | tumblr

On the first night of Chanukah, Viktor lights a chanukiah for the first time in a long time. On the subsequent nights, Viktor and Jayce explore a lot of complicated feelings.

Generations by Hollie47/@hollie47 | AO3 | tumblr

Amanda is more than happy to have Spock and Jim home for Hanukkah.

H1. Dreidel - Scott Lang by aimmyarrowshigh/@aimmyarrowshigh | AO3 | tumblr

Scott is a terrible winner.

H2. Judah Maccabee - Mike Wheeler by aimmyarrowshigh/@aimmyarrowshigh | AO3 | tumblr

They will outlive this.

H3. Music - Poe Dameron by aimmyarrowshigh/@aimmyarrowshigh | AO3 | tumblr

The gas giant of Yavin hangs low in the sky, red tendrils of almost-dawn unfurling in the sky above the Dameron ranch.

H4. Tradition - Pepper Ann Pearson by aimmyarrowshigh/@aimmyarrowshigh | AO3 | tumblr

Every year, Milo eats more than his fair share of latkes and spends the next three hours lying on the Pearsons' living room floor, moaning. Every year, Nicky brings over some concoction made primarily of beets, and maybe wheat germ. Every year, Pepper Ann thinks it's the best Hanukkah yet.

H5. First Night - Snap Wexley by aimmyarrowshigh/@aimmyarrowshigh | AO3 | tumblr

Everyone else can keep their Life Day celebrations. Snap prefers this.

Hopeless Situations by abby_gaytes | AO3 | tumblr

Russians don’t wear ugly holiday sweaters. But arguing with Marcus Cole’s infuriating, ineffaceable enthusiasm has always been a hopeless situation.

Keep a candle burning by dharmashark | AO3 | tumblr

Bucky has been sitting cross legged on the floor with Steve Rogers for three hours. He feels giddy on two donuts too many, his ribs tight and hot from laughing. But mostly he feels smug as hell: he cannot wait to tell Clint how wrong he was when said this was a terrible idea. Well, what Clint had actually said was, “Are you out of your mind? Steve, as in Steve, is going to spend Hanukkah with you, in your studio apartment?” — In which Bucky can totally, definitely last eight nights without falling for his childhood best friend. Again.

miracles happen (once in a while) by aelisheva | AO3 | tumblr

By some interdimensional Hanukkah miracle, two versions of Annabeth and Percy are able to meet. The older pair proceed to embarrass the two middle schoolers as much as they can.

Pretty Hanukkah Wrapping For A Even Prettier Pussy Cat. by IndigoSun/@sweetwithheatwriting | AO3 | tumblr

May Parker was well aware that there were countless Jewish people around the world who experienced a relatively mellow and very happy cozy Hanukkah with their family and a few friends every year. She didn’t get to experience that as a general rule of thumb. I mean, don’t get May wrong, she was definitely Jewish and got to celebrate Hanukkah with the joy and company that was supposed to come with it, except her typical Hanukkah was usually brimming over with the barely mitigated chaos that came with celebrating it with her family and dozens and dozens of her friends on the world saving spectrum, Peter, Erik Lehnsherr, and the memory of what kissing Kitty Pryde had tasted like and what her dark silken curls felt like in her hands as she shakily arched her back and pleadingly mewled at he- Well. May was a bit haunted in the best way by that. She might just end up getting the girl this year if the stars aligned and she stopped sabotaging herself.

season of miracles by BettyRose/@yellingabouthistory | AO3 | tumblr

Padmé Naberrie and Tsabin Dolan have been best friends since they were international pen pals in middle school, so it was a dream come true when Tsabin came to spend a semester at Padmé's college in America. But when Padmé brings her home for the holidays, people keep jumping to the wrong conclusion. Padmé definitely loves her best friend, but not like… loves-loves. At least, she's pretty sure. Okay, so she's… maybe not sure beyond a reasonable doubt. But that's not the relevant burden of proof, because having a friendly little girl crush isn't a crime! And Padmé would know, she's president of the Otelia College Pre-Law Society!

something has to give (but not today) by skylarkblue/@skylarkblue | AO3 | tumblr

Peter Parker is struggling to juggle his family responsibilities and his duty as Spider-Man.

That We Are Alive by americanhoney913/@americanhoney913 | AO3 | tumblr

Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu, v'kiy'manu, v'higiyanu laz'man hazeh. --- Shehecheyanu (Debbie Friedman melody) *** Eddie's whole family comes together to celebrate the first night of Hannukah with their newborn.

What Callie Kept by abby_gaytes | AO3 | tumblr

There are many things Callie Spengler was happy to abandon in her attempts to distance herself from the family and father who had caused her such pain in her life. Like her curly hair, and her briefly-budding interest in science, and her residence in New York City. But there are also a few things she kept - like her last name, and her Jewish identity, and the Hanukkah traditions she shared with Egon during their all-too-limited time together.

#hanukkahbingo #panfandom hanukkah bingo 2023 #round up 2023 #first night

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goodiecornbread · 1 year

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Hanukkah Traditions

This is my submission for PanFandom Hanukkah Bingo by @aimmyarrowshigh. It is also fan-art inspired by the SCFO fic I Love You a Lotke by FicsByABrokenChair (@mosxash)

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: Traditions

Author/Artist Name: goodiecornbread

Fandom: Schitt's Creek

Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): David Rose

Bingo Squares Being Filled: K1 - candles; N2 - family; K2- menorah; A5 - eighth night

Rating: G

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Link to Work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43414897

#hanukkahbingo #PanFandom Hunukkah Bingo #Hanukkah #Schitt's Creek #Fanart #fan art #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #menorah #schitt's creek frozen over #sc frozen over #Jewish #goodiecornbread #goodie does art

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noxsoulmate · 1 year

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❄️🎄 Welcome to Noxy's Tarlos Winter Season 🎄❄️

Ship: Tarlos | Fandom: 911 Lone Star | Author: noxsoulmate | Read on ao3

Word Count: 11755 | Rating: General Audience | Warnings/Tags: Christmas, Hanukkah, Christmas fluff, Hanukkah fluff, decorations, baking, fluff, domestic fluff, married couple, married life, hurt TK, Carlos takes care of TK, Jewish TK, family feels, family fluff, Andrea is the best, soft Carlos/TK, mention of addiction, cuddling & snuggling | Art made by: @chaotictarlos 💕 | written for @whenshereads ❄️

Summary:

After yet another stay at the hospital, the thing TK is most upset about is missing out on all he and Carlos had planned for their first Christmas-Hanukkah season as a married couple. He should’ve known better than to think his husband wasn’t prepared…

❄️🎄 Read on ao3 🎄❄️

This story was written for

@tarlos-santa, written for @whenshereads and the prompts:

Recovery fic with TK recovering and Carlos supporting (in hospital, follow-up therapy/appts) from one of his NDEs or a new one & First Hanukkah/Christmas together in the loft—Carlos reflecting on their journey and where they are headed

@tarlosmonthlyprompts December #2: “Is there a reason it looks like a Hanukkah and Christmas store throw-up in our loft?”

@tarlosweeklyprompts 12 Days of Tarlos: Decorating the Christmas Tree I Baking Holiday Cookies Together I Blending Traditions I First Holiday where they’re married

@mfbingo Christmas Edition Square 4: “You know the rules.”

@911bingo Square I1: Flood

Tagging List: @chaotictarlos, @detective-giggles, @sgirl18, @sapphire11, @bubblesandroses8, @first-kanaphan, @firstprince-history-huh, @beautifulhigh, @rangergurlgleek1211, @shadesofdeviant, @otter-love-asl, @tarlos-spain, @ramblingdisaster73, @tarlossource

If you want to be added to my tagging list, send me an ask or poke me on discord.

#tarlos #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #noxy writes #christmas #hanukkah #domestic fluff #tarlossanta22 #tarlosmonthlyprompts #tarlosweeklyprompts #mfbingo #911 bingo

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terresdebrume · 1 year

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Oh by the ways: thank you jews of Tumblr for allowing me to tell my students yesterday that Hanukkah is not, in fact, Jewish Christmas and is actually a (relatively?) Minor holiday

Sure my explanation of what it meant was basically "someone tried to kill them and the oil that was supposed not to last lasted a whole week and that's the commemorated event, go look at actual sources for more info" but that's way better than what I would have been able to provide even five years ago so... Party hat emoji for me 🥳

#Matt has a life #Shit from work #Just saw a thing go around for a Hanukkah bingo whoch is cool

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gayandtrashy · 7 months

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Got my panfandom Hanukkah bingo card! Can't wait to churn out some fun fics!

#panfandom hanukkah bingo

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erin-gilberts · 1 year

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It’s the first night of the team’s first Hanukkah together, and Holtzmann would never miss an opportunity to capitalize on all of the terrible holiday-related puns she can make.

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: The First Night Author/Artist Name: abby_gaytes Fandom: Ghostbusters (2016) Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Jillian Holtzmann, Abby Yates Bingo Squares Being Filled: H5 - First Night, H4 - Ugly Sweaters Rating: G Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Link to Work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43722096

Graphic + Hanukkah bingo by @aimmyarrowshigh!

Bingo roundup:

#hanukkah #hanukkah bingo #ghostbusters 2016 #ghostbusters answer the call #erin is talking

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feverinfeveroutfic · 5 months

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hanukkahbingo 2023

Fic or Art/Graphic Title: alone in the dark, chapter four: “Rainstorms” Author/Artist Name: josiebelladonna Fandom: Testament (Band) Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Alex Skolnick (and how) Bingo Squares Being Filled: snow and menorah Rating: Mature Warning(s): Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Link to Work: x @aimmyarrowshigh

I woke up at some point during the night when the soles of my feet had grown cold. The rest of me was toasty warm under the blankets, but at some point during the night, I had stuck my feet out from under the covers; I shivered as I rolled over onto my back and tucked my feet in under the covers. I had also fallen asleep with my hand down my pants as well, and there was something about that that I found particularly interesting.

I had fallen asleep jerking off to the thought of Christine. I had fallen asleep jerking off to the thought of Christine and the night before Hanukkah.

It was a very warm bed, and one that I wanted to lay in all night and into the morning hours as well. Oh, to lay in bed all day and not think about anything. It wasn't in me to do that all the time, but sometimes I just had the feeling.

And yet, I couldn't seem to fall back asleep. I opened my eyes and looked on at the dark wall before me.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

The snowstorm that pelted the Rockies and I knew that New York was looking at the same thing in a couple of days. As far as I knew, I was going to be sleeping in that bed for a couple of nights at the very least, at least until the airports opened and the planes picked up the pace again.

I sighed through my nose and rolled over onto my back again. The blankets cradled me while the comforter on top sealed the deal with me.

It was moments like that I wished I was back home and I missed getting a hug from my mom in particular. It was moments like that I felt like a young boy again. Then again, I was always going to feel like a young boy no matter how old I got to be.

I ran my hand up my belly and onto my chest. I was still feeling warm and full from dinner earlier, such that I rested my hand right on my stomach to better take in that warmth.

The night before the first night of Hanukkah and I was already feeling good.

I lay there for a second before I realized that the winds had died down a bit outside, but something else had taken its place. I opened my eyes again, and that time for a look over to the window. I still couldn't see outside, but I could hear it.

And yet, it was hard to tell if it was the real thing or something else.

I lifted my head but I never sat up all the way in bed: I didn't want to leave that warmth.

“Alex?” Her voice whispered to me, and I swore it was her.

How did my ex find me and what did she want from me, especially when she left me feeling so dry all this time. I hunkered down a bit in the bed as I thought about all the little dirty looks she would give me.

Why did I pick such a barren person to be with me for a short amount of time. But I did see the silhouette on the other side of the room. She did find me, the ghost that wanted me to stay with her even after we split. I could see her in the darkness, and especially once she flashed the light on into the window such that it jarred me a bit. I tugged the blankets up as if to hide, but then I recognized that head of red hair.

“Sorry, it looked like you were awake.”

“Jesus, Christine, don't sneak up on me like that. And yes, I've been awake for the past few minutes.”

She pointed the flashlight up to the ceiling so the room was filled with light. I lifted my head out from under the covers so I could better see her, all bundled up in a sweater and a blanket. Even though my body was warm, the tip of my nose felt like ice.

“What're you doing in here, anyways?” I asked her.

“I couldn't sleep,” she confessed. “I also just wanted to be in here with you, because... I kind of like you, Alex.”

I inched up in the bed so I could better see her, the shadows on her face and the reflection of the halogen light on her red hair.

“You do?” I asked her.

“Yeah. Mom wasn't exaggerating when she joked that I have a little thing for you. I like you. Don't know how much but I like you, though.”

A chill ran over me and I pulled the blankets back up over me.

“What time is it?” I asked her.

“I'm not sure,” she replied. “It's dark thirty, I know that much. You know, people are at their most honest after they've had a drink or two or when it's really late at night like this.”

“I'll definitely believe that,” I assured her, and the noise outside persisted. That wasn't snow. I may have grown up in the San Francisco Bay Area where snow wasn't all that common, but I knew it when I heard it, though.

“Is it raining?” I asked aloud, and Christine turned her attention to the window. She shone the flashlight onto the pane, where we made out the sight of pure water falling against the glass rather than wet heavy snowflakes.

“It is!” Christine replied. “It is raining!”

“It's raining after we had a bunch of snow,” I said. “Ho boy.”

“Good thing this place is raised up off the ground,” she told me, “and we're somewhat on a little slope, too. And I don't really know if we had a lot of snow before this, either.”

“I dunno, I saw the pavement quite literally turn white when we were coming home from dinner earlier,” I recalled. “And drifts were forming when we were coming from the airport, too. I feel like that's a good deal of snow. Then again, I'm from the Bay Area, we rarely get snow, even with how cold it gets this time of year.”

I sat up all the way and I leaned back against the wall on the left so my feet were near the edge of the mattress; I kept the blanket and the comforter over my body because there was simply no way I was going to go bare-chested right then, not without a heater switched on in the house. Christine took her seat right next to me, and she rested the flashlight on the nightstand, right up against the heavy brass lamp there to the side, all so we could have a single light there in the house. A single light in the darkness together.

“From the Bay Area, and yet you're flying out to visit your parents in New York,” she muttered.

“Yeah, exactly,” I said with a nod, and she turned around to better face me.

“There's a lot more to your story than I realize, Alex,” she noted.

“Always,” I told her. “There's always so much more to everyone than you might initially know about.” I ran my fingers through my hair, and she showed me a smile.

“What?” I asked her.

“I like this,” she remarked with a gesture to me. “The way the light is hitting you just right and the way that the covers are all around you like this. You look like you should be a model for a sexy magazine.”

“A sexy magazine?” I echoed her, and I chuckled at that; I had to keep my voice down even with the roar of the rain on the roof. Christine nibbled on her bottom lip, and she let her blanket fall onto the pillow as she stood up.

“Where are you going?” I asked her.

“Stay right there,” she advised me, and I did all while she left the room to fetch something. I nudged the covers away from my face so I could see her when she came back. I shivered from the cold of the room all around me: I hoped that the power would come back on soon as I had no idea as to how to put a handle on any of this in the meantime. Nevertheless, I let the edge of the covers rest in my lap as if I was in fact something of a specimen. I was going to be a model for her in whatever it was that she wanted to do with me: I may as well let my colors fly, and all for her.

I had no idea as to the time right then, but I was sure I could relish in it all as if it was daylight. The flashlight gave me enough light cast down from the ceiling to make it seem as though I had in fact found my way to the photoshoot for a magazine, everything down to the neon blue light all around me.

Christine returned to me with what appeared to be her grandfather’s camera cradled in both hands.

“Hold up, I thought you weren’t going to use that because it belongs to your grandfather,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, that was Grandpa’s camera,” she said with a straight face. “This is mine.”

I raised an eyebrow at that, but I wasn’t going to question it. It was early in the morning, and I was ready for her. But then she hesitated for a second.

“What’s that look for?” she asked me.

“You are a fascinating person, Christine,” I told her.

“Not as fascinating as you,” she teased me back in a singsong voice.

“Nah, you’ve got more than meets the eye in comparison to me,” I said. “Such that there’s a part of me that wants to photograph you instead.”

“Nah, I should photograph you,” she quipped back to me.

“No, I should photograph you instead,” I joked back to her, and I couldn’t resist the smile on my face, either.

“Here, let me be the one to photograph you,” she insisted.

“You really want this to be true?” I asked her as I ran my fingers through the mop of black ringlets at the crown of my head.

“I do, yes!” She licked her lips and showed me a playful little smile.

“Shall I—take this off?” I offered her with my hands on the edge of the blankets.

“Please,” she said in a low voice. With that, I nudged the blankets off of me and I leaned back to the wall with my legs open for her. It had been so long since I had let someone see me like this, especially with such lighting over me as well. In fact, when I thought about it, I realized that I had never actually been seen in this fashion before. Granted, there had been times with Testament whereby I stood up on stage with nothing more than my jeans and a leather vest, and I left the latter open to show off my chest and my belly, but that was about it, though. My ex never looked at me this way before.

Christine sank down to the floor into a crouching position with the camera up to her face.

“Do you have enough light?” I asked her.

“Oh, yes,” she assured me. She pushed the shutter button and a bright flash swept over me.

“Whoa,” I breathed out, and I rubbed my eyes.

“Yeah, I forgot to mention that the flash on this thing is freakishly bright,” she declared. “In fact, I completely forgot that it’s as bright as it is.”

“Yikes,” I muttered with another rub of my eyes. “Well, at least it’s not one of those old-fashioned cameras where they have the bulb separate from the actual camera.”

“Oh, one of those old-timey cameras where they hide under a curtain and hold up a flash bulb over their heads?” she chuckled.

“The same! I think my grandpa had one of those, I don’t remember now.”

She inched to the side for a better look at my legs and the exposed side of my body.

“This is such a wonky old camera, it's a miracle that I know how to work it,” she confessed, and the light flashed out again. Like clockwork, the rain picked up the pace on the roof overhead, and I shivered some more. All the while, it seemed as though my nipples were tightening up from the cold.

“You should have like—one of those little black caps that rabbis wear,” she joked with a gesture to the crown of her head.

“A yarmulke?” I said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that!”

“I have a yarmulke and a Star of David medallion around my neck, and a menorah tucked in between my legs,” I said, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s a celebration of my Jewishness.” I ran my fingers through my hair again, and that time I showed off the entirety of my neck for her. She took another picture that time.

“And your beauty, too!” she declared. I hesitated for a second with my fingers embedded in the ringlets that time, and I looked on at her, and I couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in my stomach.

“How do I look?” I asked her.

“Cute,” she replied in a slight squeal of a voice. “Very, very cute, actually. Let your hair dangle down over your shoulder like that...” I nudged my hair forth, right over my collar bone to give more shape to my shoulder. For once in my life, I actually felt like a model of sorts. Without a piece of clothing on my body except the covers and my pajama bottoms, and I was feeling so good about myself for once in my life. Not even being up on stage made me feel that good about myself in my own skin.

I leaned forward so I was sitting upright in bed. The blankets showed off some more skin around my waist: the band of my pajama bottoms had slid down from my hipbones, but it hadn’t fazed me or her in the least. I nudged the blankets off some more so she could see more of me. Christine licked her lips and brought the camera up to her face once again. Another bright flash of light, and I was seeing spots for a brief moment once again.

I nudged my pants down some more to show off even more skin: I was so close to showing off everything for her. I breathed in deep to show her the entirety of my chest to her. I gave my hair a little toss back with the flick of my head.

“Ooh, yeah, that's kinda...” She paused for a second. I knew what she was thinking, and I knew that she knew what I was thinking as well. One of us was going to say it, if not her.

“You can say it,” I coaxed her. “You've done everything to me and more, so you can say it.” She licked her lips, and then she ran her tongue along the top row of her teeth.

“That's kinda—sexy, actually,” she confessed. “With your hair down like that and your skin all milky. Showing me your legs and your chest. Very up close and personal, I should say.”

“Up close and personal? If this is up close and personal, then what’s this?”

I nudged the covers off all the way so she could see my entire body, but then I nudged my pajama bottoms off my legs and showed off even more skin to her. I nudged my underwear down at the same time so she could see everything.

In the halogen light, her face lit up, and she licked her lips at the sight of me.

“You like what you see here, don’t you?” I teased her as I gave my hair another toss. Christine inched in closer to me with the camera up to her face.

“Ohhh, yes, gorgeous man alert,” she said in a near whisper. “A gorgeous naked man before me and all for me for the evening.” Another picture and another flash, but then I tossed my hair again and brought my shoulder up before my face. I looked on at her as if I was in fact modeling for someone.

Another flash and I turned my chest back into her direction, and I folded my arms over my chest and rested my hands on my shoulders.

“Oh, yes, the camera loves you, big boy,” she quipped in a light voice that sounded like two wine glasses tinkling together; “…big, sensual boy.” I bowed my head a bit to keep everything sultry for her. Another flash and I set my hands down on either side of my hips and tilted my head back. I parted my lips by a mere hair and closed my eyes right as she took another picture of me.

“Phew—boy, you are smoldering hot and raw,” she noted, and she held the camera back so she could fan herself with the side of her free hand despite it feeling even colder in that room.

“It’s funny because I’ve never actually been this way before,” I confessed to her. She looked on at my body, at the rest of me now exposed free from the covers and my pajama bottoms. She licked her lips again, that time at the sight of my middle. I could only assume she was looking at my hips and my legs, that is until she spoke again.

“I like how thick your waist is,” she remarked. “You eat well.”

I took a glance down at my body, at my waist in particular. It seemed like not that long ago I was so skinny there and I only grew fuller with my departure from Testament as well as the breakup as a mark of the loss of what I felt to be my own mistakes and my own second guesses. After the glamour shots, I came back down to earth again.

“You think I look good there?” I asked her in a small voice.

“Yeah, you look like you eat well and take good care of yourself as my grandma would say,” she assured me again.

“Indeed, I do!” I said, and I brought my hands to my waist as if to hide from her, but she had already seen all of me. “I don't make much but the money I do make, I go and eat.”

She set the camera down on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers through her bright red hair.

“I told you my ex was chubby, right?” she recalled.

“I don't think you did,” I confessed with a shake of my head. “I think I would have remembered.”

“Yeah, he was chubby. I mean, he was actually chubby: he had a round belly that poked out and...” She lingered back and cleared her throat; in the dim light, I could see the slight blush on her face. “...and it just looked really cute on him. Ever since then, I just... kind of have a thing for men with even the slightest of bellies on them.” She spoke at such a deliberate pace that I wondered what else she harbored away from the prying eyes of the world. I looked down at myself again: I was nowhere near to being fat, but I still had gone rather soft, however.

“Some people just look better with a little weight in my opinion,” she continued in a small voice; I shivered from the cold, and I tugged the blankets back over me again. “I like it when they let their bodies grow fuller and thicker, and the next thing they know, they have a little belly going.” She lowered her gaze to my waist and the blanket wrapped around me again; I really felt as if I had just been a part of the set of a porno. “And... I just wanna look at them and touch them there.”

“That is so pure,” I said as I ran my fingers through my hair.

“It's weird,” she continued, that time with a shake of her head. “I just... I feel weird talking about it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don't really like to talk about it,” she replied. “I've never felt good enough to share these things out in the open. Not even when he and I were together, either. I never believed that anyone would ever want to know what I was feeling because fuck me, right?”

“So, that's why you were talking so gingerly right then,” I said in a low voice, and she shook her head once again. We fell into momentary silence save for the hard rain on the roof. I wondered when was the last time Reno had a stout rain like this before.

“I've never felt good or attractive enough,” she repeated. “And I've never felt safe enough, either. Like, even when my peers started going out with each other, I felt like I couldn't talk about what I liked because I could feel them judging me. I also never really understood why I feel this way, as well. Like, why can't I just look at people normally? Why do I have to let my own bullshit get in the way of it all? Why am I like this? I'm going to be eighteen soon, why am I just not a sexy person and why don't I have anything to show otherwise?”

She closed her eyes and turned away from me. It almost felt like I had said those things, like she had read my mind before we met with each other. She was silent but for all I knew, she was crying right then. It hurt me to even think about it.

I shivered from the cold in the room, and I thought about putting the blanket back up over me, but I was a shirtless boy sitting right next to her right as she had taken photos of me in the buff. I swallowed and leaned forward so I could be right up next to her face.

“You know, if it's any comfort at all, I feel the exact same way,” I told her. She sniffled and turned her attention back to me: in the dim light, I could see the pain on her face.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” I shivered again, and that time I pulled the blanket up over my chest just so my body was covered part of the way. “Like I said, my ex wouldn't even touch me. I could probably count on one hand as to how many times she kissed me, and really kissed me, too, like there was a shred of passion in there. She also wouldn't really help me get to know myself, either, like I admit that I never knew what I really wanted. I often froze when she and I would try and go a little more intimate, too. I never knew what to tell her because I was often left confused as all hell.” I stopped for a second. “You know, when I really talk about it, in hindsight, I realize that relationship was doomed from the very beginning. I may have been in love but I couldn't seem to get it with her. She only wanted me because I am the lead guitarist of a rock n roll band and I said hi to her after a show, not because she wanted to be with me and love me.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. It felt like a dead weight had just been lifted off my shoulders as I wasn’t really able to tell anyone about that in the last three months. I couldn’t even tell my parents about it because I knew they were going to bicker with me about it. I was getting older and I still hadn’t fallen in love with anyone good enough yet. Maybe I was asking for too much, but at least I was asking.

“So, this really doesn't faze you at all?” she asked me, and I could hear that she was slightly concerned. She made me feel comfortable, and thus, it was only necessary that I returned the favor to her in turn. In fact, during that whole entire photoshoot, I had completely forgotten that she and I were nearly ten years apart in age.

“Actually, no,” I confessed to her. “If anything, I kind of… forgot our ages back there. You were just a photographer and I was just your subject. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And you aren’t grossed out by my sharing my fantasies with you as well as my love of photography?” she asked me in a small voice, to which I cocked my head towards her and raised my eyebrows at the same time.

“Grossed out? Seriously?” And she slowly nodded her head, and I could tell that it was a delicate subject for her. I reached out for her hand rested there on the edge of the bed before me.

“Honey, I'm Jewish,” I told her with a stroke of the back of her hand with the pad of my thumb. “There's a lot that we like to do that would make your fellow gentiles shit their pants. If anything—” I turned my attention back to the door: we were speaking in low enough voices and the rain was coming down in droves to drown out any loud noises that may have emanated from that little room, but I never knew how or if they would hear us in there. But the hallway was still dark and silent, and I returned to her and the slightly down look on her face. “And you heard this from me, too. I'm actually a little turned on by this. By your taking a picture of me. It genuinely made me feel so good about myself for once, and especially after the last three months that I had had.”

Christine nibbled on her bottom lip at that. I knew that this had woken something in her as well, and thus, I had to give her some more space. I had to help her find her own permission to enjoy herself, whether it was my time with me or with someone else in the world. I had the feeling within me, but her happiness would bring a song to my own heart.

“It kind of... makes me feel like a boy again,” I confessed to her with a slight bow of my head.

“You are still a boy,” she pointed out as she reached out and tapped the tip of my nose with her index finger. “Just a little bit older.”

I lowered my gaze to the blankets over my legs and my hips; I still had my pants down over my hips and thighs, but at least I had the blankets protecting her from me. The halogen light, the sole light in the darkness, kept up its bluish white glow cast down on our faces and our bodies, especially my own. She smiled at the sight of my body, especially at my belly and the tops of my hips.

“Just a cute boy,” she remarked in a near whisper: it was raining so hard that her voice nearly floated in on the back of the rain clouds out there.

“Is it okay if I touch your tummy?” she asked me.

“Go right ahead!” I said, and I leaned back against the wall so she could see my whole body. “I still feel warm from dinner earlier, too.” Christine licked her lips and followed me back onto the far side of the bed. She lay on her hip right next to me and ran her hand over my skin: her hands were soft and she moved around my skin so lightly that it made me think of the tips of feathers.

She lifted her palm and stroked my skin with the tips of her fingers. She moved around in small circles all over my belly: at one point, she caressed the rim of my belly button with the tips of her index and middle fingers, one after the other.

“How do you feel?” she asked me in a near whisper.

“That actually feels really good,” I confessed to her, and I let my eyelids droop closed from the feeling. It was the middle of the night still, and I was feeling even warmer from the sensation of her fingers on me. She leaned in closer to my ear and the side of my neck.

“We don't tell anyone, though,” she whispered to me.

“Oh, never,” I vowed to her with a sniff and a shake of my head. “What happens between you and me stays between you and me.”

“What happens here stays here,” she added, and she rested her hand upon my belly, right in the midst of the solar plexus to better feel me. I was a vulnerable boy, and more so there.

“Oh, yeah, you are warm,” she remarked, and she gave me some more strokes with nothing more than the tips of her fingers.

“That kind of tickles,” I said with a snicker. “And I should probably tell you that I'm quite sensitive here. I’m a little delicate in here.”

“I’ll be careful here,” she vowed to me once more. “And can I just say that your long hair is the icing on the cake? Sometimes when I think of boys and their bellies, I feel like they’re missing something, and I now realize that that something is long hair. Long hair and a silky, sensual voice.”

I ran my fingers through the ringlets on the side of my head once again.

“About three years ago, before I left my band, I had really long hair—I mean, it was quite long, about halfway down my back. I remember at one point that I had dyed it solid black, too, to cover up my streak. I looked like I belonged in Mötley Crüe or Poison or something.”

“Why do you have that, by the way?” she asked me with a knitting of her eyebrows. “The little plume of gray on your head, that is.”

“I don't really know, to be honest,” I confessed with a shake of my head. “I started getting it about twelve years ago and there have been a myriad of theories surrounding it as a result, like a birthmark or a scar. It ain't fake, I'll say that. But I'm vain, though, I'll admit it. This thing ages me, and it especially did when I was a fourteen-year-old kid with it, too.”

“I like it,” she said with a nod. “It's interesting. It makes you stand out, too, like I can probably pick you out from a crowd of people if it was the case.”

“That's what my mom says,” I quipped to her, and I couldn't help but chuckle at that. I ran my fingers through my hair, and that time I held my hand over the crown of my head so she could see me bathed in the pale halogen light for a good long second.

“You really do have beautiful hair,” she remarked.

“It's what I get for being Ashkenazi,” I told her, and I moved my hand all the way back to the back of my head, and I shifted my weight on top of the bed so she could see me all the way once again, even with the blankets covering up only part of my body.

“A part of me wants to cuddle with you,” she confessed. “Y’know, I don’t really feel like going back to my room.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip, and I lunged for the head of the bed once again. All the while, I tugged my pajamas up my legs again so she wouldn’t be treated to anything surprising under the covers. Without a moment’s hesitation, she lay down next to me, and she tugged the blankets up from behind her. I then reached back for the flashlight and switched it off, and we were swathed in complete darkness. The rain persisted outside, and I hoped that we wouldn’t wake up to any leaks in the house.

But I put my arms around her and held her close to me: the smell of her hair tickled my nose, and I could feel my heart swelling from the feeling as a result.

“This is nice,” I whispered to her.

“Yeah, I like this,” she confessed to me. “I like this a lot.”

She kept her arms around my waist and her head pushed up against my chest. I tucked the covers underneath her some more so we both were warm. Her fingers crept over my belly like the little legs of a spider, such that I wondered if she was tickling me. But she was moving so slowly that I didn’t think she actually was doing that.

If anything, I found it particularly soothing as I dozed off once again.

#hanukkahbingo #hanukkah 2023 #hanukkah #alone in the dark #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #oc tag #writing #also on ao3 #text #hanukkah bingo

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months

Text

Perfect Find

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: You and Steven look through the local charity shops.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Just some fluffy old fluff.

Warnings: swearing, set in the UK, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 590

You gasp excitedly as you hold up the shirt. “Steven, what about this one?”

His eyes light up when he sees it and rushes around from the other side of the clothing rail. “It’s perfect!” He touches the material lightly, it’s cotton, or at least some kind of cotton blend. Whatever it was, it doesn’t make him feel like he needs to peel his skin off after coming into contact with it.

“This charity shop has everything,” he laughs as he takes the shirt, a short sleeved button down, out of your hands and looks at the price. £6.00, not bad.

The shirt itself is a vibrant sky blue, intercut with swirls of white that in all honestly neither of you are one hundred percent sure if they are meant to be clouds or waves. Though most likely the latter considering the main pattern of the material. It is covered with swimming goldfish, all from a bird’s eye perspective.

You notice the black t-shirt slung in the crook of Steven’s arm and point to it. “Found something else?”

It takes him a moment to drag his eyes away from the goldfish before he looks up to you and smiles. “For Marc.”

You’re about to say how thoughtful that is of him, until Steven holds the t-shirt up and you can read the text on the front. ‘My depression is chronic, but this ass is iconic.’

You can’t help the sudden bout of laughter that spills from your lips. “Oh my god…”

“I know, right?” Steven gives you the biggest shit eating grin.

“He’s gonna hate that.”

“He is.” Steven says with an almost perverse glee. “Loathe it, utterly, utterly loathe it.”

You walk with Steven as he takes his purchases to the till. “Is this payback for him hiding your Hanukkah jumper?”

“Not in the slightest.” He grins. “Just part of the payback.”

You giggle.

“I’m gonna wear this t-shirt every time I know we’ve got planned switching time. See how long it takes before he notices the writing.”

“Could be a while.” You smile.

Marc was very observant when it came to outside things, other people, the landscape, he wasn’t however so concerned with what he was wearing as long as it was comfortable and fairly plain. The writing on the t-shirt was just small enough that there was a good chance he wouldn’t pay attention to it straight away. Especially if Steven put a hoodie or a plain-ish shirt over the top (unbuttoned of course).

“Oh, I intend to make sure it is.” Steven beamed as he then turned to the cashier, greeted them and paid for the shirt and t-shirt.

You absentmindedly touch the t-shirt as you put it into your canvas bag and sling it over your arm. It’s soft, comfortable. And you smile. You know, just as Steven does, that deep, deep, deep down, Marc will quite like the t-shirt.

He’ll grumble a little of course, probably give you both a playful roll of his eyes and tut. But he won’t take it off. He won’t throw it away.

You’ll find him wearing it of his own free will in bed, and on lazy mornings in the flat. And even outside when the urge takes him.

“I can carry those, love.” Steven smiles at you as you carry the bag, but you shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

He tuts, a sound that is so different to Marc, and kisses your cheek as you both head outside into the high street and the next charity shop.

____________________________________

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sterek8nights · 5 months

Text

Our Future In These Photographs

Another Hanukkah fic!

For the Sterek8Nights Bingo squares: gift exchange, combining, family

on ao3 here

Please check out the prompts and the bingo card and join me in Hanukkah-ing Sterek!

____

Derek looked around the store forlornly. Nothing here was right, and he was starting to panic. Hanukkah started in three days, and he still didn’t have anything for Stiles.

So, he did what he usually did when he had a problem he needed help with and he couldn’t call Stiles: he called Stiles’ dad, and texted Boyd.

“Still can’t think of what to get him, huh?” John answered in lieu of a greeting, and Derek groaned. The man may be the actual Sheriff, and his kind of father-in-law, but it was often irritating how much he noticed.

“No. And I am this close to just giving him my credit card and setting him lose at that little occult shop on Denton that has the actual magic stuff in the basement,” Derek not-quite whined.

John chuckles, and even though Derek’s annoyed, the sound is comforting in its familiarity. “As much as he’d enjoy that, I’m not sure that your bank account, or his bookshelves, really need to take that hit, son.”

It’s Derek’s turn to laugh then. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

That’s when he sees it, tucked under a little stack of sweaters, clearly discarded by a customer that couldn’t be bothered to return it to its proper place. A silver picture frame with intricate designs set into the metal. Derek snatches it up and says a hasty goodbye to John, citing an epiphany and barely catching the “Good luck, kid,” that he tacks on before Derek hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket.

After a quick stop at his family’s vault, and another to the Stilinksi residence, he rushes home, glad to beat Stiles there, and hurries to his office to wrap his gifts.

***

The first night of Hanukkah is spent with John at his house, with just the three of them, starting the week off with a relative calm before various combinations of friends and co-workers, and the pack all invade Derek and Stiles’ house for the other days.

After lighting the menorah, and eating the latkes they had all made together, they head to the living room to exchange gifts, Derek and Stiles give John a trip for the three of them to see the Mets and a stay in a really nice hotel for a few days. He tries to protest, but Stiles has already arranged the time off for him, so he hugs them both and starts talking about what else they can do while they’re in New York.

John commits to what he insists are “traditional Hanukkah gifts”, and gives them both packages of novelty socks and matching t-shirts with photo realistic wolves howling at the moon on the front. Stiles cackles and hugs his dad even as he complains about not being a kid anymore, but John waves his protests off. “You know how this works, kid. Socks are tradition! I just picked a package at random, you could’ve just as easily gotten an art kit, or something surprising!” he defends with a smirk, knowing that they all not-so-secretly find it hilarious to get three or four nights of “useful” presents amid all the rest.

“At least it’s not underwear,” Derek jokes, only for Stiles to look him in the eye and waggle his eyebrows in a way that never fails to make Derek feel fond, even though it’s objectively ridiculous.

“Maybe not from dad,” Stiles replies, making Derek blush, eyes darting furiously to John, and then back to Stiles.

John groans, loud and long-suffering. “That’s more than I need to know, son,” he complains good naturedly, tossing the balled-up wrapping paper from his gift at Stiles and hitting him square on the nose. After a few moments of shared laughter and a brief wrapping paper war, John announces it’s time for the two of them to exchange their gifts.

Stiles scrambles to grab his box, wrapped in shimmery blue and surprisingly heavy for its size when Stiles sets it in Derek’s hand. He watches expectantly as Derek unwraps it carefully. Inside the box are two stones; one is about half the size of Derek’s palm, the other is quarter-sized and on a necklace, they’re both practically glowing, and Derek realizes it’s the same shimmer the wrapping paper had.

“They carry the most powerful protection spell I could find,” Stiles explains. “The big one, you bury in your yard and it will keep the house and a good amount of the surrounding forest safe. The small one you wear,” he says, wrapping his hands around Derek’s. “As a bonus feature, if you hold the pendant, it sends a little buzz to me through my spark, so you can tell me you’re thinking of me, or hold it longer, and it’s like the Bat-signal signal.”

Derek manages a slightly awed smile as he looks up at Stiles from where he was watched they tangled hands, and a “I love it, thank you,” that’s a little more choked up than he’d like to admit before Stiles pulls him close for a brief, chaste kiss.

“You’re welcome. Happy Hanukkah, Der,” Stiles says into the small space between them. “Now where’s mine?” he asks with mock-seriousness, successfully resetting the mood.

Derek scoffs and rolls his eyes, as is expected of him, and carefully hands Stiles his meticulously wrapped box.

Stiles is not a careful-unwrapper, but he takes his time with this one, maybe he picked up on Derek and John’s excitement.

When the wrapping paper is off, Stiles looks between Derek and John quizzically, his fingers hovering over the edges of the outer box. “What did you two do?” Stiles asks, eyes narrowing.

John puts both hands up in a calming gesture, but Derek barks out an anxious “Open it,” and then immediately regrets it when they both look at him like he’s lost his mind. Derek huffs out a laugh and ruffles his own hair. “Sorry. I was really anxious about what to get you; your dad helped when I figured it out.”

Stiles grins wide. He loves that his dad and his boyfriend get along so well. He is also insanely curious about what’s in the box.

He lifts the lid off the box and runs delicate fingers over the tissue paper folded over the contents, peeling it away slowly. Once it’s out of the way, Stiles gasps, a hand flying to his mouth.

Inside the box are two not-quite identical silver frames.

In one, is a picture of Stiles, John, Derek, Cora, and Peter with the rest of the pack, on the giant porch at Stiles and Derek’s house. In the other, is a similar picture, except it’s on the porch at the old Hale house, and the pack in the picture is Derek’s family. Derek is maybe three years old, Peter barely a teenager, and Cora and Stiles are technically there, too, because in the middle of the photograph are Talia and Claudia, both very pregnant, with their arms thrown around each other. John is on the other side of Stiles’ mom, absolutely beaming at the camera.

Stiles looks up at Derek and his dad, eyes wet with unshed tears. He knew that his parents were friends with the Hales, had seen the occasional photo – mostly in boxes of his mother’s things in the attic – but he’d never seen this specific picture before, never a picture of him and Derek together, because the Hales had distanced themselves when John got promoted at the Sheriff’s department, not wanting him to have to lie about the supernatural in any official capacity, so they’d missed out on being in each other’s lives until they met again as teenagers.

“Der,” Stiles whispers, tracing the edges of the frames.

“I found that frame, the newer one, and I remembered a similar one from the vault that I’d seen years ago. With that picture. It, uh. It didn’t mean anything at the time, it was so long ago, but I brought it here, and your dad told me a little about that time–”

“There’s an envelope in the box, with some things your moms both wrote, and some I wrote out,” John interrupts gently. Derek nods at him gratefully.

Stiles has the envelope out and open before his dad finishes speaking, not exactly reading, more just tracing the shape of his mom’s handwriting, taking in the curl of Talia’s and John’s neat, tight lettering. He looks up again, carefully placing the precious papers back in the box, and half launching-half falling into Derek’s arms. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles without having to think about it.

“I love you,” Stiles says into Derek’s neck.

“I love you, too,” Derek replies mostly into Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles spreads out one arm towards his dad and waves his hand around. “Come here, Pops, get in on this family hug STAT,” he demands, slightly muffled from how he hasn’t quite turned his head out of Derek’s neck. John obliges with minimal grunting and groaning about being too old to be on the floor, and Derek and Stiles tug him into the hug, all of them a little sniffly. “Love you, dad. Thank you.”

“Aw, hell, kid, I love you, too,” John replies, “Have I told you recently that you did alright with picking that Hale kid to marry?” he teases.

“We’re not married, dad.”

“Yet,” Derek corrects, and Stiles pulls away quickly, only managing to avoid whacking Derek and his dad with his head because of Derek’s reflexes.

“Yet?!” he squwaks. When Derek only shrugs, he adds “Derek Hale, if you are planning on making me cry again this Hanukkah, I am going to be so mad at you.”

John laughs, knowing full well that Stiles has a ring and a whole plan for sometime before New Year’s. Derek though? Derek pulls Stiles back in, says “I promise, no more crying presents,” and wracks his brain for what to get for Stiles for the next seven nights.

Maybe he can move up his proposal plan?

#sterek fic #eternalsterek #sterek8nights #sterek event #sterek prompt #sterek bingo #sterek holidays

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