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Because there's never too much Leo in the world <3 Characters belong to @lumosinlove!
Dawn
“Good morning, baby.” The soft trace of her fingertip down his nose made his smile hard to hide. “Good morning, I knew you were in there. How’re you feeling?”
The back of her hand was gentle on his cheek. Warm as the sun, just barely coming in through his curtains. Leo pressed into it and heard his mother laugh. “Mama,” he mumbled, burying his face back into his blankets. “Do I have to go to school?”
“What’s that, baby?”
Leo huffed, then wriggled up the bed until his mouth was free again. “Do I have to go to school?”
His mother hesitated long enough to give him hope, but the pursing of her lips quickly dashed it. “Yes.”
He groaned into his pillow and made sure it was loud enough to hear the first time.
“You were so excited last week!”
He burrowed down deeper, like the bullfrogs in the riverbank behind grandma’s house. If he went deep enough, they’d never be able to get him out. He’d croak and grumble and—
“All your friends are going to be big kindergarteners without you if you don’t.”
It was a good first croak. His second was even better.
“You get to tell them all about visiting Auntie Faye.”
“What if my head hurts?”
Her hand, petting through the top of his hair, stopped short. “Your head hurts?”
“…no.”
“Leo Nolan Knut.”
Leo peeked out of the blankets. He didn’t think bullfrogs had mothers that said their full names like that. She was in her running clothes still, all good mornings gone out the window with the stern narrowing of her blue eyes.
“I’m going to rinse,” she said. “And your butter beans and that head o’ yours better be downstairs by the time I’m done.”
“Yes, mama.”
“That joke isn’t funny.”
“Yes, mama.”
“And you better have your sleep clothes in the basket. I see them on the floor again and they’re going out the dang window.”
“Yes, mama.”
She had started petting him again, in the quiet way grandma did when they sat together on the porch swing. She kissed his forehead before standing and heading for the hall, stretching her arms high like the lions they’d seen at the zoo on Tuesday.
“Mama?”
“Hmm?”
“Do bullfrogs have full names?”
“Yes, baby, go ask your daddy about it.”
-
His father did not, in fact, know the names of the bullfrogs in their yard. Or grandma’s; Leo made sure to check. It was a crying shame, all things considered. “I’ll ask them after school,” he assured his father.
“You do that.”
“It’s important.” If he slumped low and stretched his feet way down, the tips of his sneakers almost touched the kitchen floor. “What’re you doing today?”
“Going to work.”
Leo wrinkled his nose. “You always go to work. Can we go on the boat?”
“You still want to go on that thing?” His father gave him a funny look, exasperated and fond and lost for words all at once. His brows pinched the way they did whenever he looked at Leo’s forehead, even though the cut was mostly covered by his hair, now. Leo hadn’t liked having shaved-short hair at all.
He liked the boat, though. It wasn’t the windshield’s fault that he fell. “Yeah,” he answered. “Can we go?”
“You got school. And bullfrogs.”
“That won’t take all day,” he explained. Lord, his parents didn’t know anything.
His father laughed into his coffee, like Leo had said something funny. “You’d be surprised.”
“Can you go to school with me?”
“I already went to school, they don’t want me back.”
“What if there’s snakes?”
“They got as much of a right to an education as you do.”
Leo frowned and dragged mazes through melted butter with the end of his toast. They had picked out his first-day-of-school clothes together last night before bedtime, but he could already tell he’d sweat through his shirt. The kitchen was getting hotter by the minute. “Daddy?”
“Yessir.”
“What if I sweat at school?”
That gave his father pause. “Well,” he started, then thought a moment longer. “You want to bring an extra shirt with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Wyatt Knut, your son thinks he’s funny,” his mother announced as she entered the room. Her hair was free of its ponytail and had been blown into big curls, clipped back out of her eyes but otherwise free in a golden cloud. Leo thought she looked like a princess when she wore her hair like that. Magnolia filled his nose when she pressed a hard kiss to the top of his head. “Couillon.”
“Hey,” he whined.
“Apparently, we’re making jokes about our little incident on the boat now.” She took her coffee cup from the table, right where his father left it every day, and sat on the edge of his lap to get her kiss.
His father raised his eyebrows. “Oh, we are?”
“Apparently.”
“I got in trouble for it,” Leo informed him.
His mother was already up again, buzzing between the stove and her purse and the sink to do half a dozen chores one-handed. Leo finished the last bite of his toast just as his father leaned toward him, both elbows on the table. “You know that was serious, don’t you?”
“Mhm.”
“And you could’ve been real hurt? And that your mama and I were scared?”
“Yessir.”
“Alright.” With a last sip of his coffee, he checked his watch and made the same surprised sound he’d made each morning since Leo could remember. “Go on and get your bag, then, we’ve got a bit of a drive.”
-
Noon
The Gryffindor Lions are proud to select, from New Orleans, Louisiana, goaltender Leo Knut…
He had a jersey. He had a hat.
He had a team.
He had—pictures, somewhere. Someone had them. Leo fit his fingertips between the stitched letters of his name that stretched across thick red fabric, short and blunt and ink-black in the strange light of their seats. His past, his present. At long, long last, his future. A real one.
He couldn’t speak anymore. Thank you yes sir very excited thank you sir nice to meet you sir yes sir I can stand right there yes thank you. Yes, they had taken pictures; he’d have to find them later. He hoped he didn’t look as insane as he felt. Oh, god. He really hadn’t had a backup plan at all, had he?
“Leo?”
He nodded. Yes sir thank you sir.
“Leo, baby?” The hand on his back gave a firm rub. His mother’s voice was shaky with emotion, and when he finally managed to turn his head, her smile was, too. He collapsed into her without a thought for the arm of the too-small auditorium chair between them. It pushed into his lower stomach and he only held her tighter, his jersey in one hand and her shirtsleeve clutched in the other.
From New Orleans, Louisiana, goaltender Leo Knut. He was the first one, the very first. Not just from New Orleans—the whole damn state. The thought paralyzed him. “It’s just me.”
“Oh, baby, no, you’re so talented.” His mother squeezed him tight. “There’s no just you. They all know it.”
He shook his head, even though it was buried in her shoulder. “No, I mean—I mean I’m the only one. From home. It’s just me.”
Her breath caught, trembling and shallow. Her palm ran down the back of his head and rested warm on his neck. He was five years old, soaking in clear April afternoons between thunderstorms so big they shook the house. He inhaled. It burned. They were calling someone else’s name, now.
Those boys on the stage could talk all day about frozen ponds and fresh October ice. Not one of them knew how the lake steamed in the earliest mornings. How it felt to roll down the highway past alligators sunning themselves in the last bit of daylight. How the trees turned to ghosts before the sun woke them. Did they know what it was like, packing fifty pounds of gear at four o’clock in the morning so they could make it to practice by six?
Sick, dude, you’re from L.A.? Ohh, Louisiana, my bad, my bad. Hey, we’re hitting Tim’s, you want anything?
Leo hadn’t known. He’d turned a thousand shades of red when Tyler with the frosted tips (not drafted yet, Leo beat him, and he had to admit he was a little proud) explained the tradition. Because that was a tradition, for these boys. They didn’t have ice cream after games. They had hot chocolate and coffee from a place that didn’t exist in Leo’s half of the world, and doughnuts baked hot enough to thaw their frozen mouths.
One hundred years, and the NHL had never seen a player from Louisiana. Hey-I’m-K.D.-from-Tampa had laughed at his accent that morning over the shitty hotel breakfast. Well, boy howdy, ain’t it nice ta-meetcha, pardner. He hadn’t been called up, yet, either. Fucker.
One hundred years. Leo figured they’d never had a player like him in a couple different ways, some easier to hide than others. He was already strange in their spotlight-blinded eyes, not that anyone looked close enough to see. Maybe they assumed everyone from New Orleans wore bracelets. It would be hilariously easy to make them believe it. He couldn’t be the only one, could he? Was that too much to ask? He’d do it, he was ready, he just…it was just a lot. To be alone like that. It had been a lot for a long time.
A touch to his elbow made him jump. He ducked his head down at his mother’s beckon. Her crystal-blue eyes were bright and happy; she’d worn her going-out perfume. “We’re so proud of you,” she whispered. Her thumb brushed the side of his face. “All of us. So proud, baby.”
They could laugh over tasteless bacon and bland waffles all they wanted. He was a Lion for this year, at least. They wouldn’t be laughing by the end of it.
-
Dusk
The rush. The sudden fall. The empty buzz.
Leo slowed to a stop and leaned his head on the wall. Cold. Every fucking thing was cold, here. Stilled into stasis, so far from the heat that soothed him through the thick of summer.
What a fucking nightmare. What a horror show.
He found his parents in the family box. It was just them and Finn’s folks left, now—Haley saw him before anyone else and took her husband by the loop of his belt, tugging him toward the door with a tilt of her head and kind, smiling goodbyes for Leo’s own family. His mother gave her a kiss on each cheek. When she turned, she knew right where to look.
Leo fell into her arms with the last bit of strength in his worn-down body.
“We’re so proud,” she said, holding him hard. “You were exceptional. Absolutely incredible.”
Leo shuddered.
His mother sighed. “I’m so sorry, baby. This is a hard one.”
He nodded. He couldn’t speak. He’d used all the words up in the interminable interviews. Sometimes you miss things, he remembered saying. Sometimes it doesn’t go your way. I wish I had made a couple of better saves out there, for sure.
He hadn’t said the rest, but he wanted to. He figured they heard it anyway. I wish I had been better. I wish I had been better. I wish—
“Can I come home?”
The tears were there. He didn’t know when they had come, hot and quick. Sometime between his mother rubbing his back and the comforting weight of his father’s presence beside them. He heard the plea in his own fragile voice and it rubbed terribly at the raw thing inside him.
“Oh.” His mother, again. A sound like she couldn’t help it. “My Leo, oh, baby, of course you can. You can always come home, don’t you ever doubt that for a minute.”
“I don’t want to talk to people,” Leo mumbled into her shoulder. She was wearing a shirt with his name and number in red-gold sparkles. He was ruining it. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and felt twin tears run down his nose, soaking into cotton. “I don’t want more questions.”
“No questions,” she promised. “Not from us.”
He felt small. Tired and sore. “When can we go?”
“Any time you want.”
Now. Right now. No more cameras. No more sad eyes. He couldn’t look at Kasey. And—he didn’t want to look at Logan. Another wave hit him hard. He was so awful. He was bad for Logan. Maybe Logan was bad for him. He didn’t even know, anymore. He couldn’t take another second of wrecked, guilty green.
But thank god he was guilty. Thank god Logan looked as wrecked as Leo felt.
Lord, he was a terrible person.
“I just wanna be home,” he croaked. “For—for a little while.”
“Alright.”
He needed to burn, for a while. To breathe and have it warm him with thick summer steam. He needed to let the river take this weight all the way to the delta’s sprawl, and pour it into the sea. Thick butter, spice that made him sweat this terrible thing out like a fever, his grandmother’s tea to gentle the sweetness back into this hollow ache inside. He needed her. He needed them. His own tongue betrayed him when he listened back to his interviews.
Leo let himself be held a moment longer. “Tomorrow?”
“Hmm?”
“Can we go tomorrow?” It was over, but it wasn’t finished.
His mother passed a hand between his shoulders. “Sure, baby, whenever you want.”
“I need to say bye.” Was this a goodbye? No, he thought. No, he didn’t want that. A see you later. A see you soon. He hadn’t said goodbye to Logan. They’d be waiting for him. “To Finn,” he added, straightening up and blinking in the light. “And—and Logan.”
Her lips pursed. “You sure?”
Leo tried for a smile. “Isn’t he your favorite?”
“We’ll see.”
That made him laugh, at last. Snotty and weak, but it was there and it was real. He heard her mutter something like one damn phone call as he turned to his father next and let him drag him close, one big palm over the back of his head. Leo’s forehead nestled into his shoulder like every memory he’d ever had. If he closed his eyes, he could smell salt on the breeze, stained forever in his father’s shirtsleeves.
He could breathe again. It was hard. He could do it. “I’ll pack,” he said into the fabric of his own jersey, the one he signed for them last summer in what would have been a joke if not for the pride in his father’s eyes. “I’ll pack, I’ll say goodbye. Maybe stay the night. I can meet you at your hotel in the morning.”
They were quiet for a few beats. Probably doing that thing they did, with the eye contact over his head (or shoulder, once he grew). He did that with Finn sometimes, in crowded rooms.
Oh, Finn.
“I think we’d like to say goodbye to your boys, too,” his mother ventured. “Would that be okay?”
Leo lifted his head. “Really?”
“Well, yeah,” she laughed, then cupped his cheek with a small sound. “Oh, you poor thing, you’re all red. We don’t have to. There’ll be other times.”
And because it was over, because he could feel his feet on the ground again, because for the first time in months he could split it all into something resembling a neat pattern—Leo took a second to think. About Finn, and Logan. Home. He wanted to lie down in Finn’s bed, their bed, his and Finn’s for more than a year, now. It smelled like him all along one side. He liked to roll over and curl up in it once Finn had left for his morning run.
“Okay,” he said. “Yeah. They’ll drive me over in the morning, and then take us to the airport. We’ll all fit in the car.”
He thought for a few moments more, because he could. They waited for him.
“I’m not bringing a lot.” The honesty of it surprised him. “Just stuff for a couple days, I think.”
“Okay.” The good kind of brightness had returned to his mother’s eyes. She squeezed his upper arm. “You’ve got some clothes at home, still, but I’m not sure they’d fit you anymore.”
“I missed you.”
It left him in a rush. He didn’t know why he said it, but he needed to, like his heart needed to beat. It had been hiding somewhere under his tongue next to rolling vowels and loping French. His father’s brows pitched. Leo wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“I just,” he started again. He didn’t know where he was going with this. He shrugged. “I miss you, when I’m here. Even with everything. And I’m really upset, and I’m really glad you’re here.”
Razor edges in his lungs wore down to dullness. When his father pulled him over again and kissed the top of his head, right where Leo knew his hair slid from gold to pale gray, he let it ache, and he let it soften.
-
Dawn
Finn was attempting to escape. Five minutes ago, Leo had dedicated his whole entire seven a.m. self to making sure that did not happen under any circumstances. Finn may not have known that in so many words, but the point was rapidly becoming clear to him. Smart boy. He learned fast.
“Le,” Finn finally laughed, quiet. He cast a darting glance at the lump keeping Leo’s back warm before looking down at him. Bambi, indeed. Soft and doe-eyed as a teeny-tiny speckled baby creature. He wondered if Finn would let him pet his ears. The thought marinated when he closed his eyes, Finn’s lips leaving quick pecks on the bridge of his nose and each cheek. “I was going to bring you some coffee in bed.”
Leo hummed at him. In the bend of his arm, Finn’s thigh gave a twitch. His opposite wrist was still firmly entangled between Leo’s neck and hand.
“Butter…”
“You stay.”
Finn’s nose was perpetually cold. He nuzzled it to the high of Leo’s cheek, hot from being pressed between them. Rainwater on a summer day, that one. “You sure?”
“Hmm.”
Finn lowered his voice further. His breath ghosted over Leo’s jaw, followed by the cool drag of his skin and the press of his mouth to the sensitive, confidential space beneath his earlobe. “I also got you secret breakfast,” he confessed. The warmth of his words passing over Leo’s skin sent goosebumps racing over him. “Which was a surprise. So you gotta act like you didn’t know when I bring it in, ‘kay?”
“Bribery and extortion.”
“You’re holding three—four of my limbs hostage.”
Leo flexed his ankle around the back of Finn’s knee. It pulled him another inch into the cocoon of his body. His whole cheek smushed with the force of the kiss Leo left there. “You’ll wake the beast.”
Finn peered past him, into the dim dark. “We can handle him.”
“Five minutes,” Leo ordered. “Earn your freedom.”
“With minutes of my one beautiful and precious life?”
“Ten of ‘em.”
“Whew, inflation.”
“Rate’s going up…”
Finn let his head fall back onto his pillow with a thump. It made the thick, silk-soft waves of his hair fluff up and Leo released his wrist (though wrested it back swiftly in the crook of his elbow) to brush a few strands to the side and kiss his favorite freckles. Then he laid his full weight down on Finn’s front, rested his cheek against the breadth of Finn’s face, and closed his eyes.
“You’re joking,” said Finn’s muffled voice.
“You can breathe.”
“My nose. Is flat.”
It was. Leo could feel the cold point of it just above the hinge of his jaw. “Sacrifices must be made.”
Finn’s chest puffed. “What about secret breakfast?”
“Your breath is so hot right now.”
“I can’t move.”
Leo leaned down and kissed his temple. Nipped his ear. “Nobody is coming to save you,” he whispered.
“Logan—”
Finn broke off with a yelp and a thrash as Leo’s fingertips found his ribs, relentless. Logan woke with all the grace of a hibernating bear, squinting out at them from his blanket bundle even as he pulled more of the sheets to his chest. “Quoi?”
“Save me!”
Logan hunkered down deeper; Leo tightened the grip of his thighs around Finn’s legs and wrestled him back down into the covers. Finn was lean and strong, but some days, it paid to be six-three and stronger.
One attempted bite later, Finn was pinned even more firmly than he had been five minutes prior. Logan blinked at them like a tired cat, looked at the clock, and shook his head. “Non.”
“What?” Finn sputtered. Leo tucked his frozen toes into the curve of Finn’s calves and pulled a wonderfully strangled hootfrom him.
“You’re exactly where you want to be,” Logan concluded.
“Yes,” Leo agreed, laughing as Finn’s ears reddened. “I am.”
We're doing Nootmas a little differently this year. We're trying out a "Giving Tree" style instead of Secret Santa.
1. You fill out the prompt form, as many times as you like, starting today! These are anonymous!
2. Starting on 11/27/25, prompts will be available for viewing. Pick as many as you like! Pick your own if you want, the fic elves won't tell. There is no limit to how many people can choose a prompt, which means multiple peopleay choose one prompt, and some prompts might not be chosen.
3. From 11/28/25 through 1/1/26, share your works with us in the server and on tumblr. Don't forget to tag @/noots-fic-fests for a reblog into the live archive
4. Have fun!!! This is meant to he low stress and to encourage seasonal creativity. If you have any questions, please let me know! 💕💕
Hey all! Thanks for a lovely Fic-O-Ween!!! 28 total fics from 4 fantastic creators. They're all reblogged here, if they were shared on tumblr (which i believe is all of them). Special thanks to @fruitcoops and @iluvchick3nz for completing every prompt!!! 🥹🥰
Still accepting late Fic-O-Ween submittals all through this week! They'll be reblogged with love and enthusiasm. 🎃🍂🍁
For winterfic/ficmas... we're doing something a little different. We're not doing a secret santa style match-up server-only exchange. More details and the anonymous submittal form to come soon! Love y'all!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
High um I started a new sweater weather one shot collection it’s linked below if you’re into that. Thinking about making it a challenge thing for writers. Okay bye.
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