#i eat sleep and breathe it in december honestly

[lannisterdaddyissues]

now that christmas is so near on the horizon this is my obligatory reminder to everyone reading this that the only adaptation of a christmas carol you should be watching is scrooge (1970)

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (12/?)

Part Summary: You know Leigh well enough to recognize that she never acts without intention. She must have agonized about this too—about that kiss, about you. And she's making it difficult for you to guess just what conclusions she had come to in the time you were apart.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.500+ | Warnings: Smut | Author's note: I honestly don't know what else to write in the summary without giving too much away, so without further ado… P.S. No cliffhangers this time ;)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI

-

A week after Thanksgiving, as the icy Maine wind whips across the tarmac at Rockland Airport, you find yourself holding a container of lobster cakes—your mother's way of sending a piece of home back with you. Despite her protests about you cutting your visit short, she spent last night in the kitchen, crafting your favorite dish, the smell of butter and ocean filling the house. “Eat these when you miss home,” she had said, pressing the container into your hands with a sad smile. The decision to leave early was anything but easy.

You initially planned to stay five more days in Camden, but Leigh's radio silence prompted you to book a direct flight to Los Angeles. It was eating you up inside; you had to go back. The familiar dark screen of your phone kept you on edge; you hadn't expected Leigh to strictly follow through on her promise not to contact you. She had a way of doing the unexpected. Or maybe you've been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you underestimated how deeply she wanted you that night. And perhaps you've overestimated your own anger, believing it would even slightly lessen your feelings for her.

Sitting in the window seat with the whole row to yourself, you stare at your phone as the flight attendant's voice crackles over the intercom, signaling it's time to switch to airplane mode. Impulsively, you tap out a text to her.

Belated Happy Thanksgiving, Leigh. If you’re free tomorrow evening, maybe we could talk? Perhaps over dinner?

It’s straightforward, maybe too much so, but it’s sent before you can overthink it.

The flight attendant's voice fills the cabin once more, reminding everyone to switch their devices as the plane is about to take off. You comply, toggling the setting and sealing off any immediate replies. The engines roar to life, and as the plane ascends, you try to push away the knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach.

As you wait to fall asleep, you think about Leigh—whether she’s seen your message and what she might be feeling. You wonder about the time apart, recalling the old saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Or does it make it forget instead?

-

You touch down in L.A. just as the date ticks over to December 1st, the clock a little past midnight. The moment the plane reaches the gate, you grab your phone and switch off airplane mode. There's a message from your mom, checking in to see if you've landed safely, and you text her back to let her know you did. Suzie has also texted, saying Foreman called in sick and asking if you can cover at the clinic later. You shoot back a quick reply, saying you just landed, you'll catch some sleep, and might be in late in the morning.

But there’s nothing from Leigh. No text, no missed call, nothing to indicate she received your message or is interested in meeting.

You sigh and, without thinking, tap her name on the screen. The call goes through, and the phone rings as you make your way through the late-night crowd at LAX. It continues ringing, unanswered, until it finally clicks over to voicemail. You mutter a soft curse under your breath. Of course, she's not going to pick up—it's 12:30 in the morning. You consider sending a quick apology text but then reconsider, figuring you've already pushed enough boundaries by calling her this late.

Instead, you slide your phone back into your pocket and head toward baggage claim. You weave through the half-awake travelers and the sterile glow of the airport lights, finally spotting your suitcase trundling along the carousel. You heft it off and make your way through the automatic doors. You glance one more time at your phone, half hoping for a notification, but it's blank. With a sigh, you head for the exit, feeling the exhaustion settle in.

-

You check your inbox first thing in the morning, but there's still nothing from Leigh. You don't have time to overanalyze this again because you're already running late for work.

-

The whole day is swamped, with emergencies piling up alongside a packed schedule of immunizations and follow-ups. Suzie mistakenly booked an entire week's worth of scheduled vaccines for today, a Saturday. She explains that the clients requested to move their appointments to the weekend, adding, “We're closed on Sundays, so I thought today would work.”

You try to hide your frustration, not wanting to lay the blame on her. Your nerves are already frayed, and every hour that passes without a word from Leigh has you feeling more on edge.  As you tend to your patients and give instructions to the staff, you feel the pressure building, a headache beginning to throb behind your eyes. The never-ending stream of clients leaves you with no time to catch your breath. Between each appointment, you plaster on a polite smile, but inside, you're counting down the minutes until you can check out of, well, everything.

As the clock hits seven, you can't take another minute. The clinic has been a madhouse since the doors opened. You barely glance at Suzie as you callously tell her, “Close early. I'm tired.” Without waiting for her response, you trudge straight to your office and slump into your chair, eyes closed against the harsh fluorescent lights. Resting your head back, you exhale slowly, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. The fatigue wraps itself around you like a fog, and for a moment, everything falls away.

A few minutes later, you hear a gentle knock. It's Suzie, standing in the doorway with a paper in her hand. Without opening your eyes, you mutter, “What is it?” Your irritation seeps through, but you’re too drained to rein it in.

Suzie hesitates before stepping into your office, her expression unreadable. She extends the paper towards you. “It's my resignation letter,” she says quietly.

Your eyes snap open, and the paper feels heavier than it should as you take it from her hands. You’ve been nothing short of awful to her all day, snapping at every turn. 

“Is this about today?” you ask. 

She gives you a small, weary smile and points to the date on the letter. “I wrote this last week, right after you left for Maine.”

You glance down at the letter and see that it’s dated exactly a week ago. “Why didn’t you give it to me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your vacation,” she says softly. “I know how much you needed that break. And honestly, you’ve got enough on your plate right now without me adding to it.”

You can feel the burn of frustration and shame behind your eyes. “You’ve been a rock here, Suzie. I don’t want you to go. Please reconsider.”

She shakes her head gently. “I’ve thought this through. It’s time. I care about this place, and about you, but I need to move on.”

You let out a long breath. “I see. Still, I'm sorry today was so rough,” you say, looking up at her wistfully. You try working your puppy eyes, and for a moment it seems effective as her expression softens into a frown. 

But then she says, “It’s not the clinic or the work I do here. I got an offer for a research position; it's something I've always wanted to try.”

That makes you smile. If that’s the case, then you’re truly happy for her.

“I understand. I wish you hadn't felt the need to keep this to yourself, especially with everything else happening today,” you say, still clutching the paper tightly in your hand, crumpling it slightly.

Suzie shrugs. “I didn't want to add to your stress. Don’t worry, I’ll count the 30 days' notice from today, not the date on my resignation, so you have time to find someone to replace me.”

From that, you know her mind’s already made up. As you read her letter again, your eyes start to sting. You glance back up at her, your vision blurring. “Suzie, thank you,” you mumble thickly.

“Hey, it's okay,” she says gently. “I'm not leaving town. We can still grab lunch whenever. I know how glued to your desk you get, so I'll drag you out for a bite now and then.” You let out a shaky chuckle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“It's just—I’m going to miss you, and I don’t know how I'll replace you,” you say with a sniffle.

“Missing me is a given,” she says, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Actually, I might know someone interested in my job.”

Your ears perk up at that. Good help is hard to find these days, especially with more demands from applicants and a tight job market. “Who?” you ask, curious.

Suzie turns around as if she's going to leave without answering, but then she glances over her shoulder, her smirk widening. “Sara.”

-

A little while later, you catch Suzie just as she's finishing up in the lobby.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll lock up. You’ve done enough today,” you say, sending her home. She gives you a grateful smile, slings her bag over her shoulder, and wishes you a good night before heading out.

Finally alone, you take a moment to decompress. Clasping your hands behind your back, you stretch, trying to release the day's tension. A dull ache climbs up your spine, reminding you how tight your muscles are. Unable to hold the position for more than a few seconds, you relax, the discomfort too much to bear. It's hard to tell whether it's from the long-haul flight yesterday, your age creeping up on you, poor posture, or all of the above. 

On a whim, you book a late-night yoga session at the Beautiful Beast, hoping to relieve the tightness in your back. It’s been a while since your last visit.

Afterward, you head to the small bathroom in your office to get ready. It's basic, not meant for much more than washing hands and changing scrubs, but it’s all you've got. Stripping off your day's clothes, you step into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on your back. The steam fills the tiny space, and the heat melts a bit of the stiffness away. After a quick rinse, you towel off and slip into your yoga gear. The stretchy fabric feels liberating after being in stiff work clothes all day. You roll up your yoga mat, tucked behind the office door, and switch off the bathroom light.

As you're about to head out of the clinic, you check your phone, hoping to see something from Leigh. There's nothing—she hasn’t even read your last message. The stonewalling feels all too familiar, and you're tired of it.

You slide into your car, letting out a weary sigh. As you start the engine, thoughts of Suzie's suggestion to hire Sara sneak back into your mind. You can't help but chortle at the idea—it’s so unexpected, almost comical, considering how you know Sara and her standing friends-with-benefits proposition. It feels far-fetched, and knowing Suzie, she was likely just teasing.

The drive to the fitness studio is as mechanical as it gets. You're hardly aware of the turns you take until you park in front of the building. You step out, mind still elsewhere, and open your car door—right into someone walking by.

“Ow!”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” you start to say, cutting yourself off when you see who it is. 

Leigh, of all people, is rubbing her elbow, wincing. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a plain white shirt under a jacket, paired with simple black tights. 

“See me? Lovely excuse,” she quips, her eyes fixed on her arm rather than you. Her expression is primed to unleash more frustration when she finally turns to meet the source of the blunder.

 “I—” Leigh stops, visibly surprised to see you. Quickly, her face smooths into something more neutral. “Y/N. You…you really should watch it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Are you alright?”

She rubs her elbow once more, then nods slowly. “Just startled me a bit, but I’m fine.”

Once you both regain your bearings, you unconsciously begin rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, hesitating despite the things you’ve rehearsed in your head all week. Your text message inviting her to meet tonight lingers at the forefront of your mind. But before you can bring it up, Leigh catches you by surprise.

“So, you’re heading in for a class?” she asks casually, as if the last time you saw each other didn’t end with a kiss and a confrontation that put the aforementioned kiss on hold.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I am,” you reply. Then you remember Leigh doesn't work here anymore, but with her mother owning the place, it's no surprise to see her around occasionally. 

Still, you ask, “How about you?”

“You mind if we walk while we talk?” Leigh suggests.

You nod, a little thrown off but managing to say, “Sure, just let me grab my stuff.” 

She waits a few seconds as you gather your belongings, and then you both start walking toward the building. Leigh sets a brisk pace, always a step ahead, and you find yourself almost hurrying to keep up with her.

“I just got back to working here again,” she says after a beat.

Surprised, you ask, “Oh, how did that happen?”

“Long story,” she replies with a slight shrug, her eyes focused ahead.

Unsatisfied with her vague answer, your eyes drift to her lips. Memories of that last kiss flood back—their soft, velvety feel and that distinct taste that’s all hers, like fresh water after a long, grueling hike. It's a taste that's unmistakably Leigh, nothing else like it. As you walk together, you struggle to stay present. This isn’t at all how you pictured your reunion with her would go. Not by a long shot.

“Leigh,” you call out, stopping abruptly. Your voice comes out higher than intended, quivering a bit. You clear your throat and try again, “D-Did you get my text yesterday?”

Leigh glances back over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “No.”

The bluntness leaves you momentarily stunned. You wait for her to follow up, to ask about the text, but she doesn’t. As you both step into the Beautiful Beast studio, you start to ask if you can talk later, but Leigh gets there first.

“We can pick this up later, Y/N. We should really get to class,” she says, heading into the room full of waiting students without waiting for your answer.

You're left more stumped than ever. Last time, she was almost on her knees, begging for forgiveness. Now, she's acting like nothing happened. How did everything change so much in just a week? With a head full of questions and doubts, you roll out your yoga mat and try to focus on the practice ahead. You can't help but wonder if the kiss you shared with Leigh really happened or if it was just a mirage of your desires.

You struggle through some of the poses, wobbling and nearly toppling over more than once. Leigh, however, doesn't chide or correct you as she used to; she mostly leaves you alone, focusing instead on helping others who are struggling more than you. It makes you feel strangely isolated, even though you know she's just fulfilling her role as an instructor and there are plenty of beginners in tonight’s session.

As the hour winds down, Leigh's soft “Namaste” signals the end of the class. She bows gracefully to the students, and you don't waste a moment, rising immediately to make your way to her as she rolls up her mat.

“Leigh.”

“Hey,” she responds breathlessly, not looking up. Other students pass by, thanking her, and she responds with smiles and cheerful “see you next times.” You stand there, feeling awkward as you wait for a turn.

When the last person leaves, Leigh finally looks up at you. “What's up?” she asks.

You find yourself stuttering, still fixated on the text message. Feeling a bit pathetic about how much it’s affecting you, but you shake it off, remembering why you cut your visit to Camden short. It was because of this—because of her.

“Leigh, can we talk? About... you know, how we left things that night?”

Her face remains jarringly impartial as she wipes down her mat. “Talk? Here? Right now?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I don't mean right this second,” you clarify, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. Are you the only one feeling like you're on a tightrope? 

“You haven't had dinner yet, right?” You try to sound nonchalant too, but it's a struggle.

She looks around the emptying studio as if she needs a moment to consider. After a few beats, she nods. “Sure, why not? I’ll just change and meet you out front.”

You can't help but smile, mainly out of relief that she said yes. “Great, see you in a minute,” you say, realizing you need to change into drier clothes too.

Fifteen minutes later, Leigh steps out, looking refreshed as if she didn't just burn through a few hundred calories leading a rigorous yoga session. She's wearing a cozy gray sweater and cargo pants, a much more laid-back look compared to your jeans and cardigan.

As she draws near, she tilts her head slightly and says, “I actually brought a car. Have you thought of where we're going to get dinner?”

You scramble to think of a suitable place. In-N-Out pops into your head—quick, easy, but completely wrong for the kind of talk you need to have. You can't imagine hashing out your feelings under the harsh lights of a fast food place, over burgers and fries.

“Um,” you stammer, looking around like inspiration might hit you in the face. 

“How about we head to your apartment?” Leigh suggests out of nowhere. “It's closer, and we could grab some drive-thru on the way.”

You blink at her suggestion, surprised she'd even consider it after everything that went down last time at your place.

“There's only one parking spot,” you say blankly. “And the street has no parking after 10 p.m.”

Leigh seems unfazed, offering a quick solution. “Then we’ll just take your car. I can leave mine here.”

Your nerves flare at the thought of having her back in your apartment. Your tongue feels heavy, and you can't think of a single reason to tell her why it’s a bad idea.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Let's do that.”

You head to your car together, fumbling with the keys as you unlock it. Leigh slips into the passenger seat, and you take a deep breath before starting the engine. You pull into a drive-thru of In-N-Out and Leigh scrolls through her phone, picking out what to order. 

You know Leigh well enough to recognize that she never acts without intention. She must have agonized about this too—about that kiss, about you. And she's making it difficult for you to guess just what conclusions she had come to in the time you were apart.

-

The takeout is spread across your dining table, a small feast that Leigh ordered for the two of you. Boxes of fries, nuggets, and burgers crowd the surface, enough to feed a group. You barely nibble on a fry while Leigh is already finishing her cheeseburger, wiping her fingers with a napkin and eyeing the remaining food.

“You weren’t hungry, huh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Guess not,” you reply, wiping away the residual salt from your fingers.

Leigh takes a sip of her drink, washing down the last bite before looking at you with purpose. “Mind if I go first?” she asks.

You narrow your eyes. So, she's eager to dive right in. “Sure, go ahead,” you say. You observe Leigh closely for the first time in what feels like ages. Concealer cakes beneath her eyes, settling into the natural wrinkles there. She’s still undeniably beautiful, but there's a tiredness to her now that’s hard to miss. Her cheeks, usually lifted by her prominent cheekbones, seem hollowed out more than usual.

“I guess I want to start by saying that I'm…” Leigh trails off, her eyes darting around as if the right words might be hidden among the packets of ketchup and silverware. “...a horrible person.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she cuts you off smoothly.

“No, listen. You were right. I ignore you out of nowhere. I take advantage of your kindness. And it’s not just you—I’ve been doing this with everyone around me for a while now. I haven't cared about what others think or feel because I was focused on being true to myself, always playing the ‘dead husband’ card. I’ve taken everyone's patience and understanding for granted, and I’m really, really sorry.”

You sit back, stunned. The whole evening, you'd braced for a different kind of conversation. You expected Leigh to say the kiss was a mistake—just a result of nerves or a lapse in judgment driven by jealousy. You had been so sure she'd shut you down, just like all the other times. 

“You're sorry?” The words slip out unbidden, tinged with surprise and skepticism.

“Yeah,” she says, looking you square in the eye. “I know it's hard to believe, but I really am sorry for how I've treated you.”

It’s going well—too well. Your mind struggles to accept it, but your heart?

“I thought you were going to say that night was a mistake. That the kiss meant nothing,” you whisper so faintly, almost as if you don't want her to hear.

“It kept me up for nights,” Leigh replies just as softly, “and that doesn’t usually happen to me over a simple kiss.”

Your heart soars.

She doesn’t regret it. She’s sorry. This is all going too well.

“It was on my mind the whole time, even when I was all the way across the country,” you whisper wantonly. 

The corners of Leigh’s lips twitch upward, and you can't tell if it's a good sign. Her saying she’s just as affected blinds you to any other cues that might suggest otherwise.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Leigh says darkly, leaning back into her chair with a weary slump. “Because I’m done living in half-truths and half-realities. I can’t handle any more surprises.”

You feel a flash of confusion, trying to stitch together what Leigh might say next. She knows about your cheesy alter-ego on her advice column, the details of your past with Matt. But half-truths? What does she mean by that?

Leigh meets your gaze, and there’s something about her stare that tells you she’s coming apart, yet she's clenching every muscle to keep herself intact. You want to reach across the table, to offer a touch that might steady her, but her hands are hidden, clenched in her lap beneath the table. Her shoulders hunch, making her seem smaller, as if she's trying to fold into herself.

“Leigh, just tell me,” you urge, though not impatiently.

She exhales slowly, the breath you hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I broke up with Danny,” she finally says, and for a brief, absurd moment, relief washes over you. 

That's…it? 

Your smile starts to form, naive in its inception, but it’s quickly stifled as Leigh’s voice drops lower, and her next words cut through the nascent joy. 

“And then he said something I didn't think could drive the dagger Matt left in my heart any deeper,” she says slowly, like she’s having a hard time dragging every syllable.

Leigh takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling deliberately. “He told me he was pretty involved when you and Matt got together. That you first knew him as Nick, and he helped Matt reach out to you.”

Your heart sinks. You had almost forgotten that night with Danny when you discovered his real identity and how he fit into everything. He'd begged you to keep quiet, and in his desperation, you agreed—not because he pleaded, but because you believed Leigh was happy with him. It wasn’t your secret to reveal, not then.

You've known this all along and never said a word. Your throat tightens as panic sets in, your heart racing with the implications of having kept this from Leigh. Guilt pricks at you, cold and sharp.

“I…” Your voice falters, and you swallow hard, thinking, This is it, this is how I lose her. 

“I didn’t think it was my place to say anything,” you say. “I thought you were happy with him. I didn’t want to be the one to—”

“Y/N,” Leigh interjects softly. Her tone stops you cold—it's not angry, just… defeated. Which, somehow, feels worse. She looks down, twisting a napkin between her fingers. “I’m telling you this because I’m finding out that secrets can be just as hard to handle as loss.”

You nod absentmindedly, still processing, and move to clear the table in a daze. Wrapping up the leftover food, you tuck it into the fridge. The mundane task doesn't ease the tightness in your chest, but it gives your hands something to do.

“You’re not upset I didn’t tell you?” you ask, like you can’t believe you’ll come out of this conversation unscathed.

Leigh takes her time to answer. With your focus on tidying up, you miss the way her hands ball into fists. When she finally speaks, her voice has a steely edge for the first time this evening.

“At first, I was livid, of course. But Danny bore the brunt of it. He claimed he wanted me, but he was never on my side. If he were, he would’ve never helped Matt cheat on me.”

You finish tucking the last container into the fridge and lean back against the counter, your eyes on Leigh. She's staring out the window. How is it that she’s telling you these things, yet it still feels like she’s not revealing anything at all?

“I should’ve told you sooner,” you say softly. “I’m sorry.”

Leigh gets up and walks toward you. She stops so close that your breath catches. You remember the last time she was this near, how the world blurred, and how hard it was to think clearly. You can see the way her jaw tightens as she takes a breath.

“It wasn’t your secret to tell,” she says.

“But—” you start to say, though the thought fizzles out as she steps even closer.

“You're okay in that regard,” she murmurs, her voice low. 

In that regard? 

You want to ask what she means, but Leigh shuffles nearer still, her eyes searching your face. She's so close now that you can see the faint reflection of the kitchen light in her eyes, specs of yellow in darkened green. It’s nothing short of dazzling.

“Do you forgive me for last time?” she asks quietly. 

A lump forms in your throat, and all you can think about is how desperately you don't want to mess this up. You had forgiven her long before stepping onto a plane back to Maine. It happened as soon as you let her walk away that night, but you just couldn't accept how easy it was. 

You nod, unable to trust your ability to speak. 

Leigh's eyes soften as she watches you. Her fingertips brush against your jaw, her touch feather-light. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you, then?” she asks, both careful and seductive.

Your resounding yes comes in the form of you closing the gap, your lips meeting hers like an arrow striking its target. Leigh’s arms wrap around your shoulders instinctively, her fingers brushing the back of your neck, and you pull her in even tighter, deepening the kiss. Her breath mingles with yours as she sighs softly against your mouth, and it’s only then that when you feel all of her that Los Angeles starts to feel like a second home.

There are still questions, an unending list that always surfaces around Leigh, but they evaporate one by one when her tongue flicks out, seeking entrance. You surrender, lips parting, allowing her to taste you. The kiss grows with a messy urgency in seconds. Her hands roam down your back, gripping tightly as she presses in, as if trying to melt into you. You draw her nearer, your chests flush together as the kiss becomes wet and breathless.

Your apartment is silent except for your soft pants and the slick sounds of your lips meeting.  Doubts about your ability to please a woman creep in after such a long hiatus. But before these thoughts can take hold, Leigh takes charge. She grabs your hips and gently guides you backward toward the bedroom, cutting off any chance for you to slow things down.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to slip your cardigan off your shoulders and whisper, her breath warm against your lips, “Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

It seems almost unfair for her to pose that question while simultaneously moving to your neck, drawing a soft groan from you. Her teeth gently graze a sensitive spot just below your clavicle, applying pressure that promises to leave a mark, then soothing it with her tongue.

Leigh smirks when she feels you struggle for breath, much less for words. Your knees buckle slightly, but she holds you up with a firm grip, guiding you back until you bump against the edge of the bed. 

You know you're on the verge of something that might change everything, but right now, you're entirely Leigh's. There's no space to consider the implications, to remember that she was Matt's grieving widow just months ago. Right now, she's just the girl who holds your attention completely, the one who couldn't get rid of you even if she tried.

Leigh tumbles with you onto the bed, her thighs straddling your hips. With practiced ease, she removes her shirt and bra all at once, leaving her bare above you. The sight strips you of any last coherent thought. She isn’t the image of perfection peddled in glossy and well-curated social feeds; her body is beautifully real. Her tits look heavy and asymmetrical, round as grapefruit; her nipples pinkish-brown, pebbled and inviting. There’s a soft fold in her belly, and an overwhelming desire washes over you to kiss it. You think you might die just from looking at her.

You look up at Leigh and tell her, reverently, “You’re so devastatingly beautiful.” 

Leigh's cheeks flush as she tries to hide her smile behind her hair. “You don't have to tell me that,” she whispers. “You already got me into your bed.”

You chuckle, nerves still humming under the surface. “You were just as beautiful when devouring a cheeseburger.” Both of you laugh, the sound light and easy, allowing some of the thick sexual energy to dissipate slightly. 

You find yourself relaxing just enough to admit, “I'm not sure how to touch you right, but I want to make you feel good.”

“Just do whatever feels good for you,” she suggests, her expression softening further.

You scrunch your face a little at her, letting out a small chuckle. “That’s the thing—I haven't been getting much action myself.”

Leigh’s smile spreads wider into something mischievous and you swallow dryly at the sight. She shifts off your lap and settles at your side, propping herself up on one arm to look down at you. “Let me help you with that,” she murmurs, her voice low.

You're no longer smiling, feeling your face flush as you ask, “What do you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, Leigh’s fingers trace down to the button of your pants, deftly unfastening it. She gently scratches the skin beneath with her fingernail before sliding the zipper down. You watch as she bites her lip at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear before glancing back up at you. Her pupils are wide, the deep green of her irises barely visible in the surrounding darkness.

“Take them off,” she instructs softly.

You swallow heavily and do as she says, trying not to cover yourself despite feeling incredibly vulnerable. You haven't been naked in front of anyone in so long, and you're embarrassed by how exposed and wet you are right now.

Leigh watches you closely, and you can see the desire burning in her gaze. With her free hand, she reaches for you, her touch gentle, coaxing your thighs open as she trails her fingers up your inner thigh. You draw a sharp breath and close your eyes, expecting her fingers to graze your wetness next.

But Leigh surprises you—and herself—by guiding your right hand just below your navel, her fingers warm and sure on your wrist. Her times with Danny were about dominating and taking, but with you, she wants to give, to watch, to soak up every moan, every breathy reaction, every shiver. She wants to see you take pleasure for yourself, deriving her own pleasure from it.

“Start there,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. “Tease yourself.”

Your hand hovers there, and she gives a slight nod of encouragement. As her touch slips away, you begin to explore the softness of your own skin, tracing light circles below your belly button. You utter a soft, “Fuck,” when your fingertips graze your slick, discovering just how turned on you really are. The filthy noises it creates make you whimper.

Leigh watches you hungrily. “You should be doing this more often,” she murmurs, eyes tracing the movement of your fingers now glistening with your own arousal. “You're so fucking hot. It's such a shame.”

The sound of her voice makes you arch your back further, hips bucking as you start a wide circular motion against your clit. Exerting every ounce of control not to come right away, you focus on the sensation of Leigh's eyes on you and the stimulation from your own fingers. You want to hold out, to let her watch you teeter on the edge. Your teeth dig into your lower lip, trying to curb the wave of pleasure building inside you.

Leigh's voice is a soothing command, whispering, “That's it, be patient. Don't rush it.”

“Fuck, Leigh, I’m—” Your words die in your throat as she lifts your shirt slowly, exposing your nipple to the cool air for a brief moment before her mouth engulfs it. The sensation of her sucking, then laving your nipple with her tongue, circling it, mimicking the motion you're doing on your clit, sends a jolt through you. Little flicks of her tongue to the tip of your nipple drive you crazy, and you gasp, your body responding eagerly to her touch.

Your rhythm stutters as she discards her pants and panties in one swift motion, leaving her gloriously bare. The sight of her naked body ignites a strong wave of desire to touch her instead, but Leigh pins you with a warning glare, silently telling you not to stop.

She straddles one of your legs, and you gasp when you feel her warm, wet pussy against your knee as she starts rocking against it. You position your leg to give her better leverage, and she starts sliding against you, her tits bouncing with each motion. Leigh's sucking on your nipple becomes sloppier, more frantic, until she can no longer concentrate and releases it with a wet pop.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N—” 

Leigh’s face contorts in pleasure as her drenched folds meet your thigh over and over, sweat dripping down between her breasts from the strain of holding herself up above you. The sight of her fucking herself against your leg is nothing short of mesmerizing. You increase the movements of your fingers, rubbing harshly at your clit as you watch Leigh, her breath coming in short gasps. Her eyes flutter closed, and a soft moan escapes her lips. The sound drives you wild, and you curve your spine, lifting your hips to meet your own hand.

Sex with anyone else has never felt this good before, and she hasn’t even properly touched you yet. It’s intoxicating, the way she takes her pleasure and gives it to you all at once. You’re lost in the haze of it all: the smell of Leigh’s arousal, her sweat-soaked skin, the sight of her tits bouncing and her face flushed with desire.

With your free hand, you grab the back of Leigh's head, guiding her down towards you. “C-Come here,” you manage to say, your voice breaking with need. 

Leigh obeys, her mouth meeting yours in a frenzied kiss. You swallow each other's moans, the taste of her lips sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. It's this simple, sweet connection of lips that utterly dissolves all your defenses.

A keening moan escapes you as Leigh slides a finger inside you, pushing deep to the third knuckle, causing your head to tip back and break the kiss as the tightness in your belly becomes too much. “Leigh, can I—” Your voice is a mere whisper, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Leigh's eyes meet yours, and she nods vigorously, her breath coming in short gasps. “Yes, come. Come with me.”

It's too much—the sight, the sounds, the feel of her—it’s all too much. With a final, shuddering whine, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and releasing as you ride out the intense pleasure. Moments later, Leigh follows, her body shaking as she comes, her moans mingling with yours. Leigh’s face is a picture of bliss, her eyes half-closed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. You try to memorize it before she collapses on top of you, a sweaty mess of tangled limbs and satisfied sighs.

Blindly, you stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath, feeling Leigh's hot puffs of air tickle your neck as she catches hers. Slowly, you circle your arms around her waist, keeping her on top of you, acutely aware of every point where your skin meets hers, the warmth spreading between you. 

You bury your nose in her hair and breathe in deeply. This act feels more intimate than anything you had done moments ago. The simple closeness, the quiet afterglow, the way you can actually feel her heart beating steadily against your chest.

Minutes pass in comfortable silence, your thumb tracing lazy patterns on her back. Her breathing gradually evens out, each exhale growing softer and deeper. Realizing she's fallen asleep, a contented smile spreads across your face. You press a gentle kiss to her temple, letting your lips linger there for a moment. Carefully, you reach for the covers and draw them over both of you. You hold her close until your own eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep as well.

[iwriteasfotini]

Sirius' Moon

In honor of the December full moon, here is a Remus themed excerpt for you to enjoy!

James POV, summer before third year Rating: Teen 750 words

But the July full moon had been the first moon where Sirius and Remus had been apart since last September. And Sirius was a hot mess for roughly forty-eight hours. 

It was so bad, Effie became seriously concerned and asked Sirius if he needed to go to St Mungo’s. Sirius would not eat anything. He was alternating between frantically pacing around the house and lying lifeless in bed. He refused to fall asleep, telling James to wake him up if he did. But they both eventually drifted off; Sirius was even more distraught when they awoke to sunlight streaming in through the windows. 

“Machi, Remus dealt with his transformations for six years before coming to Hogwarts. He is with his mum. His dad built him an amazing cellar to transform in. Just calm down.”

But Sirius would not calm down. “You don’t understand James. What if the magic of the cellar has worn off? What if he hurt himself and Madam Pomfrey isn’t there to heal him? What if —” Sirius let a sob slip through and dropped his head into his hands. 

“Sirius,” James said quietly, sitting down next to his friend and rubbing circles on his back. “Sirius, take a deep breath.” Sirius was sobbing hysterically into his hands. James was honestly unsure about what to do. But he figured sitting with Sirius and helping him regain control over his breathing was where he should start. 

“Moony is fine machi. He is tougher than any of us. And his parents know how to take care of him. Look, let’s ask Am’mā if we can floo call him later ok. It is eight in the morning, we need to give him some time to recover.”

Sirius nodded and his crying ebbed. It was slightly awkward—James and Sirius had decided it was best to not tell Effie and Monty what they knew about Remus’ lycanthropy—but when James asked to floo call, Effie did not protest in the slightest. 

She had them kneel on the hearth rug side by side with their heads stuck into the fireplace to speak to Remus, who was wrapped in several thick blankets and sipping a cup of tea. Sirius had practically melted when Remus had given them a weak smile. And James kept his thoughts to himself. Though he was also glad to see Remus in one piece. 

“Madam Pomfrey sent as much dittany tincture, dreamless sleep, calming draught, and pepper-up potion as she could home with me,” Remus told them in a scratchy voice. “It’s only one more full moon and we will be back at Hogwarts.”

“Where is your mum?” Sirius had asked. 

“She has been with me since dad got me out of the cellar. She is giving me some privacy,” Remus smiled again, though it looked strained. 

“We miss you,” Sirius had said. 

“Yeah, I miss you guys too.”

James was about to ask Remus if he also wanted to come stay for a week, when Sirius said abruptly, “well we’ve got to run. We’ll floo you again in August after the full moon, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Banging. Keep sending me letters, I like knowing what you two get up to.”

“It’s not the same without you and Pete,”said  Sirius. 

“Still, the letters are entertaining. Mam thinks you two are clinically insane.”

“You show our letters to your mum!” gasped Sirius, as if nothing could ever be so scandalous.

Remus nodded again. “She’s a muggle. She loves anything to do with the magical world and she thinks your perspective of muggle life is hilarious.”

“Glad we could be so entertaining,” Sirius grumbled. 

“Hey, just because you have a terrible relationship with your mam, doesn’t mean we all do.” Remus was actually looking at Sirius with narrowed eyes and a scowl. 

“I’m sorry Moony. You are right. I’m sure your mum is lovely. We’ll write you soon, yeah? We’ll write you tonight!”

They had ended the call and scooted back out of the fireplace. 

“Blimey, my kneecaps feel like they are about to crack in half,” James had said, rubbing his knees. 

“Thank you,” was all Sirius said quietly, to no one in particular. He was significantly calmer for the remainder of the day. 

But as James lay in his bed next to a deeply breathing Sirius, he wondered if there wasn’t something he could do to make the next full moon slightly less intense for his best friend. Unfortunately, he had not come up with anything before he fell asleep himself.

...

This is an excerpt from my upcoming fic The Bonds of Friendship which will begin posting on Ao3 on February 14, 2025. Find out more in my pinned post.

[gremlinandacrow]

Crackle Short (Angst)

Yet another Crackle post! This time it's a short story and is nothing but musing! But it's also them going through a gender crisis.

I didn't write this with a specific time in mind, other than sometime after a session my group had in December! And also I'll admit when I initially wrote this earlier this month, it was out of some good old, wonderful, inspiration~ So thank @adrenalineangel for this short story!

Content Warning: Internalized Transphobia, mentions of past injuries, and a slight emotional outburst near the end!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Crackle’s latest form was taken from him, he legitimately has this thought gnawing at the back of his head that keeps going, “This doesn’t feel right.” At first, when he can’t shove that thought away by fighting or spending time with his friends, he reasons that…It was fun “pretending” to be a girl. He was like Emanuel when he does drag. But then his brain tells him, “But you prolonged it. Didn’t you feel happier?”

Hah, no, he wasn’t! It was just…A long joke! A-and if the joke wasn’t him being a girl, it was obviously the fact that he was a human again. Ha! Yeah, last time he was a human, he fell for Merlin’s tricks and paid for it!

“But when Norie reversed it, you weren’t hurt physically. Your skin didn’t feel like it was being torn apart…Right?”

…Not physically. That same, bubbling emotion he felt when he lost his first human form was there: Guilt that had once locked itself into his heart.

Except why was that guilt back? He didn’t destroy anyone’s sons-

…He wasn’t tricked into destroying anyone’s sons this time.

During the long nights, when he was female…He slept easier. Whenever he had the chance to wear something frilly, dresses especially, he laughed louder, brightened more. Tonight, after nursing plenty of drinks at the tavern, he still couldn’t sleep. He faced the cracked ceiling, alone with his dreadful thoughts.

He couldn’t be normal in any sense, could he?

No, he couldn’t have been born alongside a clan of dragonborns. He couldn’t go off on an average adventure, where all he’d do is eat, drink, and electrocute anyone who stood in his party’s way. Most of all, he…He couldn’t even look, or act like a true dragonborn.

Deep within the concaves of his chest, he felt more guilt crawling and eating away at him.

So what if he was happy? He didn’t deserve comfort, especially not after what he’s done. A monster never learns, it destroys, and that is all it will do until it is slain.

Ugh. That battle he had a while ago…That was his best work. Things went to plan…Except when he was stabbed. He gripped his midsection like the wounds were still there. That fire that burned as he felt his guts spill and be arranged back, thanks to Quinn, was still a potent memory.

…Quinn. They weren’t like most people. They…They didn’t seem to care about who they were. In fact, any anguish they faced was because someone, or something, stopped them. They’d figure out some loophole in no time after that. They were one of the smartest people Crackle ever knew.

And…He wondered how they knew who they were. Was it instant, like his breath? Or…Did they too stay up at night, wondering if…If something was wrong with them? Though, Crackle never saw an imperfection in their best friend (aside from that one time they won against him in a race, but he was definitely over that, trust him). Honestly, they reminded him of…Snaps.

What did they say, when Crackle first became a girl? He...Looked nice as a girl.

He should tell them. Maybe they’d clear it up, say it was a joke! Or that it didn’t count, or-

Crackle shut his maw closed. He felt a slight build-up of sparks prickle his throat, wanting to escape. It had been…So long, since he spewed his electricity over a “tantrum” (or what Pops deemed as one). Why was he so upset over this?

He glanced at the doorway that would’ve led to the other rooms. The tavern was big, larger than most other places the party crashed at. Everyone had their own room. It was…Interesting for Crackle. Even in the deepest recesses of his mind, he couldn’t recall a time where he had his own space. Maybe that was the real reason why he couldn’t sleep-

Before he realized it, he faced Quinn’s door. It was the dead of night. If they weren’t sleeping, they were either still down at the bar drinking, or studying alchemy, or…Or…

He felt stupid standing here. He…He knew Quinn. They’d be pissed he knocked on their door in the middle of the night, sure, but…They wouldn’t dismiss him. They wouldn’t treat his words like a baseless mutter or some insult that they’d think was directed at them.

He hoped that wouldn’t be the case. But he’s been wrong before.

Raising his knuckles, he was about to knock on their door. He wasn’t sure what he’d say, but…He’d rather bite the bolt, if his thoughts were nothing then at least he’d let the metaphorical sharp point stab his throat. That would be the consequence of unloading his burdens. As he knocked, the hollow sound seemed to boom across the hallway. He hoped, no, he prayed that no one else would wake up.

This was something he trusted Quinn, and them alone, with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you liked reading this! ...More Crackle posting soon, I promise they've had their happier moments! And sorry to those who don't exactly understand all the references I just love Crackle and the campaign and aoghksjhajkhfjkgajlk

[hinumdom]

life update

before 2024 ends, i want to make one last life update post to conclude the year.

october

this got to be the most challenging month for me. i haven't mentioned this in any of my previous posts but i joined a best dance crew competition within the company. while the training was eating away my free time (weekdays and weekends), my father was in and out of the hospital. first, it was his gallstones so he had it removed. second, it was about his heart. we found out he developed a congestive heart failure (CHF). the procedure to address this is really expensive so currently, he's on meds until we're financially ready for an angioplasty. lastly, he suffered a mild stroke two days before my competition. at the wee hours of the morning after my training (ended past 11pm), i was on a motorcycle with the rider speeding across the expressway. i remember it was drizzling but i couldn't care less. i arrived at the emergency room after 30mins, saw my father hooked into this machine supporting his breathing, looking so thin and pale. this was probably the first time i've seen him this weak. he had always preserved his image as the pillar of our family but at that moment, i realized he wasn't as invincible as the nickname "pillar" says. he had to be admitted to the ICU so i paid for the downpayment. fortunately, he showed improvement the following day. his recovery was pretty steady so by the end of the second day, he was transferred to a regular room. he was able to regain his motor and language skills the following days and the lab tests showed that the stroke was reversed. we were all relieved. on the same day when he was transferred to a regular room, i had my competition and my team was reigned as champions against 14 groups.

i honestly didn't know how i managed to survive. i recall coming home just to get some sleep and a change of clothes, go to work the next day, and train right after work. it was like i was moving on autopilot. i even had no time to dwell on my feelings about my father's condition knowing i wasn't there physically with him all the time. i couldn't even imagine what my older sister was feeling while she was an ocean apart from us. Luckily, everything turned out okay.

november

my father was discharged from the hospital. fortunately, there were no more emergency visits to the hospital. he still had follow-up consultations to monitor his progress. he started seeing a physical therapist to assist his recovery.

on the other hand, as champions of the best dance crew competition, we were asked to perform a new piece on the company-wide christmas celebration. they were expecting about 8,000 people who're gonna watch us so we dedicated a whole month of training once again. except this time, i didn't have to worry much about my father knowing he's at home surrounded with family and showing tremendous improvement.

amidst all of these, my friend and i made an impulsive decision to go to baguio. left early in the morning and came home late at night. people told us we were crazy for doing that but i think we had the most fun and really made use of our limited time there. i'll probably make a separate post about this. anyway, we came home physically tired but mentally happy and contented.

december

ever since we won the dance competition, we were invited to perform at three events, the company-wide christmas celebration being the biggest event. even though we were exhausted from the training, we were really happy and proud to show and prove why we were chosen as winners. it was thrilling to hear the shouts from the audience and have the spotlight on you as you dance your heart out. i'm so glad i joined the team. also, i lost a lot of weight, probably around 9kg. i returned to my weight when i first joined the company two years ago.

we also had our department christmas party at boudica cafe bar. i got home wasted (lol) but i had fun, nevertheless. however, i think it would've been more fun if we went to a ktv bar.

lastly, this was the first christmas celebration that we are complete after two years. we went all out with the gifts and had karaoke at home. also, to reward myself (and so that i have a better camera to use on seventeen's concert this coming january), i bought a new phone. i felt like i deserve a gift from myself.

[aromanticle]

this is gonna sound really stupid but nothing makes me feel better than wearing a collar and acting like a dog/pet and i'm gonna try to explain why

i was having like a mild panic attack for no apparent reason just half an hour ago and the first thing i did was pour my food onto a bowl and put my collar on so i'd go into dog mode, then i laid down and cuddled trotsky for a few minutes while slowing down my breathing enough so i could activate the proper dogbrain and focus on getting as comfy as humanly possible to finish my shitty little dinner with no hands. by the time i got to start eating i was so much calmer i even got sleepy

i got my first item that resembled a collar about a year ago, it was a simple choker with an o-ring and i got it at the fair. when i got home i took out the bell from a cat collar (that doesn't fit me cause i'm a lot bigger than a cat) and put it on the back of my choker so it would feel more like something an animal would wear rather than just an accessory

months later in december or january idk i bought two actual dog collars from a pet store online and since then i've been wearing my collars almost every night

i like to sleep with one of them on and whenever i feel uncomfortable i put one on really tight and sit on the floor with my chin on the bed and it makes everything better p much instantly

it may be the way it gently presses down on the two neck arteries so after a couple hours i get really dizzy or the way it makes it just a bit more difficult to breathe or just the cosy vibes it brings tbh

later on i started eating popcorn from a bowl with my mouth like a dog, i'd just put the bowl on a folded blankie and get on all fours and eat food with my face inside the bowl and it looks ridiculous but it makes me feel so much more comfy when i'm overwhelmed and stressed out

sometimes at night i tie yarn to my bedpost and attach it to my collar (i don't have a proper leash or chains cause i think i wouldn't be able to explain it if someone found it) and i sleep while tied to my bed all curled up without a blankie over me cause it feels better when i'm just there

i feel like someday i'd like to be able to sleep in a cage but it's obviously not gonna be in my own house cause uh. that'd be impossible to hide i'd need a very big cage to get comfy. but if i move out someday and go live by myself i'd like to have a cage for me to sleep in or just go inside during the day

all of this has its downsides of course like sometimes when i'm out or when i'm with someone i get a bit overwhelmed and my brain immediately goes into dog mode without my permission and i have this urge to get comfy in bed or lie on the floor a bit and put on my collar and sometimes when i'm in dog mode i want to chew on things and end up biting my fingers because i haven't yet made a plan to hide the dog toys i want to get in a place where no one would find it bcs they tend to be quite colorful and not very small and like out of all the things i'd need to hide from people in my house the dog toys are definitely the most embarrassing like i don't think i'd be able to explain it even to my sister who sorta understands me

honestly all i want when/if i move out in the near future (other than a kitchen i could organize the way i want and fairy lights in every room) is a big dog cage with pillows, a carpet, a box of dog toys, a food bowl and a place for me to keep all my collars leashes and chains . that is literally The Dream

[katarh-mest]

ADHD Things: First day of Vyanse.

Everyone says to take notes on how it's making me feel. Might as well Tumblr live blog it.

Long and super detailed so under a cut.

Took 40mg at 6:45 AM. Made coffee but went back to sleep because I didn't have to be "at work" (I work from home) until 8AM.

Got back up at 7:15 am because I couldn't get back to sleep. Figured I'd play some XIV on an alt. Made coffee.

7:45 AM - ran back and got dressed, played with the cat.

8:00 AM: Put together my coffee. I had a fresh quarter of milk. I only drink milk with my coffee, so what I generally do is freeze two thirds of it in two additional two cup containers so it doesn't go bad before I finish it. This is normally a task I would put off for some stupid fucking reason but I just.... did it? So that was cool.

9:00 AM: Got some work stuff done. Appetite: ravenous (this is the opposite of what I was told would happen) so made myself eat some fiber cereal for breakfast.

9:45 AM actually answered a client phone call instead of praying someone else would grab it! I still panicked though.

Actually got up when the FitBit "you haven't moved enough" alarm went off at 9:50

Saw dirt and just cleaned it. Instead of thinking, "I should clean that sometime." Unfortunately this led to the "roomba stuck under the couch" and I continued cleaning even though I'm supposed to be working.

Second client call at 10:06 AM. Same client called back that I talked to before. Talked them through where the table was in the database where they needed to blast off a setting on every single product in their system. (Basic SQL, I didn't need to write the script for them to do it.)

10:15 AM. Still ravenous. So much for "this medicine might make you forget to eat." Eating some yogurt.

Resting heart rate has jumped up to 95 bpm.

All our clients were forced to upgrade versions over the weekend and there is mass panic and chaos on schools who updated without preparing correctly.

I'm just.... looking at my ADHD piles, sighing, and taking care of them. This is good from a tidying perspective, but not so good because I am supposed to be working at the computer. But at least I finally put away the giant mess of paperwork from my the inheritance debacle last December and January. (Disabled sister inherited money and we had to establish a Special Needs Trust so she wouldn't get kicked off her much needed government assistance.)

10:56 AM I, uh, sat down and filled out the pretty planner I have.

11:44 AM Hungry again. Ate surimi and baby vegetables. I'm executing tasks on demand, but I'm not happy about it? I'm just doing them. It's easy, but I'm not excited. Maybe that's a good thing. The task itself has become an emotionless process. No dread at having to do it, but also no relief at it being done. Task switching is also easier. Honestly, having this post open is great for preventing me from wasting time on Tumblr instead of working, I guess.

12:20 PM Did my DuoLingo. Having anxiety attack breathing. Made myself do breathing exercises. Felt better. Ate a cookie.

12:30 PM Spinning my wheels because I don't want to go back to work yet. Made myself go anyway. An hour later, work is miraculously done.

1:30 PM - Nauseous. Drinking ginger ale. Work meeting, ugh.

2:30 - hour into work meeting, nausea faded into hunger again. made myself a ham and cheese roll up. I have been keeping my sanity into this work meeting by playing Pokémon go during the more boring bits. thank goodness for no webcam on my main desktop.....

3:15 - Work meeting devolved into a troubleshooting session over the issue we fan into last Friday.

4:15 - Our lead developer is a miracle worker. He pinned down the ephemeral bug that was haunting us like an invasive beetle to a bug board. And wrote a query to fix the issue in production while we wait for a hotfix for release.

4:30 - Made dinner. Somehow during the 2 hour work meeting I had the foresight to pull out the shrimp to warm up a bit. Made all the difference.

5:00 - I swear all the people who say they have no appetite on this stuff are built different. I'm chowing down on a salad like I haven't even in 2.5 days, not just 2.5 hours.

5:30 - Email bombshell from a client. I didn't panic! I did resent the interruption of my planned post workday walk.

5:45 - Say fuck it and go walking anyway. The email can wait.

6:15 PM - Come back and write the reply. Fuck that client.

6:20 Very thirsty. I should make some tea when the room mate vacates the kitchen.

6:30 - Time to goof off in XIV before anime

7:00 PM - shoujo night weeee!

8:45 Log back into XIV for the Caff Dad MSQ stream (I'm a groupie)

9:30 - It's all FFXIV from this point on so no point in continuing this.

11PM bed

[pronouncedloti]

i never would've imagined that i would get to keep a pet, especially a cat, not until december 6, 2024.

i had loki, my first ever personal kitten.

i was doing my research that time, when suddenly pumasok yung anak ni shaj. she wanted to eat, so i gave her the food she and her mom (shaj) usually eat. after that, humiga s'ya sa taas ng bigasan namin. but yo, i was like, baka kailangan n'ya si shaj so i put that cat named "glue" sa arms ko and went outside. i was searching for shaj, when i saw this tiny kitten, nakaupo sa gitna ng mga umiinom.

i asked them that time kung kanila ba yung pusa since it looked clean, and parang may owner. i picked it up and it was surprisingly light. i put it down and nagtago s'ya sa ilalim ng motor. binaba ko rin si glue cs i wanna let them meet each other.

after a few seconds, binuhat ko sya and took her sa bahay. she was so small. nilagay ko s'ya sa lap ko, while i was typing my research out. then sa right shoulder ko, then i took a picture of us.

she loves being on my right shoulder. nakatulog din sya sa chest ko. binaba ko na sya that time, and si glue is nakaupo sa biagasan namin na nasa ilalim ng table. she tried to get closed to glue by climbing off but!! she fell out😂, sakto sa balde. she also fell asleep there. aft i was done, kinuha ko yung navobox na walang laman and put her inside, then sa may bandang uluhan para di mapansin ni mama. but i was scared she was gonna jump off so binaba ko na sya ulit.i took yung sweater na bigay ni kim (we exchanged sweaters for the 3rd of december trend “heather”.) and nilagay s'ya sa tabi ko. i was scared that my mom would notice so hawak ko s'ya, then pareho kaming nakatulog.

i woke up, she was nowhere to be found. nagtago pala sa ilalim. she does that every time, mahilig s'yang magtago and would only come out kapag naririnig boses ko. even my mother was panicking nung akala n'ya nawala si loki, nagtatago lang pala sa damitan ko.

third day or fourth day mo no'n sa bahay, late ako umuwi tapos na-kick out ka ni mama. nasa bahay ako ng tatay mo no'n. as when i was walking, you were running to me. feel ko tuloy para kang bata na pinagalitan ng lola n'ya, well, that was what actually happened. umihi ka kasi and yung bahay, sobrang umalingasaw sa panghe, tapos sosyal ka pa kasi sa kama ka humihiga. ayan, sinipa ka palabas ni mama. i picked you up again and brought you home. ❤️

honestly, i'm starting to forget everything (i'm a forgetful person), that's why i'm coming back here in this draft to write again.

you were there, when i was upset with everyone, you walked into me and snuggled in my neck. i told you the things that upset me, even though you would not understand it. still, you were there, trying to ease my pain. i would forever miss that. every time i cried, i remember you. i always think, "si loki laging tumatabi sa 'kin 'yon kapag umiiyak ako e," and now... you're not here na. thank you, loki. you're not in the same spot na hinihigaan mo. i could not put you na sa chest ko. the day after you died, i was stroking on my chest when i woke up. i was thinking of you even in my sleep, baby. i was hoping that when i wake up fully, you would be here, sleeping. but no, you were not. i came to realization that maybe, for the last time, you wanted me to pet you as we both wake up from the long sleep.

i love you, baby. you would always have a special part in my heart. i want to tell you “i love you loki ko,” every time. i want to hear your weird meows again, i want to put you on my chest again as i look at you and tell myself how lucky i am to have you, i want to hear your breathing against my ear when you cuddle in my neck, i just want to meet you again, loki. in here, or in another life.

if i could go back, i would pick you up again. sa gitna ng mga naglalasingan, o kahit saan. i'd forever choose to have you again, baby.

i love you, my dearest loki. paalam.

[harajuku-cookie]

I'm sorry, I just need to get things off my chest, again. If I had my therapy session sooner rather than waiting over a month for it, it would've been helpful. Alas I have no choice but to wait and with no one to turn to, I'm gonna talk into the void.

I am completely mentally drained and exhausted in all sense of the word. I don't think it's been this bad since 2018. Honestly I think this time it's much worse. I rarely get out of bed unless I need to do something important or forcibly drag myself out. I can't sleep at night and sleep most of the day when I'm allowed to, well unless I'm dealing with a nightmare, which has become my daily hell. Trust me when I say I would rather dream of Michael Myers, Freddy Kruger, and Chucky chasing me than the dreams I've been having. I've been eating a lot of chocolate just to feel some kind of joy.

I don't have anyone to talk to. My mom has never been a reliable person to talk to about this stuff because she's too judgemental, doesn't get it, is too stressed out herself, or she makes me about herself like, "Oh if I can do it, so can you so you have no excuse." My friend is busy with her life and I don't feel comfortable telling her stuff like this when she's already dealing with so much. And in general I've just been feeling ignored and pushed to the side like I'm not there, like my voice doesn't matter.

All of this is starting to affect me physically to the point where I feel pain in my chest and feel my blood pressure spiking and my stomach churning from how stressed out I am. And no matter how much I try to distract myself, do all the breathing exercises, and practicing mindfulness, it hasn't worked. Hell I almost passed out in the store today from how bad it was. And I know I need to find a way to fix it, especially with surgery two weeks away, but man has it been hard.

And I know this is going to sound sad and pathetic, but literally the only thing keeping me going is Gilbert's route being released in EN soon. I'm remembering I had an attempt back in December '22 and the only thing that stopped me was that I didn't get Gilbert's 5 star card when they officially dropped in EN and I wanted more opportunities to try and win it. Then it turned into I wanted to read more stories about him, then wanting to read translations of his route that was released in JP, and now I'm trying to use his EN route release to keep moving forward, even though all I want to do is give up. If it keeps me alive, why not? Not that I'm heavily depending on a fictional character to keep me above water, just that he's part of the little pieces that give me motivation to keep going. I also want to see the surgery through and recover and hopefully feel better enough to have a new life, I want to find a good job that pays well so I can have more income to help out and do more things that I want to do, I want to make more cosplay, draw and write more, create that custom Emma doll, wear the pretty dresses, travel at the very least out of my city/state, make it to my 30th birthday, find more GF and dairy free snacks I can actually eat, read more romance books, and so on. Even if I'm on my own in all of this, if I can use these things to hold on, I'll try to keep pushing forward.

For now I'll have my good cry, eat my chocolate peanut butter cups, take a shower, and hope that maybe God will grant me mercy and make tomorrow a much better day for me.

[rip-us-xoxo]

Signs- Fred Weasley x Reader (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 06, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Request- Hiya! I was wondering if I could get number eight from your prompt list with Fred Weasley? :D I love your work! Congrats on 100!!!!

A/n- Hiya! Omg ty!!!🥺 And of course you can! I hope you like it!

——————————————————————————

Warnings- arguing (it’s not bad at all, but just in case)

——————————————————————————

To say that Fred was busy is an understatement. The man barely got any sleep, the bags under his eyes were more prominent than ever, he just looked so exhausted. You wished you could help your boyfriend, but you were feeling exhausted too. The one confusing thing though was that you didn’t even work that much, you worked at a small bookstore down the way from Weasley Wizards Wheezes 4 days a week for 5 hours, which is much less than most people.

You were also gaining weight, which was weird as well because recently you had started to eat healthier for your health and because, why not?

You were just lying in your bed one night, Fred still in his office downstairs working on some paperwork. You were reading a book when all of the sudden your boobs started to feel weird, almost sore, which was odd because you haven’t done anything all day, you were too exhausted honestly, and the only time your boobs were ever sore was after a… night… with Fred. That hasn’t happened in weeks though.

“Aw shit,” you groaned and tried to rub your boob, only making you hiss in pain, they were really tender. You tried to go back to reading but with your boobs hurting like hell and the fact that your eyes were barely able to stay open, you decided to call it a night.

As you closed your eyes, trying to fall asleep, you heard the flat door open followed by two voices. “Oi, shut up, she’s probably asleep,” you heard Fred whisper. “Okay, okay, sorry. Night,” George whispered, you then heard a door close, you assumed it was Georges bedroom door.

Then you heard your bedroom door open and a bit of shuffling before you felt a dip in your bed. Fred sighed while looking down at his already “asleep” girlfriend.

“Night my love,” he whispered to you before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulled you close to his chest before you finally let sleep take you over.

You woke up very early the next morning with the feeling that your dinner from last night was in your throat. “Oh my g-” you cut yourself off by quickly throwing Fred’s arms off of you and darting to the bathroom connected to your guy’s room. You threw up everything in your stomach into the bathtub.

You were trying to catch your breath all while trying to stay up on your knees, you felt so exhausted that you thought your limbs were going to give out. “Hey, y/n, are you alright?” you heard Fred next to you. You nodded your head and leaned your head against the edge of the bathtub.

“Come on, you get back to bed, I’ll clean this up,” he told you. You shook your head and said, “No you go, I’ll do it”. He was hesitant to follow through but he was really tired so he just complied and walked back to bed.

You cleaned out the bathtub before brushing your teeth and exiting the bathroom. As you were walking out your brain started to wander, “You could be pregnant. No! That’s crazy. You could be though. Oh my Godric shut up, you’re not.” you debated with yourself before getting back into bed with an already asleep Fred.

The morning came a little too quickly for your liking, but you had to go to work so you got up, got dressed, and ate before heading downstairs.

“Hi darling,” Fred greeted you. He and George were getting ready to open up the shop.

“Hi Freddie,” you yawned and slung your arms around his neck before giving him a light peck on the lips.

“You must be tired,” he chuckled when he looked down to see you half asleep against his chest. You just nodded your head and pulled away from him before giving him a tired smile.

“I have to go, see you later tonight,” you told him and exited the shop. He frowned at your words ‘later tonight’ but quickly replaced it with a smile and waved to you until you were out of sight.

————————————

The next few nights were filled with uncomfortable body parts and some mornings were filled with prior meals being thrown up. Fred had just assumed that it was a stomach bug and let you get all of your sicknesses out, allowing him to get more sleep before another tiring day of work.

You, on the other hand, didn’t think lightly of the sickness. They were signs that you had read about and been told about all of the time.

They were signs of pregnancy.

With Fred working all of the time, you were only able to get a quickie in before work one morning about a month ago, so there was a possible chance that you were. But it was highly unlikely. People try for years and still never get pregnant, so one quickie couldn’t possibly end up in you being pregnant, right?

You decided that the next time you didn’t have work you were going to go to Saint Mungo’s to find out if you were or not. They had just adopted a muggle technology called an ultrasound where they would see into your stomach and see if there was a baby in there.

————————————

The morning of your appointment you tried to sneak past Fred to just exit the shop but of course, he saw you.

“Hi, love! Where are you headed off to?” he asked and picked up a box off the ground before placing it back on the shelf.

You stiffened, “Um,” was all you said.

“You’re headed off to ‘um’ well that’s an odd name for a place,” he joked and hugged you, “now where are you really going?”.

“Um, I’m going to saint- I’m going to go to the bakery down the alley,” you looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any further questions.

“Alright then, get me something while you’re there. Haven’t had something sweet in ages,” he chuckled and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You smiled before quickly walking out of the shop and getting out of view before apparating to Saint Mungo’s.

————————————

Fred started to get worried when 2 hours later, you weren’t back from the bakery yet. “Maybe it’s just busy today,” he thought. But for the next 10 minutes, he couldn’t shake the bad feeling he had, “What if something bad happened to her?”.

He looked around the shop to see that there weren’t that many people, “George, I’m gonna go real quick, can you manage by yourself?” Fred asked. George nodded his head before turning to help one of the few customers.

Fred quickly hurried out of the shop and down to the bakery that you were supposedly at. He walked in and looked around, you weren’t there though. He started to panic and quickly headed back to the shop to inform George on the situation.

“Y/n’s not at the bakery where she said she would be, where is she?” Fred asked George desperately. “Behind you,” George chuckled at the panicked look on Fred’s face. Fred turned so quickly that if his head wasn’t attached to his body, it would have flown right off.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you and ran over to you and hugged you. “Oh my goodness, you scared me! Where were you?!” he asked a little too loudly, making you start to tear up. You were already emotional from the news you received but his loud voice pushed you over the edge.

“Oh, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” he cooed and hugged you tighter, “you just scared me a lot.”.

“That���s not why I’m crying,” you told him shakily.

“Well, why are you crying then?” he asked worriedly. You didn’t answer, you just grabbed his hand and led him up to the fault and into your room.

“Do you want a baby?” you asked him once you closed the door. He put a perplexed look on his face, “Why? Do you want a baby?” he asked. You didn’t answer his question again, you just took the ultrasound out of your pocket and handed it to him.

It took him a second to put the pieces together before his eyes widened, “You mean… you’re…?”, “Pregnant!” you said with as much enthusiasm as your shaking body could give out. He looked up at you with the biggest smile on his face, “We’re having a baby?”. A smile etched its way into your face, “We’re having a baby,” you confirmed with jazz hands.

He sat the ultrasound on the bed before grabbing your face and kissing you passionately. You lifted your arms up to then wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. After about a minute, you both pulled away to catch your breath.

“I have to go tell George!” he exclaimed before darting out of the room. “Fred!” you called out after him, but he was already long gone. You chuckled before sitting down on the bed and grabbing the ultrasound.

You looked at the picture for a few minutes. “Only 8 more months until your daddy and I get to meet you little one,” you said while rubbing your belly. “And I couldn’t be happier,” you heard from the door.

You looked over to see Fred smiling down at you and George standing behind him.

“Congrats you two, I thought I heard something that morning” George teased, earning a smack on the head from Fred. After the three of you laughed at George’s comment you thanked him before Fred walked over to you and sat next to you.

He put his face by your stomach, “Hi little one, I’m your daddy. I’m really excited to meet you.”. He then looked up at you and kissed you before putting his head on your lap, allowing you to run your hands through his hair.

“This is so cool, I’m going to be a mom!” you exclaimed and scratched the back of his neck. “And you’ll be a great one at that,” Fred gushed before lifting his head to give you another kiss while rubbing your belly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

xoxo

[babalynn]

Hq boys taking care of you when your sick

Tsukishima, Sakusa, Atsumu, Sugawara, Oikawa, Kuroo

Tsukishima

He actually is surprised when he sees you sick

You were literally just fine the night before?!

this man will help you because he cares for u

He will still call you a dumbass tho

“Morning shortass you sleep well?”

He looks up from his bowl of cereal to see you with red eyes, runny nose, cracked lips and a flush on your face. Grumbling at his words you walk towards the kitchen to make yourself a drink which of course he follows you and turns you around so he can feel your forehead which is not surprising that it’s burning hot.

“Kei what are you-“

“Shut up you are quite clearly sick”

Your voice is a little hoarse as you shrug at him “it will go I’m fine” before you coughed like your lungs where about to fall out. “Yeah anyway did you eat all the cereal?” He literally looks at you with a dead face like are you denying your sickness.

Before you know it he picks you up and places you back into the bed and quickly pecking you on the head before telling you that your not allowed to leave the bed unless for the bathroom.

He takes care of you until your back to your normal self, he cooks healthy meals for you and makes you drink a lot of fluids.

“You can’t just deny your sickness yerno”

“Well I’m not anymore if your gonna treat me like this”

“I hope for the both of us that won’t be for a very long time”

Sugawara

My dude is literally like are u shitting me

Honestly freaks out on the inside everytime you cough

Pretends like he knows what he’s doing but hasn’t got a fucking clue

“Koshi I don’t feel well enough to go out”

His head literally spins to look at you and it is quite clear 1) by your appearance 2) your voice 3) your attitude that you are sick.

He walks up to you and cups your cheek which he feels your temperature. “Okay sugar we won’t go, how about you go take a nice bath and I’ll make some soup hm? That sound okay?”

You nodded before waddling off to the bathroom and when he hears the door click his face drops. How ?? To ?? Take ?? Care ?? Of ?? You ?? Literally freaking out, bloody runs to the kitchen to start on that soup which he makes to perfection out of sheer worry.

Once he sees you walk into the kitchen he immediately brings you to sit on the couch with a blanket over you before bringing over his soup which he watched you eat. Low-key was your slave while you were sick and he didn’t mind it.

Everytime you coughed though he panicked a bit inside. Like is this just a cold?? Do I need to take them to the hospital?? However as you sleep with your head on his shoulder he didn’t mind the fact you drooled over him because you couldn’t breath through your nose and he fact your snot was also getting over him he just wanted you to get better fast.

Sakusa

He is shocked that your sick

s h o c k e d

Like the house is always clean and so are you so how are you sick??

However just because he isn’t fond of germs he will still take care of you

It wasn’t until he had come home he noticed how unwell you looked. He stayed by the door as you noticed him but before you could say anything you were sneezing like mad into the tissue you had just got for yourself.

“Hay fever am I right heh” you said walking away to put the tissue into the bin and wash your hands. Hay fever? In December? He walked into the kitchen and immediately felt your forehead which was boiling. He grabbed your arm and walked you back into the bedroom while telling you to relax and he was going to take care of you.

“Omi it’s fine I’ll look after myself I do-“

“No I’m looking after you because I love you now relax”

Although he did try to cater your every needs, this guy called a week off of work and he was cleaning the house spotless. He wanted to get rid of all the sick germs you mightve spread about.

“I’m sorry omi I know you hate this stuff”

“Hey shh it’s not your fault you didn’t ask for this, I mean if you did that’s pretty weird”

Causing a laugh from you which made him smile and hug you tighter. “Come on now I’ll help you take a bath”

Atsumu

Dude Google’s EVERYTHING

Now he’s convinced you have cancer : |

You and Osamu have to convince him it’s just a cold

Osamu was around because you knew for life Atsumu couldn’t cook shit

“Babe tell me ALL your symptoms”

You rolled your eyes before listing your symptoms, his eyes widen and begin to gloss with tears.

“Babe we have to go to the hospital, I’m pretty sure you have cancer”

You literally smack him the head “tsu it’s literally a cold it’s December” he sighs and hugs you before laughing “I know its probably just a cold but you make me worry when your sick, I’ll go make some food for you”

“I already called osamu he’s on his way”

Literally looks at you like 😀 like my brother? That’s low, is ‘offended’ but knows deep down his cooking belongs in hell it’s that bad. So when osamu shows up with the food and asks how you are doing before atsumu shoved him out the door.

He does try and help but he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do, just feels like a melon but at the end of the day when he gets into bed with you and brings you close to him is when he really feels like he’s helped you.

“Thank you tsumi I don’t know what I’d do without you” smiling he kisses your forehead

“I’ll always look after you beautiful”

Oikawa

Great king over here is like my sweetheart is sick I’ll help you <3

Motherfucker gets sick himself

He pretends he’s not until he sneezes in your face

So.. I guess your sick together

“Sweetheart you look sick are you okay?”

“I think I’m starting to get sick”

He sits you down on the bed and makes you tell him what’s wrong, pecking your lips he reassures you that he will help you. Brings you water and is out in the kitchen cooking food until he feels that sense of sickness in his head which he tries to shrug off, bringing you the food he sets it down beside you and while turning to you he sneezes in your face and your like “get away from me” he apologises while he wipes your face making you both burst and laughing, once your finished you both fall asleep in each other’s arms. The next morning you look at each other groaning before realising your both sick, slightly laughing because it happens everytime one of you is sick.

But then again it means you get to hang out with each other all day for a couple of days. You both order food, takes baths and showers together, stay in bed and in the comfort of each other. Oikawa kinda loves it because he gets to be with you.

You both always google remedies to see if they work, like how to get rid of a blocked nose, and it just consists of you two with your head over a bowl of hot boiling water letting the steam unclog your nose.

“Yerno i think this will be good for our skin I read somewhere steam is good”

“Really? We have to add this to our skin care night”

Kuroo

Cancels all his plans for you

Work? He’s off. Plans with kenma? Rescheduled

Takes care of his love with passion

“I can hear your stuffy nose from the kitchen” he chuckles while placing the tray of healthy food on your lap before kissing your cheek.

“Thank you tetsu” he smiles before tying your hair back and letting you eat to go run you a nice bath, which consists of bath salts, rose petals and candles on the sides. Helps you get unchanged and into the bath where he gives you soft gentle kisses before letting you relax.

Once he notices your out of the bath and in some comfy pyjamas he brings you to the bed and gives you some water to get your fluids up. The room is dark to stop you getting headaches and he holds you close while he hums and strokes your arms sending you to sleep. Definitely takes some photos of you while you slept.

While you do sleep he keeps his phone on quiet while he watches stuff, mainly like kenmas streams or YouTube. But when your wake up in your sleep coughing he quickly grabs your drink before leaving to get you some strepsils to ease your throat.

“Shhh go back to sleep you will feel better in the morning babe I’m right here”

I have like zero clue what’s up with me but I’m sick and during summer as well however everyone is atm. I’m really excited for Christmas for some reason that’s why I set this in December pahah

[lunarmoment]

Are you planning to do a New Year's Resolution?

If so, here's my unsolicited advice: start now!

It's about mid-December, so use these next two or so weeks as a practice round. It takes time to build a habit, and a lot of people (myself included) feel discouraged if they mess up on their goals early—which is bound to happen when you're trying something new. But if you stumble now, it's easy to be like, "it's not even the New Year yet! I'm actually beating my goal!" (Also, it's just so hard to do things on the first of the year, especially if you party night before.)

This works for most of the resolutions I can think of:

Want to work out more or try a new exercise? If you start now, the initial soreness won't put you off your whole goal for the year.

Want to do deep breathing exercises every day? Maybe in the next few weeks you'll forget a few times, but by January it very well may be an automatic thing for you.

Do you want to read a certain number of books next year? This may seem like one you can't start early, but consider starting a series that you really want to read—then you'll be itching to read the next installments by January. This is especially true if you want to read more books for fun, since it can be hard to jump back in after a reading slump.

Want to learn a new hobby or skill? Stop eating/eat less meat? Reduce time spent on social media? Drink less alcohol? Floss regularly? Have a consistent sleep schedule? Keep your closet organized? Same rules apply!

(It doesn't really work for things like, "I want to review my class notes every Friday," since classes are largely done right now, but still, it's a good rule of thumb!)

My personal goals are to exercise more, do deep breathing exercises in the morning and before bed, and floss daily. I've been doing these things for the past two weeks; while I've forgotten quite a few times, each of these are becoming a more and more regular part of my days (with the help of a lot of phone reminders). I've also already noticed a drop in my resting heart rate, which is honestly what motivated me to incorporate wellness strategies into my day. I'm trying to decide what I want to do for a writing-based goal, but so far I haven't worked out anything solid yet.

Hope this helps, and if you're doing one or a few, feel free to share what you're thinking for your New Year's resolution!

[every-marveler-ever]

Snowing Birthdays

🌭 STEVE ROGERS BINGO 2022; C2) Snowed In

🎖️ SAM STEVE BINGO 2022; G3) Birthday

PAIRING: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson

RATING: General

(Ao3 Link)

It’s snowing outside but it’s still Steve’s birthday and Sam wants to still make it special.

srb 🌭 2022 | ssb 🎖️ 2022

It’s snowing outside.

White crisp, cold snow.

December 12th, Steve Rogers's actual birthday as Bucky Barnes reminds the Avengers every year, because despite what the media thinks Steve Rogers, retired Captain America, is not born on the 4th of July.  

Steve Rogers isn’t the greatest fan of the snow, the cold, wet, damp, snow. 

Sam Rogers, as the best husband ever, knows this and so his mission now becomes how does he rectify Steve’s birthday? Letting his husband sleep in Sam adds an extra blanket and prepares to make breakfast in bed. Bacon, toast, coffee and the holy grail of breakfasts hashbrowns. 

It is exactly 6:45 am when Steve shifts and wakes normally prepared to go on a run, but since winter had rolled around this sometimes changes, like today.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Stevie, happy birthday to you,” Sam whispers quietly coming into the warm bedroom. 

There is a smile on Steve’s face and that is how Sam knows he’s succeeded, placing the dvd collection of Harry Potter that also lays on the breakfast tray on the tv stand. Steves laughs seeing the stack, “is that what we’re doing today?” He questions nodding towards the stack as Sam places the tray on Steve’s lap refraining him from movement.

Sam nods shrugging his shoulder and getting back into bed and trying not to jostle the covers too much for Steve, “I just thought that because of the snow you’d like to stay inside, Tony has that party later tonight but I’m sure we could skip if you really wanted to.” 

It’s simpler inside Steve’s brain tells him as if because Sam mentions it’s the first time he actually feels the cold despite the heater and mountains of blankets they sleep with at night. Steve nods sipping his coffee and warming him up again, “that’s really sweet, thank you,” he kisses Sam slowly coffee tasting and all, coming back for a breath Steve laughs “won’t we have to get out of bed to change the DVD player now?”

Honestly, Sam had just brought the DVDs in because it was cute, a sign of love language and all that. He laughs asking FRIDAY instead, “FRIDAY can you begin playing the first Harry Potter movie for us?” Pinching a piece of toast from Steve’s birthday platter.

“You’re cheeky, you know that?”

“I know,” Sam responds, huddling into his husband for warmth while eating his breakfast as the opening begins. 

Bingo Cards: @steverogersbingo @samstevebingo2022

[brockadoodles]

Gumbo, Football Sundays, and Christmas - q. hughes

AN: this was totally named something else before, but honestly I like this name better. So here’s holiday Quinn floof to celebrate the return of my main squeeze, the quinn to my brock, the oh so wonderful, @pettypetey​ If any of you are mean to her, its on sight, ily kyn <3

Word Count: 3759

Warnings: None :)

You carefully walked over to the couch where Quinn was sitting on his phone with two hot bowls in your hand. You cleared your throat to grab his attention, handing him the steaming bowl of your favorite homemade potato soup, something that his trainer would absolutely kill him for eating, yet he did anyway because you made it and he openly admitted that it was one of his favorite things. Quinn couldn’t cook to save his life, something that you had attempted to remedy when you became friends and found out that he got most of his meals from the rink or the Tanev family. But after one night where he spilled an entire pot of gumbo on your kitchen floor, you settled for doing the cooking or letting him pay for takeout whenever he came over, sparing your poor floor from another huge mess and your own sanity over wasting that much time on food only to not be able to eat it. 

You sat down on the couch next to him, your thigh pressed up against him due to the nature of how small your old Ikea couch was. You set your bowl down on the coffee table and picked up the remote, scrolling through the various options on TV until you spotted a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies listed on the Hallmark channel. 

“I’m absolutely not watching a Christmas movie with you, it’s not even thanksgiving yet,” Quinn frowned as you moved through the various options on the tv, each movie title becoming a worse holiday-related pun as you scrolled further into the depths of the Hallmark channel. 

You glared at him and for a moment you contemplated why you were even such good friends with someone who clearly had no sense of what Christmas joy really meant. Obviously, you knew that he didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you also knew that he knew how much comfort these movies brought you. You used to spend hours watching them in November and December with your dad as a child, and when you moved to Vancouver, that quickly became one of the things you could do that reminded you of home.   

“Quinn I will absolutely kick you out of my apartment,” you warned, queuing up one of the movies whose premise was likely about some small-town person who needed to save their business and the way that happens was through a Christmas miracle. It didn’t matter how similar or terribly low quality these movies were, you loved them and happily watched them consistently as early as September each year. Quinn should have considered himself lucky that you waited until November before putting one on with him there. 

“You would never,” he smirked at you, wrapping an arm swiftly around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Quinn was always affectionate with you, something that you had found yourself readily falling into. You would never admit it to him but Quinn was your favorite person, and as the months had progressed his affections have sparked daydreams in your head of what it would be like if he took it one step farther with you. 

The two of you sat in silence next to each other as the opening credits of the movie began to play as you enjoyed the warm soup. It was what you considered the perfect November evening, your favorite movies, your favorite meal, and your favorite person all in one sitting as the rain fell outside of your apartment. 

You pulled the dark green throw blanket over both of your bodies as the movie continued to play, Quinn rolling his eyes and audibly groaning at the cheesy dialogue that was happening on screen. 

“Shhhh, I’m trying to distract myself from you,” you whacked him in the chest, feeling his body vibrate softly as he laughed at you. He grabbed your hand, focusing on playing with your fingers lightly, sometimes threading his own through them. His actions were causing a flutter in your stomach and a blush to rise on your cheeks each time he held your hand in his, and the movie was offering no distraction from him. 

Quinn was a constant for you, a presence that was always there whether that meant in your mind and heart as you thought of him, or physically there on your couch watching Christmas movies with you just because you asked. He had been your friend since he started playing in Vancouver, the two of you frequently running into each other at a hole in the wall Chinese place near your apartment. Somehow the chance run-ins had become Sunday nights in his apartment where he always had your favorite fried rice and football queued up for you provided he didn’t have a game of his own. 

Quinn fussed around with your fingers and hand for the entirety of the movie, if someone were to ask him to summarize anything that had occurred over the last two hours that you were nestled into his chest, he simply couldn’t do it. He couldn’t focus on the movie, or the white noise of cars passing by outside and the rain steadily pouring down, all he could focus on was your hands and your breathing as you watched the movie. Quinn hadn’t admitted it to anyone, probably not even fully to himself yet just how attached he was to you. You were his favorite person, by far. His quiet demeanor never seemed to bother you, and you had the ability to calm him down yet challenge him when he needed it. You never made him feel like he was Quinn Hughes of the Vancouver Canucks, instead, he felt like just Quinn with you, a feeling he only ever experienced when he was back home with his family in Michigan. It might not have been obvious to him, but everyone else knew he was as in love with you as someone could be with a person they weren’t actually with. Even his mom asked about you frequently, smiling as he would tell her whatever mundane thing about you that he had thought of that day. You were the only person he willingly let this close to him, and people noticed. 

“What time is it?” You groaned, moving from his lap. Your back was slightly stiff, and you were kind of warm as you peeled the blanket from both of your bodies. The tv was turned off, and the sky outside was pitch black. Quinn slowly opened his eyes, a soft and sleepy smile on his face as he pulled you back into his chest. 

“Sleep time.” He hummed. You laughed softly and pressed your hands into his chest. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed, q.” 

A few weeks later, after American Thanksgiving had come and gone, you found yourself surrounded at a small table with some of the other young Canucks at a holiday charity event. Quinn had practically begged you to go with him to the fundraiser, complaining that he had no idea how to decorate gingerbread houses, and if you weren’t there to help him then Brock and Petey would never let him hear the end of how ugly he ultimately would turn out. You agreed pretty quickly, rolling your eyes at his concern and reassuring him that he shouldn’t feel bad even if his was the ugliest gingerbread house of the entire group.

Quinn was entirely out of his element as the kids tossed around various candies and made a mess at the table you were all sitting at together. His eyes were wide and he was quietly focussed on his own tragic house. You watched him try to concentrate on building a roof, struggling to hold in your laughter, and Brock and Elias relentlessly teased his efforts. 

“Look Quinn, mistletoe!” Quinn shot a look to Brock instantly at his words, his eyes shooting daggers into his friend as he held mistletoe up above the two of you. You sat there in shock, silently hoping that Brock would simply let this whole thing go without a fight so that you wouldn’t end up embarrassed and hurt. Unfortunately for you and him, the kids instantly jumped at the chance of forcing you to kiss, almost all of them egging it on and making kissy faces at the two of you.  

Quinn swore he was going to force Brock and Petey to block 50 of his shots next practice for how they were acting. It was bad enough that the kids were hounding him to kiss you, but he didn’t need it from his friends who knew about his long harbored crush on you. You took it all in stride though, a slight blush to your cheeks that Quinn found himself melting even moreover. It also didn’t help that you were there, wearing one so his jerseys, his name on your back. He wanted to kiss you, but the last thing he wanted was for you to think that it was all the accumulation of these pesky kids bullying him into it. 

Quinn tried to brush off the attempts at pushing the two of you together. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you, he did, but he wanted it to be under his own terms and a moment that was more special than at a fundraiser event with a bunch of children and Brock watching. He shook his head at Brock, mouthing for him to cut it out. Brock was having none of it though, knowing that a kiss was a long time coming between you and if Quinn wasn’t going to make the move quickly, then he was going to take advantage of the situation and attempt to get things moving between you. About every guy on the Canucks roster had about had enough of Quinn talking about how much he liked you without doing anything about it, and Brock saw the opportunity and took it. 

“Pucker up kids, there’s mistletoe now. You can’t break the Christmas law that is mistletoe,” Brock smirked, hanging the mistletoe above both of your heads. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Quinn wanted to smack the not so subtle smirk off of his face.

You grabbed his arm, turning to face him with a soft smile on your face. You almost felt bad for him, sensing how uncomfortable he was at the situation, but something about the way he was carrying himself had you hoping that maybe he did want to kiss you and that had you fluttering with excitement as you leaned in. Quinn just looked at you nervously, unable to react as you quickly grabbed his face, and softly pressed his lips to yours. The kids cheering in the background, and Elias and Brock smirking at the success of their efforts. It was almost too much, but he found himself grabbing your cheek and kissing you back, his heart beating so fast and loud he was sure that you would hear it. 

You smiled into the kiss, pulling back with a bright crimson shade present on your cheeks, a wide-eyed Quinn in front of you. For a moment you thought maybe you had messed everything up, maybe Quinn had absolutely no feelings for you and that’s why he was looking at you like he looked at most other people who he didn’t know. But it didn’t take Quinn long to smile and grab your hand, lacing your fingers together and going back to decorating the tragic gingerbread houses sitting in front of you, a soft smile present on his face the rest of the afternoon. 

Quinn has debatably taken your ugly Christmas sweater idea a bit too seriously, so seriously in fact that you were genuinely impressed when he came to pick you up in a dark green holiday sweater, complete with a reindeer and light up antlers on his chest as you opened your front door. You laughed a bit, shaking your head as you took him in. You found it sweet that he made the extra effort, knowing that you were in a bad mood and probably just wanted to cheer you up. You wordlessly grabbed your bag and locked your door, following Quinn quietly out to his car. 

The drive to Bo and Holly’s was quiet, Quinn focused on the dark roads as he drove. You watched out the window, looking at the shiny pavement that was slick with the steady rain that Vancouver knew for the majority of the winter. Things with Quinn had felt weird since you kissed him under the mistletoe, you couldn’t explain the shift because as much as you hoped the kiss would show him your feelings for him, he never brought it up. You supposed that you were partially to blame, you could have put your heart out there with him, but you also felt like you had already done that by kissing him those weeks ago, and him not saying anything only sank your heart further. So instead of dwelling on it, you tried to enjoy your time with him as usual, pushing your feelings to the side in hopes that in time they would evaporate and you would be okay just being his friend again. 

You fumbled around in your bag as he parked outside of the Horvat’s house, flicking his light-up sweater on with a soft smile as he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. 

“Quinn wait.” You started. You reached out and grabbed his thigh softly, pulling your hand back quickly when you realized what you were doing, your nerves bubbling up into your chest. You pulled a small wrapped box from your bag, fiddling with it in your hands as he watched you carefully. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as you handed him the present. 

“Happy first day of Hanukkah.” You smiled. Quinn grinned at you in response, his heart softening at you remembering. Not that he thought you forgot, but you were after all parked outside of his captain’s house, dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters, about to attend the annual Canucks Christmas party. So while he didn’t think you forgot, it meant a lot to him that you vocally remembered and thought of him enough to get a gift. 

Quinn carefully unwrapped the present and shook his head as he pulled the item from its box. He ran his hand over the keychain, the New Orleans Saints logo clear as day on the charm. 

“I should have known not to expect something serious.” He joked as he put the keychain on his keys, a small act that caused butterflies to rush into your stomach. 

“Yeah well, your taste in football sucks so I had to remind you who you should be cheering for.” You replied, smirking slightly at him. Quinn leaned over the center console, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek so quickly that you were sure you didn’t even have time to take one breath as he pulled away. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly parted at his outward display of affection, no sign of him thinking anything of it. You gulped a bit as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. Quinn didn’t say anything, instead, he smiled and climbed out of the car, waiting patiently for you to grab the punch you made and join him on the short walk to the front of the house, the moment between you quickly passing as you headed into the party. 

You walked into the home, smiling in awe at how beautiful the decorations were. Your eyes wandered around the room, stopping on the huge tree in the living room, covered with red and green ornaments and lights. The whole house smelled like fir, and it was warm and inviting as you starting noticing the various players and their families who were scattered throughout the room. 

Holly led you into their kitchen to help you get the punch set up for the rest of the guests. She took the large pitcher from your hands and set it on the counter. Quinn had been pulled another direction from you and was now talking with Elias in the living room as you were in the kitchen with Holly. You were a little nervous being alone with her, having only met her a handful of times at various events that you had gone to with Quinn. But she offered you a friendly smile and the first glass, which helped your nerves settle. 

“Ah, Mrs. Huggy! You’re here!” You heard from behind you, an audible gasp at the nickname escaping from your lips as Jake slid up behind you and hugged you. You quickly turned out of his grasp and shot him a glare, glancing past him in hopes that Quinn hadn’t heard his friend call you that. 

“Jake! Shut up!” You whispered harshly, whacking him lightly in the chest. He just laughed at you in return, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a now smirking Holly and a tint on your cheeks that you were hoping would go away before Quinn came back to find you. You took a long sip of your drink, resigning yourself to the fact that this night was probably going to be long, and you definitely needed the liquid courage to get yourself through it. 

About an hour and two drinking games later, you found yourself tipsy and less nervous around Quinn and your friends, them seemingly forgetting about your unrequited crush in favor of arguing who got to have him as their beer pong partner, something that Quinn was shockingly undefeated at. 

You walked into the kitchen, bypassing Brock who was leaning against the counter, typing away on his phone. He didn’t notice you as you walked by him and over toward the drinks that were on the counter, refilling yours and taking a moment to yourself. You didn’t notice that Quinn had followed you into the room, jumping slightly when you heard his voice coming from behind you. 

“Hey so remember when you kissed me?” You nearly choked on your drink, the contribution you had decided to bless the party with, a punch that only came out during the holidays, containing what you could only describe to people as 90% alcohol and a 10% chance of blacking out. You were only on your third cup, not near inebriated enough for this potential conversation with Quinn. The truth was that you of course remembered kissing him, the feeling of it had been cycling around your brain since the charity event last week, but he never brought it up with you, so you were forced to pack your feelings back up into a tightly taped box, hoping that one day you could pull said box out and give it to him properly. 

Quinn however had consumed almost four cups of your famous Christmas party punch, sending him well on his way passed tipsy and onto the train towards the loud drunk you rarely saw from him. He had wanted to kiss you again, a secret tucked deep in his chest that was bubbling up to the surface with the more drinks he had. He took in your appearance, your hair was down and you had a slight blush to your cheeks from your makeup, the Christmas sweater hanging from your body was stupid and endearing and all he could think about was tossing it onto the floor. 

“Mhm, yes I do remember something of that sorts happening, Quinn,” you said, smirking softly at him, a complete act to hide your growing nerves. Quinn smiled the widest drunk smile you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how cute he was. 

“Can I kiss you this time?” He asked, loud enough that Brock turned his head from where he was standing, a few feet away in the kitchen as he was on his phone. He raised his eyebrows at you, smirking a bit before turning and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you and Quinn to yourselves as your heart beat faster in your chest. You gulped back the rest of your drink, setting it down and stepping toward him. Quinn’s hands instinctively went to your waist, pulling you in closer with a lazy smile on his face and a soft expression in his eyes. 

“You gonna kiss me or what, Quinn?” Your heart was pounding so loudly, you were thankful for the chatter coming from the kitchen, someone yelling about winning what must have been that round of beer pong. Quinn smiled at you and it only made things worse, the moment feeling like it was hanging in time as you waited not so patiently for him to press his lips to yours again. You almost thought you were imagining the entire thing as he grabbed your cheek, leaning in and closing his eyes. As soon as his lips touched yours you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging softly on his dark hair. You smiled into the kiss, not caring who was watching because all that mattered was Quinn. 

Quinn pulled back and continued to hold you, a blush evident on both of your cheeks and smiles that were big and wide. You buried your head into his chest and he kissed your head, no words needing to be spoken between you, it was like you both knew exactly what the other person wanted to say. You knew how Quinn felt, and he knew how you felt, your hearts practically beating in each other’s ears as you shared a not so private moment in the kitchen, a cheesy Hallmark movie type ending that you loved. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, I really like you.” Quinn murmured, running his hand softly along your hip as he looked down for your reaction. You leaned up and kissed him once more, smiling into it and squeezing him gently. 

“I like you too, even if you hate Christmas movies and have terrible taste in football teams.” You said, earning a laugh out of your favorite person. The two of you spent the rest of the party stealing drunk kisses together, your minds fuzzy with the not new feelings but new ability to express them openly with each other, regardless of anyone else’s opinions or comments. Quinn was absolutely your favorite person, and you couldn’t believe you were finally getting to be with him in the way that you had wanted to for months, even with his stupid reindeer sweater on. 

[benjamin-ovich]

You are one of the authors I truly admire. So, I am seeking advice from you. I have problems with starters. Like I have already written the wip but the starting paragraph is still missing. I have tons of prongsfoot wip that are eating dust in my computer because of this 😭 S.O.S pls.

Hi! It's such an honour that you admire my writing :D I understand the frustration that comes with struggling to start chapters/entire works.... honestly, introductions are usually the parts that I spend the most time editing and rewriting because they can be so tricky to get right! When in doubt, I usually do one of the following:

1) Start with descriptions of your opening scene - this can be about the season, the weather, the temperature, even the way light fills the room.

eg. December dissolves soundlessly away, and the new year enters wearing a coat of silver mist and powdery snow. The air feels frozen, holding its breath, and through it all the war rages on like an endless storm.

2) Go straight into the action!

eg. It starts with the knives and the blood in his mouth and a sweaty shirt that sticks to his body when he moves.

3) Dialogue is really fun to start chapters with too, and is an easy way to establish characters/plot early on.

4) Some wishy washy, lyrical prose that helps set the tone of the story. This is usually what I revert to when I can't think of how else to start lol.

eg. Somewhere in that obscure, shadowy state between sleep and awakening. Dreams and daydreams tend to mingle here, and they fill the mind with strange visions, memories, ideas. A voice calling his name. The glimpse of a silhouette in the corner of the eye, in the shape of someone he’d once known. There’s something vaguely familiar about that voice, slotting into his awareness; slick, frictionless, as if it’s always been there, and is only now emerging from the nebulous waters of memory…

Happy writing! If you do post your works at some point I'd love to check them out, the world needs soooo many more Prongsfoot fics <3 <3

[shyvioletcat]

“Just shut up and kiss me.” for Rowaelin? 💙

This is Part 3 of The Sweater.

~~~~~

Rowan stood there not saying anything and Aelin tugged at her sock and pulled it higher, suddenly feeling very self conscious. She stood there in long fuzzy socks, his sweater… and not much else. It was all only made worse by his prolonged silence.

“Do you want to come in?” She finally said.

Those words seem to break Rowan out of his trance and he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Aelin stepped aside and let him walk by, his hands going into his pockets as he strode in. This side of Rowan she was seeing just now was confusing. She knew there was a reason for him randomly appearing on her doorstep but he was not the most forthcoming man at the best of times, and right now Aelin could see right through him.

He was here to tell her something, but what she didn’t know.

“Dinner was fun,” he said at last.

Aelin let out a breathless laugh. “I do love our little outings.”

Rowan smiled a little at that, but Aelin couldn’t miss the way his eyes seemed unable to stop from roving over her, always lingering on the sweater she wore. It was more of a very short dress on her from where it hit the top of her thighs. She had meant to give it back, she had seen Rowan a few times since the picnic little more than a week ago. But honestly, she didn’t want to. She had taken to wearing when she got home, she’d even slept in it a few times. It was pathetic, Aelin knew this, but it smelled of Rowan and it was so incredibly soft she couldn’t help herself. The fact that she had been busted wearing it by its owner started to make her cheeks heat, and she tugged at the hem in a futile attempt to make it longer.

“So,” Aelin said, clearing her throat as it caught on absolutely nothing, “to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” 

“Oh, I just,” Rowan pulled one of his hands from his pockets and ran it through his hair. Then he looked around the room, as if he were possibly looking for a reason. “I just wanted to see you.”

Aelin crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a look. “Rowan.”

He looked right at her then, those green eyes not faltering from her’s, and Aelin’s breath caught. Rowan took a few tentative steps towards her and when she dropped her arms his gait became more purposeful. He stopped in front of her, his hand running along the length of her forearm, the long sleeve of the sweater falling away as he held her hand.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Rowan whispered, his eyes not leaving where their hands joined. 

“What is it?” Aelin asked, her voice just as soft.

“I wanted…” Rowan closed his eyes for a long moment, then he let go of her hand and took a step back. “I just wanted to get my sweater back.”

Aelin physically felt the colour drain from her face, disappointment settling in her stomach. She had wanted him to ask her something else. She had wanted him to confess something that had been on the tip of her own tongue so many times. Instead he had asked for his gods-damned sweater back. Aelin wanted to cry, but she opted for laughing, she even contemplated taking it off and throwing it at him if she had been wearing a little more than her lingerie underneath.

“Okay, I’ll get that sorted for you,” Aelin said, sounding a little more bitter than she wanted. She shouldn’t be mad at him, he had no idea. 

Aelin went to leave, her blood pounding in her ears. She was almost at her bedroom door when Rowan caught her arm and made her turn to face him.

~~~~~

The sound of Aelin’s laugh had just about broken his heart. He knew he was a coward. But when faced with the possibility of Aelin not loving him back Rowan had panicked, dropped that stupid line about the sweater instead. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her when he had seen her in it, just knowing that this wasn’t the first time she had worn it. Now the dark green knitted item had gone and ruined everything. 

“Fireheart, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me,” Rowan pleaded.

Aelin straightened, a determined look setting on her face. “Why did you really come here, Rowan.”

Rowan moved closer again, so close their chests almost brushed and she had to tilt her head up to look at him, those stunning eyes not wavering from his for even a second. 

“I came to tell you that I’m in love with you and that you consume me like a wildfire.” He wasn’t sure Aelin was breathing as he went on. “You are the only one that I want, and I’ve been terrified and stupid to not say anything until now, becuase I was too scared to know if you felt the same. I love you, Aelin. I’m just praying to almost every god there is that you love me too.”

Aelin let out the breath she had been holding, a single tear running down her cheek that she quickly wiped away with the sleeve of the sweater. Then she smiled up at him, her arms looping around his neck.

“I love you, too,” Aelin said.

“I’m sorry ––”

Aelin cut him off. “Uh-ah, nope.” Then she was closing all the remaining space between them. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Rowan did what he was told. The kiss was searing, demanding and a deep seeded relief that he felt in his very soul. Why had he waited so long to do this? What had they both danced around each other for so long?

His hands ran over Aelin’s back, over the soft knit of the sweater, down to her ass and to her thighs. She gasped when he squeezed them but got the message and jumped, Rowan holding her tight as her legs circled around his hips. He broke the kiss as he walked them over to her couch, but her lips never left him as Aelin kissed his jaw, his neck. When she nipped at him he groaned and sat down heavily, Aelin bouncing in his lap. She laughed and they kissed again.

“So,” she said, and Rowan recognised the teasing tone in her voice. “You wanna take your sweater back now.”

Rowan’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of it ––hands running up Aelin’s thigh and her back–– the movements had her arching into him as he became aware of how little she wore underneath. 

He kissed her neck, smiling against her skin. “You know what, I think I just might.”

~~~~~

Thanks for reading this little adventure! And yep, I’ve already decided to do a Christmas piece so be on the look out for that in December

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