#coriander wc

[daily-whistlebreeze]

daily whistlebreeze until da becomes PoV day 1580

Little Daisy and Coriander always enjoy a visit from Whis

[eggfeather]

coriander and daisy

[clanslist]

[lemnnshark]

"Coriander is a tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with amber eyes."

[angeliikiit]

Corianderstormcharic // Gender related to Coriander (Bramblestar's storm) from Warriors

Art by @/cloudtail

[warriors-pride]

i hope eveything gets better soon!! catgender genderfluid lesbian coriander, daisy, stick, sorreltail, redtail, whitethroat, hawkheart, and nightcloud if thats ok?

[marmosetpaw]

[bradleysass]

tragic - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 385

“It’s tragic, really. You are moping around the flat.”

James doesn’t look up from where he’s sat, curled into the corner of the worn leather couch like it’s a life raft. The telly is on, some nature documentary he isn’t watching. He hasn’t changed out of the hoodie Regulus left behind three weeks ago. It still smells faintly like bergamot and bitterness.

Sirius is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, the kind of look on his face that says he’s trying not to care too much. It’s not working.

“I’m not moping,” James says flatly.

Sirius lets out a breath that’s part laugh, part sigh. “Mate. You reorganised the spice rack alphabetically yesterday and cried when you knocked over the coriander.”

“That was a very sentimental jar,” James mutters.

“Sure,” Sirius says. “Because he liked to put it in the pasta, right?”

James winces. “Don’t—”

“I’m just saying,” Sirius cuts in, stepping into the room, “if you’re gonna spiral, you could at least do it with some dignity.”

James finally looks up at that, bloodshot eyes flashing. “You’re hilarious.”

Sirius shrugs. “It’s a gift.”

A beat of silence falls. Outside, rain tickles the windowpanes. It’s been grey for days. Fitting, really.

James breaks first. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“He doesn’t know how,” Sirius says, quieter now. “That’s the problem.”

“I loved him.”

“I know.”

“I still do.”

“I know, James.”

The hoodie sleeves are too long on him, and James pulls them over his hands, like they might keep him from falling apart.

“I keep thinking he’ll come back.”

Sirius sits down beside him. He doesn't say “he won’t.” Maybe because he doesn’t know. Maybe because it’s not true.

Instead, he says, “You know, I saw him the other day.”

James stiffens. “When?”

“Two days ago. Walking out of that bookstore on Rosemead.”

“Did he—?”

“He looked like shit, if it makes you feel better,” Sirius says, and for a second it does.

James laughs, hollow and bitter. “Good. He deserves it.”

He doesn’t mean it.

They both know.

“Maybe he’s moping too,” Sirius says after a moment.

“It's tragic, really,” James whispers, a hand dragging through his hair. “You should’ve seen us. I thought— I thought I’d finally found it, you know?”

“I know.”

James exhales like it hurts. “I wish I didn’t.”

[mrspiastri]

✩ feed me, please? 🍛

pairing: lando norris x desi!reader

cw: fluff

wc: 4.2k words

an: i know this is the longest i’ve vanished for but IM BACKKK 😁😁😁, and ty for the req :D

It was a sort of ritual the two of them had developed. One they didn’t find the need to really speak into existence, since it had simply become a part of their lives.

Every Monday, when Lando would return from whatever country he’d been racing in the previous night and back to Monaco, Y/N would wait up for him.

It didn’t matter how late he arrived, or that she had work in the morning and should have gone to sleep at a reasonable time like a sane person. Unfortunately, she was anything but sane, especially when it came to him.

The same boyfriend who was on his way home from Melbourne, still riding the high of the 5th win of his career.

He was supposed to be home by 3 in the afternoon, but it seemed that his weekend’s luck had run out, and his flight was rescheduled for later, which meant he wouldn’t reach home until nearly 9 at night.

Y/N pretended she wasn’t disappointed when he texted her about the delay, but it was hard not to be. As silly as it sounded, she loved spending as much time with him as possible whenever his schedule allowed it. The fact that their time together tonight would be cut down left a small pang of sadness in her chest.

But if anything, it only made her more determined to give him a proper welcome home.

Before she got to work, she made sure everything was ready: the banner (which was just three giant craft sheets taped together with “Congrats Lando!” written in big letters), the balloons she had single-handedly inflated (after sorting out the orange and black ones, of course), and the cake she had baked, now cooling on the kitchen counter.

The smell of incense lingered faintly in the air, the last remnants of the sandalwood incense sticks she had lit earlier in the evening. It wasn’t really a ritual, but something she did out of habit; her mother always said it kept the house feeling calm, like a reset for the week ahead. The warm, woody scent mixed with the delicate fragrance of her jasmine plant, which sat in the window, its small white buds blooming beautifully in the evening breeze.

Lando always said their home smelled different. Not like the crisp, cool air of a hotel or the artificial scents of air fresheners. It smelled lived in. A mix of filter coffee, coconut oil, and the lingering floral scent of their fabric softener. Something distinctly her.

She smiled at the thought while grabbing a small steel tumbler, pouring a little warm milk into it before adding a spoonful of crushed almonds. He wouldn’t ask for it, but she knew how exhausted he would be after the long flight. And she knew he’d drink it anyway, especially if she handed it to him without a word.

As she finished icing the cake, she debated making a quick chicken curry and rice, just in case he wanted a proper meal instead of reheated leftovers. Her sister would call her mad for putting in so much effort at this hour.

Maybe she was, but it didn’t seem to deter her in the slightest. She glanced at the time on her phone, still a couple of hours before he’d land. That gave her more than enough time. She turned to the kitchen, tying her hair up with her trusty claw clip, rolling up her sleeves.

Y/N chopped the chicken, then got the pan going with some oil, mustard seeds, and crushed garlic. Once they sizzled, in went chopped onions, then tomatoes, and a mix of turmeric, red chilli powder, coriander, and garam masala. No measuring, just by feel, like she always did. The kind of cooking that lived in her muscle memory.

After the masala cooked down, she added the chicken, gave it a good mix, and added hot water for a light gravy. While that simmered, she rinsed basmati rice and set it on the stove.

Within minutes, the kitchen smelled like home; spices, garlic, and something warm and familiar. The curry bubbled gently on the stove, the rice nearly done.

It was simple, but it was his favorite. And hers too, if she was being honest. If there was one thing she learnt in her years of being with Lando, it was that he had the palate of a child.

As everything cooked, she leaned against the counter, tired but content. She could already picture Lando walking through the door; backpack slung over one shoulder, hair a little messy, eyes half-tired but lighting up when he smelled the food.

He always pretended to be casual about it, but she’d caught him sneaking seconds more than once. And every single time, he’d mutter something like, "How is this better than the curry your mum makes?" with a pout that made her want to roll her eyes and kiss him at the same time.

Y/N let the chicken simmer, rice already done. Just as she was stirring up the pot, she heard the sound of the door rattling.

“Shit!”, she whispered before quickly switching off the heat and rushing to open the door.

The door pushed open, and Y/N was greeted by the sight of a tired Lando, curls messy, shoulders slumped, and eyes droopy. However, all that changed the second he laid eyes on her.

🪻🪻🪻

The moment the door creaked open, Lando stepped inside, his body nearly folding under the weight of exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, backpack slipping halfway down one arm, curls flattened from hours in transit, eyes barely staying open.

And then he saw her.

There, in his home that had slowly become theirs, barefoot and glowing in the soft light, standing with a crooked smile on her face. Dressed in her favourite cotton kurta, with a pair of loose pajamas.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with fatigue, but there was a warmth blooming in his chest that no amount of tiredness could dull.

Y/N shrugged like it was nothing, like her heart hadn’t spent the entire day planning how to make him smile.

“Your fifth win deserves some sort of celebration,” she said lightly. “Even if it’s kind of lopsided.”

His eyes flicked to the “Congrats Lando!” banner that barely hung on by tape, then to the ridiculous orange and black balloons huddled in one corner of the room. He laughed under his breath, a little stunned by the quiet love in all of it.

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, dropping his backpack to the floor without a second thought. She fit perfectly against him, her hair smelling faintly of jasmine, her skin warm against his travel-chilled hoodie.

“You sorted the orange ones out, didn’t you?” he mumbled into her hair.

“Obviously.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, just held her there in the quiet, letting himself breathe her in. Letting himself come home.

God, he loved her.

It hit him in the simplest moments, much like this. Not when the cameras flashed, not when he stood on podiums, not even when he scored his career highs. But when he walked into a house that smelled like her hair oil and home-cooked food. When she looked up at him with that stupidly soft smile like she’d been waiting all day just for this.

When she handed him the little steel tumbler, he realised he was some sort of spoiled prince. Which, of course, he totally was. At least when it came to her.

“You’re unreal,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

She raised an eyebrow. “For blowing some balloons?”

He shook his head. “For all of it.”

She tried to brush it off with a joke, but his nose twitched as the scent of something familiar drifted from the kitchen. His stomach growled audibly.

“Is that... chicken curry?”

“Maybe,” she said, trying not to grin.

Without hesitation, he made a beeline for the stove, lifting the lid of the pot like a man possessed. The smell hit him full force; spiced, rich, comforting. It was like a hug in the form of food.

He turned back to her, eyes wide. “Are you actually trying to ruin every meal I’ll have for the rest of the year?”

“You act like you don’t live on frozen pizza when I’m not here.”

“Exactly,” he said, trying to scoop a spoonful of the gravy and blowing on it. “So how do you expect me to go back to that after this?”

Y/N quickly smacked his hand away, making him playfully frown. “First go freshen up, and change out of your airport clothes.”

Lando groaned dramatically, dragging his suitcase toward their bedroom like a sleep-deprived child. “Fine, but only because you bullied me into it.”

She kissed him once more before gently pulling back, brushing his curls away from his forehead. “I encouraged you, big difference.”

With him out of sight, she got to work garnishing the curry; fresh coriander chopped finely, a squeeze of lime to brighten the gravy, and a pinch more garam masala because she knew exactly how he liked it. The rice had steamed perfectly, each grain separate and fluffy, and she spooned it neatly onto a plate, ladling the chicken curry beside it so the gravy soaked into the rice just enough.

🪻🪻🪻

Just as she was setting everything onto the table, Lando reappeared, now in a pair of soft grey joggers and a worn tee. His curls were damp from a quick shower, and his eyes looked just a touch clearer, though the tiredness still clung to him in the way his shoulders sagged.

He sniffed the air like a cartoon character following the scent of a freshly baked pie. “I could smell it in the shower. You’re evil.”

She raised a brow as she placed the plate down in front of his chair. “You say that like I didn’t just make your favorite meal.”

“You did. That’s the problem.” He collapsed into the chair, groaning softly as he looked at the food. “It looks amazing, love. Smells even better.”

She leaned over, ruffling his curls with a smug smile. “Eat, before I make you reheat it yourself.”

He stared down at the plate for a second, then looked up at her with the softest, most exhausted expression on his face.

“Babe?” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…” He scratched the back of his neck, then blinked at her, boyishly shy. “Can you feed me? Just a little? I’m so tired.“

Y/N stared at him, half amused, half exasperated; but mostly endeared. This man, this world-class athlete, who just hours ago had stood on the podium in front of thousands, was now looking at her like a sleepy toddler who needed to be tucked in and hand-fed dinner.

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered affectionately, sitting down beside him.

“But lovable,” he quipped, resting his chin on her shoulder briefly.

She had just reached for the spoon, before Lando whined again. “Babe, not with the spoon,” stretching out the last few consonants of the word.

“How else do you expect me to feed you dummy?,” she asked.

“With your hands, please. It always tastes better when you do it.” He mumbled in response, almost embarrassed about having to make the request.

She rolled her eyes, already using her fingers to mix a bit of curry and rice, scooping it gently and holding it up to his lips. “Open.”

He obeyed without hesitation, sighing contentedly the moment the food hit his tongue. “Oh my God,” he mumbled with his mouth full, eyes fluttering shut. “That’s actually insane.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she made another bite. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time,” he said, swallowing. “This is the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks.”

“Liar,” she said, feeding him again. “You were probably at some five-star place two nights ago.”

“Exactly. Five stars. No love. This? Ten stars. All love.”

Y/N paused for just a second, letting his words settle in her chest. Then she smiled, softer this time, brushing her fingers against his cheek as she fed him the next bite.

“I missed you loads, Lando.”

His eyes met hers, warm and heavy with everything he couldn’t quite put into words.

“I know,” he whispered. “I missed you more.”

She let her thumb linger on his cheek for a moment before pulling it back, scooping up another bite of rice and curry. She held it out to him wordlessly, and he leaned forward, taking it into his mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world; like being fed by her, like sitting here in their cozy kitchen after a race weekend, was his idea of perfect.

He chewed slowly, savoring it like she’d plated a Michelin-starred dish just for him. Maybe to anyone else, it looked simple. A plate of rice, curry, and love. But to Lando, it felt like everything.

And that look in her eyes. Soft. Steady. Like no matter how many countries he traveled through, how many podiums he stood on, or flights he boarded, this would always be his favorite place to land.

“Do you want some?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

She raised a brow, amused. “I’ve been tasting while cooking.”

“But that’s not the same,” he murmured, reaching for her hand and gently guiding it to her lips. She blinked, but he nodded. “Come on. One bite for you.”

She rolled her eyes but took the bite anyway, and he grinned like he’d just won again.

They sat like that for a while. Him slouched in the chair, head tilted toward her shoulder, letting her feed him slowly, in no rush. Between bites, his fingers brushed hers, thumb tracing soft lines over her knuckles. He liked the way her skin felt against his; warm, familiar, grounding.

“Do you ever get tired of being this perfect?” he asked between bites.

Y/N snorted. “All the time. It’s exhausting.”

Lando chuckled, eyes closing for a second. “I mean it though. I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

“You made a left turn at the right time,” she teased.

He smiled, but there was a weight behind it. A softness. He reached out, his hand gently resting on her knee, thumb drawing small circles through the fabric of the pajamas she was wearing.

“I don’t say it enough,” he said quietly, “but thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“For waiting up,” he replied, looking into her eyes. “For cooking. For decorating. For always being here when I come… and making it feel like home.”

Y/N looked at him for a long second, heart fluttering at the honesty in his voice, the way he said it like it was sacred.

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Always,” she whispered.

He smiled again, a little sleepier now, letting his head fall to her shoulder as she fed him the last few bites. His hand slid from her knee to her waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her kurta. His plate was nearly empty now, but he looked up at her with those warm, sleepy eyes and that signature little smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’d marry you just to have a lifetime supply of your cooking… but also because I love you.”

Y/N blinked, her heart stuttering just a little at how sincere he sounded; sleepy-eyed and warm, but somehow managing to look at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

She smiled, playful but touched. “So I have to feed you forever, is that what you’re saying?”

Lando grinned, eyes lighting up. “Don’t worry,” he said, tugging her a little closer, “I’ll always be there to do the dishes.”

That made her laugh, properly laugh, the kind that made her eyes crinkle and her shoulders shake. “Wow,” she said through a grin, “a man who loves me and does the dishes? Are you trying to make me cry?”

Lando didn’t let go of her hand, not even as her laughter softened and the air between them settled into something quieter, gentler. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles over her skin, and his gaze never left her face. It was like he was memorizing her all over again.

Y/N tilted her head, still smiling, still flushed, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, light and lingering.

“I do adore you,” she murmured, the words simple but full, warm like the kitchen around them. “And not just because you do the dishes.”

He grinned. “That’s just a bonus?”

She nodded. “A very attractive one.”

Lando chuckled, nuzzling her nose for a second before she finally pulled away, brushing her hands on her thighs as she stood up.

“Alright,” she said, moving toward the counter, “stay right there. I have one more thing for you.”

He watched her curiously, chin resting in his palm, eyes following every step she took as she reached for something just out of sight. And then she turned around, holding the cake in her hands with a proud little smile.

It wasn’t perfect, the icing was a little uneven, and the sprinkles were slightly chaotic, but it was hers. Homemade, thoughtful, and filled with every bit of love she hadn’t quite managed to put into words. The top read ‘Yay Lando!’ in shaky icing letters, and there was a tiny, uneven attempt at a checkered flag drawn in the corner. And to top it all off, she added a few candles on the cake, that crackled merrily.

His heart swelled instantly.

“Y/N…” he said softly, sitting up straighter, “you made that?”

“I tried,” she laughed, placing it gently on the table in front of him. “I know it’s not fancy or anything, but you won. Again. And I’m really, really proud of you.”

Lando stared at the cake for a second longer, then up at her; and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at her like she hung the moon.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time. “And this… this means more than anything anyone else could’ve given me.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered a little, but she smiled through it, reaching up to brush back a strand of his hair. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

🪻🪻🪻

He reached for her hand again, tugging her gently onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist as she melted into him.

“I could stay like this forever,” he said, almost to himself, his thumb brushing across her waist.

Y/N gave him a fond smile. “But then who would go win races and wear ridiculous helmets?”

Lando laughed, and the sound made her heart flutter. “Still worth it,” he teased, before his voice turned soft again. “But even if I’m halfway across the world, this is what I come back to. It’s what I look forward to. Always.”

She leaned down to kiss him gently, her lips lingering over his like she wanted to tell him everything without saying a word. When they finally pulled apart, he was smiling, just barely, in that lovesick way that made her feel weightless.

“Come on, blow out the candles, unless you want a bit of melted wax in your cake.”

He complied, blowing them out, not before making a wish. Lando couldn’t tell anyone what the wish was exactly, but he knew whatever it was involved Y/N.

“Now how about you feed me a slice of that cake you made. You know… since you’re already on a roll tonight.”

She rolled her eyes playfully but reached for the knife anyway.

“Fine,” she said, cutting him a generous piece. “But only because you’re cute. And jet-lagged.”

“And madly in love with you,” he added, flashing her that boyish smile she could never resist.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said through a smile, holding up a bite for him.

He chewed the bite slowly, savoring it like it was some five-star dessert, even after she mentioned she made it with a box mix. None of that mattered to him. It was hers. She had made it with her own two hands, for him, after working all day, after waiting up when she could have easily gone to sleep. And somehow, it tasted like comfort. Like love.

Lando leaned back in his chair with a soft groan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before glancing over at her. She was still watching him with that shy smile, her fingers brushing off a crumb from the corner of his lips without even thinking about it. So casually intimate. So them.

“Okay, that was amazing,” he said, nudging her foot with his under the table. “But now that you’ve stuffed me like a turkey, tell me about your day, hmm?”

She blinked at him, surprised. “Mine?”

“Yes, yours,” he said, nudging her foot again. “You always ask about my races, my media stuff, my training. And I love that, but I’ve missed hearing about your day. I want to know everything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she gave him a look that was both amused and touched. “It wasn’t very exciting.”

“I don’t care,” he said, sitting up straighter now, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek against his fist like a boy trying to stay awake in a lecture; except his smile made it clear he was genuinely interested. “Tell me anyway. Start from the top.”

She exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. “Fine… I woke up late because I stayed up finishing a report. Barely had time to make coffee, but your mum texted me a photo of your podium, and that made my morning.”

Lando grinned. “She’s obsessed with me.”

“She’s proud of you,” Y/N said, smiling too. “She’d asked if I’d recorded your post-race interview, and I had. So I sent it to her.”

Lando chuckled. “You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, nudging his leg. “Then work was the usual chaos. Back-to-back meetings. I forgot to eat lunch until like three.”

His expression turned mock-scandalized. “Love, no!”

She rolled her eyes with a small laugh. “Relax, I ate something. Just… not real food. I had chai and a couple of biscuits.”

He leaned forward, frowning slightly. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally the one who travels across time zones and survives on protein bars and Monster Energy.”

“Yeah, but I’m used to being irresponsible,” he teased. “You’re the responsible one. Keep the balance.”

She rolled her eyes, but her thumb instinctively brushed over his knuckles. “Fine. I’ll eat better tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said softly, intertwining their fingers.

There was a beat of silence as they just sat there, fingers laced together across the table, the candlelight flickering gently and the warm scent of cardamom and jasmine still clinging to the air. He studied her face like it was his favorite thing in the world, because it was.

He pressed his face into her hair, breathing her in. It smelled like home. Not in the way his childhood home had, or even the flat he’d bought in London years ago. No, this was different. This was the scent of freshly washed sheets with a hint of her shampoo, of incense smoke that lingered even hours after it had burned out, of something sweet always cooking in the kitchen even if she swore she hadn’t touched sugar in days.

Everywhere she went, she left traces of herself behind. And he had slowly grown addicted to them.

He hadn’t expected this with her. Not at first. She was so different from the life he was used to, warm where the world was cold, thoughtful in a way that caught him off guard. She didn’t care about the race results, or the interviews, or the trophies. She cared if he ate, if he slept well, if he remembered to call his mum on Sundays.

And God, the way she loved him, without ever having to say it all the time. She just did. It was in the stupidly lopsided banner and the way she had sorted through a pack of balloons to only pick out McLaren colors. It was in the glass of warm milk she had set aside, because she knew he wouldn’t ask, but that he’d drink it anyway. It was in the smell of curry floating in the air, the kind that reminded him of nights curled up on the couch with her legs thrown over his, pretending not to be bored of watching the same movie for the eighteenth time.

She made this house feel like more than just walls and furniture. She made it feel safe.

And he, in his messy, often selfish, fast-paced world, had somehow found himself right in the middle of the kind of love people only dreamed about. The kind that didn’t come with fireworks and grand gestures, but instead existed in quiet, unwavering loyalty. The kind that tasted like rice and chicken curry at 11 PM on a Monday. The kind that made you want to come home, no matter how far you’d gone.

He looked at her, really looked; hair tied up in that claw clip she refused to throw out, sleeves rolled up, tiny flour smudge on her cheek from earlier, and his chest ached with how much he felt.

This wasn’t a phase. This wasn’t a fling. This was his future.

And he didn’t need to say it out loud to know that she already felt the same. Because in that kitchen, with the last crumbs of cake between them and tired smiles on their faces, they weren’t just in love.

They were building a life. And neither of them would trade it for anything.

phew, this is so gross. this is what happens when two clingy individuals start dating. god bless. pls send in some reqs from my prompt list if u would like to see some more!! thx

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: sailing day, replica / bokuto koutaro x reader

notes: aquatic accord (top), coriander (heart), red seaweed (base)

description: waves colliding with the hull of a boat, hair slicked beneath a blanket of seawater

disclaimer(s): pricey for what it offers

wc: 1613

warning(s): nothing!!! so so safe with me again today!!!

Your back arches against the railing of a sailboat, elbows propping you up against the cool metal as you breathe in the salty ocean. The rest of Fukurodani's volleyball team had retreated back into the beach house, washing away the sand and sea from their skin following a day of splashing around on the shore. Clad in nothing but a thin shirt and board shorts, you shiver at the night breeze that whirs past, whistling as it breaks the silence of the starry sky above. You breathe in again, yet the air no longer smells like salt, replaced by the stinging notes of mint and men.

"Kou, I swear can smell you from eight feet away."

Bokuto beams, a toothy grin plastered on his face as he descends the steps to the deck of the sailboat. His waist settles on the spot beside your own on the railing, hands going behind to press against the body of the boat. The rising tide sends waves crashing into the hull, and fine droplets of seawater tickle the tips of his fingers as he stares into the sky with you.

"Is my deodorant that strong, my beloved manager?"

"Yes, sweets. It's Axe deodorant, of course it's strong. What are you doing out here anyways? Won't they notice you're gone?"

Inching closer, his shoulder grazes against your own as he glances at you, hair still damp and droopy from his shower. You don't move away, relishing in the warmth of his contact.

"Out here trying to find you! They'll be fine in there without me anyways, so what if they notice?"

You chuckle, running your fingers through his wet hair as you ruffle his short strands, and droplets of water fling out at you. For somebody as boisterous and spontaneous as Bokuto, it's a miracle his teammates haven't figured the two of you out yet. Not the fleeting glances between you two when he's off court, nor the circles you absent-mindedly press into his shoulder blades after every match, not even the way he tosses you his water bottle for you to drink out of whenever you mention being thirsty.

"Your hair's still wet, and it's windy out here. You're going to get sick if you don't dry it off properly, Kou."

"Well, you're drying it for me like this now, so it's all good!"

Bokuto's hands come up from the hull of the boat to grab your own at the top of his head, bringing it down in front of him just to lock his fingers between yours. He takes a look at the sea ahead of him, sterling moonlight shimmering against pitch black water. His head inches towards yours earnestly, the pungent scent of Axe deodorant amplifies by tenfold at your proximity.

"Wanna take a dip?"

"Wh- now? You're in your pajamas and all!"

"Yeah! It's just a t-shirt and shorts anyways, I have another set! Please?"

His head tilts, and you curse doe-eyed Bokuto for being this difficult to refuse. Behind the hull of the boat, ocean waves crash against metal alluringly, hidden away from the rest of Fukurodani on the other side of shore. In your head, just for a bit, you'll be out of sight and out of mind to the rest of the team, free to have whatever it is between you two to yourselves, uninterrupted and unnoticed. That's more than you could really ask for, so you nod, and Bokuto runs to lower the boat ladder into the water, pushing himself over the railing and onto the steps. One arm reaches into the deck, and you push off against the railing as he pulls you up and over, steadying you with his hand in yours.

He doesn't spare a second in jumping into the sea without a warning, yanking you down with him as you manage to take half a breath in, before you are almost six feet below the surface. The saltwater stings your eyes as you search for Bokuto's, his hand still in yours yet his face nowhere to be found. He begins kicking, returning to the air as you drag along. As the two of you take in hearty inhales of oxygen, breaths syncing up, another breeze comes along and sends shivers through your soaked bodies. You waddle towards Bokuto's blurry figure, who swipes a hand through his slicked hair, and leads you back to the ladder.

Grabbing onto its handle, the cool metal beneath his palm holds him steady as he finally stops kicking beaneath the water. His other hand pulls at you, tugging you towards him. A strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close enough to loll his head over your shoulder, and you turn your head towards him. nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. His hair, softened by the water, pokes at your cheeks gently, and the striking notes of mint from his deodorant mixes with hints of sea salt and seaweed to form an amalgamation of the ocean's embrace. You smile into his neck, and he feels it in the way your lips curl up against his skin.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this all day, away from the team." Bokuto's voice is velvet smooth, rid of the gruff tone that masks this version of him. This version of him who's a little warmer, and a little softer around the edges. Him, who follows you home after Friday night trainings, only to hold you wordlessly for hours as you fall asleep buried in his chest. Him, who beneath the fleeting glances, and shoulder rubs, and bottle sharing, waits impatiently every single day until the moment he can sit on a bench, or a couch, or a bed, and learn the details that make up who you are, over and over and over again until they become a part of him too.

"Feels nice, Kou. Feels really nice."

Bokuto pulls away, only for his lips to find your own, and you can taste the salt from your dive. Your hand comes up to hold his face, skin slick from the seawater, and your fingers rub and tug at his wet hair. Waves crash at your bodies against the ladder, swaying you left and right, and he pulls away, pearly moonlight illuminating his smitten smile and rosy cheeks.

"Hey, you two! We're doing game night, so hurry up and get back inside!"

Your heads shoot towards the sound of Akaashi yelling from the deck of the sailboat, and the two of you scramble to climb the ladder, twisting water from your shirts when you land on the wooden floor. Bokuto's head hangs low, too embarrassed to face his friend, whose hands sit on his hips as he watches him wipe a wet hand down his face. You look away from him, eyes training onto anything that is not Akaashi or Bokuto. Oh look! Isn't the moon so pretty tonight?

"I'll be right in, I just need to shower again, sorry."

Akaashi grins, giving Bokuto a knowing nudge on the shoulder with his fist. The kind of nudge that tells the two of you everything you need to know- that everybody else had already caught on, way ahead of time.

"There's no need to rush though, you guys take all the time you want out here, we can start knowing the two of you are off doing whatever it is-"

"We got it! We'll be in soon!"

author's note:

bokuto is such a cutie patootie:( i love him and his stupid emotional ass so much:( i was kinda stuck on how to write this because it was hard trying to make sure bokuto wasn't ooc but also was being really sweet because he's always just so like out there??? idk i was looking at other fics for inspo and he was always super loud and grand gestures and i wasn't really going for that so it was fun to try and incorporate his usual character into something more mellow like this!!

i swear if i keep writing about the ocean and beaches i might become a beach and ocean lover after a whole decade of swearing i hate it ermmmmmm

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @fiannee @afyrian @starlysama @bailey-reeds @iiwaijime

ok love u guys see u soon bye bye

[daily-whistlebreeze]

daily whistlepaw until whe becomes PoV day 1340

the barn kids are a very energetic duo

[eggfeather]

coriander

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Stop Saving Me, Just Love Me.

Chapter 3

tag list: @one-sunny, @lostfliess (if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

thank the diva @hannahbarberra162 for her help suggesting edits, beta-ing, and commenting <33

a/n: we can breathe..Sanji is here. Oh wait- also, I don’t know what seasoning other people use, I use sazon completa with my eggs so that's what i did :p

wc: 1.7k

tw(again?): spiraling

chapter list | previous chapter (2) | next chapter (4)

Genius. The mirror forgot that part. It remembered the vomit, the shame, the whore—but not the genius. 3. Three things to shame you. Prime. But, one thing came before: Genius. 1. 3. Fibonacci. It makes sense now. You’re in order, at last. The black clouds fade, the noose lifting from your neck. Dipping your face in the water, you start to notice the running mascara. The black clouds hid that from you. You ignore it and wet your face, the water getting you out of your hungover haze. Your head still pounded like a motherfucker, but at least you can feel lucid now. The room slowed down, your two legs on the floor. Stand up. Stand up, goddamn it!   

When you finally do, Your back is straight. Straighter. You, anchored. You put on the clothes he offered you. They were clean– freshly pressed. Like he expected her to be someone worth folding fabric for.

You button the shirt slowly. One button per beat, per breath, per thought. Genius. Genius. Genius. 3. It's all lining up. The jeans hug you well. The belt cinches at your waist. Good. Tight. Real. Wearing his skin. 

You aren't going to write romance. You are going to write life.

Walking out of that bathroom, you are God.

The smell of the ground coffee beans filled the air, placing you back down here instead of the heavens. Following the scent, you are greeted with someone just as divine. The blonde man, cracking eggs skillfully into a bowl, a towel covering his lower half. Sanji turns to you, and smiles. “Thought you went back to bed, bébé.” 

You smile back, trying to match his. Too much? Do I look fucking insane? His energy, his suave. Remember it. Remember everything. Dialing it down, you wave off the sweet names, much as he did last night. “I was..” you trailed off, trying to make an excuse. Something that doesnt say you were reciting the numbers back towards yourself to feel something. “..pooping.” You cringed outwardly at your response, his face softening with laughter at your comical and sad example for a reason. His laugh was calm, steady. Remember that. Find a third adjective. There's no 2 in odd numbers. 

Steady hands, steady hands, like his. The sizzling sound of the oil hitting the pan, His soft humming filling the air like an orchestra. The smell of the eggs and the coffee fill the air. Amaretto, coriander, cumin, oregano, garlic, onion powder, and salt mixed and ground into a small bowl. The aromas dance nicely, feeling like a hearty breakfast from home. 

He pours two white ceramic mugs of coffee onto the counter and offers one to you. "Café, mon amour?" The endearment hangs between you - pretty but meaningless, like the French postcards collecting dust in your childhood bedroom.

“Three sugars.” You replied, keeping the unstable heavy mask on your face. 3. Prime. It’s perfect, and simply, it’s the only balance that feels good on your tounge.You watch your own fingers tremble as they tap the counter - tap-tap-tap. Steady hands. Keep steady hands.

His eyebrow arches as he drops three precise sugar cubes into your coffee. "Trois? Tu as une dent sucrée." He let the lightness from his chest reign free in his tease. The spoon clinks three times against porcelain. 3. Odd. You keep a satisfied smile on your face as he places the coffee on the white marble kitchen island. The liquid swirls, catching light in Fibonacci spirals. “Sit. I’ll take care of you today.”

The words slither under your skin. Care requires staying. Staying means rotting. Your smile stays fixed as the sugar coats your teeth—sticky-sweet delight as the coffee burns your throat.

Stay with him. Study him, just for a while. Let the rot get on your feet before your head. Just long enough to memorize the way the morning light licks the stubble on his jaw, the exact shade of his one visible eye—cerulean, not sky, not navy—cerulean, like the ocean at noon. The other hides behind honey-blonde strands, shaggy but organized, as if even his messiness is curated. His face; soft, warm, white skin. His eyebrow, curled at one of the ends. Note his appearances. He’s the perfect material for the manuscript. 

Rot. The aromas started filling the air again, mixed in with the smell of eggs. Rot. Rot. Rot. 3.Odd. It 's amazing. The way he masterfully flipped the omelette like a chef, his soul on the plate. You sip your coffee again, entranced in him, studying him again. His hands, gracefully holding the cast iron pan, he's beautiful. The mask you beautifully wore for him, to be him. You’re beautiful now, too. “Hungry?” he asks, voice light. His back still turned to you as he folds the omelette like it’s sacred.

You nod. Smile. “Starving.”

He plates it with the same care he gave your body. Like every detail mattered. Like serving you was an offer to the gods themselves.

The omelette lands in front of you. Perfectly folded. Still steaming. A sprinkle of green on top—parsley, maybe. You blink.

“Looks good.” your mouth spat out, while absent-mindedly staring at the breakfast he served you.

“I aim to please, though you don't seem too intrigued, mademoiselle. Something on your mind?” He leans his half-naked body over the kitchen island.

Fuck. Fuck. fuck. FUCK. Can he see through you?

The coffee is warm in your hands and in your throat. It grounds you. Burns just enough to remind you this is real. He watches. Not like he did last night, not hunger—but something gentler. Curiosity.  Take a bite. Look normal. So, you did. The egg melts on your tongue. Velvety. Rich. Familiar. You chew carefully. It 's delicious. You should capture this. Take it, savor it. 

His forearm rests on the table, elbow tucked in. The unlit cigarette dances like a conductor’s wand. There are calluses you didn’t notice last night. Old ones. Cooking scars. Knuckle scabs. A burn just above the wrist. 

His eyes are half-lidded, lazy blue. Studying you.

Mirror it. Look okay. 

“I’m fine.” You nod, chewing. Swallowing. The coffee stings as it goes down your throat like penance.

He leans back. So do you. The chair creaks. His chest rises with a long, slow exhale. Yours does too.

Silence stretches. He watches you eat like he’s unsure if you’ll finish it. You do. Bite by bite. Slowly. Calmly. Every movement rehearsed.

Underneath your skin, there’s a scream pressing against your ribs, fear of the rot reaching you. Fear of forgetting the manuscript of geniuses.

But you keep it tucked behind your smile.

The last bite disappears. You sip your coffee again. Cool now. Now, it should be okay to leave..right?

“Can..I get my stuff.?” You hesitate. 

You shouldn’t hesitate. You are a god. No more guilt. No more apologies. You don’t need forgiveness—you need a keyboard. A pen. A surface to bleed on. You peek at the bed you slept in last night out of craze. a crave. a grave. Doesn’t matter. He’s already immortal now. Immortalized in you. Immortalized for you.  Just get your stuff and leave.

“Take your time, Your bag is still in my room.”

You nod, standing up. Smooth. Graceful. Folded napkin beside the plate like a thank-you note.

“I’ll just—” You gesture lightly toward the hallway, toward the room. “Should only take a second.”

You leave the kitchen and dash into his room, not a thought in mind but to start writing. His room, stepping back onto that hardwood floor like it’s a stage. This might’ve been his apartment; but right now, right now, its your fucking show.  The smell of coffee still stings the air, as tempting as it is to get more, you don't need the energy. You need to get it out. Get the ink out of your body. Get out. Get out. Get the hell out of Dodge. You shouldn't be here, you should be writing. fuck. The feelings swirl back, making everything bright. The pain. Pounding. The craze. Stabbing your mind. You grip the doorframe like a lifeline, as if getting out of the bathroom was an impossible task. You’ll rot. You’ll rot into the floor, you will be the mold he removes. You will be forgotten. You will rot into nothing. 

Unless you write.

Unless you make this real.

Unless you carve his name into something that outlasts that ache. This high.

You stumble through the room, past the sheets that will always smell like him—bourbon, violets, cigarette ash, plot—and you don’t dare look back.

Though something stops you in your tracks, the fire burning the pages full of thought. His lighter, on the nightstand, reflecting back at you, your face in it. If you stay, any longer, the paper of thought burns. Take it. Make him swear your name. Give him something to remember in return for tattooing the answer into your brain. Grabbing it, you leave the room, and run for the front door, the porcelain mask you wore all morning finally slipped, and cracked. 

He heard it crack, too. He saw the cracks.

The paper burns. You will rot. You will become nothing, and stay nothing. You-

“Mademoiselle.” Mademoiselle. The word strikes the back of your neck like a bullet. a bullet wrapped in silk. Hard. Painful. Irrevocable. Yet, still trying to be soft, to batten down the pain. His words were going to kill your career, leaving you bleeding out.

You freeze mid-step, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob like it might bring a heartbeat back to the dying rose in your mind.

That voice. His voice.

Not a demand. Not a plea. Just… a name. Dressed in foreign softness, sweet nothings, wrapped in last night’s warmth. You don't turn around. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

Because if you do—you’ll stay. And if you stay, you’ll rot. You’ll become comfortable. You’ll become dependent. You’ll become her again. Slumped. 5 missed calls. Odd. 

NO! I’m going to write this. I’m going to hold a pen so sharp, the gods will bleed through my words. I found the key. I am going to make my publisher his fucking lock.

“Don't wait up.” Then you finally release and open the damn door.

He doesn’t stop you. He shouldn’t. This isn’t his story. This is yours.

 And it’s not over until your fingers break.

[lemnnshark]

"Coriander is a dark gray tom with green eyes."

[angeliikiit]

Littledaisycharic // Gender related to Little Daisy from Warriors

Corianderkincharic // Gender related to Coriander (Daisy's Kin) from Warriors

Art by @/cloudtail

[clover-warriorcats-main]

All Named Animal Characters In Warrior Cats A–Z (PART 1)

COPIED OFF OF THE WARRIORS WIKI

(UPDATED AS OF IVYPOOL'S HEART)

* MAY CONTAIN NAME BASED SPOILERS *

* THIS LIST CONTAINS ALL NAMED CHARACTERS ASIDE FROM HUMANS *

* I DON'T THINK I MISSED ANYONE? *

* LONG LIST BELOW CUT *

PART 2

- A -

Acorn Fur

Acornpaw

Acorntail

Adderfang

Adderkit

Adderpaw (WC)

Ajax

Alder

Alderheart

Algernon

Amberclaw

Amberleaf

Ambermoon

Antfur

Antpelt

Apple Blossom

Appledawn

Appledusk

Applefrost

Applefur (OOTS)

Applefur (TF)

Appleshine

Arc

Arc Shadow

Archeye

Ashfoot

Ashfur (ShC)

Ashfur (TC)

Ashheart

Aspenfall

Aspentail

- B -

Bacon

Badgerfang

Bailey

Barkface

Barley

Bayshine

Beach

Bee (CotP)

Bee (Ro)

Beech

Beech Tail

Beechfur (RC)

Beechfur (TC)

Beechpaw (SkC)

Beechstar

Beenose

Beepaw (SkC)

Beetail

Beetle

Beetlenose

Beetlepaw (SkC)

Beetlewhisker

Bella (KP)

Bellaleaf

Benny

Berryheart

Berrynose

Bess

Betsy

Bigteeth

Billystorm

Birch

Birchbark

Birchface

Birchfall

Birchpaw (ASC)

Birchstar (RC)

Birchstar (SkC)

Birchstar (WC)

Bird That Rides The Wind

Birdflight

Birdsong

Birdwing

Birdy

Black Ear

Blackbee

Blackclaw

Blackstar

Blade

Blazefire

Blizzardstar

Blizzardwing

Bloomheart

Bloomkit

Blossom

Blossomfall

Blossomheart

Blossomkit (ShC)

Blue Whisker

Bluebellkit

Bluestar

Bob

Bone

Boots

Boulder

Boulderfur

Bouncefire

Bound Hunt

Bracken

Brackenfoot

Brackenfur

Brackenheart

Brackenpelt

Brackenwing

Bramble

Brambleberry

Brambleclaw(star)

Branch (DotC)

Branch (HJ)

Branchkit

Brandy

Braveheart

Breeze That Rustles The Leaves

Breezeheart

Breezepelt

Briarlight

Brick

Bright Stream

Brightflower

Brightheart

Brightsky

Brightspirit

Brightwhisker

Brindleclaw

Brindleface

Brindlestar

Brindlewing

Bristlebark

Bristlefrost

Bristlepaw (ASC)

Broken Feather

Broken Shadow

Brokenstar

Brook Where Small Fish Swim

Brookkit

Brownpaw

Brushpaw

Bubbling Stream

Bug

Bugeater

Bumble

Bumblestripe

Bunny (Dog)

Burr

Buster

Buttercup

Buzzardkit

Buzzardstar

- C -

Casper

Cedarheart

Cedarpelt (RC)

Cedarstar

Chalk

Chasing Clouds

Cheddar

Cherryfall

Cherryfeather

Cherrypaw

Cherrytail

Chester

Chestnut

Chestnutkit

Chirp

Chiveclaw

Cinderfur

Cinderheart

Cinderpelt

Cinders

Cinnamontail

Claw

Claw Stretch

Clawface

Clawwhistle

Cleo

Cloud (Sister)

Cloud Spots

Cloud With Star In Belly

Cloud With Storm In Belly

Cloudberry (RC)

Cloudberry (TC)

Cloudmist

Cloudpelt

Cloudrunner

Cloudstar

Cloudtail

Cloudy

Cloudy Sun

Clover (TC)

Cloverfoot

Cloversplash

Clovertail

Coal (FQ)

Coal (TNP)

Cobweb

Coco (DK)

Coco (PK)

Cody

Conefoot

Copperpaw

Cora

Coriander (BrS)

Coriander (DK)

Cow (MFV)

Creek

Creek

Creekfeather

Crest Of Snowy Mountain

Cricket (DotC)

Cricketkit

Croak

Crookedstar

Crouchfoot

Crow Muzzle

Crowfeather

Crowfrost

Crowfur

Crowtail

Crystal

Curlfeather

Curlypaw

Curry

Cypresspaw

- D -

Daffodil

Daisy (DK)

Daisy (TC)

Daisyheart

Daisytail

Daisytoe

Dancing Leaf

Dandelionkit

Dangling Leaf

Dappled Pelt

Dapplenose

Dappletail

Dappletuft

Dark Shadow On Water

Dark Whiskers

Darkflower

Darkfoot

Darkstar (CotC)

Darkstar (MV)

Darkstar (SkC)

Darkstripe

Darktail

Dart

Dash

Dawn Mist

Dawn River

Dawnbright

Dawncloud

Dawnfeather

Dawnflower

Dawnpelt

Dawnstar

Dawnstripe

Deadfoot

Deerdapple

Deerfoot

Deerleap

Deerpaw (PC)

Dew

Dew Nose

Dew Petal

Dewkit (ShC)

Dewnose

Dewspots

Dewspring

Dewstar

Dewy Leaf

Diesel

Dodge

Doespring

Doestar

Domino

Dotty

Dove's Wing

Dovestar (RC)

Dovestar (WC)

Dovewing

Downkit

Dragonfly

Driftkit

Drizzle

Duckpaw

Dudley

Duke

Dusk Nose

Dusk Smoke

Duskfur

Duskkit

Duskpaw

Duskwater

Dust Muzzle

Dustpelt

Duststar

- E -

Eagle Feather

Eaglekit (WC)

Eaglestorm

Eaglewing

Ebonyclaw

Echomist

Echosnout

Echosong

Eeltail (CotC)

Eeltail (MV)

Egg

Eggs

Elderkit

Ember

Emberdawn (LH)

Emberdawn (TBC)

Emberfoot

Emberkit (CJ)

Emberkit (DotC)

Emberstar

- F -

Falcon Swoop

Fall

Fallen Leaves

Fallensnow

Falling Dusk

Falling Feather

Falling Rain

Fallowfern

Fallowkit

Fallowpaw

Fallowsong

Fallowstar

Fallowtail

Fang

Fawnstep

Feather (GC)

Feather Ear

Feather Of Flying Hawk

Featherkit

Featherpelt

Featherstar

Featherstorm

Feathertail

Featherwhisker

Featherwing

Fennelstar

Fern Leaf

Ferncloud

Fernleaf

Fernpelt

Fernshade

Fernsong

Fernstripe

Ferretclaw

Ferris

Fidgetflake

Fierce

Filou

Finch Song

Finchflight

Finchkit (WC)

Finchlight

Finchstar

Finleap

Fircone

Fireface

Firefern

Firefly

Firestar

Firkit

Fish Leap

Flailfoot

Flame

Flamenose

Flamepelt

Flametail

Flashnose

Flaxfoot

Fleck

Fleetfoot (Leopard)

Flick

Flickerkit

Flight Of Startled Heron

Flintfang

Flipclaw

Floatkit

Floss

Flower (KP)

Flower (Lo)

Flower (Ro)

Flower Foot

Flower Stream

Flowerpaw (TC)

Flowerstar

Flowerstem (AVoS)

Floyd

Flurry

Flutter

Flutterfoot

Fluttering Bird

Flystar

Flytail

Flywhisker

Fog

Foggy

Fognose

Fox (DotC)

Foxclaw

Foxheart

Foxleap

Foxnose

Foxwhisker

Foxy

Frecklewish (SkC)

Frecklewish (TC)

Fringewhisker

Frisk

Fritz (KP)

Fritz (Lo)

Frog (Ro)

Frogleap

Frogtail

Frondwhisker

Frost

Frostclaw

Frostfur

Frostpaw (RC)

Frosty

Furled Bracken

Fury (GV)

Fury (Boar)

Furze

Furzepelt

Fuzz

Fuzzball

Fuzzypelt

- G -

Galekit

Galestar

Goldenflower

Goldenstar (Lion)

Gooseberry

Goosefeather

Gorseclaw (RC)

Gorseclaw (TC)

Gorseclaw (WC)

Gorsefoot

Gorsepaw (WC)

Gorsestar

Gorsetail (PoT)

Gorsetail (TNP)

Grass

Grassheart

Grasskit (WC)

Grasspelt

Grasswhisker

Gravelnose

Gray Sky Before Dawn

Gray Wing (WC)

Graymist

Graypaw (RC)

Graypaw (TC)

Graypool

Graystripe

Graywing (RC)

Greeneyes

Greenflower

Gremlin

Growler

Grub

Gullswoop

- H -

Hailstar

Hal

Half Moon

Halftail

Hareflight (FQ)

Hareflight (TR)

Harelight

Harepounce

Harestar

Harley

Harrybrook

Harveymoon

Hatchkit

Hattie

Havenpelt

Hawk (RH)

Hawk (Sister)

Hawk Swoop

Hawkfoot

Hawkfrost

Hawkfur

Hawkheart

Hawksnow

Hawkstar

Hawkwing

Hayberry

Haze

Hazel Burrow

Hazelstar

Hazeltail

Hazelwing

Heatherstar

Heathertail

Heavystep

Henry

Heronwing (RC)

Heronwing (TC)

Hickorynose

Hillkit

Hollow

Hollow Tree

Hollowbelly

Hollowflight

Hollowspring

Holly

Hollyflower

Hollykit (TNP)

Hollyleaf

Hollypelt

Hollystar

Hollytuft

Honey Pelt

Honeyfern

Honeyfur

Honeyleaf

Honeytail

Hoot

Hootwhisker

Hop Scratch

Hopekit

Hopper

Hopwhisker

Houndleap

Houndstar

Hunt Growl

Hunt Leap

Hunter

Husker

Hussar

Hutch

- I -

Ice (Sister)

Icecloud

Icewhisker

Icewing

Icicle

Ivypool

Ivystar

Ivytail (RC)

Ivytail (ShC)

- J -

Jack

Jackdaw's Cry

Jacques

Jagged Lightning

Jagged Peak

Jagged Rock Where Heron Sits

Jaggedtooth

Jake (IH)

Jake (TPB)

Jasper

Jay

Jay Frost

Jay's Wing

Jayclaw

Jayfeather

Jessamy

Jessy

Jester

Jet

Jigsaw

Jingo

Jumper

Jumpfoot

Juniper Branch

Juniperclaw

Juniperkit

- K -

Kestrelflight

Kestrelwing

Kinkfur

Kinktail

Kite Wing

Kitescratch

- L -

Lakeheart

Lakeshine

Lakestorm

Lapping Wave

Larchkit (MV)

Larchkit (TNP)

Lark (CotP)

Lark That Sings At Dawn

Larksong (AVoS)

Larksong (BP)

Larksplash

Larkwing (BrS)

Larkwing (FQ)

Lavenderkit

Leaf (Lo)

Leaf (TC)

Leafkit (WC)

Leafpool

Leafshade

Leafshine

Leafstar

Leafstorm

Leaftail

Leap Growl

Leopardfoot

Leopardstar

Lichen

Lichenfur

Lightleap

Lightning

Lightning Stripe

Lightning Tail

Lightningpaw

Lightningpelt

Lily (FQ)

Lily (GV)

Lilyflower

Lilyfur

Lilystar

Lilyheart

Lilystem

Lilywhisker

Lion's Roar

Lionblaze

Lioneye

Lionheart

Lionstar

Little Mew

Littlebird

Littlecloud

Littlekit (YS)

Littlestep

Livy

Lizardfang

Lizardstripe

Lizardtail

Logfur

Loki

Longtail

Loudbelly

Lowbranch

Lulu

Luna

Lynxkit

- M -

Macgyver

Madric

Mae

Magda

Maggottail

Magpie

Mallowfur

Mallownose

Mallowtail

Mapleshade

Maplestar

Maplewhisker

Marigold (GV)

Marigold (TS)

Marigoldkit

Marlow

Marmalade

Marshcloud

Marshkit

Marshpaw

Marshscar

Max (KP)

Max (Ro)

Meadowpelt

Meadowslip

Melody

Melting Ice

Merry

Micah

Midge

Midgepelt

Milkfur (MV)

Milkfur (WC)

Milkfur (YS)

Milkweed

Millie

Minnowkit (CotC)

Minnowkit (CP)

Minnowtail

Mintfur (RC)

Mintfur (SkC)

Mintkit (ShC)

Mintpaw (CJ)

Minty (KP)

Minty (Ro)

Misha

Mist (CP)

Mist (RH)

Mist Where Sunlight Shimmers

Mistcloud

Mistfeather

Mistkit (TC)

Mistlekit (SkC)

Mistlekit (TC)

Mistmouse

Mistpaw

Mistpelt

Misty

Misty Water

Mistystar

Mittens

Mitzi (KP)

Mitzi (Lo)

Mole

Molepaw

Molepelt

Molewhisker (RC)

Molewhisker (TC)

Molly

Monkeystar

Moon (Sister)

Moon Shadow

Moon Shining On Water

Moonflower

Moonlight

Moonpaw (CS)

Morning Fire

Morning Star

Morning Whisker

Morningcloud

Morningflower

Morningkit

Morningmist

Morningstar

Moss (KP)

Moss Tail

Moss That Grows By River

Mossfire

Mossheart (ShC)

Mossheart (TC)

Mosskit (TC)

Mossleaf

Mosspaw (ShC)

Mosspelt

Mossyfoot

Moth (CotP)

Moth Flight

Mothpelt

Mothwhisker

Mothwing

Mottlepaw

Mouse (MFV)

Mouse Ear

Mousefang

Mousefur

Mousewhisker

Mousewing

Mouthclaw (Snake)

Mud

Mud Paws

Mudclaw (ShC)

Mudclaw (WC)

Muddyclaw

Mudfur

Mudpuddle

Mudthorn

Mumblefoot

Myler

Myrtlebloom

- N -

Nami

Nectarsong

Needleclaw

Needletail

Nettle (AVoS)

Nettle (DotC)

Nettlebreeze

Nettleclaw

Nettlepad

Nettlepaw (RC)

Nettlesplash

Nettlespot

Newtspeck

Night (Ro)

Night Of No Stars

Nightcloud

Nightfur

Nightheart

Nightkit (TC)

Nightmask

Nightsky (TBC)

Nightstar (RC)

Nightstar (ShC)

Nightwhisper

Nightwing

Nutmeg (OC)

Nutmeg (Ro)

Nutmeg (TPB)

Nutmeg (TR)

Nutwhisker

- O -

O'Hara

Oakfur

Oakheart

Oakleaf

Oakstar

Oakstep

Oatclaw

Oatpaw (RC)

Oatspeckle

Oatwhisker (TC)

Oatwhisker (WC)

Oddfoot

Olive

Olivenose

Oliver

One Eye (DotC)

One-eye (TPB)

Onestar

Onion

Oscar

Otterheart

Ottersplash

Owl

Owl Feather

Owl Song

Owlclaw

Owlfur

Owlnose

Owlstar

Owlwhisker

- P -

Pad

Pale Sky

Palebird

Palefoot

Palesky

Pancakes

Parsleyseed

Parsnip

Pasha

Patch (KP)

Patch (RF)

Patch Pelt

Patchfoot

Patchkit (MV)

Patchpelt

Peanut

Pearnose

Pebble Heart

Pebble That Rolls Down Mountain

Pebblefoot

Pebblefur

Pebbleshine

Peg

Pepper

Perchkit

Perchpaw (MV)

Perchwing

Percy

Petal (DotC)

Petal (Sister)

Petaldust

Petalfall

Petalfur

Petalkit (Lion)

Petalkit (TC)

Petalnose

Petunia

Pickle

Pigeonflight

Pigeonfoot

Pikepaw (BotC)

Pikepaw (MO)

Piketooth

Pine (TS)

Pine Needle

Pine That Clings To Rock

Pineclaw

Pinefur

Pinenose

Pinestar

Pink Eyes

Pip (Dog)

Piper

Pipsqueak

Pixie

Plumclaw

Plumstone

Plumwillow

Pod

Podlight

Polly

Poolcloud

Poppycloud

Poppydawn

Poppyfrost

Pounce (RP)

Pounce Whisper

Pouncestep

Pouncetail (RC)

Pouncetail (ShC)

Prickleface

Pricklekit (RC)

Pricklekit (WC)

Pricklenose

Primrosepaw

Princess

Prowl Sleek

Puddleshine

Pumpernickel

Pumpkin

Purdy

Purr Roll