#how neat is that. check and mate

[cherry-leclerc]

the red high heels ☆ cs55

genre: humor, secret relationship, leclerc!twins

word count: 1.9k

It's 2am and Charles is desperate to find you. Who better to help look for you than his teammate?

req... guys, i literally wrote different versions of this request at least 5 times...anyways, hope you enjoy a quick one :)

Groaning, Carlos stands up from his bed, making his way to the door. It’s 2 am and he was far too comfortable until he was rudely interrupted. Opening the door, he sees a despaired Charles, dark under eyes evident. “Charles? Are you okay, man?” His voice is raw and croaky almost. His teammate shakes his head, then nods.

“Fuck, it’s just that…my sister. Mate, I don’t know where she is.” Hearing this, the Spaniard narrows his eyes, all of a sudden awake. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“Well, I checked her room, I called her and nothing. We’re supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour!” 

Carlos stays still for a moment. “Okay, I’ll help you look for her, she can’t be too far out. She’s not like that.” The Monegasque nods slowly before beginning to slump his way into the room. Carlos sprints after him.

“Oh! Um…How about you wait outside? It’s just that the room is so messy.” Turning his gaze, he points to the spotless room. Charles frowns. 

“Carlos, this has got to be the cleanest room I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” He scrunches his nose before waving his hands in his teammates direction. “Hurry and put on a shirt so we can leave.” With tight lips, he nods. He’s slow about it too, the way he makes his way to his suitcase. Opening it, it’s empty. He slightly curses himself for being too much of a neat freak that he just had to organize his clothes into the small closet. “Some girl kept your shirt?” Charles' smile is teasing as he sends over a playful wink. Carlos winces.

“Of course not! Just have to…” He points over to the closet that is on the other side of the room. He pats his face. “You know what? I think I’m going to put my shoes on first! I’ll be quick, if you want we can meet outside.” 

“It’s no big deal. I can wait. I mean you are helping me after all.” The brown eyed man wants to yell when a kind smile tugs at Charles’ lips. Get out, get out, get outttt. 

“Of course.” Leaning down to grab his Golden Goose under the bed he takes a deep breath. His heart is beating so fast, he thinks it might leap out of his chest. Charles is talking, but all is unclear as Carlos reaches down. He quickly relaxes when he finds his shoes. He lets out a shaky breath.

“Oh no. Is your age getting the best out of you?” Charles snickers as Carlos grunts before sitting beside him, slipping on his shoes ever so slowly. Charles is growing impatient, he could tell. This was good.

“So, um, where do you think she is?” Carlos questions as he unties his other shoe. Charles hums.

“You know what? I have a feeling she’s not that far…Twin telepathy.” The broody man rolls his eyes as Charles shares a thoughtful glance. He laughs. “Call it what you want, but that shit exists.” 

“I bet.”

The green eyed boy furrows his brows at Carlos’ clumsy fingers playing with his laces. He desperately huffs. “Do you need help or something?”

“Almost got it…” The white strings become undone for what seems the millionth time before he finally gets the grips of it. Bravo, Charles mutters. 

“Coming back to what you were saying, what do you mean by twin telepathy?” Carlos stands up making his way to his empty suitcase again but Charles doesn’t even seem to notice as he becomes entertained by his bracelets. 

“Oh, well, it’s real. I feel like she can’t be that far. How else do you think I would win at tag when we were younger?” He raises an eyebrow over his teammate. He continues with a now moody face. “Though, something else tells me she’s with someone, y’know?” Carlos chokes as he turns to face Charles. I don’t, he squeaks out. “It’s just that I’ve had this feeling that she might be seeing someone from the grid. I told her not to and she said she would never, but I don’t know why I could never really believe her. Plus, she’s oddly been attached to her phone a tad bit too much.”

Just then Carlos’ phone rings. They both shoot their eyes to the bright light that shines in the middle of the messy bed sheets. Reaching out, Charles grabs it before handing it over. You should probably answer. Hastily, he takes it. 

Get. Him. Out.

He coughs as he slips his phone into his back pocket. “Hey, why don’t you start looking for her without me? I swear I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I don’t know where else to look, I’ve tried everywhere! Just hurry so we can brainstorm ideas. I swear to God when I find her-” A light thud echoes the small room as he cocks his head to the side in attentiveness. He raises his hand to his ear. “Did you hear that?”

The Spaniard immediately goes to rub his elbow. “I just hit my arm, that’s all.” 

“Be careful, mate.” He stands up. “Okay grab your shirt.”

“Mierda. I can’t find it.” But that's a lie because just a couple of feet behind Charles, it lies. Right next to a pair of red heels. Charles' eyes roam the room with a slightly annoyed expression before spotting it. Picking it up, he pauses. When he turns around he wears a toothy grin.

“Oh shit! You have a girl over! That’s why you went all shy!” He picks up the heel. “That’s crazy. Looks just like my sisters. Girls just have the same taste these days…”

Carlos quickly grabs the shirt from him before snatching the heel back too. “I-I didn’t–I mean I did, but she left! She must have forgotten her sh–” The words tumble past his lips so fast that he doesn’t notice how Charles’ expression has dropped.

The red high heel could have been anyones, true, but not everyone had your initials at the bottom. He knows since he was the one who had gifted them to you as a birthday present. You had begged for months.

“Hope you shut up now that you have them,” he says as you smile down at the designer heels. You nod happily. 

“I promise I’ll take care of them, Charlie! So sweet, I mean, you even added a nice detail!”

He’s fuming, but he’s also confused. “You motherfucker–”

“It’s just a shoe, mate!” Carlos' voice cracks in nervousness as his teammate strolls his way over. The Monegasque quickly grabs Carlos’ collared shirt as he pushes him against the closet. His body thuds as he groans. 

“Where’s my sister?” His harsh glare doesn’t equal his tone and that scares Carlos just a tiny…lot. 

“I don’t know! Let’s go look for her!” He tries to pry Charles’ hands off, but this only makes him push him back against the wood, harder. He cringes.

“Stop lying.” When Carlos looks down and doesn’t respond, he doesn’t think twice as he starts to bang his body against the brown doors. It shakes so much that the closet starts to get slightly unbalanced. And then…

It tips over.

Reacting quickly, Charles swiftly pulls Carlos away as they both fall onto the floor. The closet falls with a loud thud as they both gasp. But Carlos is quick to try to lift it up. “Calm down, it’s just a closet-”

“Fuck you, your sister is inside!”

Charles’ eyes go wide as he runs over to help his teammate. Finally, once it’s stood up correctly, they open the doors in a hurry. You moan as you rub your head.

“You both are so fucking innsufferable.” Your eyes are screwed shut when you reach your arm out for help. Your boyfriend is about to help you but your brother beats him to it. He leads you to the bed as you curl into a ball. “Oh God, I think I have a concussion.”

“We should take her to the hospital,” Carlos says as Charles bites down onto his nails. He agrees. They care, of course they do, but they’re not smooth about it.

“You grab her head and I’ll grab her legs.” Charles instructs as Carlos nods. 

“No!” You sit up straight as you crawl further away from them. “I’m fine.” 

“Amor, you should get checked out-”

“I don’t like that nickname. Stop it.” Charles mutters as he crosses his arms. You ignore him.

“Seriously, I’m fine. All your clothes saved me.” He lets out a sarcastic laugh as you giggle. Charles can’t help but glare at both of you.

“Okay, since you’re feeling well, then we should leave. Now.” 

“No.”

His gaze sharpens as you cuddle your legs to your chest. “Stop being a brat. Let’s go.” He reaches out for you but you only kick his arms away. I’ll leave with Carlos, you bicker back. “Just shut up. Let’s. Go.” He reaches out to grab your legs as he starts to drag you towards him, but you’re kicking and screaming so loud that he lets go to cover his ears. He almost loses it when you run over to Carlos as you hug him like your favorite teddy bear.

“You can go. I want to leave with Carlos.”

He clicks his tongue as he places his hands on his hips. He taps his shoe. “Listen, say goodbye or whatever you want, but you are not going anywhere with him.” You shake your head. Carlos sighs as he places a kiss to the top of your head.

“I think he’s right.” 

I don’t need your help controlling my sister, Charles wants to warn him but he doesn’t when he notices you deflate, furthermore. “No, I want to stay with you. I can deal with him later.” The Spaniard unties your hands from his waist before he leans down to place a kiss on your cheek.

“No, you should listen to your brother.” You know he isn’t breaking up with you, but perhaps a bang to the head has you slightly sensitive. Tears slowly fill up your eyes.

“Do you not want me anymore?” Your voice is small and he wants to punch himself for causing so much confusion. He’s about to say, you know I always do, but decides not to answer when he looks up at Charles, who stands by quietly.

“I…”

Charles awkwardly clears his throat as he twists his heel. You muster up the dirtiest stare possible as you say, “What do you want now?” He winces at your tone as he exhales in defeat.

“You can stay.” You narrow your eyes as you let out a wobbly smile. Are you serious? He nods as Carlos smiles at him in thankfulness. “But we spoke about this so many times, didn’t we? I always warned you that relationships like this take lots of taking care of, that's the main reason why I was always so against it, never because I didn’t want to see you happy.” His eyes flicker to Carlos, who’s attention remains on you. 

“I know that, but I don’t care. I’m willing to learn.”

“I know you are. And you.” He points sharply at the Spaniard. “I can’t believe you went behind my back! That’s my sister!” Calm down, you plead. “You know what, we’re twins, so I hope you think of me when you kiss her-”

The room goes silent as you stare back with wide eyes. Once a single giggle is let out, a string only follows as you hurl over laughing. “That’s so wrong!” Charles blushes.

“Forget I said anything, just…Be careful and treat her right.”

Carlos bobs his head as he hugs you from behind and you lean into his touch with a glow Charles has never seen on you. 

“I swear to God I will always do that.”

[grison-in-space]

I'm sorry? Pigeons have to coo to ovulate?

okay, okay, I left this one out in the tags without elaborating the other day and you were not the only person who asked-- @nanavn and @corvus--caurinus were also curious. I did not have a ton of time yesterday when my brain was not leaking out my ears, so here I am today.

First, I apparently misremembered my grad school teachings: the best-documented case study of doves being required to hear their own coo in order to ovulate is that of the ring or Barbary dove (Streptopelia risoria), not the rock dove which gave rise to our domestic pigeons (Columba livia). They look like this:

They're the domestic doves you see sometimes that aren't domestic pigeons.

But yes, I was completely serious: hens need to very specifically hear their own nest coo to ovulate. The way it works is this: these doves have a very specific courtship pattern, where courting males at different stages of the nesting process perform first a "bow" coo, then a nest coo. Then the hen makes a nest coo back, and the pair goes on to build a nest together in which the hen will lay fertile eggs.

If you prevent the hen from producing this coo--and the first paper I've linked does this in several different ways with both neural lesions and also mechanical blocks of the synrinx--she will not ovulate. Then Dr. Cheng tried rescuing the effect for doves who could hear but not produce their own coos by playing back recordings of devocalized doves' own nest coos, recordings of other hen's nest coos, recordings of male nest coos (their own males, I think, for preference?) and no recordings at all. Hen nest coo recordings, especially the recordings of the hens themselves, were enough to rescue ovulation effect... but deafened hens who could, themselves produce nest coos weren't able to make ovulation happen half the time even when the male was right there. The male nest coo and his mating display is really important, because his coo stimulates the female to make her nest coo, and that's where ovulation starts.

In 2003, a little over a decade later, Dr. Cheng wrote a whole book chapter about auditory self-stimulation as a phenomenon in neuroendocrine shifts. It makes for pretty interesting reading! I'm going to really enjoy it this afternoon. Stimulated ovulation is actually a pretty common phenomenon in animals--often it makes more sense to only bother ovulating if you know there's a partner around to use whatever eggs you yield up--but this one is one of the most interesting and elaborate systems out there, and definitely the one that offers the most options to a given female dove to potentially consciously control her reproductive output.

But grison, you might ask, what about the doves outside my window? Is this just a function of this one dove species, or are lots of doves doing this to make ovulation happen? So I went looking to find out whether anyone has checked. The thing is that the heyday of pigeon behavioral research has faded somewhat in the intervening decades since Dr. Cheng's discovery, so there's not as much as I might hope where people sat down to investigate the question. I did, however, find a neat study on Columba livia demonstrating that auditory stimulation is more important to courtship displays and success than visual displays are, although of course the multisensory courtship is stronger than either sensory modality alone. So yeah, the cooing back and forth really loudly is part of a display that is functionally necessary for successfully producing offspring, and the auditory component is important for basically every pigeon that has been studied in this respect (albeit that number is pitifully small).

I also found this really interesting review of known uses of birdsong to set internal emotional states in birds (either for the self or for a partner or flockmates) that I want to look into with more detail, plus this really thoughtful review from Dr. Donna Maney talking about how "incentive salience" can use learning and experience to make certain cues bring up neuroendocrine changes in state over time, which helps individuals control how their endocrine system is reacting to stimuli in the world they've been shaped by. Clearly I have some reading to do...

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Tenth Doctor NSFW Alphabet

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

TENTH DOCTOR NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ten is the cuddliest being in the entire universe after sex. Cuddles, kisses, snuggles. He’s basically a barnacle. He adores giving you cuddles just as much as he receives them. I also feel like he’d absolutely adore nuzzling his nose against your jaw and/or neck. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of his own are his teeth/hands.

His favourite body part of his partner is their eyes. One of the most important things for him in a partner is their eyes. Being able to see compassion, kindness- love in someone’s eyes. There’s nothing that makes him fall in love faster. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ten can cum a lot. Something to do with Time Lord genetics. When they mate, they mate to conceive (biologically speaking) so whenever Ten ejaculates, there can be a lot if he’s not had any for a while or if he’s been edging. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

A dirty secret of Ten’s is how much he fantasises and thinks about rubbing his cock against your clit/dick. It’s one of his favourite things, and he thinks about it way more than he should. He has- on more than one occasion, rubbed his thumb over his sonic screwdriver and thought about putting it inside you too. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ten is experienced. He’s lived for 900-odd years. He hasn’t had a plethora of partners, but he’s had enough (both longer-term and one-night) but he’s experienced enough to know what he’s doing and how to get his partner exactly where he wants them. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He’s not fancy about it, but he adores being able to look into your eyes as he brings you pleasure. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the circumstance. Generally speaking, he’s more romantic than goofy, but he also believes that if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex- they’re not the one for you. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not shaved, but he’s not unruly either. He’s neat. Trimmed. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ten’s all about the intimacy. He’s all about soft loving looks, hand-holding, and adoring caresses. He’s so romantic (most of the time) that it’s almost sickening. Even when he’s rough, he’s still romantic. Check-ins, kisses, reassuring touches and smooches. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ten tries not to jack off too much since he has you, but he’s not opposed to jacking off in the shower if you’re not in the mood. He also has a bit of a thing for you watching him jack off. There’s just something about it that gets him hot and bothered. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hair-pulling. The man is OBSESSED with having his hair pulled. He’s pretty sure he could cum untouched from that. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

TARDIS console room or his bedroom are his two favourite places to do it, but he’s not picky. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing touches and sultry looks will get Ten going faster than anything. A brush over his shoulders, a light pat on his bum. If he’s feeling dominant, teasing him will definitely get him going. Behaving bratty and ignorant of how your words, looks and touches impact him will definitely have him all over you as soon as possible. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Knife or gun-play. It’s not for him. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, but he enjoys receiving, too. Mostly when he’s feeling submissive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on the circumstances. If he’s feeling submissive and is receiving, he wants it loving but fast. He wants toys or cocks jackhammering into his ass. If he’s feeling dominant, he likes to make it slower and more sensual in order to tease you. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ten isn’t huge on quickies. He enjoys them, but he’d much rather be able to take his time and really enjoy the moment with you. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ten is open to experimentation, but at 900 years old, there’s not much he hasn’t done that isn’t a huge no-no for him. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ten can last about five to seven rounds before he starts to tire. That Time Lord biology does not quit. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ten likes toys. He likes to use them on his partners more than receive, but having you fuck his cock with a fleshlight? Well, lets say that did something to him that he was not expecting. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When he’s dominant, he’s very unfair. Or he can be. It depends on how naughty you’ve been. When he’s submissive, he’s only teasing when he wants to be punished. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ten isn’t super loud, but he’s not opposed to making some noise, either. He’s louder when he’s being edged, for sure. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ten loves to have you ride him. He adores watching you on top of him and taking charge. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s not super thick, but he is quite a bit longer than the average human. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Ten’s sex drive is moderate. He’s not jonesing for it all the time, but he likes a good fuck at least two or three times a week. More if he’s really in the mood. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Ten doesn’t really fall asleep very quickly after sex unless he’s gone about eight rounds. That will tire him out like nothing else. Because he doesn’t fall asleep quickly, he likes to brush your hair and lull you to sleep on his chest for a while.

[bonefall]

BB!Nightcloud

Nightcloud Woobification Army ASSEMBLE.

There's actually very little canon information on Nightcloud outside of how her ex-mate deflects blame onto her, which she is notoriously demonized for. So for Better Bones, I've cooked up a backstory from scratch! I feel this character deserves to exist outside of her romantic relationship, y'know?

Make sure to check the BB!WindClan Family Tree if you recognize any of the repurposed Missing Kits!

Clanmew Name: Oogarhai (The period of time where the sun has set + fat cloud) Official nickname: Nico (NIghtClOud), Oogi (OOGarhaI)

Alignment: WindClan

Relationships: Ex-mate - Crowfeather Child - Breezepelt Family (all deceased) - Hillrunner (Mi), Downwind (aunt, bio-mother), Tawnyfur (sister), Crowfur (grandparent) Mentor - Addersong

Nightcloud is a controversial warrior of WindClan, and also among its largest, strongest cats. She continuously finds herself tangled up in nearly every massive conflict since the day they arrived at the lake, with only some of these events being things she ever had a choice to be involved in.

Though she yearns for a more peaceful life, her violent, stressful childhood following the WindClan Massacre carved deep distrust of outsiders into her bones. It lead her to the lowest point in her life, fighting for Mudclaw during the WindClan Civil War. The following years of distrust, Crowfeather's mistreatment, and the abuse towards her son, Breezepelt, made much of Nightcloud's life lonely and stressful.

In spite of that, she absolutely adores her son and stands by his side no matter what. After the secret that Crowfeather sired kits with a ThunderClan Cleric is revealed and he is banished for a few moons for dramatic, codebreaking behavior at the reveal, a "spell" that he cast over WindClan begins to lift. In his absence, Nightcloud is able to truly begin fixing her reputation.

Though Breezepelt still has a way to fall as a new POV in BB!AVoS, where his treatment as a Dark Forest trainee drives him to join Darktail's cult, Nightcloud's life begins to turn around after her mateship with Crowfeather crumbles. After participating in a secret plan to rescue her boy and several Kin members under the command of her future leader and son-in-law, Harespring, she is solidified as one of the most powerful fighters in the entire Clan and occupies a lofty position as one of its most reliable brawlers.

She's also developing a friendship with Willowclaw about it, which is neat.

Glossary

Upbringing

WindClan Civil War

Mateship & Abuse

Breezepelt and BB!AVoS

Trivia and Misc

Upbringing

The Mothermouth Moorland War came to a cruel and bloody quietus at the claws of Brokenstar's ShadowClan, ending a three-generation long conflict with an event called the WindClan Massacre. Along with the rest of their Clan, a pair of twins was forced into exile; Downwind and Hillrunner.

They looked out for each other, and ferociously protected the tattered Clan while living in the Tangle of Thunderpaths. It was hard, but they had each other and that was enough.

After Bluestar's champion, Fireheart, fetched WindClan to bring them home, Downwind soon gave birth to her first litter. A pair of sisters; one of them practically a little copy of her mother... and the other one who looked hilariously nothing like anyone in their family. The twin girls were named Nightkit, and Tawnykit.

They'd barely settled in before Nightstar and Crookedstar turned on them, attacking to try and drive them out AGAIN. If it wasn't for Bluestar and her reinforcements, ThunderClan's charity, they might have succeeded.

But this time, Downwind refused to run. Hillrunner saw her twin, limp, red, and ragged outside the nursery. The kits were too young to remember her, or to understand the significance of their new Mi's anguished cries that night. They came so far together, only for Hillrunner to lose her other half in the place where things were supposed to get better.

NOTE: On adopting the kits, Hillrunner is then considered their "Mi," a primary parent in Clan culture. Her biological relation as the aunt is superseded.

Nightkit and Tawnykit only knew Hillrunner as their Mi. They only know that Downwind was identical to her-- except for a scar across Hiller's nose.

Hillrunner was notoriously short tempered, paranoid, and easily offended. She shouldn't have been raising kits alone, but what choice did she have?

She was CONVINCED that she'd failed Downwind that day, and that something could have been done to avoid the WindClan Massacre. So she was dedicated to making sure her own kits were better prepared.

They knew the whole territory by heart by their 6th moon, and even major abandoned tunnels below the moor

Most apprentices don't learn how to differentiate individual warriors out of scent marks until a moon or two into training. Night and Tawny knew it before they became 'paws.

Ever trying to ask a question, or tell Hillrunner that they didn't want to do something, was "backtalk;" argue too much and she would hit them with a punishment.

Punishments, "lessons," were usually strenuous physical tasks, like doing laps, moving large objects, or being made to carry a stone in the mouth for hours.

The sort of thing, in hindsight, was probably meant to be a sort of "cover"... the Clan thought the 'Lessons' were harsh but 'understandable'. No one would step in.

If Hillrunner was angry though, she would also just straightup smack them. She was less creative when she was in a mood.

As an adult, Nightcloud will tell you how messed up it used to be... but sometimes she preferred when Hillrunner was moody. If she got hit, the creative "lesson" wouldn't be applied to Tawnykit too.

Because Nightkit got in trouble more often than Tawnykit, there was a sort of sour resentment between them, mixed in with the unbreakable sense of solidarity.

Tawnykit: "You got US in trouble. But no one else in the world knows what we're going through. I love you. I'm going to take this out on you when we're alone. I can't believe you did this to me, I can't believe our Mi did this to us. Can't you try harder?? We did nothing wrong. Why am I paying for YOUR mistakes?"

Hillrunner says she, "Just wants you to be safe. ShadowClan won't hit you with their claws sheathed! This is what real life is like! If you'd just LISTEN to me you'd know this is for your own good!"

The little family was "close," in the way that mice tied together at the tail are close, even as they desperately pull at the knot and gnaw at each other's flesh.

Hillrunner convinced them the world was terrifying, that they couldn't entirely rely on their clanmates, and the most important thing in life is Gan, blood-family.

"The ONLY ones who will turn out for you, who you can rely on, who will be there until the end, is your family. The only way you'll lose us is if you're not strong enough, and I'll make you strong. I promised. You'll see!"

When she finally became Nightpaw, Hillrunner continued to try and have control over her... but the new mentor, Addersong, would not be bullied. And he would not let his apprentice get pushed around either.

He taught Nightpaw that now that she was an apprentice, she was free to make her own choices.

If she needed him around when she confronted Hillrunner, he would be there.

And if she needed to be the one to do that alone, he would support that too.

But on one condition; he would never tolerate someone speaking down to his apprentice in front of him. THAT is a matter of his pride. Capiche?

That was a term she could handle.

She had always known that she didn't want to be like Hillrunner, and that one day she'd be free of all the torment she was put through, but Addersong was the one who showed her the way out. Protected her when others didn't.

It gave her a sense of newfound confidence, and freedom. Like maybe the world WASN'T so terrible after all. And maybe... there's people out here who are kinder and more loving than she was ever allowed to believe.

And then, Hillrunner died in a TigerClan attack

And she began to wonder if it was HER fault when Tawnyfur fell to BloodClan

And suddenly Addersong's lessons felt far away. And maybe that was a good thing.

Hillrunner tried to teach her that family, KIN, was the most important thing in the world, and Nightcloud began to reject that. And now they are all dead.

She didn't appreciate them enough while they were alive. And now they are gone.

So... she pushed Addersong away. He figured she needed space to mourn.

WindClan Civil War

While Addersong was composing Tiger's In A Heap with his buddies and others were baking Tiger-shaped tunnelbuddies to welcome relations with BloodClan, Nightcloud was joining the group that was critical of the decision.

Especially when Snapper and Leo-- sorry. They call themselves Snappaw and Brushpaw. When those two joined the Clan. Ex-BloodClan traders. Not to mention Pigeonflight's... charge, also acquired from BloodClan

Nightcloud felt like she was the only one who remembered that they fought BloodClan. That Clan cats died in that battle.

Until she found others, echoing the same feelings she did, and more.

Mudclaw was the most legitimate member of the group, organizing this group of cats with "concerns."

Those "concerns" started having weight when things began to sour in the Moor. The poisoning, the Mothermouth's collapse and the death of Barkface and his apprentice, Blackfur... eventually a warrior, Runningbrook, was SHOT by a human as if she was a grouse.

Someone called the two apprentices "jinxes," pointing out the bad luck they'd brought to them, and it stuck.

But Tallstar did nothing. Didn't listen to the concerns, and insisted that Snapper and L-- Snappaw and Brushpaw, that they were part of the Clan now.

Eventually they were all forced out of their home, and sent on a journey following Crowfoot and the other Chosen cats to a new land. Tallstar just continued to look weaker and weaker.

All around Nightcloud (and the cats who would eventually become the Rebels), the Journey was uniting the Clans in a way that was never seen before. Apprentices were trying out ancient recipes that had been untouched for generations. Warriors from WindClan were helping to carry kits from ShadowClan.

It was terrifying. It felt WRONG. It filled her with a sense of deep dread and unease. No one was enforcing the boundaries that made the four groups into Clans.

When they arrived at the lake, what would HAPPEN there? Would there even BE a WindClan? Or would they just get lured into forming the new TigerClan?

Through all of this... Mudclaw seemed strong, and sure of what needed to happen next. He was certainly more of a leader than the feeble Tallstar, who had allowed the jinxes to follow along on the Great Journey.

So when Tallstar was allegedly on his deathbed, and mysteriously swapped his deputy to Onewhisker, Nightcloud was one of the very first to call foul play.

It felt like an awful betrayal, to know that Firestar, one of the FEW cats outside of WindClan that Hillrunner spoke fondly of, could be trying to pull the wool over their eyes.

But just LOOK at the other witness-- Brambleclaw. Son of Tigerstar. This was a PLOT, and Onewhisker should be ashamed of himself!

Mudclaw jumped at the opportunity Nightcloud presented.

But... the newly honored Crowfeather came forth too, to calm the tension.

"Brambleclaw is a LOT of things and untrustworthy isn't one of them," Yet, he put up a smokey-black paw when his friend's eyes lit up, "But a change in deputy? To Onewhisker, of all cats?"

Onewhisker: "no offense, right? ...right?"

"So if no one here is lying, then Tallstar's brain fell out on the way here and I'm not going on ANOTHER journey to look for it. Mudclaw is the rightful leader of WindClan."

His endorsement of Mudclaw sent the Clan reeling. His own mother, Ashfoot, came forth to argue against her son, and his aunt Morningflower pointed out that Mudclaw was his mentor.

OF COURSE the two jinxes also argued in favor of Onewhisker. Leo had even joined in the first place because he wanted to be with him.

The compromise that the Clans reached, at ThunderClan's treacherous suggestion, was that they would wait until StarClan could sort the matter out and confirm the rightful leader.

But of COURSE ThunderClan felt like they could wait for StarClan. THEY had two Clerics, Leafstripe and Cinderpelt.

In the meanwhile, the Clan started to split in two. Those who were backing the feeble Onewhisker, and those who were supporting the powerful, charismatic Mudclaw.

Nightcloud refused to allow her Clan to fall into the claws of ThunderClan's ambition. WindClan could not be allowed to be seen as WEAK. Weakness invites invasions. Invasion invites death.

Not everyone that joined Mudclaw's side of the rebellion believed that ThunderClan was lying. Crowfeather believed it was the truth. Mudclaw himself did as well, though he didn't discourage beliefs that benefited him.

Nightcloud absolutely did believe that ThunderClan lied. And that cats outside of the Clan can't be trusted.

...and then.

Mudclaw started working with non-WindClan cats, namely Hawkfrost. The rebels were joined by reinforcements, given quiet support and aid, handed the knowledge that they would have extra backup if things got violent.

At first, Nightcloud was one of the most vehemently opposed to them.

At first.

But... Hawkfrost has some good points about all of the Clans needing to be strong and independent.

And he's right, that; "ThunderClan's plotting won't stop with one Clan. Tigerstar came from ThunderClan, after all."

And, if things go wrong... they will need the extra claws. They couldn't fight against the remainers alone.

"Hold on, who says we'll be fighting anything?"

Wide, innocent blue eyes, "You can't believe that ThunderClan will just let the word of StarClan shine through, can you?"

He's... reasonable. He's right.

So, in the BLINK of an eye, she and Crowfeather were surrounded by Thistle Law supporters. OPEN ones.

And Mudclaw himself didn't seem to mind all that much.

For Nightcloud, it was too late to have doubts, especially when Hawkfrost's lie made such perfect sense. When the Moonpool was discovered by that THUNDERCLAN Cleric, Leafstripe, Honored by the new name Leafpool, that was the last push she needed to ride into battle with Mudclaw.

ThunderClan had to be stopped at ALL COSTS before they installed a fake, sniveling little mouse to do all of their bidding. If Onewhisker had to die to prevent it?

Then... so be it.

They created a plan. Onewhisker was organizing WindClan to carry out a Muirburn, a carefully controlled fire to return the territory to heathland.

They would sabotage it, and throw him into the same fire meant to cleanse their new home. It would be symbolic, practically religious in its righteousness.

But CROWFEATHER betrayed them. Bolted to his friends in ThunderClan, that daughter-of-Firestar and the Tigerkin liar.

During the battle, Nightcloud leapt on Leo and went for a ferocious bite to the back of the neck. She was ripped off by another warrior just in time, taking a chunk of his scruff with her.

It gave him a permanent, gnarly scar. A reminder to Nightcloud of how close she came to killing him, and how much she hated such a kindhearted tom.

The tide of battle turned as the ThunderClan reinforcements came behind Crowfeather. In that instant, it was as if StarClan had torn open the sky, and the heavens were bleeding rain upon the burning moor.

Nightcloud fled along with the other rebels, and bore witness to StarClan's smiting of the false idol.

With a clap of lightning, a tree from the Gathering Island toppled down, crushing Mudclaw beneath it.

She stopped running, staring in breathless awe. The rain washed away the mud and the ash that clung to her pelt, and for the first time in moons, she felt like her mind was clear.

It was like, for a brief moment, the song of fear and anger behind her eyes forgot the lyrics, leaving her with cold reality.

"What have I DONE?"

That sabotaged Muirburn was one of the most short-sighted, cruel, evil things she can imagine any cat taking part in... but at first, her regret was just in the amount of destruction it had caused, not in the ideology she'd fought to defend.

The heinous act had caused the peat below the moor to catch on fire, and WindClan was playing Whack-A-Mole with the various little blazes that kept popping up in the area; and THAT was what initially made her regret her role in the Civil War.

But... she had to work next to Snapstorm and Brushblaze, just like any other Clanmates. Pigeonflight's daughter had also come into her own, Cranberrysplash. And ThunderClan continued to send aid to help with the reckless disaster she'd been part of.

She still grappled with a strong, immediate distrust of strangers... but it was tempered by the sobering realization she had while watching Mudclaw die.

And the shame, knowing that she'd been taking out her grief of losing Tawnyfur and Hillrunner on all these innocent cats.

Onewhisker's lenience... was mercy. All along.

She tried to punish herself for ever criticizing her new leader for "weakness." WindClan needed all the paws it could get to fight the fires and continue to feed the Clan, and Onestar was the cat who understood that.

He showed unfathomable kindness and wisdom by giving her and the other rebels no punishment.

She vowed to atone for it. She would not waste her second chance.

Nightcloud had been so busy trying to make up for what she'd done, fighting fires, building dens, and carefully rotating hunts to manage the prey populations that she barely registered that she didn't see much of Crowfeather after the night of the Muirburn.

While WindClan was gossiping, she was largely left out of the loop for being distrusted at the time.

When he came back, they started spending a lot of time together.

Mateship & Abuse

She liked Crowfeather. They'd been in each other's orbit since the Civil War, and she admired his judgement at nearly every turn. Mudclaw seemed like a good choice for a lot of people, but Crowfeather had seen when his true colors started to show. He made a truly heroic choice at the end. So when he expressed interest in her, it felt like she was going to be his next good call.

Nightcloud had so, so much to prove.

In spite of his absence, Crowfeather was a hero to the Clan. The warrior blessed by StarClan to bring them to their new home, a land of a thousand more stars, he who betrayed the traitors.

And in spite of that. He had a loneliness. He requested a name to honor the cat of another Clan, a lover he had lost on his mission

He is loud, passionate, and yet there seemed to be a niche in his heart he wanted to fill.

So... she wanted to be his missing piece, in service of the great love that binds a Clan together. To help him.

To prove she could mean something to someone, and be trusted in turn by a Clan that, rightfully, looked at her with suspicion.

but she didn't LOVE him so much as she RESPECTED him.

and he never saw her as much more than an in-Clan replacement for Leafpool, especially while he was secretly reeling from her dumping him and cancelling their elopement plans.

It didn't really strike her that they were mutually using each other; Crowfeather to affirm his loyalty to the Clan, and Nightcloud to prove she could love and be loved.

And neither of them were even accomplishing that. But, there's a difference between them.

While Nightcloud was trying, GOD she was trying... Crowfeather quickly grew frustrated that she was a person, and not just the perfect image of the "true love" that Feathertail and Leafpool would have given to him

So he started FINDING things to criticize about her. Reasons that he could use to justify why it's not HIS fault he's not happy, but hers.

She's clingy. She's too cold. She's less attractive when she's carrying their child. She's too demanding when she tells him to help out with the kit.

NOTHING she did was right, and meanwhile, even when Breezekit was young, Crowfeather was an awful Ba.

Depending on his mood, he was either too rough or too distant, a dichotomy he used to describe as Nightcloud being unable to make up her mind. Does she want him to help, or does she want space??

Problem is, you can't be fair with unfair people. When Crowfeather would say ANY of this, she would try to take his words in good faith

And Breezekit's formative moons were spent watching his mother twist herself in knots, trying to avoid whatever his father was complaining about that week.

But it NEVER satisfied him. It never COULD.

and worst of all...

Whenever she DID fight back, dragged down into explosive arguments after biting her tongue again and again, Crowfeather would ALWAYS bring up Feathertail. She's dead, and so Nightcloud could never defeat this ideal, NONEXISTENT image of this nearly perfect hypothetical lover that he could have had.

Crow: "And YOU don't even care. You CUT me, Nightcloud! I am being flayed and left to DIE from infection, and you don't even care."

Night: "Of course i care, I'm here aren't i?? Feathertail loved you, but I do too! And I'M in YOUR Clan, in case you haven't NOTICED."

Crow: "Oh you love me do you? I don't think you do. There's a reason I loved Feathertail enough to be so tempted away from my Clan, but YOU'RE such an awful person that YOU happily did ARSON."

Night: "I... I wasn't-"

Crow: "Wasn't trying to betray your Clan? Wasn't trying to make me feel like some kind of animal?? What WERE you trying to do, then?"

Night: "I've ALWAYS tried to make up for what I did, I was trying to-"

Crow: "To WHAT? To hurt me? Like you always do? All I wanted was you to see that I'm-"

Night: "Can you cut it out?! I wanted-"

Crow: "STOP Interrupting me, this is exactly what I mean! Feathertail NEVER made me feel this way, she would let me finish and listen to everything I have to say before trying to jump in. WHAT have I done wrong exactly? What IS it this time?? Hm???"

Night: "I-- Crowfeather I'm trying! I didn't mean to make you feel that way, and I'm not trying to fight. I just don't know what you want from me, I'm-"

Crow: "I say it over and over and over!! Are you stupid? I should have been with a rabbit, at LEAST it would have given me faster children!"

Night: "Can you stop being a CHILD for a minute and TELL me what you want me to do? In simple terms? Or is that just too much?"

Crow: "Fine. But im not going to repeat myself again. I don't deserve this, you're lucky I'm gracious."

When Breezekit became Breezepaw, Nightcloud had lost patience with this treatment. She still tried to be gentle with Crowfeather, but he was starting to force her into making a choice; Was she going to protect her son? Or was she going to keep endlessly trying to appease her husband?

In her head... SHE might "deserve" it. She knows she's "difficult." And that a lot of the things Crowfeather says about her are "true"

And if she's lonely, she "brought it on herself" by doing awful things. That's why she tries so hard to atone for them.

But Breezepaw is her BABY, and Crowfeather makes him feel like a little brat. Yells at him, finds reasons to pick on him, gives him the cold shoulder when he's done wrong...

At first, it looked like overprotectiveness, because she was often shoving herself between Breezepaw and his father, never backing up Crowfeather when he was punishing their son, and "downplaying" her son's rude behavior.

In reality, those were the actions of someone who was trying to prevent arguments from turning into abuse.

Those were things HILLRUNNER used to do with her, though at the time, she didn't realize that Crowfeather was in the same positions that her Mi had once been in

In fact, she continued to grapple with the deep feelings of shame, that she might be like Hillrunner when she was trying so hard to be different.

But the truth remained, that she recognized the same patterns that she was forced to be hyperaware of, and was trying to stop them before they escalated.

It took MANY years, well into Breezepelt's adulthood, AND well into her divorce, before she realized that.

Protecting her son was as reflexive as a hunting crouch. It was just something she did.

Unfortunately, Crowfeather was the one with power in this situation. And his immense sway was palpable. If he vented to a Clanmate about how hard it was to have a mate who undermines him and a son who defied him, they'd believe him.

So, Breezepelt started getting written off as "a problem kid" by the adults.

What changed... was Hollyleaf's reveal at that fateful Gathering.

She had been desperately trying to "atone" for what she'd done for years, guilty and shameful that she'd been complicit in an attack that had gotten cats killed and set the peat on fire. She kept proving herself, over and over, as Crowfeather held his love for an outsider up over her head.

And then she finds out he was HIDING this from her, ALL THIS TIME. There'd been ANOTHER MOLLY from another Clan she was being compared to.

Unlike canon; Crowfeather knew. He didn't need to be told. Hollyleaf looks just like his father Deadfoot. Lionblaze has his tail tip. Jayfeather is a miserable git.

They were born 2 months after Leafpool left him, choosing her Clan and her CLERIC FRIEND over HIM. He isn't stupid.

Emotions ran high and, right in front of his wife, at a PUBLIC GATHERING, he made another love confession to Leafpool. That she never should have abided her vow because she belonged with HIM.

Leafpool was fucking mortified. On top of her life crumbling as the secret was revealed, she was undergoing the cat equivalent of being cornered in a public space as an unwanted ex begs you to acknowledge your LOVE.

Leafpool is completely and utterly out of love for Crowfeather, not a SINGLE flicker of it left in her heart, but NIGHTCLOUD felt like Leafpool's tears were because she missed Crowfeather soooo much.

And after YEARS of being compared to FEATHERTAIL, only to find out she was being contrasted to LEAFPOOL all along??

And that Crowfeather really WOULD just break the code for any OTHER lover? Even "a treacherous, vow-breaking, abominable little [cat meow censor] FROM ANOTHER CLAN?"

AND A CLERIC?????

YEARS of trying to unlearn bigotry, keeping lessons about unity kept close in spite of the growing tensions between the Clans, having an open mind towards the people she'd unfairly judged, trying to atone for following Mudclaw... What's the point??

She was humiliated, embarrassed, scandalized. For moons she'd tried to appease him, and then he goes after HER SON, and then DOES THIS.

But something was different.

Onestar had enough of Crowfeather and his shenanigans.

By making a fool of himself at that Gathering, he made a fool of the WHOLE Clan.

Not only did he sire kittens with a Cleric, in a half-clan relationship, vanishing for a week to go on a holiday as the Clan was fighting peat fires, but he didn't even have the decency to NOT TELL AN ENTIRE GATHERING THAT HE DOESN'T REGRET IT.

Onestar snapped.

CrowFEATHER is an Honor Title. CrowFOOT was in respect to his deceased father, Deadfoot.

These names are both too honorable.

And even a DISHONOR Title is too good for this sort of behavior.

If he cannot behave like a Clan cat, then he WILL NOT BE ONE.

For one moon, Crow, no suffix, just Crow, would live on his own in total exile.

It was such a scandal that Nightcloud was horrified. The whole Clan had turned to look to her, see what she would do, desperate to know how she was reacting and what she would do next.

But... their tune changed.

They weren't looking at her like Crowfeather's ungrateful mate. They were curious about her judgement.

CrowFEATHER had convinced so many people that Nightcloud had been the problem, with his immense sway and influence.

But what he did was shocking and abhorrent to WindClan. Now he is just Crow, a rogue on the border.

And Nightcloud is as reliable as she always has been.

What really causes Crowfeather to begin to change here in BB, is that when he comes back... nearly everyone has been better off without him.

After a moon, Crow came back thinking that Nightcloud would snarl at him, or they'd fight, or she'd weep, or... something negative.

But instead, she greeted him. Cordially. Casually. With the tiniest little lilt to her tone that you only hear when you're forced to welcome someone you dislike.

For the rest of BB!OotS, they were together but... distantly. If it wasn't totally over, it was visibly dying.

They had a few more fights, public spats, but now that the Clan didn't seem to have Crowfeather's back...

He started to lose his nerve, and she stopped feeling terrible for things that happened long ago.

Now WindClan was following Nightcloud's lead on Crowfeather. When she was gracious, so were they. When she was pushed to snapping, they saw him like the unreasonable one.

But, honestly? That attention made Nightcloud uncomfortable.

She disliked the sway she now seemed to have over her ex-mate's reputation. She hated him and everything he did, especially in the few times that he would STILL try to deflect blame onto her, but... wielding that kind of social sway, after being an outsider for so long, it felt heavy and toxic in her belly.

Between OotS and AVoS, she realized that she's not like him. He reveled in the spotlight and influence he had over the Clan as a result of his power, adored attention and drama and being able to command it. Crowfeather would complain that life was so unfair, but he ENJOYED how the rules were applied so loosely to him, and how well he was treated because of the pain he'd gone through.

She doesn't.

In fact, she even resents the finicky opinions of her Clanmates. That earning their respect, in the end, was something she had absolutely no control over. She'd gone through so much for so long and so very few cats had ever had her back, and to be vindicated now of all times?

It was sour. Not comforting.

If she made any mistakes during OoTS, it was enabling Breezepelt's growing xenophobia in the midst of her own pain and frustration. She didn't KNOW that he was being recruited by the Dark Forest. If she did, she would have done something to try and stop him.

Breezepelt and AVoS

The worst part of it all was that none of this newfound reputation carried over to her opinions about her son. Breezepelt continued to be hated and distrusted because of his role in the Battle of the True Eclipse (BOTTE), where the Dark Forest killed so many warriors. He'd fought until the end of the night.

Of course she was disappointed in him. Of course she knew he'd done something awful. But she had too, so many years ago.

The fact he had also been a victim of Crowfeather's slander was disregarded in the eyes of WindClan, and for his role in the fight, Onestar gave him and his complicit friends Dishonor Titles.

Breezepelt became Dodderheart-- a reference to a parasitic type of bush, native to heathland, which strangle and kill the flowers. Harespring didn't get off without one. Darkseeker had sought his biological father in the Dark Forest, Mudclaw, and then the BOTTE had killed his Mi and biological uncle, Torear.

Nightcloud tried to encourage her son to follow Darkseeker's lead in seeking atonement, but he had decided that this meant; "My own mother had taken HIS side, that damn traitor who threw me under the boar so that he could save his own reputation, distancing himself from THE REST OF US so that he can climb the ranks! WELL!"

When The Kin arrived at the lake, lead by the mysterious Darktail, Nightcloud was powerless as the pied piper called forth cats of many Clans.

He appealed to everyone who felt alienated. Every HalfClan cat still dealing with stigma, every young warrior frustrated by the dogged separation of the Clans... and, especially, to all of the Dark Forest trainees who still lived.

It was a trap, and Breezepelt was drawn to it.

As the situation got worse and worse, Nightcloud could only watch from afar as Onestar responded with furious embargoes, aggression, and fury towards any type of contact with Darktail's cats.

Along with Brushblaze and Harespring, now deputy and having shed his Dishonor Title, she plotted ways to undermine Onestar's strict orders and try to reach her son.

And.... Crowfeather, too.

To her surprise, he wanted to help.

The irony was overwhelming. Yes Breezepelt, or Dodderheart, damn Onestar's pernicious name, YES he had been making his own choices for a long time, but Crowfeather knew full well who had set him on this path.

In spite of how he'd try to deflect the blame for seasons on seasons.

Hedgehogs took flight that day, because his response was, "You think I don't know that? ...that's why I'm here."

Someone else might have wanted to shove that back in his face, drink in every drop of smugness they'd earned, tell Harespring to kick him from the help efforts for causing so much pain in the first place..

...But Nightcloud isn't like that someone else.

Breezepelt was what mattered to her. Anyone who was going to help was another alibi, another mouth to carry herbs, another set of claws to fight by their side.

...is that what working with others really means, at its core?

Maybe it's not love that truly binds us, but a sense of duty. The commitments we make to each other, and the honor to keep them.

She loves her son. And by extension, she loves Heathertail and Harespring who love him.

But her Clanmates... she doesn't love them. Or Crowfeather.

And Crowfeather wasn't here out of love for her. Maybe not even love for Breezepelt as a person. He was here for honor. Repentence. To right a wrong.

Whatever reason he was here; it still meant he was HERE. To help.

In that moment, she thinks back to the words of Hillrunner. That only blood-family would ever turn out for you, and strength was what allowed you to keep them.

Looking over to Brushblaze, thinking to her Clanmates, she finally had the wisdom to see the words for what they were

It was the scared, broken philosophy of a molly who had lost everything a hundred times over, clinging to something that made sense, trying to scare her kits into never leaving her side.

Nightcloud was truly unlike her. Surrounded by allies of all kinds, united in their goal to rescue her son and other Kin captives and victims.

She was entitled to her reasonable distrust, but not held back by it. She never would forgive Crowfeather, but they could work together. For Breezepelt.

Hillrunner wasn't completely wrong about strength. It was an asset.

But so is faith.

After they'd brought Breezepelt home along with many others, bedraggled and shaken by their experiences, Nightcloud was absolutely shocked by how graciously Onestar seemed to be towards them.

She didn't question it at the time, but when Onestar spent his final life stealing a plan Breezepelt admitted was his own, to sacrifice himself drowning Darktail, it suddenly made sense.

After Harestar took power, she had cemented herself as one of his favorite warriors. A powerful, loyal brawler, who was willing to do anything under his command. Breezepelt had accepted at this point that he was never going to have a position of power due to his past; and that was okay.

She spent a lot of time with the grandkits Breezepelt eventually had with his mates, Harestar and Heathertail. For the first time in a long time, she's finally at peace with the family she's acquired.

Trivia and Misc

I'm tempted to swap Crowfeather and Nightcloud as deputy. I feel like Nightcloud makes a very interesting one.

At the same time though, I do like the drama of Crowstar and Squirrelstar as opposing leaders, so I'm still unsure.

For some reason whenever I think of Nightcloud, I think of ABBA songs lmao. Thank You For The Music, or maybe Knowing Me Knowing You.

As you can see, I split up Crowfeather's Trial and shuffled it around. I feel like for most of OotS, Nightcloud and Crowfeather are doing nothing but arguing and the development feels incredibly rushed because it's all in an SE, so I've pushed a major event back.

They also never actually describe their verbal arguments; so I'm using them to make my take on Crowfeather more clear. He's emotionally abusive.

Something that I often feel isn't done enough is abusers who are popular, and also funny. How devastating it feels for someone you love to mock you in public, and then a bunch of people laugh because "you deserve it."

Or just see you as the aggressor by default

Knowing you can't do shit about it because they're just more loved than you. Their word vs yours.

(especially when paired with trauma that makes you forget major details so you can't even recall any examples in the moment, so you just get painted as clingy and whiny)

All that said, there's a ton of abusive cats in BB, most of them never improve or get better, but Crowfeather will.

And from Nightcloud's perspective, that's a good thing. And I want to capture that deeply bittersweet feeling.

She's happy he's not so terrible anymore... but god, it doesn't undo any of the AWFUL things he did and said to her.

Anyway, I really want to fit Nightcloud's buddy Pickle in somehow, but I'm still working it out. Pickle was such a cute character

Hillrunner and Downwind are repurposed Missing Kits! WindClan is ridiculously tiny so I had to stretch it pretty thin.

I don't see a ton of Nightcloud origin stories, so the one I figured made the most sense was picking up on the observation others have made about her "coddling" behavior

In-canon, because Crowfeather is abusive to his kid, it suddenly implies that a major reason why Nightcloud is so protective of Breezepaw in arguments is because she's trying to prevent it from escalating into abuse.

Eventually I'd like to build out some more friends, and expand on her budding friendship with Brushblaze. Not to mention Willowclaw.

Maybe I should repurpose Crowfeather's Trial into an SE about Nightcloud... Nightcloud's Thaw, maybe. Something about a change that's a long time coming, so I can show her new backstory and how she reacts to all the changes in WindClan towards her reputation.

And that's Nightcloud! I think she deserves an AU where she gets to be a more fleshed out supporting character, as a treat <3

[acourtofmoonlightandstars]

Find me - Chapter 3

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: At a ball you meet the one person you thought you would never see again, you left him once. Will you leave him again?

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Violence, I guess?

Note: We have some new friendships and some good old Rhysand and inner circle slander, høhø. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list.

Chapter 2

You jumped from the balcony, not caring about the height you’d had to fall to reach the garden beneath. You were still in your nightgown but you didn’t care. There was no way you weren’t leaving right away. 

There was nothing to do except sprint towards the staples, you might have a mate with wings, but since you yourself didn’t have any, they would have to be borrowed elsewhere. 

You ran on bare feet, not even noticing the cuts the rocks beneath your feet caused. Nothing mattered, nothing except this, except him. 

Luna was in her stable, dark and strong as always. The fairy lights shone on her blank feathers and reflected the light. Your father had gifted you the pegasus because he thought she matched your eyes. And the two of you had instantly bonded. 

You quickly slid into your riding pants and their matching leather boots, all meant to keep you safe and warm in the high altitude. 

“Hey girl, are you ready for a trip to Night?” you whispered into the neck of Luna, you twisted some of her mane around your finger as she gently pushed your hip. It was almost as if she asked you to hurry up and get going. 

You chuckled, and the shadow that had manifested in your skin came back to life and slid up her mane and rested between her ears. It looked like she was suddenly wearing a crown of shadows, and it made her look even more majestic than she already did. 

Luna stretched out her wings and made room for you to climb up her back, and just as you set off into the night, Lucien came crashing into the stable, only to see you disappear up into the sky.

Azriel had never really gotten up after the meeting in Rhy’s office earlier that day. He had stayed in that spot on the couch. As usual no one really seemed to notice. When the meeting had ended they all scattered to find out information about his so-called condition, no one stayed behind to check in, to hug him as he cried. 

He clawed at his chest again. She would’ve, she would’ve stayed. He kept repeating the thought as a mantra. 

It was dark out when the High Lord once again joined him in the office. “Az, what are you…” he started, but was quickly interrupted. 

“Let me go, let me go get Elain” he asked. “I need to feel like I’m doing something…” 

Rhysand sighed as he sat down on his large chair behind his desk. “You are doing something, your shadows are doing more than any of us ever could.” he rested his cheek in his hand as he looked at his brother. 

Azriel only shook his head. “I don’t care, and honestly Rhys, I’m going with or without your permission” his eyes were cold, in a way that was only ever directed at his victims, the people he tortured, never had he ever looked at anyone from his family with eyes like that. 

Rhysand sat up in his chair, face folded in his neat mask with that feline smile of a cover for his true emotions. Azriel rolled his eyes at his behavior. 

“So, this is how it’s gonna be, huh?” he asked as he let his power roam through the room. It was enough to make the fiercest warrior afraid, but Azriel wasn’t just anybody. 

“Yes” he answered as he stood up. The High Lord of Night’s eyes darkened. “You’re in no position to leave, you're broken, bruised and you’re definitely not thinking straight” Rhysand stood from his chair, palms placed at the cool mahogany surface. He let some more of his power free. 

“Just because you were willing to let Feyra go, just because Cassian refused to tell Nesta the truth about who they were to each other, doesn't mean I want to do the same brother.” he spit out the last word as he felt his shadows dance around him in a protective manner. “Let’s be honest, the two of you were cowards, too afraid of them refusing you to even try to fight for them, for their love. I have no intention of doing that. I have always been rejected and refused, but not with her, at least not yet. And if she were to refuse me I’d rather have that happen sooner rather than later” 

“That’s not fair, they both did what they thought was best for us” Feyra said from the door opening with Nyx in her arms, but Azriel only shrugged. 

“Have you ever stopped to think that this might all be a trick?” Rhysand asked. “That you’re being manipulated by someone to leave Valaris? That an attack could be coming? If you leave our first defense, your spies, will leave with you and we will be vulnerable” 

He had to admit that his High Lord was making a good point. But he should also know that Azriel would never leave Valaris unprotected. “Fine, I’ll leave a few stationed by the borders to inform you if they catch an intruder. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really wanna get going” 

And with that he stepped through a shadow, leaving his High Lord and Lady alone in the study. Rhysand couldn’t help but wonder if he was well on his way to make an enemy of the Shadowsinger, and if that were the case, he was scared of what that might mean for not only his court, but his family. 

“What do you mean she left?! I thought you said she was so weak that she could barely walk?!” Azriel heard the High Lord of Day yell through the halls. His voice bounced on the walls, and he could feel the almost scolding power that he radiated, despite being no way near him. Helion's voice was sad, heartbroken and worried. It was new for him to catch the High Lord in a position like that. It seemed that these two usually powerful men were both in a vulnerable state. 

“Someones here” Elain said, as she laid a hand on her mates beating heart. Lucien quickly turned towards the hall where Azriel’s shadows had taken him, he quickly put himself in front of his mate, as he lit both the fire and the light that was hidden away in his veins. 

As Azriel stepped into the light, none of the three high fae spoke. He looked like a shell of the person that Elain had seen just the night before, there hadn’t even gone a day, what had happened to her friend? She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. 

The shadowsinger couldn’t help but smirk, but it never reached his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by, but I need your help Elaine”. It only took a few steps for Lucien to get in front of the Spymaster. His hand rested on the back of his neck, checking his temperature. His hands slid up his cheeks and forced him to meet his eyes as they scanned him for any kind of injury. 

“I’m fine Luce'' he said as he brushed away his hands. The most amazing thing that had come from Azriel's previous crush on the Archeron sister was the friendship with the Vanserra. The two men had learned to understand each other on a level no other could. And in the last decade Lucien and Elaine had become the people Az would always turn to. 

None of them really showed the rest of their inner circle the bond that they shared. Elain had always said it would be too dangerous, never really specifying why. So they met up in other courts, snuck away at balls to drink and laugh with one another. 

Elaine was by Azriels side in a second, taking his arms in hers, and it was almost like he collapsed in the pair's arms. Like if he came home and his body finally allowed itself to relax. His knees gave after and he broke down. He didn't even have the energy to hold his wings off the ground. The state of the Illyrian even worried Helion as he called out for his soldiers to fetch him a healer, that was despite the fact that he seemed to have enough worries of his own. 

“Az, what the hell happened to you?” Elaine said as he brushed his curls from his forehead, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. He just stared at his hands. A few seconds later, he passed out from exhaustion. 

You rode all night, desperate to be in the Night Court as soon as daylight hit the territory of one of the oldest allies of her fathers. Helion had always respected Rhysand, always adored Feyra and thirsted after your own mate and his best friends. 

A fire ran through your body at the mere thought of some other person's hands on his body. It was weird, because the bond hadn’t snapped yet, but you still knew that he belonged to you, and the possessiveness was already clouding your mind. You couldn’t help the chuckle. 

Shortly after you had crossed the border you landed on a hillside outside what you assumed to be Valaris, you would wait here, for anyone of the so-called innercircle to come find you. No need to make them worry, they were warriors after all. 

It didn’t take long before you saw the High Lord and Lady winnow a few hundred meters away from you. Shortly after followed the Morrigan, Cassian, Nesta and Amren. But no Azriel. You felt how your heart contacted, how the disappointment sept through your body. Why wasn’t he here? Did he know you were coming and had decided he wanted nothing to do with you? 

“Couldron boil me, that’s a fucking black pegasus” you heard Nesta breathe out in chock. You smiled at her, and she took a step towards you, mesmerized by the creature, but was quickly stopped by her mate. 

A second later you felt as both Rhysand and Feyra tried gaining access to your mind. Your walls of black obsidian, as dark as your eyes kept them out, and it didn’t take long for them to realize there was no way in. 

“Who are you?” Rhysand yelled out towards you. 

“I’m Y/N, emissary from Day” you spoke clearly, tried your best to seem as confident as possible as you were stared down by all of them, your mates' chosen family. 

“How come we’ve never met you then?” Feyra then said, Rhysand was slowly walking closer to you as he assessed you, your stance and Luna too. 

“I’ve spent the majority of my time in Autumn ever since Eris took over, and as far as I know, you aren’t that close with the Vanserras” you felt how the fire in your veins wanted to make them known as you spoke of your other home court, but you kept it hidden. Your father had kept your identity a secret for a reason after all. 

“Only an idiot would willingly spend time with that snake Eris” Cassian said as he crossed your arms. You couldn’t help but look at Mor who to most people was as poised as ever, but you saw how her shoulders shrunk by the mention of your oldest brother. Lucien had told you of how she had decided to keep the truth of her run-in with Eris a secret, and not defend him. Not calling her out, took every bit of willpower you had stored in your body. 

Instead you rolled your eyes, as you had learned your brothers often did when the matter of that day centuries ago was brought up. Mor seemed to recognize the gesture but kept it to herself. 

“None of that really explains why you’re here girl” Amren said with a cold, almost indifferent tone. 

You sighed as you pulled off your riding gloves. “I’m here to seek out your Shadowsinger, High Lord and Lady” you might be better off with fake formalities you thought. 

Rhysands eyes darkened instantly. “And tell me, what is it exactly you want with my Spymaster?” it all seemed like too much of a coincidence to the pair. 

Be careful… Worried… Angry… Afraid. 

The shadow that had accompanied from Day, had at some point managed to slither up your neck and now sat close to your ear and whispered information to you about the people who stood before you. 

It was impossible for you to hold back the smirk that painted your lips. Azriel might not be here, but his shadow was helping you, and it made you feel safe. 

You shrugged. “I have some information for him,” you said. The answer didn’t seem to please Rhysand, and you felt that insane amount of power radiate from him. 

“As far as I know, Azriel is my spymaster, he reports to me. So whatever information you have for him, you can tell me” Rhysand smirked, but his eyes were dark, cold. He seemed on edge, as if he had expected something to happen soon, as if he expected an attack. 

You smiled at him, tried to seem as gentle and non threatening as possible. And then you shook your head and Rhysands smile faltered. “No, this only concerns him, no one else” 

“You’ve trespassed into our court, you seek out one of the most powerful people in all of Prythia and you refuse to tell me why. What exactly do you expect me to do?” He said as he flicked off a piece of lint from his sleeve. No doubt a coping mechanism to seem somewhat indifferent. It didn’t work on you. 

“I expect you to welcome me like you would any other emissary, and something tells me this isn’t the usual welcome wagon” You catch eyes with Nesta as she smirks at your comment. Elaine had always told you that she had a problem with their brother-in-law. 

“You’ve chosen to come at a bad time, and apart from that Helion usually informs me of the emissaries he sends our way, he hasn’t this time. So maybe you’re just one of Eris’s whores, coming here to see if you could seduce the only unmated man in my innercircle to get information” 

Rhysand looked to a few of Azriel’s shadows that stood close by. “Grab her and take her to the dungeons” he ordered, and the shadows rushed towards you. But just like on the balcony these shadows stopped a few feet from you, and when your little friend revealed itself from its hiding place in your hair, Azriel’s shadows rushed up to join it on your shoulders. 

They were filled with excitement as they kept chanting mate, over and over as they took turns to shower you with compliments. You giggled at them, despite the danger you knew stood before you. Your first little friend gave you a peck on the cheek and left you with its friends, slithering away to find its master and tell him to hurry home. 

“Is she a shadowsinger?” Mor said as she took a step forward. The surprise was easy to read on all their faces. Nesta leaned into Cassian with a knowing smirk as she gave you a small nod. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble, please believe that” You said as the shadows calmed and rested in your hair, on your shoulders, up your arms and down your legs. They provided you with an extra layer of protection. 

“Let the shadows go” Feyra ordered, as wings grew from her back. It was an incredible sight to see her shape shift before you. 

“I’m not their master, they go where he orders them to, I'd imagine” you answered, but Rhysand seemed to be filled with your excuses, and sent out a wave of pure power aimed directly at you. 

You heard Nesta scream “NO!” as he did, a reaction that earned her a look from the High Lord. The shadows took the blow, which made you wince on their behalf. You had no idea if they were conscious beings, if they could feel pain. You hope they couldn’t. 

Feyra helped her mate in his attack, sending light your way that never hit its target and fire that never burned your skin. Her frustrations were clear to see for all, personally you couldn’t help the smirk on your lips. 

And then you raised a hand and all light that surrounded the inner circle disappeared, leaving all but Nesta in complete and utter darkness. 

“Did that witch just blind me?!” Cassian yelled out. As he tried desperately to get to his mate. Nesta just rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand, she did however have a subtle smile on her lips. 

“I just wanna talk to Azriel, please… Just tell me where he is” you felt how your voice threatened to break. 

“He’s not here Lightstealer” Amren said with a calm and collected voice. “He’s in another court, and I’m guessing none of us plan to tell you which before you give us our sight back” The small woman crossed her arms as she shot out one of her hips. 

You sank to your knees ready to give up on your quest and let your power go, once again making it possible for them to see. You felt your tears stream silently down your cheeks. The shadows were desperate to calm you, to make you feel better. In that moment you were all they saw, and one second later, something hit you over the head and everything went black.

Taglist: @tele86 @lilah-asteria @photographmymusic

[claraswritings]

curious about the SFW/Dating alphabet for Carm and Luca 👀

Of course… Carmy has already been posted here’s Luca 😅

Anything for dream man Luca 😩

CHEF LUCA SFW DATING HEADCANONS

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Oh my god. Luca would be soooo affectionate. Walking? Arm around you. Holding your hand? He squeezes it every so often. Sitting down? He’ll either put a hand on your thigh or he’ll pull your legs into his lap. Orrrr if he can get away with it he’ll pull you to sit between his legs. Standing? Always always next to you. It is IMPOSSIBLE for it not to be obvious he’s with you. He’s sooo affectionate and cute with you.

B = Best friend (What are they like as a friend?)

He’d be the type where if you messaged and said I’ve had a shit day he’d be around with a take out and you’d watch a trashy comedy. He’d do silly things to make you laugh and youd be so close you’d be more like family than friends.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Y.E.S - Luca is always hugging you from behind and picking you up. He likes to give you like that tight squeeze hug, like a proper warm hug. He also likes you to sleep cuddled into his side.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes, he’d wanna settle down with you. He’s obviously a chef so he can cook! He’s a tidy person too and would be quite neat in his personal life I think. Not obsessive about it but he’d make sure his space was tidy. He maybe does the same thing as Carmy and doesn’t have a bookshelf and just stacks them on a table but he’s still tidy.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think you’d both try carry on acting happy as possible before the longest time before it would come to one of you saying ‘I think we need to talk’ and it would come out from there. You’d probably both cry but decide it was for the best. Maybe you’d be friends one day but not for a long time

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s more than happy to commit. He’s tried a short term thing once or twice and it didn’t work. As for marriage, he would propose pretty early on, within the first year. He’s a big “when you know you know” guy and with you he knows. He’d want a quick wedding after the proposal. Luca doesn’t really care about a big fancy wedding and would quite happily elope immediately after the proposal.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

So gentle. Especially emotionally. If you ever opened up about having bad dates etc, Luca would be going out of his way to treat you so well and be the most caring sweet guy to you. I don’t think he’d ever yell or lose it unless it was something major. He had a bit of a chaotic childhood/teen years so he likes the calm.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

OF COURSE. He’s always hugging you. He just loves it. I think he’d also like picking you up for hugs so you can put your legs around him. And he does the like squeeze hug when he first hugs you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I think pretty quickly. He knows pretty much instantly and wants to tell you. I think it would slip out like you’d be doing something and he’d be like “you’re so funny, I love you so much” and then freeze and you’d be like “I love you too”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets a bit jealous but not obsessively so. Like if he sees a person checking you out, he’ll give you a kiss or something without making a scene. Of course if the person makes a move he’ll be like ‘Sorry mate, she’s taken’ and smile hoping the person leaves. He’ll then give you a cuddle and refuse to leave your side even though he knows it’s silly.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

It’s like a slow make out. So sexy and it can either go somewhere or not, he’s happy just laughing with you and kissing you. He likes kissing your lips obviously, kissing your jaw, he loves kissing along your hips and up your thighs before dessert 👀. He loves you kissing along his shoulders and hairline. He finds it so soothing.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think he’d be good with kids if a little shy because he’s not 100% used to being around them. They’d think he was the coolest guy cause to them, he’s a big friendly guy that makes sweets. He’s not 100% set either way on having kids, he’s willing to go with what you want. If you wanna live the DINK life and be the fun aunt and uncle to your friends kids, he’s down but if you wanna have them, he’s open to that too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He usually has to be up early but he’ll leave you cute notes and breakfast. If you’re both off he still gets up early because he’s used to it but he’ll cuddle into you for a bit before he gets up to run you a bubble bath and cook you breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

HEH 👀. Okay again being serious, you’ll go for walks or drives out to explore new parts of the city. Sometimes you’ll go to a show, sometimes for food, sometimes it’s just looking around for something new to do. If you’re at home, youll cosy up and play a cosy game together or maybe he’ll play guitar (headcanon for Luca there) and you’ll maybe write or watch a cute show and just spend time together but not doing the same thing if that makes sense.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think he’d be pretty open off the bat. He’s approachable and friendly and sees sharing experiences as a way to connect with people on a human level. I think with anything more crazy personal he’d mention it whenever it came up.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not at ALL easy to anger. He’s so patient. He likes the quiet focus the kitchen brings himself. Look at how patient and nice he was to Marcus. He’s like that in life too. Softer even still with you. I don’t think he’d ever lose his cool with you unless it was something super extreme.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Luca would remember literally everything. Favourite drink? Yes. What vinyl you want in what colour? Done. Your favourite subject at school even though you left well over a decade ago? Yep. How you described your childhood home? He could describe it back to you. And he is the type that even if he’s heard you tell a story, he’ll still listen as attentively as before incase there’s something else he can remember. To him to be loved is to be seen and he wants to make sure he sees you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite moment is when he he’d planned a date but it had not gone to plan, it had been summer but it had rained, the bakery he’d planned on taking you to had closed last minute and as you were outside, under a cover and he’d just looked at you and apologised for it all going wrong, you’d told him you didn’t care as long as you were with him. He knew there and then he’d marry you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. He’ll always do the kinda hand hold where he has his arm over your shoulder and you reach up to hold his hand. He’d pull you into him and give you kisses. He’d want you to be publicly protective of him too and make it clear he was your and you were his.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Massive massive effort. I believe Luca would show he loves you with quality time and acts of service. He’d make even the simplest date special, for anniversaries he’d go all out - im talking compose menus for you, take you to nice places etc. with gifts he has a list on his phone where if you mention something a few times he adds it and takes pictures of things linked to it so he can get you fun and unique gifts. Even with the everyday he’s thoughtful and will bring you in a extra thing he’s been trying or if he’s been working late he’ll bring you your favourite flowers or drive you somewhere beautiful or run you a bubble bath.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s an Arsenal fan kidding😉. Okay seriously, I would say especially early on in his career, I think he’d be quite self conscious when he knows he’s around people more accomplished than him so I can imagine he’d be a knuckle cracker if he’s uncomfortable. I think he’d also be a massive fidgeter (same)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Right it is my personal headcanon that Luca doesn’t know he’s hot. He’s very clean and presentable most of the time which is important to him especially for work. He definitely knows to care of himself and works out a bit but he doesn’t think of himself as hot. He would be like “I’m okay looking” whilst you would be like ERM HELLO???? Babe??? Do you have a mirror?? Have you seen you??

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He knows he could be fine on his own, he’s been on his own a long time but since he met you and fell for you…he now doesn’t know how he ever lived without you so yes, now he would feel so incomplete without you. He’d take a long time to heal from any break up

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Keeps a box of things from your relationship. Receipt from your first date. (He paid like a gentleman even though you said he didn’t have to), a t shirt you wanted to throw out but he took it because it was what you were wearing when he first met you, a hair band you’d given him when he’d grew his hair slightly longer, and a gummy ring he’d jokingly given you once

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think in general he wouldn’t want someone dismissive of his craft, you don’t have to be a chef yourself. (I think he’d prefer it if you weren’t) but to him he’s worked hard and it was an escape for him and he’s talented. To diminish that wouldn’t work. I don’t think he’d like people who play mind games either, I think he’d be pretty honest and would want the same.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Luca sleeps with ocean waves or rain sounds on. He will always mean to set it on a timer but never does. He finds he goes to sleep so much easier with it there. Eventually you set up a playlist of your favourite sleep sounds podcasts together and sometimes you’ll mess with each other by adding funny ones

[yuri-is-online]

Jade would be VERY pleased about finally having another club member. I would be happy to listen to him info dump while we look at mushrooms and neat nature stuff.

I let this sit in my ask box for too long but I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while and then harveston had to go and drop that one line validating my delusions and you've given me an excuse to post it ha

notes: they/them used for Yuu, violence against animals (a bear), swearing at animals (the same bear), Yuu is unnaturally strong (enough to fight a bear), Yuu is implied to have grown up in a forest/woodsy environment, Jade typical blackmail. Other more serious fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Once upon a time, back when you first arrived in this world, you had been unsure how to feel about NRC. Castles existed back home, sure, but ones like this belonged firmly in illustrations or video games; it felt a but nauseating to walk through your wildest dreams brought to life, even if it was exciting sometimes. It was little wonder to you then that the idea of a Mountain Lover's Club was so appealing.

"Did you hike a lot back home?" Trey has that strange smile on his face that suggests you have made him tense somehow.

"Yes. I practically grew up in the woods." The flow of wind through the branches, the smell of fresh rain on the decomposing earth below, all of it wrapped you in a familiar sense of serenity even if the tree line was completely foreign to you. What are men to rocks and mountains after all? You could make yourself right at home here-

"I still don't think you should join." Trey says with all the air of a man who is certainly not telling you something, but the surprising harsh nod of agreement Riddle gives before injecting himself into the conversation convinces you more than whatever Trey had in mind likely could.

"I'm not entirely certain what they do," Riddle has never forbid you from participating in things since you and his dorm-mates brought him back to his senses," but if you want to hike it might be safer if you did it by yourself, assuming you let one of us know when you are going and when you expect to be back. It wouldn't do to have something that brings you so much joy used against you prefect, none of us want that." But he has always expressed concern when he thinks things to be unsafe, and in this case his argument was something you found yourself agreeing with. Hiking is best done at your own pace anyway, why get a club full of self-centered assholes involved in your me time? Though you did wish now they had been a bit more... specific with their concerns. Maybe outlined some of the club's scheduling, but then they would have needed to ask him and in so doing betrayed your interest.

Which would have been much less embarrassing than how Jade actually found out. Because of course he did, was there ever any doubt he would? ~~~~ There is a creek not far up the mountain path behind your dorm you like to rest at when coming back from your adventures. It's a good place to check over the photos on your camera and enjoy the last few rays of sunlight before returning to whatever mess Grim had made in Ramshackle searching for where you had moved all the tuna cans. Sometimes he joined you, and the two of you would have a little picnic up the path a bit further, but that day had not been one of those days. Nor had the day you met this particular nemesis who is staring you down from just across the creek with such a judgmental glance you would think this was a Sunday brunch and not an afternoon meander through the forest.

"The fuck do you want bitch?" You snarl and the bear indignantly sniffs as if to imply she's better than you. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't realize it was my fault your face is so fucking crooked, thought you were just born that way." She huffs again, making a big show of turning her back on you as you rush to get your equipment off and tucked safely out of reach before the skankiest grizzly you've ever met whips around and charges you shrieking something about "how dare you steal her man!!!!" and blah blah blah "I'll show you, you good for nothing hussy!!!!" as if you could actually understand her and this wasn't a three act play you insisted on writing yourself. You weren't even sure this bear was a girl if you stopped to think about it in between punches, not that you really cared. She huffs and makes a valiant attempt to pin you as you snarl and flash your teeth and beat her right back into the creek laughing at what sounds like pathetic winging about "kids these days!!!" and how rude you are for-

A startled noise pauses your match, as you both turn, harsh glares towards a break in the thicket where a very out of place, very surprised looking man stands, hand infuriatingly poised casually at his chin. His infuriating smirk doesn't unfurl until you growl, deep and low reverberating through your opponent just enough that she decides to leave for the day while you are preoccupied.

"Oya, this is a surprise." Jade doesn't move and you stay firm in the creek, body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he decides to move just a bit closer. "If you were that desperate for a sparring partner, I'm sure Floyd would have obliged, animal abuse is not exactly legal you know?"

"What the fuck are you doing here." You spit before you exit the creek, a flash of something darting through Jade's eyes as his gaze darts between you and your pack on the ground.

"Me? I should be asking that of you. The Mountain Lover's Club had to go through quite an ordeal to get permission to leave the school grounds unsupervised..." His teeth begin to show as you crash down from your high, you hadn't actually thought of whether or not you would need to talk to someone other than a friend about where you were going... surely Riddle would have mentioned something if you did? Or did he not think to ask since he wasn't the adventurous sort? "I can't imagine how the Headmage would react to know his ward had been sneaking out to terrorize the local wildlife."

"Hey Brenda started it!" You snap and Jade looks briefly towards the treeline where a very indignant bear is pursing her lips and inspecting her claws, the very picture of innocence if he does say so himself. "She stole my sandwich while I was taking pictures of the sunset!"

"Maybe you should have had someone there to hold it for you." He laughs, finally moving from his spot towards you and your pack, eyes gleaming with familiarity as he looks over your things. "Perhaps, someone who would be willing to... forget about what he just saw if they accompanied him next time?" It's a threat using what gives you joy against you certainly, and you huff indignantly at it but don't deny his request. Jade is an eel of his word, and his joy at doubling the Mountain Lover's Club membership cannot be contained as he ushers you the rest of the way down the mountain, eager to plan your first expedition together.

Not that he intends to ever delete the pictures he took. Your angry face is just too cute.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 2 ~

Somewhere Between the Pipes:

I know I asked if readers wanted Muir or Gibbo next, but Gibbo's seemed the best option in terms of timeline. This chapter is longer than Trots' and Muir's will possibly be even longer because of more characters being featured. I wanted to include Finlay here, but somehow I couldn't work her into this piece, so hopefully for Addair's chapter.

Part 3:

'DON'T LOOK AT ME!'

Douglas froze as the voice rattled through The Water Tanks. He hadn't heard anything like that. Gibbo, who was usually quiet with a kind soul, was screaming like a banshee.

Fear quickly rose. Douglas' eyes scanned every corner. He couldn't see his friend, yet his voice bounced off every metal pipe. He looked towards the ceiling for any shadows. Glanced between the pipes to make out a shape. Looked at the water for any ripples.

Nothing.

A sudden shiver ran up his spine. He couldn't tell if it was from the unexpected fear towards Gibbo or the North Sea waters he was standing in at waist height. He moved towards the barely breached stairs and onto the catwalk, and was relieved. Until he heard a bang.

'GO AWAY!'

He jolted with a yelp and fell back before quickly regaining his footing. He still couldn't see Gibbo as he began the process of looking in all directions for something. Where the hell was he?

'Gibbo? Gibbo, it's me. It's Douglas.'

A cry carried itself through the water tanks. Then Douglas saw it. A shadow. But it wasn't human. From what he could quickly gather, it looked like a ball. He couldn't hear footsteps. Another bang, followed by more cries confirmed it to be the drill-worker. But that left more questions than answers. Fear turned to worry. Douglas pressed forward, now ignoring the constant pleas from his friend to either leave, stay away, or going on a rant about his time on ships.

Torn pieces of an orange Cadal uniform and leather workboots stopped Douglas in his tracks before he reached the ladder. As he approached, the torch on his helmet reflected something sticking out from the fabric. A broken chain made from imitation gold with a heart-shaped pendant. Somehow, it didn't fall through the bars and into the water. Douglas quickly wrapped the chain around his fingers and took a moment to look it over. He knew who it belonged to.

A sinking feeling washed over him. He knew it was Gibbo's. Of course he knew, but he had to be sure. Removing his glove, he opened the pendant. Inside was a black and white photograph of a young woman dressed in her Sunday Best and her hair tied into a neat bun. Her skin was covered in freckles, and she had a meek smile.

'Please...Don't come in here...'

With a sharp breath, Douglas began to climb.

'Gibbo? We both know I have to get through there.' Silence. 'Come with me, mate. Please? Don't you want to see your ma and little Jackie for New Year?' Silence. 'Okay. I'm coming up. Just stay where you are.'

The silence was deafening. Was this a trap? Was Gibbo going to attack him?

Douglas reached the top with a small groan. The cold bite from wading through the sea was taking its toll. He gave himself a moment to focus by double-checking if the chain was still wrapped around his hand, but that's when he made out the round shadow next to his own.

It was behind him.

'Gib-' Douglas turned, and his face with a smile turned into pure shock.

Sitting in the corner of the darkened section of the floor was a large mass of flesh. At the centre was Gibbo's head. He didn't have arms or legs. They had been engulfed by The Shape. His back hunched, making him look twice the size with the round growths akin to boils sitting on top and trailing down what should be his spine. Instead of legs, there were things Douglas could only compare to crab legs. Only they were small stubs no bigger than his index finger. He counted nine from the angle he had. That explains how he couldn't hear him move and possibly how fast he was.

Gibbo continued to cry. It was a cry of pain and embarrassment. 'I told you-' Tendrils began to drip from the body where his shoulders should have been. Douglas held up his hands in submission. 'TO STAY AWAY!'

Douglas closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. Seconds passed, and then he realised he was still breathing. There was no pain. Slowly opening his eyes, Gibbo had stopped his attack. A single tendril lingered an inch from Douglas' eye. It moved towards his hand, where it gently removed the chain. Douglas watched in silence as his crewmate opened the pendant and stared at the picture with his mouth hanging open. Tears kept flowing, and Gibbo formed a single word.

'Elanor...'

The fog had been lifted. Gibbo's mind filled with memories of his late wife. How it began in hospital and how it ended in hospital. She was gone, but she parted with the greatest gift to him. Jackie. Something that always gave him joy. His son.

A sense of calm washed over the pair. A weight had been lifted from their chests, and it gave Douglas the push to move closer.

'Gibbo?' He twitched at the sound of his name and turned. 'It's alright, Gibbo. It's alright. But we need to get out of here, yeah?'

'...Douglas?'

'I'm here, mate. I'm here.'

'I'm sorry-'

'Don't be. Don't you dare be sorry.'

'...It hurts...'

'I'm sure it does.' Douglas took the risk and held Gibbo's head in his hands. 'Just stay close to me, and we'll go to Accommodation, alright?'

Gibbo nodded with a small groan. His tendril kept a tight grip on the chain, and Douglas wiped the tears from his face. With a nod, the pair got ready to leave.

'Hello?!' Caz's voice echoed. Gibbo scurried back into the shadows, hoping he would merge with the wall because not even his head could fit behind a pipe.

'Fuck sake, Caz...'

'Don't...' Gibbo's eyes widened in fear. 'Please. Don't let him see me.' He wasn't losing himself to The Shape. He just wasn't ready for anyone to look at him. And you couldn't blame the poor sod.

Douglas nodded and moved towards the ladder. 'Caz. Over here.'

The leccy picked up the pace and breathed a sigh of relief to finally finding someone and being out of the water. 'Douglas. Are you alright?'

'Aye. Sorry I didn't wait earlier, but I had to see what was wrong.'

'Nae bother mate. Is anyone else with you?'

A pause. 'Gibbo.'

Caz picked up on Douglas' hesitation to answer, and his tone when he did. 'Is he alright?'

'No. Well- I mean.' That was a good question. Gibbo was here, but what he had become was something no one would wish upon their worst enemy. Even Rennick. 'Look. Just get up here, but don't look at Gibbo.'

'Why?'

'Just do it, Caz. Keep your eyes shut or look the other way.'

'Okay. Okay. Fuck me...' When he reached the top, Caz turned his head to the left and tried his best not to comment on how weird this was. It didn't help that Douglas lingered over him, giving him no room to breathe. Not that his body would shield Gibbo's. 'Are you both going to Accommodation?'

'Eventually. Are you going to find Roy?'

'Aye. Need to make sure the big man is alright.' Keeping his head down, Caz opened the door and moved down the ladder. 'Seya there, lads.'

The pair waited until they heard the exit door open, then close. Then another 10 minutes. Gibbo shuffled out of hiding. 'Thank you,' he said weakly.

'Let's just get out of here, mate.'

Following in the same direction as Caz, Douglas didn't comment on how Gibbo used the tendrils to climb in and around spaces he couldn't fit through anymore. It was heart-breaking to see, especially when he would catch a glimpse of his chain.

The more they climbed, the more natural light hit them. A bittersweet feeling. Finally out of the cold and dark space of the tanks, but Gibbo had nowhere to hide. It scared him to think what the others would do or say when they see him. Douglas could sense the unease, but they both knew their co-workers. Nothing bad was going to happen to him. And if Rennick or Addair kicked up a fuss, then they'd quickly be put in their place. He turned the door and opened it back into Accommodation.

'So, the lifeboats are useless?' Roy sighed. He awkwardly looked between Caz and Trots, as the trio sat in the canteen, all sharing a smoke. 'Now what?'

'We can only rely on Archie,' Trots said.

'What to get us all out of here?'

'No, but he can go and get help whilst Roper reaches out from Marine Control.'

'Roper's smart,' Caz commented in a somewhat relaxed tone and body language. He leaned back in his seat, happy to just be sitting down. 'He'd have done that already-'

Douglas suddenly rushed into the canteen, having heard the men talking. He let out a sigh of relief and chuckled. 'I am so happy to see you three muppets.' He waited for Gibbo, who shuffled his way into the room, his back rubbing against the low ceilings, and unable to look the men in the face.

'Oh Jesus, Gibbo.' Roy shot up from his chair. Caz was glued to his seat, not surprised in the slightest, and Trots, who could sense something strange, looked stunned. 'Are you okay?'

That wasn't the reaction Gibbo expected. The concern from Roy gave him that small moment of bravery to look at him. '...I think so...' He noticed Trots in the corner of his eye and they shared a look. Just like Trots, Gibbo could sense something odd, but neither of them could describe it.

'Good,' Caz' voice echoed with a small chuckle. He used his leg to kick out a chair for Douglas. 'You can help us find a way out of here.'

[emperyans]

Can I request a soulmate!AU with a Clark Kent x reader? Where your soul mates name is on your wrist?

I.

Clark Kent.

It shows up sometime around your twelfth birthday. There’s no warning before it happens- you’re absentmindedly eating breakfast one day when you glance at your wrist and all of sudden it’s there, in neat, slanted writing.

You’re at a loss for how to react at first- hell, this is the name of your soulmate. A few minutes are spent staring in awe at the words on your wrist, before the shock falls away and you’re left feeling a little giddy- you finally know their name.

Every advice column ever written about the matter says not to obsess over it, but your pre-teen self can’t help but fixate on the markings whenever they come into your line of sight.

II.

Clark is not a very widespread first name, you discover. It always ranks around the four-hundred mark in popularity polls, both in North America and the UK.

Despite that, you run into a lot of them. Enough for you to begin to suspect that fate is playing a cruel game- really, how many Clarks can one person meet over the course of their lifetime?

To your dismay, you end up hating every single one of them. Thankfully, none of their last names even resemble Kent.

III.

Clark means scholar.

You wonder if he’s the academic type.

A lot of questioning is done on your part when you’re bored and have nothing better to do. Even more so when you're feeling lonely. Is he tall? What’s his favourite colour? Does he enjoy whole-wheat bread?

When you were a teenager, you had decided he was quite possibly going to be the most perfect person on earth. Your best friend at the time had laughed, telling you that no one was perfect.

You’re older, now. And while you no longer think Clark Kent, whoever he is, would be perfect, you still can’t stop yourself from picturing what he might be like after you have a bad day.

IV.

The first time you encounter it, you’re taking the subway home.

The newspaper is discarded on a scratched up subway seat. The headline is something about Lex Luthor - it always is in Metropolis- but that is not what catches your attention.

It’s under the headline, smudged to ruin by the previous reader's fingers. And yet still discernible enough to make your heart beat faster.

By Clark Kent.

V.

Finding out how to contact the newspaper is easy enough. You cant figure out how to reach him, though, and you wonder what the point of modern technology is if you knew someone’s full name yet still had no way of reaching them.

When you call them, the receptionist tells you that Mr. Kent is out. Leave a message.

You give her a reasonably vague excuse to have him contact you, double checking that she has your name written down correctly. There’s a hint in her voice that tells you she suspects what is going on, but she doesn’t comment on it. You’re infinitely thankful.

VI.

By the time you leave work, there’s a missed call and a voicemail left on your phone. You wait until you get home to listen to it, and it’s a smart idea, because you didn’t know you could get this unreasonably anxious just by hearing someone say your name.

“This is Clark. Uh, Clark Kent. I hope- did I say your name right? Never mind- I was hoping we could meet up?”

He’s stumbling over his words and you can’t help but laugh- at least you’re not the only one completely overcome by nerves.

The voicemail ends with an address and a time to meet up (“ That is, if it’s okay with you-“ ) tomorrow.

You send a text confirming that you’ll be there.

VII.

You’re at the designated meeting place- one of Metropolis’ many parks. How they manage to put them in a city with such high density is beyond you- still, you weren’t here to question their urban planning prowess.

You swear you can feel him before you see him.

The first thing you notice is how tall he is. Very, very tall. He’s dressed in a dark grey suit- carrying a briefcase, clearly having just gotten done with work. It’s not what you imagined- yet somehow, it’s better than anything you’ve ever dreamt up.

He has glasses, you note. They have the effect of making him look impossibly endearing.

You’re not aware you’re gaping at him until he says your name.

“Nice to meet you, Clark.” It’s hard to keep the grin off your face. “You’re saying it right, by the way.” You stick your hand out for a handshake, making sure to angle it so the words on your wrist are visible.

He takes it, a smile playing at his lips. Warmth envelops your hand immediately. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

[octuscle]

I was walking around and noticed a shop I never recognised. I think it was called CHAVTF. Should I go in?

CHAVTF? I can highly recommend it. Great selection of cool gear and competent and very courteous service. Tyler has a good eye for what suits your type. You can really trust him without reservation.

When you enter CHAVTF, it's very busy. All cabins are occupied. And the fellow you suspect is Tyler is obviously very busy. Nevertheless, he asks you how he can help you. You tell him that you were advised to ask for Tyler, that you need advice. "Mate, I'm Tyler. But call me Ty. What's your name, friend?" You reply that your name is Darren. "Daz, that's nice! you're not uh minute early. Can you grab da size xl camouflage tracksuit from storage for da fellow in locker room 4?" You answer "Sure thing" and go into storage. Fuck, how do you know where the warehouse is. But the tracksuits are cool. You'll have to try that one on later, too. You go to locker room 4 and hand the tracksuit through the curtain. Tyler asks you to check out the customers at the cash register. He will mark up the prices of the new stuff for a while.

The store is really running like clockwork today. There must be five or six scallies in line at the register. Sucks when you can't take care of the fellows the way you want to. You would have liked to help one or two of them change. Ty comes over, gives you a fistbump and says you're a lifesaver. Thank you for supporting him. He didn't expect so many customers. But then he says with a grin that you should better not serve here in your silly preppy clothes. You laugh and ask him what he expects when he calls you up from coffee at your parents' house and brings you into the store. Ty asks when your dad started placing value on that sort of thing. The last time you were there for dinner, he was still wearing that sweaty tank top from boxing practice. "Mate, that wasn't Sunday. Sometimes my mother gets her way, too," you reply with a grin. Ty tells you that there's a tracksuit in the social room that a customer has returned. You can put it on. Size S, should fit. Your fat pads are melting. When you put on the tracksuit, you weigh just 110 pounds at 6 feet. Skin, muscles and bones.

The next few hours are a bone-crushing job. The city is full of tourists and since there has just been money from the welfare office, all the chavs are also liquid. No idea how many steps you have walked between the warehouse, the cash register and the changing rooms. But by closing time, you've just managed three or four cigarette breaks. Ty and you take a deep breath as you lock the door at 6:00 pm. While Ty closes the register, you clean up a bit. Fuck, the place looks like a battlefield. And tomorrow you have the early shift. Then it would be cool if you could start with neat shelves and clean dressing rooms.

Ty asks you if you still want to come to the pub for a beer. You decline with thanks. You still have to train a class at your father's boxing school. Next time. Ty gives you your salary and hugs you. "See you tomorrow!" "You bet."

You are quite pleased as you wait for the train. New tracksuit, 120 pounds of extra cash and an afternoon without your parents. Sunday could have gone worse.

Pic found @scallychavlad88

[boxboxlewis]

galex, only four beds, 2k

George said he would book the hotel room himself. Cara was busy, smoothing out the endless administrative details of George’s life, and it wasn’t work travel, anyway—just a little lads’ holiday with Alex, just a stolen slice of time out of time, away from it, in the hot summer weeks when Formula 1 held its collective breath and waited for the season to restart. A spur-of-the-moment thing, after Alex’s plans with Lily fell through. A lark.

Underneath all that was another secret reason for making the booking himself: a sly secret sideways reason. He called the hotel instead of booking online, to make sure they had the kind of room he wanted available. He barely let himself think about the call even as he was making it, most of his attention fiercely directed at the dense weave of the upholstery Carmen had chosen for the sofa he was sitting on. It had a subtle striped pattern, beige on beige.

They were going to Jersey, because neither of them had been, and because Alex suggested it as a joke and then it seemed funnier, somehow, than it should have: the idea of actually going there. “We’re going to lower the median age on the island by about twenty years,” Alex said, the day before they were due to leave, and George, who had looked up “tourist attractions on Jersey” to have in his back pocket in the event of just this sort of cold feet, said “They’ve got these tunnels from WWII, it looks quite neat actually. And you can windsurf.”

Alex raised his eyebrows and said, “All right, eager beaver.” George thought, without meaning to, of the first time he’d had sex with a girl, wanting to like it, for it to be good.

“I’ve got a deal with the Jersey Tourism Board, as it happens,” he said: the less insane part of him. “This trip is actually hashtag spon.” 

Alex laughed, and didn’t suggest cancelling the trip.

They flew from Nice to Nantes, drove a rental car to St Malo, got a ferry to Jersey. “This is very Planes Trains and Automobiles, isn’t it,” grumbled Alex, even though Cara had arranged all the travel, in the end, and George did the driving.

“Oh, sorry, did you want me to teleport us?” George said. “Because I actually left my superpowers back in Brackley.”

“Oh, ‘superpowers’? Bit of a puffed-up nickname for the W14, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sorry, remind me what you drive?”

They were still bickering as they walked into the hotel. It felt, to George, more like family than any of his own family’s carefully meted affection.

“Heya,” he said cheerfully to the concierge, “booking for Russell?”

The concierge typed something and smiled at them. “Ah, Mr Russell. Of course, sir. Let me get you checked in, sir.” Alex’s face was carefully blank, in a way that was very easy to read if you knew Alex at all, but George preferred this old-fashioned kind of service to what you got at more modern places where the staff all pretended to be friends with you. Although he turned down the porter who offered to help with their luggage; they only had backpacks.

Alex gestured at the wallpaper as they exited the lift and walked along the corridor to their room. “Bloody typical of you, Georgie. ‘I’ll pick the hotel,’ he said. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he said. And then you bring us to a place where they probably iron the fucking newspapers in the morning.”

“No, come on,” George said. He found the door to their room and slid the keycard in. The lock clicked satisfyingly and flared green. “It’s all iPads now, innit. They iron the iPads.”

As they walked into the room Alex started laughing, gratifyingly hard, and George basked in how well his iPad joke had landed. Then he clocked what Alex was looking at. The room was nice, spacious, big windows with a view out over the harbour, and—crisp white linens on the beds: all four of them. Four single beds, arrayed in a neat line.

“This is like the fucking orphanage in Madeleine,” Alex said. “Which two do you want, mate?” He was laughing again by the end of the sentence.

“I don’t—this isn’t what I asked for,” George said. What he’d asked for, very specifically, was a nice big room with a sea view and one king bed and no sofa. He picked up the handset on the desk by the window and called the front desk.

“Good afternoon, this is Reception.”

“Yeah, hi, Room 310. Erm, we have a bit of an issue, to say the least. There are four beds in here?”

“Let me just check your booking, sir. Ah, yes. I see you booked by telephone? And there’s a note here that you specifically wanted four beds?”

“No,” George said. He glanced over at Alex, who was definitely listening. “I asked for two beds,” George lied emphatically. 

“I am most sorry for the inconvenience, sir.”

“Well, we just… we’ll need another room, that’s all.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir. It’s the Battle of Flowers this week; everywhere on the island is booked up.”

George dug the hand that wasn’t holding the handset into his pocket and pressed his knuckles into his thigh. “Sorry, the what? The what of what?”

“The Battle of Flowers? It’s—”

“Yeah, I don’t care, actually. I only booked last week, how could I’ve done that if everywhere is so busy?”

“You must have got lucky, sir. Perhaps there was a cancellation.”

George attempted to channel Toto at his most disappointed and scary. “Right. Right. So what are we going to do about this, then?”

“Don’t worry, sir, we’ll get this sorted for you.”

George put the phone back into the cradle. Alex was kicked back on one of the beds, feet dangling off the end. “You know,” he said, “I’m sort of regretting letting you do all the planning for this trip. You did get us return tickets, right? You haven’t signed us up for some sort of murder mystery tour with actual murder?”

“Ha ha,” George said, sitting on the bed next to Alex’s. “Didn’t see you offering to do any planning, did I?”

There was a knock at the door, and they exchanged a look. “This better be a complimentary fruit basket and bottle of champagne,” George muttered, and went to answer it. Two hotel porters came in: not bearing gifts.

“Hello, gentlemen,” one of them said. “Sorry about this mix-up. Right.” He gestured at his colleague, who nodded. Each porter seized a bed and with great stamping and flipping and manoeuvring got it wheeled out of the room into the corridor. 

One of the porters stepped back in and touched the brim of his cap. “There we go, sir. Won’t happen again. Thank you for your patience, sir.” He stood looking at George, who looked back at him.

Eventually George said “Thank you,” sternly, so as to show he wasn’t the sort of person to stand for four beds in his hotel room.

The porter touched the brim of his cap again, and left.

“He wanted you to tip him,” Alex said, voice lazy. He hadn’t left the bed he’d chosen.

“Tip him?!”

“Mm. People tend to like that. Being tipped.”

George sat back down on the bed next to Alex’s. If he reached his arm out he’d touch Alex’s mattress. “Well, that’s rubbish, isn’t it. I’m not going to tip them for messing up.”

“The porters didn’t mess up,” Alex said. It was something he did sometimes, arguing a point just because he could, just to be a shit. George shouldn’t have found it attractive. He didn’t reply, and after a while Alex started laughing and said, “You do realise that, thanks to your phone call, we’ve now got one measly single bed each.”

“We could push them together,” George said, voice casual, as if it didn’t matter. “We could make one big bed. And then we’d both have more room.”

He watched Alex’s foot flex where it was dangling over the end of the bed. Up, down. Up, down. “Yeah, go on then. All right.”

It was harder to move the beds than the porters had made it look, but eventually they managed it, slotting the frames next to each other landscape-style, because they agreed that was likely to be more stable than having them next to each other lengthways. Then they went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. The food was heavy, French but French through a time machine.

“God, I bet this was the height of fashion in the seventies,” Alex said, poking at his terrine. “The next time I suggest a holiday destination ironically, just whack me on the head, thanks.”

“I think it’s nice,” George said, and Alex snorted. 

“You would.”

George gave him a look that said, he hoped, I’m not flicking a pea at you right now, but only because this is a quite a nice restaurant even though you’re being a dick about it.

Alex flickered his tongue out, and grinned at whatever George’s face did in response.

They went for a walk along the seafront after their meal. “Come on, this is nice, isn’t it?” George said.

“Eh.” Alex scuffed his foot in the sand. “It’s all right, I guess.” He knocked his shoulder into George’s. “Glad this one worked out, you know. After…”

It took George a second to realise Alex was talking about the holiday they’d planned together that Alex had bailed on because he met Lily. He laughed, too loudly. “No worries, mate, all good,” he said. He thought about asking how things were going with Lily, and then didn’t. “Shall we…?” he asked. “It’s getting dark.”

“Yeah, all right, wild child.”

Alex showered first. He came out of the bathroom in his boxers, towelling his hair. Long legs, long arms, his knobbly ankles and wrists, his big feet, his hands. “All yours, mate.”

George’s mouth was dry. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll just—”

He jerked off in the shower, one forearm braced against the cool ceramic tile, the other hand furious and too-tight on his dick, the way he liked it. His orgasm was much more intense than he was expecting and he groaned aloud with it, too loudly, and then bit his lip as if that might suck the sound back inside.

“You alright in there, Georgie?” Alex called.

“Yeah, yep.” He dressed in briefs and a t-shirt, then took the t-shirt back off. It was warm, in the hotel room. Warm-ish.

Alex was lying on the beds, head cushioned on one arm. “You’ll go blind, you know,” he said, half-smiling. “You’ll get hairy palms.”

George thought for a split-second about denying everything but then tried a grin, awkward with it. “Come on, like you don’t do it.”

“Not usually in a hotel room with my mate,” Alex said lightly. “Question for you, Georgie: how many beds did you ask for? Real answers only, please.” 

George settled himself next to Alex and shut his eyes. “One.”

“Uh huh. Because…?”

“Because I thought maybe if we had to share a bed we would.” George swallowed. “You would, maybe, you’d realise.”

“Realise what?” Alex said, very soft.

“Realise that you wanted me.”

“George.” George felt Alex’s hand brushing lightly over his shoulder, his chest. He tried not to breathe, in case breathing might make the moment stop. “What about Carmen?”

“She’s not—” How to explain everything that Carmen was not? He settled on “She’s not here.”

Alex hummed in response, and pinched George’s nipple. George yelped.

“Not going to ask me about Lily?” Alex’s finger was circling around George’s nipple, so delicate.

“I—I know she’s, I know I’m not,” George said, Alex’s fingertip trailing down his stomach, outlining his abs. “Look, she’s not here either, is she?”

Alex settled himself on top of George, the heavy mass of him pinning George down like a weighted blanket: but even better because George’s weighted blanket had never implicitly promised to fuck him. George hadn’t been pining for his weighted blanket for years. “What do you want, George?” Alex asked. “Is this a one-time thing? Get me out of your system? Or do you want something longer-term?” He kissed George’s neck, lighting it up, sparks straight to George’s dick. “Want to be my mistress?”

George groaned. “Let’s see how good your dick game is, mate,” he said, and grinned when Alex laughed.

“All right, you minx.” Alex ground his hips down against George’s. “Let’s see how well you take it.” He bit George’s lower lip and then kissed it, sweet and lazy. George bucked his hips up.

And then the second bed rolled away from the first, and George and Alex both fell through the crack between up and thumped unceremoniously onto the hotel carpet.

They sat in shocked silence for a moment, and then started laughing. “Right, ok, back to Plan A,” Alex said. “We’ll just share the one bed, I think.”

It was good with Alex, as it turned out: it was everything George hadn't quite let himself hope for, and the price of it was simply that now he was going to be wanting it, all the damn time.

it takes a village to raise a crackfic. thank you to beautiful geniuses @accio-ricciardo for chatficcing this concept with me, @ininininininstayoutstayout for crucial george dialogue thoughts, and @onadarklingplain for her incredibly kind and helpful comments!

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 4 A Locked-Room Mystery

You telling me I have to WAIT for new designs you kidding???

I have some 'neat plans' for MOTLE, idk might include New Fucked-Up Lore because what else is the cartoon for?? But I'll have to see

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Little Logico wanders outside, and is immediately grabbed!!

LOGICO: OH FUCK NO, I AM NOT A STUFFED ANIMAL!

As charming as that is, that’s not why the people picked him up. He’s under arrest! He’s thrown in a little jail cell - this is NOT the luxury prison Gico is used to. 

COPPER: THERE you are you little PRICK! LOGICO: OH GOOD GOD!

Yep, she’s here, alongside Champagne and Bluski. 

BLUSKI: Hey. CHAMPAGNE: Hi. LOGICO: Of course, of COURSE the usual suspects are following me. WHY AM I HERE?? PERSON: A prisoner has been murdered and you’re the murder person. LOGICO: Good to know. I blame Officer Copper. COPPER: Chillax, my brother. I’m not a psycho cop anymore. Heh, around here, if they thought I looked at a guy wrong they’d put me down as a ‘bad dog’. LOGICO: Right.

In what appears to be a miniature theater for watching interrogations, Logico digs a scrap of paper from under a beautiful couch.

“In a street fight, ten people always beat one.”

Champ checks the passage.

CHAMPAGNE: This is from the Big Red Book. Major Red wrote this. LOGICO: Do you know who that is? CHAMPAGNE: Heh. Yeah. Don’t wanna get yourself in with him. [walks away] LOGICO: ...Care to share ANYTHING else??

Logi explores a phrase Irratino always whispered to him - the tallest suspect has the cheapest pen. Now just by looking at them, Champagne is the tallest guy in the room, but by legal standards, Bluski is supposed to be taller, so his pen is very cheap.

LOGICO: It- It makes sense if you look it up.

Seeing that Logico ‘caught’ his pen trick, Bluski heads to the elevator and travels way up.

LOGICO: How big is this station? CHAMPAGNE: 25 stories. Final floor, they’ve been known to throw people out the window.  LOGICO: This is horrific. I’m starting to miss the luxury prison. CHAMPAGNE: We all do mate.

Irratino is back home, asleep. He is dreaming of a human police woman wearing boots. I guess something different happens in the dream, and he shifts and giggles. But don’t worry, Logico got the clue somehow. This obviously means Copper kicked the prisoner to death! She shakes her head madly and spits all over the place.

COPPER: HOW CAN IT BE ILLEGAL IF A COP DOES IT???? LOGICO: I hate you so much. COPPER: NO, YOU HAVE TO SAVE ME! I’M A ‘BAD DOG’! I’M- LOGICO: Oh. OH, YOU MEANT LIKE THAT- PERSON: No, no.

A couple humans walk over and start creepily petting and patting Copper.

PERSON: There is no need for a consequence - it was only a prisoner. COPPER: Huh. Kinda like these guys~ LOGICO: I hATE this so much. Can I leave now?!?! COPPER: Whatever, man.

Logico tears away. He needs to get to the violet isles as soon as possible… for some reason.

The end!

Let's try to ignore Copper flirting with some background humans

(ok slight rant but I've saved it for the end so as to not ward people off, you can skip it)

I know it sounds petty but like I swear to god if anyone posts a murdle artwork, the entire tumblr fandom will notice (which is great btw!), but then if I post an artwork it's only the same three or so people who might look at it and it's just...

is it really THAT bad?? like... what am I doing wrong... ngl it's starting to feel less like the art quality and more personal...

but um... yea. i'm trying my best i guess

Uh chonkers jumpscare

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[bloomingdog]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 — 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

data: your basic florist au, bit of angst, identity reveal, all that stuff. 4k words, no use of Y/N.

You know him, you know what the looks like at the very least. Once a week—the day never stays the same—him and a group of other instrument-carrying people go into the small venue in front of your shop at nine in the evening, an hour after closing the shop, when you’re about to head home. One early morning, out of curiosity, you checked the schedules adhered and covering the roller shutter in a poor attempt to find who this mysterious guy was. You found no useful information in that regard, you did foind, however, that the club opened at ten and most concerts held there started at least half an hour later. With that new gathered intel your best guess was that they came early to get everything set or a rather quick sound-check.

The venue is on one of the corners that limit the four way pedestrian crossing, the two corners on either side both hold pubs, and diagonally there’s you. “For the Roses” is a name given by its old owner, a sweet lady—and Joni Mitchell fan—you had worked for since you were seventeen, and four years later she had decided it was time to retire. For the last five months it’s been just you, it was easier to take care of it when you were two people working, that much is true, but having to close the shop has given you staring privileges. Years ago, when you first started working here the placement of the shop seemed rather odd, between clubs, pubs and the many other forms of amusement, this, however, was a strategical position. A big part of the clientele consisted of repenting boyfriends and enamoured halves of a first date, and they kept the business afloat.

You recognise him the moment he walks in.

“Hello! How may I help you?” The clock ticks away the last minutes before closing as you try to put on your cheeriest voice.

“Hi, sorry about comin’ in so late. My mate’s playing a gig, I just want some flowers to throw on stage, whole dramatics and all.” His voice is smooth with only the slightest rasp to it. He’s a fun last client.

“Do you want the classic roses then?”

“Nah don’t bother, give me the leftovers.” There are one or two extra cuttings and a bouquet that never got picked up you wouldn’t mind getting rid of. 

You excuse yourself to pick out the best leftover flowers you could in an attempt to make a half-decent bouquet. He’s oggling your shop, he’s particularly eye-catching inside your light coloured, slightly old-fashioned establishment. He likes it there, it’s cosy, the floors are filled with different types of flower arrengements and the walls display an amalgamation of different decorations gathered throughout the years, his inspection is only interrupted by your coming back behind the counter.

“Here, I tried to make it as cohesive as I could.”

“It’s alright, love, it’s gonna get thrown anyway.” Oh, that pet name went straight to your chest.

“It felt unprofessional not to give you at least a small sample of my usual, better, quality.” He gave a side smile as a response.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house, no worries, I wouldn’t make you pay for only scraps.”

“That’s quite nice, take this as a tip, then.” He slid a twenty pound note on the counter, right before turning around a saying his goodbyes with a single wave of his hands.

Spinning the sign at the glass door so it reads “Closed” you turn to sweeping the floor and leaving your workplace as neat as possible, you hum along to the song playing from your phone on the counter. The 20 dollars he gave you felt a bit too much, not that you’re going to complain, not with the cost of everything, a flower shop isn’t a luxurious job to have, so it’s much appreciated. 

Drawing the curtain-like metal you spot a group of people walking into the club, one of them must be his friend.

A mere day later, he’s back, making the dainty bells above the door chime.

“Hello! Got another show you need to throw flowers at?” You quip and he chuckles.

“Nah. Only wanted to get actual flowers to have a good reason to ask you out.” He’s confident, maybe overly so, and Hobie is well aware of that, it’s not often that his confidence fails him, though. You look surprised before laughing, it’s ridiculous.

“And what were you thinking of getting?”

“I was hoping you could recommend me something.”

“Roses are usually the go-to flower, although I much prefer freesias.”

“Sick, I’d like a single freesia, please.” He says it in an overly polite manner, the whole situation is laughable.

“That’ll be two pounds.” You say as you hand him the flower.

“Here you go.” You mutter a thank you for an answer. “My band’s playing tonight, at ten, just on the other street, you could come and we could get a drink after.”

No way you’re attending a club on a Wednesday night, with a stranger nonetheless. 

“Sure.” 

“Sweet, I’ll see you. My name’s Hobie by the way.”

And it sounds like proper fun, really.

You’ve managed to avoid the biggest wave of people going home during rush hour and, thankfully, your ride home is as pleasant as the tube allows it to be and yet, you’re restless. His invite plays around in your mind. He’s handsome, that’s for sure, and it would satiate your curiosity on the other side it would also make you tired for work the next day, you’re too old for that, you think and softly laugh at your own joke. The walk home gives you time to ponder on wasted opportunities and the best years of your life, your flat instead greets you with the promise of a reheated dinner and an eight-hour-long sleep which for a moment makes you think about ditching him. 

The commute back feels longer than it usually does. You ate in a rush and got ready far too fast after your flatmate complained about needing to use the bathroom. Your phone marks 10:05PM, fashionably late. You’re thankful the show hasn’t started by the time you sit by the bar, ordering a beer. You still haven’t decided if it’s brave or cocky to ask someone out to your own show.

The whirring of a guitar being plugged signals the beginning of the show.

“Hello, we’re The Spider-Slayers! One two three!” Is your only warning before they start playing. They’re quite good, you have to admit, Hobie, as you’ve recently learned he’s named, exudes power and confidence while on stage, he’s rather skilled. It’s enjoyable, half of the audience is too plastered—it's only ten in the evening—to pay attention to the actual music and are merely glad to have a loud noise playing for them, but they’re well-liked, no doubt an established part of the community. It passes faster than you had anticipated, not even an hour later he’s walking your way while another band prepares to play.

He’s sweaty as he sits down and orders a rum and coke, he looks at you questioning if you also want one. “Make it two.” He indicates the bartender. “Did you like it?” 

He’s tall but not intimidating in the slightest, the metal in his face a contrast to all of his warm side smiles. 

“Yes!” You’re quick to answer. “It was really nice, you guys are good.” He fully smiles at the compliment, he’s got a pretty smile.

“Thanks. I forgot to ask your name earlier, sorry about that.”

“No worries, it’s Y/N.”

“Pretty.” It’s flirty. 

“Did your mate like the flowers?” You ask as the man behind the bar hands you your drinks.

“Totally, made a mess on stage and everything. She was grateful, seriously, funny and praising in equal parts, the bouquet was beautiful too, such a shame it ended like that.” You laugh at that. “How’s it working at a flower shop?”

“Good, actually, better than one good expect, I’d say it’s one of the better retail jobs out there.”

“Seems hard.”

“It is at the beginning, you should’ve seen some of my first arrangements, they were bloody awful, I’m still wondering how we didn’t get any complaints.” It’s Hobie’s turn to laugh.

“You’ve made some improvement then, your shop’s beautiful.” You beam and thank him, you’re proud of the way it’s looking these days. “How’d you end up working there? Do you need a degree to be a florist?”

“Not really, no. I’ve taken a couple courses but for the most part I was trained by my old boss.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Strange place to set up a flower shop, innit? I see you closing all the time and wonder who in their right mind would think of opening it at a nightlife epicenter.” Good to know you’re not the only observer.

“You’d think so! We get a lot of our clientele thanks to that, not all flower shops open until eight either way. Flowers make both great apologies and gifts, you can only imagine the kind of people who walk in there.”

“What, like me?” 

“No way, I’d put you in the normal bunch.” He quirks an eyebrow, an invitation to tell him more about yourself. And that you do. You talk for the two hours that the club remains open, he’s fun, you’re both chatty, you’ve got a multitude of things in common, he tells you about his bandmates, you exchange numbers, he’s a cat person by the way. 

“You want me to walk you home?” The underground closed an hour ago, it wasn’t that big of a trek to your place, you could say yes if not for the stranger—acquaintance—danger middle school talks flashing in your memory. The bus, though taking longer than the tube, was still an option.

“It’s fine, really. I’d rather take the bus.” 

“Got it, I can wait with you if you’d like.” Yeah, yeah, you’d like that. The two of you walk close to each other to the nearest stop. The pavement is damp, it gives you another reason to be glad that you wore your trusty old, slightly dirty, converse instead of a more sophisticated option.

“Thank you for inviting me, I had a nice time, you’re fun.”

“So are you, love.” How could an overused term like that have such a big effect on you when he says it remains a mystery.

You sit in a comfortable silence until the right bus gets there and as you bid your goodbyes you’re unable to contain the big smile you give him, blame it on the drinks. You send him a quick text noticing him that you got home safe and sound before falling into deep sleep.

Your phone rings and vibrates from the bedside table, it always goes off at the same time and yet today it manages to scare you awake. The trip to the bathroom and coffee making is accompanied by a string of curses: music, bad choices, the opening hours of your business and pretty boys all fall victim to your vulgarities. The lack of proper sleep makes your day go by twice as slowly, nodding off and almost missing your stop and doomscrolling during work hours to pass the time, even turning to reading an article from The Daily Bugle, it’s laughable, it’s says something something Spider-Man, something juvenile delinquent something menace for the city.

The chime of little bells half an hour before closing wakes you up better than your alarm had done earlier in the day. Looking up from your phone you spot the same bright eyes and confident stroll that kept you company last night.

“You need to stop coming in right before closing.” You scold him. You’re confident he’s aware that it’s an invitation for him to keep showing up.

“My bad. Do you like food?”

“I-What?” Indeed, what? “I like food, yes.”

“Peng. You want to grab dinner?” And he also needs to stop proposing last-minute plans.

“Where?”

“What do you fancy?”

“Thai?”

“Sure.” 

“I close in half an hour, you can stay here if you want.” Not that you’re expecting any more costumers.

He asks if he can help with anything and you hand him the broom and dustpan that hangs in the back of the shop, he laughs and takes it as payment for having you get out earlier. The floors aren’t dirty per se, it’s mostly leaves and bits of cutting that have fallen. He sweeps while you get everything ready for tomorrow and put away what’s been used today. Half an hour later you hang your work apron and close the shutters. 

There’s a nice restaurant a couple blocks away you’ve got food to-go from before. You order a spicy noodle soup, khanom jeen nam ngiaw, and he settles for stir-fry noodles. It’s good, warm and comforting, you take a bite from his plate and he follows suit with a spoonful of your broth. The conversation picked up while cleaning and it has yet to die down, he tells you about his hobbies—you can't help to make fun of him by saying Hobie's hobbies—and you share your love for museums with him, ‘We should visit one.’ he says to which you agree in excitement. 

You don’t let go of his hand until your bedroom door is closed and you softly push him into bed. Taking only a short break to take off both of your shoes you don’t waist time in straddling him, his hands on your hips as you return to kissing. Soft moans mark the tempo for your exploring hands and you stare at his bare abdomen with much less shame than you think you should have. His hands are slightly calloused and scarred, it doesn’t matter with how skilled they are. It feels like you’re drowning in him, you hope he feels half as good as he’s making you feel, if his breathless mutters of ‘fuck’ and ‘good girl’ are any indicator you can pat yourself on the back after it’s over.

The dinner is paid for, the night chilly compared to the warmth inside the restaurant. He offers to walk you home again, this time you agree because you’re no longer strangers, right? You make it half of the way before puts his hand on your lower back, you don’t make an effort to move it, it’s comfortable.

You make it three quarters of the way until you start kissing, your back against the wall of a mildly busy street, you feel like a horny teenager. You climb up the stairs to your flat two-steps at a time, your hand holding his and praying that your flatmate has confined herself to her room so you don’t have to introduce one to the other, not right now at least.

The morning after your alarm not only scares you awake but it also makes him sit up in bed with a jolt.

“Sorry.” Sleep is still evident in your voice.

“S’okay.” He replies before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, you don’t think either of you wants to deal with each other’s morning breath, it’s a tad early for that.

You offer him breakfast. Your flatmate has left for work but she won’t forgive you if you don’t tell her of last night’s events. At least it won’t make this morning awkward, or more awkward than it already is, it happens with first breakfasts: sleepy, a mess, cranky from waking up, it’s not anyone’s best look. 

You take the underground while he chooses to walk home, it’s not crazy far away from yours, apparently. In the meantime, the work day is spent looking up frantically every time the bells over your door chime, hoping that it will be him at some point. He does come over, at ten past eight, and he has to knock on the door to catch your attention. Your strange arrangement goes on for the better part of the next two months, he comes over when you’re about to close, you eat together multiple times per week, he’s quite a skilled at making exactly seven different dishes, he invites you to his shows and you’ve met his bandmates, you’ve had every cliché date imaginable: the park, the cinema, the natural history museum, markets, the full deal. You don’t call them dates though, you’re not a couple even with all the kissing and sleeping together—literally and figuratively—he’s told you he doesn’t like labels, but he’s being exclusive with you so you’re okay with it. 

He shows up with little cuts and bruises, you attributed to being clumsy at first but it’s become more common lately, he excuses it as a protest that went south, a moshpit or just a friendly scuffle with his mates. It doesn’t ease your nerves. But you're soon to forget all about it once you’re outside, walking hand in hand and sharing headphones, he’s incorporated bits and pieces of your music to his playlist and he makes sure to show you the songs he thinks you’ll like first than anything.

Your phone lights up with a text notification from Hobie, he’s coming over soon. It shouldn’t be, but it reads as ominous, he doesn’t usually tell you in advance and would rather showing up unannounced.

“Hey pet.” He greets, it’s his latest nickname for you, you’ve always thought it ridiculous but he’s making you grow fond of it.

“Hi Bee” An animal-related nickname you gave him after he tried calling you ‘duck’ that has stuck. “You want to do something or should we head home?”

“Home’s fine, I’m tired.” It’s fair, he’s always running around doing things, you’re okay with a night in. 

He sweeps the floor, it’s his assigned task, you feel bad but he says he doesn’t mind and likes helping you. The ride back to your place is quieter than usual, he seems pensive. You’re about to open the door to your building when you notice him stuck a meter away.

“Are you okay?” Your heart is picking up speed.

“Listen, love.” Oh no. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to come up.” You’re on the second and final step of the stairway while he’s at ground level, he looks smaller than he’s ever been. “I’ve had a lot of fun, really, but I don’t think I can go on with our thing, you know? I’m not good at commitment anyway.” Your lack of a response get’s him speaking again. “I’m truly sorry, I just don’t wanna go on with this and end up hurtin’ you.”

“Okay.” Is the only thing your brain is able to formulate.

“Okay.” He replies. “I’ll be leaving now.” He says as he kisses your temple, turning around and giving you a single wave of the hand for a goodbye.

You feel the tears beginning to fill up your eyes, your vision blurry, at least you were able to hold them until he left, it’s already embarrassing as it is. You don’t bother re-heating dinner that night, choosing to go straight to bed and waking up with puffy eyes in the morning. For the first time in a while you’re sure you won’t have any visits at work, it’s terrible. You feel stupid. He told you enough about himself to know that the two of you weren’t in for a long-term relationship and still you held onto some sort of hope of being an exception. 

That was two weeks ago. You’ve seen him two times since, while leaving for home. He waves your way and you wave back, out of politeness more than anything. Two weeks of radio silence that break your established routine and fill you with a sense of expectation during the last hours of work. 

It’s nine-twenty on a Sunday, it’s usual for you to stay until late at the end of your work week, Hobie knew that and would make sure to keep you company and take you home those days. The early November weather has made it so it’s already been dark for hours, the city is rather calm, you don’t suppose there’s much to do on a cold November night. A series of knocks on the door alerts you of the presence of someone outside, it startles you as you hold the broom you were using against your chest.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight outside the door. Spider-Man was doubling down and leaning against the glass of your shopfront, electric guitar strapped across him and hanging in his back, clad in his usual metal decorations while his suit had been torn. You let him in a hurry, it’s not ideal to have an idol of the working class dead on your welcome mat. He limps to the back of the shop, in your current state of panic you don’t stop to wonder how he knows the way so well, until he’s sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the walls, guitar forgotten besides him. You follow him and crouch at his side just in time for him to take off his mask. 

“Fuck off.”

“Hi pet.”

You were so excited to be done with work and head home to watch a film, lucky for you, your ex-situationship still has a habit of coming in right before you leave. 

“Bloody hell Hobie.” 

“Please don’t be shocked right now, we can talk about it tomorrow.” He can’t be serious. “I’m knackered.” I wonder why, you think. He looks like proper shit.

“Hobie you’re bleeding.” You’re trying your best to be helpful and not panic.

“It’s fine love, it’ll heal in no time, I kinda have superpowers.” You’re choosing to ignore that and get up to retrieve your first aid kit, it’s far too basic to be useful right now, only equipped to help with cuts and minor injuries.

You can feel his eyes on you and your whole body is shaking as you kneel by his side. You try your best to keep your hands steady while pouring rubbing alcohol into a cotton pad.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me clean it, please, so it doesn’t get infected.” He lets you, wincing at the alcohol making contact with his open injuries. He knows you're doing it more for yourself than him. “Sorry.” He shakes his head as a way of saying ‘no worries’.

You reach for his face with your bare hand once you’ve considered him clean enough, you cradle his cheek and can’t hold your tears from spilling.

“This is why I cut thing off with you, you know? Don’t wan’ you getting hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t say that.” He pleads. 

“What about you getting hurt? Does that not matter?” He laughs and winces right after.

“You’re a sweet thing. I don’t have a choice but you do.”

“And what if my choice is to stand by your side?”

“You can’t.”

“Yes I do!” You’re reaching tour breaking point and can’t help but raise your voice. “I didn’t know I loved you as much as I do until these last weeks without you. It’s been torture.”

“It’s been torture for me too.” His words soften you, and it’s only then you realize what you said, you don’t dare acknowledge them, maybe he didn’t notice or the head trauma will make him forget it.

You’re crying now and it feels awful because you should be the one comforting him, he’s hurt not you. He holds you as you shake and places a kiss to your head.

“Can we sleep here?” He asks once you’ve calmed down. The tile floor is anything but comfortable and still you nod yes.

You fix a make-shift bed consisting of your bunched up jumper and apron for pillows and your big coat, that barely covers his upper body, for a blanket. Not that it matters, you chose to turn the radiator up and it’s hard to get cold while curled up to a human heater. You’re careful while laying with him, both out of fear of hurting him and prudence of this hurting you even more. He doesn’t care and brings you closer, your head on his chest and his hand drawing shapes on your back over your clothes, you can’t help but worry about the state of his back in the morning. 

You find sleep easier than you have since your “break-up”, his rhythmic breathing lulls you and his caresses calm you down. You’re in the before-falling-asleep-limbo when you hear his voice, he says “I love you too” like a confession secret, you’re not sure if you were even supposed to hear it. It’s too late for you to react, his words mix with the beginning of your dreams into a spiralling nonsense.

🕷 i really enjoyed writing this! i was thinking of maybe doing a part 2? tell me your thoughts if you dont mind too! i haven't written anything that isnt academic in years and i feel rusty

[skzthelomlhehe]

A lustful collab

Genre: music, fluff, smut, romance, slice of life.

Warnings: sexual descriptions (as the genre suggests)- fingering, harsh language, bleeding, first time, unprotected sex.

Description: In love with your voice he asks for a collaboration. You invite him to your studio but seeing how he was gonna be late you decide to do... Questionable things. And alas he walks in on you doing that cuz you're dumb and forgot to lock the fucking door and things get spicy hehe~

A/N: Heyy! This is my first time writing at Tumblr and also my first take on smut that isn't roleplay lmao the story itself is mostly fluff with smut in between. Hope it doesn't get too stretchy eeee- I literally came up with the plot while listening to connected fr and got even more inspiration from MOVIE by JUNNY srs! anyways~ hope this little delulu one shot can feed yalls delulu hearts~ also PS: A warning is given before the smut starts JUST IN CASE idk why I added it but I did lmao

Vibe with:

It was beautiful autumn noon. Birds chirping, people probably at home napping or at work or whatever. The street was empty and you were inside your room working on your new song at your parents' house. After a while of humming and singing, you put down your guitar and took off your headphones before looking out the window of your room.

A quiet and peaceful afternoon painted with golden hues of the pretty sunset. Perfect time to record your song. So you decided to take your things which included your guitar, phone, a big tripod and a black foldable chair.

You headed out to the yard with your hands full of stuff barely managing your balance and not accidentally tumbling over and risking every bit of fortune you spent on your set up.

Upon reaching, you successfully manage to put down your stuff in the correct position which was unusual given your extraordinarily clumsy nature. But oh well, luck was just on your side. After you were done with all the silly little labor you finally sat in your chair and started recording. The melody flew gracefully, your guitar cooperated and didn't buzz as your hands guided each note, your voice obeyed your pleas and didn't crack but escaped your lips soft and smooth. The rhymes flowed by as if it were a river devoid of any bounds and for once you didn't feel disrupted or out of breath. Everything went down smoothly which was, once again, quite unusual given your tendency of taking a thousand takes.

All this while, your eyes remained shut as if naturally. You couldn't open them and frankly, neither did you want to. You preferred the soft breeze that tickled your skin, making your hair flow just the tiniest bit. As your song came to an end, you slowly opened your eyes and switched off the recording. Just as you were about to check the video you just took, you were startled by a soft clap followed by a deep, husky yet smooth voice. One that you knew a bit too well. "That was so beautiful! You've got an amazing voice, mate!" The voice spoke out. You looked up, utterly shocked thinking your ears were playing tricks on you. But when you did look up, your heart skipped a beat. In a good way obviously!

There he stood, an averagely tall man, eyes sparkling as if millions of stars were held in them, the dimples at the end of the corner of his smile made you feel like you would drown in them and you honestly don't complain. His hair curled perfectly into a neat fuzz. These details, you knew it too well. A bit too well. Christopher, a well known musician who was the heart throb of many. He's your idol, someone you look upto a lot and also the one who inspired you to go against your family's disapproval and start a career in music. If not for him, you wouldn't be here making music right now.

you quickly put down your guitar on the chair and grabbed your phone stuffing it in your pocket while rushing to him who was standing behind the fence out on the sidewalk. "O-oh gosh thank you...! You flatter me!" You said flustered. You could feel your face getting hotter. Shy? Embarrassed? Flustered? Anything that falls into the similar synonym spectrum, you felt it.

"I'm serious! You make a great deal of a singer." He said, his smile Perking up hiding his eyes. He extended out his hand in a gesture of a shake, "I'm Chris by the way. Just moved here a few days back, nice to meet you!" And almost immediately like the silly fangirl you were, you held his hand, albeit gently unlike those psychos who don't know personal space and bowed "I-I'm Y/N!! It's very nice to meet you too sir!" And with that you just buried your self-esteem deep inside the ground. Sir? Seriously? You could do better Y/N.

Upon blurting out whatever you said, you were met with a rather charming chuckle. You looked up to see the man in front of you laughing, still holding your hand and covering a teeny bit of his smile with his other hand. "You're a funny one, Y/N!" He said, still having the after effects of the little laugh. He let go of your hand, you felt a little disappointed when he did so but you didn't bother to make an expression out of it. "So it seems you live around here? Ive heard you sing but never really saw you before." He spoke, possibly making small talks. "Ah no I used to live here. This is my parents' house, I come by every other week. I live 3 blocks away actually." You spoke quite calmly even though there was a storm raging inside your mind. But no one needs to know that except you and me right? Moving on!

"Ahh~ I see~ well! We'll still be seeing each other some time, no? Can I have your number? I don't really have many friends my age round here." He pulled out his phone and held it in front of you expecting you to type your number in. "o-oh sure..!" You took his phone rather abruptly cuz once again you're clumsy cuz why not~ and typed your number in. You made a quick call from his phone and saved your number in his. You handed him the phone before taking yours out and saving it as well. "great! So I'll text later yeah? I gotta run now, but I'll see you later?" He spoke, looking at you expectantly. You just nodded with a bright smile. "That's that then! See ya, mate!" He cheerfully bid you goodbye, turning away and looking at you one last time with a wink and waving his hands in a peace sign.

That was when you went into a faze. And the next thing you know, you're lying in bed, your stuff neatly organized. "So uhh... I was singing in the yard, someone came, said I sang great, the someone so happed to be my fucking crush and idol and he asked me for my number and he said he'll text me... He... He asked... He ASKED FOR MY FUCKING NUMBER OH MY FUCKING GOD IS THIS A DREAM?!?!?!" After taking your sweet sweet time processing whatever happened you started kicking your feet like a teeny tiny little girl in Love even though you're a fucking (your age) year old woman. (Y'all freaky minors I see you so you better get going)

And then all of a sudden amidst your delulu moment, you get jolted awake to reality by a text notification. When you open your screen your face lights up into a bright ass smile, heart in your eyes and just- delulu all over again.

And just like that you snatched yourself a date (not really) with your favourite local artist! How lucky aren't you? Anyways~ you looked at the clock and it was 4:16 pm already. You rushed up, swifting through your closet only to find nothing wearable. "Do I really not have anything here??? Why did I take everything there with me ugh!!!!" You whisper yelled cuz after your little yelling sesh earlier the last thing you want is for people (especially Chris) to think you're crazy. After failing to find anything wearable you quickly grabbed your things and drove off to your studio.

After a lot of deciding you finally found an outfit you wanted to wear and quickly headed into the shower. And after managing to shower, get dressed, put make up on and do any other finishing touches you were finally ready! You took one last look at yourself into the mirror and felt extremely self satisfied. The clock showed 5:35 pm and it takes about 15 minutes to get there by taxi and the last thing you want is to be late. So you hurried down and got yourself a ride and right to the cafe you went.

You've been to this cafe for a good long while now. It was your favourite spot to chill and the bells attached to the door was always a calming welcome for you. This time although, that same ring sent shivers down your spine. And you didn't know why. You were, as usual, greeted by a gentle young man who was pleased to see one of the regulars back again.

"a single seat again?" He asked as you entered. You shook your head, "not this time boy! I've got company" and soon a giggle left your lips followed by a confused, curious and pleased 'oh?' from the man. He smiled and led you to a comfortable seat. A perfect seat is what you considered it. A big glassed window which gave the perfect view of the lit up streets outside. The cafe was warm and coazy like its name. You took your coat off and draped it over the chair lean before taking a seat. A few minutes of waiting which seemed like hours your clock showed 5:56 pm. You were starting to get worried. Was he gonna ditch you? Were you gonna get stood up by a person you admire so much?

As you let yourself spiral into your overthinking, you were brought back to reality with a knock on the wooden table, "hello? Anyone there? Earth to Y/N!" You looked up, blood rising to your face making it warmer. "A-ah yes! S-sorry about that. I sorta uh... Lost myself there, heh." You mumbled, loud enough for him to hear albeit quite faint. "Right, it's all good!" The man took a seat in front of you, "lovely view." He said, looking out the window. "Ah... Lovely indeed." Your awestruck fangirl eyes stayed glued to this man's face, observing every little detail. His beautifully curly brown hair, big lips that stretched into a smile, that deep and gorgeous dimple that dug at the end of the corner of his smile. Lovely... He was more than just lovely.

"So... Which one of the view is lovely here, exactly?" You didn't realise he was looking at you. His right elbow rested on the table while his tilted head rested on his palm, his face painted with a shimmering smile.

You were dazed by the view in front of you, "You..." You muttered, your head falling off your palms, "N-no I mean both! I mean- no- the outside- or like no uh maybe both? Uh- ah! I don't know!" You hid your face within your hands and heard a soft chuckle. That chuckle tickled your ears turning them bright red.

After much awkward blabbering you guys finally got down to business. Having discussed a few of the details, you guys agreed to meet on the weekends in your studio since his new studio wasn't fully done yet. You both decided to discuss further details and make a contract on Saturday at your studio.

Time passed by in the blink of an eye. Before you know it, you guys have had chatted endless conversations in the meantime. Gotten much more closer. And before you knew it, your phone display showed 8:35 AM on a Saturday morning. Chris was supposed to arrive at 12:30 pm, grab lunch with you and then work on the song.

You looked around realising your room was a total mess. You had 4 hours to clean everything up, shower and get ready and you were quite determined.

You cleared everything up, every Speck of dust lying around was removed in what felt like an instant. You quickly took an everything shower. Washing your hair, shaving, skincare etc etc everything.

After all was done, you checked your phone again. The time showed 12:23 PM. You felt content, giving your chest a light pat of approval. You put on some casual clothes and put up your hair into a messy bun. You patted on some powder, a little blush, tad bit of eyeliner and some soft lip tint to tie it all together.

Just when you were done with everything, you heard your door bell ring. Anticipation grew with each step you took running to your front door. "coming!" You yelled.

Opening the door felt like opening it to a beam of light. You were greeted by a warm smile and a "Hey, pretty!" In the softest most endearing tone youve ever heard. It was like music to your ears. You replied with a "hey handsome~" as a giggle left both your lips.

You knew better than to delude yourself but right now... For a tiny bit... You wanted to think this was more than just some collaboration and something perhaps a little more special. Although getting to Collab with this man was a great deal of honor in itself.

You guys drove to the restaurant in his car. The way his veiny hands glided on the steering wheel made you feel things. The way he spoke, the way he sat there driving, the way he laughed, the way the wind ruffled his hair ever so softy, everything made butterflies rage inside your stomach.

You guys vibed to some music, both singing in tune as he drove. At the restaurant you both chatted while waiting for the food. Chris, curious of the food you were having, took a small bite and regretted immediately with how spicy it was. He coughed "good- lords! How do you eat that?" You chuckled. "or you're just too much of a baby to handle even this little bit of spice? You even have food on your face!" "Eh? Where?" He scanned through the corners of his lips trying to wipe the food away. Watching him struggle, you took a piece of tissue and leaned in to wipe it for him. It felt like time stopped, like some kind of a cliche rom com movie. You both stared at each other for a few moments before he cleared his throat. You sat back down clearing your throat as well.

After the lunch, you both came back to your place. For a second it was awkward but that tension was soon killed as he initiated a small talk that dragged into a conversation.

Getting home, you both talked about the collab. You both jotted down a small contract that his manager would review later to confirm it. But you guys were too excited to wait for any of that and decided to start working on the song.

You both presented ideas you guys had come up with in the meantime. While he took a look at the sheet of printed paperwork you switched on your computer. Time flowed like a river with clear path.

"Should we make some alterations in that part?" He spoke, pointing his pen towards the lit up computer screen. "Which one? This?" You moved your cursor towards the line and selected it. "No not that one, the one below. Here this-" without much thought, his hand trailed to the mouse and placed right about your hand. He clicked the line he had originally pointed to, "I think we could make it a little more feely here-" he paused and realised where his hand was. He looked at you, your face flushed a cute shade of pink. Seeing you, his face, too, flushed in a soft blush before he abruptly took his hand away. "R-right yeah we uh we could do that"

You looked away, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you bit your lower lip feeling a slight sense of disappointment having him pulled away. His hand was big on yours, the warm weight of it felt comforting. You've had your hand held by a lot of people, family, friends, exes. But this particular moment made you feel like your hand was on fire and frankly, so was your entire body.

You felt a wet slick in your lady down there. You quickly excused yourself to the restroom. You had considered that maybe it was... Something else ... But you had thought maybe it was just your period coming a day earlier. But once you had made it into the restroom, you realised, it was, in fact, what you had anticipated and that anticipation was definitely not your period.

You went back, things seemed a tad bit awkward. You didn't like it. You didn't like it at all. You hated the tension that had been created just because of a trivial matter like mistakenly putting his hand on yours while reaching for the mouse. Although the tension was there, you guys still managed to get some work done. After a while, Chris got a call from his manager asking him to get home since it was already 9:12 pm.

Time sure flew. You wished time would stop so you could spend more time with him but you knew you couldn't. So you swallowed down your disdain and walked him to the exit bidding him goodbye. It was bitter, but it is what it is.

You went back in finding yourself in a faze again. You could barely make sense of anything that was happening. You saved the progress on your computer and went straight to bed because frankly, you didn't have any energy left for anything else.

(just imagine some spicy stuff cuz idk how to write a wet dream 💀)

The next day, you woke up to your kitty feeling extra soaked. You groaned thinking it was the after effects of the wet dream you just had. But to your utter surprise and absolute agony, it was none other than that annoying cousin you despised. That's right ladies, you got your period. Periodt.

You took a quick shower before cleaning up last night's mess. You knew your cramps were about to HIT today. And you dreaded it. You could barely move around the entire day because of the excruciating pain you were in. No wonder your sex drive was so high and you felt pain in your waist for the past week.

Time ticked to 6 PM and it was about time Chris arrived. And just on time, you heard your doorbell ring. You tried your best not to look too groggy. You opened the door to his bright smile again, all the tension out the window. You smiled back, your abdomen almost on the verge of busting.

"Hey... You alright?" He asked, his eyes glistening in concern. "Y-yeah... I just got my period today and the cramps are wild." You replied. "oh... Then... Should I leave? I mean-.. I don't wanna cause you any more pain" you couldn't believe how painfully nice he was. Gosh he was just... So considerate. But you didn't want to miss this opportunity. You didn't want to wait an entire week. "No! No it's okay! I can do it! Don't worry!" You blurted. "alright then. But let me know if you're in any pain ok?" He wanted to make you feel comfortable and just him being so considerate made you feel like you could get through a thousand cramps.

You nodded before letting him in. You guys started working on the song again. But unfortunately, as optimistic as you were before, you couldn't help but feel the pain resurface ever so often. The pain felt harder each time it returned. At some point you couldn't help but groan, clenching at your tummy.

"Are you... Are you ok? You don't look too good." He held your shoulder ever so softly. "Ye-yeah I just... Need to use the restroom real quick. I'll be back." "Sure, take your time."

Just as you were about to stand up, your legs gave out and you tripped. Chris, who was right there, happened to catch you in time. Had you fell, your head wouldve went straight to the corner of the table cracking it open. Your heart raced. But, you couldn't tell if it was out of fear or the fact that you were practically groping his chest. Or maybe it was both.

You got up in a rush, your head felt fuzzy. "ah im- im so sorry! I didn't mean to!" "No- no it's alright! You were about to fall so I just... It's okay I don't mind... I mean... Uhh I would mind if it was some random person who just got all over me without permission but uhh what I mean is it's alright I didn't think anything of it..." He looked away turning his head, his ears a bright red.

You hurried off to the restroom and locked the door. "Stupid stupid! You stupid girl! Agh why did you have to fall on him??" You whisper yelled. Your hands still felt warm from the sensation. Your nipples had perked up and you felt aroused out of your mind. But you didn't want to feel it. You didn't want to be a creep and make him uncomfortable.

Time skip ...

A month had passed now. You guys got even more closer now. In the meantime you had many more physical contacts that ignited sparks within you. The sessions didn't last in tensed awkwardness anymore and you guys were having fun.

You were checking out your calender as usual to check out if you had something important in the coming days. Your period for this month had ended two days ago, you were supposed to have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday and the rent was due on Thursday. Everything was checked out. You looked at your phone that showed 10:34 am on a Saturday.

You suddenly get a text and your face brightens up when you see the sender of it.

If this was a while ago, you would find it illegal to even think of getting coffee with THE Christopher. Asking him to bring along coffee and having him treat you to pastry as an apology just would've felt illegal and a faraway day dream. But here we are.

You flopped down on your bed, scrolling through the gallery in your phone. It had endless pictures of Chris. Even more of him than you, your family and friends combined.

You squealed with every picture as you realised again and again how attractive he was and this very man was coming over every other weekend for a collab. It was just... So unreal to you.

{Warning: here the smut starts so if you're not ok with that please skip until you see a divider. Thank you.}

As you were thinking of all this, you found yourself feeling a tad bit aroused. You put your phone down as you glided your hand through your body gradually sliding in down inside your shorts.

You rubbed your clit that had been a swollen bud and your hole had been leaking ever since, thirsting for a little action. You pulled your shirt up revealing your breasts as they bounced and you pulled you pants down. Your pants hung by your ankle as you slowly rubbed your entrance gently.

It throbbed. It wanted more. You started thrusting your finger in. First your middle, then both your middle and ring finger and soon your index as well. You gradually became a moaning mess. Occassionally calling out Christopher's name under your breath as you fondled your boobs.

Oh how you wished he were here with you. As you were in your moments of pleasure laying unbeknownst of anything, a thud jolted you awake from your fantasy.

You looked towards the door of your room realising the clear view of your kitty you had put on to anyone who stood there. Horror overcame you as you realised who was standing at the door. Chris. His bag had fallen, possibly due to shock of seeing you like that.

His face was utterly surprised. You quickly closed your widely spread apart legs scrambling to hide but it just didn't work out. "h-how are you here?!" You asked, shame and guilt overcoming you. "We-well the door was unlocked and I called out to you but you didn't hear me an-and I just-" his face brightened red. You looked down unknowingly and realised he had a painful bulge that looked like it would pop out any moment now.

"y-you... Why are you..." You pointed, he looked down and quickly hid it. "I'm oh lords I'm so sorry! I didn't-"

As if your body moved on its own, you got off the bed and walked closer to him. He stumbled as you did, "wha- what are you-"

"don't you..." You shut him off, "don't you feel repulsed? You heard everything didnt you?" "I- I mean I did hear you... Calling my name but.. uh.. no no... I ... I don't feel repulsed... Not in the slightest!" He blurted out. You weren't usually the bold type but today, for some reason, you felt unstoppable. You took the bag of coffee from his hand and set it down on the shelf near the door. "So... You're turned on by what you saw?" He looked away turning his head before softly nodding. That nod in itself made you even bolder. You slowly glided your hands to his shoulders, letting your arms rest around his neck as you leaned closer making him flinch.

"Come on, Chris... Look at me..." You whispered. "N-no I..." "But... I want you to look at me." You looked at him with sparkly eyes. He looked at you clenching his fists trying his best not to lose himself.

"Do you... Want to touch me...?"

"I shouldn't..."

"it's not about should or shouldn't... Do you want to? Or not?"

He clenched his jaw, unable to speak anything. You leaned in closer to his face. "if you don't want it... Push me away right now..."

And with that, you leaned in even more. Both of your lips not even an inch away from each other. You could feel his warm breath against your skin. You felt so... So turned on. You'd have thought he would push you away. But to your utter surprise...

He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in to a kiss. You flinched and were caught off guard but soon gave in to the passionate kiss. He was rushed, but not too much. It felt good. Your lips touched in perfect harmony. You mewled as you felt his tongue on your lips. Without any complaints you let him in.

Your tongues twirled in a beautiful rhythm. Your breaths clashed with each other. You grabbed onto him a little tighter, pulling him in towards the bed. He pushed you on the bed, kissing you again.

You broke the kiss, unbuckling his pants revealing his throbbing member. His dick was nice and long. Perfectly thick and girthy. You panted at the sight of it and your pussy throbbed. You wanted him. You want to take him.

You got up and pushed him down on the bed as you got on your knees. "Can I...?" You asked and he nodded biting his lips. You could see it in his eyes. Just how eager he was. He huffed as you blowed softly on his tip.

You rubbed it against your soft cheek making him groan. He was already overflowing with precum. You slowly glided your finger through his member. It both scared and aroused you to see his size and how veiny it was. It was throbbing and flinching every now and then.

"just... Do it alreadyy.." he begged and you couldn't wait to comply. You slowly started shoving it inside your face. Licking every bit of it. He threw his head back grasping onto your hair, pushing your head further down. You moaned again finding it incredibly hard to take it all in.

You choked as his tip hit the back of your throat and he let you go instantly. "Ah! Im sorry! Are you ok?" He asked pulling you closer to your face cupping your cheeks. "Yeah.. I'm.. I'm okay. I just don't have much experience with deep throating." You spoke still catching your breath. "it's ok if you don't want to. I don't wanna force you to do something you don't enjoy."

"no it's alright. I want to do it. So just relax." You went back to his groin. This time, taking it slow. Rubbing his member and licking the tip slowly preparing to him all in. Steadily you start putting it inside your mouth. It felt weird at first and you felt overwhelmed but you were determined. You wanted him to feel good.

It gave you immense pleasure when you heard his groans and moans. "Fuck baby you're so hot..." He moaned under his breath. That just aroused you even more. You went back up to his face, kissing him passionately. He pushed you down on the bed and took off his shirt.

Good lords that was the most sexiest and hottest thing you've ever seen. He soon made his way down between your thighs. First kissing your inner thighs along with soft bites that sent shivers down your spine. You yelped a moan when you felt his fingers circling your poor swollen bud and moaned even more when you found him licking it. You thanked your soundproof walls. You thanked yourself who worked endlessly to afford that soundproofing. It just meant you could moan as much as you wanted.

"Shit... Chris... Im... Fuck im so close...!" You mewled. He came up to your face, kissing you relentlessly again as if he was just going to devour you. "can... Can I put it in..?" He asked with these adorable puppy eyes. You felt his tip rubbing against your entrance. "yes.. god... Yes please... I need to Chris... I need you so much... Fuck just put it in already..." You moaned. You couldn't take it anymore. You needed him. You needed him so bad.

"but... There's no condom? Should I go buy some?" He said pulling away and almost getting up. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer. "Fuck condoms just do it! Im safe." (A/N: please use condoms even if you're safe. Your partner might not be safe 💀)

And without much ado, he started shoving it in. It was your first time. You didn't expect it to hurt so much. A drop of tear trickled down your face as you gasped in shock. "agh... Ah fuck... Fuck fuck fuck that hurts ngh..." You cried. It hurt. It hurt so much. You could feel your hymen tearing apart. Blood trickled down your hole. "fuck... Im sorry... Just... A little more... I promise it'll feel better..." Chris reassured you. He pulled you into a tight hug kissing your shoulders and neck. You cried in pain. It was even more painful than you had imagined.

You wrapped both your hands and legs around him. It was painful, but you wanted to keep going. After a while, it was in. His whole dick was completely inside you, wrapped by your walls. "I'm in... Im in..." He huffed. A wave of relief flooded over you. It hurt, but it was started to feel a little better now.

He gently started moving. Each thrust started making the pain leave your body. And before you knew it, you were overcome by pleasure. Once what was a cry of pain turned to cry of pleasure.

You moaned loudly over and over again calling out his name. "Fuck angh Chris...! Aah... That... That feels so good nngh.." you moaned.

He thrusted inside you, relentlessly. "good fuck baby you feel so damn good... Oh gosh you're so pretty... You're so beautiful... Fuck I love you so much..." He moaned back. You were caught off guard. "you... You what...?" Another tear trickled down your face. Your heart raced like crazy. "I... Im sorry but... I just happened to feel it I... I don't know..." He stopped thrusting feeling hesitant. You smiled before placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Why'd you stop, silly? I love you too... I always have... It feels like a dream to be here like this with you..." You pull him closer. He sniffles, his eyes teary and he smiles before kissing you and thrusting again.

He hugged you, kissing and sucking on your nipples leaving hickeys where only he can see. You suddenly felt a knot form inside your belly. And you knew what it was. "Shit Chris... Im... Im close... Im so close..." You mewled. "I'm... Im close too... Let's... Let's cum together yeah?" He groaned. "Yeah... Yeah let's do that..." You huffed.

Before you know it, his pace fastened and so did both of your grunts and moans. The room filled with noises you made and the noises of skin slapping, kissing and sucking.

And at last, that knot loosened and you felt yourself flinching and trembling and reached your climax. He quickly pulled it out and came on your belly before falling on you. Both of your pants unsteady. He turned to lay down on the bed, your head on his arm. "Fuck... That felt so good..." He huffed. "Yeah... It did.."

.......................

{smut ends here lmao}

After a while of laying there and catching up on breathing. You both decided to take a shower together and clean up. Having done that, you both made your way to the bed and laid next to each other.

"So... You like me?" Chris asked as he caressed your head gently. In embarrassment, you hid your face in his mascular chest. "We-well... I've been a huge fan of yours for a while now and... I've always liked you but... Ever since we've met... I couldn't help but develop feelings more than that of a fan to her idol..." You replied shyly.

"that's... Quite nice to hear actually..." He smiled. You looked at him, your chin rested on his chest. "what about you?" You asked.

"hmm... I've actually seen you before. You performed in the 'Railway Bar and Restaurant' right?"

"Oh yeah... I did. Don't tell me... That was the first time you saw me?"

"I did! I was amazed by your performance. Shortly after I saw you all over my tok tik and tube-you (names are funny cuz I'm pretending to be funny hehe). I really liked the music you made and I wanted to meet your for the longest time. You caught my eye like none other. So when I met you again, I couldn't help but feel this... Attraction towards you."

Your face flushed red. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. It felt like you were dreaming. "So... What are we now...?" You asked, unsure if you should ask to begin with. "I don't know... What do you want us to be?" He asked. "I... Kinda want us to date..." You spoke hesitantly. It felt illegal to ask him that.

But surprisingly enough again, he chuckled. "Sure let's do that." You looked at him in disbelief. He was smiling. And he wasn't lying. He was kidding, he wasn't playing. He really wanted it too. You couldn't help but giggle. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and then on your lips.

Time skip again....

Another few months later, the collab was finally done and posted. It turned out to be a super hit. Both your and his fandom went crazy over it. At first you both wanted to keep your relationship private but one day a fan saw you guys on a date in a cafe. You were scared his fan would be mad and throw a tantrum but what you didn't expect was that she would start squealing and saying how she was expecting it because of the collab.

A few weeks later you guys came out public. There were two sides of the fans. One side was toxic. They bashed you both for the choice you made. But the majority were nice and supported your decisions.

It was overwhelming, to say the least, but you guys were together and that's what mattered. Both your families loved each other as well. Although your family was a bit hesitant at first, they soon caved in to both your career and your relationship.

Things were looking up and you were happier than ever. Your face was all over different social media platforms, in a good way. Your popularity increased significantly and people loved the music you made.

Now the rest of the story? That's for you to write :3

This is the end of "The lusfut Collab" and I hope you guys enjoyed it! See you again with another oneshot! Byeee!

[theflatpackangel]

[brief note: this is an utter shambles and has not AT ALL been proof read(though I did delete a whole plot point cuz it was annoying me), feel free to IGNORE COMPLETELY plot holes, mistakes and cringe fail moments, Thanks!!]

The two of them sat silently in the office, the night nurse (aka Charlie) and Crystal were both otherwise occupied, he couldn’t remember specifically what they were up to; he was too busy thinking. Edwin sat peacefully in his chair, some humongous hardback about the science of superstition cracked open in his lap, too heavy to hold up for a long time. Charles was absentmindedly staring at the screen of the laptop Crystal had left playing. He wasn’t particularly interested in ‘Brooklyn 99’ at the moment though, his thoughts were occupied entirely with ways to convince his partner to relax. Edwin had been a little more stiff recently, especially after the confession, his relief about being free from hell had been extremely short lived. Maybe it was Charles who had made him this way, he didn’t think he’d changed at all since the confession. But perhaps he was quieter, after all, it was a lot to think about.

He glanced away from the laptop, his eyes trailing around the room until they laid themselves on his fellow detective, who had moved significantly since he last looked around. He had removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and flopped uncharacteristically haphazardly next to him.The book he had apparently given up on reading (in favour of watching the season three Halloween heist) was already neatly in its usual place. Charles blinked, bewildered. Edwin actually looked relaxed, at a small stretch, chilled out even. Somehow his hair had fallen out of its pristine gel chrysalis and into loose, albeit still neat curls.

What the fuck was going on?

“Charles, are you alright?”

“Yeah..yeah mate just didn’t think you’d watch this sort of thing is all”

Charles shook his head, reminding himself that he should be glad his co-detective was relaxing.

“I like to see how other detectives operate”

He hummed in response, watching Edwin from the corner of his eye. He observed him watch excitedly, whilst he didn’t seem to understand the jokes he appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Charles didn’t think he’d ever see the day that Edwin Payne was at ease, but here he was, his appearance flickering occasionally as he relaxed more. You see, ghosts have to make a conscious effort to keep an appearance, but Edwin seemed to have forgotten it as he relaxed. His black hair curled gently without its wax pomade prison, his clothes were the same, but seemed much less stiff as his body untensed. Charles decided he liked this look quite a bit.

He sat quietly, thinking about their conversation on the stairs out of hell.. whilst they had forever to figure themselves out, forever wasn’t as long as he’d originally thought it would be, he thought it’d take him a couple of years, maybe even decades to make up his mind. But something had pried his eyes open. It had been six months, and he had decided.

But he wasn’t going to say anything.

Not yet.

After a while he found himself closing his eyes, whilst ghosts couldn’t sleep, they didn’t need to, so why would they, they had something very similar. This form of ghost sleep wasn’t for physical tiredness, it was more for mental tiredness than anything. As his eyes began to close Charles slumped over, his head resting on Edwin’s shoulder. His mind fluttered in and out of his sleeping state, occasionally his eyes would flick open momentarily. Sometimes Edwin would be peering down at him, presumably checking on him, other times he’d feel the cold brush of the other ghosts fingers on the back of his neck. The final time his eyes opened he had been laid properly on the sofa in the corner of their office, his head resting on one of the slightly moth-eaten cushions instead of Edwin’s shoulder.

His partner chuckled from the other side of the office, he could see the setting sun through the big window behind the desk. How long had he been asleep?

Edwin looked up from his files, a light smile playing on his lips.

“Good Evening Charles”

He blinked slowly.

“You drool when you sleep” he said matter of factly “did you know that? A client came in whilst you slept, if you’d like to come and take a look?”

Charles hauled himself off of the sofa and gave a small nod, approaching to lean over the desk to get a better look at the files.

“What’re we looking at?” He tilted his head, unable to figure out what the image in front of him was, it was dark and grainy, and quite frankly the worst photo he’d ever seen.

“Apparently it’s some sort of spirit projecting music box”

“Right. And who’s house phone took this?”

Edwin tutted and rolled his eyes, shutting the file with a hefty thump. “You know full well haunted objects don’t appear well on camera”

Charles hummed, pulling on his jacket and shouldering his bag. Truthfully he couldn’t really be bothered to go and exorcise a music box, but he was getting paid so he sort of had to.

“You’re awfully quiet today”

Charles scoffed playfully, feigning annoyance.

“Don’t be a knob”

Edwin smiled, a rare sight.

The apartment they arrived in was neat, it didn’t look all that lived in. In fact Charles probably would’ve thought it was one of those weirdly posh show homes had it not been for the dishes in the sink and the photos on the wall. Edwin had explained the case before they left, the average everyday, ‘I’m stuck and don’t know why’ sort of case. Whoever lived here wasn’t home often. It didn’t take them long to find the music box. It was producing a purplish mist, which was peppered with little images, all moving sort of mechanically.

“Fascinating” Edwin whispered, extremely close to his ear as he peered at the images, his eyes widened, fraught with childish excitement.

Charles didn’t say anything.

He just watched.

The mist was full of well loved memories, intricately detailed. One that caught his eye seemed to be from a wedding, the joy in the eyes of the couple before him would have made his stomach churn had it been possible.

“Right!” Edwin broke the silence, chirpier than usual “lets sort this out shall we?”

Charles shook himself from his daze and walked towards the music box.

“Could have something important in? Like jewellery”

“Mhm..maybe”

Edwin followed him over, flipping up the lid.

The inside of the box was just as ornate as the outside, carefully detailed with a green velvet, which was patterned with little white swans. At the bottom of it lay a vial, it was tiny, and filled with grey sand.

Ashes.

Charles thought carefully, ashes were supposed to be scattered, maybe they weren’t supposed to be in the box?

“Maybe that’s why she’s stuck here? Ashes aren’t meant to be just chucked in a box are they?”

Edwin nodded, picking up the vial “worth a try, we can’t let too much out though, they’re probably here for sentimental reasons, especially since they’ve not been scattered”

As soon as they’d tipped the ashes onto the street below the music box stopped abruptly, time to leave.

Edwin shrugged “anticlimactic, yet successful, come along Charles”

He paused “are you alright? You’re quiet”

“Yeah, fine”

His partner looked at him quizzically.

“I’ll talk about it when I’m ready, alright?”

“Alright” Edwin placed a hand on his back. “Whatever it is, it’s alright.”

“Yeah” he mumbled dismissively, strolling through the mirror on the wall by the door.

Weeks passed, Edwin’s concern grew massively. Charles was quiet around him most of the time nowadays, he spoke to the others as he usually did. In cases he seemed to talk more, but when silence fell he was preoccupied. This particular evening, Edwin had cornered him near the bookshelves.

“Something is on your mind”

“No, I’m just…tired”

Edwin raised an eyebrow, Charles withered slightly beneath his gaze, doing his best to run from his partner's chasing eye.

“You can tell me anything you know” he sighed, leaving Charles be in the corner, and dropping onto the sofa, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his expression expectant.

“I know- I just-“ Charles sat next to him, his fists gripping at the material of his trousers.

“If this is about what I said-“

“It is.”

“You’re not obliged to actually figure it out, I just needed you to know” he placed a hand on Charles’ arm, doing his best to reassure him that he was safe, and that everything was fine.

“I already figured it out.”

Edwin paused, his fists meeting in front of him and pressing together, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He cleared his throat.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Charles nodded, he took a sharp intake of breath, turning to face his partner, Edwin’s eyes were glassy, his own were pouring silently with tears “I think..”

Three loud thumps on the door.

Edwin cleared his throat and hastily wiped his eyes with the wisteria patterned handkerchief tucked into his inside pocket. Giving Charles his own time to pull himself together.

“Come in”

A woman’s head poked round the door, her blonde hair following in thick golden waves.

“Dead boy detectives?” Her eyes danced between the two.

Charles nodded “that’s us, what can we do for you?”

The woman hesitated.

“I need you to steal a painting”

The two of them blinked and turned to look at eachother.

“Pardon?”

Edwins bewildered tone made Charles chuckle to himself. The woman repeated what she had said.

“From where?”

The rest of the woman’s body entered the room, she was dressed extravagantly, she looked like a 70s hippie who had access to an IOS ecosystem.

“There’s an art gallery, just down the road, and this one painting, well it’s mine, and it’s the last thing I painted before I died. And that bitch nicked it”

The boys looked at eachother.

Art heist first, feelings later.

Three of them stood around the table, Crystal, Edwin and Charles. All crowded around the plans they had managed to acquire from the internet. Edwin was explaining in detail how they would get in, and whilst he was listening, Charles briefly took a moment to admire the way he moved so naturally when he was in the zone.

11PM

The three of them approached the steps to the gallery, there wasn’t any physical security, but there was definitely CCTV, the signs said so.

“You’re 100% about this plan, Edwin?”

Crystal looked at the boy quizzically, slightly worried something would go severely wrong.

“95%, it’s good to leave a margin for error, and besides, it’s the only plan we’ve got”

Crystal shrugged, still apparently sceptical but she still managed to use her psychic things to overtake the cameras. Which was a little bit odd, because cameras don’t have minds. But they didn’t have time to question it.

Charles and Edwin slipped easily through the wall, whilst they couldn’t be seen on camera, a floating stolen painting definitely could be.

He looked around, peering at the paintings in low light.

“Oi Edwin, what did she say it looks like again?”

“Alls i remember is that it is blue, and yellow and swirly and has cars”

Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like this fuck off massive one in the corner”

Edwin turned

“Oh yes, that one” he said, half heartedly cheerful

It took them half an hour to smuggle the painting through the fire exit, it was taller than both of them, and just slightly more narrow than the door, once they were far away enough Crystal dropped the cameras back down, gasping for air. It had clearly taken a lot out of her. The two of them walked her home, hoping she didn’t faint from exhaustion on the way before they returned the painting to the grave of the ghost they had stolen it for.

Once they were back in the office the two of them celebrated, another successful case, recently they had both learnt the art of fist bumps.

After a little while of sorting paperwork, (and Charles recounting the case to be much more epic than it actually was) the two of them settled in front of the laptop, excited to continue with their most recent show. Edwin wasn’t really watching, he was sort of preoccupied with what he and Charles had almost discussed yesterday evening. Was Charles okay? Like at all? In love with him or not Charles was important.

He leant forward, pausing the episode.

Charles looked at him.

“About last night-“

His partner's eyes averted, looking anywhere he could.

“Yeah..”

“You never finished what you were going to say.”

Charles nodded, breathing deeply. “I figured it out..I- well I think I did anyway.”

“Your verdict?” Edwin prompted, gentle as always.

“I want to try. I just wish it was easy, I wish we could be easy”

“We never have been, have we?”

He laughed and shook his head. Edwin was right, the two of them were never easy, every turn was a challenge or an obstacle. And he was okay with that, so long as it meant he could be with his best mate.

“If you are ready, we can try, if not, I will be here, mainly because I don’t want to leave and also because I can’t”

Charles nodded “we can try, slow yeah?”

“So, what would we call this, trying thing?”

“Whatever we call it, us is us”

Edwin smiled, holding his hand out.

Charles took it.

“That was well cheesy by the way” he added, squeezing Edwin’s hand.

He chuckled, nudging him. “Get lost”

Weeks followed, the agency had been relatively quiet lately, Crystal was at school, and the night nurse was on some errand or another. The two of them lay on the small area of grass not too far from the office, Edwin had propped himself up on Charles’ legs, reading one of the books he’d received for his birthday. Charles had decided most recently that instead of doing his own thing he’d watch Edwin read. He liked the way his eyes travelled the paper with such intrigue, and the way his brows furrowed when he’d come across something particularly interesting.

Recently, Edwin had taken up some informalities, particularly the contraction of Charles’ name. He’d never really liked the name Charlie, thought it was too childish, too soft and careful for him. But he’d grown to appreciate it, it didn’t change him after all.

Edwin had also taken up things like ‘love’ and sometimes flitted between calling him his partner or his ‘other half’ when referring to him with clients. Each time he did these things Charles found his heart thudding, faster than if he’d have been sprinting. They hadn’t kissed yet. Each time they got close they were interrupted, either by their own nerves or someone coming through the door.

He poked at his partner, knowing full well that he was somehow ticklish even in his ghostly state. Edwin squirmed, looking over at him.

“Any good?” Charles nodded towards the book

“Mhm” Edwin nodded, settling back down to continue.

“Which one is this again?”

“Wuthering heights”

He nodded, deeming it stuffy and boring, it sounded like some sort of snobby gated community. Edwin settled back down, entirely absorbed in the story. Charles himself continued to look around, the World Cup was on later, and he could already hear the chants in the pub a street over.

A short while later he found himself rather bored, everyone seemed to have gone inside to watch the football or disappeared in some way from around them.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance of a walk? My legs have gone dead”

“Your legs cannot go dead Charles, because you are dead”

“Yeah well, I’m bored, please can we go and do something?”

Edwin closed his book and sat up, looking at him.

“Like what?”

“Go for a walk, go and watch the match, snog in the board game cupboard, I’m not fussed”

Edwin swatted at him, missing and quickly being parried with a playful shove.

“You come up with something then Mr Prim and Proper”

“I’d say we could go and watch the match, but I guarantee everyone in there is completely blotto”

Charles laughed through his nose “blotto?”

“You know what I mean.”

He hummed in response, spreading out on the grass to look at the gradually darkening sky. He thought for a moment about the past few weeks, and how he’d been happier since he’d been able to be truthful about his feelings. Charles turned his head, observing as his partner watched the people chanting in the street, it must be half time he thought, tracing Edwin’s face with his eyes.

He liked the way that his partner didn’t seem to mind at all.

Then he heard something.

A little respect by erasure, absolutely blasting from someone’s upstairs window.

He grinned and pulled Edwin to stand with him, whilst it wasn’t his usual genre, it was still a tune.

“What on earth are you doing?” Edwin scuttled to his feet, laughing as Charles danced carelessly and admittedly with no skill whatsoever.

“Dancing, try it!”

“Respectfully love, that is not dancing”

He grinned.

“Well if you’re so good, teach me”

Edwin arches his eyebrow, a playful smirk twitching at his lips. Before he could think Charles was swept into a very well choreographed dance, and whilst it was old fashioned, it was fast paced and it was fun.

He laughed, allowing himself to be swung around. One of his partners hands was resting on his waist, the other had taken his own hand. The two of them messed around on the small area of green for a while before they collapsed into fits of giggles, somehow out of breath with their lack of lungs.

“That..” he gasped “was mint”

Edwin laughed, slinging his arm around Charles’ shoulder. He wasn’t stiff anymore, he was still proper and neat, but he was casual now.

The two of them walked the short distance home, playfully bickering despite being hand in hand. He liked that ghosts could feel other ghosts, he liked that he got to be real and alive with Edwin, even if it was short lived.

[redheadspark]

hello there i wanted to request #4 with ACOTAR Azriel? love u !!!

A/N - How cute for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Join Me?

Summary - Tending to the sickly Shadowsinger was no easy taste, unless it was his mate.

Warnings - Just some fluff!

“Thank you again for the dinner, Elaine.  Sorry we missed your dinner party—“

“It’s okay!  I know how busy you two are, no wonder Az got sick from working too much! Just make sure Azriel gets something to eat, okay?”

“Will do!”

You waved goodbye as Elaine walked out of the townhouse, her mate Lucien waiting for her by the front gate with a tip of his hat to you.  You waved, watching Elaine link with her mate’s arm as they walked down the cobbled street.  Sighing, you closed the front door of the townhouse and looked down the hallway, into the spare bedroom that was on the first floor.  

Azriel of course was sick, but he wasn’t going to say he was.  Being the stubborn Shadowsinger that he was, he worked day and night for the past two weeks with missions that he completed.  But because of that, there was no time for him to unwind and calm down, to get the proper rest that he knew he needed.  Sure enough, a day prior, he came down with a nasty stomach bug and was bed ridden, not to mention the stress he was having made the sickness much worse. 

Madja came over to check on him as soon as you sent for her, seeing him on the bed and look pale as a sheet she huffed at him.  After a few minutes of examining him, she spoke to you right outside the spare bedroom he was confided him.

“No work for him for the next week!  I’ll tell High Lord Rhysand if I must!  He may be a Spymaster, but he’s no God.”

Unfortunately, that meant you had to cancel the dinner party you were invited to by Elaine and Lucien.  You and Azriel were looking forward to it for weeks, knowing Elaine was an excellent cook and loved to host parties at her new little home.  You are glad that Elaine was understanding, binging over two plates for you and Azriel, along with a batch of homemade soup that would help with Azriel’s illness.  

Walking down the hallway, you already sensed Azriel’s stubbornness.  You’ve dealt with his stubbornness before, plenty of fights of being going into danger or taking missions that were a risk to his life.  There was never one time you would tell him he was pushing it too far or going beyond his limit, yet Azriel took those times to heart.  He was cruel or cold about it, yet he knew what he could handle.

So this time was new to him: being bedridden on Madja’s orders.  

You tapped the door, poking your head in and seeing Azriel perched up in one of the lounge chairs next to the bed.  He looked a bit better, the color was slowly coming back to his face and under his eyes. The sheets were already changed thanks to the magic of the Townhouse, looking tidy and neat as if no one was laying there.  But he was perched on the lounge chair next to the bed, two papers in hand and his eyes were scanning the writing.  Seeing him shirtless and in his gray sweatpants would have been lead to another kind of night for you two if he wasn’t sick, but that would have to be another time. You sighed, closed the door behind you and placing the tray of food on the dresser. 

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” You reminded your mate as he sighed and rubbed his temples briefly. 

“Madja told me to rest and put my legs up, not to be in bed,” He explained, though he saw you give him a hesitant look as he placed his papers down.  Holding out his hand, he gave you a soft smile, “Join me?”

“And have you get me sick?  Doubtful,” You replied, though seeing him sprawled out on the lounge chair was already temping since he was in his sweatpants.  He cocked his head at you, the smile he knew would tempt you was evident on his face as you finally rolled your eyes.  Walking over and taking his hand, he pulled you into his lap.  Tucking your feet under your, you eyed with with carefulness as your eyes scanned his face.

“You look better, my love,” You voiced to him, reaching up to trace his face with your fingers, “Although maybe this be a lesson to you to not overwork yourself,” 

“Lesson learned,” he replied, kissing the palm of your hand when he was next to his lips, “I feel as though I am no match for sickness and being bedridden like this.”

“Poor batboy, not knowing when you quit,” You teased, seeing him stick his tongue out at you while you giggled at him, “Be thankful that Madja is not the one to be tending to you here at home, or should I call her instead?”

“You wouldn’t dare do that to your mate!” Azriel said in a mocked challenged tone, you just smiling as he grinned widely, “I’ll be good, my love.  And yes, I shall ease up on my workload,”

“You better, I wish for my mate to be in good health always, for I don’t think I could ever be in this world without you,” you reminded him, making it sound light.  Yet Azriel read between the lines, even when you were trying to hide it.  

You knew the dangers that came with being with Azriel, the lingering thoughts that he may not come back to you if something went wrong on a mission or doing one of his spying duties.  You tried not to think about it a lot, but with a few close calls in the past and you thinking of the worst, you could only hope that you never had to be in this world without Azriel.  He brought so much love and peace for you, and you knew you brought the same for him.  

You two would be lost without each other.

Azriel cradled your face in his hands, you feeling the scars along your jawline and his palms against your neck as he stared at you intensely.  

“I’ll never leave you alone in this world, I swear to you,” he promised, then kissing your nose and cheeks with ease as you felt that promise deep in your core.  You then moved out of his hold and got the tray of food, walking back to sit in his lap again and see his eyes go rather large from the view of the food right under his nose.  

“You better be thankful that you have a loving mate that will be able to feed you,” You teased, taking the spoon in hand and scooping up a bit mouthful of the hearty soup.  Azriel, grinning like he won some kind of prize, leaned over to take the bite and swallow it down.  Watching him melt a bit from the taste and the sensation in his throat made you laugh.  

Caring for the deadly Shadowsinger may have ben terrifying to others, but it was another day as his mate for you.

The End.

June Spring Prompts