#leavers shirts

[aceofspades064]

Finished leavers shirts :3

[velmashaircut]

It’s day two of my holiday and I’m so bored. I’ve cleaned my room, cut my hair, continued reading Dracula but I feel so unfulfilled. I woke up at 12, ate lunch and realised I had nothing I wanted to do. I think I’ll just have to force myself back into my hobbies even if I don’t feel like doing them so I have something to do. I can’t hang out with my friends either because they still have exams and even when those exams are complete, it’s not like I can hang out with them everyday. I’ll probably start going on walks just to waste time.

I began applying for jobs but no one will hire me because I have no work experience, I tried applying for volunteering so I could get experience but there’s no spaces available anywhere. I’m offering unpaid labour and nobody wants it 😭. Im probably just going to try and fake having work experience and hope for the best.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Twisted Wonderland Characters Signing Your Shirt

So when I was in primary school, on the very last day of term, the year 6 leavers would sign each other's white school polo shirts with felt tips as a sort of parting gift before we all went our separate ways to secondary school. I thought it might be cool if the reader shared this tradition with her friends at NRC.

Warning: I write reader as female

I literally had no idea what to write for bat grandpa and Silver so I just didn’t write them. In return, I’ll add snippets of Trein, Crewel, Vargas and Sam

Word Count: 8k+

Masterlist

Despite the comfort you felt with your friends in Twisted Wonderland and the obvious collective effort that your fellow students showed in making you feel at home in this strange new world, sometimes it did strike you just how different your current abode was - well, barring the universal use of magic that was so common that even infants were capable of it, of course. Such instances when your geographical displacement was most apparent was when you were reminded that there seemed to be little to no shared holidays between your world and this. For example, whilst Halloween did exist here, the concept of Christmas, Easter and Valentine’s Day didn’t - and neither did Mother’s or Father’s Day or even the smaller holidays like International Best Friends’ Day. It made you wonder if this world had any holidays or traditions that yours didn’t. This exact conversation starter was how you found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor of Ramshackle with your fellow first year friends as you all discussed different traditions that you’ve all partaken in (when in fact you were supposed to be using this timeframe to be studying for an upcoming assessment). 

“You know,” you mused out loud, “my primary school had this tradition where on the very last day, all of the leavers would sign each others’ shirts.”

“Really?” Deuce looked at you with sparkling wide eyes, and leaned forward slightly, as if he was hanging onto every word you said and was careful that he would miss a single syllable that came out of your mouth despite sitting less than two feet away from you.

“Yep. It was basically as a parting momentum we’d give each other to show our support even if we are parting ways and may never see each other again. I still have mine hanging in my wardrobe at home. By the end of the day, it was covered in so many felt tip marks that it was more colourful than white,” you gave a nostalgic smile at the memory of your eleven year old self being surrounded by your laughing and tearful classmates as they decorated each other’s polo shirts (and even some a lot of skin) with well wishes, signatures and drawings that were partly sweet, partly adoringly offensive and partly completely random and out there that you had no idea of what to make of them. It did make you wonder how they were currently doing and then it hit you - you had no way of knowing. Atleast back home, whenever you found yourself revisiting your younger years, you had the ability of picking up your phone and finding out for yourself. But here - here in this world where your friends and family didn’t exist, where your life had about as much substance as a black hole until that fateful day you appeared in front of that dark mirror - you had absolutely no way of connecting to anyone you once knew. You didn’t even have any pictures or mementos from your world to remind yourself that they were even real to begin with. How long would you be able to cling on to your memories and -

“Y/N,” Jack's voice pierced through the blurry memories as sharply and swiftly as Rook’s arrow, shattering every thought like glass and every fragment of them fell and dissolved into nothing until you found yourself out of your head and sitting in your dorm’s living room floor with Grim on your lap and your friends nearby. His face contorted with concern the second he noticed your smile going from fond to bittersweet, “are you okay?”

Were you?

“I-”

“Why don’t we do that?” Epel blurted out.

You looked at him in confusion as Jack and Deuce glared at him for his interruption (but, honestly, you were very grateful for that), tilting your head to the side, “huh?”

“The-the shirt signing thing. I never did it when I left elementary. It sounds like fun?” he looked at the other boys, “whatdya fellas think?”

“I’m in,” Ace stretched out his arms.

“Me too,” Deuce said immediately after, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’ll-I’ll join in as well,” Jack stuttered out, “just ‘cause you guys are. Not-not because it sounds fun or anything, alright.”

“Hmm,” Sebek scoffed, crossing his arms and looking down on the rest of the group with an expression that says ‘I’m very much interested but I’m not going to say that because I’m a tsundere who pledges allegiance to my large commissioned portrait of Waka-sama every morning’, “I suppose these human customs seem adequate enough for me to partake in them. If at least to ensure that you do not tread on a path that could cause a disturbance to Lord Malleus, as is my duty as his knight.”

Ace rolled his eyes, “sure, pal.”

“Everyone wait,” Grim yelled out, “I should go first. As Y/N is my minion, she should receive the honour of getting The Great Grim’s mark first.”

When Ace and Deuce looked like they were about to argue, you silenced them with an, “alright, Grim, you can go first.”

GRIM

Since he’s so small, he couldn’t really reach that high, even though you were sitting down

He signed ‘to my favourite minion, from the great grim. P.S buy me more tuna’ at the bottom of your shirt near the hem of your shirt

He added a little simple drawing of a fish and a doodle of a small tin of tuna next to his words

Since he didn’t wear any clothes, you signed your own name with a cute little heart on the dangly end of the ribbon that made up the bow around his neck.

ACE TRAPPOLA

He and Deuce played rock, paper, scissors to decide who should go next

He had to be reminded by everyone not to write anything too big

“That means that I can barely write anything. You’re so short and small that half a sentence would take up half of your shirt,” he snarks with a teasing grin.

Deuce hit him over the head with an unimpressed look for that one

Good boy, Deuce

He uses one of his red pens to sign ‘your best friend and favourite person in the whole world who you like more than Deuce, Ace Trappola’ with a smiley face and a doodle of the ace of hearts card under under your collar, near your chest area before surveying his masterpiece and looking up at you with a smug wink

Deuce, hit him again

You signed your own name on his collar with a heart next to it

“A heart?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, “are you trying to tell me something, prefect?”

DEUCE!

DEUCE SPADE

Baby boy is so scared

He’s so worried that he’ll ruin your shirt with something you won’t like that his hands are shaking

Protect him

After you reassure him that you’ll love whatever he does (Ace: not as much as mine, though 😏) he nods, eyes burning with determination as he braves himself and picks up a dark blue biro

He slowly and steadily writes out, in his neatest handwriting ‘you’re my best friend and I can’t imagine NRC without you. You always make me happy, Deuce Spade” with a little coloured-in spade doodle next to his name on the stomach part of your shirt (because the mere notion of idea of going any higher made his head spin and face burn)

The entire time he was diligently writing, he was looking at his handiwork with the most concentrated expression you had seen, with his eyebrows furrowed with great attention and care whilst his tongue stuck out slightly from between his teeth

He does know that this is supposed to be a fun little activity, right? He knows that he’s not signing his last will and testament (of course he does. In his mind, this was way more important)

“That’s great, Deuce. I love it.” you smiled softly at him when he finished

He perks up at the praise before blushing and looked down, his pink face conveying how bashfully pleased he was that he didn’t mess up

He’s so going to tell his mother about this during their nightly phone calls

“Thank you, Y/N,” he shyly smiles back at you

You place your own signature on his shirt as he looks on at you with still pink cheeks

You beam at him after punctuating your name with a small little hear

“You didn’t say anything about miiinnee ~”

FOR GOD’S SAKE, ACE-

JACK HOWL

No, his tail is most definitely not wagging in excitement when he approaches you with a gel pen in hand so shut up

No one said a word, wolfy

Writes a swift ‘keep up the good work. Jack Howl’

A simple wolf, our Jack is

Please ignore the red blossoming along his cheeks and nose and the still wagging tail as he doodles a little cactus next to his name

You give him a smile as you sign your own name on his shirt and add a little smiley face next to it

You can still see some red peeking out from under his hand as he covers the lower half of his face with his palm, his tail wagging like crazy 

You swear that you can hear a faint little “thank you”

EPEL FELMIER

“Hell, yeah! Move aside, losers, it’s my turn!”

*coughs and clears throat* “ahem, I mean - it’s my turn to sign your shirt, prefect.”

Uses his dark purple gel pen to sign his name and draws an apple next to it

Pretends that he isn’t elated to see your name on his shirt

Is planning to proudly wear that shirt to Vil’s etiquette lessons, propriety be damned

Is also whooping and punching the air the second he’s out of sight

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

He strides towards you all stiff and square-shouldered

Signs ‘Sebek Zigvolt, loyal knight and retainer of His Glorious Majesty Lord Malleus, the beloved and awe-inspiring fae prince of the noble kingdom of Briar Valley. It is he who I pledge my eternal loyalty and allegiance to and it is my greatest honour to die in his name.”

You had to stop him from writing a whole essay on your shirt (complete with book references) about the might of the esteemed prince who you once found sulking in the woods because Lilia ate all of his ice cream during a Call of Duty session with Idia

He loudly explains to you that it is of poor taste to allow a human to sully the uniform of the great Waka-sama’s dorm as it is unheard of for a knight to appear as anything less of perfection as his attire reflects the power of his future king-

Uh, alright crocodile boy but why are you leaning closer to me?

You sign your name really small on his shirt so that it’s not immediately visible and only those who know where it is find it.

He doesn’t know why his heart is beating much faster at the sight of this magicless human’s name. Clearly he has contracted an illness. Quick, he must go to Lilia at once and remedy the issue lest Lord Malleus finds out.

CATER DIAMOND

Once you bid your friends farewell, you, Grim, Ace and Deuce, make your way to Heartslabyul for that afternoon’s unbirthday party

The students were still setting up the tables and food in the rose garden so the dorm leader and vice dorm leader weren’t present

Cater senses the four of you approaching as he finishes painting the last of the roses red and his eyes immediately dart to your shirt

“Hey, Y/N-chan. What’s with the get-up?”

You explain how it’s a tradition in your world to sign each other’s shirts and how your friends wanted to do it for themselves

“Aww, no fair,” he pouts at you, “Cay-kun wants to join in on the fun too.”

You offer him a pen, “you’re more than welcome to add your signature, Cater-senpai.”

He grins at you and writes a funky ‘Cater Diamond’ with doodles of the cartoony smiling four diamonds on his phone case on your shirt. Underneath his name he adds his magicam and other social media usernames.

“Well, Y/N-chan?” he sing-songs, twirling the pen around with his index and middle fingers the same way a drummer would a drumstick, “what do you think?”

“I love it, Cater-senpai,” you reply happily

He joyfully pats your head, “anything for my favourite underclassman”

Ace and Deuce: we’re here too, you know 🧍🧍

“Now smile for the camera,” he chirps, holding out his phone to take a selfie of him gesturing towards the area of your shirt with his name on it 

After you quickly jot down your own name on his collar before running off to help with the party preparations, he takes a selfie of himself and then spends a bit more time gazing upon your smiling face on his screen before making a post

#HangingOutWithMyFavouriteUnderclassmen #ShesTheBest #WhenACuteGirlAsksYouToSignSomethingYouSignIt #SheLooksReallyPrettyWithMyNameOnHerThough #ImNeverWashingThisShirtAgain

TREY CLOVER

Comes out before Riddle to make sure that everything is set

And to see if you’re Ace and Deuce are here

Immediately notices the shirt and wants in on it

Uses one of his edible pens that he just happens to be carrying to write his name with a cupcake and clover drawn next to it

“Here you go, Y/N,” he says as he gives you the ‘I’m the responsible and reliable senpai even though you and I both very well know that I am capable of causing the most chaos here’ smile

Pats your head after you return the favour

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

You’re the first thing Riddle notices the moment he enters

Has to take a second to gather his bearings when he sees you smiling when you notice his arrival

At this point he’s gotten used to the teasing smile Cater shoots him when he’s in your proximity but that doesn’t mean he has to DO IT EVERY TIME HE’S GOT A REPUTATION

In Riddle’s head: Y/N’s here 😊 I must greet her with the grace every gentleman must have when they meet a lovely lady like her. Perhaps I should point out how wonderful it is for her to join us. Or personally escort her to a seat as I comment on how happy her presence here has made me.

What Riddle says: What has happened to your shirt 🤨

Don’t worry, Riddle. You tried your best

You apologetically tell him how it’s your fault since Ace and Deuce were trying to cheer you up and then Cater and Trey wanted to join them so you’ll take full responsibility if they broke any rules

“Well,” Riddle states primly, “there’s no rule forbidding it but bear in mind that I shall not accept you making a habit of unkempt attire. As Heartslabyul students and prefects both you and them are expected to possess a certain standard of decorum.”

“Does that decorum include personally fixing the prefect's tie in the middle of a busy public corridor in broad daylight?” Ace asks innocently

Riddle shoots him a sharp glare as he puffs up with anger

Before he can open his mouth, Trey swoops in to save Ace’s neck and Riddle’s vocal chords as he suggests that the unbirthday party should commence and then tells Cater to stop filming and put his phone down

The entire time you swear that you can feel someone gazing at you when you aren’t watching but every time to turn to look in Riddle’s direction, you notice that he’s looking elsewhere whilst Cater and Trey give each other knowing looks

When everyone has finished cleaning up afterwards, Riddle catches you and Grim on your way back and politely asks you if you could join him in the common room

You agree and set Grim down so he can trouble Ace and Deuce

When you get there he stiffly stammers something about wanting to know more about the shirt situation

How someone can be both poised and shy you have no idea but it’s adorably endearing

After you explained how it’s something friends do back in your world, he gets this contemplative look on his face as he looks down and twiddles his fingers before shyly asking if it would be alright if you permitted him to sign your shirt as well

Once you give an enthusiastic reply he gets out one of his fancy rich boy fountain pens and elegantly signs his name somewhere near your shoulder blades, his face burning the entire time

“If it’s alright with you, I could do the same back,” you offered, “I signed everyone else’s shirts but since you’re the dorm leader, I’d understand that it would be improper for me to-”

“No!” he blurts out, startling both you and himself. The red hue on his face gets even darker once he realised what he had just done and clears his throat before continuing in a tone that is much more controlled yet still a tad shaky, “no, I-I’d be honoured if you wanted to do so.”

So you take the pen he offered you from his outstretched hand and sign your name on his collar like you did the others

“Well, I’ll see you soon, Riddle-senpai. I hope you take care,” you smile at him before bowing your head slightly and walking out of the room to rescue Heartslabyul from whatever Grim had done

Riddle stared at the doorway from which you left from for a considerable amount of time before looking down at the hand where your fingers grazed his when you reached for the pen

He smiled slightly before shaking his head and composing himself. Then he marched out to supervise his dormmates

RUGGIE BUCCHI

This sneaky little hyena catches you during one of his errands 

He finds you on his way to deliver lunch to a certain lazy lion

Was about to pawn off the job to you but catches the names on your shirt before he hears a lightbulb go off in his head

“Shi shi shi. It seems like our prefect has been busy.”

Without even asking for an explanation, he asks if he could sign it

Throws in some hopeful puppy eyes to ensure you say yes

You don’t need to do that Ruggie. To quote my non-twst friend when I showed hyena boy’s picture to her: I would commit arson for you

Honestly he’s only doing this 60% because he wants to and 40% because he knows that it would annoy Leona

You hand him the pen you have been carrying and he scribbles on his name with a picture of a sprinkle covered doughnut next to it

He then asks you to do the same to him

You comply, noticing how his tails wags excitedly behind him

You then offer to bring Leona his lunch to give him a break, which he hastily agreed to 

After you leave he wonders if he could sell this shirt to one of your simps before immediately scrapping that idea since he decides it’s not worth it this time

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

It took you a while to shake him ‘awake’

I say ‘awake’ in inverted commas because the second he hears footsteps in the botanic garden his ears perk up and he tries to determine if the scent from the incoming person is yours. If it is, he’s wide awake

But he’s also a jerk so he’s not going to make this easy for you

He’s internally smirking whenever he hears you’re irritated little huffs as you try to wake him up

The he considers that he should maybe throw you a bone so he opens his eyes only to see the names of your first year friends , those uptight Heartslabyul students and his own second in command on you

Something about that does not sit right with him and he has to fight back a possessive growl

At least he can’t see the names of that stuck up beauty queen and - god forbid - that stupid lizard

“You some to have something on you, Herbivore,” he drawls as he lazily flicks his eyes towards your face

Like you did to everyone else, to explain how it’s a thing in your world to sign your classmates’ shirts

At this he gets up, whilst maintaining eye contact, and takes one stride so that he’s right in front of you

Excuse me sir, we like to respect personal space here

Unless you’re a Twisted Wonderland character then no we don’t

“Does that mean you marked other people with your name?” he asks you with a tone that you can’t quite put your finger on but can definitely tell has hints of annoyance

You just look at him in silence, completely off guard by his proximity and out of the blue question

“Well?” he leans down closer to you

“Oh, um, yeah. I guess”

He just hums in reply before holding out his palm

You just look down at it before giving him a perplexed look

“Pen,” he says, “now.”

You place your pen in his hand before he immediately crouches down and writes ‘LEONA KINGSCHOLAR’ in block letters that seemed to be a bit larger than everyone else’s names

He holds out your pen, “your turn.”

“Oh, okay”

The minute you finish writing your name you he stands back up at his full height, green eyes gleaming with mirth

“You know, Herbivore,” he holds up your chin so you get a full view of his smirking face, “I can think of plenty of other ways I could mark my territory if you're ever up for it.”

He gives your head a pat, remarking “you know where to find me” before yawning and sauntering off to god knows where with one hand in the front pocket of his trousers and his tail swinging lazily behind him

…

You just blink at his retreating figure in confusion

“Oookaayy,” you drone out to yourself and then you make your way out of Savanaclaw as Grim mutters something about weird predators

JADE AND FLOYD LEECH

“KOEBI-CHAN! :D” 

Oh dear, it seems as if Floyd has found you for his daily accosting

You know that there is no way you can run from an eel so you just brace yourself with closed eyes as you hear the grunts, groans and shouts of several students being pushed out of the way as Floyd makes his way towards you for his completely necessary squeezing the life out of you hugging session

You open your eyes the second you feel those arms glomp you as you give the eel twin a smile, “hello, Floyd-senpai.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Jade casually strolling along the path that his brother had cleared with a pleasant smile on his face, completely ignoring the still groaning students on the corridor’s floor

“Good afternoon, dear prefect,” he greets you politely as you feel Floyds arms wrap tighter around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your neck, “I see that you’ve run into quite a few students on your way here - if your shirt is anything to go by.”

“Huh,” Floyd lets go of you and notices Riddle’s name at the back of your shirt. He then turns you around to inspect the front of your shirt only to be met with the names of all of these bottom feeders 

“Hey,” he pouts at you accusingly, crossing his arms in displeasure, “how come koebi-chan let goldfish and crabby and sea lion and all these other fish write all over her and not us. I wanna write on koebi-chan too.”

Jade gave a fond sigh at his brother’s whining before turning to you with a gentlemanly smile that barely concealed the grin of a predator, “I must say, dear prefect, I’ve got to agree with my brother here. It does seem very unfair for you to allow others to enjoy this event and not us. I feel rather hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Floyd nods, “koebi-chan should let us write on her.”

“And what luck,” Jade piped up, taking a pen out of his pocket (though you had the strange suspicion that it was used less for writing and more for some weird torture technique that he and his brother liked to dish out), “it appears that I have a pen in my possession. Now, you will allow us to do so, right prefect?”

You knew for a fact that even if your brain decided to take a holiday and leave you to enter the boundless void of nothingness that inhabited your mental stability you would not even think to refuse him

“Alright then,” you said slowly and both of their faces lit up

“Me first, me first,” Floyd gleefully snatched the pen from his twin’s hand and bounded over to you, writing his name in big bold letters on your right sleeve. Underneath it he drew a picture of his eel form and a cartoony shrimp with arrows pointing towards both figures saying ‘ME!! :)’ AND “SHRIMPY!”

Jade then took the pen from his brother and wrote his own name on your left sleeve with a drawing of an anatomy correct shiitake mushroom under it. He then labeled different the different structures with their biologically correct scientific names

“Now write on us,” Floyd demanded, so you took Jade’s pen and did just that.

After he pocketed his pen, he turned to the other eel with a mischievous grin, “You know, Floyd. I believe Azul would love to see our dear prefect. What do you think?”

Floyd matched his brother’s expression with an even more unhinged one of his own, “yes, yes. Let’s go.”

And with that, the both of them each take a firm hold of each one of your shoulders and began to stir you to the Mostro Lounge, paying no attention to Grim, who was yelling at them about how it was his lunch time

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Due to spending almost his entire life with the Leech twins, Azul was fairly accustomed to their antics - which was why he didn’t seem the least bit perturbed to the sound of the door to the VIP room slamming against the wall and Floyd’s cheerful voice loudly exclaiming “WE’RE HERE”. 

He just sighed and continued to finish the sentence he was writing before looking up to greet him when he did a double take when he sway you’re slightly embarrassed self give a small smile and wave from where Floyd had you rooted with the way his arm rested over your shoulders

“Ah yes, Floyd what is-PREFECT??!!”

No his voice did not crack at the end, thank you very much

Jade gracefully stepped into the room, “Azul, Floyd and I were just admiring the prefect’s shirt and thought that you would appreciate it if we brought her here to show you ourselves.”

“Yes, what Jade said,'' Floyd nodded happily, “Jade and I both wrote our names on koebi-chan as well, see. And she wrote on us. Isn’t that great?”

Despite clearing his throat, Azul’s voice still was choked when he let out a surprised, “yes, that does look rather nice.”

The four of you spent the next minute standing in awkward silence. The eels were directing their shark-like grins on a red and embarrassed-looking Azul who seemed to look completely stumped and you just stood there having no idea what to do

“Well,” you started when the silence got too much, “I’m so sorry for barging in on you like this Azul-senpai and interrupting your work. It seems like you are really busy in the middle of something important so I’ll just head back and-”

“Wait, prefect,” Azul pushed his glasses up his nose and made his way towards you with a pen in hand, “If-if you would allow me, I would love to add my name onto your shirt.”

“Go right ahead,” you reply

Now he’s written his name hundreds of times, with the business that he runs, but for some reason him signing his name directly onto the clothing that your wearing has his heart leaping and twisting in ways that he’s never felt before

He’s lying. He’s felt that many, many times before and strangely every instance has occurred in your presence

Once he’s finished he gives you a look that very clearly expresses that he wants to ask you something

“I could sign your shirt as well if that’s okay?” you half offered half asked, thinking you might know what he wanted

He gives you a shocked look, a rosy hue painting his nose and cheeks, before clearing his throat once more

“I can’t say that I would mind terribly if you did that. Of course,” he gives you his signature businessman octopus grin, “if you would much rather sign your name on a contract, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

“Yeah, no thank you,” you deadpan. You turn around, “if that’s it then-”

“Wait,” he grabs ahold of your wrist, “actually prefect, I would very much like that.”

Your face softens and you sign your name onto his collar and left the fish mafia to practice their Godfather impressions or whatever they did behind closed doors when they weren’t dealing with the poor unfortunate souls of NRC

Unbeknownst to you, Azul immediately changed out of that shirt and kept it next to his third draft of that marriage contract he had been preparing

KALIM AL-ASIM

It was after you left Octavinelle when you remembered that Kalim had invited you to a party at Scarabia so off to his dorm you went

Almost ten seconds after you enter, you hear a shout of “Y/N!” coming from above you

“God?” you mutter under your breath as you look up and find the resident sunshine boy of the campus beaming down at you from his magic carpet

You happily give them both a joyful and hearty wave, “HI KALIM-SENPAI! HI CARPET!”

The two of them descend towards you. Kalim jumps off when it reaches a few centimetres above the ground before tackling you into a hug that was filled with unbridled merriment. Carpet, feeling lonely, latched onto the both of you as well, wrapping its tassels around the two of you and squeezed in its own version of a hug.

The two of you laughed at its enthusiasm until it let go and Kalim pulled back

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here,” his smile filled with pure sunshine never once left nor faltered as he looked at you with all of the joy in the world, “you’re going to love it. Everyone’s dancing and Jamil made kunafah which is really really tasty and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it and we can go for a magic carpet ride as well and - woah, your shirt looks so cool!”

You giggle at his amazement, “thank you, Kalim-senpai. In my home world, it’s a tradition to sign your classmates’ shirts when you leave school so

“Wait, you’re not leaving are you?” he gives you the saddest tearful golden retriever puppy-eyed look you had ever seen and you instantly hated yourself for being the monster that caused it, “please say you’re not. We haven’t even done half of the things I wanted to do with you. Please don’t say you’re going.”

“No, no, no,” you wave your hand erratically to show that you were most certainly not leaving, “I swear that I’m not going anywhere, Kalim-senpai. I just mentioned that to everyone and they wanted to sign my shirt for fun, that’s all. I’m staying right here, pinky promise.”

Of course, you had no way of leaving this world, what with the headmaster being a lazy idiot who makes empty promises but you didn’t say a word about that part

Kalim smiled and intertwined his pinky with your outstretched one

(Meanwhile carpet sulked because he wanted to join in on the pinky promise but he had no pinkies to promise with)

“So,” he gives you a hopeful look, “does that mean that I can sign as well?”

“Of course you can,” you smile at him.

He beams back at you, holds your hand and scampers towards his room

After bringing you inside, he rummages through his drawers until he procures some limited edition ultra deluxe sparkly golden sharpie pen that you know costs like enough to feed you for a week

He skips back towards you and signs ‘KALIM!’ all big and glittery on your back with a bunch of stars and hearts surrounding it and a smiley face to dot the exclamation mark

He then giddily hands you the pen and asks you to sign his clothes as well

You hesitate because there is no way that you are going to stain a piece of clothing that has enough zeros in its price to pay for your entire neighbourhood back home

But his hopeful/pleading face was too much for you to refuse so you did as you were asked

He now wants to buy an entire store’s worth of clothes just so that the two of you could write your names all over them

He also is so happy that he wants throw another party in your honour and hopefully make an event of having the two of you sign each others clothes

Not going to lie, he’ll probably commission the best painters in the Scalding Sands to make a giant portrait of his shirt so that he can hang it up in his rooms (no that’s not a typo) and show it to his parents, his siblings, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, his pet elephants, his pet peacocks, that tiger he was going to ask for his birthday…

He just wants to keep the memory of this moment forever

“Woah, Y/N, that looks great! Hey, I have a bunch of other clothes in my wardrobe that you can sign, I’ll go get them-”

You had to stop him before he did something that would make Jamil pop a blood vessel or consider alcoholism (again) so you asked him if he could take you to where Jamil was

Thankfully, he agreed and happily lead you to the kitchens

JAMIL VIPER

Jamil had no idea what to feel when Kalim barged into the kitchens

On the one hand, the Scarabia kitchens were his safe haven, the one place where he could be alone without his airheaded master coming in to cause further trouble due to the fact that Kalim is forbidden from stepping foot in it so his annoyance at seeing that bright face in here was more than welcome

On the other hand, however, Kalim had brought you along. The diamond among the soiled charcoal that were his peers, the coolness of his eyes that never failed to put him at ease no matter how unreasonable Kalim’s never ending laundry list of problems became so he did admit that he felt much more relieved when he saw your smiling face pop in to say hello in that enchantingly sweet lilt

But then Kalim dragged you in and showed off all of the names that had been written on your shirt for that bitter python of annoyance that he keeps chained and shackled in his gut to start coiling around in displeasure - only for it to start hissing and biting at his stomach when Kalim happily pointed out his own name standing out on your back and your name on his shirt, it’s teeth sinking into every vein it can find and contaminating his bloodstream with that pungent envy

On the outside, he regarded all of this with the same cool and unwavering expression he usually wore but on the inside he was raging at how happily you wore everyone’s names - how you wore Kalim’s name - whilst casting him to the shadows.

He simply reminded Kalim that he was not allowed in the kitchens and he had a party to host so it was best for him to leave

Kalim turned to you and was about to ask you to come with him when you told him that you’ll stay and help Jamil and you promise to dance with him later

“Alright then Y/N, see you later,” and then he skipped away, a cloud of sparkles and flowers following him

You approached Jamil, who appeared to be a bit more tense than usual and placed your hand on his shoulder

He immediately stopped, took a breath and turned to you

“You know,” you smiled at him, “I didn’t just come here to help you cook, though I would very much like to.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “is that so, prefect? Then pray tell, why did you come here.”

“Well, you see, all of my dear friends have decided to write their names on my shirt after I explained that it was a tradition where I’m from and now that I’m here, I realise that I’m one name short.”

“Is that true?” he mused, his lips twitching ever so slightly

You nodded with the gravitas of a judge giving a sentence, “yes, it is. And you see, Jamil-senpai, the person whose name that I’m talking about happens to be someone who would never go out of his way to do something that he thinks might not be wanted - even if the receiver would very much want it - so the idea of him offering his signature like everyone else seems to be out of the question.”

“What are you trying to say, prefect?” he sighed and put his head down so that he can hide his blush by pretending to rub his temples

“What I’m saying, Jamil-senpai, is that I would absolutely love it if you wrote your name on my shirt. It just doesn’t seem right without you and having you there would delight me to no end,” you reply, taking out the pen you’ve been carrying in your pocket and holding it out to him expectantly

‘How troublesome,’ he mentally sighs, though the thought was directed not towards you but to the pleasant feeling of warmth that enveloped him whenever you were near.

Regardless, he takes the pen and signs your shirt in a manner that appears to be annoyed and rushed but anyone can clearly see that the calligraphy of his name is definitely carefully thought out with strokes that look more like artwork than a teenage boy’s signature

“So, um,” you start, “you can say no if you’d like but would you like it if I signed yours back?”

He shrugged, “I see no reason why not?”

Don’t let his perpetually controlled voice fool you, he is internally punching the air and screaming with elation at the prospect to you placing your signature on him

Usually he would hate to have another's name anywhere near him. He was already cursed with the invisible shackles of the Al-Asim family, he didn’t want any other form of ownership to strip the miniscule amount of control he had in his life. However, the idea of him belonging to you only filled him with bliss instead of the accustomed disdain

‘Oh, prefect,’ he thought, internally smirking to himself as he continued with the preparations of Kalim’s feast with your assistance, ‘the next time you want me to leave my mark on you, I may not be as gentle.’

ROOK HUNT

You swear you take one step out of the mirror chamber and into the corridor before you find yourself face to face with Tamaki Suoh’s long lost cousin, who appeared out of frickin’ nowhere

“Petite mademoiselle trickster,” he cheers, “it has come to my attention that you are going around, letting the students write on your clothing and thus I must implore you to allow me the honour of joining them in this ceremonious ritual.”

Ritua - does he think that you’ve started a cult?!

Although, to be fair, that would be the least weirdest thing that’s happened in this school

You could’ve sworn you saw a bunch of Savanaclaw students standing in a circle and chanting so cultists are not completely out of line

And Crowley’s whole bird mask and making his students wear robes does seem very cult-y

Not to mention Sebek’s whole existence

Deciding to ignore the second part of Rook’s words (a standard procedure when it comes to students dealing with the huntsman) you hand him your pen

“Please allow me to write a sonnet so that I may pour out my awe at your splendorous beauty”

Yeah, you shut that one down hard

“Ah, I see. You’d much prefer a villanelle!”

No, Rook

A ballad or an Ode?

This is going to be another Sebek situation, isn’t it?

He did end up writing something

You must admit, you were impressed that he was able to conjure up a rhyming couplet dedicated to your beauty and general existence

In iambic pentameter no less

Now if only you could get him to stay still and quiet enough for you to write on your name

Great Seven, is he crying?

I’m flattered that there tears of joy but all I did was write my name on your shirt

I’m pretty sure my handwriting looked nicer on that contract that Leona turned to ash you really don’t need to praise the heavens for my existence 

Oh good, Vil-senpai, you’re here 

Your huntsman is broken

I know that he most probably came like this but it’s a bit unnerving

VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil was strutting through the hallways like NRC was a pageant and his catwalk was going to be crowned as the winner when he noticed Rook singing (yes, actually singing) your praises to you whilst you just looked at him like most people do

“Rook,” he called sharply, his high heels clicking through the corridor and the back of his royal purple robe effortlessly flaring out behind him, “I have been looking all over for you.”

“Roi du Poison!” he called out, “I was just engaging in the most splendid tradition with Petite mademoiselle trickster!”

“Ah, yes, Epel mentioned this during his etiquette lesson,” he looked down at the piece of your shirt that he was pinching between his perfectly manicured index finger and thumb, “whilst I understand the sentiment, I cannot believe you would allow these undeserving potatoes to tarnish your appearance like this.”

He huffs and pulls out a pen from one of his own pockets, “thankfully, I come prepared for situations like these. Honestly, what would you do without me? Be grateful that I’m here to save you from these unruly spudlings.”

He then signs his name onto you with complete precision, most probably from his years of experience as a renowned actor

“Now it would be unfitting for me as the dorm leader of Pomefiore to walk amongst these halls with ink stains on my uniform but I have a suitable substitute for you to use so that the criteria for your traditions have been met,” and with that he pressed an apple scented soft handkerchief into your palms

“Well,” he looked at you expectantly, “aren’t you going to sign it?”

“Oh, um, yes,” and you wrote your name on this obviously very expensive piece of cloth

“Wonderful,” Vil gave you an approving smile and took his handkerchief back before briskly turning around and walking away, calling out for his vice, “Rook!”

“Coming Roi du Poison!”

ORTHO SHROUD

You made your way to Ignihyde for your regularly scheduled gaming/anime watching session with the otaku shut in of the school

But of course you couldn’t do that without saying hi to his younger brother because not greeting Ortho when you enter the dorm of the Lord of the Underworld is a crime worthy of death

“Big sister Y/N!'' is the first thing you hear when you step into Idia’s dorm. The adorable android with flaming blue hair greeted you with stone-melting giddiness, “my scanners informed me that you have arrived! That’s great news! Big brother has been waiting for you to join us all day! In fact, my sensors picked up that his heart rate increased by 15% everytime I or he mentioned you!”

You giggled and pet the little robot’s head, “that’s nice, Ortho. Say, would you like to sign my shirt? All of my other friends have written their names on it and I would be very happy if you did too.”

“Write my name on big sister’s shirt?” Ortho’s eyes widened and he clapped with glee, “yes, yes, I would love to. Please wait a moment.”

You watched with part surprise part wonder as Ortho’s right hand transformed into a tiny laser

“Big brother has downloaded and programmed over a thousand different fonts into my database. Is there a style that you prefer?”

“Um, not really, Ortho,” you reply, “why don’t you choose?”

“Alright then, I’ll apply a random generator to select one for us.”

After doing that he floated towards you and wrote Ortho Shroud onto your back

Well, it was less ‘wrote’ and more lasered ink in straight lines to create letters the same way a laser printer would shoot ink to create an image

“Thank you, Ortho, I really appreciate it,” you smiled at him, but then frowned, “though I don’t know if I can return the favour to you the same way I did to everyone else since you’re made of metal.”

“Hehe, it’s okay big sister,” he happily replies, “I’m sure big brother would be more than happy to have you write to him instead.”

IDIA SHROUD

Y/N’S COMING Y/N’S COMING Y/N’S COMING

If anyone were to ask what our resident technological genius was thinking about for last twenty minutes it would be that

You’d think that him knowing you for more than a few weeks, you rescuing him from his own overblot and learning his entire tragic anime backstory would prepare him for every time you come near him but Idia doesn’t work on the logic of normies

Can you blame him? You were like ultra SSR tier and he was so below you it wasn’t funny

Hey, at least he managed to beat that weird french blond guy with the bow and arrow in the fight over who got to be the leader of the Y/N fan club 

So when you and his brother, his two favourite people in the world, come into the sanctuary of his room with blinding smiles his heart does a one hit k.o

And what’s worse is that his body pillow is all the way over there on the bed so he can’t even sink his face into it for the comfort of darkness

And then when Ortho comes and says that you want him to sign your shirt and then do the same to you?

Well, the pink that was forming at the tips of his hair has erupted his flaming locks into a bright pink fuschia 

What kind of shoujo manga otome game special edition event is this

Okay, cool, Idia, cool

He takes one peek at you and then immediately covers his face with his palms as his hair grows pinker if that’s even possible

You tell him that you understand if he’s uncomfortable so it’s okay if he doesn’t want to do it

But, you see Y/N, he does

He would very much like to take part in this event

But his social stats are lower than the bottom of the ocean

And he doesn’t think he’ll be able to level up in the next two or three decades at least 

Seeing his brother’s internal plight, Ortho huffs at him to just do it

So he does it

Because he wants to, alright - not-not because he’s being shamed by his little brother

So he picks up one of his pens with a miniature funko pop of his favourite anime character on it and hastily signs his name without even looking 

Thankfully he signed on a free space on your back otherwise he would never show you his face again

You ask him if he wants you to do the same to him and he passes out

Sigh, Ortho activate the defibrillators 

MALLEUS DRACONIA

You meet Tsunotarou after the sun has set on Twisted Wonderland and you invite him inside of Ramshackle so that the two of you can share some tea you’ve prepared before you can start your nightly walk in the woods

He politely questions you on the state of your dress and you laugh and tell him all about how you mentioned a tradition back in your home world to your friends and how that evolved into a sort of scavenger hunt for signatures 

As delighted as he is that you seem to be enjoying yourself and as thankful as he is that you were able to surround yourself with people who lift your spirits and ease your homesickness, he couldn’t help but feel a dark cloud of dread invading his mind and questioning whether or not this was another occasion that he was not invited to

“Tsunotarou?” you speak up, and hold up the pen that had accompanied you throughout this whole ordeal, “would you like to sign your name as well.”

He gives you a pleasant smile as he takes a sip of his tea, “I suppose I could, Child of Man. But that begs the question.”

You tilt your head in confusion and he internally laughs at how endearing you look, “what question?”

“On how you would like me to sign,” he gives you a smug little grin, “names are very important to the fae, you see. They’re very powerful, as well. In fact, a human giving a fae their name without thinking is often considered an act of foolishness (ouch, you could sense that subtle dig at your initial meeting but, in your defence you were new to this world and the concept of fairies and magic in general, and you didn’t even know the guy). So I would need to ask you if you would rather have me sign as the crown prince, Malleus Draconia or as the Tsunotarou that you met wandering around in the woods near your abode?”

“Is there really a difference?” you pose a question of your own, “Tsunotarou is Malleus and Malleus is Tsunotarou. To me both are the same. I know the rumours of you being powerful aren’t unfounded - I mean, you fixed the entire VDC venue in a second and called it child’s play so I can only imagine how strong you are. But the thing is, when I look at you, I don’t really see some crown prince who can destroy an island in the blink of an eye. All I see is a friend that I enjoy being in the company of - even if he can be a bit odd at times.”

“Odd? How brave of you to describe the future king in such a way. I was right in stating that you have no fear,” he teased you, eyes twinkling with mirth, “very well, I shall accept your request.”

He signs his name on you with the grace and elegance you’d expect a prince would have

You feel a slightly electric tingle from where the pen touches your skin through the fabric of your shirt and you can’t help but wonder if he had cast some sort of enchantment where his name was.

Once he has completed he hands you your pen back and you smile back at him, “I trust you, Tsunotarou. Not just because you’re my friend but also because you were one of the few who truly made me feel welcome even before we even knew each other. Actually, I trust you so much that-

You beckon him towards you, causing him to lean closer towards you. You take the pen and sign your name right on the first patch of white that you can see and reach

-that I would give you my name a hundred times without even a second of hesitation.”

ALRIGHT, TEACHER SNIPPETS: The next day, you take the shirt that you had worn the previous day and carry it around in your hands around campus so that you could ask the teachers to sign their names

PROFESSOR DIVUS CREWEL looks down at all of the names with disdain and mutters something about ‘rowdy mutts slobbering around his pup’ and something about ‘neutering’ before signing his name on your shirt with a flourish

PROFESSOR TREIN looks at you fondly and gives you one of his tea biscuits before signing his name. 

COACH ASHTON VARGAS gives you a booming laugh and a hair ruffle as he gladly signs his name all big and loud with several exclamation marks and some reminder to always work out

MR SAM argues with his friends from the other side on whether or not he should add their names as well. Instead he just signs his name and draws a cute little skull next to it

P.S. Please note that, if given the opportunity, any one of the NRC boys would very gladly and willingly write their names directly onto your skin with no hesitation whatsoever.

[sspadfoot]

I need a fanfic where the marauders are in a proper British Highschool.

I need them to have scraps during break or lunch.

I need them when they’re a bit older drinking and vaping at the park (don’t do that it’s bad for you, but the marauders don’t care).

I need the girls getting mad at sexist noncey teachers.

I need to see some beef (drama) going on.

Idc if I said this already, I NEED TO SEE THEM SCRAPPING PEOPLE.

I need to see them skipping lessons and running from SLT.

I need them to go to an open evening and show little kids around school.

I need them during sports day or them having a hole in their water bottle and squirting it at people.

I need an end of year trip and them during their GCSEs.

I NEED TO SEE WHAT LEAVERS SHIRTS THEY WOULD DESIGN.

Yk at this point I might just write it.

[czenzo]

Watch Out for Skull – Chapter 2

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

summary: Lucy takes on a cat-sitting job for a stranger, hoping for a quiet week in a nice London flat, with free food, no bills, and enough time to finish an art commission. But the cat is a menace, and the stranger’s friend is ridiculously charming—and a huge distraction.

rating: T words: 2,048

note: I visited home today, which meant I edited this chapter while being pestered by my own two cats, who are the most loveable, attention-seeking little creatures I've ever met. I'm starting to realise I may have taken more inspiration from them for Skull than I thought…

Lucy awoke not to birds chirping, nor an alarm beeping, but a single cat screaming so loud she feared for the window panes.

As Skull paused to catch his breath, Lucy closed her eyes in relief, but the sudden, sharp noise of something clattering to the floor had her shooting out from under the covers. She cautiously peered over the back of the sofa—it was pulled out into a bed, which wasn’t the comfiest, but it was preferable to sleeping in George’s—to inspect the damage.

A picture frame lay face down on the floor. Skull looked down on it from his vantage point on the cabinet.

Lucy’s silently repeated mantra of please don’t be shattered, please don’t be shattered must have been heard by some higher entity, because when she slowly picked the frame up she found it still intact, glass and all. The picture within was of two teenage boys grinning with their arms around each other. They wore matching white polo shirts graffitied with messages and doodles in a rainbow of colours, the school leavers' tradition, and Lucy promptly realised what the thinking cloth reminded her of. One of the boys was clearly George, with a rounder face and wider eyes, but the other boy, dark-haired with a dazzlingly bright smile, Lucy didn’t know.

“He’s bloody lanky,” she murmured as she carefully put the frame back in its place. She shoo-ed Skull off the cabinet and coaxed him towards the sofa bed, hoping to distract him with the plush, kneadable duvet. He fell right into her trap, leaving Lucy feeling rather proud of herself and free to enter the kitchen without the possibility of Skull destroying everything.

Lucy popped the kettle on and peered in every cupboard in search of the tea, then stumbled upon a treasure trove—English breakfast, Earl Grey, Green, oolong, matcha, chai, chamomile, Darjeeling, ginger, stacks upon stacks of colourful boxes, some describing flavours she’d never heard of in her life, in flat bags, pyramid bags, loose leaf, sachets…

The kettle pinged to signify it was ready. Overwhelmed by choice and reminding herself she had a whole week to be adventurous, Lucy plucked a bog-standard English breakfast bag from a box and plonked it into a mug adorned with He-Man’s face, accompanied by the caption ‘A good cup of tea is the colour of He-Man’.

As she reached for the kettle, the unmistakable sound of the front door’s handle rattling echoed through the flat.

The door creaked open.

Skull scuttled into the kitchen, wide-eyed and fur stood on end, and she picked him up to soothe him. She crept across the room, every step increasing her heart rate, then froze when she heard footfall heading her way.

Someone turned the corner and entered the kitchen.

It all happened rather quickly, really—Lucy had no choice but to act on instinct.

Skull screamed. Lucy held him out in front of her. Whatever words were about to come out of the intruder’s mouth were cut remarkably short as a flurry of paws and claws descended upon their face and torso.

The person stumbled backwards, pressing themself against the far wall, and when Lucy realised he looked oddly familiar she lowered the deadly feline in her hands.

“Oh my G—” He heaved, hand braced against his chest as he came down from his panic. “Christ. I think I almost had a heart attack.”

“Who are you?” Lucy demanded, raising Skull back up in the air between them, an unspoken but certain threat.

“Who are you?” the man replied, incredulous. “Where’s George?”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. The man straightened and pushed away from the wall. Upon seeing his height and long limbs to their full extent, Lucy realised where she knew him from. “Are you his friend?”

“I like to think so,” he said, with a smile Lucy assumed was supposed to be charming. “Again, apologies if I’m being rude, but who are you? Why are you in George’s flat?”

She gently wobbled Skull in the air, as if to prove her point. “I’m cat-sitting.”

The man’s face was blank for a moment, before lighting up in realisation. “Ahh, I see. I could’ve sworn his trip was next week… Though I’ve never been one for calendars and keeping on top of schedules. That’s George’s thing. I’m Lockwood,” he added, holding out a hand.

“Lucy.” Both of her hands were full of Skull, so she resorted to manoeuvring him to gently tap Lockwood’s hand with a paw.

Lockwood flinched away. “Please don’t. He hates me.”

“Sorry.” She gently lowered Skull to the floor with a frown. He had gone oddly quiet. “Is that why you couldn’t look after him, then?”

“Indeed it is. He’d claw my eyes out in my sleep, or piss in my shoes, or carry out some other dastardly act of torture,” he said, cautiously eyeing the mass circling Lucy’s legs. “This is George’s first trip away since taking him in. Skull can be a bit…” he gestured vaguely. “So he was a little concerned about finding the right person.”

Skull began to nibble on the hem of her sock. “I reckon I’ll be alright.”

“What a strange little creature,” Lockwood mused. He raised his eyebrows. “Well, sorry for disturbing you. And startling you.”

“Sorry for shoving an angry cat in your face,” Lucy added sheepishly.

“Water under the bridge, Lucy.” Lockwood smiled again, and this time, Lucy was unnerved to realise she did find it rather charming. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

He turned to head for the door.

Lucy's mouth opened before she could process her thoughts. “I just popped the kettle on, so you’re welcome to stay,” she called after him. “If you want.” There was also the matter of the Swiss roll, which she really didn’t want to go to waste. Ten in the morning was a reasonable time for cake, right?

Lockwood turned back around, smile widening.

–––

After the sofa had been restored to its original form, and the small coffee table was relocated in front of it to store their tea and cake, Lockwood fished the TV remote from the depths of the cushions (so that’s where it was hiding) in an act of familiarity that told Lucy he spent a lot of time here. He turned the TV on, then paused. It had been left on a documentary channel.

“Do you mind if we keep this on? I’m quite fond of whales.”

Lucy huffed a laugh into her mug. “Go for it.”

Lockwood inhaled the steam from his tea—he’d gone for the Earl Grey—and sank back into the cushions.

Skull jumped up into the space between them. In the blink of an eye, he aggressively batted Lockwood with a paw before hopping over Lucy’s lap and wedging himself in the small space between her thigh and the arm of the sofa.

“I’ve never done anything to hurt him, honest,” Lockwood insisted. “He knows I’m friends with George, and I’m here more often than my own home, yet he still treats me like I’m some…” he sipped his tea while he reached for a word. “Fiend.”

“You know George from school, then?” She took a bite of Swiss roll and almost failed to hold back a mortifying groan of pleasure; it was dangerously delicious.

Lockwood frowned, and Lucy nodded to the picture frame. He smiled in recognition. “Ah. Yes, I do. He got the highest grades in our year group. I managed to beat him in history, though.”

“You like history?”

“My parents did. I listened to enough of their passionate ramblings to give me a partial PhD.”

The past tense didn’t escape her notice; she quickly thought of something to back out of that line of conversation. “Do you know Holly, then? Holly Munro?”

Lockwood nodded as he balanced the plate of cake in his lap. He began to methodically unroll it, transforming the Swiss roll into a long Swiss snake, before ripping bites off bit by bit. “I do. Incredibly lovely woman. How do you know her?”

“She’s my flatmate,” Lucy said as she watched Lockwood rip off a small chunk of his cake snake and daintily pop it in his mouth. She wearily eyed her own slice and the giant bite taken out of it.

“I see. What’s she up to nowadays?”

“She writes for a fashion magazine.” The name escaped her, which came as no surprise. She had never considered spending her hard-earned money on a magazine that would try to tell her she couldn’t wear Converse with every single outfit (Holly did that more than enough). “She’s hoping to break into the design side of the industry, though. I don’t know much about fashion, but she seems to have a good eye for it.”

“Good for her,” Lockwood said fondly. It surprised her to hear how sincerely he said it; she hid her expression by taking another bite of cake. “What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Lucy hesitated. As nice as he seemed, Lockwood was still from Holly’s hoity-toity southern school. The chances of him not taking her career seriously was worryingly high—but damn it, for all intents and purposes, this was technically her flat for the week. She could chase him out with Skull if he turned out to be an arse.

She ran a reassuring hand through Skull’s fur as she responded. “I work part-time in a cafe to pay the bills, but I do art on the side. Hoping to eventually make that my full-time gig.”

“Really?” Lockwood’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and Lucy steeled herself for the incoming ridicule. “What kind of art do you make?”

Lucy’s hand stilled on Skull’s head. Here, she could feel the gentle rumbling of his quiet purrs. “I mostly work with acrylic paint. On canvas, usually. That’s what all my commissions are in, anyway. I sketch all the time, though. Helps clear my head.”

Lockwood’s eating slowed. “You take commissions?”

She nodded, feeling the beginnings of heat in her face. “I’m working on one now, actually, for a friend of Holly’s. I booked the week off to work on it while I’m here. George is letting me use his room as a makeshift studio.”

Lockwood’s gaze darted to the bedroom door.

“No,” Lucy said immediately. Startled by her own sudden brashness, she sank further into the sofa. “I don’t like people seeing my works-in-progress, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Lockwood said with a smile. “Though I am curious, what’s the subject?”

“A really flashy portrait. I get the impression he’s a bit of a snob, so—”

“Wait.” Lockwood paused. “Don’t tell me his name is Kipps.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes and ate the last of her slice. “How the hell did you figure that out?”

“He also went to the same school as us. A couple of year groups above, in the same one as Holly. We both went to fencing club, and my God, did he hold a grudge against me. You jokingly prod a man in the backside once…”

Lucy snorted, startling Skull and sending him racing into the kitchen.

“Shit,” she hissed, chasing after him. “Sorry, he just— he can’t go in— oh my God, stop squirming away!”

“It’s alright,” Lockwood called as she wrestled to keep Skull in her grasp. “I ought to get going now, anyway.”

When she finally succeeded in ushering Skull out of the kitchen, Lockwood was by the door, tugging on his long coat. “It was lovely meeting you, Lucy. Sorry again for the intrusion.”

“No worries, honestly.”

His slim fingers toyed with the hem of his coat. “Are you up to much this week?”

“Not really. Working on the commission, keeping this little menace in check…" She shrugged nonchalantly. "You’re welcome to swing by and watch whale documentaries any time.”

Skull watched the swaying coat with sharp slit pupils. Lockwood eyed him cautiously. “Something tells me he wouldn’t be very happy about that.”

In a movement that was becoming all too familiar now, Lucy stooped to bundle Skull into her arms. He dug his claws into her skin as a silent warning, or perhaps to convey his displeasure at being taken away from his prey. “He’ll have to suck it up.”

[strawberrybasilsorbet]

Jilytober Day 11

Missed yesterday, but I'm hoping to go back when I have time! In the meantime, here's my try at today's @jilytoberfest prompt:

October 11th Prompt: 🎶“Uncovering feelings unfound”🎶 - Out of the Blue by Katie Pruitt

Lily peeked out from behind the corner of the cricket shed before surreptitiously lighting her cigarette. Smoking wasn't prohibited, but her break wasn't officially supposed to start for another twenty minutes; it had only been thanks to some fairly pitiable wrangling — and a promise to take on her Friday shift — that Anne had agreed to cover the last hour so that Lily could decompress.

Closing her eyes, Lily leaned her head back against the shed and sunk to the ground, taking a long drag. It was only half-past noon, but some blokes had made a mess of one of her tables at the pub last night, and she hadn't finished closing until after one in the morning. She was already looking forward to sinking into bed.

In the distance, she heard a splash and a shout. It sounded like some kid had flipped his canoe again. She snickered a little; Anne would definitely be more annoyed about switching shifts now that she needed to get her hair wet.

It had been a long summer. Seventh year was going to be expensive — she'd need money to pay the application fees if she wanted to try for a Healing apprenticeship, to pick up a set of dress robes for the Leavers' Ball, to make a deposit on a flat rental after she finished Hogwarts — and Lily was trying to save as much as she could. Most mornings, she got on the bus for her day job at the nearest holiday camp, only to take the 5pm back to Cokeworth, eat a quick supper, and start her evening shift at Oscar's pub. Lily didn't mind hard work, but after six weeks of both jobs, she was beginning to feel run down.

At least she didn't have to spend much time at her own place. Between Tuney's sniping at home and Sev's lurking around the park, hoping she'd forget his horrible behavior at school now that his pack of Death Eater-wannabes wasn't around, it was hard to get a moment's peace.

She took another drag. Maybe she could talk Oscar into putting her on the early side tonight. He owed her, after the amount of mopping up she'd done yesterday...

"There you are, Evans!"

Lily jumped and opened her eyes. She thought she'd heard...but that made no sense...

"Potter?" She blinked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Improbably, James Potter — wearing a fairly convincing set of Muggle clothes, although his orange checkered polo shirt clashed horrendously with a pair of short, salmon-pink trousers — was striding toward her from the nearby woods, looking far too cheerful for the August heat. "Looking for you!" he said affably. "It seemed a nice day for a visit, and we'd been getting on well this summer, so I thought—"

"Potter, I'm at work." She stared in surprise.

He had the grace to turn a bit sheepish. "Oh, I'm sorry, Evans," he said, looking around. "Is now is a bad time?"

"No, I just—." Lily blushed. She'd given Potter her address earlier this summer — only so he could practice with the Muggle post, of course — and suddenly, she realized that she'd been writing him rather a lot.

Potter made a surprisingly charming pen friend. His letters, full of witty jokes and updates about his summer with his mates, were a welcome connection to the magical world and a relief from her tense avoidance of Sev and Tuney. More than once, she'd found herself looking forward to reading them as she came home from the pub, or scribbling quick replies by wandlight so she could get them in the mail before she caught the morning bus to camp.

"I just — how did you get here, anyway?"

"I stopped by your house," said James, shrugging. "Remember, you gave me your address? Someone — I think your mum? — answered the door and said that you were here." He still looked abashed. "I guess she might not have expected me to come by, but she said you might not be home until quite late, so I thought—"

"That's alright—"

"I can visit another day—"

"No, it's really okay, Potter," said Lily, who by now was quite red. Somehow, it wasn't the fact that Potter had showed up at her job, but the unflattering color of her uniform swimsuit that was on Lily's mind. She hadn't brushed her hair this morning, and she'd been sweating in the heat... "They're not too fussy here, and I'm basically on my break, anyway. It's nice to see you." She took another drag on her snuck cigarette, trying to look a bit less flustered. "You just showed up a bit out of the blue, that's all."

"Literally," said Potter, with a playful smile. He gestured toward the cloudless sky. "Stashed my broomstick in the trees back there."

She groaned theatrically at the terrible wordplay, knocking him with her shoulder. "Too scared to take the bus, Potter?"

"Oh, certainly. Petrol is too advanced for me, I'm still grasping bicycles."

She grinned. She knew perfectly well that Potter had likely passed his Muggle Studies exam with flying colors, as he did most of his others. "If you stick around until 5 o'clock, I'm happy to show you the ropes on my way back to Cokeworth."

"Gladly," said James. He peered curiously around the shed, taking in the archery setup, large lake, and row of cabins just beyond the cricket field. "What do you do here, anyway?"

"It's a holiday camp," Lily explained. "Families come to play games and get away from home for a bit during the summer."

"They don't holiday abroad?"

"God, you're posh." Lily rolled her eyes. "Why go to France, honestly, when you could stay at camp and win the donkey derby?"

"The what?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," said Lily.

"I have to see this. You run a donkey derby?"

"Not me personally," Lily said, giggling. "I'm hopeless with animals. I mostly serve lunch or take shifts dragging the little kids out of the lake."

"Why are the kids in the lake?"

"Oh, we do canoeing on one half and swimming on the other. Except sometimes the canoeing turns into swimming, because there's always some troublemakers flipping their boat on purpose."

James grinned. "Good for them."

"I'm appalled," Lily replied. "Are you trying to make my job harder, Potter?"

"In this weather?" said James. "Nah. I'm giving you an excuse to cool off, I expect."

James's eyes flickered to her swimsuit and quickly away. Lily swallowed, suddenly wishing she'd finished her shift after all. "I'm tied up tonight," she said, "but if you were to come back another day...if I took a night off from my evening job, I mean, and you wanted to go for a dip?"

James looked up. "Yeah," he said, a bit too eagerly. "Just because it's so hot, I mean," he said, smoothing out his tone. Lily noticed, amused, that his voice had suddenly got a bit deeper. She put out her cigarette, noticing that her earlier exhaustion had vanished.

"Well, alright then," she said. "It's a date." James gave her a dimpled smile. She hadn't noticed how sweet his smile was, before.

Where had it come from, this strange new fondness between them? Was it a fleeting thing, driven by Lily's exhaustion and James's boredom — destined to fall off with the autumn leaves when they returned to school, and to the old habits of their old stomping grounds? Or, maybe, could their letters be turning into something, well...a little bit more, maybe, lasting, or...

"Can anyone come to these holiday camps?" James asked, interrupting Lily's train of thought. "Because if donkey derbying is allowed, I want to kick Sirius's arse."

Lily threw her head back with a laugh. "With a day pass," she told him, "but if you've got a connection on the staff, she can probably sneak you in for free."

[ladylooch]

Begin Again - [Anthony Beauvillier]

A/N: First off, thank you for requesting someone new! It always pushes me as a writer and I love how detailed this request is! It helped guide me to this achey, beautiful love story below. Second, thank you to the answers and DMs I received to help me learn more about Tito! It helped me get a clear vision of him as a character. Could not have done this with out you! Third, this has been a long time coming! Thank you for your patience. I hope you love it!

Word Count: 2.7k

A white hot heat has settled into the crook of your elbow as you stand behind your soon to be sister-in-law. Your brother is tearfully saying his vows to her. You should be crying. You should be focused on the words he is promising to help him uphold in times of trouble. 

Instead, the leftover touch of Anthony Beauvillier haunts you.

How could you both have thought you could pretend to still be in love? Well, you weren’t pretending. But he was. The leaver. The “we need to talk” from three weeks ago. Those weren’t your words. The were his. And just like his touch, they haunt. In the middle of the night. When you’re on your way to work. When you picked him up from the airport and both agreed you would pretend to still be together. You both wanted your brother to be happy. Anthony is his childhood best friend and he’d kill Tito if he knew what had happened in New York three weeks ago. 

But what did happen? You were barely sure yourself.

All you knew is being with Anthony used to be so easy. Then it became unstable and lit on fire. Then it was at your feet in ruins before you could even grab the extinguisher to try to save it. Personally, you want to blame Lou Lamoriello. Isn’t it his fault for trading your ex boyfriend? Because everything was difficult after Anthony was traded. 

And when the season ended, those difficulties followed you around. What were you supposed to do? He didn’t seem to want you with him in Vancouver. Even when you visited, he was distant and distracted. This man that you once knew like your favorite shirt because a stranger. 

He pulled the plug. He asked for space. You gave it to him. He went back home. You stayed in New York in the apartment he had until September.

“You can stay as long as you need.” He had told you, not looking at your face because he couldn’t stand the tears glistening down your cheeks in the afternoon sun. 

“I don’t want to stay here.” You had bubbled through those tears. He nods.

“Until you get back from home then.” He gives a curt nod, licking his lips. “I’m here for a couple more days to tie up some things.” Like us? You can’t help but cry harder. “Mat said I could stay with him.” Your heart breaks all over again. Mat Barzal already knew? God, that makes it so real.

“You deserve so much better.” His heartbreaking whisper were the last words before he shut the door to leave.

But you didn’t want better. You wanted him.

Now here he was, standing across the other side of the aisle while your brother kissed his new bride. You come too, pulling your gaze away from Anthony to focus back on the love. You cheer with the rest of the crowd, then hand your new sister-in-law her gorgeous bouquet of white roses. Your smile is fake, you can feel it in the tight pinching of your cheeks. But it passes well enough.

You haven’t even recovered from his touch when you first walked down the aisle together, now his haunting is coming for your other arm. You smile, like you’re so sickeningly in love with each other. Anthony smiles back too. Only you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. Then you turn back towards the aisle where the photographer is taking pictures.

You pray the tears in your eyes pass as happy as you walk by your parents. 

- - -

Without alcohol, this night would have gone to shit immediately after the ceremony. Your new sister-in-law greeted you with her first words being “You and Tito are next!” You swayed in her arms at the painful reality of how untrue that is going to be. Anthony heard it too and he reached out to you for a moment, squeezing your hand in acknowledgement. You had ripped your hand away, unable to stand his comfort when he was the one who did this to you.

But then your good friend vodka found it’s way into your cup. And you forgot. Anthony found beer. And the alcohol took the painful edge off everything. You started talking. You laughed together. You told embarrassing stories of your brother together. It felt like normal and you chased that buzz with drink after drink until you found yourself in the bathroom, looking at your drunk reflection.

What are you doing, you wonder to yourself.

You watch your teeth tuck your bottom lip into your mouth. You swallow shakily, reaching for your glass and downing the rest of your drink too.

This is going to hurt you in the morning. Are your inner thoughts about the alcohol or him? 

Either way, you brush those thoughts to the side. It feels so good to pretend, to step out of the crunching heartache even if it is only for a few hours. You get to live in this other world, the one you wish you still had, where it makes sense when he brushes his fingers along your shoulder with his hand draped across the back of your chair. You shiver now in the cool bathroom, like he’s right there with you still, touching you, soothing your broken heart temporarily.

Your heels clack against the tile as you leave the bathroom, coming face to face with Anthony. You pull in a deep breath that raises your shoulders. He smiles gently, then glances over his shoulder to see if anyone is around. You’re alone.

“Are you doing okay?” His face is sincere, concerned. You refuse to believe it is pity. 

“Yeah. Great!” You respond brightly. 

“Okay. Um, they are insisting on playing our song.” You freeze. “I tried to play it off, but your brother is not listening. They literally have the DJ ready for the second we walk in.” If you never heard "My Best Friend” by Tim McGraw ever again, it would be too soon. You’re not sure you can do this. “I’m so sorry. This was dumb.” He whispers, seeing the way your face shatters at the mere thought of dancing with him to this song with what you are now. The song you always knew would be your first dance song.

“Yeah, but we are committed.”

“Maybe we should just tell them. Stop the whole thing…” The last thing you want to do is have the stabbing pain of heartbreak return. So your drunken self pushes you right along to just go with it a little longer.

“No, let’s tell them tomorrow. Like we planned.” He nods, looking over his shoulder at the large event space that seemingly awaits for us. “What do you want to do?”

“Dance with you one more time.” You respond quietly. Your fingers meet his, lacing together in the way you always appreciated- with perfect weight and grip. Anthony stares back at you, his gorgeous blue eyes drinking in your beautiful face. You think, for a moment, that he might lean in towards your face. His free fingers come to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. Then he cups your cheek for a moment before leading you into the room. 

The gentle stroking of guitar strings greets you both immediately. You smile to your family who is eagerly watching your approach.

“I hope y’all aren’t going to make us dance alone.” You tease easily. Anthony looks at you in awe as he leads you into his body to begin to sway back and forth.

“You’re so good at this.”

“Being an NHL girlfriend meant a lot of pretending.” He nods, knowing all the ways you’ve stood by his side the last few years, even if it was difficult for you with the spotlight.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You were always worth it.” You murmur, tears in your eyes. Anthony sees them, frowning deeper. He tugs you into his body, encouraging your head to rest against his. 

You feel every inch of his hand at the small of your back. Your eyes close as he uses it to pull you close. Then you both move together again like you have hundreds of times before. It’s almost like nothing is different. You lean your head into his, feeling the smoothness of his jaw against your temple. Your eyes closed as he sighs, turning his face into your hair. You can feel the inhale of him taking in your perfume. The one he picked out years ago on a shopping spree in New York. A lifetime ago now.

I fall in love all over every time I look at you

I don't know where I'd be without you here with me

Something about this song makes his touch different. It’s more consuming. His finger prints press deeper into the exposed skin of your back. You breathe in the scent of him, wanting to memorize this memory no matter how much it will hurt later. 

“Ant..” You murmur, feeling him shudder as he sucks in a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

“No. This all feels like a mistake.” He whispers back.

“I know. I miss you.” Your respond.

Life with you makes perfect sense, Tim McGraw sings as Anthony’s lips brush against your cheek. 

“You look so beautiful tonight. Took my breath away when I saw you earlier.” His hand presses you tighter more. You turn your face towards his. He makes the move, brushing his lips against yours, testing your acceptance. Your face crumples as you place your hand on his cheek.

“Kiss me like this is it.” He doesn’t hesitate, bringing your faces together again. Every stroke of his lips cracks any repair that’s been done to your heart. But fuck, it feels so worth it to have this with him. His tongue strokes against your bottom lip, then nudges between your teeth, melding with yours. 

“Baby.” He whispers, briefly pulling away for air. 

It feels so easy right now. Drunk on vodka and champagne with a room saturated by how easy it is to be in love when both people try. All the struggles, the distance, the ache, the impermeable walls are non-existent. So is the reality that he is no longer yours.

Because he doesn’t kiss you like it’s the last time. He kisses you like this it’s all beginning again.

“I’m leaving for Vancouver tomorrow. Come with me? I don’t want this to be it. I don’t want to give up on us. I want to try again. Harder. The way you deserve.” His nose rests to the side of yours. His fingertips press into the back of your head, ruining the remaining, lopsided curls. You can still taste the beer from his mouth in yours.

“How about you tell me that tomorrow morning? When it isn’t like this…” He sighs, stepping back, looking rejected. “And I’ll get on that plane with you.” You drunkenly agree. He looks down at your face, buzzed off beer, with slightly blood shot eyes. He closes his eyes as the song fades out. 

“Give it up for Y/N and Anthony!!! The next couple to get married!” The DJ bellows.

You and Anthony stare back at each other, unmoving and unable to pretend any more.

“You are right. When it isn’t like this… I will go.” He steps backwards. It feels familiar. You startle, feeling tears prick your eyes at his sudden retreat. The walls close in as he takes another step back. 

“Ant.” You sound desperate, choking. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for what I have done, mon amour. I’ll see you.” His fingers drop from yours as he turns.

You call out for him. But Anthony is already gone.

- - -

A knock on your hotel room door the next morning may as well be against your actual brain. You startle against the soft, white pillow case, looking down at the mascara residue left behind. Drunk you didn’t seem to care about taking all your make up off. Combine that with the tears you cried and the black, inky mess looks like a war zone. You rub at your face then slowly push the covers back. You assume it’s your mother coming to scold you for running off suddenly last night.

It’s not.

Outside, looking as delectable as ever, is Anthony. You stare at him through the peep hole, feeling frustrated and really hungover. He holds two iced coffees in his hand and a brown paper bag is pinched in the middle of his pinter and middle fingers. He raises his fist to knock again, but you open the door to stop him.

“Hi. You ready, beautiful?” 

“Is that a joke?” You mumble, squinting against the light of the hallway.

“No, we gotta get going. You may want to shower though.” His eyes stay locked on yours. You reach up, coming away with black flakes from under your eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You hiss at him, despite your pounding head and thick, dry tongue.

“But you said-“

“Anthony.” You grumble. “My mouth feels like a cotton ball. My head hurts so fucking bad I wanna rip it off. And you walked out last night without any explanation! I don’t care what I said when I was drunk off my 11th vodka soda of the night. You left. Again!” 

“Yeah, I left, so I could sober up and do this.” He gestures to him outside the room. Then he hands you a cup of coffee and a croissant. “You know the best croissants go early here. I was waiting outside at 6 am for this.” He points to the logo for The Patisserie, your favorite place in your hometown. “I meant what I said last night. I don’t want this to be it. I want you to come with me today. I’m so sorry about how things ended and what I did to us, babe. I love you so much. It was never about that. It just got so hard; I was so lost, felt like I had lost everything I knew. I didn’t know what to do. Then you were slipping away from me too.”

Oh, how true that felt to you now. How you tried to hold on to him tighter but felt him slipping through your fingers. You had seen how much he was struggling. You didn’t know what to do and you had some blame to share in the distance that was created.

“Where would we go today?” You murmur.

“Vancouver. To find our new place.” You stare at him, the hangover clouding your brain but none of the shock on your features. Move to Vancouver with him? “You said tell me that in the morning and I’ll go. So here I am, telling you in the morning. Will you go with me? I’m sorry it took me so long to ask, but I can’t live without you.”

If words can truly heal, those did it for you.

You’re not even thinking, which is why you drop the coffee and the pastry at your feet, staining  the carpet in the process as the cold liquid leaks out from the plastic cup. Your arms are around his neck, crashing his face down to yours. The kiss is beautiful, full of love and greedy need and wandering hands as he grips your ass to lift you into his arms. 

You still have more to discuss, like why he gave up when things got hard, the way it hurt when he did what he did, and how you’ll both double down on the commitment this time because you know how awful life is without each other.

But in the meantime, a plane is leaving for Vancouver from Montreal in two hours and you’re going to be on it with Anthony Beauvillier.

[askthekuvaqbrothers]

Previous part

“This one! It’s red!”

Rufus leapt up towards the board, snagging the corner of the map and freeing it from its pin. Now in hand, he unfolded it, his brother leaning over his shoulders to get a look.

“Oh look, it’s got pictures.” Argus exclaimed, jamming a finger into a shape that looked like one of the local hat-shaped houses. 

Cletus frowned, “There’s hardly any words though, only a few are labelled.”

“Do any say Portafisco?”

He scanned the different shapes. ‘Interesting sights of the Three Quarters’ was the maps title, highlighting different landmarks to see in the area. Kuvaq simple had a bubble that read ‘Funny hats!’, and the monorail was called ‘the dark snake’, but following past ‘the last accent’, the ‘So rusty red you’d meet Tetanus sea’, and the ‘floating garbage heap’, there was a blob labelled ‘Our grand Port’

“Port, that matches!”

“Barely.” Cletus rolled his eyes, “but I suppose it’s a start.”

Rufus twisted the map, “So if we go from here, to there, to there, to there, easy peasey!”

Watching his finger trace across the page, Argus pondered, “Isn’t that water though? We can’t walk across that.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Well, no, but-”

Snatching the map, Cletus stepped aside with his nose in the air, “That’s what a boat is for. We’ll get as close as we can, and then find a boat.”

The three shared looks, before all nodding in agreement. They had a plan; it was time to find their father.

“I’m tiiiired.”

Rufus dropped onto the metal beam they’d been following, bowing his head, while Cletus struggled not to copy him. It was now becoming clear the map omitted a very important thing: How long it would take to get from one place to the next.

It was also dawning that this was the furthest they’d been from Kuvaq, the town now only seen as the dip in the land behind them. If they went further, it would disappear entirely.

“May… Maybe we should turn back.” Cletus clenched the front of his jacket, regretting having left Poisonous at home, “It smells even worse out here, a-and I’m not sure we’ll be able to find where home was amongst the hills…”

Rufus looked up, scanning the area around them. So far they’d followed a dirt path, then the pair of wiggly beams that were for mine carts, because they were supposed to lead to the ‘last accent’ where there should be a boat. His legs hurt, and curling up in bed did sound very good right now, but the nagging thought that their dad wouldn’t be there to tuck them in put a damper on that desire. Besides, they’d barely had an epic quest yet, he couldn’t go home without an epic tale.

“Hmf, well if we find dad, he’d surely know the way home and be able to lead us! Even more reason to go!”

“But we don’t know how long any of this will take! What if by the time we get to the port, dad’s already on his way home? What if we get stuck and miss him? What-“

“I think I see something!” Argus called, scurrying down from a tall pole he’d used as a scouting point, “The tracks go into a tunnel up ahead, but over that I think there’s a tower.”

Rufus threw himself back onto his feet, “Onwards then!”

Neither of his brothers had time to comment as he marched ahead, leading them up to a little warehouse built through the junk. After a glance around his eyes lit up at the sight of a machine with wheels.

“A chariot!”

“Rufus wait!”

Argus took a firm hold on the sleeve of his shirt, yanking Rufus back into line.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?”

“Gizmo always said that when you enter a junk mine, you have to make sure it’s safe first.”

“Tsk tsk,” Cletus shook his head, “And here I would have gotten a good laugh if something fell on his head.”

Rufus pulled his arm from the hold, “Ugh, I can hear nothing is falling, it’s fine. Besides we gotta hurry.”

He scurried over to the cart, clambering into the seat and began pulling at the leavers. 

“Bleh, it’s not moving.”

Crossing his arms, Argus frowned, “See, you didn’t have to rush.”

He was ignored, “Guess it’s up to me to fix it!”

Dismounting, he began flipping panels on the cart until one revealed an empty socket, just big enough for his fists. Then he plucked at the wires, watching them wiggle so he could trace them back to what they connected to. 

“Hmm, Uh hu. So that, mmmh… ah ha! Cletus!” He grinned as his brother jumped, “I need a square doohicky on a ball dowhatsit. Then a fandngle on a puzzler in green!”

Cletus stuck up his nose and pouted, to which Rufus rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you wanna get to Dad quick?”

“...You didn’t say the magic word.”

Argus nodded, “You didn’t.”

“UUUUGH. Pleeeeease go get me everything I just said you big headed party pooper.”

There was a sound of annoyance in reply, but Cletus did turn to begin picking over the scrap around them. Argus watched on as his brothers worked, eyeing Rufus in particular as he pointedly ignored his presence. The red-head had been pushing back against his authority recently, and while Gizmo would say that independence was a party of growing up, it made him very annoyed to suddenly be questioned and rebuked so often. 

For now, he had to let it go. Their main goal took precedence over his brothers rebellious nature, so he took it upon himself to help Cletus lifting heavier objects, and eventually forcing the random shapes into the combination Rufus wanted. When Cletus handed them over, they were shoved into place with little finesse. 

Then he clambered back on and tried to turn the cart on again, this time it's engine roared to life. 

“Bingo! Hop on!!”

Sitting far enough forward to reach the pedals left room for his brothers to climb on the seat behind him, each having to hold onto whatever was near.

“Hey, do we know where this is going to-”

“GO!!”

"““AHHHHHHHH”””

The cart suddenly rocketed down the tracks, vanishing into the mouth of a tunnel, tipping left and right as it rounded corners and bends, of which there were a lot. The veritable maze of track spun them around and around, bumping and shaking all the while.

“SLOW DOOOWN!!”

Squinting through the wind, Rufus reached about for a leaver that would hopefully be the break. However the one his hand wrapped around simply pulled away from the machine as he yanked on it.

“Uh-oh.”

He felt his brothers tightly grip his back as they circled around yet again. They were stuck in a loop, their speed not decreasing.

“L-look!” Cletus came right beside his left ear, pointing to the right, “That post- Arrows!”

As they zoomed past it, they all noticed the track split in two.

“We need to pick the right path!”

On the next loop, they all squinted into the wind, searching for a solution.

“There should be a switch!” Argus hissed through gritted teeth. “Should.”

There was certainly a hole, but no lever for the switch, though Rufus glanced at the break still clenched in his hand. 

“Okay so-!”

On the next round, the three had created a chain from themselves. Argus had his legs wrapped around the base of the steering wheel, and his arms cinched around Cletus waist, face pressed to his belly. Cletus had his legs wrapped around Argus' chest, while his arms held Rufus, who dangled as far off the cart as possible, stick in hand. As they sped towards the split, Rufus drove the lever into the hole and held on tight, pulling it enough to trigger the switch.

However, the act had caused the cart to begin to tip to the side, the left wheels lifting up, and with the cart now taking the right track into a massive bend, they were staring down a steep junk hill. 

“We’re gonna falll!!”

“No. We’re. Not.” Argus gritted out, daring to unhook one leg from the steering column to then throw it over the air-born side, using it to pull himself and the other two further to that side, until the weight evened out and the cart returned to four wheels with a bounce. 

The three remained interwound as the cart continued its speedy travel, though the turns felt different this time, until light suddenly assaulted them from the caves exit. They sailed out into the open air, but the ends of the track here had been curled up at its completion, creating a ramp that sent the cart flying.

“““AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”””

The brothers flew, the massive tower waiting for them just by the water. 

Next Part

[h3rmess]

BLUELOCK GANG I NEED YOUR HELP!!

so I'm making a leavers shirt bc it's the end of my time at school. I need help on which kind of design to choose

(if you don't know what a leavers shirt is, here's an example)

I'm thinking of doing a blue lock themed shirt

so I'm mainly doing the design on the back, and I was thinking of making it look like a football shirt with my name written on it

so something like that but with my name and the number 24 on the back

the problem is I can't decide which character to do 😭😭

I have a list of some who I think would make for a cool design, so I'll do a poll to help me decide.

pls suggests more if you have any cool ideas!! if you are also a jjk fan, pls suggest some ideas too!!

[aceofspades064]

Painting my chem leavers shirts for this year :>

[daydreams-after-dark]

SORSHA! I had to do it. OMG. Fem!SKZ is making me delulu (as if I wasn't before....)

Fem!Innie is so possessive. She can’t help it. She knows you love it when she pretends to cry so you’ll give her your cock. Nevermind her maniacal laugh when she edges you after you’ve made her cum. She just wants to make you feel special in her own little way.

Fem!Innie loves to leave scratches on your back when you pound her jealous little pussy in the backseat of her car. She wanted to argue with you about the girl staring at you in the restaurant. You know the only way to shut her up is to put your cock in her mouth. But she makes sure to leave little hickeys all over your hips and stomach. Reminders that you belong to her only.

Fem!Innie covers the collar of your dress shirt with her red lipstick when she visits you for lunch in your office. She wants to make sure all the ladies know you ain’t chatting about trends while eating a sandwich when your door closes. You better stuff your necktie in her mouth if you want her to be quiet.

Fem!Innie leaves her panties in your desk drawer with a cute little note covered in hearts: “I expect these to be covered in cum when you give them back to me.”

Ahhhhhhh YES YES YES YES !!!! God this fem!innie! Is so 😩😩😩😩 yes I see her as a back scratcher, mark leaver. The panties with a note omg I can’t think straight 🥵🥵🥵 I feel like she’s got him wrapped around her little finger too. I love her possessiveness!!! Fuck it! I love all of it. 🥰🥰🥰

Love your naughty brain 😘😘😘

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

Room Service

Garvez smut 1,023 words

Ao3

"Good morning."

The greeting is warm on her neck, tangling in her hair, and she feels it as his hand tightens where it's been resting on her waist, nose nuzzling below her ear.

Stretching her head up on the pillow, elongating her neck, she lets go of a gratified hum, not words, too early for words, but she's happy he's there. Glad they're here, and wants him to know.

Well versed in the many declarations, verbal, non-verbal, and those that lay in between, of Penelope Garcia, Luke takes the offer, the expanse of new skin, pressing his lips to her, Penelope's hips curling and pressing back into him in response.

He kisses her again and another sleepy, contented sound is pushed out through her nose, his hand traveling under her shirt to lightly cup and squeeze a bare breast.

It'd been like this for a while, Penelope finally giving in, giving them a shot, and how lovely that she had. On nights they spent together, something happening more and more frequently, she would wake up to this.

Briefly, her thoughts trail, if she'd only known what she was denying herself all those years… It's exactly what she suspected him of bragging about. He is that good. In fact, he's better, truthfully, because he's good.

He's kind.

He's sweet

and caring

and completely…

She sighs and cants, slowly rubbing against him, his hand slipping back down. Fingers gently coast over her belly and over the dip in her waist, landing high on her hip, squeezing the soft flesh, Penelope releasing a soft moan, shifting to relax her shoulders more against him.

"Are you awake?" His deep voice murmurs behind her ear, the question accompanied by another soft squeeze, and press of full lips.

An airy hummed "mm-hmm" floats in front of them as his lips make their way to the front of her throat, his warm chest curling and pressing closer, hand leavering her hip back.

She feels the curl of his smile, fingers drumming, then stroking her thigh, Luke bringing his voice to a whisper as his nose nuzzles her jaw, "Are you trying to sleep?"

She is a little, wants to ride that fine line between dream and wake, the place where everything is fuzzy and warm, and floating, but she shakes her head, a sound almost like no being puffed out as she tangles her feet with his, rubbing them together.

Luke slips an arm under hers, wrapping it tight around her middle, holding her closer, and kisses her cheek. Penelope brings her arm up, hand cupping the back of his head, nails threading and fingers twisting through his hair. Luke grinds against her ass and a rough sigh passes over her cheek, teeth etching the smooth flesh.

He loosens his hold and she loosens her thighs, his broad hand coasting back up her belly, tugging on the string of her pajama pants, bow coming undone. The flat of his fingers swoop under the band of her underwear and the band of her pants, cupping her mons with even pressure. He threads his fingers through short silky curls, thick middle finger immediately finding and parting her lips, finding her wet, Penelope jumping at the contact of a calloused finger on her roused nerve endings.

Luke slides the finger down, parting her again, then drags it up, playing in her slick, bringing it to rub in circles.

She can come this way, he knows, no penetration, just gliding, targeted pressure, short, quick circles. Sometimes she even prefers it. Likes it better. She comes harder, longer, when she's seeking that friction. Just the idea of it, of getting her there like that, of getting her to that point, sets his resolve: he wants to bring her there. He could ask her if that's what she wants, if she wants something else, but he knows by now when she's quiet like this, she's leaving it up to him. She doesn't much care how, so long as it happens, so long as he's with her, sharing in the act.

She knows what to expect by feel, those magic golden threads pulling and plucking, sending trills through her body, his movements coming quicker, strokes deeper, harder. He sucks at the joining of her neck in earnest and his other arm wriggles between her and the bed, clutching her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple.

Gradually she loses the battle on keeping quiet, every stroke, every tug, bringing her closer and closer to the waking world. But it's not a bad way to get there.

Her breathy sighs steadily morph into high moans, her hips riotously thrusting to his hand, seeking more, his forearm doing it's best to pin her movements, hold her closer. Her hand under the pillow digs nails into cotton as everything in her tightens, as she climaxes, pined between Luke's hard cock, hard muscles, and rough fingers, Penelope panting, pillowcase sucking into her open mouth as he strokes softer, languid circles to her pulsing clit, bringing her down, her walls still clutching hard to nothing. He kisses her hot chest, her blushing heated cheek, and she turns her head so he can kiss her, Penelope grinning against his lips.

When the kiss is over, she rolls towards him, finally opening her eyes, and a cheeky smirk fixes into place. "That was quite the wakeup call, I should spread the word, tell everyone room service here is tops."

Normally the mere suggestion of Penelope Garcia talking about his service would have him ducking in embarrassment, face hiding deep in his hands, but the way her fingers trail his chest, the way her lips curl, the spark in her eye, sparks something in him and, unexpectedly, he plays along instead. "Mm, sounds like I earned my tip."

The tone of his voice is so deep, and honied, and warm that she doesn't even catch the entendre, failing to make the expected joke. Biting her cheek, she plays up a thoughtful expression, hands falling flat high on his chest, fingers drumming at his collar, "Hmm, I'd say, but I think I left it in the shower..."

[romanceisntdead21]

hey guyss, I'm doing my leavers shirt soon and I want it to be marauders themed but I need quotes for it

can u guys js give me the best quotes from marauders fics or whatever that would work for my leavers shirt 🙏

[gabessquishytum]

So 🐺’s monster under the bed au gave me some ideas. This one got long and has a bit of body horror in it.

Hob doesn’t immediately try and figure out how to take his Nightmare with him to university. He is sharing a dorm room and while he and his roommate have both previously availed themselves of the sock on the doorknob for random hookups, inviting another sentient entity into the room on a permanent basis seems a stretch too far. Hob wouldn’t even know how to start explaining to his roommate if he got caught cuddling with an eldrich horror.

It does mean Hob heads home for almost every holiday and break, much to the delight of his parents, and the grudging acceptance of his Nightmare who really would prefer to see him more often. Hob is very glad his Nightmare is so good at muffling and gaging him since they are very active at night trying to make up for lost time.

When Hob is finally able to rent a flat with his friends that gives him his own private bedroom it is time for both he and his nightmare to move out of his childhood home on a more permanent basis. Nightmare has been figuring out how to make the move for ages and is very eager to get more time alone with Hob. When Nightmare presents his solution, Hob carrying enough of Nightmare’s essence into the new bedroom to act as a strong anchor to summon Nightmare himself to the space, Hob is completely on board. They get lucky with their timing, finding a few days when both Hob’s parents and his new roommates will be away from town, leaving Hob some privacy to focus on completing the ritual successfully.

The privacy doesn’t matter too much from the start because Nightmare has Hob stuffed so full from both ends that he couldn’t move or make a noise even if he wanted to. There are things that began as fingers that are now too flexible and smooth making their way down his throat and further inside. Something is dripping off them and Hob only gets a taste when he tries to breathe and his writhing pushes the substance back up into his mouth. Thick as molasses, it burns like spearmint and gasoline and tingles like static but Hob does his best to swallow it all back down, he wants everything from his Nightmare. All his other holes are equally occupied and Hob swears that the tentacles are all trying to meet in the middle. He can feel them in places where he didn’t think he had those kinds of nerves, the substance Nightmare is pumping into him sets everything alight.

There are too many hands pressed against him everywhere, holding him rigid and straight from head to hip. Hob couldn’t move if he wanted to, but he very much does not want to be anywhere but here. There are tears streaming down his face that Nightmare cleans with a too-long tongue and Hob can catch his breath only when Nightmare lets him and it is ecstasy. Hob is sure that he would have already come enough times to pass out if he had any control, and is glad he doesn’t have the option.

Hob is not sure when everything ended, his brain was too full of pain and pleasure at the end to bother creating any kind of memory, but he wakes up in the morning draped in only sunlight and alone in the bed. He looks down at his body and is suddenly glad he will be able to avoid seeing anyone he knows before he finishes the second half of the ritual. His everything feels bloated and his stomach is distended worse even than when he had tried to get his money’s worth out of an all-you-can-eat buffet. There are purple-black scratch marks crisscrossing all over his skin that look nothing like the red parallel lines claws or nails would leave behind, and Hob wonders if they are some kind of writing.

Eventually, Hob leavers himself out of bed, he may not have been able to move much last night but he is pretty sure he still managed to strain every muscle he had. He pulls on some baggy clothes and can’t help stopping in front of his mirror. He turns to his side and pulls his shirt tight against his skin and he really does look pregnant. He can’t help the blush at the thought and something flutters and squirms in his insides, he is pretty sure it is whatever Nightmare left behind. He really does want to at least finish up with his degree before seeing if Nightmare can deliver on his dirty talk, but at least now he knows a bit better that he really will enjoy the whole process and not just the thought of it.

It is extremely uncomfortable and awkward to get back to his new flat. Ever bump and jolt sends sparks skittering through his nerves more painful than pleasurable. Hob collapses on his bed gratefully and enjoys a few moments of nothing sloshing around on his insides. The whole process was exhausting enough that Hob just managed to shed all his clothing before passing out for a nap.

When he wakes up the sun is setting and it is near enough to night that Hob feels safe starting on the second part of the ritual. Nightmare had been a bit vague on how the whole thing should go, so Hob goes with what feels right. He pries out the plug that had made riding the bus and then the underground all kinds of interesting and lets the essence that it had been stoppering up ooze down his leg and onto his sheets. Hob isn’t surprised to see that it is black as pitch, but is surprised that It is cold despite being kept inside his body all day and seems even thicker than he remembers for the lack of warmth.

Hob gently runs his hands over his skin, tracing all of the purple-black marks that he can see before getting a hand on his cock. Nightmare said Hob would need to summon him, and their whole relationship started over a bit of monsterfucking porn, so Hob thinks calling out for Nightmare while getting himself off is only fitting.

Hob’s insides seem to move in counterpoint with him as he falls into a rhythm, muscles twinging at every motion. Whatever is leaking out of him is too thick to provide any kind of slip when he scoops some up and tries to use it to bring himself off, so he resorts to the lube that lives in his bedside table. Hob’s throat is raw from last night but he still makes every effort to call for his beloved Nightmare. Hob is quick to bring himself off with just the thought of any part of Nightmare being in him. Hob's own pearly spend mixes with the midnight black of Nightmares, soaking into his sheets. He collapses back into his bed, more exhausted than he feels he should be after a simple wank.

He looks around his room waiting for that too-pale figure to appear, but he is still alone in his room. Hob is just about to work himself into a good amount of worry that he did something wrong when the first wave of nausea works its way up his throat. It feels like the worst bout of carsickness he has ever had, made more intense by the fact that he is pretty sure he can actually feel something worming its way up out of his stomach.

Hob turns on his hands and knees and can’t help gagging as the nausea and the movement increase. It is a bit of a relief as the black tar-like substance starts to come up, sinking into and staining his pillows like ink, but the relief is short-lived as the essence just keeps coming up in a long rope, blocking his airway in turns as thicker parts make their way out. Hob pulls at it desperately, trying to get it out quickly, but more and more just keeps coming up.

Hob is crying and gasping and still trying to call for his Nightmare. He had no problems agreeing to undertake this ritual, and still would agree now knowing what would happen, but he could really use some comfort and support right about now. The sensation of something being pulled out from his throat is so viscerally disturbing that Hob cannot help the way he spasms and twitches trying to get away from the feeling. When the last of the essence comes out Hob takes a deep breath and starts sobbing, collapsing to his side his arm flopping over the side of the bed. 

Hob is still alone in the now dark room.

Until a pale hand with too many fingers reaches out from under the bed and grabs onto Hob’s sweat-slicked hand. Then another hand appears, and another, a mass of hands and spindly limbs emerge, all of them pushing against the bed frame until Nightmare pulls himself free from the small space underneath. Hob is smiling, laughing in joy as he watches Nightmare unfold into his usual height, even as tears of pain and exhaustion continue to streak down his face.

Nightmare gently runs his hands over Hob’s still shaking body, whispering words of praise into Hob’s skin as he wraps himself tightly around the human. He guards his precious love as exhaustion catches up with Hob and sends him crashing into unconsciousness.

It is the first, but not the last time they perform the ritual. It is deeply unpleasant and painful every time, but Hob will do anything to keep his nightmare with him as he moves through life. By the time Hob starts working, they have realized that through the repeated instances of Hob playing vessel to Nightmare’s essence Hob himself has become an anchor for Nightmare. No one ever sees Professor Gadling’s partner during the day, but he always appears for the night events never straying far from the Professor’s side.

When Hob starts getting a lot of compliments about looking young for his age, they realize Hob might have caught a case of sexually transmitted immortality as well.

-💥

Everything about this is just. So good. Hob’s dedication to his Nightmare, his lil pregnancy fantasy, the body horror of it all, and of course Nightmare himself in all his glory.

I'm imagining all the eldritch/vaguely magical creatures that might possibly exist in this universe. A sock stealing monster in the washing machine, a headphone tangling gremlin that lives in coat pockets. Hob becomes more aware of these things now he knows his Nightmare, and Nightmare himself? Well, he gets pretty jealous. If he finds out that any of the household spooks have been paying attention to HIS human, he makes a point of showing them that Hob is well and truly claimed.

With his teeth and claws he marks Hob’s body with those gorgeous red and purple lines. Occasionally Hob gives permission for Nightmare to draw blood from him, because he knows that Nightmare particularly loves to feast on his beloved's hot blood. It reminds him of being inside Hob during the ritual, which (although incredibly uncomfortable) is the most wonderful bonding experience for a being like Nightmare.

The phrase sexually transmitted immortality is my new favourite thing and i just love the idea of Nightmare coming inside Hob so many times that he becomes a little bit more than human. Their bodies have shared so much time and space, and they're joined on a spiritual level as well as a physical one. Hob is absolutely thrilled to learn that he can spend an eternity with his Nightmare. There are so many weird and wonderful things for them to do together!

The more Hob becomes an anchor for his beloved, the more Nightmare can use his eldritch powers without worrying about harming him. He can bring Hob into the shadowy realm where he originally comes from, and lay him out on a bed of inky black darkness. Hob suddenly feels very very small when Nightmare looms over him, and he loves it. He wants to be hollowed out by his lover’s cock; reduced to nothing more than a vessel.

Nightmare can't wait to make all his worst fantasies a reality <3

[wonfilms]

+ warnings : tears , hurt and comfort, lino is very soft and very in love

senior leavers' day.

the day that minho dreaded and simultaneously yearned for, it was almost like a final reality check, this was really it. he was graduating, he would never have to sit through another double english class again.

"would you sign my shirt 'min?" you asked so sweetly that he felt as though his heart would beat right out of his chest. "i'll sign yours afterwards i promise "

he swallowed hard and nodded flashing you a soft smile in order to ease the butterflies that erupted in his tummy from the way you looked at him.

he took the pen from between your fingers, your fingertips brushing against his as you turned and exposed the empty space on your shirt for him to write something.

at that moment. . . his brain went simply blank, he had so much to say yet he could process so little of it all.

his throat ran dry and he blinked away the tears in his eyes, it was going to be different from now on without you here every morning walking him to school.

he wanted to tell you about the many sleepless nights hes spent thinking about you laying in his bed, he wanted to yell about how sweet your shampoo smells when you hug him close and he wished he could say every little sweet nothing that sprang to his mind when he thought of you.

"you okay minho?" you asked concernedly, a soft affection lacing your words. you've always been like this. you've always made it so hard for him to not like you.

"yeah, i'm fine just thinking" he smiled in a poor attempt to cover up the wobble in his voice.

"min are you crying?"

damn you and your ability to always know what he was feeling, perhaps that's what 5 years of friendship does.

"pfft n-no" his voice gave him away and after that he couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

"oh minho" you almost let out a choked sob of your own as you pulled him into your arms.

he could smell your shampoo again and though it was comforting this time it almost burnt his throat as he swallowed , the scent almost bitter now that he knows this is the last time he could hold you like this.

when you said you were moving away he couldn't quite believe it.

it had always been him and you, lee know and y/n , and the idea of that changing scared him more than he would wish to admit it.

"'m gonna miss you" his words came out half choked and he swore his voice sounded an octave deeper than usual from how cjoked up his emotions were. "'m gonna miss you so much minho" you whispered into the crook of his neck.

maybe the idea of signing shirts was superficial because the way your tears stained his collar that day was enough, the rest of you was always stored tucked safely into his memories.

because in the end? you were the best thing that had happened to him, and life had a funny way of showing him that.

[livelaughlovelando]

Drag Racing In Miami (TZ11)

Warnings: Suggestive, Kissing? Idk what else

Authors note: for the longest time i've been obsessed with racing movies especially the Fast and Furious series so I had to write Trevor as a street racer like Brian O'Conner!

Today like most days I was in the shop working on a new car. A Nissan Skyline had made it's way in for slight body work repairs and some upgrades. As of current I was underneath the car changing the oil as it was low. "Hey how's it going man," I hear Ry say to someone entering the garage. "Ah not to bad, how's it going?" The person asks with a slight recognisable voice. "Pretty good, body works done now we're just doing some maintenance and service and it will be good to go," Ry answers. I hear their footsteps get closer to me indicating i'm working on the customers car. "Well, well, well if it isn't Y/N working on my car," Sliding out from under his car I am met with Trevor Zegras standing over me looking directly in my eyes. His hair wavy under his cap as he wears a white shirt and long shorts. It had been months since I heard or saw from him I can't help but slightly check him out.

"Zegras," I sigh. "You trying to sabotage me for our next race," He chuckles in a low voice. "Pfft as if Ry would let me do that," I laugh back. "I'd have her ass hanging off the roof," Ry nods. "Good," Trevor smiles, "so when you think it will be ready by?" "I've done most of the maintenance shit, just need to give it a little clean and polish and you can have it this afternoon," I say sitting up. "Sounds good i'll hang around then," He smirks at me. Rolling my eyes I lay back down and slide back under to see the oil has drained completely. Taking the container holding the left over oil I screw the cap back on and slide out from under the car. Carefully placing the container next to me I sit up. Long and behold I see Trevor sitting on a chair against the wall in front of me. Rolling my eyes at him I get up and carry the container to the table. "Just making sure your doing everything right," He laughs. "Yeah whatever," I sigh. Grabbing his car keys from the wall hooks I walk over to his car to unlock the doors. Opening the drivers door I lean in and find the instrument panel. After finding the leaver I hear the hood pop and I carefully get out shutting the door.

Making my way to the front of the car I lift the hood and pull down the stand to hold it up. Feeling Trevors eyes burning into my skin I know for a fact he's enjoying my outfit. A pair of short black bike shorts and a white tank top stained with dirt giving him a clear view of all my curves he adores so much. Leaning into the hood to place a funnel into the oil tank entrance I feel a pair of hands hold my hips. The persons lower body is pressed up against my ass as they lean down to get a view of what i'm seeing. "Do you know what your doing?" Trevor asks lowly in my ear. "It not hard to change a car's oil I do it all the time," I say turning my head to look at his. "I'm not talking about my car i'm talking about me, do you know what your doing to me," He says in a way that sounds almost like a whine. As if I wasn't sweating from working in the shop all day I definitely felt myself getting hotter everywhere. "I don't know what your talking about," I shrug trying to play it cool but I obviously do know what he's talking about. "Y/N," He whispers in my ear slowly bringing his lips to my neck. Shivers rush down my spin as I pour the oil into the funnel with shaky hands. "Trev stop," I say with a breathless voice. "Oh so i'm Trev now am I?" He chuckles recalling me referring to him as Zegras not that long ago. Putting the bottle down I turn myself around so i'm completely facing him. Carefully placing my arms around his neck I look into his eyes. His hands still holding my waist as he looks down at me. "You've been gone for months with no call, no nothing," I frown. "I know baby I had a job off the grid," He says apologetically. Turning my head away to not look at his face but he immediately uses his hand to softly bring my face back towards him. "I'm here now and i've missed you so much," He smiles. Watching his face soften a smile grows on my face. "How much?" I ask. "So fucking much," "Yeah?" I ask with a large smile. "Mhmm hmm," He nods. "I missed you too," I reply. As if his smile couldn't get any wider he leans down hovering his lips over mine. Using my arms to pull him further down I lean back and press my lips on his. Closing our eyes we deepen the kiss to show how much we truely missed each other. "Eh mhmm," I hear someone cough next to us. Pulling away I look over to see Ry cross armed looking directly at us. "Stop making out with the customers and finish his car," Ry chuckles. "Yeah finish my car," Trevor chuckles letting go of me and stepping back. Rolling my eyes playfully I give Trevor a small peck before taking the funnel of out the oil tank and placing it in the sink. Ry walks over to the cupboard to get the polishing and cleaning stuff to start finishing off the work on Trevor’s car. Checking everything under the hood is good I help Ry clean the car as Trevor hovers around us. With the music playing in the background I sing and dance around while wiping down the car. Once all the work was completed we tested everything was working right before handing the keys back over to Trevor.

“Your keys kind sir,” I say slightly bowing.

“Why thank you,” he smiles taking them from me.

Trevor stares at me for a second in deep thought before opening his mouth.

“You wanna take it for a drive?” He asks holding the key up for me to take.

“Trevor Zegras letting someone else drive his skyline?” I smirk, “unheard of,”

“I only let special people drive it,” he smiles.

A smile paints across my face as I hear his words.

“You saying I’m special?” I question.

Watching him walk closer to me he places his hand on my waist and lean down.

“So special,”

Quickly taking the keys out of his other hand I smile.

“Shall we?”

“We shall,”

Both of us walk to his car and I open the drivers door. Sliding into the seat I feel the steering wheel and admire the inside even though I’ve seen it before while working on it. Trevor notices the seat perfectly adjusted to my liking already and chuckles.

“Looks like someone was already sitting in here before,”

“Maybe,” I shrug giggling.

Starting the engine I listen to the roar which is music to my ears. Putting the car into gear I carefully drive the car out of the garage. It was already starting to get dark. Making my way to a quiet straight street I stop at the start. Looking over at Trevor for his approval he gives me a nod and I start to rip it down the straight. My smile grows as I feel the adrenaline rush through me. Trevor chuckles at my amusement and we quickly make it to the end of the strip. Not slowing down I drift round so we are facing where we started.

“You sure are something else,” he laughs.

Smiling I start the car back up and slowly drive us to a peaceful spot overlooking the beach. Parking up on the grass I look over at Trevor signalling we’re getting out. I open the door and slide out shutting it behind me. Climbing up on the bonnet of the car I sit with my knees to my chest and Trevor joins me doing the same. Placing an arm around my shoulder he brings me closer to him as I rest my head on his chest. The wind lightly blowing our hair around as we watch the tide come in.

“Never leave me without a message again,” I sigh, “I was worried sick, I thought you had a race and died without my knowledge,”

“A race without you with me, never, your my lucky charm,” he says kissing my head, “I’m sorry but I promise this is the last time I’ll be leaving you,”

“Good,”

Both of us lay back looking at the sky holding each other’s hand.

“What have you been doing while I was gone?” He asks intrigued.

“Well working on your car for starters, going to races, knocking on your door hoping you’d answer the door at some point, writing music like always and driving around searching for you,”

He sighs feeling awful for what he had done, “I’m sorry baby, you wanna stay the night at mine?”

Letting out a large yawn I nod.

“I’ll drive,” he says.

Both of us get up and I get into the passengers seat reclining it so I can sleep. He starts the car up and I shut my eyes slowly falling asleep. A hand rest on my thigh coming off and on as we slowly make our way to his place. A whisper of my name and I am shaken awake. Rubbing my eyes I see a familiar bungalow and Trevor leaning in the door. Sliding out of the car he shuts the door behind me and holds the backs of my shoulders guiding me to the front door. Unlocking it he opens the door and walk in. As he shuts the door he wraps his arms around my waist from behind resting his head on my shoulder.

“So are you hungry or should we just go straight to bed?”

“Sleep,” I chuckle.

“Alright then sleep it is,”

We walk through the lounge to his room and I take a seat on the edge of his bed. Watching him rummage through his drawers he throws a grey huffer shirt at me. Sliding my own white shirt cover in dirt over my head I expose my choice of bra. Feeling Trevor’s eyes burn into my skin as I slide of my bike shorts leaving me in just undergarments. He himself takes his shorts off leaving him in his shirt and boxers as he climbs into his bed. Following him I crawl towards him situating myself on top of him. Straddling him I see him smirk up at me with his arms behind his head.

“We’re sleeping you perv,” I chuckle.

“Yeah ok,” he smiles.

Leaning down I place a small peck on his lips before flopping down completely. Wrapping my arms around his torso I rest my head on his chest.

“Good night Trev,”

“Good night Y/N,”

Letting out a large yawn I talk, “I love you,”

I hear Trevor’s heart speed up, “what was that?” He asks trying to clarify why I said.

“I love you Trevor,” I repeat.

There’s a large pause as Trevor takes it all in.

“I love you too Y/N,” he says kissing the top of my head and wrapping hair arms around me to bring me closer.