Summary: You’re a
cam girl who ‘somehow’managed to
convince your neighbour Simon and his friend Negan to make a surprise appearance
on your cam show, after a night of long drinking of course. A week after the wonderful
experience, you decide to watch the show on your own to let off some built-up steam. (Pre-Apocalypse)
Fic Notes: Long
passages of italics are flashbacks/memories, block quotes & italics together are what’s
happening on screen.
Block Quotes & italics
Author’s Notes: Heya,
here is my submission for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash Negan Writing Challenge Round 2! My Prompt
was Negan x OC x Simon. I decided to write some awesome smutty three way – are my
voyeurism and masturbation kinks showing? For some reason, I was super nervous
about this because it was my first time writing with flashbacks ect… Please
feel free to give me feedback!
You lay in bed, laptop resting on a pile of pillows as you scroll
through your Tumblr dashboard. The occasional porn gif or image sprouting its
head, buried between pictures of cats and the odd aesthetic nature photograph.
Your mind wondered to the two people you had been thinking about most the week,
Simon and Negan. It had been 1 week since your sensual encounter with them. You
hadn’t uttered a word to them since, although there were some sneaky winks and
side eyes from Simon’s window that looked onto your balcony – there was never a
follow up fuck.
Whether it had been the alcohol that made you instigate the
three-way or your dire need to be well and truly fucked, you hadn’t built up
the same amount of courage to re-do the wonderful experience. Both Simon and
Negan were intimidating in every way possible, and although you always try to
come across as confident and in control, those two seemed to steal those traits
away from you without even trying.
they say drinking alone is an early sign of being a fucking alcoholic.”
from the hard-wooden chair on your balcony and looking up over the rim of your
glass you see Simon’s friend, Negan. He seems to have opened the window of
Simon’s apartment that overlooks your small balcony.
shit. I don’t want that – Guess I need some drinking buddies to downplay this
depressing situation?” You yell back, swallowing the rising burp that was in
You weren’t sure
how long you had been locked in ‘the box’, as Simon charmingly referred to it.
Days would go by
without any contact from the outside world. You were just left to lay there in
the dark, curled in on yourself to try and stay warm. You were left in your
pants and tank top, but the fabric was thin and the room cold, especially at
confinement wasn’t enough to drive you crazy, the noise just might. The music was
muffled, playing a few doors down from you, but the unmistakable tune of “Easy
Street” seemed to play on an endless loop. You felt terrible for whoever was
being directly subjected to it.
You heard the
lock on your door turn, and you shifted carefully on the floor. Your hip ached
from the cement. When it finally opened, you were forced to shield your eyes
from the light, too painful to endure after so much time spent in the dark.
A shadow came
over you and you squinted up at Simon’s face. He was smiling widely, a paltry
excuse for a sandwich in his hand.
awhile since you’ve eaten,” he mused, holding it just out of your reach. “I bet
Two days at
least had passed since they’d bothered to feed you. You were starving, but
stubborn enough not to admit it.
You met Simon’s
gaze with a challenging glare, and he only laughed at your obstinacy.
“Look kid,” he
rolled his eyes, “being a pain in the ass isn’t going to get you out of this mess
any faster. So maybe swallow that fucking pride of yours. You want food, you
know what to do.” You bowed your head, jaw tight and eyes watering.
bit out, “may I have it?”
he leaned in, pulling a face. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“Please, sir,” you grunted. “May I eat?”
“Of course you
can!” his face broke out into an exaggerated grin. “All you had to do was ask!”
Baz' perfect leaver's ball:
Simon, good music, people not behaving like idiots, SIMON, dancing with Simon, kissing Simon, people not being annoying as hell, talking to Simon, Simon not hating him, his mother does a speech, there is good food and did I mention SIMON
Simon's perfect leaver's ball:
Sandwiches and did I mention SANDWICHES for Crowley's sake
<b>simon:</b> *at leaver's ball*<p/><b>sandwiches:</b> *not there*<p/><b>simon:</b> I came here to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now<p/><b>baz:</b> i am here 2 yknow<p/></p>
a/n: this is quite short and kinda late but i still wanted to contribute something to the @watfordleaversball celebrations so - happy belated leavers day! enjoy <3
summary: simon and baz get those sandwiches, and then they go up onto the roof of mummers house because i’m a giant cheeseball
“Wait - where are we going?”
“Somewhere more private.”
Baz is pulling Simon out of the kitchen by his hand, the one that isn’t holding the plate of egg and cheese sandwiches Cook Pritchard gave them. (Seriously. She just gave the lot to Baz, without question.)
“Where is this somewhere more private?” Baz leads him out the back door, then starts heading in the direction of Mummers House. “Our room?”
“No. But close.” And he doesn’t answer any more of Simon’s questions, no matter how many times he asks.
But they do go up to their room, and Simon is already opening his mouth in confusion when he sees Baz walk over to the window and open it. A gust of cool night air blows in through it, and Baz turns back to Simon, beckoning him closer with a hand. Still perplexed, Simon steps forward. Then he watches as Baz puts one shiny-shoed foot on the windowsill and pulls himself up onto it.
Simon jerks forward on instinct - almost dropping the plate of sandwiches in the process - and grabs Baz’s leg, hoping to steady him. “Baz,” he hisses. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Calm down, Snow.” Simon can’t even see Baz’s head now. Baz shakes his leg a little. “Can you let go of me?” Reluctantly, and a little anxiously, Simon does, and before he knows it, Baz is out of sight. For a second, anyway. A moment later, one of his hands reappears in front of Simon’s face.
“Come on,” says Baz’s disembodied voice. Simon blinks at Baz’s hand for a moment, then he reaches out and takes it, yelping when Baz pulls him up onto the windowsill. He wobbles there for a second, trying desperately not to look down. Then Baz is taking the plate of sandwiches from Simon’s hand and setting it somewhere on the roof before grabbing both of Simon’s wrists and hoisting him up. Simon scrabbles for purchase on the roof, and when he finds it, he releases a long breath.
“What in Morgana’s name are we doing up here?”
“Enjoying the view, obviously.” Baz is sitting close to the edge of the roof, his feet almost hanging over the drop, and he looks as casual as if he were sitting out on the Lawn. Simon turns - carefully - and sits down next to him.
And the view is beautiful. Simon can practically see all of Watford from here - the main part of the school with its towers that reach the clouds, the moat, the gates shining black in the moonlight…
The moon is huge and round above them, full and cradled by thousands of stars. The sky is just dark blue gaps in between the sparkling white.
Simon breathes out.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Baz says. He nudges Simon’s arm and proffers the plate full of food. “Sandwich?”
Simon grins and takes one, shaking his head. “How did you even get the idea to come up here?”
“Life is surprisingly boring when you don’t have Simon Snow as your roommate anymore.” Baz shrugs. “I had time.”
“Well, it’s more than nice up here. It’s kind of…”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s - ” Simon’s words die in his mouth when he realises that Baz isn’t looking at the scenery anymore; he’s looking at him.
Simon feels his cheeks burn. “This is terrifyingly cheesy.”
Baz laughs, and the sound mixes with the wind tumbling around them. Simon could swear that Baz’s cheeks and ears are slightly red too. Then again, the lighting is pretty dim. He could be wrong.
But Baz looks like something else in this light. With the moon shining down on him, he could be a statue carved out of marble, the sharp angles of his face throwing parts of his face into shadow… but at the same time, he’s never looked softer.
His hair is falling a little into his eyes, but before Simon can move to brush it away, Baz is leaning forward and pressing his mouth to Simon’s, and Simon loses his train of thought completely.
He reaches up and runs his fingers through Baz’s hair, pushing it away from his face, and he feels Baz’s hands rest on his back, tugging him closer. They separate briefly, gasping a little for air, and then their lips meet again, in a space somewhere between the whistling of the wind and the erratic beating of their hearts.
Baz murmurs Simon’s name against his lips, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and Simon relaxes into him, his mouth sliding away from Baz’s, trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck. Simon rests his head there, eyes closed, and he feels Baz’s cheek brush the top of his head.
“Do you have to go back to Bunce’s house tonight?” Baz asks, his voice quiet.
The night of the leavers ball is the last night students get to stay in their rooms, the rooms they’ve inhabited for eight years straight, before they leave it behind forever, strip the memories from the beds and walls and wardrobes to make space for whoever’s next.
Tonight. The last night Simon gets to share this room - their room - with Baz. And for once in eight years, it wouldn’t be painful. It would be beautiful.
Simon shakes his head against Baz’s neck. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
‘Next year, let’s go on a proper holiday,’ Raphael said.
‘Camping is a proper holiday!’ Simon insisted, looking offended.
‘Holidays don’t involve tramping miles and miles through endless trees, getting stung by wasps, and spilling the only water we have.’
Simon smiled guiltily. ‘I didn’t notice that tree root.’
‘I told you not to walk and drink at the same time.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Simon said. ‘It’s not like we’re going to die of thirst out here. We’ll find the way out before then.’
Raphael did not have the heart to remind Simon that people did die of thirst in situations like this. You only thought it was different when it was yourself because it’s so difficult to imagine the inevitability of your own death.
‘At least we have food,’ Simon said, waving his cheese sandwich through the air, some of the cheese falling out into his lap. ‘We have shelter.’ He pointed to the tent behind them. ‘And we have warmth. ‘He indicated the small fire they had built up. ‘And it’s not like we’ve completely run out of water. We still have one bottle left.’
‘Do you have to be so optimistic all the time?’
Simon giggled. ‘Only you would see optimism as a problem.’
‘Everything I do is annoying, right?’
‘Since you mention it, yes. Can I can some of that sandwich?’
Simon laughed and held out the sandwich for Raphael to take a bite.
‘Seriously though, next year we are not going camping. We can do anything you want, but no more camping. Ever.’
‘I just thought it would be fun,’ Simon shrugged. ‘We went camping once when I was a kid and it was really fun.’
‘I’m guessing you were not in charge of navigation?’
‘I was twelve, so no.’
‘Why did you tell me you could read maps then?’
‘I assumed I could!’
‘Dios mio. How did I get stuck with you?’
Simon grinned. ‘It was your choice.’
When Raphael woke up it took a few minutes to figure out why he was cold. When he remembered he was in a tent in the middle of the woods he relaxed, recalling that he and Simon had gone camping. But the cold still didn’t feel right.
Where’s Simon? he thought.
He sat up. Simon wasn’t in the tent. The absence of his body heat was why Raphael felt cold.
The front of the tent was zipped up. He definitely remembered Simon being there when he’d fallen asleep, but Simon’s sleeping bag felt cold. It had been empty for a while.
Raphael opened the tent and crawled out. He glanced around. The cold remains of last night’s fire littered the ground a few meters away and Simon was nowhere in sight.
Raphael called his name a few times and got no answer back. He swore under his breath and kicked a tree, the only result being that he hurt his foot and swore louder.
Raphael spun round and saw Simon looking at him with his brow furrowed in confusion, his glasses slipping down his nose.
‘Where were you?’ Raphael demanded. ‘I thought you’d been eaten by a bear or abducted by aliens or something!’
‘I don’t think there are bears or aliens in this part of the country.’
‘Well knowing your luck,’ Raphael snapped. ‘Where were you?’
‘I woke up and I needed to, you know… So I went in the bushes but then I thought I heard traffic so I followed the sound and I found a road. I found a way out, Raphael!’
Raphael stared at him for several seconds before saying, ‘I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you.’
‘I’d prefer you didn’t do the first one.’
Raphael put his arms around Simon and buried his face in his neck. ‘You could have gotten lost.’
Simon gently rubbed Raphael’s back. ‘I didn’t though, it’s fine. We should probably get going before we get abducted by bears or eaten by aliens or whatever it was though. Just in case they do live in this part of the country.’
The “Enjoy Eastside Beer and Ale” billboard dates this as post-Prohibition 1930’s. A westward view of Wilshire as seen from Commonwealth. Simon’s Sandwiches is at lower left, the Town House Hotel is opposite, and a block down the street is Bullock’s.