#also yes please Marie. a moment. a quiet moment pls.

[spockvarietyhour]

We're talking smoking in an office not say, money laundering or methamphetamine production and distribution.....

[illfoandillfie]

please give me Anything himbo roger i need this like perhaps... him being obsessed with eating pussy? pls? - cloud anon

I’m so so so glad you requested more himbo rog because i love any excuse to write him lmao. This is a bit of a long one, certainly well over blurb length but what are you gonna do. I just have a lot of thots where himbo rog is concerned and then there was that convo a little while ago about dressing him in a maid uniform and I had to use it in here. 

warnings: smut, hypnosis & bimbofication, dom!reader, fingering, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, a little bit of spanking, a little choking, a very brief mention of public sex, free use (perhaps leaning ever so slightly into consensual non consent), humiliation and degradation

Blurb Advent: Day 15

Future Management Series (all my bimbo/himbo writing)

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini  

The costume shop was quiet when you entered it, one of the fluorescent lights at the far end flickering. The lady at the counter looked up from her magazine, her gaze lingering on Roger for a moment before she looked back down.

“What was the theme again?” you asked Roger as you flicked through a rack of women’s costumes.

“The letter M,” he replied from one of the other racks.

“How did Freddie pick that?”

“Dunno, you’d have to ask him. Bigger question is what are we going to wear.”

“What about Mickey and Minnie Mouse?” you shrugged.

“That sounds easy. And we’d look cute as fuck.”

“Sorry, hun,” the woman at the counter piped up, “Sold out of them two days ago.”

“Rats.”

“Mice, love,” Roger teased poking his tongue out as he went to check out another row of costumes, “We could make them from scratch I suppose.”

“Left it a bit late though. We’re meant to have them by Saturday.” You headed to the counter in the hopes that the woman there would be able to speed things up, “Do you have any other costumes starting with M then?”

She sighed as she were being interrupted in a very important task before putting down her magazine and pulling out a binder full of lists of stock. Flicking through it she located the section with M. An awful lot of it had been crossed out.

“How many people are invited to this thing? And do they all shop here?”

He shrugged as he joined you at the counter, “Roughly half of London if his last party was anything to go by. What are our options?”

The women smiled at Roger, her attitude becoming much friendlier now that he was involved, “Not a lot I’m afraid. We’ve still got a Mummy, as in Ancient Egypt, ummm, a Maid, as in French, Marilyn Monroe, Mary Poppins, a Monk, Mrs Clause, Medieval Princess…”

“Looks like you’ll be easy to sort out,” Roger said to you, “not much in the way of mens costumes though. I’d be an alright Mummy I guess,”

“Sorry, should have specified. It’s a women’s costume that one. Very sexy,”

“How do you make a Mummy sexy?”

“Strategically removed bandages. I can show you if you like,” she said this last part to Roger, suggestion dripping from every word.

“What about the Monk?” you suggested.

“Ehhhh,”

“Beggars can’t be choosers Rog.”

“Alright, it’s the backup idea. Would I be able to fit in any of those other costumes though?”

The woman thought about it, giving Roger a once over as if measuring him with just her eyeballs, “The Maid maybe. Think we should have one large enough.”

“Alright I’ll try that.”

“And I’ll go Marilyn Monroe?”

“You as Marilyn? Oh there’s a joke in there somewhere…something about How To Mary A Millionaire?”

You shook your head at him, “Just go and try on your dress,”

It was a good thing Roger had no qualms about cross dressing because the maid outfit fit perfectly. One look at Roger’s legs in the short, ruffled skirt had your mind whirring with ideas. He bought both your costumes, adding in a maid’s headband and fishnet stockings for himself and a blond Marilyn wig for you. And on Saturday night you watched him don the outfit once more, struggling to keep your hands off him. Without you knowing, he’d gone and bought himself a pair of simple black heels, explaining that if he was going to do it he might as well do it properly. Unfortunately for you they just emphasised the shape of his legs in the fishnets and made his hips sway as he walked.

 The party itself was fun but you constantly found yourself zoning out, thinking about what you’d like to do to Roger before he got out of the dress.

“Love?” he asked, making you blink yourself back to the thumping music and loud voices, “You alright?’

“Fine,” you nodded.

Roger frowned and grabbed your hand, leading you away from the main throng of people, “You’ve been zoning out all night, are you sure you’re okay? Haven’t had too much to drink or anything?”

“No, it’s fine. Someone lit up a joint before and I must have breathed in some of it without meaning to.”

He gave you a look like he knew there was more to it.

“Also, maybe I can’t stop thinking about trancing you in that dress.”

“Oh,” his eyes widened and if it hadn’t been as dark as it was you would have seen a light pink stain creeping up his neck. He glanced around and then pulled you off down the hall and towards an even quieter spot, “and um, what might that look like?”

“I don’t know, got a few ideas,” your breath hitched as Roger pushed you into a dark corner of whichever room you’d ended up in, “like the idea of you on your knees. Bet I could see your arse if you leaned forward enough.”

Roger attached his lips to your throat, oblivious of if anyone else was around.

“Maybe spanking you or edg – ” you were cut off as Roger kissed you full on the mouth, his hands already working at getting his underwear and stockings down far enough to get his dick out.

“We’ll continue this conversation at home,” he said as he lifted you up, pushing your back against the wall as he moved your underwear aside.

 It took a couple of days for the topic to come up again but Roger was still just as into it as he had been at the party. He’d clearly been thinking about it too because he had almost as many ideas as you did and for a week or so you discussed it on and off. It came up intermittently, sometimes a single idea out of nowhere.

“What if you tranced me and made me think I was your maid or uhhh servant? Maybe like acted really strict? Or mean even?”

“What about I get a bell to ring to get your attention but use the hypnosis to condition you to get hornier when you hear it?”

Or sometimes it was more of a conversation with each of you building on what the other said.

“What do you think about exploring that free use thing we talked about a few months ago? Like me just having you how I want and when I want.”

“Would that require a more extended hypnosis? A whole day maybe? More?”

“No I don’t think so. I mean, maybe longer than the usual couple of hours. An afternoon? Not longer than a day though, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that to you.”

“Then yeah okay, we did agree it sounded hot in a non-hypno way so mixing them together should work. Um, what about that pegging thing we tried?”

“You wanna do it again?”

“Yeah I think so. Again, it was pretty hot last time so doing it while I’m hypnotised can only be better, right?”

“Are you sure? We’re both pretty new to it.”

“Yeah I’m sure. I really enjoyed it,” he laughed nervously, “and I would have suggested doing it again anyway, this just seems like a good excuse.”

By the end of the week you had a pretty solid idea about what you were both looking for from the scene and what you’d both feel comfortable doing. And you arranged it so you were both at home on Friday, free to spend the morning relaxing and the afternoon playing.

After an early lunch in which you made sure to mess up the kitchen, Roger went and changed, once again putting on the dress, fishnets, hair piece and shoes. Only this time he wore one of your thongs, sheer black, underneath and a butt plug you’d picked up for him, complete with a pink jewel on the end. For your part, you dressed in one of your work outfits with a grey pencil skirt and white blouse, hopeful that it would make you seem more authoritative. Roger did a little spin for you when he was dressed and then sat in one of the kitchen chairs so you could talk him down into his trance. The scenario you’d agreed upon had him believing he was your silly brainless maid, hired to do whatever you asked. The sound of your bell meant you had another task for him, but it also made him extra horny. So horny in fact that he’d have trouble remembering what he was meant to be doing. As you dropped him deeper and he relaxed more, you noticed his legs spreading further open, making you laugh to yourself. Finally you rang the bell to wake him.

Roger grinned at you from the chair, “What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Your first job of the day, Dummy,” you said, putting on a stern voice that left no room for argument, “is to dust off the bookshelf in the living room. It’s filthy up there.”

“Where?”

“Through this doorway,” you pointed and he dutifully stood up and began to walk toward it.

“You’ll need a duster,” you reminded him.

“Oh! Of course, Ma’am. Umm….”

“In that cupboard,”

Roger nodded, cheeks pink with embarrassment and retrieved the feather duster.

You followed him out to the living room, watching his skirt bounce with each step. He started off with the shelves at eye level, humming to himself as he brushed the duster over them, but soon had to move on to the shelves higher up. You perched yourself on the couch, acting as if you were reading though your eyes were on Roger, watching as he wobbled on his tip toes, his skirt riding up. You rang the bell and Roger jolted, looking around for you as he bit his lip.

“Yes Ma’am?”

“I think you might need to stand on a chair, Dummy. It doesn’t seem like you can reach the top shelves.”

He nodded and hurried to retrieve one, nearly running in his haste to please you.

The chair was a stroke of genius on your part. It gave you a good view up his skirt as he happily continued his dusting, especially when he leant over to get the far end of each shelf without moving his chair. You could clearly see the pink jewel every time and it made you eager to get him onto the next task. With another ring of the bell Roger jumped down to the ground and hurried to ask what he could do now.

“My shoes,” you said, pointing at the heels on your feet, “they need polishing. I want you to spit shine them for me.”

Roger blinked at you.

You clicked and pointed at your shoes again, “On your knees. C’mon, I’m not paying you to stand around and look pretty. Lick my shoes clean.”

“Yes Ma’am, sorry Ma’am,” he bowed his head and dropped to his knees where he stood, crawling over to you.

“Good Dummy,” you said as he trailed his tongue over the toe of your shoe. You’d wiped down the shoes earlier just to make sure Roger wouldn’t pick up any germs from them, but he was too brainless to notice they were already clean, enthusiastically licking at them. You made it clear you were watching him closely though. Midway through the second shoe you saw him brush his hand over the front of the skirt and stopped his shoe shining.

“I’m sorry, Dummy, is this making you horny?”

“Yes, Ma’am, it is,”

“Show me how much,” you wiggled your shoe under the hem of the skirt and pressed it lightly up, rubbing the toe against his crotch, “Hump my shoe, Maid.”

Without any more encouragement he began doing exactly as you’d asked, dragging his clothed cock along the top of your shoe, letting his eyes shut as he bit his lip.

“Alright, enough.” You pulled your food free and held it out in front of you, “Is it my imagination or did you make a mess on my shoe?”

He tilted his head to the side.

“I think you’re so fucking horny you’ve got precum all over my shoe. Is that right?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well,” you grabbed him by the hair and pushed him over the streak, “clean it up and tell me.”

Roger whimpered as you pulled his hair to move him where you wanted but thanked you for helping him and confirmed you were right. After that you felt he deserved a reward so you readjusted yourself, pulling your pencil skirt a little higher up your legs before you rang the bell again.

Roger groaned quietly at the sound, his breathing a little harder than before and then sat back. His eyes fell to where your skirt was gathered against your thigh as you crossed your legs.

“What now Ma’am?” he watched closely as you recrossed your legs, “Is there something else you’d like me to lick?”

“I don’t know. Is there something else you’d like to lick?”

He nodded, eyes still firmly on your thighs.

“Aren’t you just a pathetic little slut.”

“Am I?”

“I’m afraid so. Do you understand why?”

Roger nodded, still staring at your crotch, and then shook his head.

“Oh Dummy. It’s one thing to be my good little maid and eat me out when I tell you to, it’s entirely different for you to ask to do it. Do you see how slutty that makes you?”

Roger tilted his head and then shook it.

You tutted at him and knocked the bell as if on accident.

He whined at the sound.

“Crawl to the dining room. I want you to wash the floor in there.”

“But…please? I want to lick you soooooo bad and I’d be so good at it.”

“Careful, Maid. Now crawl.

“Yes Ma’am.” Roger dipped his head in apology and began crawling to the next room.

You stepped around him to retrieve a bucket of water and a cloth, placing both on the floor of the dining room where he stopped, “You know what to do.”

He looked at the bucket and back to you, confusion written all over his face.

With an exaggerated and exasperated sigh you handed him the cloth and, taking hold of his wrist, plunged his hand into the warm water. He gasped as you then wrenched it free and dropped it to the floorboards.

“Scrub.”

He nodded, looking mildly upset and dragged the cloth slowly over the floor.

You watched for a little while before coming up behind him, “Put your back into it, stop being lazy.” you pressed his upper back with your foot to make him bend forward.

His neck and face were bright pink, though it was hard to say whether it was arousal or embarrassment that was making him flush more. He did as you asked though, scrubbing the floor harder. You stepped behind him again, admiring the view and occasionally reminding him what you expected. After you felt you’d watched him struggle enough you stepped up behind him again. He pushed the cloth harder, expecting another reprimand. Instead you trailed you hand over the curve of his arse, pushing his skirt up higher.

Roger stilled, though you heard him whine softly into the floor.

“You’re doing a very good job, Dummy.”

He gasped when you suddenly spanked him but he pushed his arse back against your hand.

“You want another?”

He shook his head but kept pressing back against you.

“But I think you do,” You gave him another spank, “Now keep being good and see if you can earn some more.”

He nodded and smiled, though there were tears in his eyes, and then returned to scrubbing the floor.

 You let him go for a while, stepping out into the other room to calm down and get ready for the next part of the plan. You could feel your wetness pooling in your underwear with how turned on you were at ordering Roger around and how much he was enjoying it. Originally you were going to make him wait to get you off until after you’d fucked him but perhaps you could have your cake and eat it too. All the same you headed to the bedroom to gather the strap and dildo you’d bought when the topic of pegging had first arisen between you. You grabbed them and the lube and then put them down again as you considered your next move. The conclusion you came to was that there wasn’t much point having a desperate bimbo toy if you were only going to deny yourself. Roger came as much as he wanted when you were the one under his influence, so why shouldn’t you do the same. You quickly shimmied out of your underwear, and then picked everything up again, dropping it on the couch in the living room on your way back to see how Roger was getting along. He was still scrubbing though he’d spilt some of the water as he’d moved the bucket, the top of his dress wet in patches. You pulled out one of the chairs, standing in front of it as you rang the bell, and watched as Roger squirmed at the sound.  

“What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Come here.”

He immediately dropped the cloth and crawled towards you.

“Good Dummy. Need your fingers to make me feel good.” You rucked your skirt up and dropped onto the seat, placing one leg up on the table.

Rogers eyes lit up and he leaned forward as if to lick hungrily along your slit.

You grabbed his hair and held him back.

“Ma’am?” Roger whined, struggling against your grip with his tongue hanging out, desperate to reach your cunt.

“I said fingers, slut.”

Roger whimpered again but brought his hand up, trailing his fingers along your slit.

“That’s right Dummy. You’re gonna finger me and make me cum and you’re going to keep your eyes up here so I know you’ll behave yourself.”

He nodded rapidly, his eyes on yours, “You’re wet,”

“You know how much I like watching your cute little arse work. C’mon, finger me,” you instructed, waiting until he’d sunk one digit into you before continuing, “Love seeing you with that pretty plug. Makes me want to use you.”

“Ma’am can I…?”

“I didn’t say you could talk. Focus.”

Roger’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled his finger out and pressed it back in.

“You look confused Slut. What’s the matter?”

“Is this good?”

You smiled indulgently at that, half convinced he’d been about to ask to eat you out again, “So good Dummy. Add a second finger.”

He did as you asked, automatically curling them against you as he pulled them out.

“You’re such a good, obedient servant.” You relaxed back into the chair, letting Roger find a good rhythm.

He was quiet for a bit, concentrating, and then “Can I lick you now?”

You made a tutting noise, “I thought you understood your position.”

“Pos-tition?”

“I guess I have to explain it again then. I don’t care if you like licking cunt, this isn’t about you. You’re my maid. Your job is to serve me however I want, remember? I don’t care if you want something different. You’re mine to use how and when I want. Those were the conditions I hired you under, do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am,”

“Are you sure? Then why haven’t I cum yet?”

Roger kept his eyes locked on yours as he sunk a third finger into you, pumping them faster and bringing his other hand up to rub your clit.

“Better,” you managed to get out, though it was much breathier than you’d intended.

Roger poked his tongue out between his teeth as he put all his energy into pleasuring you. You let your head drop back, rocking your hips in time with his thrusts as he sank his fingers deep into you, his other hand firmly occupied too. He slid his thumb between your lips and up to circle your clit, spreading your arousal over your cunt. The mixture of sensations sent you over the edge without too much delay, your legs clamping shut to keep his hand where you wanted it until you’d come down. Afterwards you made Roger hold his fingers up, cleaning them off with your own tongue. He whined and pouted as he watched you lick up your juices, so desperate to taste you for himself. You gave him a small concession though, grabbing his cheeks when you were done to force his mouth open. He looked confused as you brought your face close and spat onto his tongue, your saliva tinged with what you’d just licked from his fingers. But he thanked you with a big smile and a small hum of satisfaction as he swallowed it.

“What now Ma’am?” he asked softly, sitting up straighter and glancing at the bell.

You bumped the bell against your palm as if in thought, watching Roger wince with each ring, “The kitchen needs a tidy up. Go in there and wipe down all the benches for me, okay? I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

Roger nodded and walked on unsteady legs back through the house. You followed him, needing to point him in the right direction a couple of times, and then continued on to the living room to collect your supplies and remove your skirt. It took you a little while to figure out the harness. Last time Roger had helped you get set up so doing it on your own was a little confusing. You took a breath and reminded yourself you were a smart and capable woman and that you could figure out a simple sex toy on your own, and eventually got it on right. When you were comfortable you popped open the lube and spread more than you thought you’d need along the shaft of the toy. It still felt a little bizarre to look down and see a penis, even if it was obviously fake. The first time you’d tried it on you’d wondered aloud if the work you did for those living rough would have been easier to achieve if you had a real one and Roger had suggested you wear it to work one day and find out. You’d laughed at how ridiculous that was and the memory made you chuckle again as you double checked everything was in the right place.

Roger was in the kitchen when you arrived, standing at the bench with a cloth in his hand, humming to himself, though he seemed to have forgotten what he was meant to be doing. You stepped behind him and ran your hand up the inside of his thigh, over the stockings.

The humming stopped and he stilled, “Ma’am?”

“Bend over.”

He did as you asked, his chest and arms leaning on the bench.

You felt him up, letting your hands roam under his skirt, brushing over his cock and along his thigh and over his arse, making his shiver and whine. “Good thing this dress is so short, Dummy. Makes it so much easier for me. And it makes you look like a slut. You’re very hard by the way, does that mean you like it when I tell you what to do?”

His voice was soft when he spoke to the bench top, “Yes, Ma’am,”

“That’s good because I like telling you what to do. And you should be happy to know that I’m wet from watching my brainless maid working all day.”

“I am happy!”

“You are?”

“Mmhmm. Maybe I could help you Ma’am, I love cunt so much.”

“Aww Dummy,” you cooed, stroking your fingers through his hair, “That’s sweet of you to offer but it’s not what I want right now,” you took the fishnets in both hands and tugged until a rip formed right along the back, “For now I want you to stay bent over for me so I can use you. Just like I talked about before, remember?”

“When you said I’m yours to use how you want?”

“You do remember! Good boy!”

“And you said, ummmm,” he gasped as you moved his underwear aside and began slowly working the plug out of him, adding lube to make it easier

“Go one, what else did I say?” you asked as you pushed the plug back in, fucking him with it, adding more lube as necessary.

“Umm, you said they were the,” he stretched out the word as he thought hard, “oh! The co-com-bit-ons and that its, umm, my job to serve you?”

“Very good! That was so much to remember, I’m very impressed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dummy. I think I’ll have to give you a reward for remembering it all so well.”

Roger looked over his shoulder at you, grinning, “Thank you Ma’am,”

“Alright, turn back around, I’m still going to use you. Because….?”

“Because I’m yours?”

“Good boy,” you pulled the plug free and placed it on the bench beside you. Squeezing some more lube onto your fingers you began spreading it over his arsehole.

“‘s cold,” he said softly to the bench.

“I know baby, but it won’t be for long. And I gotta make sure there’s enough so that I don’t hurt you. And then you’ll be all ready for my cock.”

Roger nodded, flattening himself on the bench as you lined up the tip of the dildo and slowly sank into him.

Roger made a high pitched keening noise and you reached out to stroke his hair again as he adjusted.

“You okay, baby?” you asked letting the stern act drop for a moment.

Roger nodded, “yeah, ‘m okay. Just feels funny.”

“But good though?”

“Mmhmm. Good.”

“Good. I want you to like it. It’s more fun when you do.”

“I do!” as if to prove it he pushed his hips back, making you sink a little deeper.

“I can see that,” you laughed, “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay Dummy, and you’re going to enjoy it, right?”

He nodded, whining as you pulled your hips back slowly and then thrust forward again, figuring out your rhythm and adjusting to the sort of muscle movement it required. As you got more comfortable with it you let yourself be a little firmer, grasping Roger’s waist and fucking him harder, drawing more gasps and whines and moans from him. You varied your speed, sometimes faster and sometimes slower, keeping Roger from knowing exactly what you would do next (and giving yourself a break every so often). He’d taken your instruction to enjoy it to heart though. His fingernails scraped along the top of the bench as he tried to ground himself, rocking his hips back against you whenever you slowed.

“I want you to cum, Dummy. Rub your cock through your pretty sheer panties.”

“Th-through?”

“Over your panties.”

“Um,”

You stilled your hips and pulled out of him so you could grab his hand and lift his skirt, placing his palm over his cock, “now rub.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he began to stroke himself. His hand stilled as you plunged into him again but a warning word made him remember what you wanted and he shakily followed your orders as you fucked him hard.

“How does it feel, Maid, being used for my entertainment?”

Roger babbled something incomprehensible in response. You couldn’t tell if it was just noise or if he’d been trying to form words but it was hot either way.

“C’mon, show me how much you like being my pretty little fuck doll. Be the pathetic little slut I know you are, and cum.” You panted between the words but Roger didn’t seem to notice or if he did he didn’t care. It must have sounded authoritative enough because a few seconds later he was moaning, his fingers twitching and legs shaking as he came. You slowed to a stop and replaced the dildo with his plug again before fixing his underwear and smoothing down his skirt.

“There, all pretty again,”

“Thank you Ma’am,” he sighed.

You patted his head, “Finish up cleaning off the benches in here and I’ll have another job for you.” You walked off, releasing a long breath once you were out of his hearing.

 In the time it took you to get out of the harness, put your skirt back on, throw the dildo into a sink of hot water and relocate the bell, Roger achieved very little. He hadn’t moved from where you’d bent him over though he had stood up and grabbed his cloth again, drawing circles with it over the benchtop. When you came back to get him for his next job he was shifting from foot to foot.

“What’s the matter, Dummy?”

“Nothing,”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded though he didn’t meet your eye.

“Tell me.”

“My panties…”

“Aww, is it a bit uncomfortable?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Well maybe I can distract you.” You rang the bell and watched as his eyes glazed over and his hips jolted. “The bed needs to be made Dummy. Go on, off you go.”

He nodded and hurried off, his heels clicking against the wooden floorboards, his step awkward as he squirmed in discomfort. You followed him and showed him where to get a clean sheet from, watching as he pottered around the bed pulling off all the bedding, throwing them into a pile on the floor. Putting a new fitted sheet on the mattress seemed to be too hard a task though. It was almost cartoonish how much he struggled, placing the wrong corner of the sheet on the wrong corner of the bed and then somehow repeating the same mistake when he tried to turn the sheet around. He wouldn’t stand still, uncomfortably dancing around in his cum soaked underwear, getting more and more frustrated as the corner he thought he’d got on flew up when he tried to fit the next one. Every so often you jangled the bell under the guise of getting his attention to give him a helpful tip or reprimand him for taking so long, but it had the added effect of turning him on more than he already was, his face flushed and his eyes begging. You let him continue for a few minutes and then, when he next turned in response to your bell, you surprised him by pushing him onto the mattress.

“Ma’am?” he asked, voice trembling as you positioned yourself on his thigh and pushed his dress up.

“You made such a mess before, didn’t you? Ruined your panties and I’m afraid it’s spread to your pretty dress,” you showed him the patches on the inside of the skirt from where it had rubbed against the sheer fabric of his knickers and been stained. “Lucky for you I like messy little sluts. And” you palmed him roughly, “I think you like it too. Already hard again?”

Roger shook his head but tilted his head back and whined.

You placed your hand over his throat, “Don’t lie to me, Maid. I can see it; I can feel it. You’re a dirty little slut who gets off on being my property. My dumb little fuck doll.” You punctuated the last sentence by grinding against his thigh with each word, squeezing his length through his stained underwear. “I’m going to make you cum again now and if you’re good I might see about letting you eat me out. I did promise you a reward earlier,”

“Please,” Roger whimpered, “I’ll make you feel so, so good.”

“I know, Dummy. But not yet.” You squeezed his throat at the same time you rubbed your hand over his cock, choking off the moan that had begun to build. Roger squirmed under you as you wanked him off, cooing at him about how pretty he looked and how wet it was making you. Each stroke along his shaft was accompanied by a breathy whine or moan, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut. It was always fun to watch Roger be pushed towards release when he was tranced. It was fun when he wasn’t hypnotised either but there was something about taking his brain away that made him more animated and vocal. He babbled at you again, his hand grabbing your wrist as he got closer, his back arching as he tried to buck his hips up into you.

“Good boy, good Dummy,” you praised him as he finished, able to feel the warmth of his release fill the material again as you kept stroking him, milking every drop you could. He whined loudly as he became more sensitive, but you kept toying with him until tears began leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“Alright, Dummy, stay there while I take my skirt off.”

Roger remained lying where you left him, so you gave him a soft kiss and wiped away his tears, praising him a little more, before you swung your leg over his face and finally let him have what he wanted.  

 It was as if you’d told him he’d won the lottery. He just about cheered as he thanked you repeatedly and then wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you down onto his tongue. You had to stick out an arm to try and steady yourself as he devoured you, excitedly tracing your lips with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth. He hummed and whimpered against you and used his hands to encourage you to rock yourself against his mouth, spreading your wetness across his face. At one point, so giddy with joy, he giggled, and you jolted at the bizarre tickling sensation of his breath. But that just seemed to spur him on as he licked and sucked every inch of your cunt he could reach. You weren’t sure if his end goal was to make you cum or if he just got very excited and enthusiastic about pussy but, either way, the result was the same. It was impossible to hold back your release as his tongue slid along your folds and his lips latched onto you. He hummed as you gasped and tensed above him, refusing to stop until you pried his hands from your thighs and let yourself fall back to the bed. He pouted as if he wanted to throw a tantrum at having his favourite food taken away, but you managed to make him smile by telling him how incredible you felt and how good he was.

He let you lie down next to him and listened quietly as you talked him out of the trance, reminding him who he was and the reality of your situation. You waited as Roger opened his eyes, stroking his hair back from his face softly as everything returned to him.

“Wow,” was the first thing he said, “That was,” he cleared his throat and pushed himself to sit up, “that was something.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, a very fun something,” he hurried to clarify so you wouldn’t worry, “I take it you enjoyed yourself too?”

You laughed and nodded, “Definitely. This is going to sound bad but I like being mean to you.”

“I get it,” he leaned over to kiss you softly, “I like being mean to you too.”

“And the pegging and free use stuff? All of that was okay? How do you feel now?”

“Oh, better than okay. That was brilliant. We’re definitely playing with them more in the future. Bit sore now and I really, really want to get out of this thong. Also take the plug out.”

“I can arrange that. D’you want some help with the plug?”

“Yes please.” Roger shifted onto his stomach, trying to relax so you could peel off the underwear and slowly wiggle the plug out of his arse, “Add these knickers to the list of ones I’ve ruined though.”

“That’s only cause I get such a kick out of making you cum in your pants.”

He hummed, wincing a little as the plug slipped all the way out, “y’know one of these days I’m going to wake up from a trance and decide to gag you with whatever underwear you made me destroy while I keep eating you out. I still have a bit of a lingering need to have my head between your legs and I do so enjoy overstimulating you.”

“Save that for a special occasion,” you laughed, giving his bum a tap to let him know he could roll over, “C’mon, shall I run us a bath?”

Roger nodded and let you pull him up, kissing you softly before he stood on slightly wobbly legs followed you out of the bedroom.

[battybumboy]

But he was falling |Pt 2 | Thomas Thorne

Part two of And he was falling. I decided that leaving this story on a cliff hanger wasn’t fair. :p

There isn’t any other ghosts characters xReaders that I know of on the Internet... sooo... I had to make more!

Thomas Thorne x Female reader

Find and read part one here! :

Enjoy part 2!- xx 🍯

______________________________

Two glassy eyes look at the figure opposite them “Henry?”

“You shouldn’t be here! You’re a criminal!”

“I came to see you! You know how painful this day is!”

“You have no rights to be sad! You’re involved with the thing that caused this mess! You’ve picked your side!”

“I didn’t only travel here for that! I came to see you as well!”

“You shouldn’t have bothered! You need to leave!”

___

“L/N?”

“L/N?”

The pirate jumped at the feeling of someone tapping her shoulder and was immediately brought back to her senses by the dozens of eyes that were looking at her with expectant gazes.

“I’m sorry chaps, I must’ve started daydreaming. Repeat the question?” The other ghost, Julian, groaned in mild annoyance as the other ghosts sighed along with him.

“Who do you think would win a game of chess when we were alive. Me, or Pat?”

“Oh, uhm... that depends on how much chess you both played in your lives. Well, I knows that Pat was a man who liked many ‘a game so Pat I suppose. No hard feelings Julian- it’s just that if you were to play during your life... it would soon evolve into more than a game of chess.” This was met with a moment of agreeing murmers.

“I see your reasoning and I must say, you’re quite right.” The MP replied, “You know, one night, me and Margot- we were having a spot of chess- and, you see, we were slightly tipsy after having... one to many glasses of wine and I- we-” Julian’s speech was suddenly interrupted with a number of groans from his peers, all attention now lost from Y/N, “Anecdote, people! I’m telling an anecdote!”

“Yes. Very good, Julian. Now that this silly debate is over, which has gone on- quite frankly- long enough, we can get on with what I have to say.” The Captain spoke, “Right. I have a complaint about something we all know has been going on for quite a while now...” he paused to look at the blank faces surrounding him before resting his eyes on a particular person, “What ever is the matter, Thorne! You’ve been- sitting around like a pile of melancholy limbs ever since that argument we had! If this is about what I said, please know that it was a heat of the moment thing.”

“Oh no... it’s quite alright. In fact, it rather opened my eyes to the subject of my love for Alison.” This to was met with an ovation of groans as the poet continued, “I’ve realised that Micheal and Alison’s love is a bond unbreakable by a hand of no flesh. I shall cease my wooing for no where will it get me if I want the love of another but Alison. Me and Alison were so close, yet so far. Our ships are never to get closer, yet lie in the same port on opposite sides of the dock. I know that although my heart will suffer... I’m doing the right thing and everything will be ok.”

“Wow...” came the small reply from Julian as everyone looked at Thomas, his head bowed and eyes closed softly. An overwhelmed silence lay over the other ghosts as they looked upon their most irritating housemate in shock

“That’s a lot of emotional baggage.” Julian continued, causing Y/N to lightly hit his shin with the toe of her boot before giving him a half amused glare.

“Yes, t’was what I thoughts. Lots and lots of emotions.” Chipped in Mary.

“Quite melodramatic If you ask me.”

“Well it’s a good thing no one did then, isn’t it, Cap?” Y/N replied, playfully.

“It’s Cap-tain” the Captain answered back, fondly.

“Did I stutter?” she winked playfully before turning back to face the majority of the crowd before Pat spoke up,

“I believe it was very brave of you to share that Thomas.”

“Oh pl-ease! It’s not like there’s anything he doesn’t share with us!” commented the mildly amused MP,

“I think it’s healthy for people to share their worries with the people they love!” Kitty replied, as always the sweet ball of sunshine,

“I seconds!” Exclaimed the peasant Stuart lady,

“Quite” Lady Button responded

“Well I do keep some things to myself.” The poet said, a soft smirk on his features for proving the politician wrong.

“Really? Like what?”

“That would be none of your concern, Julian.”

“But come on!”

“One hasn’t the must to share every woe they bare, ought they plead not to” Y/N chided, always the voice of reason.

“Easy for you to say, Captain Secretive! We don’t even know your first name!”

“Tell that to Cap over there.” She responded, rolling her eyes so hard that, if she were to roll them any harder, they’d have fallen out of her head,

“It’s... Cap-TAIN, L/N!”

“She has a point though, Captain.”

“She only told us her name because I was also a captain and you can only call one of us captain.”

“I felt the need not to be problematic... if the newly dead were to kick a fuss then it’s curtious to fix the problem they mewl ‘bout” Y/N said, before winking for the second time that hour.

“Yes but most of these lot went two, maybe three, centuries without any clue of your name.”

“Guys! Please! Settle down! Secrets of our lives can be kept a secret, secrets in general can be kept as secrets.” Pat said, directing the last part to the forgotten poet of whome was looking more more conflicted by each jab the other three ghosts threw at each other.

“A lady always keeps a secret!” Came Fanny’s stern reply,

“Aye, thank you, Lady Button.” the pirate replied, sending a grateful smile at the lady whome was only older in appearance, yet so much younger in age.

“I believe that the only secrets that should be shared are ones at sleepovers about people you have feelings for and want to start pining but need advice on how even though it might be unaccepted because of reasons to do with religion...oh and the secret that you ate or stole something you shouldn’t have” Kitty exclaimed, still smiling.

“That was oddly specific, Kitty.” Lady Button responded, eying the happy Georgian woman.

“Oh yeah, that’s because I once ate more cheese than I was supposed to” she said with a giggle as the rest of the room looked at the naive woman, brows raised,

“Not that one, Kitty, the other one.” Fanny corrected

“Oh? Oh yes! Does a bit... Just make sure the person your pining isn’t at the sleepover. That would be awkward... oh and the friends you’re with are ones that are trustworthy- people might tell the church.”

“Does there be witches?” Asked Mary, looking at Kitty’s faultering smile before a look of nervousness,

“Oh, I hope not. Well, at least I don’t think so.”

“Rights”

“I think they have by now”

“What?”

“Oh, you were just saying right...”

“Well, I agree with Katherine. Secrets that are held close can be kept secret”

“But t’isn’t the greatest sin to ask advice and spead few ‘a rumour on the status of ones love life.” Y/N countered

“On the subject of love, all of us love food... and that leads us on to food club!” Pat exclaimed excitedly

“Whoopie-doo” came The Captain’s sarcastic response before Mary stood up to tell the group about the best way to make butter.

“Thorne?” Y/N whispered quietly to her melancholy friend

“Hm?”

“Remember... if you need to talk, ‘bout anything at all...”

“Right- yes... I’ll.. tell you.”

The poet kept mentally denying the fact that he was slowly but surely catching feelings for his housemate but the nagging at his mind never stopped... neither did the frantic butterflys in his chest or the urge to be near her. But he resided in the fact that it would possibly go away and turn out to be a silly phase. At least he hoped, for his heart couldn’t bare to be rejected... not again.

He looked at her soft features and felt a twinge in his quiet heart. Thomas couldn’t help but smile at her softly; He didn’t want to love again...

But he was falling

____________________________________

I hope you liked part two! Part one did ok so I’m making it into a series! -🍯xx

Part 3-

[mrsalwayswritex]

Heart to Break

A/n: Not my gif, my bad. So I pulled a few of these from my franken-prompt list, I was only able to credit two prompts but they are:

“Why cant you just look at me for one goddamn second!” from /melamemea “I can’t be mad that I gave you my heart to break.” from /ericks-mala-actitud

all prompts used will be bolded!

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

word count: 3800

warnings: Cheating, Swearing

The moment you heard his name behind you, the urge to run away was stronger than anything you ever felt in your life. Your companion for the evening, your best friend Joe, heard it as well and his eyes softened quickly, his hand reaching across the table to hold yours.

“Do you wanna leave?” He asked softly, trying to meet your eyes, but you shook your head.

“No, I’ll be alright.” You gave him a weak smile, patting his hand with your other, “Thanks for being here with me.” You heard his deep laugh and your eyes closed on their own, drowning in the sound.

“Where is Marie?” You heard someone ask him, and you shook your head at Joe. You couldn't do this. It was not alright. “She stayed home tonight, told me to go out without her” You heard Ben answer, and your stomach turned. Home. 

Joe, sensing the panic that was rising, stood quickly, throwing down a few bills for the drinks and grabbed your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He rubbed his hands down both of your arms, walking behind you as you shuffled towards the door with your head down.

Chancing it, you lifted your head in the direction. Bad idea. Your eyes locked with his and his jaw dropped, he pushed himself off the bar and took a step towards you but you held up your hand, waving him off. Joe put his hand on your lower back and halfway pushed you out the door. Once outside you collapsed heavily against the wall, unwanted memories flooding your brain.

-

Four Months Ago

You almost couldn’t contain your excitement. It had been weeks since you had seen Ben, him being off on location filming for a new movie. Tomorrow morning he would be home and you couldn’t wait! You had been to Ben’s apartment a few times since he left, mostly to relax in silence, but also when you missed him too much you liked to sleep in his bed. Today however, you were going over to set up the apartment in the cutest way, as you had some big news for him.

You shuffled down the hall towards Ben’s apartment door, struggling slightly with the large box you were carrying, setting it down outside of the door. Sliding the key into the lock easily, you pushed the box inside with your foot. The first thing that you noticed was that the lamp next to the couch was on. ‘Hmm.’ you shrugged, waving a hand at it, obviously you had left it on earlier this week when you came by.

Humming to yourself, you sighed happily as you looked around the comfortably decorated room. Ben had asked you to move in right before he left and you told him not until the two of you could live together, you would wait for him to come home. Tomorrow. Your brain squealed and you smiled at the box you had brought with you. Taking one final look around the room, you walked over and tore the lid off of the box.

That was when you saw the next strange thing. Ben’s soft leather jacket was hanging on the hook. You swore he took that with him when he left. Mind immediately losing it's train of thought when you see his sneakers as well. Once your brain clicked into place your heart soared. Ben was home early. Since you hadn’t thought to listen to the quiet apartment, thinking it to be empty, you assumed he was asleep, and crept quietly towards his bedroom.

What you heard coming from behind the door made you grin wickedly. “Oh, f-fuck yes.” Your hand flew to cover your mouth quickly. “Jus’ like that, baby” you heard Ben mumble softly, your hand on the doorknob, totally prepared to bust your boyfriend jerking off, a smile planted on your face. “Shit, Marie.” Your playfulness gone in an instant, blood turning into ice in seconds. Hand frozen on the doorknob, you put your ear to the door, hoping that your ears were just playing tricks on you.

Then you heard it. Moaning. A woman moaning.

The tears pooled in your eyes quickly, hand still covering your mouth.

Ben was cheating on you.

In the same apartment he had invited you to live in with him, weeks prior.

Ben was cheating on you.

Your other hand slid around your stomach, hoping to self soothe.

Ben was cheating on you, and you were pregnant.

Squeezing your eyes shut quickly, you felt the dam break as the tears flowed freely. You didn't know what came over you, what possessed you to do what you did next.

You turned the knob, pushing the door open in one motion.

Opening your eyes to see the naked back of Marie, Ben’s makeup artist, straddling your boyfriend’s hips, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

“What the-” Ben's voice shouted, you watched him peek his head around Marie’s naked form. “Shit.” He breathed out, recognition washing over him. “Y/n, wait..” 

Hearing him say your name broke you. A sob ripping from your mouth, keeping one hand around your stomach, other hand flying back to cover your mouth. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the man you love and his makeup artist. The one he told you that you didn't need to worry about.

Shaking your head quickly, biting back another sob, you ran towards the front door. Ignoring Ben as he screamed your name, hearing his footsteps following behind you, you still didn't stop. You didn't stop until you were staring at the box you had brought with you, filled with various decorations you had bought to reveal your pregnancy. Anger flared inside you and after ripping open the door harshly, you maneuvered the box into your arms, slamming the door behind you, catching a quick glimpse of Ben’s naked form before it closed.

-

Present

When your brain snapped back to the now, you were greeted with the worried eyes of Joe, crouching in front of you. His hands were on your shoulders, gripping tightly. “Y/n? Are you back with me?” When you blinked at him a few times, he let go of your shoulders, hands extending to help you up. “You kinda disappeared on me for a minute there.” He watched with a smile as your hand absently rubbed softly over your growing stomach.

“I'm sorry, Joe.” You sighed, smiling down at your belly. “We just got a little lost in thought.” Putting a hand on your lower back, you let Joe pull you up so you were standing. This belly of yours was growing more and more every day and making it increasingly difficult for you to do little things, like standing up on your own.

“How long has it been?” Joe asked quietly, you didn't need to ask him to elaborate, you knew exactly what he meant. “Have you seen him since?” You shook your head softly. “Does he even know?”

“Based on his face when he saw us walking out? He knows now.” You smirked sadly, secretly hoping that you had ruined his whole evening. “I haven't seen him since he was underneath his makeup artist.” You spat out, wincing slightly as you felt a sharp kick to your side. “Hey, your daddy is an asshole, it's best you learn that now, little one.” You pointed your finger at your stomach, feeling another kick in response. “Don't you talk back to me like that, I am your mother.” Joe laughed at the scene, laughter dying in his throat when the door opened and Ben walked out.

“Y/n?” He asked taking a step towards you, as if he was seriously questioning whether it was you or not. Scoffing loudly and rolling your eyes, you turned your back to him. “Please talk to me.” He pleaded, taking another step forward. Joe put a hand out to him sadly, stopping him from coming any further. 

“Hey, let’s take this slow, okay?” Joe whispered to his friend. You knew that you were being selfish, keeping Joe to yourself. You wouldn't have even met Joe had it not been for Ben.

Ben got angry at Joe’s reaction, pushing his hand away. “Why can’t you just look at me for one goddamn second!” He shouted at you, putting his hand on your shoulder and spinning you around to face him, but you kept your eyes to the ground. “Can you give us some space, mate?” Ben spit angrily at Joe who was indeed hovering.

“Y/n?” He leaned his head back towards you, waiting for confirmation before leaving you alone.

Still looking at the ground, you nodded slightly. “It’s alright, Joey. I'll be alright.” You whispered, “Just a few minutes won’t hurt.” Joe nodded his head and ran his hand down your arm before stepping back inside. “What do you want, Benjamin.” You sighed, finally meeting Ben’s gaze, but he wasn’t looking at your face, his gaze was fixed on your swollen stomach. You wrapped your hands over it, clearing your throat. “Well?”

“I think we have a few things to talk about, yeah?” He glanced at your face for a second, eyes dropping back to your belly. “That being one of them.” He pointed at it, “Is it mine?” He questioned softly and you scoffed. “Joe’s?” At that you let out a bark of laughter.

“Are you joking?” You looked at him amused, “I almost wish it was Joe’s, just so you could see how it feels.” You scoffed again.

“Do you hate me?”

You smiled at him sadly, reaching out to touch his coat collar before pulling your hand back quickly. Sad acceptance washing over you turned to anger quickly. “Did you at least think of me?” You asked him bitterly, snorting at his confused expression. “When you were having sex with her?”

“Don't be like that, this is hard for me, you know?” He grit back.

“You think that this is easy for me?” Raising your voice louder, taking a step back and gesturing wildly at your stomach. “I came over that day to set up the place so I could tell you we were having a baby. I wasn't expecting to see you and your goddamn makeup artist who,” Your voice went high pitched and mocking, “I ‘don't need to worry about, love” you mocked his accent and he flinched back. “But I'm positively delighted to hear that you two are happily living together now. Tell me, Ben, does she enjoy the place we decorated together? The couch that we bought and broke in all in one day?” The tears were threatening to escape your eyes again.

“Y/n, please don't be like that.” He huffed this time, you raised your hand to cut him off.

“So how long were you two a thing before that day, huh? Was I excited to tell you I was having your baby while you were off screwing her in what was almost our bedroom?” The thought came to you quickly, pushing the air out of your body. Ben shook his head.

“Just a few times before that, honestly.” He rubbed his hand over his face, looking back at your stomach. “We’re really having a baby?” He reached his hand out and you let him touch the growing bump, you watched his face light up when you felt the kick under his touch, and that made the tears slip out.

“No, Ben, we are not.” You spoke softly, taking a step back effectively removing Ben’s hand. He looked at you with a mixture of hurt and confusion. “I am. You have Marie.” 

Ben’s jaw dropped open, “You’re kidding me right? Are you seriously that mad at me that you would keep my child away from me?”

“I can’t be mad that I gave you my heart to break, Ben.” You touched his face sadly, walking over to the door, opening it to signal to Joe that you were done here. “I won’t keep them from you, but I also will not play happy family with you.” You looked at him sadly, rubbing your belly. “You lost that right.”

“Them?” Ben’s eyes widened into saucers. You nodded at him with a small smile. “Y/n, wait please, let me fix this.” He reached for you but as soon as Joe walked out of the building, Ben’s face softened. “Please,” He begged.

“There isn't anything left to fix, you made sure that you shattered it to pieces that day.” You linked your arm with Joe’s and he smiled at you, touching your stomach freely and you could see the anger on Ben’s face. “Goodbye, Ben.” 

“Y/n, please wait.” He begged again, but this time you didn't turn around, you walked with Joe away from the man you loved again. 

“So?” Joe asked you as you wiped your eyes on your sleeve. “What are you going to do?”

“I can't play house with him, Joe.” You sighed, “It’s up to him now, sadly. It's his choice on what he wants from here on out. He can be a dad, or he can be someone who gave me the best goodbye gift in the world.” You smiled down at your stomach again. “At least something good came out of it.”

-

Months went by, Joe by your side the whole time. Ben made his choice clear the day after you saw him at the bar. He called you at least once a day, his first call telling you that Marie was gone, done and over with. It’s a start, you had thought to yourself that day. Every day after he would call you, begging to come over and talk, and today was the first time you agreed.

You were just starting your ninth month of pregnancy and you were much larger than the last time the two of you had seen each other. Ben’s face broke into a huge grin when you opened the door.

“You look absolutely beautiful, y/n.” He breathed out, standing in your doorway, holding a large bouquet of carnations, your favorite of course. “Gosh, there really are two of them in there isn't there?” He chuckled, looking at your comically large stomach.

“Either that, or i'll be giving birth to a minivan.” You chuckled, grabbing his hands and putting them on either side of your stomach, watching his face light up at the kicks he was feeling.

“Do you know what they are?” He questioned, handing you the flowers and dropping to his knees in front of you, putting his face on your bump. He looked up at you and smiled when you nodded your head happily. “You do?” His eyes lit up.

“Ben, these babies are coming any day now, of course I know what they are.” You smiled at his waiting face, “Oh did you want to know too?” You asked dramatically, Ben shaking his head so fast that you had to put a hand on his forehead to stop him from giving himself whiplash. You grabbed his hand and placed it on the left side of your stomach, “This little one over here is our baby girl,” Putting his other hand low on your right side, “and this is our son.” The word our slipping out easily, and you knew Ben caught it.

“We’re having one of each?” His eyes shone with wonder as he looked up at you, hands still held under yours on either side. “And you said ‘our’, does that mean I can be a part of this?” He questioned slowly, his smile growing when you nodded.

“If you want to be, I'm gonna need all the help I can get.” You whispered softly, “But i'm not ready for us to be us again, I don't know if I ever will. But I want our babies to have both of us around.” 

Ben nodded slowly, processing the new information. “I swear, y/n, I will be here as much as you will let me.” As if on cue, you felt a wetness seeping down your legs and your eyes widened. 

“Well now seems to be the best time to be here Ben.” You waddled towards your bedroom. “Cause it's time.” Ben followed you confused, as you pulled off your wet pants. 

“Time for what?” He asked slowly, leaning on your door frame as you pulled your shirt over your head too, tossing it aside. 

You smiled at his ignorance as you pulled a long loose dress over your head, it had taken you what felt like twenty minutes to put those pants on, not doing that now. “It's baby time, Ben.” Your smile grew as you watched his face light up again, clapping his hands together. 

“Oh, OH! Ok! What do you need to do now? Do you have a bag packed? Do you need me to pack it?” He fired off questions, you raised your hand to stop him, laughing at the crazed look in his eyes.

“Relax, Benny, all you need to do right now is take me to the hospital.” You walked over and struggled to reach the straps of your bag. “I lied, I need you to pick this bag up then take me to the hospital.” You grunted as you kept trying to reach the bag. Ben was quick to run beside you, easily picking up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Ok, shoes and hospital.” You nodded at him, Ben instantly running to your closet, you laughed again. “There is nothing in there that I can wear right now, Ben. Relax and help me to the damn car.” You slid on your sandals, the only thing that fit right now, and shuffled towards the door.

Ben held your hand in the car as another wave of contractions hit, yelling along with you when you screamed. Ben was trying to drive calmly but you knew that he had no idea what he was doing, it seemed like it was his first day driving and you had to laugh at him. He would look over at you and smile brightly and then start honking at the car in front of him.

“Relax, Ben.” You whispered again, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. “Wait, why am I telling you to relax? I'm the one having TWO babies..” Your laughter causes him to laugh too. When you finally reached the hospital, Ben pulled right up front, jumping out and helping you into the hospital and in no time, you were in a bed, machines being hooked up to your stomach. The moment the fetal heart monitors were on, Ben’s jaw dropped. 

“That’s them?” He took a step forward, hand hovering over your stomach.

“Well it's not yours, that's for sure.” You smiled at him, grabbing his hands and pushing them fully onto your stomach. “It would be a lot louder.” You assured the nurse with a laugh.

“How long have you two been together?” She asked with a smile and Ben looked at you uncomfortably, waiting for you to answer.

“Two years.” Your gaze locked on his, he smiled brightly at you, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. 

“That's sweet.” The nurse cooed, explaining next what the plan was for this birthing process. You listened closely but you knew that Ben’s attention was on you. When she told you that she would leave you two alone, you looked at Ben.

“You meant that?” He asked nervously.

“Well we were together for two years, but it's too complicated to explain it, so I just went with it.” You waved him off, ignoring when his face fell a little. “We aren't going to magically get back together, Ben. You know that. But I do want you around, you can crash in the spare room at my place if you want, so you can be close to them.” Ben didn't say anything but nodded his head. “You knew the deal Ben.” You sighed, dropping your head back on the pillow.

“I know, I know,” He sighed, but he didn't let go of your hand. “I would love to stay with you, if you're sure.” When you nodded his smile came back slightly.

-

After what felt like hours and hours of pushing, the nurse was finally bringing over your new bundles of joy. “What are their names?” Ben asked you, wiping a tear from his face as you told the nurse to give one of them to him.

“Alexis and Benjamin.” You winked at him as his smile grew wider. “I had middle names picked, but I thought maybe you’d like to help with that part?” 

“Benjamin Wade.” He nodded his head and you smiled in acceptance. “Alexis Louise.” He tested, shaking his head. “Alexis Rose.” He looked at you again and you nodded.

“I love those,” You smiled at him, then looking down at the small baby in your arms. “Hello, Benjamin Wade, I'm your mama.” You cooed at the little boy you had created, “and this is your daddy.” You held up the bundle so that Ben could see his face.

“Alexis Rose, This is your beautiful mommy, and I am going to the best dad I possibly can to you and your brother, I promise.” He leaned forward and kissed the little girl on the forehead and your heart nearly exploded with the sweetness.

You loved the sight in front of you, and your heart swelled happily seeing a father and his daughter, but nothing you could see could remove the image of Ben and Marie. We can make this work, right? You asked yourself, tearing your eyes from Ben, you looked down at the small wide eyed baby in your arms. We can make this work for them.

Ben watched you holding his son, and when he looked down at his daughter, a fresh wave of tears flowed down his face. How could I have ruined this? He shook his head lightly, hating himself for what he did. Hated the fact that you two could be enjoying this moment as a happy family, but instead he felt like he was on the outside looking in. He looked at you fully, seeing your messy hair and smiling like he was looking at the face of beauty itself, I will fix this.

“I promise to make it up to you too,” He whispered suddenly, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead as well. “I'm so sorry for everything, I truly am, and I promise to be by your side every day, for them and for you.” He sat on the edge of your bed, gripping your hand tightly in his, “I promise.”

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Something Borrowed

Part 3 of “And a Silver SIxpence in Her Shoe.”

AN: And here we are at the third part! Hope you guys like this one! It was just so lovely to write and I (surprise, surprise) teared up a little bit. I also went to a wedding last week, so that really inspired all this sappy emotional stuff! 

pls enjoy <3

-

“I’m not gonna say it again, Peter. I’m done trying to explain this to you—”

“—MJ, please, just hear me out—”

“—Absolutely not. End of discussion.”

“Last time I checked this was our wedding—”

“—And now I have to say it again—”

“—Not your wedding—”

“—We’re not doing our first dance to The Time of My Life.”

Peter’s head jerks back, face scrunching in confusion as he stares at her. “And why the hell not?”

There’s the faintest upward twitch of his lips at the exasperated groan that comes from his fiancée as she buries her head in her hands; he knows full well that he’s being a complete—to put it nicely —shithead.

And she knows it, too, as she tries her best not to bash her head against the dining room table. “Oh my God—”

“MJ, I can literally do the lift.” He pushes her buttons even more, seemingly just too damn proud of himself. “Just imagine it. I’m Johnny. You’re Baby. It would be… so dope.”

She looks up at him, blinking slowly, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Okay, okay, okay. Fine,” he chuckles, and she thinks for a moment that they can move on from this like normal adults, that he’ll finally let the joke go. That maybe, just maybe, he’ll give her a moment of peace and they can enjoy the rest of the nice dinner that Aunt May had so graciously prepared for them.

She really should have known better.

“If you think you can do it, you can be Johnny.”

Her eyes narrow.

A beat.

Another slow blink.

His mouths twists, lips pressed tightly together, eyes gleaming with mischief as he holds back the laugh threatening to burst out of him.

“Are you done?” MJ asks, tone even.

The corners of Peter’s eyes crinkle as he grins a toothy, perfectly innocent grin back at her.

“Never.”

And as annoyed as she currently is at her darling, dearest, sweet and wonderful fiancé, she can’t hold back the scoff-snort that escapes her as she shakes her head at him.

God, what a dumbass.

She loved him so much.

“You’re a patient, patient woman, MJ,” May huffs as she steps back into the dining room, having returned with three wine glasses and a bottle of pinot grigio.

Peter sits up in his chair, opening his mouth to retort before MJ cuts him off.

“I try.” She gives a half-hearted shrug, passing Peter a playful wink before handing the bottle opener to May. “It’s a good thing he’s pretty.”

May laughs hard at that particular statement.

The sudden, distant sirens can be heard from inside the apartment, the room falling silent as the sound passes by. Peter’s phone chimes, the police radio crackling through; something about another break-in, a serial art thief striking again in one of the richer neighborhoods.

Peter freezes, eyes wide in question as he glances between the two women and the window, throwing a cautious thumb over his shoulder. “I—Uh—”

“Go,” May says, excusing him with a gentle sigh.

It’s funny, because MJ can’t tell whether or not Peter’s more eager to leave because he gets to go fight crime, or because he’s been freed, been given an out, from the relentless teasing that both she and May could have put him through.

Less than a minute later, he’s back, suit on sans mask, rushing as he wraps May up in a quick hug before planting a fleeting kiss on Michelle’s lips.

And then, before any of them can wave him off, he’s leaping out the window.

Leaving them all alone to clean up dinner.

A moment passes. May shakes her head, laughing quietly as she pours them both a glass of the white wine. “He’ll owe us.”

And to that, MJ chuckles with her, tipping the glass. “He already does.”

May clinks their glasses together, lips twisting into a knowing smirk as she takes a sip.

Although the call had come out of nowhere, neither of them minded, or were really all that surprised. It was just something that happened, almost part of the daily routine. Plus, it was nice to have the quality time together. In the years that MJ’s been with Peter, May’s become not only another maternal figure in her life, but someone she could turn to. Someone she could trust. Anything Michelle needed to talk about—even, no especially when it concerned Peter—May was there.

And she would listen. Not just as Peter’s aunt, but as MJ’s friend.

There’s all these horror stories everyone tells her about the nightmare of in-laws, how hated they are, how it’s almost better to just ignore them and pretend that they don’t exist, and even in some cases, how they can straight up ruin a perfectly good marriage.

But, even though she’s not the traditional mother-in-law, May couldn’t possibly be any farther from that entirely too common misconception.

They talk for awhile, neither of them sure of how much time has passed since Peter flew out the seventh story window, about anything and everything, from the quality of the wine (it’s a little too dry, May points out, but she likes it anyway), to the way her and Peter’s landlord still hasn’t responded to her last text regarding the ever so slightly leaky sink.

And, probably what May’s most excited about, the wedding.

It’s still in the early phases at this point, the venue having only been chosen in the past week. And she had the dress (kind of; she didn’t physically have it, but she picked it out!)

But that was about it. Though, there wasn’t much going into the actual ceremony; it was going to be a small wedding, only family and very close friends being in attendance, both MJ and Peter not wanting all of the fuss and expense.

(They still have to pay off those pesky grad school loans, and they weren’t even done yet.)

The reception, however, was going to be bigger.

Something Peter was more than a little excited about.

“You know, Ben and I had a home wedding.” May swirls the wine in her glass, a fond smile pulling at her lips.

Humming, Michelle grins faintly. “Really?”

May nods. “In my grandmother’s house. Ben and I—we wanted something more intimate, and cheap,” she laughs quietly. “And grandma Eddie… she had this big, fancy living room. But it wasn’t too gaudy or anything like that. Oh—and the fireplace was this gorgeous, mahogany—I think? I wasn’t sure then either.” She laughs again, her eyes sparkling with joy at the memories. “It was just so beautiful…”

“It sounds beautiful,” Michelle readily agrees.

Somehow, the excitement in May’s eyes grows. They light up even more. “Oh, I have to show you now. Hold on!”

It doesn’t take long; she rushes out of the room, returning with a simple, yet pretty photo album, her smile having never left.

The album is still in near perfect condition, pristine, not a trace of dust or a photo out of place.

Something tugs at Michelle’s heart as she opens to the first page. The first picture shows the bride and groom in a close embrace, a beaming smile on May’s face as she stares up at Ben, wearing the same expression, the love and warmth between them almost glowing.

Ben looks so handsome, May looking beautiful as ever.

MJ immediately smiles, seeing the elegant white gown, the off-the shoulder lace and the delicate fall of the satin fabric. “Wow. Your dress…”

“Pretty right?” May grins. “Not bad for the nineties, huh?”

The page turns, again and again, showing another series of photos, all of them showing Ben and May deliriously happy and in love; pictures of friends and family, of Peter’s parents, Richard and Mary, a close up shot of the rings on Ben’s and May’s hands. There’s a few candid shots where they aren’t smiling, but still holding each other in tender embraces.

And MJ can’t help but notice the way May’s voice tightens as they look at all the photos, all of the memories; the way she clears her throat, the way she blinks back the prickling feeling behind her eyes.

There’s pictures of the first dance, and the second; one showing May laughing against her husband’s shoulder, a smug grin that Michelle’s definitely seen somewhere before on his face.

“We were dancing to My Girl ,” May explains, huffing out a laugh as she tries to subtly wipe at her eyes. “And he’d always look right at me when he sang, ‘when it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.’ Always so proud of himself for that, too.” She chuckles, shaking her head fondly. “He did it every time.”

MJ lets out a quiet, all-too-knowing laugh.

The corners of May’s lips twitch again, her chin quivering slightly as she looks down at the photos.

Though, she quickly collects herself, her body relaxing as she lets out a deep, shaky sigh. “So how’s the dress coming?” She asks, shifting the attention to Michelle, her eyes still glistening as she puts on a watery, yet still genuine smile.

MJ shrugs, lips quirking into a faint, brief half-smile. “It’s good, I think. My first fitting is in… a week and a half I think? On the third.”

“Are you excited?” May asks, her eyes twinkling, the same look in her eyes the day she, MJ’s mom, and Betty watched her literally say yes to the dress.

Michelle gives a small, yet enthusiastic nod, though she still tries to play it down. “Yeah,” she responds. It had been a tiring day, trying on gown after gown; she hadn’t even really known where to start. Any dresses she wore were usually hand-me-downs, and they weren’t anything she’d ever put much thought into.

How many she actually tried on, she wasn’t sure, but it was probably in the hundreds.

(Maybe she’s being a bit dramatic, but still. It was a lot.)

Her mom had cried when they found the one . May and Betty, too.

And there was the possibility that MJ also got the tiniest bit emotional seeing herself in the mirror.

An actual bride.

Adding the veil only doubled the feelings though, at least in the three women with her. MJ honestly wasn’t feeling any of the ones the consultant gave her to try on. Sure, it made her look more bridal, more like she was at the wedding right then and there.

But, again, none of them really… added anything for her.

MJ gives a half-shrug. “Still not sure what I’m gonna do about that veil though. I didn’t really like any in the store, I dunno.” She pauses, thinking for a moment. “I figured I could use the one my mom wore, but she and my dad had a small wedding, like really small—they pretty much eloped—so she didn’t have one…”

Suddenly, May gets an idea, her face lighting up. “Borrow mine!” She suggests as if it had been obvious the entire time.

“Huh?”

“You can use mine! It’s so pretty and it would go so well with that dress—Oh let me go get it!”

May doesn’t even wait for her to respond before rushing to her bedroom, once again.

She brings a pretty, pristine box out. “Here she is.”

It’s a beautiful veil, very classic. The fabric isn’t itchy like some, it’s soft and sheer, and it almost floats as May lifts it from the box.

And it also looks very expensive.

MJ’s not sure what to say, too overcome with some unnamed emotion weighing on her chest when May hands her the veil. It’s impossibly beautiful, Michelle thinks as she gingerly touches the sheer fabric.

It’s absolutely perfect.

“May, I don’t know—”

“—You still need that something borrowed right?” May asks, smiling warmly as she sits back down in front of her.

It’s suddenly very hard to speak. Michelle clears her throat, nodding, letting out an amused huff. “I do still need that.”

“Well, there you go.”

May was more than willing to loan it. She and Ben, in their too short of time together, had had such a wonderful, happy marriage, both of them so ridiculously in love with each other. It had been some of the best years of her life, being with Ben. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t miss him, where she didn’t love him, where she didn’t look back on those blissful days together, a day where she didn’t smile remembering something funny he’d said, or how he’d told her he loved her.

And now, all she wanted nothing more than to share a part of that happiness with Peter and MJ.

MJ looks down briefly at the veil in her hands before looking back up, unable to stop herself from smiling. “Thanks.”

May pulls her into a warm, motherly hug. “Anytime, sweetie.”

After helping May with the rest of the dishes, and after a few more teary hugs, Michelle goes home, the cozy, happy feeling never having left as she reads in bed, the new box sitting quietly on top of the dresser in the corner of the room.

Peter stumbles in through the bedroom window nearly two hours later, around twelve-thirty in the morning, lazily crawling out of his suit as she falls next to her on the mattress, face down into one of the pillows.

“Hey, Tiger,” she smirks, running a loving hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He mumbles an exhausted greeting, voice muffled by the pillow.  

“Rough night?”

He pushes up slightly to look up at her. “A long night.” He sighs, finally turning over onto his back. “Sorry I left.”

“S’okay.” MJ’s hand still continues to card through his dark, slightly sweaty curls. “May and I had a good talk while you were gone.”

“Uh oh,” Peter laughs. “What’d you guys talk about?”

“How I should just get out now while I can.” She doesn’t miss a beat, her expression and tone in her true, Michelle Jones deadpan.

His body shakes with another laugh. “That’s fair.”

Looking down at him, the way he’s smiling up at her, his expression so full of love and teasing warmth… it all reminds her of May and Ben, and just how incandescently happy they’d both looked as they danced, laughed, and joked together on their wedding day.

She puts her book down, sinking into the mattress next to her sleepy fiancé. The surprised smile on his face is almost audible as she pulls herself to him, nestling as close as she humanly can.

He chuckles, capturing her lips into a tender kiss. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

And she grins, snuggling closer, a contented sigh leaving her body as she shuts her eyes.

It had been so easy to see how in love with each other Ben and May were, so easy to see how they cared for each other, all from just a few photos.

How they were both so ready to spend the rest of their lives together; two best friends, utterly devoted.

And it had been easy because it’s a feeling—that same feeling—that Michelle knows too well when she looks at Peter.

“Me neither.”

[beca-mitchell]

okay after that beautiful yet completely heartbreaking one shot I need the fluffiest one with prompt 69 pls

The prompt was: “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.”

Hopefully this was fluffy enough!! Sorry for breaking your heart. 💕

fools rushing in

Summary: Beca and Chloe love and support their five-year-old son through everything he does. Almost everything.

Word count: 1966

Beca likes to think she has grown more perceptive over time. A product of dating Chloe, proposing to Chloe, marrying Chloe, and then finally having a child with the love of her life. All of that has definitely amounted to an increased sense of awareness as to when the people she loves are distressed or in pain.

Chloe tells her that maybe it’s because she’s a genuinely kind human being and that she’s grown up a lot over the years.

They’ve both adapted to parenthood well despite Beca’s original hesitations about having children. She can’t imagine being anywhere else in her life right now, content with how everything’s turned out.

Chloe remembers the entire pregnancy with vivid clarity. Beca had been there night and day, attentive to Chloe’s every desire, even obscure grocery store requests in the middle of the night. She hazily recalls waking up almost every morning to Beca singing quietly to their little bump, often forgetting about the own pains in her back, content to watch her wife sing to their baby happily.

It had been a stark change from only a year and a half prior, where Beca had been somewhat adamant about not wanting children for at least a few years. Chloe’s not quite sure where it all clicks for Beca, though she knows they both regret the harsh arguments and fights between them over the topic.

Still, it feels like a fading dream, now that they happily have a son between them.

Theodore Beale-Mitchell is born on a Thursday night in March, weighing in at a healthy 3.9 kilograms, bright blue eyes, and the tiniest tuft of brown hair on top of his head. Beca literally cries when she has to separate from him and Chloe for just a few moments while the nurses quietly check in to clean up and make sure everything’s okay.

She’s back in Chloe’s hospital room only minutes later, hovering with uncertainty while Chloe adjusts their newborn in her arms.

It’s then and there that both Beca and Chloe vow to never let anything bad happen to their baby boy.

When they upgrade to a nicer home in a nice suburb north of Los Angeles, it comes with the added perks of better school options for Theodore. The school is snugly in between their home and Chloe’s neighbourhood veterinary clinic, so they adapt to their little community and surroundings fairly quickly.

Beca thinks that even though Teddy doesn’t necessarily have her biological traits, he picked up on a little of her prickly stoicness. She tells Chloe it’s just how people like them look out for themselves - with caution and hesitance. Chloe understands perfectly, despite having a completely opposite outlook on life. She adores how Beca bonds with their son, however. She has a million photos of similarly-shaded heads bent over a laptop, or the two of them sharing a pair of headphones, or her favourite - one of them donning similar leather jackets. Teddy’s adorable little brown leather jacket is one that Beca brings home - a gift from a client.

The thing about both Beca and Chloe is that they don’t manage conflict well. It’s not necessarily something that they have a lot of experience with, both of them hating the feelings that well up inside them whenever they fight - especially with each other.

They raise Teddy to be a kind, loving little boy. He is always respectful and careful with his words. He is generous and giving, but also wary of being taken advantage of. He loves animals, something that Beca once believed couldn’t have been genetic, but she truly believes it might be. She watches on in amusement whenever Chloe carefully shows him around the clinic on Saturday mornings. He stares at a fluffy white german shepherd, making grabby hands in its direction until Beca carts him back into the waiting area.

He’s the best of what both Chloe and Beca have to offer him.

It comes as a surprise to them, therefore, when he comes home in tears in his eyes and a scrape on his hand.

Beca is furious.

Chloe is heartbroken.

“Oh baby,” Chloe murmurs, bending down to inspect his hand. “Who did this?”

His eyes widen. “I - I did,” he whispers. “I fell.”

Chloe doesn’t believe him for a second, but Beca beats her to the punch. “Did somebody…make you fall, buddy?” she asks, bending down next to them. She brushes his hair from his forehead. “Has this happened before?”

He looks like he’s about to lie to their faces, but Chloe raises an eyebrow, causing his confidence to waver. “Yes…it’s these boys at school,” he admits quietly.

Chloe is well aware of what boys at ages five and six were like, having grown up closely with her cousins in Portland. They were menaces. They had been fairly tolerable until they turned their teasing and bullying towards her when she transferred into their elementary school after her parents moved. Worst years of her life.

“How long has this been going on?” Chloe asks, ensuring her voice doesn’t waver. She can feel Beca’s comforting presence beside her as well as the gentle hand that rubs at her back.

“I don’t know,” he admits, shuffling his feet. He wiggles closer to them, throwing his arms around Chloe’s neck. “A while.” He reaches out for Beca’s hand. “They…said stuff about you.”

Beca feels her heart jump into her throat. “What…stuff?”

“Like how your music really sucks.”

Chloe bites back a chuckle and twists to lock eyes with Beca. She can see relief and amusement in Beca’s eyes.

“That’s rude,” Chloe states, standing up. She groans as his weight causes her knees to wobble a little. “Mommy’s music only sucks a little bit.”

Teddy swats at her back lightly, giggling. He tucks his head against Chloe’s shoulder, turning his face so he can grin at Beca. “I like mommy’s music.”

Chloe continues chatting with him as she carries him into the kitchen. “Want to know a secret? I love mommy’s music.”

“That’s not a secret, mama!” Teddy’s voice carries from the kitchen. Beca shakes her head.

The topic of his school bullies doesn’t come up again until a few weeks later.

“Why don’t we have a dog?” Theodore asks moodily, sliding his waffles around on his plate.

“That’s a great question,” Chloe pipes up, putting her thermos down on the counter. “Why don’t we have a dog?”

Beca groans. She had forgotten that there are two children living in her house.

“Everybody has a dog. Or a cat.”

“Yes, why don’t we have a cat?” Chloe mutters, tapping her chin.

“Chlo,” Beca calls, warning in her voice.

“Yes, dear,” she gets in return.

“Bobby says that only losers don’t have pets.”

“Bobby’s wrong,” Beca says steadily. She wonders if she’s actually going to have to go in to talk to this kid’s parents. Or Teddy’s teacher. She finishes off the last of her coffee. “I didn’t have pets growing up and now look at me.”

Chloe snickers. Beca pretends not to hear.

“I had three dogs when I was a kid,” Chloe whispers to Teddy while she’s helping him put on his shoes.

Beca definitely pretends not to hear that. They definitely can’t afford to have a hyper animal in their house - at least, not for the time being.

Teddy’s mood steadily improves as the rest of the school year continues. Beca and Chloe watch his behaviour and they are pleased to notice that he is slowly reverting back to his cheerful self. Beca knows that Chloe had taken it upon herself to go into the school to have a chat with their son’s teacher, citing that Beca didn’t need additional stress on top of work and other things.

It’s a sunny Tuesday morning in April, just a month and a half after Beca and Chloe found that first scrape on Teddy’s hand.

He sits and the kitchen table and pouts before throwing his bag to the side.

“Hey!” Chloe exclaims, kneeling next to him when she hears the clatter of his plastic pencil case. She pulls him closer to her, making sure to maintain eye contact. “What’s wrong?” she asks quietly. “Do you not want to go to school?”

Beca puts her mug in the sink turning to face them. “What’s wrong?” she repeats, moving to pull up a chair so she can sit by them.

“I have show and tell coming up,” Teddy mumbles.

“You love show and tell!” Beca points out, smiling encouragingly.

“I’m going to fail!” he shouts.

Chloe raises an eyebrow at his raised tone. “What are you talking about? You can’t fail show and tell.” She turns to Beca. “Can you?”

Beca shrugs.

“Everybody has been bringing in their pets for show and tell,” he informs them. “Last week, Mary brought in her hamster. The week before, Nicky brought in his cat.”

“That seems irresponsible,” Beca mutters. Chloe nods in agreement.

“I just want ‘em to like me,” Teddy says softly.

Beca thinks her heart shatters right then and there. Her instincts kick in. She can practically feel Chloe’s temper rising. ��Hey,” she says softly, reaching out to hold his tiny hand. It still baffles her that this is a human being that Chloe created - a human being that turns to them for love and support. “Hey,” she repeats to get his attention. “We love you so much, okay? You need to know that. There is nothing wrong with you.”

Chloe is quiet for a moment. “I thought you said they stopped,” she murmurs.

“I…I didn’t want to upset you.” His face scrunches up in concentration. “It’s not bad.”

They stay silent for a minute, allowing the quiet family moment to pass over them.

“When are you presenting?” Beca asks, breaking the silence.

“Friday.”

“Well, your mama and I are going to help you, isn’t that right, Chlo?”

“Yeah, we’re going to make it amazing,” Chloe says with determination. “It’ll be so amazing that your friends literally won’t know what to do with themselves.”

“Yeah?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yeah!” Beca exclaims, trying to exude enthusiasm as best as she can.

“Yeah!” he repeats, raising his arms excitedly.

Chloe grins, tapping her fingers on his knees excitedly. “I have so many ideas, little man. Don’t you worry. God, I think I’m more excited about this right now,” she says to Beca.

Beca rolls her eyes good-naturedly. She loves Chloe Beale, certified forever-child.

“And you know what? We’re going to figure something out, even if it means drastic measures.”

“What’s dras…drastic?” Teddy asks, tilting his head.

“It means she’s being dramatic,” Beca chimes in helpfully.

“I wanna be dramatic!” Teddy shouts.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Chloe repeats, tapping her chin. “Even if it means…stealing our neighbour’s dog!”

“Yeah!” Teddy shouts, gleeful excitement in his eyes. “Dog!”

Beca gawks at them, regardless of how much she loves Chloe and Teddy with all her heart, she’s not going to be party to a crime. “We are not going to steal our neighbour’s dog, Chloe,” she hisses.

Chloe waves her off nonchalantly, focusing on zipping up Teddy’s hoodie. “Sure, Beca.”

“What? Chloe?”

It concerns Beca that Chloe immediately jumped to theft to help their son.

She pulls out her phone, making a note to look up Humane Society locations as soon as possible.

Later that night, Beca sits up straight in bed, a gasp leaving her lips.

Chloe immediately sits up as well, flicking on her bedside lamp. “What is it? Are you okay?” She moves her hand to Beca’s stomach. “Is it the baby?”

“No - no,” Beca mutters distractedly. “I just…was that all an elaborate ploy to get a dog?”

Chloe’s laughter follows her as she sinks back into a restless sleep.

fic tag

[pedroscurls]

Title: I Trust You

@harleysandbats requested: Hey, I'm so shy about doing this off anon but I have a request. :D Could you write a Negan story where the reader is new to the Sanctuary after being rescued by Simon and a few other Saviors from a dangerous group. She is shy and quiet around everyone at first except Negan, & they quickly develop a close relationship where he looks out for her. When he asks her to be a wife, she tells him that she is scared bc she's never had sex. Fluffy smut pls, & could you use my name? It's Mary. :3 Thanks!!

Character(s): Negan and Mary (original female character) Summary: Negan asks Mary an important question that will change her entire life. Word Count: 5,836 Warning: Fluff, smut!!! Author’s Note: This idea is great, so thank you @harleysandbats for requesting it! I had such a fun time writing it and I love the idea that the OFC is only comfortable around Negan, which is great and completely different! I hope you enjoy this! ;-) I also hope this makes you feel better, dude!!! Fingers crossed that things start looking up for you!

Forever Taglist: @disfigured-it-out || @chunex || @jasoncrouse || @oceanicseries || @dixonsbait || @negan--is--god || @see-you-then-winchester || @sable-the-trans-ham || @k4veggies || @labyrinthofheartagrams || @purplemuse89 || @ladyynegan || @scentofpineandhazelnutlattes || @may85 || @a-girl-interupted || @spn-cw123 || @multireality || @ashzombie13 || @constellationsolo || @isayweallgetdrunk || @fyeahashley88 || @sweetsweetpeach || @heartfulloffandoms || @myheart4ever47 || @asshatry || @laymetorest77 || @jenniegs || @hawtdiggitynegan || @magikat409

(GIF Source: @justnegan)

“I told you not to move, sweet cheeks. You make me do this all the damn time. I hate hurting that beautiful face,” he growled, a closed fist connecting with her jaw. Mary didn’t know how much more she could take. When she joined the Claimers, she was relieved to be surrounded by men who could protect her, but after the first night, she knew it was a mistake to have approached them.

“Please, Joe…”

“All that begging is just simply going to make it even more pleasurable for me, baby. Just let me get it in just once,” he laughed.

She had been with this group for a couple of months and every day was a nightmare. It had gotten worse to the point that not even the walking corpses scared her anymore.

Mary felt dirty, used, worthless, lonely… It was worse being with this group than being alone.

As she struggled against Joe’s large body, blood dripping from her cut lip, she decided to shut her eyes and stop fighting. It wasn’t worth her energy; he was always going to win.

Suddenly, she heard gunshots and immediately flinched at the repeated sounds. When she opened her eyes, she noticed a nearly balding man with a ridiculous pornstache pull Joe off her body.

Mary glanced at Joe, watching as his eyes flashed with fear. The other men held him down, preventing him from running away from his inevitable fate. However, when the pornstache man kneeled to be at eye level with her, she immediately flinched.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to be afraid anymore…” he whispered quietly.

“Just kill me… I don’t want to live anymore.”

Simon frowned, motioning for Dwight and the rest of the Saviors to tie Joe up and bring him back to the Sanctuary. He knew Negan would love to inflict pain on a man like this.

“You’re safe…” Simon reassured.

Mary just shook her head. Though, she heard a man’s voice from the walkie-talkie, biting her lower lip.

“What the fuck is taking so long, Simon?”

“Excuse me,” the man said.

Huh. So his name is Simon.

“We’ve got a bit of a problem, boss. Came across a small group and well, there’s a man here who forced himself on a young woman. She’s not talking any sense nor is she willing to come back with us.”

The man on the walkie-talkie replied, anger clear in his tone. “Where the fuck are you? Oh, and please tell me that fucker is still alive. I’m on my way.”

Simon told Negan his whereabouts. He turned back to Mary and extended a hand, “You should come back with us. We’ve got a nice place setup, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” she whimpered, looking down at his hand before shaking her head.

“Okay, okay… May I get your name? I’m Simon.”

“M – Mary…”

Simon smiled softly, “That’s a beautiful name. How about we go to the truck? We’ve got a few snacks that we brought for this supply run and I’ll be more than willing to share.”

“What do you want from me?” Mary abruptly asked.

“Mary, not all of us are like that sorry piece of shit. I’m sorry for what happened to you…”

“That’s what they all say at first,” she whimpered, tears clouding her eyes at the memory of the past few months she spent with the Claimers.

Suddenly, she looked up at the sound of a truck approaching. At first, she noticed his boots followed by long legs to the leather jacket and red scarf and finally resting on the barbed-wire baseball bat that was perched on his shoulder.

He looked angry, but when his eyes settled on Mary, it immediately softened. “Simon, put that fucker on his knees. Aim a gun at the back of his head just in case he tries anything.”

Simon nodded, looking at Mary with sincere eyes before standing and following his boss’s order.

Negan walked over to Mary, retrieving a small handkerchief from his pocket. Hesitantly, he looked into her eyes and gently dabbed at the blood on her lip. She flinched, but soon relaxed.

“I’m Negan… Who are you, doll?”

“Mary…”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary. You want to tell me what happened?”

She shook her head, glancing at Joe who sent a threatening glare in her direction. Immediately, she stood up and ran to the man who haunted her nightmares. Mary instantly used as much force as she could muster to deliver a sharp kick across his face, hearing a loud crunch afterwards.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” she yelled, tears flowing down freely. “You think you can claim me?! You think you own me?!”

Simon looked over at Negan, wondering if they should step in, but Negan simply shook his head. He was allowing her to release the pent-up frustration and months of abuse.

“Mary, I’m sorry… Please, tell these men that I’m sorry,” Joe pleaded.

Mary’s eyes darkened and she stared down at him with empty eyes as she repeated his same words. “All that begging is just simply going to make it even more pleasurable for me, baby.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed and anger began to fill his blue eyes. “Bitch!”

Negan finally stepped in, raising the baseball bat to hover in front of Joe’s face. It was then that the other man ceased his insults, staring up at Negan. “I think you owe this woman an apology.”

“S – Sorry…” Joe muttered.

“Doll?” Negan asked, looking over at her.

Mary looked at the large machete lying on the ground next to Joe. She instantly grabbed it and stared into the man’s eyes, immediately bringing the weapon to penetrate his neck. All life began to drain from his eyes and Mary felt free for once.

“Apology not accepted.”

Negan grinned, chuckling loudly. “Well, fuck! That was amazing to watch!”

Mary looked over at Negan, dropping the large machete and instantly, treaded back to her things. Negan followed her, gently taking her wrist and turning her around.

“Mary, come back with us… We can keep you safe.”

She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but for some reason, Negan made her feel safer than she had ever been since the apocalypse started. “Okay… Yes…”

He grinned, flashing her his dimples. “Great. Let me take you to my humble abode.”

Mary was sitting outside, reminiscing about the first time she met Negan and Simon. She never realized how both men changed her life for the better. Simon had saved her from Joe, but it was Negan who ultimately kept her safe.

Since the moment she met him, there was a sudden attraction she felt towards him. It wasn’t only in the sense of physical attraction, but she also felt immediately safe around him.

“Hey, you.” Negan’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked over at him to see him move to sit next to her.

“Hi,” she replied.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to come out here and think.”

“About what?” he asked.

“Everything really.”

“That’s a bit fucking vague,” he laughed.

Mary noticed how he seemed to display a much more normalized version of himself around her. She was aware of his five wives, but even with them, Negan never acted the way he did with her. She had to wonder if the feeling was mutual, though, she knew it was ridiculous to think Negan felt for her the same way she felt for him. He was much older than she was and he had five women that were much more beautiful.

Plus, he wouldn’t want to be with a woman who never had sex anyway.

“Well, I was just thinking about the first time we met…”

“Thinking about me? Aw, that’s fucking sweet, Mary,” he teased.

Mary blushed, gently hitting his arm. He returned the gesture by holding her close to his side. She was used to this; they were always questionably touchy with one another. Though, she didn’t mind. It made her feel safe whenever she was in Negan’s presence, so it was even better when he touched her as innocently as this.

“I just – I don’t know why I was much more comfortable around you. Simon met me first, saved me actually, but I was still afraid of him at that moment. Then, you showed up and it was weird…”

“Weird? I think you just fucking realized how hot I was,” he winked.

“Negan…” Mary giggled, feeling his hand settle on her opposite hip.

“On a serious note, I don’t know either. I talked to Simon that night when we set you up with a room and all that shit. He and I were wondering the same thing too. You hiding something from your past that may give us an answer?”

“No… I mean, I don’t think so. I’ve never had a serious relationship with any man. I wasn’t really close with my family and I didn’t have any siblings,” Mary shrugged.

“You’ve never had a serious relationship?” Negan asked.

“Of all the things I just said, that is the one that stuck with you?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all. You’re hot as shit, so it’s a bit hard to believe, Mary.”

Mary immediately blushed. She would never get used to his unexpected compliments. “No guy my age wanted someone as shy, quiet, and inexperienced as I am.”

“Inexperienced?” Negan arched a brow.

“Oh, forget it. I better get back to work.” Mary replied, realizing that she let one of her deepest secret out in the open. She rarely hid anything from Negan, but being a virgin was one of them.

“Right… Listen, stop by room tonight. I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you.”

“A talk? We just had a talk.”

“Okay, smartass. Just come by my room.” Negan smiled.

Mary nodded, kissing his cheek and standing. “All right. I’ll see you later.” Kissing his cheek or even displaying any sort of affection was something they were both used to. Their friendship developed after they met and Negan knew he had a soft spot for her. None of his wives compared to the woman that he wanted to be with.

Later that night, Mary was eating dinner at the cafeteria when Simon sat across from her. She smiled in his direction, looking at him with an arched brow. Usually, he was much more eager to talk, but right now, he was just staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. How are you?”

“Simon… Spit it out.”

“Damn it. How can you always read me so well?” he asked.

“Because I’ve been around you enough to know you. Now, what’s going on?”

Simon smiled, “Going to see Negan tonight?”

Mary blushed. Simon was aware of how you felt about Negan. It had been revealed to him after a couple of drinks, but he had said he already was aware of the attraction she felt for Negan. It was obvious and many believed that she and Negan were already a couple.

Oh, how she wished that was true.

“I am, why?”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

Simon arched a brow, displaying a serious of expressions on his face that merely made Mary giggle. “What? I’ve been told I have an expressive face.”

“Right…”

“Anyway, are you going to tell him how you feel?”

Mary stiffened, immediately shaking her head. “No! I can’t…”

“And why not?”

“He’s got five wives, Simon.”

“What’s your point, Mary?”

“There’s no way he’s going to want me when he’s got five of the most beautiful women in the world.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “Most beautiful women in the world? You’re joking right?”

“They are! They wear the pretty dresses and heels. Their hair is always perfectly styled, so is their make-up…” she mumbled, insecurity shown clearly throughout her features.

“They’re beautiful because of all of those things. You, Mary, are beautiful without it, and I’m pretty damn sure you’d look smokin’ with it,” Simon complimented.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“No, honestly. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re just as beautiful as his wives. Negan would be lucky to have you,” he advised.

Mary sighed, nodding. She watched him get up from the table and place his empty tray of food on the counter for the kitchen crew to clean. Mary stood as well. She was going to see Negan tonight and while she wasn’t expecting to admit her feelings for him, she was now questioning if she should.

Mary quickly went to her room. She changed out of her usual t-shirt and jeans and into a dark red dress that she found at the commissary. It was a thinly strapped, sleeveless dress with a deep v-cut and a slit at the side of it to reveal her toned leg.

Mary made her decision. She was going to tell Negan how she felt and show him a side that he had never seen before. She ran her fingers through her hair, allowing it to remain in loose waves. After applying a light amount of make-up and a darkened nude lipstick, Mary slipped into her black heels and made her way to Negan’s bedroom.

Every step she took echoed throughout the empty hallway. She could hear her heart beating out of her chest in anticipation. She never thought she would ever know what it was like to be in love with a man, but Negan changed that. Mary had fallen for him through the development of their friendship.

At his door, Mary quietly knocked. She heard some movement from behind the door before it swung open to reveal Negan in a plain white t-shirt sans the leather jacket and baseball bat. The holster around his hip for his machete had been removed, so he was clad in his usual dark grey pants and boots.

Negan’s eyes widened at the sight of her. They have had nights like this where they would spend with one another, but Mary never decided to dress up in an outfit like this one.

“M – Mary?”

“Are you going to let me in or are you going to just stand there with your mouth open?” she teased.

Negan cleared his throat, opening the door even wider for her to step into his room. Once she was inside, he shut the door and locked it behind him. He turned around and let his eyes rake over every inch of her body. He was surprised to see her physique that had always been hidden beneath her usual t-shirt and jeans.

God, she was even more beautiful dolled up.

“Mary… Why are you dressed like that?” he asked, interrupting the uncomfortable silence that hung in the air.

“Do you not like it?” she frowned, looking down at herself.

Negan noticed her expression, immediately shaking his head. He walked towards her and looked down, his eyes drifting to her cleavage before he cleared his throat. Negan was never a man who was left speechless, but right now, he had no words.

“No, no. I fucking love it. You look amazing…”

Mary slowly smiled, a red blush appearing on her cheeks. “Really?”

“Yes, Mary. You’re fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you, Negan…” Mary replied. It was now or never. She needed to tell him before she decided to back out. “I have something to tell you…”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Mary couldn’t believe that his eyes were trailing her figure. She felt confident to have him staring at her.

“I, uh…”

Negan arched a brow. “What is it, doll?”

“What is it that we have? You and I, I mean… I know we’re friends, but…”

“Mary, what are you fucking getting at?”

“I guess I’ll just say it. I love you, Negan.”

His demeanor changed immediately. Though, she was expecting him to tell her to get out, yell, anything that resembled anger or annoyance, but Mary was surprised to see the softening of his eyes but the underlying fear behind them.

“Mary…”

“I know you don’t feel the same way. I mean, you have five wives who are fucking gorgeous, but I just needed to tell you.”

“None of my fucking wives compare to you and your beauty, Mary,” he stated immediately.

“You don’t have to pity me, Negan. Simon convinced me to tell you and –”

“Hold on a fucking minute. Simon knew how you felt about me?”

“I kind of let it slip after we had a few drinks…”

“You had a few drinks with Simon? Why?”

Mary sighed. Negan always seemed to miss the point of the conversation. “Negan, that’s beside the point… I just had to tell you before I let it slip. I feel much better now that it’s off my chest.”

Negan took a step forward. His hand cupped her cheek gently and she immediately leaned against his touch. “I haven’t been in love since, you know… But the moment I saw you, fuck, I knew there was something different about you.”

Mary bit her lower lip. She had known about his previous life before all of this. He was a teacher and ping-pong coach who was happily married to a woman named Lucille. However, towards the end of their marriage, she had gotten sick and he began to mask his pain by cheating on her. It was sad, but Negan never felt like Mary judged him. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who didn’t have an opinion about everything he did.

Mary always supported him, even if it wasn’t right. Mary had always been the one he went to whenever he couldn’t sleep at night. Mary always reassured his actions were to ensure the safety of this community, even when many people disagreed with him.

Mary was similar to Lucille. She understood that Negan was an eccentric person, but had always accepted him.

“I can’t say that I love you… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fucking love someone again, but you’ve come close to it. Maybe one day, I’ll be ready to admit that the feeling is mutual, but for now, I’ll say that I don’t even want to think about what life would be like without you, Mary.” Negan admitted.

Mary looked into his eyes. That was close enough to him admitting his love for her. She didn’t expect him to say the exact words anyway, but the fact that he trusted her enough to admit something closely similar satisfied her.

“I want you to become a wife,” he finally added.

“A w – wife?”

“My only wife…” Negan said.

“But what about the others? I know how important they are to your reputation, Negan…”

“I don’t fucking care anymore. You’re just as badass. No one will think to fucking mess with you.”

Suddenly, Mary bit her lower lip. While she admitted her love for him, she didn’t yet tell him that she was a virgin. She was afraid to. She was afraid of how he would react.

“I – I can’t…” Mary replied.

“Can’t? After what we both just fucking admitted, you’re going to say no?”

“Negan, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…”

“You just what?”

“You wouldn’t want me,” Mary shrugged.

“And what makes you think that?”

Mary sighed. She looked down at the floor. There was no way out of this. She had to tell him. “You just won’t.”

“Fucking humor me, Mary.”

“I’m a virgin,” she whispered very quietly.

Negan was stunned. Not only was this woman similar to Lucille, but the fact that she hadn’t been with any other man made it that much more special. He was going to be her first and her last.

“What?” Negan asked, causing Mary to look up at him.

“I’ve never had sex before… I never let Joe or the Claimers touch me. They just –”

Negan shook his head, running his thumb across her lower lip lightly. “We’re not going to talk about them, okay? Right now, it’s just you and me. You don’t need to explain why you saved yourself, Mary.”

She sighed, “I better get going.”

“Virgin or not, I still fucking want you as my wife.”

Mary widened her eyes. “But I’m not experienced…”

“So? Who the fuck cares? You have no idea how hard it’s making me to know that you’re a virgin, Mary. You saved yourself, and you saved yourself for me. Do you have any idea how special that makes me feel?”

“I’m the real life Virgin Mary,” she mumbled.

Negan chuckled, “Not for fucking long, you aren’t.”

“What?”

“If you’ll allow me, I’d like to start our honeymoon tonight.”

“I didn’t say yes,” she teased.

Negan smirked, “Oh, don’t play with me, doll.”

Mary smiled, carefully wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’d love to be your wife, Negan.”

In response, his hands roughly grasped her hips, bringing her flush against his body. Lowering his head, Negan slowly pressed his lips against hers. Mary finally succumbed to him. She was actually kissing him. After months of imagining what it would be like, she was finally doing it.

A hand rested on his chest as the other moved to tangle in his dark locks. Mary followed the movement of his lips, parting her own when she felt his tongue snake out to flick against her. She whimpered, feeling his large hands descend to her backside. Negan gripped it tightly, causing her to gasp against his lips. He took this opportunity to slide his tongue into her opened mouth, growling against her.

With their bodies pressed against one another, Mary felt his hardening bulge resting against her abdomen. She blushed at the thought of what would happen tonight. She was more than ready to give herself all to Negan.

Negan pulled away from the kiss to move his lips along her jawline. She shut her eyes, both hands curling in his dark brown hair as his stubble grazed her many hotspots. Negan placed open mouthed, light kisses along her skin, reveling in her soft, smooth skin underneath his lips.

Suddenly, he pulled away and removed his white t-shirt, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. He kicked off his boots and sat at the edge of his bed, staring at Mary with lustful eyes. He raised a finger in the air and twirled it slowly, motioning for Mary to spin around for him.

“Give me a twirl, baby. Let me see how good you look in that damn dress,” Negan demanded.

Mary blushed, slowly turning around to give Negan a perfect 360 view of her outfit. His eyes ran over her toned legs, to the slit at her upper thigh, to the deep v-cut that showcased her chest, and finally to the innocent look on her face.

“Come here, Mary,” he said, motioning her forward. Mary followed immediately, standing between his legs. His hands ran up her legs and underneath her dress, grinning when he didn’t feel any panties. “My, oh fucking my, doll… Were you expecting to lose your virginity tonight?”

Her cheeks reddened even further. She looked into his eyes and slowly parted her legs for him. Mary could feel herself become wet as his fingers inched closer and closer to her throbbing heat.

“Maybe…”

Negan grinned, “I have a good damn feeling you’re going to end up becoming a minx. Oddly enough, I am more than fucking okay with it.”

Mary bit her lower lip, gasping when she felt his fingertips graze her unclothed sex. She moved to rest both hands on his shoulders, staring down at him as he slowly circled her clit with his finger.

“Negan…” she moaned, squeezing his shoulders tightly.

“As much as I love this dress on you, it needs to fucking come off.” Negan pulled away from her, standing up and towering over her as usual. His hands grasped the zipper at the back of her dress and slowly lowered it, loosening the fabric around her body.

Slowly, Mary’s hands held the dress to her body before stepping away from Negan. Removing her hands from herself, the red dress pooled around her ankles and she was left standing in nothing but her black heels.

Negan grunted at the sight of her, his long arms scooping her up against him. He slowly lied her on her back on his large mattress, his fingertips grazing down her chest as it brushed against one of her nipples and down her abdomen to her soaking heat. He was standing above her, exuding all confidence and power.

“God damn, Mary…”

Mary parted her legs slowly, allowing Negan to get a better look at her throbbing sex. He immediately kneeled in front of her, pulling her hips to the edge of the bed and closer to his mouth. She felt his breath radiating against her heat, anticipating this unfamiliar pleasure.

Mary immediately let out a quiet moan once she felt his beard scratching lightly against her inner thighs. Her initial reaction was to close her legs, which Negan immediately shook his head and held them apart.

“Stay open like that for me, baby…” Negan smiled, turning his head to place light kisses onto her inner thighs, descending his way closer to your heat teasingly. “Keep ‘em open for me while I eat this sweet pussy.”

Mary blushed, her hands immediately stroking his hair. She should have been used to his dirty talk, but for some reason, it made her even more turned on.

She gasped once she felt his tongue run along the length of her soaking heat. She widened her eyes, propping herself up onto her elbows as she tried to move away. Negan grinned, wrapping his arms around her upper thighs, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her closer to his face.

“Stop squirming… It’ll feel good, Mary. Trust me.”

“I – I trust you…”

“Good, now don’t interrupt me while I’m eating. It’s fucking rude,” he winked.

Negan ran his tongue repeatedly along her sex, growling at the sweet taste that coated his tongue. He looked up at her, watching as her face contorted into a pleasure that she had never felt before. He removed an arm around her leg to undo the button his pants and unzip his zipper to relieve the pressure that was building.

With his free hand, he spread her lips open, pulling back to look at her pink sex slickened with her own excitement. He grinned to himself, flicking his tongue repeatedly against her clit as he heard her moan loudly.

Negan never thought he would ever hear that sound escape her lips because of him.

“Negan!” Mary moaned, moving a hand to grasp the bedsheets tightly. His tongue felt wonderfully arousing against her and she wanted more. As she rolled her hips against him, Negan chuckled.

He pulled back and looked up at her, “You got a simple taste of this and now you want more? Greedy, greedy girl,” he winked.

“It feels really good…”

“And we’re only getting starting.”

Suddenly, Negan used Mary’s slickness to coat his long middle finger. She watched him intently, whimpering every time he came in contact with her sensitive clit. However, she gasped instantly when she felt the tip of his finger slowly enter her tight heat.

“Negan… Wait, ah…”

Negan rested a hand on her abdomen, keeping her still. “Shh, Mary… Relax for me, okay? I’ve got to get you warmed up before the real thing.”

She nodded, forcing herself to relax despite the unfamiliar penetration. As he continued to push his finger into her, Mary felt her walls slowly begin to loosen to accommodate to the intrusion. He relieved some of the tension by latching his lips onto her clit, causing another moan to escape her lips.

When Negan felt her walls give way to his finger, he quickly began a faster pace. His lips were still teasing her clit while thrusting his finger in and out of her tight heat. He wanted to at least make her come once before thrusting inside of her.

Mary suddenly felt a strange feeling overcome her. With a tight grip on the bedsheets, she leaned up on her elbows and convulsed around Negan’s face and finger. She shut her eyes as a loud moan escaped her lips; she was sure that the wives would hear it.

Negan pulled his slickened finger back, using his tongue to lap at her leaking juices. When he stood back up, he looked down at her and grinned at how spent she already looked.

“Oh, Mary, baby, don’t tell me you’re done…”

“No… I just – That was great.”

Negan smiled, leaning down to peck her lips. “Just you wait…” He pushed his hips against her, causing her to gasp at the hardening bulge that pressed against her.

Negan stepped back, removing his pants and boxers as his member bounced until it remained erect. He grasped the base of his member and ran the tip of his manhood along her soaking heat, allowing it to lubricate his dick.

“Fuck, doll… It’s taking a lot in me to not just push into you…”

Mary whimpered, her eyes deviating to his exposed member. She looked into his eyes and slowly leaned up to peck his lips lightly.

“I trust you…”

Negan genuinely smiled, “The moment you feel like you can’t take anymore, you tell me to stop and I will do it in a heartbeat.”

“I know… Just be gentle.”

Negan nodded, “Always, baby.”

With a few more teasing ministrations, Negan spit into his hand and stroked his member, allowing his spit to lubricate himself even further. Slowly, he found her opened and aligned his tip directly against it. Negan could already feel how tight she was.

“All right, Mary… Brace yourself.”

Mary nodded, her hands grasping the bedsheets tightly. Suddenly, she curled her toes at his large manhood entering her painfully. His member stretched her from the inside, grasping onto his dick in a tight vice almost instantly.

“Negan… Wait…” she whimpered, moving her hands to his abdomen to cease further movement.

Just like Negan promised, he remained still, dropping onto his forearms near her head. He gently stroked her hair away from her face, reassuringly placing kisses along her lips. “You’re doing great,” he said.

Mary smiled, shutting her eyes and nodding for him to continue. As Negan pushed his hips further into her, he felt the barrier that he needed to break.

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand as the other moved to grip her hip. “All right, baby… This is going to hurt, but I’ll do it fast, all right?”

Mary nodded, staring up at him. She leaned into his touch and moved a hand to rest against his own, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.

With a snap of his hips, Negan thrusted further into her, breaking the barrier and allowing himself to remain still. Her walls tightened around his manhood, causing him to groan at his own pleasure.

Mary shut her eyes tightly, her nails digging into his hand as she moaned loudly. She spread her legs even further as if it would relieve the pressure she felt. However, Negan slowly began to pull out only to push back in. It caused her walls to get used to his manhood, loosening enough to relinquish the pain.

“You okay?” he asked, kissing her forehead as his hips slowly moved against her.

Mary nodded, unable to speak as she whimpered with each thrust. She looked into his eyes, feeling every inch of his throbbing member within her depths. As her walls began to loosen and give way to his manhood, Mary bit her lower lip and urged him to move faster. “Faster, Negan… Please…”

Negan grinned, nodding. “Your wish is my fucking command, princess…”

Suddenly, he began to slam into her repeatedly. Her hips slapped against her own in a rapid pace, their skin hitting one another echoing off the walls. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last longer than he was used to, but now that he had her, it was his duty to make sure she was just as experienced as he was.

Mary moaned loudly, his name escaping her lips as the pain finally subsided and it was replaced with pleasure. With each thrust, she moaned, keeping her legs open for him to move easily within her. Negan dropped down to rest his forehead against her neck, rolling his hips sensually. He wrapping his arms around her, his hands resting on her backside as he pulled her against him with each thrust, allowing him to delve deeper into her tight abyss.

“Fuck, Mary…” he groaned against her, his fingertips digging into her skin at her backside.

She arched her back, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders as their body glided against one another. Sweat built at her temple and she knew that the same unfamiliar feeling she felt earlier was rapidly approaching.

“Negan… Yes!” she moaned, urging him to continue his thrusts. When he slammed his hips into her, she felt the slightest of contact against the hair that trailed at his lower abdomen and downwards. She moved a hand to his backside, keeping him against her as she rolled her hips upwards.

With him fully inside of her, Mary was able to create friction against her clit. After a few more movements of her hips, her walls immediately tightened and her body convulsed around his member once more. Her eyes were shut tightly and his name escaped her lips in a loud moan.

Negan was taken by surprise at the sudden climax. She was tight, tighter than he had ever felt before. So, he began to pick up his pace, pushing in and out of her tight depths to help stroke himself into his own release.

“Oh fuck, Mary…” he moaned, delivering a couple of sharp thrusts before he pulled out abruptly and released onto her lower abdomen. He was breathing heavily and Mary reached up to cup his cheek, leaning up to peck his lips lightly.

She looked down and noticed the stain of blood, panicking slightly.

Negan shook his head, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll have our sheets cleaned.”

Mary nodded, groaning when she moved to stand up.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he grinned.

Once Mary stood on her feet, she grasped the edge of the bed as a soreness settled along her lower half and her legs remained wobbly. Negan took her by surprise and hoisted her into his arms, carrying her bridal style to his connected bathroom. He set her down to run a warm bath and looked over at her as he allowed the water to fill halfway.

Negan cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes, “Was that okay for your first time?”

Mary grinned broadly, “When can we do it again?”

“Damn, woman. You know you’re going to be sore as shit –”

“It’s our honeymoon, right?” Mary smiled.

Negan chuckled, kissing her forehead lightly. “It sure fucking is…”

[andtheselkiesfour]

The Final Adventure

A Carry On Leavers Ball Fanfic 

words: 7,808

a/n: Big thanks to my irl friend Josie, who beta’d my fic, helped me when I got stuck, and didn’t get mad at me for dragging her into another fandom (okay, she got a little mad, but softened when I agreed to let her read some of my favorite fics). This is a normal 8th year fic, but I’ve obviously changed a bit from canon. i’ve also made the decision to post all the chapters at once.

Please like or reblog this so I’ll know if I should post more, and inbox ways I could improve (be nice tho pls I’m fragile).

ONE

x simon x

Going through the eighth year at Watford is optional. Attending the Leavers Ball at the end of term is also optional, but if you told this to certain people, they’d go to extreme lengths in order to convince you otherwise.

Penny is one of those people.

I was planning on going to the Leavers Ball anyways, but if I hadn’t been, Penny would’ve scared me into it. She keeps saying stuff like “it’ll be our final adventure at Watford!” and honestly, it makes me sad. She makes it sound like our promise to get a flat together is something she’s still thinking about, something that isn’t final. Of course, I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to live with her boyfriend, Micah, in America instead, but I’m still trying to cling onto what sliver of hope I have.

Penny and Agatha are in the library, looking at pictures of dresses on Google Images, and I’m sitting in a chair beside them, reading. Penny’s usually not one to get dressed up, but she’s practically obsessing over finding the perfect dress. Agatha, on the other hand, seems like she’s got it figured out. Which means I’ve got it figured out, because finding a tie that matches the color of her dress does not seem like a difficult task.

“What about this one, Penny?” Agatha points a manicured finger at the screen, and Penny scrunches her nose.

“It’s too long! I’ll trip.”

“Not if you wear heels,” Penny shakes her head and scrunches her nose again, and Agatha frowns, dropping her hand. They continue pointing out dresses to each other and disagreeing for well over half an hour, and I’m so lost in what I’m reading that I don’t hear what they’re talking about. When I finally look up, they’re both already looking at me.

I clear my throat, “hey, do you guys think vampires are actually allergic to garlic?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you go ask one?” Agatha scowls, and I blink. “Have you even been listening to me?”

“Uh… no,” I’m nothing if not honest. Agatha throws her hands in the air and looks over at Penny. Penny just raises her eyebrows and leans back in her chair.

“I asked you if chartreuse is okay for my dress.”

“That’s… that’s red, right?”

“It’s yellow-green, Simon. Honestly. Do you even want to go to the Leavers Ball?”

“Yes! Yes of course, Agatha. Yellow is fine.”

She softens, “okay.  I’ll show it to you when it comes in the mail.”

“Looking forward to it,” I smile.

Penny rolls her eyes, “you guys are gross. I’m going back to my room,” she stands and slings her bag over one shoulder.

“We’re gross? Trixie and her girlfriend are probably going to be in the room once you get there.”

“Yeah, but they’re gross for different reasons,” Penny pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stares at us. I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what she means and I’m too scared to ask, at least while Agatha is here.

After it’s silent for a few seconds, she sighs and turns around. We watch her walk out the door, then Agatha stands up and pulls her messenger bag over her head. “Walk me to my building?”

“Yeah,” I agree, putting my book away and reaching for her hand.

  x baz x

I’m on way back to the dorms after school when Dev spots me across the courtyard. I know he’s looking at me, and he knows I know he’s looking at me, but that doesn’t stop me from quickening my pace away from him. “Basil! Basil!”

I sigh and slow down considerably, and he hastens to catch up with me. He quickly falls into step beside me, his voice kind of breathy. I’m such a great friend.

“Mary Smith,” he raises his eyebrows at me and smirks, like that name is supposed to mean something to me.

“What about her?” I stop before going up the Mummers House steps and move out of Gareth’s way before he runs into me.  

“I asked her to the Leavers Ball,” Dev smiles, and I realize this must mean she said yes.

“That’s great; I’m happy for you,” and I am. I give him two pats on the shoulder, but pull back when he starts speaking again, far too excited for my taste.

“You know she has a twin, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to ask Kaitlyn to the dance?”

I laugh, and shake my head, unable to contain myself, “why would I want to have the same date as you?”

He scoffs, “they’re different people, Basil. Alright then, who are you asking?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody!” He throws his hands up in the air, apparently extremely offended, “you might as well just not go at all!”

“A date is not required.”

“Like hell it isn’t. There are loads of girls without dates yet. Why haven’t you asked someone out by now?”

“We still have two weeks. And besides,” I pause, making sure he’s looking me in the eyes, “a date. is not. required.” I start up the stairs, clearly done with this conversation, leaving Dev baffled and still quite a bit offended.

I hear him mumble “wait until I tell Niall,” but I honestly couldn’t care less. I know there are a lot of girls without dates, and I know most of them would say yes if I asked, but there aren’t any girls at this school that I would want to ask. There aren’t even any boys I would want to ask. Or could ask. There’s not a single soul that I’d like to hold hands with, or slow dance with, or scoop gross fruit punch into a plastic cup for. There isn’t a single person at this school that I’d like to go to the dance with.

Except Simon Snow.

TWO

x baz x

Even if Snow was girlfriendless and gay, there’d still be a larger chance of getting struck by lightning than me going to the ball with him. He kind of hates me. And I hate him too; I hate his stupid curls and his stupid golden skin, and the obnoxious way he smells like cinnamon and smoke. I hate how he makes my heart jump out of my chest sometimes, or how he can take away my breath just by looking at me a certain way, with so much annoyance and hatred.

Just as I’m thinking this, he walks into the room we share and falls into his bed. He lays there staring at the ceiling for only a moment before exhaling forcefully and throwing his elbow over his eyes. His shirt lifts up when he does this, revealing a golden strip of skin below his wrinkled white button-up and above his belt. I allow myself a glance at it, before returning my attention back to the notes sprawled out on my bed.

We try to ignore each other when we’re in the room, which usually works out for us. Though, it’s hard to ignore him when he keeps sighing at random intervals. After a few minutes of this, I put my pen down and look over at him.

“Will you stop that, Snow?” I squint at him, and he lifts his arm slightly, one eye peeking out from behind his arm. He drops it down again, and there’s a pause.

“Sorry…” he says quietly.

I spend a few more minutes annotating my notes before looking over at Snow. He had been so quiet I was almost convinced he left the room. But now, I see why he was so quiet. His cheeks are red and damp, and a tear is slowly rolling down his cheek.

I can’t think of a single reason why Snow would be crying. I should be crying, what with all this bloody homework I have to have done before tomorrow.

Knowing that he is crying merely a few feet away from me is making it impossible to concentrate on anything else. At least I know I’m not the reason he’s upset, although I have made him cry a few times in the pfast. After fifth year, I tried to be more conscious of my words, making sure that teasing him never crosses the line into hurting him.

“Snow, are you…” I start, trying to make my voice as non-patronizing as I can.

“No,” he replies before I can get the rest of my sentence out, his voice raspy.

“Excuse me?”

“You were going to ask if I’m okay. The answer is no. And I know you’re asking because you pity me, not because you care. So I’m not going to bother answering your next question, which is going to be ‘what’s wrong?’.”

“...That’s not what I was going to ask at all.”

“It’s… not?”

“I was going to ask if you needed the shower,” I sneer, standing up and making my way to my wardrobe across the room. This is a terrible save, because usually he showers in the mornings, but he must buy it because he just utters a small ‘oh’ from under his arm.

I just need to get away from his crying before I try to do something about it. Like hug him. If I tried to touch him, that would surely be the end of me, anathema ignored. Even if he didn’t kill me, I’d die just as easily of embarrassment.

There’s also the possibility of me making it worse, whatever is going on with him. I told myself to be more conscious of my words, but he makes it so damn easy to insult him when he’s pushing me. Sometimes I think he actually enjoys fighting with me. Then I remember he must, because for some twisted reason, I like it too.

I grab my stuff and shut the door to the bathroom. I marvel at the absence of Snow’s dirty towels on the floor, but notice he’s left the cap off his toothpaste again. I shake my head and smile before I recap the toothpaste, then turn on the shower head.

Once I’m in the shower it’s easier to think. My thoughts flow from Snow to the Leavers Ball like lava in a lamp. Sometimes the thoughts come together and I have to tell myself ‘no, bad Baz. That is not happening, and you know it.’

I end up spending way longer in there than I should, and the water goes cold.

x simon x

Once Baz is in the shower it’s easier to think. I stopped crying after talking to him, which is odd, but I’m relieved. Maybe I was just cried out and all dried up. I don’t enjoy crying, so I’m thankful I’ve stopped, but I still feel like something’s wrong. Something’s missing.

This is all wrong. So wrong. The way Agatha held my hand on the way to her building, like my hand was too big for her. Like we didn’t fit. The way Penelope seems to be spending more time talking about the ball than reading these days. The way nobody seems to be feeling scared about their future except me.

It feels like everyone has got it all figured out. Penelope and Agatha know exactly what university they want to go to and what they want to do with their lives. I don’t know anything, and I’m scared. I’m scared of being left behind.

It’s stupid. I know they’re not going to abandon me, but at the same time, why would they want me to stay in their lives? I’m a terrible mage. Eight years at Watford; by now I thought maybe I would’ve learned how to actually do magic correctly. It’s not the school’s fault, it’s mine. I’m a grenade, just waiting to go off. And Crowley, I wish I would go off already and get it over with.

x baz x

By the time I get out of the shower, Snow’s passed out. He’s not wearing the school pajamas he always wears to sleep. Instead, he’s still in his school uniform, lying almost the exact same way he was before I left the room. I wonder what he was doing the whole time and what he was thinking about.

I stare down at him, his freckles wet and his nose red, his hair mussed and falling into his eyes. His blanket has fallen on the floor sometime while I was gone. I hesitate, staring down at him, before grabbing the blanket off the floor and pulling it up to his chin.  He doesn’t stir, which is good because again, I’d die of embarrassment.

I clear the notes off my bed, feeling only slightly annoyed at Snow for distracting me from my homework. In all honesty, he’s always a distraction for me, even when he’s not there. And I can’t be mad at someone for being upset, because I highly doubt he’d make himself cry just to spite me.

Once I’m under my blankets, it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull me under too.

THREE

x simon x

“How do I look?” Penny twirls around once and then plops down onto Baz’s bed in front of me. She’s wearing a mint dress that goes just past her knees, and a matching silk shawl is wrapped loosely around her elbows. Her feet are bare; she’s left her shoes in the bathroom.

“Majestic,” I comment, as I loosen my green-and-black tie.

She snorts, “I’m not a horse, Simon.”

“You’re not? That explains a lot, actually.” This earns me a whack in the face with a pillow, one of Baz’s pillows, thrown at me in a low arch. I immediately retaliate with one from my bed, throwing it so it just barely hits her cheek, causing her glasses to become askew. She squeaks, then laughs, grabbing Baz’s other pillow and jumping up from his bed, towering above me. She starts pummelling me in the shoulder with it repeatedly, and I try to kick her away from me.

“Mercy, Penny, Mercy!” I gasp, trying to catch a breath in between fits of laughter.

“Don’t call me a horse!” she giggles, every word accented by another hit in the shoulder. It doesn’t hurt.

I hear our door creak open and we freeze, eyes wide, Penny hovering over me, her pillowed hand pulled back, ready to strike again, my foot pressed to her stomach, my hand reaching for the pillow. He clears his throat, and we turn our heads toward the door.

Baz has never seen Penny in our room. For eight years, we’ve been careful to have her out of the room before he gets back, but I’ve been so distracted lately that things like that have been regularly slipping my mind. The three of us continue to stare at each other, as if time is actually frozen. Penny is the first to break the silence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Simon.” She lowers her head and walks briskly out of the room, accidentally hitting Baz on the way. He squints when she goes past, then lifts his chin a little higher and locks eyes with me. I lift my chin in response, matching his expression as best as I can, although I’m not exactly sure what his expression is. My eyes dart to the right, making sure my wand is still resting on my bed, should I need it. I hear Baz snort.

“Do you really think I’d waste my time hurting you over that,” he says as he crosses the room. I have the striking suspicion that the ‘that’ he was referring to is Penny.

“I thought you were at football practice,” I said dumbly, trying to come up with an excuse as to why Penny would be in our room, even though I know that’s a bad one. I decide to ignore what he said and grab my wand anyway.

“I was. Obviously,” I look down at his uniform and feel embarrassed. He turns towards his wardrobe, and I relax a little. “How did Bunce get past the gender barrier?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully, twisting my wand in my lap.

“You don’t know?” He chortles, then turns around with his pajamas in hand, “I hope you realize I have ways of finding out.”

“Well, if you figure it out, please tell me.” Baz shakes his head, most likely still not believing that I don’t know how Penelope gets in the room, then goes into the bathroom.

Not even a second later, I hear him shout my name. “Snow!”

“What?” I push myself off the bed and open the bathroom door. I look up at him, then my eyes follow where he’s pointing. There’s a pile of Penny’s clothes on the floor; her button-up, her tie, her socks, her skirt.

“Those aren’t mine.”

“I guessed,” he stares at me. “Well?”

“Oh, right.” I start picking them up, and I see him fold his arms out of the corner of my eye.

“Could we speed up this process, maybe?” He taps his foot impatiently, like he has somewhere to be. Stupid, annoying prat.

I stop what I’m doing so I can stand up straight and stare hard at him, then I drop the clothes back onto the floor. He scoffs, reaching the other end of the tiny bathroom in one long stride, arriving just a couple inches in front of me, still scowling. Now that I’m this close to him, I can see that a few strands of hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat from practice, and there’s a vein on his forehead pulsating.

“Anathema!” I remind him, before he tries anything. I can tell he’s annoyed, which was my intention, but he’s already tried to kill me a couple times and I’d rather not  make this the third.

“I could get Bunce in so much trouble,” he starts, ignoring me. “Don’t press me, Snow. If you press me, I’ll press right back,” he presses his hand to my chest as he says this, then pushes me out of the room and closes the door in my face before I can react.

“Are you just going to keep Penny’s clothes, then?” I call through it, a strange image of Baz in Penny’s clothes appearing in my head. I hear Baz let out an annoyed groan, and the next thing I know, the door flings open. Penny’s clothes come flying out at me and one of her shoes bounces off of the top of my head.

“Anathema,” I mutter, rubbing my head, but I know that he didn’t mean to actually hit me- at least, I don’t think that he did- and therefore the Anathema won’t affect him.

FOUR

x baz x

I wouldn’t actually rat out Bunce; I couldn’t care less about how it would affect her, but I know tattling would make Snow too upset. Besides, it’s more trouble than it’s worth, talking to the Mage, and I don’t think she’ll be coming back anymore anyways.

He’s been spending a lot of time with her lately, I’ve noticed. Snow always follows around Bunce like a puppy on a short leash, but usually Wellbelove is hovering somewhere close by. I haven’t seen her with them for the past few days.

Not that I spend all of my free-time stalking Snow; it’s just hard to ignore his bouncing head of curls in the hall or his boisterous voice on the lawn, and I notice things.

I look over at Snow sitting just a couple seats next to me. We’re in our Ancient Runes class, the only class I share with him. It’s a pretty pointless subject, considering nobody actually uses this magic anymore. But it’s a required one, and thankfully, a pretty easy one. I spend most of the class staring out the window and wishing I was almost anywhere else, with the monotone voice of the professor as background noise to my thoughts.

Snow is scribbling notes lazily with his fountain pen, occasionally looking up to see if our professor has broken his lecture to write anything important on the board (spoiler alert: he hasn’t). Sometimes he’ll furrow his eyebrows and stare down at his paper before scratching something out then writing furiously over it. How Snow can remain animated in a class as boring as this one is beyond me, but I’m glad he does.

I feel vulnerable staring at him in class, but he’s the most interesting thing happening at the moment. He’s always the most interesting thing happening, but now that my choices are limited to watching him or watching dust settle on the windowsill, this is even more true.

I look past him and see that Wellbelove is staring at me. Well, that’s odd. She notices that I’m looking at her and flushes. She dips her head down to look at her notes, and I do the same.

Oh Merlin. There’s ink on my hand and my notes are smudged; tiny little hearts are scattered in the margins. Is… is that why Wellbelove was staring at me? She couldn’t have seen what I was doing (I didn’t even see what I was doing)- she’s sitting too far away.  

After class is over and I’m almost out the door, I see Wellbelove rush from her seat towards me. “Wait- Basilton!”

There’s no chance for me to pretend I didn’t hear her- we’re the only people left in the classroom. I sigh and turn to her, “yes, Wellbelove?”

“I…” she takes her place in front of me and we end up standing beside the classroom door. “Y-you were staring at Simon. You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

I laugh harshly, pleased with Wellbelove’s assumption. “If I was going to hurt him, wouldn’t that be only my business and his?” I start walking, hoping she won’t follow. Not much luck there.

I make long strides, and Agatha’s feminine legs struggle to keep up with mine. I can still hear her chasing after me once I’ve made it outside. Can’t she take a hint?

“Stand Your Ground!” I hear her cast, and I groan. Apparently taking a hint is not one of Wellbelove’s many talents. She circles around me, throwing her long blonde hair over one shoulder.

“What are you planning?” She demands, pointing her wand at my chest. I don’t say anything, not at all intimidated by her. She gets frustrated quickly. “Look, Simon is my b- my friend, and as his friend, it’s my duty to protect him.”

“Duty? He’s not a damsel in distress, you know- wait, did you say ‘friend’?” I smirk, not missing the way her voice faltered, like it pained her to say it. Did Snow and Wellbelove break up? Well, that would explain why he wasn’t as chipper as usual this morning before class. Usually he makes every noise possible while getting ready, but today, I actually slept an extra half-hour.

“I… That’s not your business,” Wellbelove mumbles sheepishly, shrinking back from me.

“Oh, so now we’re supposed to respect what is and isn’t someone’s business?”

She sighs. “You know, if you weren’t so… you… maybe more people would actually want to spend time with you.”

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Like me.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it, anyway. “You? So that’s what this is really about? A social call? What, next are you going to ask me to the ball?”

Wellbelove doesn’t respond, just lowers her wand from my chest and stares at the grass.

“Merlin, you were! I can’t believe this! Well, I’m sorry to decline your offer, Wellbelove, but I actually planned on going alone. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all finding someone else at this school who would love to go to the ball with someone such as yourself.”

“Why do you always have to be so mean, Basilton? I’m sorry I asked, okay? Is that what you want? This was a… a mistake. I’ll just... leave.” Her voice is shaky, and if she starts crying, I’m going to feel like the worst person on the planet.

“Wait, Agatha… I didn’t mean to make you upset. I really do mean that there are plenty of other people who would love to go with you, if what you’re implying about Simon and yourself are true.” She nodded. “I guess you’re right….”

“Good. Now, undo the spell, please, and if this ends up affecting my ability to play football… then you’re really going to see how mean I can be.”

FIVE

x simon x

The thunder crackles around me, lightning illuminating our room through the window in rapid intervals like a polaroid camera. It’s the kind of storm that rattles windowpanes and makes you think there’s a war waging upon your doorstep with every boom of thunder.

I had dozed off with my face pressed against an open library book, and the thunder wakes me with a start, almost knocking me from my desk chair. My cheek feels sticky from what I assume is the result of my face being stuck to a page, but looking down at my book I realize it’s from the small puddle of drool I’ve created while asleep. It distorts some of the words on the already-yellow page. Gross.

After I stop gagging at my uncultured sleeping habits, I notice the windowpane is, in fact, rattling. Shit. I fully intended to close it once I saw the gray cumulonimbus clouds passing over the courtyard, but I was only really expecting a little bit of rain, not an all out flood.

No matter the circumstances, I pull the window close and assess the damage. The floor in front of it is soaked, and though it’s on my side of the room, I know Baz is going to be pissed when he finds out. I throw a towel over it, accomplishing almost nothing, then I decide that it looks suspicious and I dump a pile of dirty clothes on top of it. I can already hear Baz’s ‘I told you so’ tone about always leaving the window open, even though when it’s closed the room gets sticky and hot. The hotness may not bother him, with his constant chill, but I can’t stand it.

Mentioning of Baz, where is he? Surely he can’t still be in the catacombs when it’s pouring like this? I try to get a glimpse out the window when the lightning flashes, but even with the light, the rain is so heavy that it’s impossible to see anything.

I check the clock on my laptop and see that it’s close to midnight, which means I’ve been asleep for a good few hours, which means Baz has been gone for more than a good few hours. Where is he?

x baz x

There’s a lot to be said about someone who asks their dead mother’s grave for advice about a ball they hardly want to go to. I know she probably can’t hear me, but she’s the only person I’d want to talk to about all this. The only person I trust.

“Maybe you could take Fiona,” I say outloud to myself. “She’s young-looking enough to pass as a student. But what fresh ways of embarrassing me could she come up with?”

Because of this, I’ve been down here for far longer than usual. I usually leave once I feel full, but tonight I just feel like being alone. It’s quiet here, and nobody ever bothers me (except for Snow, but he hasn’t followed me here in ages). It’s almost peaceful enough that I could just lean my head against a wall and doze off….

I’m not completely asleep when I hear the first crack of thunder. I stand up swiftly, swaying with the quickness of it, and start walking back to the Mummers house.

I can see rather well in the dark, but the sheets of rain and the wind slow me down a little. My clothes must be ruined; I can tell I’m soaked to the bone because this is the coldest I’ve felt in a while. I fling open the door, not caring if I wake Snow up, focused on getting into something dry and warm.

x simon x

The door flings open and a flash of lightning backdrops a shadow that I don’t recognize as Baz at first, with his hair hanging like curtains in front of his eyes giving him the appearance of something from a horror movie. He stomps into the room leaving a trail of water behind him, and suddenly I don’t feel so bad about leaving the window open. His white shirt is clinging to him, and I can see through it to his pale torso. He looks like shit; I’ve never seen him so messy and uncomposed like this before.

I watch wordlessly as he shuffles through his wardrobe, grumbles something, then walks into the bathroom.

He’s back not even a minute later, and announces “Powers out.”

“I’m not surprised.” Only the plumbing runs on electricity at Watford; we use candles for lighting inside the dorms and the school buildings. The candles are magic and they don’t melt or need to be relit. I watch from the edge of my bed as he walks in front of me and opens a drawer to my wardrobe.

“What the hell are you doing?” I pop up and push the drawer closed, and he pulls his hands back in surprise, most likely because I was only a hair off from squashing his fingers.

He brings a hand up to his forehead and runs it through his hair, trying to slick it back. Most of it just falls back into his eyes again. I try not to laugh.

“I need a towel,” when he pushes his hair back the second time, I can see the whites of his eyes are slightly red, and I almost feel sorry for him.

“Oh,” I blatantly glance over at the spot by the window and then back up at him. “Er, I don’t have any more.”

He ignores me and tries to open my drawer again. “Hey! Did you even hear me? Stop trying to open my drawer.”

“Why, is that where you keep your skirts?” He smirks.

“No, because I don’t like you touching my stuff,” I say, frowning, my sympathy and patience for him leaving as quickly as it came. “And that was Penny’s!”

“Well, I don’t like you being in the same room as me, but you learn to deal with these things,” he retorts. I keep my hand pressed firmly against the drawer as he tries to open it again.

With a groan of frustration, he removes his hands and turns to me. Suddenly, his hand is on top of mine, and the cold wetness of his skin and the fact that he’s touching me leaves me too shocked to move. When he laces his fingers with mine, I yank my hand away and blink up at him.

Satisfied, he pushes past my socks and boxers, like I have a secret hoard of towels tucked away at the bottom of the drawer. My cheeks feel hot. With a soft “hm” he closes the drawer.

“I… I wasn’t lying,” I stutter. My cheeks feel really hot. I wish I could open the window without letting in the still raging storm, but I doubt that would help the storm raging in my stomach.

Baz crosses over me and produces pajama bottoms and a plain white polo from his wardrobe. My eyes follow him the entire way; he’s still dripping onto the carpet. “Snow, close your mouth. It makes you look ridiculous. Not that you don’t anyways.”

I feel sick, and I don’t know why. Maybe he hypnotized me or did some weird vampire magic that doesn’t require him to speak. Either way, I want it to stop. “I… I need some fresh air.” I sway, taking a step forward towards the door.

“It’s still raining. Or did you manage to forget? If anyone could, it’d be you.” Baz unceremoniously reaches behind himself and pulls his shirt over his head. He never gets dressed in the room, at least not when I’m around to see.

His torso is what you’d expect from someone who regularly plays football. He’s got muscle, but he’s still fairly lean, and he’s paler there than anywhere else. He doesn’t look bad, which isn’t really surprising considering how much pride he seems to take in his appearance.

All of this is so unlike him; the getting-dressed-in-front-of-me, the touching, his deep blue-water gray eyes looking red and glazed over to make a pale silver. Of course! The weird vampire magic wasn’t done to me, it was done to him! As much as I loathe Baz, I’d rather have him as a roommate than this imposter whose intentions I have no way of knowing.

My eyes widen as this creature throws the shirt onto his- no, not his- Baz’s bed, and I’m reaching for my wand faster than you can say Out, out, brief candle! Which I do, shrouding the room in darkness.

SIX

x baz x

“Merlin, Snow, what did you do that for?” I blink, my eyes adjusting to the darkness within a few seconds. I know Snow can’t see me, because he’s pointing his wand at least half a foot away from where I’m actually standing. He’s also holding it with both hands, his arms as outstretched as they’ll go without turning himself into elastigirl.

“What have you done with him? ...or to him, whatever,” his voice is resolute and final, like it’s definite that I know who ‘him’ is. I slowly pull on my shirt, careful not to make any noise in the process.

“Him who? What are you--”

“You know who! “ He shouts, his wand bobbing up and down with each syllable.

“Voldemort?” I smirk. “That’s not even the right fando-”

“See! Baz would never so blatantly break the fourth wall like that!”

“Baz-?” I start, but he cuts me off before I can even finish my sentence.

“Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

“I’m… I’m right here?”

“RRRGGHH!!” Snow growls, pitching forward with a level of intensity and determination that I have never seen from him before-- and that’s saying something. He rams his foot into the edge of my bed and lets out a wail, dropping his wand and falling to floor.

I hastily pull my wand out of my trouser pocket and murmur If Only One Remembers to Turn on The Light, because for some reason, the only thing I can continue to think about while Snow is acting crazy is Harry Potter. The candles flicker again. He looks up at me like a wounded puppy, then hardens his expression and quickly reaches for his wand. He points it at me again, and stands, the toes on his left foot curled. “Don’t come any closer!”

I hold up both hands in surrender. “I haven’t moved a muscle since you ran at me.”

“Drop your wand!,” he says, and although it’s not a spell, I obey like it is, letting my wand fall unto the bed. “Where is he?” he demands again.

“Are you sure you haven’t got me confused with another Basilton Grimm-Pitch you know?”

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Snow pushes on, ignoring me. “and I’ll hurt you if you don’t tell me what you did.” He steps forward, and now his face is so close to mine that I can see each and every individual freckle on his nose.

“I didn’t… I mean, I am Baz-” he cuts me off by lightly pressing the tip of his wand into my neck.

“Don’t make me do this.”

“Simon,” I whisper, slowly moving my hand to push his wand down. His hand drops, and his eyes widen. I expect him to jump back, but he stays staring up at me. He’s breathing hard; I can feel his breath on my neck. Its warmness pools somewhere below my bellybutton.  

“So then… you are Baz?”

“Of course I am. And I’m very touched that you’d be willing to hurt someone for me, but you and I both know that you couldn’t do much damage with your wand.” I wait for him to protest, to spit at me and tell me to go fuck myself, but he doesn’t move.  “Who else would I be?”

“I just thought… I thought…,” he swallows, his eyes still wide.

“You thought…?” I try not to stare at his slightly-parted lips as I wait for his answer. He’s so close to me and I don’t really trust myself not to do anything about it, so I grab his elbow and push him back a little. Just a step; I don’t want him too far from me. He doesn’t flinch when I touch him, so I don’t move my hand.

He doesn’t respond. “Well, whatever it is, you thought wrong.”

Now he’s blinking, his eyes pinned to my chest, staring right through me. It’s like someone’s cast a Stay, Stay, Good Boy! on him. “Snow? Are you okay?” A-and I’m asking because I’m concerned, not because I- how did you put it?- ‘pity you’.”

He looks up at me as if he’s just come out of a trance. “I’m fine,” he squares his shoulders and I drop my arm before he realizes it’s there.

“I don’t think you are. Your face is really red, do I need to get someone-”

“No, don’t. I’m fine. I don’t want you running after me; if I needed something, I’d get it myself. I don’t need  you.”

“I never said you did…,.” I mumble, but he’s already walking away from me. I feel like our conversation is over, and now we’re going to go back to ignoring each other for the rest of the night. Now that we started talking, I certainly don’t want to stop. I never want to stop talking to Snow, but something feels… different tonight. I’m worried about him, if I’m being honest.

I emerge from the bathroom, changed into my jeans, feeling dryer and warmer. My hair is clumping together and falling in my eyes, but I guess I’ll just have to deal.

“Me and Agatha broke up.”

“I-- what?”

“The other day.”

“Okay?”

“She said it was because of you.”

I sit down on the edge of my bed, parallel to him. He’s sitting on the edge of his, too, his elbows digging into his thighs and his hands in his hair. I wait for him to look up at me, but he never does. I wonder if that would hurt more.

“I don’t know why she would say that,” I admit, thoroughly confused. Wellbelove didn’t speak to me until after the two of them had broken up.

“That’s all she told me.”

“Oh. Well… she did try to ask me to the ball…,” I offer, not wanting to keep any secrets from him.

“What?!” His head snaps up, and there’s more heat in his eyes than in all the lit candles in the room combined. I hold up my hands in surrender.

“I didn’t do anything, Simon. I don’t like her in the slightest, and even if I did, I wouldn’t do anything about it. It’s not honorable to pine after someone who's in a relationship, though, sometimes you can’t exactly choose who you fall for….”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” He’s right. I shrug.

He sighs, then falls back onto his mattress with a soft thud, thoroughly breaking our brief moment of eye contact. “Man. This sucks. I’m going to the ball alone, and my ex-girlfriend is going to it with my roommate.”

I laugh. “Simon, I told her no.”

Simon sits up again, leaning forward towards me from his bed. He’s a little too close for my liking. “You did? But why?”

Despite this, I do nothing to widen the distance between us. “I told you. I don’t like her.”

And neither does he. But what he does do, is smile. I can’t help it; I smile too. “Well, this sucks considerably less, but it still sucks. I still have no one to go with.”

“What about Bunce?”

“She didn’t want to say she’s going with me then feel bad later when she inevitably spends most of the night talking to Agatha.”

I nod. After a moment of silence, I speak again, “I could go with you.”

“Um,” is all he says. Then he blinks and leans back away from me.

“I…,” I start, then stop again. I don’t know how to dig myself out of that hole. Thankfully, I don’t have to.

“You know what? Sure. My week has already been awful; what harm is this going to bring? And anyway, we won’t have to ever see each other again afterward.”

I nod, unable to speak, my stomach twisting for more reasons than one.

SEVEN

x simon x

“Sorry,” I say as I look down to tie my bowtie.

“Why?” Baz asks, already completely ready, waiting for me at the door.

“First off, for taking so long, second off, for us not matching. Agatha’s dress was… what did she call it? Chartreuse? Anyway, I thought it was an ugly color, but I didn’t tell her that.”

“It’s alright. Your tie is still crooked, though.” The usual snarky comments from Baz have returned, but this time, it’s not said with any snark at all. It feels weird. It’s like eating a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich without the peanut butter. Though, I suppose that’d just be toast.

“Rrrrgh!,” I growl in frustration, not sure exactly how to tie a bowtie. Or any tie, for that matter. “Can you just tie it for me?”

“Um…” Baz looks me up and down, then furrows his eyebrows. “I-- I guess, yeah.”

He helps me, his hands shaking slightly for some reason, then we’re ready to leave.

Though we’re not linking arms or doing anything to really draw attention to ourselves, some of the people look surprised to see Baz and I walk through the door together, including Penny, and especially Agatha. I hover awkwardly in the doorway for a bit while Baz goes over to the table filled with finger foods. Penny leaves Agatha for a moment to come talk to me.

“Hey, Simon...,” she begins, slowly. Then, all at once, “can I just ask--”

“It’s not a big deal.” I shrug. And it isn’t. And it shouldn’t be. We just walked through the door together; nobody should be reading too much into it. “I know I’m not going to be spending most of the night with you guys, so--”

“Hey, no, don’t even say that. I’m still here for you, no matter what. You were my friend first, okay? I’m not taking sides.”

I frown. “How can you even say that, Penny? How can you say that, when you ditched me for her.”

“Simon, we were getting ready!”

“All weekend?”

“It’s what girls do, Simon.” She rolls her eyes, and I hate that she decided to wear her purple glasses with her mint-green dress, and I hate how beautiful I still think she looks in her dress even though I’m angry at her. I hate that our friendship is falling apart at this very moment, and it’s all my fault somehow. Most of all, I hate that I’m not actually angry at her. I’m sad, and I just don’t know how to handle that.

So instead, I don’t. I walk away from her, pressing the ball of my palm into my left eye. This was supposed to be our final adventure at Watford. I was supposed to be making small talk with Penny and Agatha about our outfits and plans for the future, but instead, I’m walking away from whatever friendship I had with them and trying not to cry.

I bump into someone, and for the first time in forever, I’m glad to see that it’s Baz. “Simon? Are you okay?”

I nod, even though it’s a lie that I know Baz will see right through. “I’m fine, I just… Penny was.…”

He looks disappointed in me and I feel ashamed. “You didn’t try to talk to her, did you?”

I nod again.

He sighs and offers me the sour cherry scone I didn’t realize he was holding. “Here. I know they’re your favorite.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hm,” Baz says, offering no other explanation. Nevertheless, I take it and thank him, eating it in only three bites.

The loud, upbeat music stops, and for a few seconds, spare for the quiet chatter here and there, it’s quiet. Then it’s replaced by a slower song, which I wouldn’t know until later was “Anathema” by Twenty One Pilots (I always wouldn’t realize how fitting it was until much later, too).

“Come on, Baz. Let’s go dance,” I say grabbing his hand. He flinches, then slips his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together until we get toward the middle of the dance floor, where he then moves his both hands to my shoulders.

“Why? Why are you slow dancing with me? You hate me.” He practically spits the word out, but his voice is sad. I shake my head.

“I don’t hate you, Baz.”

“Since when?”

I shrug from under his hands. “I don’t know. Do I have to figure that out now? I just want to live in this moment.”

He nods. “Okay, Simon.”

“Okay, now it’s my turn to ask: since when?”

“What?”

“Since when have I become Simon to you?”

“You’ve always been Simon to me. You’ve always been a lot to me, actually, but I didn’t really realize what exactly I thought of you until fifth year.”

“I don’t really understand what you mean,” I admit.

“Simon.” He slides one of his hands up from my shoulder to my cheek. It’s cold, and I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart thudding heavily in my cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

I swallow. I don’t think I realize what I’m agreeing to once I say yes, but Baz certainly does. And as he kisses me, I don’t feel like the Leavers Ball was my final adventure at Watford.  

It’s only the beginning of a new one with Baz.