Tumgik
#penny knew about snowbaz before simon and baz
not-totally-blind · 11 months
Text
Snowbaz "Better Than She Can"
Baz knew that what Wellbelove had with Snow was complicated, she had Simon Snow by her side and still she wasn't happy, she had what Baz had wanted since the day that the crucible brought them together (even if she didn't know it at first). Back then and yet she dared to think about leaving him.
The last attack of the Humdrum had left a tense atmosphere in Watford, for some reason Snow had disappeared for longer than the Sorcerer had told the teachers, and he had not reported news of his beloved chosen one, he even seemed somewhat anxious.
Baz began to feel concern bloom in her chest when she noticed that Bunce looked more worried every day, if she had begun to assume the worst, then the situation was at its worst for her. She began to sleep in the catacombs because the pain of waking up and seeing Simon's bed empty was too great, she had even shed some tears for the fear that her beloved enemy had died and no one knew where to look for her body.
Even Snow's side friends like Rhys were starting to look down, but not Wellbelove. At first, he thought it was the faith she had that Simon Snow was invincible from one of the people who had seen it first hand, but when she didn't seem affected after three weeks he began to meddle a bit, just a light follow up. , and I hear a conversation between Bunce and her.
“You don't seem affected by Simon's disappearance” and what a relief it was not to be the only one who had noticed. “Do you know something? Or have you just not processed it yet?
The blonde's response left him with pure anger running through his body.
"I've been ready for him not to come back since we started dating." She at least seemed a little guilty. "It's not that I don't want him or anything, Penny, I just know how to live a life without Simon in it."
How dare she? Simon Snow had chosen her to give him her heart, she was what he considered her home, and this is how she paid for it? Just accepting that he never comes back.
Baz considered what her life would be like if Snow didn't come back, no more seeing him eat his beloved sandwiches and cherry scones, no more golden curls lit by the rays of dawn and no more blue eyes that would look at him suspiciously. She would never have the chance to imagine that Snow didn't hate him because he never treated him right, and now it might be too late.
If he were Simon's mate (isn't that too beautiful a thought?) he wouldn't be ready to ever let go, he wouldn't be able to turn the page, he wouldn't even be sure he wanted to go on with his life as before if he'd known the taste of lips from Snow. Agatha Wellbelove didn't deserve the love Simon Snow had given her, he deserved people who would miss him forever (Baz had eternity to love him).
And yet, Simon chose someone who didn't value him.
8 notes · View notes
sillyunicorn · 2 years
Text
Snowbaz Mad Libs #2-4
Thank you @facewithoutheart for your words for my Snowbaz mad libs game and for requesting all three stories! Thank you also for the beta help and fluffing up stories 1 and 2 ❤️
(Christina notes that although she did read the stories ahead of time she did not look at them when coming up with her word list)
Every Rainbow Loyalty
Simon complained all the way down the corridor, feeling sadpants. Baz had called him a badger earlier, and it really stung, even though it was hardly the first time Baz had insulted him that way. Simon wasn’t sure what he’d do when he saw Baz next.
Suddenly, Penny poked her head out of the Sex Education classroom.
“Simon!” she exclaimed. “Where have you been? Gareth was just about to show us how to treat wands. I know you don’t want to miss that.”
Simon sighed. Penny was always pulling him into her helpless adventures (although she would say the opposite was true).
The activity ended up taking eleventy billion hours, so it was late when Simon finally got back to their room. Simon didn’t mind though; any time away from Baz was probably for the best.
“Holy tits!” Baz shouted when Simon opened the door to their room. “You can’t just barge in like that when I’m feeling!”
“Oh yeah?” Simon said. “What are you going to do about it, you little nargle?”
Simon stared Baz down; both eyes narrowed and one hand on his hip.
“This,” Baz said, and kissed him.
Snakes and ladders, Simon thought. Things were starting to make a whole lot more sense.
Before Baz could pull away, Simon kissed him back.
And back, and back, and back.
When Loyalty is Rainbow
Baz sighed. University life was turning out to be less glamorous than the movies. In addition to a crush on his best friend and roommate, he had a big test in Sex Education tomorrow, and he’d already spent eleventy-billion hours studying for it. The whole situation made him feel downright sadpants.
He heard Simon feeling in the other room, and thought about giving up studying and seeing if Simon wanted to treat some wands instead. Simon was usually up for that. (Simon always being up for whatever Baz wanted was part of the problem, honestly.)
Suddenly there was a helpless knock on the door. Simon ran out of his room to open it.
“Gareth!” Simon said. “How’ve you been? You look like a nargle.”
“I don’t know what that is, but holy tits! Put on your hottest outfit because the Snakes and Ladders are playing at that club downtown.”
Simon turned to Baz. “What do you think?”
“Sure,” Baz said, giving up on his studying at last. He’d been working harder than a badger and if he didn’t know it by now, he never would. (Plus, seeing Simon dressed up was something he wouldn’t pass up, exam or no exam.)
Simon beamed at him, and Baz felt it ignite something in his chest. Tonight, he promised himself. Tonight he’d tell Simon how he really felt.
Baz put on his best suit, Simon threw his arm around his shoulders, and together they complained out into the night.
Once Upon a Rainbow Loyalty
Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince, who lived in a helpless tower with his eleventy billion badgers.
One day, his parents announced that he was to be married, which the prince did not want.
To avoid his impending betrothal, he told his parents that he was, in fact, already in love.
“His name is Simon,” he told his parents. “And we have already pledged our love to one another.”
In fact, he and Simon had made no such promises. But he knew he could get Simon to agree. You see, he and Simon had once treated some wands together under a full moon, and that does create a certain bond.
The prince sent Gareth to fetch Simon, who looked quite sadpants when he finally appeared.
“Sorry for the wait, sire, I was wrestling with some nargles. Snakes and ladders, there’s another one!” He pulled it out of his hair and quickly squashed it under his boot.
“I see,” the prince said, questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment.
“So what was it you wanted with me? More help with your Sex Education lessons?” Simon waggled his eyebrows.
“That was one time,” the prince seethed. “And no. I need you to pretend to be in love with me so my parents won’t make me marry someone else.”
“Holy tits!” Simon said. “I never thought this was how I’d be proposed to. Don’t you think we should do some, I don’t know, feeling first?”
The prince sniffed haughtily. “I’m not asking you to marry me, just pretend to be in love with me.”
“Well alright,” Simon said. “Actually, I don’t think that will be that difficult. You see, I’ve been in love with you ever since you asked me to complain with you in the forest that one time.”
“Really?” the prince asked.
“Yep,” Simon said. “So, will you marry me?”
“Nothing would make me happier,” the prince replied. And they lived happily ever after.
21 notes · View notes
caitybug · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVOURITE PURPLE QUEEN @thehoneyedhufflepuff ! @krisrix and I love you so much and wanted to give you a fun snowbaz shenanigan where there’s confused feelings, magic gone awry, and, of course, lots and lots of purple 💜💜.
Baz is going to kill me. He’s going to rip my esophagus from my throat and drain me dry. 
I didn’t think this would happen.
I only—
I thought—
I guess I didn’t think, technically. I just went off a bit.
And now I’m staring at Baz’s shirt. The one he’s supposed to wear on his fucking date tonight.
(Date.) (I didn’t think Baz dated.)
I just assumed Baz was the type who everyone wanted (look, even I can admit he’s fit), but who was elusive and hard to get.
His shirt was purple. A lovely lavender shade that would have looked all too good against his skin. It’d be a light shade in comparison to his dark hair that would hit right above the collar of the shirt.
(Would he button all the way up?) (Surely not.) (He’d probably let at least his collar bone show—lead whoever he’s dating on. Keep them wanting more.)
I’ve only really seen Baz in his uniform. So seeing him pull this out of his wardrobe has made my mind do flips. 
When I asked what he was doing he just sneered at me. “Going on a date, Snow.”
I blinked at him as he walked out of our room. (Probably to drain rats before his date.)
Is he going on a date with another vampire? Or is this a situation where he takes his meal out before sucking it dry? 
I was supposed to have lunch with Agatha today. But that can’t happen any more. (Not now. Not since I fucked everything up.)
I think, briefly, that he won’t notice.
(Simon, you turned his purple shirt white. He’ll notice.)
It’d still look lovely on him.
(Prat.)
I pace the area between our beds, trying to think of a solution.
Could call for Penny.
(No, not enough time. He could be back at any moment.)
Is there a spell?
I frown. We’ve not been taught color changing spells. (Though didn’t Penny change her hair colour once?) (I think that was an accident too.)
I huff and sit on my bed, letting my head rest in my hands, letting my fingers twist the curls that fall off my forehead. 
My magic just calmed down, but I can already start to feel it come to the surface again as my stress levels rise.
I didn’t mean to do it. I guess I was focusing on the shirt a bit too much. About the date. About what the date was possibly covering up. 
A date.
What kind of person would Baz go on a date with?
I bet she’s bloody perfect. 
Dark hair, same intense eyebrows. Just as posh and put together as he is.
I try to remind myself that it’s not a date. That it’s most likely a plot. A way to cover up a meeting with the Old Families.
(Yeah. That’s got to be it.)
I stand back up and walk to his clothes, thinking they’ll give me answers. (They won’t.) (I’ve already sized them up at this point. Given them a good solid shaking down.) 
They’ve not given any clues yet. No matter how much fear I strike in every pleat and stitch. 
I lay his clothes down again, pondering my next move. 
I could leave? Act like I have no clue.
(He’d never buy it.)
Knowing Baz, he’d hunt me down. Maybe bring me along on this date and make her watch as he tore me apart, limb from limb.
I hear the faint sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs. I hope, briefly, that it’s someone else. That I’ll hear them stop before reaching the final few steps to our room.
(They don’t, though.)
“Fuck,” I murmer. “Please god turn purple,” I say helplessly to his shirt. It stays a stark white, mocking me. (If shirts could have eyebrows, I swear…)
I hear the footsteps reach our door and my heart rate spikes, making the next sentence come out of my mouth dripped in desperation and magic. “Just be purple!”
The door opens; my eyes are shut tight, prepared for what’s about to come to me.
“What the fuck did you do, Snow?” he seethes.
I grimace, my entire face scrunching up on itself at his reaction. (Knew he’d notice.)
I turn around to face the music, to own up to turning his purple shirt white, but when I open my eyes- I can’t speak.
Not because I literally can’t speak.
I’m just, quite actually, speechless. 
Baz’s hair. His uniform, his lips- his hands.
They’re all various shades of purple.
He stomps up to me, grabbing the front of my shirt and practically spitting in my face. “I repeat, Snow. What the fuck did you do?”
My hands are up in defence, trying to let him see reason. (What’s the reason? There’s no logic to get me out of this situation. I’m fucking done for.)
“I—er—well,” I stammer. I feel a bead of sweat going down my forehead. 
Baz’s eyebrows are a dark shade of purple, matching his hair. They’re downturned, making a crease in the middle of his forehead as he waits for me to spit it out.
“Use your words, Snow,” he says, letting go of my shirt and crossing his arms. 
I think, briefly, that I dislike the purple his eyes now have. That I prefer the grey, even when he’s angry.
It’s calming- like a grey sky on a lazy rainy day. Or the color of ocean waves. A soft grey and slight blue mixed together.
He scoffs, realizing I’ve nothing to say to explain myself, walking over to the bed to look at his clothes.
I take a look at the bed, expecting to see relief at the fact that I managed to turn his shirt back to its original colour.
Instead it sits, the only non-purple item in the room. A stark white in contrast to everything else.
I blink twice, trying to see if maybe it’s just a very light purple.
(It’s not.)
Fuck.
“I, er—” I take a step closer to him, think better of it, and back away again. “I hope your date likes the colour purple?”
“Even if he does, I can’t be seen like this.” He walks to his wardrobe and pulls something out of a box on the bottom shelf. (Huh—haven’t seen that before.)
When he turns around he’s got his mobile in his hands.
“You can’t have—”
“If you try to tell me what I can and can’t have while we are currently standing here completely purple because of your fuckup I will throw you into the moat.” He looks down at his phone and starts typing as he walks to the bathroom.
I think, for a moment, I just got through the worst of it- but before he slams the door shut he shouts “You had better fix this by the time I get out, because if I have to cancel a date and any chance of having my normal complexion back- you’ll beg for death.”
The door slams shut, echoing loudly in my ears.
I let out a deep exhale.
He’s cancelling the date. 
That alone seems to help my chest uncoil for some reason. Just knowing that instead of going out with someone else who will probably only aid in my downfall—he’ll be here. Under my watchful eye instead.
I lay down on my blankets and stare up at our now purple ceiling.
I hear the shower run. (Maybe Baz thinks he can wash the purple away.)
I close my eyes, letting myself ease into relaxation. To calm down for a minute before trying to problem solve.
But then it hits me, and I jolt up out of my bed and to the bathroom door.
I knock once.
Twice.
And bang three more times.
“Wait, Baz—did you say he?” 
248 notes · View notes
august-anon · 3 years
Text
On Love’s Light Wings
Alright if you’ve look at my blog the past three days you’d know that I’ve been obsessively rereading Carry On/finally reading Wayward Son lol. 
I wrote this inbetween finishing Carry On and starting Wayward Son yesterday, so it’s not really canon compliant with how we learn their relationship has been fairing in the interim, but who cares because that’s all pain and I’m here to write about fluff lol.
----
Fandom: Carry On/Simon Snow
Ship(s): SnowBaz
Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Simon/Ler!Baz
Word Count: 2887 words
Summary: Simon and Baz are having a quiet moment together under the stars, and Baz discovers something interesting about Simon's wings.
[ao3 link]
---------------------------------
                               Baz
Things became a right mess, after the whole ordeal with the Mage and the goatherd (Ebb, Snow would tell me. Her name was Ebb.) and the Humdrum.
We were questioned and carted around, barely getting a chance to breathe. Everyone wanted to know what happened, and once they knew, it was time to get the kids out of the way so the adults could handle it. 
I went home to my family. Snow went home with Bunce.
It was hard for a while, getting a chance to see each other. Simon and I would steal moments, when we were called to meetings together. We would sneak away, hold hands. Sometimes we would kiss.
But Simon had drawn back. I wasn’t surprised, with everything that had happened, I would’ve been more surprised if he hadn’t. But he drew into himself and wouldn’t come back, and I didn’t know how to help. Kisses were chaste and brief, hand-holding was tight and desperate, and most everything else was off the table.
He’d flinch away from my touch anywhere else.
It had hurt, but I had spent nearly half my lifetime hurting for Snow. I could do it a little while longer. And my patience paid off. Snow healed, albeit slowly. He started letting us -- me and Bunce, he had even shut her out after everything -- back in. I was able to see him more often, sneaking away from Watford for the weekends. I was allowed to place my hand in the middle of his back, on his neck, his stomach, his sides, his legs.
But there were two things I could never touch (or maybe it was three, if you counted them as separate limbs), that no one could ever touch, and frankly, I couldn’t find it in myself to blame Snow for that. His wings and his tail were a delicate matter. A harsh reminder. I teased him about them once and he didn’t speak to me for three weeks. I’ve learned my lesson now, I won’t tease him about them until he’s ready.
We’re curled up on the hood of my car, now, the echoing heat of the previously-running engine keeping us warm in the chilly early-spring night. Well, keeping Snow warm. Vampires don’t need to keep warm like humans do. We’re already so cold. 
I’ve got my arms wrapped around him -- in the middle of his back, carefully placed in the space between where the bases of his wings end and where his tail sprouts from his tailbone -- and he’s got his head on my chest and we’re staring up at the sky. I don’t think either of us has said anything since we got situated on the hood, but I don’t mind, and I doubt Simon does either.
Instead I sigh -- it ruffles his curls, makes them tickle my nose, but I don’t mind -- and pull him even closer.
                              Simon
I don’t think Baz knows he’s doing it. He’s got his hands between my wings and my tail -- and that’s something I’ve really appreciated these past months, Baz doesn’t push like Penny does, he doesn’t even ask when I’m going to let him touch them -- but they’re brushing up and down. I think it's a subconscious movement, because his fingers keep bumping against the base of my wings and he isn’t even reacting. Normally, he gives them a much wider berth.
I’m trying to hold still. I don’t want to break the moment, it’s peaceful and calm and quiet and everything we haven’t been able to have in a very long time, but it feels weird and it’s hard not to squirm. If I squirm, though, Baz will pull back. And he’ll ask questions. And maybe he won’t want to hold me again because he’ll be afraid of touching my wings -- not that Baz is afraid of much of anything.
But the thing is, maybe Baz isn’t afraid. Maybe he thinks my wings and tail are as weird and inconvenient as I do. Maybe he’s disgusted by them, and that’s why he’s never pushed to touch them like Penny has. Maybe he’s just being nice by staying with me as I mope around with these mutations sprouting from me.
No, that doesn’t make sense. Baz isn’t nice.
But what does make sense about our relationship?
                              Baz
Snow’s been slowly tensing up for minutes now. I can’t tell if he’s upset about something or just uncomfortable, and it’s infinitely harder to tell without being able to see his face. I wish I could sweep my hands up and down his back to let him know that it’s okay, but I’m not allowed to touch his wings and I’m not going to push.
Not like Bunce. I saw him shout at her the other week. Her curiosity is going to get her in trouble someday -- as if it already hasn’t.
But the thought does draw my attention to my hands, and I realize that they’re already moving. I don’t know how long they’ve been moving for. And I freeze when my fingertips brush against the base of Snow’s wings.
That’s why Simon’s been so tense.
Simon flinches when I freeze, and I try to calculate how big of a mistake I just made. I pull my hands away like I’ve been burned and Simon flinches again, this time pulling back from me.
I never apologize -- Pitches don’t apologize -- but for Simon I just might.
For Simon, I just might do a lot of things.
Simon’s bottom lip is drawn between his teeth when I’m able to finally get a glimpse of his face. He looks nervous and upset and confused, and I’m not sure what to do with that combination. Before all of this, I might’ve pushed. Tried to make him cry, upset him in every way possible because it was the only thing I knew how to do aside from love him.
I’m trying to learn how to do new things now, though.
“Simon,” I start, and he meets my eyes at the use of his first name. “I--”
But he doesn’t let me finish. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and blurts out his words like they’re vomit. Simon’s never been good with words, and that hadn’t changed in the months that they’d been dating.
“You-can-touch-them-if-you-want-to,” he says, and his words run and slur together like alphabet soup. I can barely understand him.
I stare at him, to make sure he really means it. To make sure he doesn’t feel like me or Bunce have pressured him into it, that he’s really giving me permission. Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have cared. But once upon a time, Simon didn’t love me back, and I wouldn’t go back to that time for anything.
“Unless--unless you don’t want to,” Simon tacks on, and I know what I have to do.
Instead of answering him, I slowly raise up a hand. Simon’s wings twitch and fan out, but they’re trembling like they want nothing more to squeeze back shut against his back. I move a little faster so they don’t do that before I get there.
His wings feel exactly like I expected them to. Warm and leathery. They don’t hum with magic like I expected them to, but that makes sense, because Simon’s magic is gone now. He’s never going to hum again, and I’m okay with that.
I still don’t know if he is.
Either way, he’s still my Simon.
His wings twitch more at my touch, my fingertips dragging across them. Simon makes an odd face in response, all scrunchy and kind of confused.
“All right, Simon?” I say, and it comes out softer than I meant it to.
Simon doesn’t acknowledge that. He nods. “It feels weird.”
I tilt my head. “Weird how? Weird bad?”
Simon shakes his head. “Just weird.”
I roll my eyes and make my touch a little firmer. As I continue to trail my hand across the wing, the angle gets awkward, and my touch becomes more fingernails than fingertips. Simon’s eyes bulge wide out of his head and he squeals. For the second time that night, I rip my hand away as though I’ve been burned.
“Simon?” I ask.
But Simon’s not listening to me. His eyes are locked on the wing I was touching, wide and nervous. I can’t tell if I hurt him. It’s frustrating. I don’t want to hurt him, anymore. 
                              Simon
This is absolutely unfair. I’d managed to hide it from Baz all these years. Penelope knew -- then again, Penny knew everything, it seemed -- and Agatha suspected, but Baz never knew.
His former mortal enemy, Simon Snow, is horribly, unbearably, stupidly ticklish. (And he maybe didn’t mind it as much as he would pretend to).
And of all the things to reveal that secret, it had to be my wings. Because it wasn’t enough that the rest of me was ticklish enough that a stray poke would send me rocketing into the ceiling, my magical wings were ticklish enough that Baz’s fingertips almost sent me flying away.
“Simon,” Baz says, and something tells me it isn’t the first time he’s said it. “Are you all right?”
And I want to deflect. I want to say it felt weird, or it hurt, or literally anything but the truth, but I can’t. Because Baz’s eyes are filled with guilt -- and I’ve gotten better at that lately, reading Baz’s emotions in his eyes when he refuses to show what he’s feeling on his face -- and I know he’s beating himself up over it. He probably thinks he actually hurt me.
“Fine,” I say, then I start stammering. I finally manage to force out, “Just tickled s’all.” I immediately regret it.
Baz looks like the cat who caught the canary.
                              Baz
Ticklish.
Simon Snow is fucking ticklish, and I never had any clue.
It makes sense why I didn’t, we were enemies after all, and that wasn’t exactly the kind of weakness you want your enemy to know. I don’t know if I would’ve used it against Snow if I had known, though. It was a rather intimate thing to do, and I had been in the business of touching him as little as possible unless it was a punch. Touching him could be quite painful, back when I was hopelessly in love with him.
It’s not quite so hopeless anymore.
I can hardly move fast enough in my excitement to know more. My hand instinctively goes for his wing, seeing as that’s what I’d been touching when I found out, but I stop just short of touching it. I’m not sure if touching it is still allowed.
Simon’s wing twitches into my touch. Based on the way Snow’s eyes go wide, I’d say that action wasn’t entirely under his control. Seems the wings have a bit of a mind of their own, or maybe they acted off of Snow’s subconscious impulses.
But I don’t care either way. Bunce could solve that mystery, she’s the one who likes to do that sort of thing.
All I care about is exploring this new world Snow’s opened up to me.
I trail my nails across Simon’s wing again and it twitches violently as he squeals again. I wiggle my nails with a little more purpose against the leathery skin and Simon breaks into actual giggles. A hand flies up to cover his mouth and I reach out and grab it with my free one, interlacing our fingers.
“None of that,” I say. “I want to hear you.”
“Baz!” Simon squeals, but I ignore him.
I decide that wiggling my fingers around aimlessly is going to get me nowhere. No, I need to seek out the real sensitive spots. I try to pull back the hand I’m holding Simon’s with, but he squeezes it tight in his grip. He’s probably realized what I plan to do with it. He always was good at sensing when I was plotting (though I suppose it’s not that hard when the answer is all the time).
It doesn’t matter though, because I can do what I want just as well with one hand. Simon doesn’t seem to realize he has a second hand fully capable of stopping me. It’s flailing around uselessly, and it’s disgustingly adorable.
Simon’s giggling gets louder and more frantic as I spider my nails up his wing, moving towards the base of it at his back. I can’t help the grin that comes to my lips, I just hope it doesn’t look as soppy and lovesick as I feel. Not that Simon would notice, his eyes are too scrunched up with laughter. His nose, too.
Once again: disgustingly adorable. It makes me sick.
Simon’s laughing deep from his belly, now, not just giggling anymore. It’s still getting worse the higher I go, so I don’t change directions. He actually wails in laughter when I get to the inside curve of his wing (it’s almost like an armpit, but for wings. Wingpit?), squirming so frantically that he collapses back into my chest. I can’t help but laugh with him.
I’ve heard Simon laugh before, but it’s gotten rarer and rarer as the years have passed. I haven’t heard it at all since the incident with the Mage and Ebb and the Humdrum, and it’s a refreshing sound. It’s like when you’re parched and you’re finally given a cold glass of water. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until hearing it again.
                              Simon
Baz’s fingers are driving me mad. The touch is so light and teasing, it’s making my skin crawl. There are goosebumps all up and down my arms, and they’re not from the cold. I wish he would move to a different spot, or make his touch firmer, or something. It’s torture. The best kind 
I can barely breathe through my laughter, with the new sweet spot he’s found, and my stomach aches with the force of it. It’s invigorating. I didn’t realize how long it had been since I laughed until Baz forced it out of me. Not that I really minded.
I feel like I’m flying.
He’s laughing with me now, too, and it only makes me laugh harder. It’s not his usual sneering, cocky laugh that he always used to give me back in school, back before our truce. It’s more like the laugh he gave me when he was drunk -- or drunk on my magic -- light and bubbly and a little bit rough, like it’s out of practice.
Maybe I should tickle him back sometime. Get it back into practice.
But that’s the last coherent thought that I’m able to have before Baz’s fingers find a sweet spot inside the sweet spot. I’m lost to my cackling, the only thing on my mind being Baz’s tickling fingers. I wonder if it’ll drive me mad.
                              Baz
Snow’s laugh used to make me want to throttle him. Or at least punch him. It was just another reminder of what I couldn’t have, what I would never be able to have. Because Snow was my enemy and he was dating Wellbelove and we were going to kill each other someday.
Now, his laugh just makes me want to kiss him. It did that before, too, but I always buried it beneath the urge to beat on him. I’m allowed to kiss, now, though, and so the urge to punch him is gone. 
I feel like I’m floating.
And I really want to kiss him.
But he’s probably bound to run out of air, and I think it might be a little difficult to kiss his open, laughing mouth (even as much as the idea of swallowing his laughter into my own lungs is enticing), so I pull away. Simon goes boneless against me, panting and giggling, his wing still twitching from my lingering phantom touch. They furl up protectively against his back, and I get the urge to kiss them, too.
Maybe later.
For the time being, I satisfy myself with pressing my lips against Simon’s own, now that his breath has somewhat returned. Simon wastes no time in kissing me back, still with far more finesse than I can manage. I’m learning, though, and I’m clearly making progress based on the heady little noises he makes into my mouth.
I don’t need alcohol to feel drunk, or even Simon’s former magic coursing through me. I could get intoxicated on Simon alone. Not that I’d ever let him know that, he’d use it against me every chance he’d get. And I’d let him.
We spend the rest of our evening kissing under the stars, long after the hood of the car has gone cold under us. Simon’s wings wrap around us like a blanket, warm and smooth, and we keep kissing. The stars twinkle above them, painting beautiful shadows across Simon’s face. I trace them with my lips.
I have to be back at Watford in the morning. Simon has to be back at the Bunce’s before they notice he snuck out with me (though I imagine Penelope herself likely already knows). The world outside the little bubble we’ve created here continues to turn round, but we don’t have to rejoin it just yet.
For now, it can just be Simon and me, and everything can be all right.
51 notes · View notes
the-greater-grief · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
A @snowbaz-sweethearts-exchange​ fic for @messofthejess​
Happy Valentine’s Day, Jess! (and everyone else, of course) Hope you enjoy this silly little fic about Simon’s first-ever trip to the dentist. 
Read it on AO3 || Header photo credit
~ ~ ~
​“My teeth hurt,” Simon announced over dinner. His lower jaw jutted out as he poked around his mouth with his tongue, searching for the source of the pain. “At least, I think it’s my teeth. Teeth have nerves in them, yeah?”
“What makes you think I know anything about teeth?” Baz asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “Last I checked, I was pursuing a degree in English literature, not dentistry.”
“Well, I just thought…” Simon stopped mid-sentence, catching himself before he could say something silly. “Er, never mind.”
“Go on,” Baz encouraged. “I’ll try not to laugh, I promise.”
“Prat,” Simon snorted. “Fine. I thought that maybe, since you have special teeth—”
“Fangs,” Baz supplied helpfully.
“That’s what I said. Anyway, I thought maybe you knew something about teeth because you’ve got extra ones.” Simon’s eyebrows drew together for a moment as he thought about Baz’s fangs. “Wait, do vampires have to see a special dentist?”
“Let’s go back to the bit about your teeth hurting,” Baz suggested, uninterested in discussing a promising career in supernatural dentistry. “Is it just one area that hurts, or your whole jaw?”
“Mostly here at the back,” Simon explained, his voice becoming distorted as he popped a finger into his mouth and started prodding at the sensitive area in the back. “Ow.”
“I’m legitimately afraid to ask, but when was the last time you flossed?” Baz wondered, watching his boyfriend’s oral spelunking attempts with a mixture of disgust and amusement.
“Dunno,” Simon shrugged, wiping his saliva-slick finger on a serviette. “When was the last time we ate corn on the cob?”
“You should be flossing daily,” Baz chastised gently. "It’s even more important than brushing, I’ve heard.”
“Huh. Hadn’t heard that one,” Simon hummed, returning to his meal, which he chewed with much more delicacy than usual. Baz figured he probably had a bit of meat or perhaps a popcorn kernel stuck between two molars, and that things would go back to normal for Simon in a day or so.
But they didn’t.
“I think you should make an appointment with your dentist,” Penny suggested when Simon brought it up again the following weekend while they were watching some shit film together in the sitting room of their flat. “They’ll be able to take x-rays and see whether you’ve got a cavity or something that’s causing the pain.”
“Isn’t that expensive?” Simon asked with a nervous chuckle. Baz and Penny just stared at him.
“You have been to a dentist before, right?” Baz questioned.
“Can’t remember,” Simon admitted. “I’ve never had anything wrong with my teeth before, so there was no point in going.”
“No point in—” Penny spluttered incredulously. “Simon, they clean your teeth! You’re supposed to go every six months!”
“I brush my teeth twice a day,” Simon insisted, crossing his arms defensively. “Why would I need them to do it for me?”
“If you’re asking that question, then you definitely haven’t been to a dentist,” Baz groaned, internally cursing the Mage for his uselessness as a guardian. “I’ll make you an appointment to see mine as soon as possible. Don’t worry about the cost. I’ve got coverage through work, and as my common-law partner, you’ll be covered as well.”
“Is that really necessary?” Simon asked with a sigh. “I don’t know how I feel about—”
“You’re going,” Baz insisted firmly. And that was the end of the discussion.
* * * * *
“Good afternoon, Simon,” greeted a woman in navy scrubs as she walked into the exam room and closed the door behind her. She smiled at Simon, who was seated in the reclining hydraulic chair. “And hello to you as well, Basil.” From his seat in the moral support chair in the corner, Baz glanced up from the months-old tabloid he was perusing to give the woman a quick wave.
“Hullo,” Simon replied, looking her up and down. She was a stout, plump woman in her mid-forties with kind, brown eyes — both professional and trustworthy, Simon decided immediately.
“My name is Dr. Anita Harding,” she continued, adjusting her cartoon tooth-patterned scrub cap before turning on the taps to wash her hands in the sink along the small room’s back counter. “I’m the primary dentist here, and I’ve come to discuss a few things with you.”
The hygienist had been in before her, and had performed Simon’s first-ever dental cleaning. She’d poked around his mouth with a pointy metal tool, used some sort of ‘ultrasonic’ machine to scrape tartar from the backs of his teeth, and to his great delight, he’d been able to hold the curved suction wand and use it whenever he wanted. His mouth tasted like bubblegum and mint, a surprisingly delicious combination that he’d been able to choose from a variety of fun flavours in which the dental office offered toothpaste and fluoride.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your teeth are in incredibly good shape for someone who’s gone nearly 20 years without a cleaning,” Dr. Harding exclaimed, smiling brilliantly at her newest client. Her teeth were straight and white, and Simon he wondered if she’d needed braces, or if her teeth had come in naturally perfect like Baz’s.
“Really?” Simon asked, his eyes widening in surprise. “Well, that’s good, yeah?”
“You only have one dental carie — that’s the technical term for an area of decay in a tooth,” she continued, pulling his x-rays from a slim file folder, “And I think I’ve found the source of your pain.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So you just fix the tooth, and then it won’t hurt anymore? That sounds easy enough.”
“Not quite,” Dr. Harding cautioned, switching on the light board attached to the wall and sliding the black film into place so that she could show them the images taken of Simon’s teeth. “If you’ll look here, Simon, you’ll see that you have some wisdom teeth coming in, on either side of your lower jaw.” She pointed to two angled teeth on the far sides of the elongated view of his teeth.
“They’re not meant to be all sideways like that?” Simon guessed, poking a finger against his cheek to see if he could feel a new tooth. (Definitely not; in retrospect, he realized it had been silly to even try.)
“Exactly. There isn’t room in your mouth for them to come in, so they’re growing in at an angle and putting pressure on the teeth in front of them,” the dentist explained, pointing at the X-ray and using her finger to show the direction of growth. She also indicated an area of shadowing on one tooth. “A dental carie has developed where your bottom left wisdom tooth is pressing against your molar, making it easy for bits of food to get trapped between them, and thus, the perfect environment for bacteria to thrive and eat away at the enamel of your tooth. It’s normal to have some sensitivity when wisdom teeth are coming in, but the severity of the tooth decay in your molar is what I believe to be causing you the most discomfort.”
“So, um, can you fix that?” Simon asked, chewing his lower lip. He knew that caries could be drilled out and filled in, but was clueless about the rest of it. Was he in for a long day at the dentist, he wondered, or would they need to schedule another appointment?
“The extraction of wisdom teeth is a relatively simple procedure conducted by an oral surgeon,” Dr. Harding assured him with a gentle smile.
“Surgeon?” Simon yelped, glancing frantically towards Baz, who hurried to his side and slid an arm around his shoulders, ignoring the awkward height difference created by the dental chair.
“Not to worry, darling,” Baz murmured, glaring daggers at the dentist over top of Simon’s head. “I know it sounds scary, but Dr. Harding will explain the process, and then you won’t be so nervous.”
Simon doubted that very much. Despite all the injuries he’d experienced over the years, despite being in countless battles with dangerous magickal creatures, he’d never had a surgery done, let alone been to a hospital. He’d seen them in films — blood spraying the doctor’s uniforms, shouts of “he’s coding!” There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be talked into lying on an operating table to have his teeth surgically removed.
“Can’t you just, you know, yank them out?” Simon questioned desperately, squeezing Baz’s hand hard enough to make his joints pop. “Shoot me up with some painkillers and have at it?”
“Unfortunately not,” the dentist said, pressing her lips together in sympathy. “But rest assured, I will refer you to the best oral surgeon in the city, Dr. Summers. She’s done hundreds, if not thousands of wisdom teeth extractions over the years, and her surgery has top-of-the-line equipment. We’ll get you scheduled in with her as soon as possible, and once you’ve healed up, we can get that decaying molar sorted, all right?”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Harding,” Baz said appreciatively, as Simon was neither grateful nor willing to thank the woman for her professional advice. “Dr. Summers removed my stepmother’s wisdom teeth, if I remember correctly, and Daphne was very pleased with the results.” He smiled down at Simon, his expression confident. “Your mouth will be feeling better in no time, love. I’m sure of it.”
* * * * *
Ignoring Simon’s vehement refusal to schedule his surgery with Dr. Summers’ office, Baz went ahead and set things up for the following week. Just enough time that Simon could prepare himself emotionally for the experience, Penny had suggested, but not enough that he could arrange to flee the country beforehand to avoid it.
In the meantime, his teeth started to hurt even worse, so that he couldn’t eat anything that required much chewing, or that was of an extreme temperature, which left out ice cream and soup. One day, he lived off store-bought jelly cups, porridge, and mashed potatoes. Another day, there was hardly a moment when the blender wasn’t blitzing up bits of fruit, yogurt, and juice for Simon’s smoothies. Penny banned him from any more smoothie days after complaints from the neighbours about the constant noise, and complaints from Baz about the bathroom always being occupied by Simon, who had to piss no fewer than 15 times after consuming so much liquid.
Simon was also maxing out the daily limit of paracetamol a person could take in an attempt to curb the pain in his mouth. He tossed and turned all night, jostling Baz awake every hour with his restlessness. Simon zombie’d his way through work each day, and in the evenings, sat around and moped, saying as few words as possible because it hurt to move his jaw. Although Baz and Penny felt bad for Simon’s predicament, his dour attitude was making everyone miserable. The date of the surgery couldn’t come soon enough, as far as they were concerned.
* * * * *
“I can’t do this,” Simon declared, staring up at the high-rise in which the oral surgeon’s practice was located. “I’ve dealt with worse pain than this on missions for the Mage. And so what if I’ve got a cavity in one tooth? That’s why I’ve got a whole mouthful of them.” He was speaking quickly and starting to ramble, both signs that his anxiety was getting the best of him.
“Darling,” Baz sighed, wrapping his arms around Simon’s middle and resting his chin on the man’s shoulder. “I know you’re nervous about this, but we’ve talked it all over many times now. You know exactly what’s going to happen up there. Like Dr. Harding says, this is a common procedure, and in the very unlikely event that you respond poorly to the anesthesia—”
“It’s not that,” Simon broke in, turning around to face Baz. “I’m not nervous that I’m going to bleed to death, or have an allergic reaction to the drugs. It’s just…”
“Just…?” Baz prompted gently.
“I hate being out of control,” Simon admitted, his gaze trained on the sidewalk beneath him. “The drugs they give me will mess with my head — I’ve seen all those videos of people acting loopy.” With a soft sigh, he leaned forward and rested his head in the crook of Baz’s neck. “What if I say something terrible, or go off on someone without meaning to?”
“Is that what you’re worried about?”
Setting his hands on Simon’s shoulders, Baz pushed him back far enough so that he could look into his lovely blue eyes. It was a rarity that Simon allowed himself to be vulnerable, to say what it was he was really thinking and feeling in his moments of distress, so Baz had to be cautious in his approach if he ever wanted Simon to open up to him again.
“Simon, I hear you saying that you’re afraid of how you might behave because of the meds they’ll use to sedate you during the surgery. I’ve seen those videos, too. But,” Baz opined sagely, “I think that those drugs just take away a person’s inhibitions — their filter, so to speak. It won’t make you a completely different person. You aren’t rude or violent regularly, so you won’t be that way after your surgery either. I think you’ll probably be even sappier than usual.”
“Are you sure?” Simon asked, his voice small.
“Positive,” Baz nodded, leaning closer so as to press a kiss to Simon’s warm forehead. When he pulled back, he devoted half a minute to fix his boyfriend’s mussed-up curls, which Simon had been yanking at the entire car ride from their flat to the surgery, despite Baz’s insistence that he was going to be bald by the time they arrived if he kept it up.
Simon glanced down at his watch — a practical (and stylish) Christmas gift from Daphne and Malcolm — to find that they had just a few minutes until they were due for his appointment.
“Well,” he said, exhaling a long, slow breath, “Suppose we’d best be on our way.”
“It wouldn’t do to be late,” Baz agreed. “There aren’t many things you dislike more than being late to an appointment.”
That did the trick. Simon rolled his broad shoulders back, huffed once, and marched towards the glass doors of the building. Baz followed behind him, doing his best to suppress a smile at how easy it was to convince Simon of something, if one just played the right cards.
They took the lift up to the 10th floor and checked in with the surgery’s receptionist before taking their seats, side-by-side, in the small waiting room. Baz started in on the book he had brought to entertain himself during Simon’s procedure, and Simon chewed on the cap of a biro as he filled out a package of medical questions and waivers for the surgery. After a few minutes, a cheerful nurse came out from a back room, collected the clipboard, and invited him through a door into what Baz guessed was the procedure room.
“Wish me luck,” Simon said, swallowing hard.
“You won’t need it,” Baz assured him. “Just breathe, alright?” Baz pulled him into a tight hug and gave him a brief peck to the lips before sending him off with the nurse, whose open-mouthed, heart-eyed expression gave Baz the impression that she was probably one of those people who congratulated same-sex couples on the street if she saw them holding hands. At least she wasn’t a bigot, he thought, silently hoping she would be able to assuage Simon’s fears in his absence.
Though he was nervous on Simon’s behalf, Baz took comfort in the knowledge that his boyfriend was one courageous fuck.
* * * * *
A little over an hour later, the nurse returned to the waiting room, this time to invite Baz through the mysterious white door that led somewhere back behind the reception desk. They passed several shelves full of alphabetized patient records in manila folders, a small room with a sink and toilet, and finally arrived in what the nurse explained was the “recovery area”. The place smelled of blood and antiseptic, the least delicious combination Baz could think of just then. It was a good thing he’d fed that morning, anticipating the possibility of exposure to blood. And the source of the blood, of course, was Simon, who was reclined in a cushy hydraulic chair in the centre of the room, his lower body covered with a scratchy-looking hospital blanket.
“How’d it go, love?” Baz asked as he approached, willing his fangs to stay tucked up in his gums where they belonged. Simon glanced up at the sound of his voice, and his eyes went wide with genuine excitement.
“Baz, it’s you!” He crowed, speaking far too loudly for an indoor environment. “Deb, this is my boyfriend. I told you about him, remember?”
“Yes, you certainly did,” the nurse said, pressing her lips together as she glanced towards Baz. His cheeks were flushed pink,
“Baz, they took my teeth!” Simon told him, his voice a bit muffled. “And look, blood!” Just then, Simon yanked a thick hunk of gauze (soaked in blood, of course) from within his mouth and dangled it towards his boyfriend. “Can you smell it, honey?”
“Crowley below,” Baz groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Simon, I think you’re meant to keep that in your mouth.” Based on the nurse’s insistence than she be allowed to tuck a fresh gauze pad into Simon’s cheek, he was correct on that front. She gingerly took the bloody one in a nitrile-gloved hand and deposited it in the nearest trash bin.
“Did you know, Deb,” Simon asked the nurse, “That Baz and I used to be roommates at school? Seven whole years, and I thought he hated me the whole time!” The nurse glanced between her patient and his chaperone with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell that story,” Baz said, taking Simon’s hand in his. “That’s alright, love. Let’s just hear what the nurse has to say about taking care of you now that you’ve had your surgery.” He had glimpsed an information package on a nearby rolling tray and guessed that an education session (with at least one person in their right mind) was on the nurse’s list of to-do’s.
“I kissed him! On Christmas Eve,” Simon barrelled on, ignoring Baz’s quiet protests. “Right on the lips, Deb, because I loved him.”
“That’s so sweet,” the nurse cooed, patting Simon’s right hand, in which an IV lock was still inserted. “Now, hold still for a moment while I take this out, okay?”
“Anything for you, Deb,” Simon told her, cocking his head slightly as he watched her press a ball of gauze against his skin. He tried to lift it up to get a look at what was underneath, but she shooed his curious fingers away to prevent any unnecessary bleeding.
Once the IV was dealt with, she devoted a few minutes to post-surgical education, giving Baz a lists of do’s and don’ts: no to alcohol, caffeine, smoking, and using straws, yes to soft foods, ice packs, and painkillers as prescribed. They were to watch for signs of infection or excessive bleeding, which Simon assured Deb with a wink that Baz would be an expert on.
“He’s a vampire, you know,” Simon whisper-shouted, holding a hand in front of his mouth as if it would prevent Baz from hearing him. Instead of panicking, though, Baz flashed a grin (sans fangs) at the nurse and winked, using Simon’s ridiculousness to his advantage. The nurse just laughed and handed over the education materials to Baz.
“You’re free to go, as long as Simon is able to walk,” she informed him. “No driving for the rest of the day or operating heavy machinery, and I’d suggest he load up on painkillers so that when the local anesthetic — the freezing in his mouth — wears off, it won’t be so bad.”
“Will do,” Baz nodded, thanking the nurse for her help. Once she had left the room, Baz grasped Simon’s hands and carefully hoisted him out of the chair, instructing his giggly boyfriend to walk a few steps but to stay within reach, just in case his balance was off.
“You're handsome, y’know that?” Simon slurred, trying to arch an eyebrow seductively, but utterly failing. “Always thought so, even at Watford. Thought you looked bloody fit in your football kit.”
“Oh really?” Baz wondered, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards ever so slightly. He drew Simon against his chest, being careful not to touch his face.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Simon nodded, smiling up at Baz as best he could with cheeks stuffed full of gauze. “Penny thought I was mad.”
“You were.”
“Mad for you,” Simon corrected, grasping at Baz’s pale face with one hand. Before Baz could pull away, Simon squished his cheeks together and gave him pouty fish lips, which sent him straight into another fit of giggles.
“All right, let’s get you home,” Baz said, tucking Simon beneath his arm. “You need to lie down and have a nap before you tell any more of our secrets to unsuspecting dental staff.”
Eventually, he managed to usher Simon out of the office and into the lift, where he proceeded to lurch forward and run his fingers over the buttons for every single floor in the building — all 26 of them — before Baz could stop him.
“Simon,” Baz groaned, drawing out the vowels in despair. “Did you really have to do that?”
“Did you bring any jelly?” Simon asked as though he hadn’t even heard Baz’s complaint. “I wanted to bring some, but Pen said I wasn’t allowed to eat ‘fore the surgery.”
“No, but you have about a hundred jelly cups waiting for you at home,” Baz informed him crossly as the elevator reached the eleventh floor, opened its doors to admit no passengers, and closed them again. “Which is too bad, because we’re going to die of old age waiting for this lift to reach the ground floor.”
“That’s okay,” Simon said, leaning against Baz’s chest and looking up at him with a dopey grin, their faces so close that Baz could probably count Simon’s freckles if he wanted to. “S’long as we’re together.”
33 notes · View notes
Text
this year i participated in the @snowbaz-sweethearts-exchange and got paired with the lovely @the-lincyclopedia​! <3 this is the second snowbaz-themed exchange I've done, and it was good fun ^_^ be sure to check out the other fics from the exchange, and to lin, I hope you enjoy this fic!
--------------------------------- Simon
Valentine’s with Baz number one: we had just defeated the Humdrum, but were still in the weird quasi-relationship stage, and he was at Watford, so Penny snuck me in and the three of us took turns jokingly reading from some terrible romance novel. Baz kissed me when Penny went to the bathroom. I think she did it on purpose so we would have the chance.
Valentine’s with Baz number two: I was deep in the throes of my depression, brought on by 1) no longer having magic, 2) feeling like the people closest to me (Penny and Baz) were far better than me, and 3) ditching therapy when it got hard because I was scared. I think Baz was almost surprised that I said “sure” to his suggestion of watching a rom-com. But I curled up on the couch with him, and later Penny joined us and we all decided the movie was terrible.
Valentine’s with Baz number three: today.
It had been less than a year since we had finally gotten rid of whatever the bloody hell else needed it (there was always something, wasn’t there?) and I had decided that this Valentine’s day things were going to be different. I had promised myself that.
More like I had promised Penny, who told me that I couldn’t just quit therapy, and then I had promised Baz, with lots of crying, that I was going to stop sucking (he cried too, and then asked me if was making a vampire joke, and I wasn’t but that set us both off into gales of laughter that ended in properly hugging for the first time in ages, i.e. not in a life-or-death situation.)
I had missed him.
I had also missed myself.
Which was why I was spending my morning, while Penny and Baz were both off at their respective colleges, being fancy and academic, making cherry scones. To be more specific: I was making heart-shaped cherry scones.
Cherry scones made me think of Watford, something that was getting easier to think about as time went on. For so long, Watford had been my favorite place, a happy place, and then all of that had been shattered. At least we were out of the woods now.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to make them as well as the kitchens at school, but I’d found a recipe online and gone to the store and everything. And I’d picked out a movie to watch that didn’t look terrible, and planned to get takeout from Baz’s favorite Thai place, and I’d convinced Penny and Shepard to find somewhere, anywhere else to be.
(I think they were going to one of those kitschy old-timey diners and then to a double feature at the movie theater. I hadn’t really paid attention.)
Everything was going to be perfect.  
There was no way it wouldn’t be.
***** Baz
The flat was far too quiet when I got back from classes.
If Simon was here (which I knew he was, he didn’t have work today), the television was usually blaring with whatever he was binge watching at the moment, and really there should have been a lot of noise, because Shepard and Penny were always here before me.
But no, there was just silence, and all of the lights were off except for one I could see coming from the kitchen.
I rounded the corner and took in the scene that lay before me. It looked sort of like a bomb had gone off in the room--flour everywhere, a mess of sugar on the stove, the oven half-open, and a tray of very burned scones on the counter.
The scones were also heart-shaped. Kind of.
“Simon?” I called out.
No answer.
“Snow,” I tried, hoping to get a rise out of him.
I walked around the kitchen island and there was Simon, sitting on the floor in front of the sink, his head buried in his hands. He was absolutely covered with flour.
“Simon? Love?” I crouched down next to him. “What’s wrong?”
He looked up at me, his gorgeous face tracked with tears. “I’ve ruined Valentine’s Day.”
“You--” I glanced around the kitchen. “This was for me?”
Simon nodded, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m--” a hiccup, “--Not that good at baking, as it turns out.”
“I can tell.”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because it sent another round of tears streaming down his face. I pulled him into my arms (my clothes were going to get covered in flour, too, but I couldn’t find it in me to care) and he pressed his face into my chest.
“I just wanted to make today perfect,” Simon said. “Since all of our other Valentine’s Days sucked, and things had been bad until recently--”
“Hey.” I cut him off, pulled back so that I could hold his face between my hands. “Don’t beat yourself up about that. There was a lot going on. You know what would make my Valentine’s Day perfect?”
“What?” Simon blinked at me, his eyelashes sparkling with tears.
“If I spent it with you. Which I’m going to do. We’re going to clean this up, okay? And then we’re going to find a terrible rom-com to pretend to watch and actually make out during.”
“And that would be okay with you?” Simon furrowed his brow. “That’s just a normal date night. I mess up the kitchen, we clean it up, we ‘watch’ a movie. It’s not special.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that anything’s special with you?” I rolled my eyes and stood up, offering my hands to Simon. “Now get up, before you make me any sappier.”
“Hmph.” Simon took my outstretched hands and let me pull him up. When we were both standing, I took him into my arms again, chest-to-chest. I couldn’t help it. Simon had always been so warm and good, and I had to admit to myself that him trying to do something special felt nice.
I kissed him, because I could, soft and slow, and then pulled away to see a small smile forming on his face. “What are you thinking about, Snow?” I asked, cocking one of my eyebrows up.
“Just how nice this is.”
“Gross.” But I kissed him again, brought one hand up to his cheek, because I wasn’t going to take this for granted, not after all we’d had to fight through to get here. I pressed my forehead against his. “I love you, Simon.”
“Love you too.”
I’m still going to die kissing Simon Snow. Just not today.
24 notes · View notes
angelsfalling16 · 3 years
Text
My (un)Bloody Valentine
My fic for @m-xdd-y for the @snowbaz-sweethearts-exchange. Thank you for being so patient even though I’m several days late. It was really nice to meet you and be paired up for this event! <3
I’m not sure a Valentine’s Day-themed murder mystery is quite what you meant when you asked for angst, but I hope you like this!
Read it on ao3
Summary: Bodies of Normals keep showing up at Watford, and Simon is sure he knows who is killing them. That is, until he finds his prime suspect kneeling beside the body, all the proof he needs, but finds himself wondering if maybe he had it wrong all along.
Word Count: 5481
Warning: I don't think this fic is too graphic, but there are mentions of blood and missing hearts, so please proceed with caution.
***
Part 1: The Suspect
Simon
“There’s been another one,” I say to the Mage.
“Another what?”
I growl because he apparently hasn’t been listening to me at all for the past five minutes.
“Another dead Normal.”
He waves me off as he flips through some papers on his desk. “Normals die all the time. What’s so special about these?”
“Their bodies were found in the Wavering Woods.” The magickal side of the woods. It doesn’t mean that it couldn’t have been a Normal who killed them, but it does make it less likely. “Someone is either killing them and dumping their bodies in the woods, or they’re wandering into the woods and someone—or something—is killing them.”
“They’re just Normals. Why do you care?” He doesn’t sound the least bit concerned by any of this. He actually sounds more annoyed than anything.
“They’re still people even if they don’t have magic. And they’re being found on school grounds. Doesn’t that make it your responsibility to do something about it?”
“Look, Simon. I have a lot going on. I don’t have time to deal with a couple of Normals who wandered into the woods and didn’t come back out.”
“There have been six of them so far. And they were all drained of their blood and missing their hearts.”
The Mage’s eyes widen slightly at that, but it’s the only sign that he has any feelings about this.
“We could move their bodies to the other side of the woods and let the Normal authorities deal with this.” I can’t believe he’s actually serious. Doesn’t he care at all?
“That doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. Shouldn’t we—?”
He slams a book down on his desk, cutting me off before finally looking up at me. His expression is harsh, and I can tell before he speaks that my efforts here are fruitless. He isn’t going to do anything about this.
“Enough, Simon. I have enough on my plate dealing with the Old Families. I do not have time to deal with some idiotic Normals on top of that.”
I glare at him for a long moment, searching for something to say, but it’s pointless, so I turn and walk out of his office. There’s no use fighting with him. He’s obviously not going to do anything about this.
That’s fine. I’ll figure it out on my own. I’m pretty sure I know who’s committing these gruesome murders anyway.
It’s the same person I’ve been suspicious of for years. I should have known that one day his evilness would turn into murder.
I’ve been watching him closely ever since the first body was found, and I’ve compiled a list of facts that prove that Baz is the one committing these murders.
Proof Baz is killing Normals and dumping their bodies in the Woods:
No. 1: He’s a vampire. It easily explains why all of the victims have been drained of their blood.
No. 2: He’s been staying out until all hours of the night recently, sometimes not coming back until just before sunrise.
No. 3: He’s been taking a shower almost every night when he returns, and he tracks in dirt everywhere, which he cleans up when he thinks I’m sleeping. He usually takes his showers in the mornings, which must mean he’s wanting to clean off something that can’t wait. Like blood. And all of the dirt serves as proof that he’s spending his nights out in the woods.
No. 4: He’s evil. He tried to take Phillipa’s voice in fifth year, and she had never done anything wrong to him. He definitely wouldn’t care about hurting some Normals he knows nothing about.
No. 5: He hasn’t been acting like himself. He seems more withdrawn and tired than usual, and when he sneers at me, it’s missing most of its usual venom. It’s like there’s something bothering him so much that he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. (Being a serial killer will do that to a person.)
All of this has me convinced that it’s him, but it isn’t enough to convince anyone else because I don’t have any actual physical proof. No one believes me. Not even Penny.
She does at least seem concerned about all of the dead Normals, but she doesn’t believe it’s Baz who’s killing them. I tried to convince her, but she thinks I’m “too blinded by my obsession with him to see things clearly”.
I told her that I’m only obsessed with stopping him, but she rolled her eyes at me and still refused to help me prove it’s him, so I’m on my own.
 Part 2: The Proof
Simon
This most recent body that was found has pushed me to work harder to find the person who did this because I was the one who discovered it. I knew that there were dead Normals in the Wavering Woods, but the details of their condition were kept a secret. So, when I stumbled across that body, almost literally stumbling on it, I couldn’t move.
The scene was gruesome. The body had been left lying half-hidden in some bushes, and there was a gaping wound in its chest where the person’s heart had once been. I wanted to scream out, but I couldn’t make a sound. I was too afraid that whoever had done this was nearby and would come after me if I did.
After that, though, I was determined to stop whoever it was, even if it meant putting myself in harm’s way.
It’s been a week since then, and I’m still not any closer to proving that Baz is the killer. I haven’t just been focusing on him—I’ve had other suspects—but he is still my prime suspect.
A body has been found every day since the first one was discovered, and it’s only a matter of time before one is found today, so I refuse to take my eyes off of Baz. I can’t let him kill another Normal.
He went to classes as usual, but at teatime, he heads straight for the woods. I wait a moment before following after.
I followed him into the woods a couple of nights ago, but I’m pretty sure he knew I was following him. He wove through the trees in circles, with no apparent direction, until I couldn’t catch my bearings. I was sure we were lost but after nearly two hours of that, he led us back out of the woods.
I don’t feel too great about the possibility of experiencing that again, but I would feel even worse if he killed someone and I didn’t try to stop him.
His pace is quick and purposeful as he makes his way through the woods. He seems so sure of his path that I wonder if he has already tied up a victim out here somewhere and is just now going back to take care of them.
A few feet ahead of me, he makes a quick turn into a thick patch of trees and bushes, and I pick up my pace to try to keep up with him. I turn where he did, but I don’t see him anywhere. I hurry forward, looking around for any sign of him, but everything is still and quiet. It creates an eerie feeling of both being all alone and being watched by a million pairs of eyes.
I slow my pace but keep moving towards where I think Baz went. I wander slowly through the trees, hoping to see or hear something that will help me find him.
As a couple of minutes pass and I still haven’t found anything, a lump forms in my throat, and my heartbeat quickens as I imagine all the awful things Baz could be doing right now to some poor sod.
I summon my sword and start thrashing it wildly about, clear the path in front of me so that I can push through the woods faster. I probably look like a complete madman, but I don’t care. I have to stop Baz before he hurts anyone else.
After what seems like forever, I slice through some low-hanging branches and step out into a small clearing. It’s only a few meters across, but the trees block out most of the light, which makes it difficult to see much.
At first, I don’t see anything, but as I take a few steps forward, two figures come into view on the opposite side of the clearing. I slowly move closer until the scene is clear. There is a limp body lying on the ground, a gaping hole the size of a fist in its chest, and someone is kneeling beside them. That someone is dreadfully familiar.
I gasp loudly, unable to stop myself, and Baz whips his head up towards me, his fangs bared.
I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I was right all along. Baz is the killer.
“I promise you this is not what it looks like,” he says, his words slurred because of his fangs.
“I don’t believe it,” I say, feeling queasy.
I was certain it was Baz but thinking it and seeing it are two completely different things.
I think there was a part of me that didn’t want to believe it was really him, didn’t want to believe he was capable of such horrific things, didn’t want to believe he really is a monster.
Being a vampire didn’t inherently make him a monster but this—these killings—are so much worse than being a vampire who feeds on wild creatures. It’s brutal and cold and unthinkable. I don’t understand how he could do it.
But here he is crouching over a fresh dead body, blood still pouring from the gaping hole in its chest, and the proof is irrefutable.
Baz did this.
He killed those Normals, and I have to stop him before he kills anymore.
“You killed them,” is all I can think to say.
“No. I didn’t. I know what this looks like, but you have to believe me, Simon. Please.”
He stands up, and I have to fight the urge to take a step back. I’ve never heard Baz plead with anyone before, so it’s strange that he’s doing it now.
Maybe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself out of trouble. But I won’t fall for it. I won’t let him get away with this.
I shake my head. “No. You did this. I know you did.”
“Are you sure?” He asks, and when I nod, he asks, “How sure are you? They will kill me for this if you turn me in, whether they have proof or not, so you should be absolutely certain before you run off and tell someone.”
He’s trying to trick me. I know it. I just… For some reason, I want to believe him. I guess I just don’t want to feel like this is my fault.
If only I had kept up with him, I could have prevented this from happening.
I shake my head again, hoping to clear away the doubt he has planted in my head before it can grow.
“You won’t fool me that easily. I know you did this.”
“Simon,” he says, and his voice is so soft and desperate that it steals my breath away. He rarely uses my first name, and he has definitely never said my name like that. “Look at me. Look at this scene. Really look at it. Do you honestly believe that I could do something like this?”
I take a deep breath and look at him then at the dead body and back again. I can’t stand to look at the scene before us for too long because it’s too gruesome, but I take a few long moments to study Baz.
His expression is hard, but there’s something vulnerable in his eyes, like he’s silently pleading with me to believe him.
It’s too much, and I have to look away, so I let my gaze fall down.
He’s still wearing his school uniform, same as me, but his somehow looks nicer. It never seems to wrinkle, and it doesn’t seem to have a spot of dirt on it even though he was just kneeling on the ground.
That’s what stops me.
If he had just killed that Normal, carved their heart from their chest, wouldn’t there be blood all over him? He could have cast a spell to clean himself up, but then, where’s the heart?
It’s not enough to wipe away my suspicions, but it is enough to make me doubt. Which I suppose was his plan, but it only means that I’ll have to keep an even closer eye on him tomorrow. I won’t let him hurt anyone else, but I also won’t turn him in until I know for sure he’s killing these people.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You believe me?” He almost sounds surprised.
“Not completely. But like you said, I need to be sure before I tell anyone. I’ll just have to get more proof.”
He nods once then says, “Alright,” before quietly adding, “thank you.” If I’m not mistaken, he looks relieved.
I only hope I haven’t just signed a death sentence for another Normal.
 Part 3: The Truth
Simon
I don’t get much sleep that night. Baz and I walked in silence back to the castle, and after we reported the body we found, he disappeared down to the Catacombs and didn’t return to our room for hours. I kept having to stop myself from going down there to keep an eye on him.
I get up bright and early the next day to make sure Baz doesn’t sneak off. It’s Saturday, so there aren’t any classes today, which means I should be able to keep my eye on him all day.
It’s Valentine’s Day, but I’m not sure how everyone can be so cheerful when these murders are taking place so close to our school.
If the victims were mages, I’m sure everyone would be scrambling. Parents would be picking up their kids; classes would be canceled; it would be a whole ordeal. But no one except me seems to be at all bothered by the murders. They haven’t even cordoned off the woods. It’s like they don’t even care for anyone’s safety.
The only person besides me who doesn’t seem in a cheerful mood is Baz, who seems to be moodily stomping his way all over the school.
I manage to keep my eye on him all morning and through lunch, but eventually I have to use the loo.
“Will you watch Baz for me for a minute?” I ask Penny.
“Why?” She asks, already looking annoyed at the mere mention of him.
“I want to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone while I’m gone.”
She rolls her eyes at me but says, “fine. But all I’ll do is watch. I’m not interfering in this.”
I smile gratefully at here and hurry to the loo. When I return, I don’t see Baz anywhere.
“Where’s Baz?” I ask Penny, an edge of panic worming its way into my voice.
“He left a minute ago,” she says matter-of-factly.
“What? Where did he go?”
“I think he was headed towards the woods.”
“And you didn’t try to stop him? Or go after him?”
She sighs. “Simon, this is ridiculous. Baz is not a murderer. You need to face the truth.”
“I have faced the truth. Baz has killed thirteen Normals, and it’s only a matter of time before he kills another.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant the truth about why you’re really obsessed with him.”
I frown. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She nods solemnly. “I know, and I’m only saying this because you’re my friend.” She pauses briefly before saying, “You’re oblivious. You are completely oblivious to your feelings for him.”
“I am completely aware of how much I hate him,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes. She does that often. “It’s more than that. You like him, and I think that if you really took the time to think about it, you’d see what I mean.
I want to stay and argue with her about this, but I have to go after Baz.
“I don’t have time for this,” I say. “I have to go after him.”
She shakes her head but doesn’t try to stop me when I turn to leave.
I take off towards the Wavering Woods, running as fast as I can and hoping it’s fast enough. I don’t even stop to consider the possibility that he might have gone elsewhere. I know he didn’t.
I have my sword drawn before I pass through the tree line. I keep running, blindly making my way through the woods. My movements are too loud for me to hear anything, but I can’t risk slowing down.
I have to keep moving. I have to keep running.
I have to stop Baz before he hurts anyone else.
I run for a long time, pushing harder and harder, until I trip on something, probably a tree root. I reach out to catch myself, scratching my hands on branches as I manage to stumble forward a few more steps before falling on my knees, hard.
I give myself a few moments to catch my breath before pushing myself to my feet.
That’s when I realize that I’ve made it to yet another clearing, bigger than the one yesterday and not quite as dark.
I take a few steps forward and find a scene similar to the one from yesterday. There’s a figure lying on the ground and something crouching over it. But it isn’t Baz.
This thing has wings and appears to be floating above the body with what appears to be an arrow poised over the figure’s chest.
I take a few more quiet steps forward, and that’s when I see who the figure is on the ground.
“Baz,” I whisper, barely audible.
The creature moves its arrow lower, and I cry out.
“NO!” I scream, and startled, the creature backs off and turns to me, hissing and spitting.
I freeze when I see its eyes. They’re bright red and glowing, and all of his teeth are sharp and pointed. What the hell is that thing?
It looks back down at Baz, and I cry out again.
“Leave him alone!” I shout, and somehow, my words are imbued with magic.
The creature hisses at me again, but as if he’s being pushed by something, he glides backward before turning and flying off into the woods.
I release a breath and realize that I’m shaking. I stay frozen to the spot for a long moment until I hear Baz take a gasping breath.
I rush to his side and sink to the ground beside him.
His shirt has been ripped open to reveal his chest, and there’s a button hanging from it by a thread. He’s pale, paler than I’ve ever seen him, and he doesn’t look well.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
How could I be so foolish? How could I honestly believe that he was killing people? If only, I had believed him.
“It’s not your fault,” he coughs.
“You’re so pale…” He’s more like an ashen grey. All of the color seems to have faded from him.
“Perks of being a vampire,” he says with a forced laugh, finally admitting it to me. Hearing him finally say those word aloud doesn’t make feels as victorious as I used to think it would, though.
“What did he do to you?” I ask, looking for a wound but finding none.
“Drank my blood. What little I had in me anyway.” He says it flippantly, like it’s no big deal, but it is a big deal. If he weren’t a vampire, he’d be dead right now.
He’s still dying, though. He can only go so long without blood. I have to do something. I have to help him somehow.
I think for a moment before the answer comes to me.
“Drink my blood,” I tell him.
He shakes his head violently. “No. I won’t drink human blood.”
“I won’t let you die.”
“I’ll go to the Catacombs. Drain some rats.”
“You won’t make it there in time.” Tears well in my eyes at the truth of this statement. I don’t want Baz to die. I have to save him.
“I can’t drink your blood, Simon.”
“Yes. You can.”
I pull him up into a sitting position and press his face into my neck.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It will all be okay.”
I feel his hesitation even as he nuzzles his face into my neck—he doesn’t want to do this, but he doesn’t have a choice. Then, there’s a sharp pain as he sinks his fangs into the side of my neck, and I gasp.
The initial bite is incredibly painful, and my instinct is to push him off, but I just grip onto his arms instead. And after a moment, his bite starts to feel good. Really good. It’s like as he takes my blood, he’s giving me something else in return, something warm and pleasant.
My eyes fall shut, and my mind goes blank. All there is is me and Baz and this pleasant feeling.
But then suddenly the feeling is gone, and reality comes crashing back down around me.
Baz shoves me away, and I don’t even try to fight him as I land on my back in the dirt.
The world spins around me as I struggle to catch my breath.
I’m still breathing hard, but after a couple of minutes I manage to sit up and look at Baz. He looks a little better now. Color is returning to his cheeks at least.
“That was…” I begin, grasping for a way to describe that experience.
“Awful,” Baz finishes, rubbing his hands down his face.
I frown, wrinkling my brows at him. That’s not how I would have described that.
“Are you okay?” I ask tentatively.
“No. Yes. No.” He shakes his head then tries again. “I’m not thirsty anymore, but I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you let me do that.” He won’t look me in the eyes. He just keeps staring at the ground.
“I couldn’t watch you die.”
He shakes his head at me. “Why not?”
I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t know how to explain it him. I can’t even explain it to myself.
“I just couldn’t,” I say, then I push myself to my feet.
“Where are you going?” He asks, finally looking at me.
“After it.”
“You can’t,” he says, attempting to push himself off the ground, but he isn’t strong enough yet.
“I have to.”
“Snow,” Baz rasps, his lips stained red with my blood, but I shake my head.
“I’ll find it. I’ll find whatever did this to you.”
“Simon, no. You’ll get yourself killed.”
I just shrug in response. I always knew I would go out fighting.
I turn towards the trees that the creature disappeared into and make my way to them, feeling woozy and a little unsteady on my feet.
Baz calls my name, but I ignore him and take off running once again.
I try not to think about why I’m so determined to get revenge for Baz. I mean, yes, I want to stop this creature, but I also want to get back at it for hurting Baz.
You like him. Penny’s words ring loud in my mind, but I shake them away.
I can’t think about that right now. I have bigger things to worrying about. Like stopping that creature before it can hurt anyone else.
 Part 4: The Final Victim
Baz
I have to go after Simon. He’s going to get himself killed.
I can feel Simon's blood coursing through my body. It makes me feel sick to think about what I just did, but it also makes me feel better physically, better than drinking blood has ever made me feel.
I don't like the implications of that.
I don't care how good drinking his blood makes me feel, I can never drink human blood again. I almost couldn’t stop, and Simon was too dazed to stop me. I can’t risk taking too much from someone. I would never forgive myself.
This one time will be worth it, though, if it means I'm fast enough to save Simon.
I finally manage to push myself to my feet, and after a brief moment of dizziness, I take off running faster than I've ever run before.
I can just barely catch a trace of Simon's scent, that familiar smoky-sweet scent that could only come from him. I keep shoving through branches until his scent becomes stronger. I'm getting close. I push myself to run faster. I have to get to him. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into.
This creature can't be killed by Simon simply going off or swinging his sword at it. There's only one way to kill a creature like this, and it's even harder to do than I thought.
I've been researching this thing since the first body was found.
My aunt used to tell me the Legend of a winged creature that came out every 14 years, killing one person everyday starting on the first of February and killing its final victim on Valentine's Day.
I used to think it was just a story, but as soon as I heard how the Normals were being killed, I knew it was more than a story. And I knew I had to stop it.
I've been hunting it even as Simon was so obviously hunting me. Of course I knew he suspected me. He's not very stealthy. I mean, he handwrote a list of reasons I'm the killer and left it on his desk for anyone to see.
I thought for sure he was going to turn me in yesterday even after he said he wouldn't. But somehow, I just barely managed to convince him. And then it was just my luck to become the creature's final victim today.
The creature doesn't only go after Normals -- I think they're just easier prey. It targets people who are single, people who won't be missed by a significant other. I fit the profile perfectly, but I think the real reason it targeted me was because I saw it yesterday. I wasn’t able to stop it, but I got close.
I was to be its final victim until Simon stopped it, which is why Simon is in so much danger. He's going after it, running right into danger like he always does, not caring a bit whether he lives or dies. He’s so stupid, but I have to help him.
His scent becomes overwhelming, and I know I'm close. I push through some more branches and find Simon fighting the creature in the trees.
He swings his sword at it, striking it on the arm, but the creature barely flinches.
"Simon!” I shout. “That won’t work. You have to get its arrow."
"What?"
I realize my mistake too late when Simon turns to look at me, leaving himself open to an attack.
The creature rushes at him and knocks him off his feet. Then, it’s on him, ripping at his clothes, trying to get at his heart.
I race towards the creature, drawing my wand. Magic won't do much against it, but it might slow it down.
I cast a spell, sending flames towards the creature’s wings. It cries out in pain but doesn't move away from Simon, who is reaching for his sword which lies just out of reach. I run at the creature, knocking him off Simon, but it easily overpowers me, once again pointing its arrow at my chest. It bares its sharp teeth at me, and I decide not to fight it. At least if it kills me, Simon will be safe.
 Simon
Baz knocks the thing off of me, but then he stops fighting. It's like he's given up, and I don’t understand why. I start to reach for my sword, but then I remember what Baz said. Get its arrow.
I lunge at the creature, landing on its back, and reach for the arrow. It attempts to shake me off, but when I see a speck of blood on Baz's chest, it’s like something snaps inside of me. I grip onto it and reach harder for the arrow. I won’t let it hurt Baz.
I manage to grab hold of the arrow and viciously rip it from the creature's grasp.
"Kill it!" Baz shouts.
I don't hesitate before plunging the arrow into the creature's chest. It bucks again, and I let go, letting myself slide off of it as black liquid oozes out of its chest. It yanks at the arrow, trying to pull it free, but it's too late.
The creature crumples to the ground in a lifeless pile.
I'm breathing hard as I step around it and help pull Baz to his feet.
As soon as he’s standing, though, he shoves me.
"You idiot!"
 Baz
"You idiot." I repeat, shoving Simon in the chest again. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"
"I had it handled." He shrugs.
"You had no idea what you were going into. If I hadn't found you..." I trail off, not wanting to think about what might have happened if I hadn't gotten to him in time.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I—." I cut myself off.
"You...what?" Simon asks, and there's a strange expression on his face, one I’ve never seen on him before. It’s almost like he’s hoping I’ll say something.
"Because I care about you, okay?" I sigh, finally saying aloud what I’ve never been able to before.
I expect him to laugh and ridicule me for it, but he just stares silently.
I give him another moment before shaking my head and turning away. I can’t believe I just said that aloud. I can’t believe I said it, and I can’t believe Simon didn't react at all. At least if he'd laughed or hit me, I'd know where we stand.
I should head back to school. I'll report what happened here and then I'll try to forget how foolish it was to say that.
I take a few steps away from Simon, prepared to start running once I'm sure I’m going the right way, but stop when I feel his hand on my wrist.
"Wait." His voice is quiet.
"What do you want?" I ask.
"I care about you, too."
I turn to face him slowly, wondering if now is the point when he starts laughing, like this is all just some big joke. But he looks serious. And maybe even...nervous?
He stares at the ground, but his voice is louder and surer when he speaks again.
"I really care about you Baz."
I suck in my breath. This has to be a joke.
He tilts his head up and slowly meets my eyes like he’s afraid of what I’ll do.
I'm not sure what to say. I like him, and I want for him to be telling the truth, but how can I know for sure?
I search for something to say, and he steps closer to me.
His hand moves from my wrist up to my face, where he brushes a strand of hair out of my face and lets it linger there.
"I like you," he whispers, like it’s a secret only meant for me to hear.
"I like you, too," I whisper back without hesitating.
Then, Simon is moving closer to me, and I'm tilting my face down towards his, but he stops just short of our lips meeting.
"Can I kiss you?"
I marvel at the question because it's ridiculous that he even had to ask, but I also love him for it because he wanted to make sure it was okay.
"Yes," I reply, and the word is barely out of my mouth before he's kissing me.
I kiss him back gently, placing my hands on his hips to hold him there.
We kiss for long moments until we have to part to catch our breaths.
He takes a step back but he’s smiling up at me.
"Will you be my Valentine?" He asks after a moment.
I chuckle lightly. "Seriously?"
He shrugs. "Yeah."
I smile at him, my chest filling with warmth. "Sure, Simon." I nod. "Yes. I'll be your Valentine."
His face splits into a grin, and he reaches out to intertwine his fingers with mine.
I don’t think I've ever seen this expression on him, and it's hard to believe that it's because of me.
I feel my own smile widen, and I lean forward to kiss him softly.
This is the strangest - and maybe even nicest - Valentine's Day ever.
20 notes · View notes
writeblrfantasy · 3 years
Text
as promised, here is some snowbaz fanfic (k words) this was a birthday gift for my best friend last year, who has a ferret which i became intimately familiar with over phone calls. this actually holds up, or so I think? anyway, enjoy!
snow's new ferret
This was all Baz’s bloody fault.
“Let’s go walking round London,” Baz had said, because it was Saturday, and neither of them had homework, and he was trying to be romantic and spend some quality time with Snow for once. “We might even find a place with sour cherry scones."
“None as good as Watford's,” Snow had said, but grinned and hurried to pull his shoes on, tripping over his own feet.
Look where romance got him, because now Baz was hovering behind Simon in a pet store of all places while he excitedly chatted on the phone to Bunce. Both of them were squeaking and squealing over the small brown ferret in Snow’s hand. Bunce sounded like she’d have given anything to see it.
“Ooh, Penny, can we keep him?” Snow asked for the millionth time. Baz rolled his eyes.
“Yes, yes, of course! I’ll…” Bunce’s voice faded out as Baz stared the ferret down. Its beady little black eyes, eyes of a demon. It was creepy, but also strangely cute.
Baz glared at it, but its gaze never wavered.
Before he knew it, Snow was off the phone and smiling at him. “We’re getting it,” he said stupidly.
“Yes, I have ears, Snow,” Baz retorted, but Snow was already wandering off to the pet shop owner.
***
“Cherry Scone?” Baz demanded. “You named it Cherry Scone?”
“She, not it, Baz,” Snow said instinctually. He was too distracted by the ferret cradled in his hands. It already had a full cage set up in Simon’s room, decorated with stickers and beads. It was gaudy, in Baz’s opinion, and entirely unnecessary.
But Simon grinned and lit up looking at it, so Baz was okay with it, he supposed.
That was until the fateful Wednesday evening.
Baz had just gotten through a tiring day of classes, and all he wanted was a drink, some food, and to kiss his boyfriend.
A blood bag and leftover pizza was guaranteed to be in Simon’s fridge, but he didn’t get his usual hello kiss by the door. Instead, the Simon opening the door was distracted and fretting.
He was moving away before Baz could even lean in. “What’s wrong?” Baz asked, setting his bag down on the couch.
“Cherry Scone’s disappeared,” Snow said, looking under the blanket on the couch, carelessly moving Baz’s bag away to look there. “Can’t find her anywhere.”
“Don’t you and Bunce have schedules for watching it?”
“Her, not it, Baz,” Simon muttered, shaking his curls out of his eyes to search under the couch. “And yes, but Penny’s out tonight.”
“Out? Where?”
“New bloke she met on flinder.” Snow checked under the tv stand, behind the tv itself, then disappeared into Bunce’s room.
“I sincerely hope you mean Tinder.” Baz went into the kitchen to get said blood bag and pizza. After a drink and a bite, Snow still wasn’t out, so Baz followed to check. He found Simon on her bed, head in his hands.
“Snow? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find her anywhere.” Snow’s voice wavered, like he was actually crying. Baz’s heart ached. “She was just running around in my room, and me and Penny let her run round the flat after always checking the doors and windows are closed… I don’t know where she’s gone, Baz, she’s supposed to be in her cage by now, what if she-”
“Hey, hey, don’t go there. We’ll find her. We will. Come here.” Baz went to hold Simon close, and though he felt shame at feeling this way, there was nothing quite like the warmth of holding Simon in his arms.
Simon relaxed for a moment before tensing up again. “Can you help look? I know you’re not the most fond of her, but…” With the way Simon was looking at him, blue eyes wide and sad, how could Baz ever say no?
“Of course, Simon, of course.” Baz reluctantly let go and got up, leading the way into Simon’s room. He made a beeline for the cage, where, just like he’d guessed, Cherry Scone was safely sitting, the door still open. She stared up at him with those beady black eyes. Baz stared back, hesitantly lifting her out, at a distance in case she’d bite. She didn’t, but she did stare at him while he carried her to Simon.
“Was in her cage,” Baz said, handing her to him. Simon’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas.
“Oh, Baz, thank you!” He leaned forward and gave Baz the heated but chaste kiss he’d first wanted. Baz’s lips tingled, and he hoped for another one, he hoped Snow would put the ferret back in her cage and leave her there. Baz allowed himself to dream about a good snogging session on the couch, maybe with the pizza box open on the coffee table and the tv playing something insignificant in the background…
But Snow was already taking the damn thing to the living room, talking sweetly to her, promising some treats.
Over Snow’s shoulder, she watched Baz until Snow disappeared around the corner.
***
Normally, walks to the park were just that. Walks to the park.
They were often romantic. Baz and Snow had had more than one picnic date there, even with all the ants and bees. To see Snow, disaster that he was, get biscuit crumbs all over himself and still grin about it was more than enough.
Besides, there were a fair amount of plump birds in the park for Baz.
But of course, Baz should’ve known better than to think this park date would be like every other.
“I still can’t believe they make bloody leashes for those things.” Baz shook his head. Snow grinned, eyes sparkling as he looked down at the ferret, scuttling along on the ground.
You used to look at me that way, Baz thought, then berated himself for being so pathetic. At least Snow was still holding his hand and brushing shoulders with him, walking slowly and leisurely like they used to, and maybe if Baz turned his head he could steal a-
“Hey!” The warmth of Snow’s hand left his, and Baz opened his eyes from his daydream to watch Snow running after the ferret. She’d escaped his hold on the leash. Of course. It was bound to happen.
“Baz, c’mon, help!”
With a sigh of resignation, Baz jogged after him.
***
Baz should’ve known the words, “Love, could you watch Cherry Scone for the day? Penny’s visiting family and I have class, and you don’t, so…” would never end well.
But Simon had called him love, and he’d been looking at Baz with love in his eyes as he said it, and however could Baz resist that?
Now, he realized he probably should’ve tried much, much harder. He should’ve floundered up an excuse or something, “Oh, I need to go get kidnapped by numpties again, be back tomorrow, don’t forget to tell Fiona,” because this was utterly ridiculous.
How could Snow ever love something so determined to make life miserable? Baz’s mind helpfully placed himself in that spot, but he shoved the thought away, because Simon’s beloved ferret was currently terrorizing the kitchen.
“If you wind up in the actual cherry scones, I don’t think even Snow would forgive you,” Baz told it, reaching out and unsuccessfully grabbing it. It scrambled along the kitchen counter, jumping, looking like it was trying to climb the fridge. Baz cupped his hands and tried again, but it jumped, scratching him in the process. Baz swore.
“You really are a devil, aren’t you?” Baz snapped, running his finger under the tap. Where had the bloody thing gone?
A mighty clatter rang through the kitchen. Baz slowly turned around, dreading what he’d find.
The ferret had gotten into the jam jar. No, more like it had knocked the jam jar off the top of the fridge and landed next to the remains.
Baz swore again and bent to check it. It was fine, just covered in red, and the broken glass was far away. Thank god Simon wasn’t here; Baz shuddered at the thought of all that worrying. Though if it meant pulling Simon into his arms to console him…
“I have half a mind to just leave you here,” Baz said to it, grumbling as he picked it up. He took it to the bathroom, because Simon had told him it needed a bath sometime that day, so he wouldn’t question it. “But I love him too much for that.” He placed it in the bath, turning on the water. “If you make him happy, so be it. I can live with you.”
***
Yeah, that wasn’t going to last.
Baz was simply sick of it. The bloody ferret had all of Simon’s attention, and nearly all of his heart. At least, Baz hoped there was still space there reserved for him.
Either way, she was putting Baz out of a job. Whenever Simon got anxious or sad now, he’d hug the ferret instead of reaching out to Baz. She was always in his lap, always being fed treats while he stroked her fur, always looking up at Baz with those evil eyes.
Baz was tired of it all. He was practically invisible to Simon now, and Simon would just nod and make noises whenever Baz talked, told him about his day. As if he didn’t think Baz would notice.
Bunce found it all hilarious. Simon was oblivious as usual.
As annoying and humorous as it was that Simon had chosen a bloody ferret over Baz, in some ways it did genuinely hurt. He hated to feel that way, but he hated more that the only kisses he got from Simon these days were when he did something for the ferret.
It was all building up to one fateful evening at Snow’s flat. Penny was on another date with that bloke from Tinder--Baz couldn’t even remember his name, but Bunce seemed to like him well enough, and Simon apparently approved. Baz would still need to meet him, give him an effective talk, before he had his approval as well. Bunce deserved only the best.
It was the same old situation. Baz had memorized this dance they did. Knock, Snow opens the door, distractedly says hi, because the ferret is in his arms, wriggling to get away. He puts it over his shoulder with one hand on its back, Baz comes in, Snow shuts the door. Snow walks over to the couch with the ferret, Baz goes to the kitchen--except tonight he doesn’t.
Baz instead followed Snow to the couch, ignoring the surprised eyebrow raise Simon gives him. They were going to have this conversation like mature, civilized adults. Baz would explain what was bothering him, hope Simon would make a change, and that would be that.
“Baz? What’s wrong?” Simon asked, and it hurt that that was more attention than Simon usually paid him these days.
“Nothing, I--”
Damn his default deflections. “Actually, something. I- ever since you got the- the ferret, I can’t but feel like, I, uh…”
After a pause that was definitely too long, Simon gently prodded, “What?”
It didn’t help that he was still absently stroking its back. “That you pay more attention to it than me,” Baz blurted. His cheeks immediately bloomed red. “I--just--you don’t smile at me as much as you used to, you’re always tending to it--her, you only kiss me when I feed it or watch it for you or find it when it gets lost--”
“Baz--”
“You know what, it’s fine, forget I said anything, Snow, I--”
“Baz--”
“Really, I’m good--”
“Baz!”
Baz finally dared to look up. Simon's face was pinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. Penny did warn me, but I didn’t think it would…I don’t want to choose between the two of you,” Simon said softly, his eyes gentle and caring when he looked at Baz and goddammit Baz do not cry--
“Well you have been,” Baz snapped, because if he can’t cry, he’ll be angry. He felt himself go red, angry and defensive and hurt, and he cursed himself for drinking before this.
“I’m sorry,” Simon said again, shifting the ferret on his lap, and even that hurt Baz a little bit. “What would you like me to do?”
Baz floundered. He hadn’t honestly, expected to get this far. “Uh, make some time, like when I’m over, where you put the ferret away? It has to sleep sometime, surely.”
“Yeah, at night.”
“Well…can you put it in its cage when I’m here?”
After a breathless second, Simon smiled- at him this time, not the ferret- and said, “Yes.” He looked down at his lap one more time, smiling, and this time it didn’t hurt at all. Simon loved them both, and Baz knew that now for sure, even if he had always known it.
“Would you like to pet her before I put her away?” Simon asked, and Baz realized that he’d never really felt it. Yes, he’d picked it up to give it a bath and help it out of the jam mess--something he had still not told Simon about--but he hadn’t taken notice of the texture of its fur. He was usually too annoyed at it for that.
“Yeah, fine.” Baz scooted closer to Simon on the couch, feeling heat radiate off him, and as much as he wanted to just forget about the ferret and be close to his boyfriend, this would make Simon happy.
So he pet it. It looked up at him, quite distrusting, but slowly warming to him. At least tolerating him. “It’s--it’s quite soft.”
“She is.” Simon grinned, then finally, bless, got up to put her away.
The minute waiting for Simon to come back was the most agonizing of Baz’s life, like this was their first kiss and not their 1000th. Finally Simon sat back down, smiling, and leaned over, taking Baz’s hot cheeks in his hands to give him a long, sweet kiss. It left Baz’s insides warm, his lips burning, and all he wanted was more, more, more--
And Simon let him have more, he gave as good as he got, pushing closer to Baz, letting Baz lick into his mouth, giving one last long kiss before pulling away.
Baz was breathless. Simon was golden.
“Thank you,” Baz said, surprised to hear his own voice so low, panting the way he was. Simon smiled, his sun, his golden boy, and kissed Baz again.
Forget about bloody ferrets for now.
9 notes · View notes
viktorrotkiv · 3 years
Text
Trust Me
This fic was written for the @snowbaz-sweethearts-exchange as a gift for @seducing-a-vampire , and beta-read by @stevenuniversestolemyheart ​ (<3).
Read on AO3
*
Simon was being weird again. Avoiding him. Being evasive and distant.
Baz has been through this once before, and he really doesn’t want to do it again. This game of avoiding one another, almost-talking about feelings, trying to keep hold of a sinking ship. They survived the last time, but just barely. Baz thinks maybe he didn’t do enough then, because it feels like they survived on pure chance. Luck of the draw. Fate had tested their relationship, pushed it almost to the breaking point, then got bored and gave up, and they bounced back. Slightly broken, and a little less idealistic, but realer, and stronger. Different.
Baz couldn’t stand change. He had had enough ‘different’ for a lifetime. This time, the ship won’t even start to sink, because he’s going to stop it.
He’s going to prove to Simon Snow that he’s the best boyfriend around.
*
At first, Simon was worried about Baz’s birthday. He wanted to make sure it was perfect and special. After everything they’d been through, Baz deserved some happiness and peace. But the moment he thought of his brilliant idea, he relaxed completely. He sunk fully into planning and organizing, devoting hours and days to it, but he wasn’t worried anymore. He was confident.
The grand plan was this; on the morning of February 24th, Simon would show up at Baz’s parents’ house, where Baz was staying for a few weeks. They would have breakfast with Baz’s family, after which, everyone, including Simon, would give Baz his gifts. Simon’s gift will be a pair of jeans, reminiscent of Simon’s first visit to Baz’s house, and a hand-made gift card, entitling Baz to “give Simon Snow a makeover of your choice, including, but not limited to, hair, clothes, and manners.” Baz will laugh and immediately change into the jeans (this was, of course, a crucial part of the plan). They’ll spend the morning with Baz’s family (and maybe some of it in Baz’s room, decidedly away from his family), and then Simon will noncommittally suggest lunch with a few friends. Baz could either accept or decline; this was important in order to make it seem like the day wasn’t orchestrated. In the afternoon they had tickets to see an exhibition at a Normal museum that Baz was buzzed about; this part he was aware of. On the way back from the museum, Simon would suggest walking through a park, where, lo and behold, all of Baz’s friends and family would be waiting with balloons and home-cooked food and cake.
The only problem was that Simon was terrible at keeping secrets, and worse at lying. There was only one solution: he would have to try and avoid Baz for the next few weeks.
February 1st
Mordelia was going to be the death of him. Last night there had been one acceptable clean pair of trousers in his closet. He was sure of it, because he had checked specifically, because he knew that most of his clothes were in the laundry. And now, as he was getting dressed to meet Simon, it was gone. The only things he could find were old trousers that didn’t really fit anymore, and a few pairs of pyjamas.
“Mordelia!” Baz slammed the closet door shut and stormed out of his room. “What did you do with my clothes?! Good morning, Daphne. Mordelia, I’m going to hex you!”
“What?” His little sister peaked innocently out of her room, seemingly trying to shut the door on herself.
“You know what you did. Where are my trousers?”
“Oh, these?” Mordelia bent down and picked something up from the floor behind her.
“Yes, these!” Baz snatched them away angrily. “What on earth did you need them for?”
“Nothing.” She shied away from his inquisitive gaze. “I was, er – I was playing dress up.”
Baz huffed and sighed, but walked away. He didn’t have time for this. The ‘perfect boyfriend’ that he was trying to be was never late. But seriously, who on earth thought that moving back home while he looked for a flat near Simon and Penny was a good idea? Oh, right. All of his friends. His parents too. His siblings were happy to have him. And he wasn’t paying rent.
*
Simon’s secret phone beeped with a message. Yes, he had gotten burner phones for the Top Secret Baz’s Birthday Surprise operation. Growing up in a Normal orphanage had left its marks, and a love for trashy spy movies was one of them.
The message was from Mordelia, one of his many accomplices, and it contained Baz’s trouser size.
Also, he’s mad at me now. Can you tell him it wasn’t my fault that I had to take his trousers?
You’re brilliant, Simon wrote back. And no! You mustn't tell him either, remember?
Will you buy me sweets?
Only if it makes you shut up and promise not to tell Baz
Alright :)
Fine. Simon saw Baz through the window of the coffee shop and quickly put the phone away. As Baz entered the shop, holding a bouquet of flowers, Simon stood up to wave him over. When he reached the table, Baz gave Simon a quick kiss on the cheek, and held out the bouquet.
Simon accepted the flowers and brought them to his nose to cover his embarrassingly big grin. They didn’t usually kiss in public; Baz was as shy about kissing as he was about eating, and they never knew what seemingly-charming old lady would shoot them a disapproving glare. This was a nice change of pace.
The flowers smelled good, and like they had been kept fresh with magic. Simon wondered what they were called.
“They’re Gerbera daisies,” said Baz, seemingly reading his mind. “Now, what disgustingly sweet monstrosity do you want to drink today?”
Simon couldn’t help but grin again. Avoiding Baz was going to be very, very difficult.
February 5th
Simon picked up a pair of jeans, only to be horrified at the amount of tears and holes it had. There was virtually more empty space than cloth. He quickly put it back down, trying and failing to fold it into the right shape, and moved on to the next display. He was feeling kind of lost. Now that Mordelia had acquired Baz’s trouser size for him, he could actually buy Baz’s present, but this wasn’t his speed at all. Big shopping centres. The actual shopping. Lots of Normals around. Fashion. God, he felt completely lost.
“Need any help?”
Simon turned to find that a chipper employee had appeared behind him. They popped up like mushrooms after the rain. “No, thanks, I think I’ll be fine.” Simon did his best to smile as he spoke, but he guessed that the vibes he was giving off were actually ‘terrified’ and ‘lost’ and perhaps ‘sad puppy’.
The employee seemed doubtful but didn’t push it. She was short, with short hair, and her store-mandated vest was covered with optimistic pins. Her ears reminded him of a pixie.
She had started walking away when Simon changed his mind. “Actually! If you don’t mind, I think I do need help.” Her kind smile encouraged him to continue. “I’m looking for jeans for my… my, er, boyfriend. I’m looking for something without many tears, and not too tight.”
“Do you want me to bring you a few options?”
Simon sighed in relief. “That would be great, thanks.” He told her the size he needed, and she walked purposely towards a rack on the other side of the store. As he watched her pull out different pairs and pile them in her arms, fascinated by her decisiveness, Simon’s phone rang. The regular one, not the burner phone. The phone he had forced Baz to buy with him, so they could talk. Baz, who was the one calling him right now.
Shit, shit, shit. He took a deep breath, finger hesitating above the screen, and let the phone ring almost five full rings before picking up.
“Hey, babe.” Simon closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself. He had been going for ‘casual’, but there was nothing casual about pet names with them.
“Babe?” Baz’s incredulous tone was almost enough to make Simon hang up.
“Erm. Yeah. No. Ignore that. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Simon looked nervously around the store. The employee was halfway back to him, still stopping at displays and racks.
“Remember how I told you that Mordelia stole my clothes? Now she’s decided to teach the baby how to play the piano. The sound is deafening. I’ve started taking walks around the garden just to avoid her.”
“Oh, that sounds awful.”
“It is! It really is. Erm, so, I tried to find a reason to get out of the house, and I’m in the coffee shop we like, and they have a sale on chocolates, and I was just wondering if you like marzipan.”
“Erm, yeah, sure. It’s sweet, right? Then sure, I guess I like it.” The employee had almost completed a full round. He’d have to hang up soon.
“What about hazelnut? Or – or, get this, hazelnut coffee.”
“Er…” Simon smiled apologetically at the employee, who was back in front of him, carrying a pile of clothes almost as tall as her. “Yes to hazelnut chocolate, no to the coffee. I, er, I kind of have to go, can we talk later?”
“Sure, I – I guess.” Baz let Simon hang up.
Simon thanked the employee profusely and started going through the pile of jeans.
Baz pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the blank screen, disappointed. Mordelia really was trying to teach the baby to play the piano, that much was true, but it wasn’t the reason he was looking at chocolates. He was trying to do something nice for Simon, and his boyfriend was still acting weird and pulling away. That had to have been the shortest phone conversation they’d had since Simon had forced him to buy the damn thing. What could he have possibly done wrong?
Baz paid for the chocolate in a stupor and left the store deflated.
February 10th
Dearest Basilton,
No. Simon crossed out the words. Who was he, Baz’s grandmother? Wait. Did Baz have a grandmother? Obviously, genetically, he had to have grandmothers. But were they alive? How could Simon not know this? He’d have to ask him.
Simon shook his head and stared at the paper.
Baz, he started again. Simple and personal. You already know how much I love you.
Simon chewed on his pen. No: I hope you already know how much I love you.
But birthdays are a time to state the obvious again. So, I love you, I love you, I love you. You’re the best person I know. The bravest, the strongest, the most resolute person I know. The smartest. Wait, nevermind. Second smartest. Stop glaring at me and read the rest of the card.
I love how good you are with your siblings. How patient and gentle you are with me when I need it most. I love how dramatic you are, and how dramatic our story is. I love that you’re looking for a flat near me and Penny. Maybe eventually we’ll be looking for a flat near Penny. I hope so. I hope we get there.
I wish you the best birthday ever. The best fucking birthday anyone on this planet has ever had, Baz. And an incredible year. And an amazing life after that. You deserve it. I’ll be there to share that year and that life with you, for as long as I can.
Well. If all goes according to plan, you’ll be reading this in front of your family, and I don’t want you to sob like a baby in front of them, so I’ll stop now. But I just need you to know that you matter, so much.
Love,
Me.
There. Perfect. Simon started copying the words from the draft paper to the card.
*
Baz glanced at the recipe again to make sure. Three quarters cup of butter wasn’t going to be enough for his boyfriend. He turned back to the counter and filled the cup to the brim with melted butter.
As he poured the butter from the cup to the bowl, he heard Mordelia’s small, barefoot steps entering the kitchen, and then he was attacked from behind with a waist-height hug.
“Hey!” He turned around, pretending to be mad. “Never put your sticky little hands on my clothes again. As your punishment, you now have to help me bake.” He lifted her onto the counter and she giggled. “Here, take this and mix the batter.”
Mordelia turned to the bowl beside her and started mixing with great concentration as Baz added the rest of the ingredients. Mordelia helped him shape the batter into scones, and when they came out of the oven, round and fresh and smelling like the feeling of home and lazy mornings and butter, he let her have one.
The rest of the scones went with Baz to Simon and Penny’s flat. Baz hardly bothered to knock these days. He had a key to the flat, but since Simon was the world’s biggest airhead, the door was usually left unlocked. It was the first in a long list of things that both Baz and Penny chided him on.
He called out as he entered, but spotted Simon almost immediately, sitting at the kitchen table with a look of intense concentration. When he noticed his boyfriend, Simon quickly shoved the piece of paper he was working on under the napkin holder.
“What’s that?” Baz gestured to the table.
Simon waved his hand, trying to blow away the question, but he looked a bit worried. “It’s nothing.” He enveloped Baz in a hug and a kiss. “Are these scones for me?”
Baz nodded. “Home baked.”
Simon’s thrilled yell startled Penny out of her room. The three of them spent a cozy afternoon together, eating scones and watching movies, but Baz couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Simon was hiding something from him.
February 14th
Valentine’s day wasn’t nearly as big a deal for mages as it was for Normals, but Simon had told Baz all about what it was like for Normals a few months ago. Apparently, they went completely out of their way to show their partners that they loved them. To Baz, it seemed kind of obvious that people liked who they’re dating. But apparently Normals bought ridiculous gifts, like huge teddy bears that were completely impractical, or much too much chocolate for one person.
Actually, in Simon’s case, there was no such thing as too much chocolate. Baz supposed the whole ordeal was kind of sweet. At least, it was sweet how excited Simon got over the holiday. So he decided to surprise him with a date.
He was currently at a Normal shopping centre, making preparations. Baz looked at the bags he was holding, wondering if anything was missing. He had bought a teddy bear (medium sized, so it could fit on Simon’s bed); a box of chocolates (not heart shaped, God forbid); a bouquet of red and white roses (these, Baz could appreciate the value of); and a box of pastries (chock-full of butter, of course). It seemed like enough, until a colorful stall caught Baz’s eye. In a clear plastic case sat a pile of colorful heart shaped candies, engraved with cheesy-sweet sentiments. Kiss me. First love. Be mine. Baz thought that some grubby little child had probably put their dirty hands all over the candy. Simon, on the other hand, would love them. Baz added a bag of the candies to his shopping pile.
Next was picking up Simon’s favorite dishes at an Italian restaurant they liked, and finally, picking Simon up and taking him on a surprise picnic in the park.
*
Simon didn’t usually bake, but since he wanted everything to be special on his boyfriend’s perfect birthday, he had announced to Penny and Agatha that he was going to make the cake himself. They had promptly laughed in his face, and then offered to teach him how to bake.
At the time, Simon had protested that there was always a recipe, and you didn’t need to learn how to bake. Now he couldn’t be happier that the girls had convinced him to make a practice cake, especially after Baz’s scones had set the bar pretty high. Apparently, there was a certain cup size you had to use for measurements, and there were different types of flour for different types of doughs, and some people (Simon included) needed to break a few eggs wrong before they could break an egg right.
So the brisk knock at the door, followed by Baz’s voice floating in, couldn’t have come at a worse time. Simon was wearing Penny’s ridiculous apron, which had the names of classical composers printed haphazardly all over it in strange angles, and he was covered in flour and a milk stain.
“Shit. What do I do?”
Agatha pulled the apron off Simon’s neck and patted most of the flour off his shirt. “Make up some excuse, if you can.”
Simon walked around the corner to the front of the house tentatively. “Hey!”
Baz flourished yet another bouquet of flowers. What had gotten into him lately? “Hello. I’ve come to steal you for a few hours.”
“Oh, it’s… it’s not the best time. Er, Agatha is here, and, erm, she and Penny really want me to bake this cake with them…. Can we please reschedule for tomorrow?”
“Actually, we can’t. You can bake a cake any other time. Oh, it smells good…” Baz started to walk towards the kitchen, but Simon quickly got in his way. “Snow, what are you doing? I would like to say hello to Penny and Agatha.”
“Snow?” Simon seemed dumbfounded. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”
Baz sighed. “I’m sorry. It just feels like you’ve been pulling away from me lately. Which makes me feel like we’re in school again. Which is one of the reasons you need to come with me right now, because I planned a lovely date for us, and the food is getting cold.”
Simon ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the curls. “Give me three minutes, and then we can leave, okay? This is really sweet. Thank you.”
“Alright. I’ll say hello to the girls and then wait in the car. I’m not sure that it isn’t going to get towed away.”
“Erm, no. I – I need three minutes first, and then you can say hello.” Simon hurried into the kitchen and shut the door firmly behind him, feeling very guilty. “Ladies. We need to wrap this up. I told him we were baking a cake, but he probably expects something much… smaller than this.”
Penny looked back and forth between the multi-layered cake and the door, behind which stood Baz. “We’re just about done. It needs to go into the refrigerator for a few hours.”
Agatha shook her head. “He might want to see it if it’s in the refrigerator.” She picked the cake up carefully and slid it gracefully into the oven.
Penny, ever the rule stickler, looked shocked. “You – you can’t. It’s a chilled cake.”
“Just trust me, okay?” She shut the oven door just as Baz opened the door.
“Simon, this is ridiculous. Hello, Wellbelove, Bunce. Please tell my idiot boyfriend that he can bake with you any other time, and that today is Valentine’s Day, which he was excited about, and he has to come with me before our food gets cold.”
“That sounds like kidnapping.”
Agatha, ever the peacemaker, shot Penny a glare. “I personally couldn’t agree more. We actually just put the cake in the oven, so it’s the perfect time for Simon to leave.”
“The oven… isn’t on.”
“We’re using magic. That’s why it doesn’t look turned on. Penelope wanted to practice her heating magic. Right, Penny?” Agatha sickly-sweet smile still held a remnant of the murderous glare.
“Erm… yes. Exactly. Simon, go and have fun. It is Valentine’s Day, after all. We’ve got this.”
February 24th
The last week and a half before Baz’s birthday passed uneventfully. He and Simon toured a few apartments and had some nights out, but neither one had any more steps to their plan. Simon was done with his. Baz was just exhausted and out of ideas.
*
In Simon’s opinion, Baz’s birthday passed without a hitch. He showed up at the Pitch manor at the appointed time. Breakfast, presents, and a lazy morning all went according to plan. Baz even teared up a little when reading his card.
“You’re such a sap, Sn– Simon. I– I love you too.” Baz embraced him, but Simon was practically buzzing with giddiness and pushed him off.
“Open the rest of it!”
“This gift card entitles you to–” Baz burst out laughing. “That’s incredible. I am definitely using it in the next week. And this is… jeans. These are jeans. You probably want me to change into them right now, don’t you?” Baz walked into the guest bathroom accompanied by excited cheers from both Simon and his siblings, and emerged wearing a snug pair of jeans to excited claps and whoops from his parents.
*
Later, in Baz’s room, Simon decided it was time for a little digging. “Do you… this is a bit random.” He picked at Baz’s duvet absentmindedly. “Do you still have grandmothers?”
“Daphne’s parents live an hour away. We see them once a month or so.”
“And your biological grandparents…?”
Baz shook his head minutely.
“Oh! It’s one already! I told Penny I would let her know– your dead relatives are fascinating and everything, but do you want to have lunch with the girls? Maybe Dev and Niall?”
“My dead relatives are fascinating, don’t disrespect them like that.” Baz broke out in a smile. Maybe Simon’s cold patch was over. “Sure. Let’s have lunch.”
*
Later, much later, they were walking on a lamp lit street, arms hooked together and frosty breaths mingling in the air, and Simon leaned his head on Baz’s shoulder. “I have to admit, that exhibition was actually interesting.”
“I know. Robert was a genius. But I’m still having a bit of a hard time believing that you enjoyed an art exhibition so much.” Baz could feel Simon shaking with laughter beside him, his warm body pressed to his shoulder to hip. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He really didn’t. But… “Simon. We should talk.”
Simon picked his head up and Baz immediately missed the comforting weight on his shoulder. “Huh?”
“You’ve been distant lately. As if you don’t really want to spend time with me.”
“Don’t be silly. I love you. Here, let’s walk through this park.” Simon was barely listening, pulling on Baz’s sleeve to steer him towards a lit patch of grass.
Baz took a deep breath. “You’re avoiding my questions again. It feels… It feels like you’re hiding something from me.”
Simon stopped walking and looked back at him with sudden realization. “Something like… your birthday surprise?”
Baz squinted at the park ahead of them. Were those...?
“Don’t be silly. I would never hide anything from you. Not again.” Simon reached up and kissed Baz sweetly. “Now come on. Everybody is waiting for us. I’m in charge of bringing the birthday boy, and it’s too simple a job to mess up.”
Baz let Simon lead the way. He didn’t want him to see the ridiculous grin that he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face.
11 notes · View notes
nick-eyre · 3 years
Note
I just thought idk if you write but for the Tyler Pitch au, have it so Baz gets attacked by vampires and his mum dies, and Malcom can’t take it, Fiona wants to drown him and call it an accident (I love her but she’s ruthless and she only gets that far bc Malcom is broken and doesn’t argue back) and as a compromise they put him in a home and wipe his memory so he knows nothing about himself except 1. He’s a vampire and he can’t tell anybody 2. He has magic and he can’t tell anybody 3. If somebody says they’re taking you to Watford, trust them. But apart from that he thinks he’s been born into care. And with Simon Davy has half a heart and sends him to Salisbury’s with a forged note from Lucy and a photo of her holding him, so he’s raised with Ruth. I’m not sure what would happen plott wise but I’d love to see the interactions between Powerful but Clumsy who was raised by his aunt and has a temper like the sun and knew how to use the 14-set pieces of cutlery before he could spell his own name. He still has a stutter (I HC that’s because he has so much power trying to get out bio a spells, that when he speaks his words jump out and it also explains why he’s seemingly impulsive speech wise) but it only shows up when he is out of his depth in the middle of town. You can have childhood best friends with Penny how they play pretend dragons and knights, and Simons first bit of magic is breathing fire. This means the mage doesn’t know if his rituals worked as he didn’t go off. With Baz, I’m not sure how he’d get to Watford other than when he was 11 Aunt Fiona showed up, but he obviously didn’t remember her. He told her to shove off and didn’t trust her, untill she showed him fire magic. It takes Baz a moment to actually use his magic and Fi is terrified that the last legacy of her sisters son is a dead battery. But once he gets a flame started he can controll it like a snake weaving through his fingers. She takes him to Watford, saying she’s been tracing him for a while bc Baz had moved home a few times and they weren’t notified as they (the carers) thought he had no family. I wanna see Baz go to Watford and have everybody talk about the tragic accident that took his mum, how brave and powerful she was, and how her family mourned her for years and years untill Malcom remarried. And he’s just stood there like “I’ve never met those people” and at one point he bunks off lesson and speaks to Ebb, who talks about fi and his dad and daphne and mordelia and the family he could have had. Baz, in his childhood naivety tells Ebb about him being a vampire, which she is shocked by but very maternal instead of scared. And it ends up with Simon and Baz hating eachother (the plotting and vampire accusations is still a thing and Simon is still simon, but he also makes digs about Baz stealing shit bc he’s poor, to which Penny jabs him in the ribs for, Baz says he doesn’t need penny’s help albeit more rudely calling her a “purple headed fuck” (he is 12 give him time to become more smarmy lmao) which starts the feud. So Simon and Baz are constantly going down to ebb to chat shit about eachother, (Simon was down every night for a week once Baz “took his spot [“im just be’ah than you snow, don’t be a cunt”]” on the football team) and honestly it’s a miracle they haven’t bumped into eachother. The stalking starts when Simon sees Baz talk to Ebb and they are walking into Forrest (to get a rouge sheep but Simon thinks he’s gonna drain ebb) so he starts pestering ebb into what she and Baz talk about, and when she refused he starts to follow him around. I’m not sure how snowbaz would happend,but I just needed to vent about the idea. Obviously this is just a fun prompt you don’t have to do, but I thought of like 5 chapter >20k where it’s snapshots throughout there time together
Tyler Pitch is just Baz but heterosexual so there will be no snowbaz. in my fic Baz will marry a woman named Becky and move to the suburbs where baz has a mancave and like a cool truck or something they hosts backyard barbecues and drinks pilsners
But if you want to write this go for it bc I’m not going to and you seem very passionate about the idea!
9 notes · View notes
sillyunicorn · 2 years
Text
Snowbaz Mad Libs #5 & 6
If you thought I was done at 4 you were oh so wrong. The hilarity continues with @johnwgrey 's mad libs, which I think both turned out surprisingly sweet. Thank you for playing!!
Once Upon a Lavender Sword
Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince, who lived in a yummy tower with his 304 stags.
One day, his parents announced that he was to be married, which the prince did not want.
To avoid his impending betrothal, he told his parents that he was, in fact, already in love.
“His name is Simon,” he told his parents. “And we have already pledged our love to one another.”
In fact, he and Simon had made no such promises. But he knew he could get Simon to agree. You see, he and Simon had once withdrawn some boyfriends together under a full moon, and that does create a certain bond.
The prince sent Fiona to fetch Simon, who looked quite delighted when he finally appeared.
“Sorry for the wait, sire, I was wrestling with some mermaids. Eight snakes and a dragon, there’s another one!” He pulled it out of his hair and quickly squashed it under his boot.
“I see,” the prince said, questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment.
“So what was it you wanted with me? More help with your history lessons?” Simon waggled his eyebrows.
“That was one time,” the prince seethed. “And no. I need you to pretend to be in love with me so my parents won’t make me marry someone else.”
“Oh boy!” Simon said. “I never thought this was how I’d be proposed to. Don’t you think we should do some, I don’t know, cooking first?”
The prince sniffed haughtily. “I’m not asking you to marry me, just pretend to be in love with me.”
“Well alright,” Simon said. “Actually, I don’t think that will be that difficult. You see, I’ve been in love with you ever since you asked me to sing with you in the forest that one time.”
“Really?” the prince asked.
“Yep,” Simon said. “So, will you marry me?”
“Nothing would make me happier,” the prince replied. And they lived happily ever after.
Every Scarlet Freebooter
Simon chose all the way down the corridor, feeling amused. Baz had called him a sparrow earlier, and it really stung, even though it was hardly the first time Baz had insulted him that way. Simon wasn’t sure what he’d do when he saw Baz next.
Suddenly, Penny poked her head out of the English classroom.
“Simon!” she exclaimed. “Where have you been? Mitali was just about to show us how to fiddle paintings. I know you don’t want to miss that.”
Simon sighed. Penny was always pulling him into her graceful adventures (although she would say the opposite was true).
The activity ended up taking two hours, so it was late when Simon finally got back to their room. Simon didn’t mind though; any time away from Baz was probably for the best.
“Alas!” Baz shouted when Simon opened the door to their room. “You can’t just barge in like that when I’m touching.”
“Oh yeah?” Simon said. “What are you going to do about it, you little dragon?”
Simon stared Baz down; both eyes narrowed and one hand on his hip.
“This,” Baz said, and kissed him.
Thank magic, Simon thought. Things were starting to make a whole lot more sense.
Before Baz could pull away, Simon kissed him back.
And back, and back, and back.
9 notes · View notes
caitybug · 4 years
Note
24 snowbaz? (or whoever you want :))
A kiss for each year alive.
Thanks so much for the prompt!
I hope you like what I did (:
(Feel free to check it out on ao3)
I’m sitting on the roof looking up at the stars.
I’ve determined that having wings has many benefits. 
Flying myself and Baz out of harm's way in Nevada. 
Covering the two of us in bed so we can pretend we are secluded. (It also helps Baz stay warm.)
Flying up on the roof, where no one else is able to go. 
I can sit up here for ages and just look at the stars. The moon isn’t in the sky tonight (a new moon) so the stars are left to shine on their own. 
It’s fairly warm out, being the middle of summer, so I’m only wearing a shirt and joggers. It’s a bit hot, even, in just that. But there’s a nice breeze to cool me off. 
I’m not sure how long I’ve been out here, contemplating life and trying to keep any swelling panic from coming back to the surface, but I’m sure Baz is out there probably worrying about me. 
(Always does.)
He’s a good man.
(A good boyfriend.)
It’s June 20th. 
The day before my birthday. 
(It’ll be the first time that I really know when my birthday is.)
I think they’ve got something planned. Nothing large or big, but something just me, Baz, Penny, and Shepard.
I haven’t decided yet how I feel about it. 
I always wanted to have a birthday. The kids at the home would have cake and get a donated gift when it was theirs. 
They never knew when mine was. Just guess I was born in 97 (which was true, in the end actually) and would give me a gift whenever they had extra.
(Sometimes a couple years would roll by before they remembered that the birthday-less kid hadn’t gotten anything.)
But now that I know, it feels odd. I’m not used to the parties or gifts. 
(The cake, however, I'm looking forward to.)
I take a deep breath as panic begins to encroach upon me again, making my breath shallow and quick. 
I hear a noise from below. 
(Fire escape?)
Even the fire escape doesn’t come up this high. You need a special key to get up here. 
I hear a lock click and I jump, realizing that someone may have called about the half dragon half man sitting on the roof. 
(No one has before. I think Londoners just keep to themselves. They see enough odd things on the road, they may not even question it.)
“It’s me,” I hear as I see the top of a head over the side of the roof. 
I frown.
“Baz? How’d you get up here? I thought it was locked.”
“I’m a bloody mage Simon, how do you think I got up here?” 
Oh. Right.
He steps over and brushes off his pants before walking closer to me. 
“Are you okay?” He asks. 
I look back up to the stars. There is a particularly bright one I’ve been staring at for a while. 
(Sometimes people buy stars in memory of a loved one. I don’t have the money for it, or even the knowledge of how, but I’ve named this one Lucy after my mum. I think it would fit her. Or at least what I know of her.)
“I’m alright, yeah,” I reply, looking up to it. 
What would birthdays have been like with her around? 
Baz takes a seat next to me and looks up at the sky as well. 
“When I was young,” he starts, moving closer to me. Our shoulders touch and I let my head fall onto his shoulder. “My mother and I would come outside on clear nights like this, and she’d show me how to identify constellations in the sky.” 
I let him pause, waiting for him to continue. 
“So I still come out sometimes and look up and think of her.” He reaches a hand over and places it on my knee, giving it a light squeeze. “But I also wouldn’t mind coming out here and doing the same with you, if you’d ever like.” 
I think for a moment before responding. 
“I think I’d like that,” I say quietly, lifting my head up to look at him.
He leans in and kisses me, pulling me close by the back of my neck. 
It’s nice and lovely, causing my brain to blissfully shut off, and give my body something else to do. 
I try to pull back once, but he doesn’t allow it, so I give in.
But then it keeps going and I open my eyes and frown. His hand is still on my neck, fairly tight, and his eyes are closed.
(His eyelashes are so long for a bloke.)
Focus, Simon.
“Baz?” I manage around our lips. 
He hums in response.
“Can I breath, maybe, for a moment?” I ask.
It all comes out muffled as he still hasn’t let me part. 
“Not yet,” he says, sighing closer into me. 
I close my eyes again.
It does feel nice.
(But also- a bit odd.)
“What are you playing at?” I ask. 
I can feel his smile against my lips. 
He moves slightly, not allowing us to completely separate, but also backs enough away that I can breath a bit. 
“It’s after midnight,” he says, his lips brushing against mine for every word.
I wait a moment for him to explain. 
“Meaning it’s your birthday, Snow. Therefore you get birthday kisses.”
“So is your masterful plan to snog me all day?” I ask. 
He lets me pull back and opens his eyes.
“A kiss for every year alive,” he says, as if it’d explain anything. “So for the first 23 minutes of your birthday, I plan to kiss you.”
I huff out a laugh.
“You’re insane,” I say, my smile growing bigger.
He smiles back and raises an eyebrow.
“Insane for you,” he jests, leaning in. “Now, please lean in, we’ve still got 15 minutes to go of proper snogging.” 
I pull him close by his waist and let him continue.  
(Not like I would complain about a birthday rule such as this anyway. Not when it’s from Baz.)
50 notes · View notes
nonbaznary · 3 years
Text
Carry On Countdown - Day 10: Crossover
(Not posting on AO3)
Keep reading on Tumblr below the cut!
Words: 2401
I’m a bit late with other prompts BUT for today, I edited a Cemetery Boys scene (no spoilers, really, it’s in the beginning and the plot/summary of the book basically gives this scene away), because I couldn’t help but see similarities about Snowbaz and Yadrian, both canon and headcanon. Anyways, I love my transmasc awkward heroes and their undead nobinary gay boyfriends who may seem scary but are total sweethearts. I also changed some elements of the original story so it sounded more like Carry On, so it’s kind of a Cemetery Boys remix, or something. Anyways LOL happy COC day 10!! Hope y’all like this <3 Also thank you Aiden Thomas your gays gave new meaning to my life
Cemetery Boys AU
Simon could feel energy swarming below him.
“Do you feel that, too?” Penelope asked.
“Yeah. It’s way stronger in here.” he said. Whatever spirit that led them here was close.
Simon took a step back, and his shoe slipped. He’d stepped on a piece of cloth.
Penny moved in. “What’s that?”
“I think it’s a scarf.” Simon muttered, pointing his lantern to it. The scarf was pale blue. He bent down and carefully picked it up. As soon as his fingers made contact with the fabric, a shiver ran through his body. Electricity flooded through his veins, and he took a sharp breath. Something pulsed under his feet, synchronized with his own heartbeat.
“I think- It’s a tether.” he said, a spike of adrenaline making him feel light-headed.
When a spirit attached itself to a tether, they had to stay near it. That was why haunted houses existed, but not many cities haunted by a single ghost – spirits couldn’t venture far from their tethers. And mages could only release them and help them pass peacefully to their eternal rest once they were free of their earthly bindings.
Simon had never actually held a spirit’s tether before. They were incredibly powerful. Some of the mages claimed that mishandling a spirit’s tether would get you cursed. But Simon had never heard of anyone actually getting possessed, and he had no intention of disrespecting this tether.
“But it’s not Ebb’s. She didn’t own any silk blue scarfs, that I’m sure of.” Penelope said, reaching out as if to touch it before thinking better.
“It could be Ebb’s.” Simon tried to reason, his hope of finding his friend fighting against logic. He squeezed the scarf in his hand. Warmth spread through his palm and up his arm. He turned to Penny with a smile. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Penelope gave him a skeptical look, and Simon shrugged.
“I have to try – What if Ebb’s spirit got tethered to this instead of her staff?” he said, twisting the scarf between his fingers.
“It could be attached to someone who’s gone malefic.” Penelope said, casting a pointed look around the dilapidated church.
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got a sword now, innit?” Simon said. Penny raised her eyebrows, but then grinned.
“All right, Greatest Mage, work your magic.”
The rush of excitement made Simon feel giddy as he knelt.
He held his hand over his hip, calling for the Sword of Mages. "In justice. In courage. In defense of the weak. In the face of the mighty. Through magic and wisdom and good." The hilt materializes in his grip, and he swings the sword up to his shoulder. Maybe it was the feel of the blade in his hand or the magic he knew flowed through his veins, but Simon felt recklessly brave.
He stood up again and tried to take a deep breath, but he was too excited, practically buzzing. His palms were sweaty. He looked over to Penelope, who gave him an enthusiastic and encouraging nod.
Simon had seen his mentor, Davy, summon spirits before. It wasn’t exactly general knowledge for mages, but he knew what to do and how to do it. It was one of the few incantations that Simon believed he could get right, like with the Sword of Mages, because those weren’t like other spells. They didn’t come so easily to other mages as regular incantations did. Magic words are tricky, and Simon had never been good with words. You have to have a good vocabulary to do magic. You have to be able to think on your feet and be brave enough to speak up. And you have to actually understand what you’re saying, how the words translate into magic.
None of that came naturally to Simon. And his magic... He was powerful, he knew that, but his magic behaved differently than everyone else’s. His magic was immediate and literal. Sometimes, it acted when he didn’t even mean to make it do anything. It just… happened.
And that was exactly what he needed right now.
He felt the magic inside him, strong and infinite. He called it to the surface, his skin suddenly warmer, and held out his arm, the scarf looped around his hand. Simon cleared his throat, trying to breathe around the lump that had formed.
“I summon you, spirit!”
For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then, an explosion of heat and golden light. Simon sprang back, choking on the smoke.
There was a person in front of him, doubled over their hand and knees, clutching their chest.
Simon could hardly believe his eyes. “It worked!”
The spirit’s face was screwed up tight in a grimace, their fingers knotted into the material of his shirt, a beautiful floral, white with blue and purple flowers and fat striped bumblebees.
“That’s not Ebb.” Penelope tried to whisper, but she’d never had a very good inside voice.
Simon groaned and dragged a hand over his face. On the bright side, he had actually summoned a real-life spirit
On the not-so-bright side, he had summoned the wrong one.
“Obviously.” Simon growled back, unable to look away from the spirit as they gasped for breath, the muscles in their neck straining. They had that translucent quality around the edges, like all spirits, Their eyes swung to Simon and Penny, with a handsome but very angry face, their grimace now more of a sneer.
“Well, at least it’s not a malefic spirit?” Penny offered.
The person staggered to their feet, upright but unsteady. “Who the hell are you?”, they snarled, dark grey eyes blazing, sharp as obsidian.
“Uhh” was Simon’s unhelpful reply, suddenly back to being capable of forming a coherent sentence.
“Where am I?” the person’s voice coming out of them in a tight roar, head tilting back as they took in their surroundings. “Am I in a church?” their attention swung back to Simon and Penelope with an accusing glare. “Who let me in a church?”
Familiarity prickled at the back of Simon’s mind, racing to place their sharp edges, posh look, and the irritated, cold tone in their voice.
“Uh- well- you see,” Simon stammered, not really sure how to explain their situation, but he wasn’t given the chance to finish. The person’s eyes snagged on the scarf still dangling from Simon’s hand.
“Hey!” Simon saw their anger swell, hunching their shoulders, and propelling them forward. The spirit stomped up to him, fire in their eyes. “That’s mine.”
They reached out to snatch the scarf, but their hand went right through it. They frowned and tried again, and when their hand slid through it a second time, they froze, blinked their eyes, and slowly waved it back and forth.
Their eyes went wide, and they stumbled back. “What the hell is this?” they demanded to know, looking between their hand and the scarf and Simon and Penelope.
“Wow, this is really awkward.” Simon said, scratching at the back of his neck. Penelope seemed less worried.
“Well, there’s no denying you’re an actual mage now.” she said, circling the spirit with keen interest. They scowled at her.
“Who are you, and what are you doing with my scarf?” they demanded, looking to Simon for answers.
“Well, uh, I used it to summon you.” he tried.
The spirit crossed their arms, arching a thick eyebrow.
“Yeah, we thought it might have belonged to Ebb.” What was the gentlest way to tell someone they were dead?
“Ebeneza. Our friend.” Penelope specified.
The spirit didn’t seem at all interested in who Ebb was. “It’s mine.” they insisted with a growl. “It belonged to my mother. It’s got our last name on it see?” their fingers curling in demand.
Simon turned the fabric over to find that a name had indeed been recorded in a tip. He blinked. “Oh.” The delicate cursive letters read PITCH. “Oh.”
The Pitch family was well known, and also magickal. They didn’t do any death-related magic, though, not like Davy or the Bunces – they were magickal authorities. Royalty, aristocrats, leaders. Researchers, linguists. They knew spells like no other magickal families. They were fire magicians, brilliant with fire. But they weren’t involved with action, not like the mages Simon and Penelope grew with. The Pitches didn’t know about death magick, not like them.
Simon knew the Pitch’s heir, Baz Pitch, or rather knew of them. They went to highschool together, and Baz had a bit of a... reputation. They used to be a top student, and when they were roaming the halls it was hard to not notice them. They had the sort of presence that demanded everyone’s attention without needing to ask. They were hard to miss.
Until they got expelled.
“Do you know how you got here?” Simon questioned them. Baz glared.
“No. All I remember is walking down the street with my friends. Then something- someone-” they frowned. “I just remember getting knocked over.” They unconsciously rubbed at the same point on their chest, near their heart. “Then the next thing I knew, I was in a church with you two.”
Three beats passed before Baz’s eyes went wide. “I died, didn’t I?” Simon and Penelope looked at each other. “Am I dead?”
Simon gave a small nod. Baz stumbled back a step, their body wavering in and out of existence for a moment. “Oh, Crowley. My aunt is going to kill me.” They pressed both hands against their face and groaned against their palms.
“Looks like someone already beat her to it.” Penelope pointed out.
“So I’m a spirit now.” Baz scowled, ignoring the girl. They didn’t sound angry or dismayed, just… annoyed. As if this were just an inconvenience. “And you’re also mages, I suppose. So you can send spirits to the afterlife, right?”
“Yes- Well, no-” Simon fumbled, trying to explain himself. “I should be able to- er, I guess- I haven’t done the releasing part yet-”
“Great. So I’m stuck with two shitty witches.”
Annoyance flared in Simon. “Look, this is my first time, okay?” Baz blinked slowly at him, unimpressed. “You- You’re attached to a tether, your scarf. So I just need to destroy the-”
“No, no way!” Baz shook their head. “That’s my mother’s scarf, you are not destroying it.” They tried to snatch it from Simon, but, again, they were left with a fistful of empty air. Penelope chuckled.
“No, just listen-” Simon gripped his blade, raising it.
Baz scoffed, which was not how Simon thought any sane person should react to getting a sword pointed at them.
“What are you going to do, stab me?” Baz’s laughter was flat and sharp. “Already dead, remember?”
“I’m not going to stab you!” No matter how tempting it is, Simon thought. Penelope cut in.
“He can use this to destroy the tie keeping you here.” Baz opened their mouth to argue, but Penny pressed on. “Not the scarf, just the tie anchoring you to the scarf. Then you can go to the afterlife and be at peace, okay?”
Baz smirked. “Yeah, no. He’s not doing that.”
Simon groaned. Of course the first spirit he summoned was a git that wouldn’t just be released willingly. No, he had to get stuck with the one who had an attitude problem.
“I’m doing this. Right now.” Simon said. “We still need to find Ebb, and, besides, if you stay here like this for too long, you’ll turn all dark and violent and start hurting people.”
Baz crossed their arms over their chest. “No.” Simon looked at Penelope for help, but she just shrugged her shoulders.
“You’re leaving me no choice.” Simon pushed his jaw forward to stand his ground. A thick eyebrow quirked. Simon called for his magic, squeezing the scarf in his hand. “Show me the bond!”
The Sword of Mages and the scarf glowed bright, filling the church with a warm blaze that made all three of them squint. A golden thread sparked to life in the air, starting from the blue fabric and ending at the center of Baz’s chest.
Simon inhaled a deep breath. “I set you free for the next life!” he sliced his sword through the air, aiming directly for the golden thread. Instead of severing it, the edge of the blade caught on the line. The Sword of Mages vibrated in his hand, and small sparks flew from where they met.
Baz relaxed, but Simon wasn’t giving up just yet. He tried slicing through it again, then tried sawing at it, but all it did was send more sparks flying and make his shoulder hurt.
Simon turned over to see an obnoxious smirk on Baz’s face.
“Wow. You really suck at this.” they said, looking pleased with themselves. Simon turned to Penelope.
His heart hammered in his ears, and his throat felt like it was closing up on him. The sudden aching in his chest (surely not helped by his tight binder) threatened to swallow him whole. Penny was immediately at his side, her voice calm and soothing as she gripped his arms.
“Don’t worry about this! This isn’t your fault, Si.” she jerked her head in Baz’s direction. “They’re probably too bull-headed to cross over.”
“Hey!”
Penelope ignored their protest. “Just like my great-aunt, remember?”
“Maybe.” Simon mumbled. He didn’t want to think about it. Shame burned hot on his cheeks.
“Look.” Baz called. “I’m willing to cut you a deal.”
Simon and Penny turned to them.
“I’ve got unfinished business.” Baz said, brow furrowed. “And I need to check on my friends. They were with me when I died, I need to make sure they’re okay.” their face twisted between annoyance and something that could’ve been worry. “And maybe they know who got me. That could be connected-” They shook their head, interrupting themselves. “If you help me on a personal project, and let me find my friends and make sure they’re okay, I will willingly let you do what you need to do and send me to the afterlife.”
Simon looked at Penelope, who shrugged. “I don’t think we have much of a choice here.”
“Okay.” Simon took a step forward. “Wait. What’s this ‘personal project’ you’re talking about?”
Baz’s features got rigid. They stepped closer to Simon.
“My mother’s killer walks. You are going to help me find out who he is, and avenge her, and bring her peace.”
[my other works for the countdown]
11 notes · View notes
Text
Little Secrets
for @nightimedreamersworld from the prompt list and tags you posted. Thanks to @ninemagicks for leading the way. 
From a tumblr prompt list by @mraculous and sent to the Carry On fandom by @nightimedreamersworld : ‘a mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other from LARPing but we’re both too embarrassed to admit that so I jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend won’t stop interrogating us about it’ AU
Little Secrets, a Snowbaz LARPing AU (2774 words)
Simon
“Do you want to come over Friday? I can order in curry and I’ll even watch that Netflix thing you’re obsessed with, if you like,” Penny says, before taking another bite of her sandwich. I’ve already finished mine but I take the chance to steal one of her crisps. She never finishes them. I hate seeing them go to waste.
No one should ever bin salt and vinegar crisps. It’s a crime against humanity.  
It’s been harder to coordinate our schedules this term. Even meeting for lunch is a treat. We’ve not had a night in for weeks. It’s not as easy, now that we don’t live together.  
And it’s not often that Penny offers to let me decide what we watch. Says she’s got standards and I watch too much “brain numbing rot.”
Castlevania is not rot. It’s fucking brilliant. My costume for this campaign is based on Trevor Belmont. It’s wicked good.  
I’m gutted to have to turn her down though. Friday’s going to have to be a no. We’ve been gearing up for this campaign for weeks and I can’t miss it.  
“I’m sorry. I can’t Friday.”
Penny looks at me over the top of her glasses. “Why not?”
She doesn’t know about this. About the LARP club I joined. It’s something I started doing over the summer, when she was away in India with her family.  
I was bored. And lonely.
I don’t know why I haven’t mentioned it. It’s not that I’m embarrassed about it. I’m not. It’s a hell of a lot of fun swinging a sword around and taking part in campaigns. Even the costume workshops are entertaining.  
Everyone’s so friendly. Well, most of them are, at any rate.
Penny tends to frown upon things like this. Things that don’t serve a purpose. Making new friends doesn’t count as serving a purpose. She’s told me more than once that having too many friends is an unnecessary burden. “There’s only so many hours in a day, Simon. Two, three people, that’s all any of us have time for.”  
That’s all Penny has time for. I’m lucky to be one of her three people.  
Telling her I’m spending two nights a week LARPing with near strangers while dressed as a medieval monster hunter likely won’t go over too well.  
Especially as that amounts to two nights a week I’m not doing my coursework or revising. Sacrilege.  
“Uh. I’ve got . . . uh, there’s a study group.”  
“On a Friday night?” Her eyes widen.  
“Yes.” The shorter the answer the better with Penny. I can’t get caught in a lie if I’m barely saying anything.
“For which class?”
Fuck it all. I can feel my leg starting to jiggle. She’ll know the gig is up if I don’t answer soon.  
“Medieval Literature.” Thank fuck I’m actually taking that class this semester or she’d be onto me.  
It’s not that far off, anyway. Most of the costumes qualify as Medieval.
“Dedicated lot.”
“Quite.”
“It’s good to see you being so devoted to your studies, Simon, what with applications for graduate programs coming up.”
As if I needed the reminder.
“Maybe we can try to find some time next week, then.”
“That’d be great.” I reach out to steal another crisp. She smacks my hand away. “I do miss you, Pen.”
Penny pushes the bag of crisps over to me with a sigh, but she’s smiling. “I miss you too, Si.”
It’s not until the next week that we manage to make plans. And it’s not for curry and Netflix.
We’re at Foyles, having spent the last hour listening to one of Penny’s favorite poets do a reading and a Q & A. Penny’s dead gone for Nikita Gill. I thought it was mostly because she’s a femininst and Indian but I see the point, now that I’ve heard her read from her latest book. She’s brilliant.
Penny’s in line to get her book signed and I’m just sort of shuffling along with her, feeling like a bit of a tit, seeing as I’ve not got a book myself.
Should I? I feel I ought to at least have something, but it’s too late now, we’re almost to the signing table.
Predictably, Penny gets into an intense conversation with the author while I stand there, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably and nodding every so often. The store clerk finally gets Penny to shove off. She drags it out for another minute and then we’re finally clear of that scene.
I’m ready to head to the pub for a bite, but Penny stops down the line to talk to someone from her seminar and I’m left at loose ends again. It’s mostly uni types in the crowd, nearly all of them intense and bright eyed as they talk over each other now and indulge in some excitable hand waving. There’re a few blokes here and there, moody looking types with man-buns, horn rimmed glasses, and oversized jumpers. I recognize one or two from my classes but no one I know well.
Penny stops to talk to another person and I’m in despair over dinner. I wander over to a book display and idly flip through some paperbacks as I wait for her. Thankfully it’s not more than a few minutes later when I hear her call out to me. “Simon!”
I trot over, more than ready to make a run for the pub but her first words aren’t “let’s get out of here.”
“Si, I want you to meet my friend.”
Oh, fuck. We’re never going to get to the pub at this rate. I plaster a smile on my face and turn to say ‘ hello’ to whoever it is Penny is bound and determined to have me meet.
And I freeze.
“This is Baz. He’s in my Modern British Poets seminar and he’s almost as keen about vampire lore as you are.”
I raise my eyes and meet Baz’s cool stare, that one eyebrow of his arched as he meets my gaze.
Fuck. I don’t need to be introduced to Baz. I know Baz. He’s the Mage in our campaign. He’s a fucking ruthless one too, dead brill with his spells, even though he’s a bit shit when he’s got to do any swordwork.
That was my main job on the summer campaign--give him cover so he could cast his spells and decipher his runes and whatever else it is that Mages do.
I’m front line offense now--cut down anyone in my path, long before they can get near the rest of our party. It’s up to Gareth and Niall to have Baz’s back this time around.
I can’t very well pretend I don’t know him, but I really don’t want to be explaining that I’m in a LARP club to Penny in the middle of this bookstore, not in front of Baz.
Fuck.
I give Baz a pleading look which I’m sure only confuses him, based on the way his eyebrow arches up even more. I don’t know how to convey “don’t tell Penny you know me from the Dragonknight campaign” with just my eyes.
“I’m well acquainted with Simon, Bunce.”
I am well and truly fucked.
“You two know each other?” Penny gives me a penetrating look.
Baz keeps talking. “Yes, we’ve been--” but I interrupt him before he can say anything more.
“He’s my ex.”
I have literally no idea why I said that. And there’s no taking it back, now that it’s out there.
Two sets of eyes goggle at me, both of Baz’s eyebrows reaching for his hairline now. Penny looks scandalized.
“Your what?” she asks.
“My ex-boyfriend,” I clarify, literally begging Baz to go along with this with my eyes. I probably look like a gormless twat. Just go along with it, I try to broadcast that thought across the two feet of space between us.
“Your ex-boyfriend,” Penny says flatly. “How do I not know about this, Simon?”
Baz looks just as curious, but thank Christ he doesn’t say anything.
“Oh, you now, summer romance, short-lived fling, gone but not forgotten.” I’m literally babbling.
“Very short lived,” Baz says drily. “So short lived I’d be surprised if he had mentioned it, Bunce.” He’s smirking, the smug bastard. Arms crossed over his chest, that one fucking eyebrow mocking me now.
“Yes, ah, you know, summer.”
“I’d say I don’t know at all, Simon.” Penny’s looking between us, a suspicious look on her face. “Why don’t you fill me in. I’d love to hear about my best friend and my study partner getting together and me being none the wiser.”
Baz is full on grinning now. “Yes, why don’t you tell her, Simon? Unless you’d rather I did?”
I think the fuck not.
“Ah. Well. You know we met  . . . ah . . . at the library.”
“What on earth were you doing at the library?”
What the fuck was I doing at the library? I never go to the library and Penny knows that.
Fuck.
“Wasn’t that when your laptop was being wonky?” Baz chimes in.
I scowl at him. Only one of us needs to be fabricating this tale and that someone is me.
“At least that’s what I remember you saying, when you came in that night.”
Bloody hell.
“Uh, yeah. That’s what it was. Had to come in and do a lit search on premises.”
“It’s a good thing I was working the desk that night,” Baz says, uncrossing his arms and sliding his hands into his jeans pockets.
My eyes follow his hands down and keep going.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz in jeans before. Tunics? Yes. Majestic robes? Yes.
Elegant, fitted jeans that are snug all the right spots? Well, I’d remember seeing that before, is all I’m saying.
I drag my eyes back up to his face. “Uh, yes, um, good thing.”
I didn’t know he worked at the library.
“Simon came in, just before closing time, with the idea that he was going to do a search and print it all out in mere minutes.” He’s really warming to the subject and I’ve lost control of this whole situation.
“Typical,” Penny says and I’m outraged.
“What?” I sputter.
She nods her head at Baz. “He gave you those puppy dog eyes and that crooked little smile of his, didn't he?”
“Now, see here, I’m the one telling the story and–”
But Baz steamrolls right over me. “Oh, you know he did, Bunce.” He gives me a fond look that makes my face heat up.
What’s he playing at? I rub at the back of my neck, feel the clammy sweat starting to form there.
“Got you to do the whole thing for him, didn’t he?”
This is pure slander. I’m not going to stand for this.
“I couldn’t resist his roguish charm.”
“Listen, now--”
Baz just keeps talking. “I had no idea he was such a shameless flirt.” He shakes his head at me and actually manages to look almost mournful, the lying bastard. “Charmed me, wined me, dined me. But once his laptop was functional and the research project complete, just a few short weeks later, he dumped me without a second thought.”
“Simon!” Penny’s glaring at me now. She’s bought his whole fabrication and I’ve got no one but myself to blame for this farce.
“Just wait a bloody minute!” I yelp.
Baz hunches his shoulders and lowers his head. “By text, no less.”
“Really, Simon, how could you?” Penny’s all righteous indignation, her hand coming to rest on Baz’s arm, eyes blazing as she rakes her gaze over me. “I go away for a few weeks and you not only manage to seduce my friend but then unceremoniously dump him by text? You know better than that. You were a bloody wreck when Agatha did that to you!”
And now she’s airing my entire sordid dating history to Baz in the middle of a bloody Foyles on a Thursday night and I’ve not even had dinner. This takes the biscuit, I swear to god.
“Penny, listen, it was nothing like that, really, I swear.”
She’s got her arms crossed over her chest. “Then how was it, Simon?” Cold as ice. You’d think Baz was her best friend and confidant, not me.
This is a fucking disaster. I’d have been better off telling her about the LARPing.
I am going to tell her about the LARPing. It’s the only way out of this mess.
“Listen, Pen, I’m sorry. I thought you’d be upset I was wasting my time--”
“Wasting your time?” Baz interrupts. “Is that what you’re calling our two weeks, then?”
“That’s not what I meant!” I’m going to let a berserker just go by me and wreck Baz this week, I swear I am. Won’t even brandish my sword at him, I’ll just point him in Baz’s direction. It’d serve the bastard right. “Listen, Penny, I was going to tell you, but I was a bit embarrassed--”
“As well you should be, the way you behaved.” Penny interrupts me this time and I have reached my fucking limit.
“Would the two of you let me finish one bloody sentence?”
Two expectant faces meet mine but I swear there’s a glint in Baz’s eyes and his lips quirk like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing. Arsehole. I may go after him myself this week, if he’s not careful. Go rogue. It’d be worth it, just to wipe the smug look off his face.
He’s got his hair down tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that earlier. He’s usually got it up when we’re–fucking hell, why am I thinking about his hair right now?
“Ok, so let me finish what I’ve got to say or I swear to Christ I am going to go off.” Baz inclines his head and waves a hand at me in a ‘have at it’ gesture. Penny frowns but holds her tongue. “So, while you were gone this summer I got a bit caught up in LARPing.”
“You did what?” Penny asks.
“LARPing. Live action role play.”
“Whatever for?”
“I don’t know. For something to do.”
“And why are you telling me this now?”
I pull at my hair and groan. “Because that’s how I met Baz. He’s not my ex. I’ve never gone out with him. I just made that all up, rather than tell you about the whole LARP business.”
“Why on earth would you concoct all that nonsense, Simon?” Penny’s looking completely perplexed but Baz has this cheeky grin, the absolute wanker.
He’s got a dimple in his left cheek.
Fuck.
“Because I thought you’d be irritated. It’s not something that serves a purpose.”
“Why would I care what you do with your free time?”
Oh my fucking god.
I give my hair another yank. “Aren’t you always telling me I should spend more time on my studies? Keep my social life a bit more contained?”
Penny has the audacity to shrug. “I’m not your keeper. If you need to swing a sword around to let off some steam, far be it from me to argue.”
She turns to Baz and smacks him on the arm. “What were you thinking, going along with all this nonsense of his tonight? I’d not expect that kind of foolishness from you, Baz.”
Baz leans against a bookshelf and flashes her a grin. “Let’s just say my curiosity was piqued, when he threw that ex comment out there. And you know how I love to spin a good story, Bunce. He certainly wasn’t going to pull one over on you by himself.” His eyes light on me and there’s something smouldering in the depths of them. Something I’d like to get a closer look at.
“Well, you’re ridiculous, the both of you,” Penny says. “You deserve each other, honestly.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I’m starved. It’s past time we went to dinner.”  
“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Baz’s eyes never leave mine. “I’ll see you Friday then, Snow?”
He used my LARPing alias.
I liked it better when he was calling me Simon.
Penny hooks her arm around his. “Come join us, Baz. Since you and Simon already know each other so well.”
He adjusts his book bag on his shoulder. “I suppose I could do with some dinner.”
Penny keeps her hold on his arm and leans back to look at me behind Baz’s back.
And then she winks.
I think I’m the one that’s been played.
And when Baz’s knee knocks into mine as he squeezes into our booth at the pub I realise I don’t mind one bit.
also on ao3 Little Secrets
90 notes · View notes
accio-that-gay-shit · 3 years
Text
Locked in Love || Snowbaz Oneshot
Heyo! Theo here. I write all my one shots on Wattpad usually, but now I'm copying and pasting them here! Here’s one of my snowbaz ones! Enjoy! 
Watford is under attack and Simon trues to help. Unfortunately, he accidentally locks him and Baz in their dorm together
Simon had been laying on his bed for a short while, alone in his shared room. He'd been staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his mind. None were interesting enough to hold onto, until the thought of Baz came up. He used a hand to brush though his curls as he wondered why Baz had been gone for those two months, what on Earth he could have been plotting...
Baz rubbed the back of his neck as he stared himself in the mirror. (of course he could see himself. Those were just myths that he couldn't) he was a bit disgusted at how sickly he looked. Who knew that being in a coffin for so long did that to you? He shook his head and walked back to their shared dorm, opening the door and sitting on his bed. He stared at a wall, lost in thoughts
Simon looked at Baz as he walked towards his bed and sat, heavily debating saying something to break the familiar silence between them. He cleared his throat. "Your mother visited me while you were away." he mumbled, barely audible.
Baz looked at Simon. "My mother- what? Why did she visit you?" He said starting to feel annoyed. While Baz was out, getting kidnapped but numpties of all things, his mother visited Simon. And not him.
Simon cleared his throat. "Well, while you were away, your mother came through the veil. She was hoping you'd be here, because you always are, but you were too busy plotting or whatever to be in school. So she talked to me instead." he informed Baz, not giving the whole truth because he still thought he should talk to The Mage first.
"I wasn't plotting Snow. You seriously think I'd miss two months of school for that? Uh no thank you" Baz growled. "But back to the topic of my mother, what did she say? What did she want?" He was still upset that he missed the chance of a lifetime to see his mother.
Simon bit his lip and tapped his foot on the floor anxiously. "She..." he couldn't keep the full story from him, not anymore. "She told me... Your mother wants you to find her killer." he started. "She said something about a Nicodemus, I believe.”
"But the vampires killed her." Baz looked at him. "And who the fuck is Nicodemus?" He asked Simon. He didn't know why his mother said these things. It didn't make sense to him.
Simon shrugged. "I'm just the messenger, I haven't a clue who Nicodemus is. All I know is that your mother said he knows who the killer is." he was trying his best, he even went to the library and looked for anything with the name, but still got nothing.
Baz sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think if the name was familiar in anyway. But he couldn't remember anything. "But I thought it was the vampires... Everyone thought that.. everyone still thinks that, right?" Baz mumbled to himself
Simon chimed into Baz's mumbling. "Well, yes. They say the Humdrum sent them to attack the school." he said. He pondered the idea for a moment. That was the first and only time anyone's ever been killed at the school.
Baz nods "yes... So how can I find the killer if I already know it's the humdrum.... Unless... It wasn't.... Maybe it was someone else..." He said quietly, staring off into space
Simon's eyebrows furrowed. "Someone else? Who else could it be? Who else would bring vampires into the school?" he asked, wondering what Baz was thinking.
Baz bit his lip and shook his head. "I don't know.. I can't think of anyone who'd have a reason to.."
Simon shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, me neither. Did your mother have anyone who had something against her? Any enemies?" Simon asked.
"i-i don't know .. I was so young when she- …when they came..." Baz mumbled, shaking his head
Simon frowned. You'd think seeing Baz like this would make him smile because of the whole 'enemies' thing but it just made him upset. He stood up and put a hand on Baz's shoulder, looking down at him. "Hey, you don't have to think about that now. I'll talk to Penny, she can help us figure this out. For now, just don't worry about it." he said softly.
Baz looked up at him. "You will..?" He looked into his eyes. "Thanks..." He said quietly as he looked down once more. He didn't even know why Simon was agreeing to help him. It made no sense in his mind
Simon kept his hand on Baz's shoulder. "No need to thank me." he smiled softly. Of course he was going to do all he could to help, Baz's mother deserved justice and the monster who set up her murder deserved whatever they got.
Baz looked back at Simon. He smiled a little and nodded slightly. He still didn't know why Simon was helping, but he appreciated it . He really did.
Simon moves away after a short moment of content silence. "We should get some rest, figure this out tomorrow." he said. He was quite worried about Baz's health, he looked like a corpse, so thin and gray. Baz was always gray, just not this pale.
Baz nods. "Yeah.. you're probably right..." He wiped under his eyes. "And Snow? I really appreciate this.. your help I mean.." he said quietly, looking down
Simon nodded his head. "Yeah, of course. You mother did tell all this to me after all." he said. That wasn't really why he was helping Baz. Simon would've helped even if Baz's mother came to Baz himself.
Baz nodded. "Right.. yeah that makes sense.." he gave a small little smile before he closed his eyes, to attempt sleep. He never would've thought that Simon Snow would help him with literally anything. But, here he was. And Baz was grateful for that
Simon didn't say anything after that. He smiled before letting the exhaustion of those late nights searching for Baz catch up to him. He simply closed his eyes, passing out almost instantly into a deep sleep.
Baz laid awake for a couple of minutes before falling asleep quickly due to stress from recent events. It all was dropped on him out of nowhere. Thankfully, he was able to sleep despite the cluttered events and thoughts
Simon woke up to the rays of sunlight that peeked in from behind the curtain. He opened his eyes and yawned before sitting up to stretch.
Baz awoke and immediately pulled the covers over his head. The bright rays of sunshine were a bit blinding. Sunlight didn't actually hurt vampires as much as people thought, but Baz was not a morning person
Simon rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He didn't care what Penny said, he didn't want a haircut. He walked over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for the day.
Baz groaned quietly as he realized that he'd have to get up at some point. He sat up slowly and looked around. He didn't stand up yet and glanced at the bathroom where Simon was. He shook his head and slowly stood up
Simon was brushing his teeth when he looked in the mirror to see Baz was awake. Normally the two wouldn't interact at all, especially in their room in the morning, but now they had to get to finding whoever killed Baz's mother. He finished up whatever he was doing and walked out to the actual room.
Baz looked at Simon once more. But before a few moments he looked away and walked into the bathroom to get ready. Simon went to his wardrobe and picked out his clothes, the same clothes he wore every day. He started to dress while Baz was in the bathroom. Baz had quickly got dressed while he was in the bathroom. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth and looked at himself in the mirror. He hated how sickly he looked. He sighed and left the bathroom
As Simon buttoned his shirt, he felt the floor beneath him shake slightly. Odd, they never got any earthquakes here. It shook again, more violently this time, throwing a few things to the floor. Simon reached for his sword.
Baz stopped and glanced around, slowly grabbing his wand from his back pocket. He looked at Simon, a little curious to see if he knew what was going on
Simon looked back at Baz and shrugged. He made his way over to the window to see if anything was going on out there. And there was. Everyone was holding onto something, but no one could tell what was making the ground shake.
Baz walked up behind Simon and glanced out the window before stepping back a little. "Do you think it might just be a regular earthquake?" Baz asked quietly, although he doubted that to be true
Simon thought that's might be it, but it was weird. "I don't think so," he said, turning his head away from the window and towards Baz. "There's never been an earthquake here, I'm pretty sure the place is spelled against it." he turned back to the window to investigate.
Baz nodded, as that was what he assumed as well. He glanced out the window once more, before glancing around the room. "and you don't see anything suspicious..?" He asked quietly and curiously
Simon shook his head. "I'm looking. It looks like it's coming from the middle of the field over there but, there's nothing there. Maybe it's invisible." he said. He could feel his magic building up inside him. Baz nodded and glanced over at the field, but didn't see anything. He gripped his wand, bracing for the worst.
Simon tried to figure out what he could do. Maybe he could just lock everything in place so it would stop shaking, then maybe whatever it was would go away.
Baz looked around once more, standing still. He had a feeling that whatever was making everything shake, wasn't here to make friends. It was probably here to do quite the opposite
Simon turned to Baz for a second. "I'm gonna try something." he said before turning back to the window. He focused all of his magic on their surroundings, thinking about locking everything in place so it wouldn't shake.
Baz looked back at him, wondering what he was going to do. "Snow, what are you going to do…?" He asked quietly with a slight tone of concern in his voice
Simon kept his focus while talking. "I'm just going to stop everything from moving. Maybe whatever it is will go away when it sees nothing moving anymore." he answered.
Baz bit his lip lightly, wondering if this was a good idea. He eventually shrugged it off and figured Simon couldn't do anything to make it much worse, right?
Simon closed his eyes, keeping in mind exactly what he wanted to do. He pushed out his magic until he felt it was enough, then he opened his eyes and stopped.
Baz looked around. Nothing seemed, different. "Congratulations Snow, I think you successfully didn't blow anything up.." Baz muttered sarcastically, though hoping it was true. Everything stopped shaking and it seemed like whatever it was left.
Simon turned around and looked at Baz with an annoyed look on his face. "Very funny, Baz." he said with a sarcastic laugh. He closed the window and went to finish getting dressed. Baz just shrugged with a small smirk. He put his wand back up before finishing getting ready. He wondered if he could skip breakfast to feed in the catacombs, as he didn't do it last night. But he assumed that Simon would be too suspicious, so he decided against it
Simon finished up quickly, he usually liked to be out the door before Baz rolled out of bed. He reached to pull the door open and it didn't budge. He tried again, pulling harder this time. Baz watched as Simon struggled. He had finished up so he walked a little closer to him but not much
"What're you doing? Did you use too much magic where it weakened your strength or something?" Baz teased, as he tried to think of a logical way of why the door wouldn't open. Simon looked at Baz with an annoyed expression on his face.
"What? No. It just won't open." he said, tugging on the doorknob again. What the hell happened?
Baz rolled his eyes as he walked up behind Simon. "Here, let me try" he stepped up and tried to open the door. His face changed into one of annoyance and aggravation as he tried to force it open once more. "That's weird.." he muttered to himself. He pulled out his wand and pointed it to the door. "Open sesame!" He tried, but nothing happened. He tries the spell again, but still nothing.
Simon looked at the door anxiously. This was most definitely his fault, and he thought Baz might kill him for it. "Let me try it." he said. His magic was stronger, though he couldn't exactly control it too well. He thought maybe because it was him to did this, it had to be him to undo it. Some spells are like that. Baz looked at him and nodded slightly. Of course this was his fault, well at least it's better then being blown up..? He stepped back a little, to allow Snow to try to open it.
Simon channeled a small amount of magic, focused on the door, and cast 'open sesame' on the door. He walked over to it and turned the knob, or at least tried to. Still, nothing happened. He kicked the door, hoping it'd just fly open or something.
Baz rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because kicking the door will do so much more then magic will" he mumbled sarcastically under his breath, before running a hand through his hair and pulling it, slightly frustrated. He sat back on his bed and stared into space, wondering how to get out.
Simon mocked Baz once he knew he wasn't looking at him anymore. He leaned against the door and let himself slide down onto the floor as he thought about what else he could do. Maybe he had to use more magic to open it up. But he didn't want to risk messing up again. Baz laid backwards on his bed and closed his eyes . He doubted that they'd be out of there anytime soon, so why not just relax a little longer? So what if Snow was in the same room, it didn't mean that they had to talk. They ignored each other for the most part all the time. Simon cursed the rule of no electronics, he could really use some sort of distraction. He knew they'd be in there for a while, and he had no problem ignoring Baz when they could freely leave, but now they were going to be stuck there until the door somehow opened.
Baz sighed. He could've done his homework, but he had already finished it. He could've read, but he had finished most of his books. He could've talked to snow, but they hated each other's guts.
Simon straightened out his legs, crossing one over the other, and started fidgeting a bit. The silence was so horrible. Maybe, just maybe, he could talk to Baz, and maybe, just maybe, they might not have to hate each other so much anymore. Simon wasn't one to like having an enemy.
Baz bit his lip. The awkward tenseness was overwhelming. But he couldn't just, say something. Could he? No, he couldn't. He’d just get looked at like he was stupid.
Simon looked at the floor, under his bed, trying to space out so this would be less awkward. It didn't work. He sighed quietly. Baz wouldn't start a conversation, so he had to. "I don't want to hate you." he said, kind of awkwardly.
Baz looked up at him, not sure if he had heard him right. "What?" He asked quietly as his mind swarmed with thoughts. If snow didn't want to hate him then maybe he had a chance- no. Snow was straight. And he probably still liked Agatha.
Simon stood up. "I don't want to hate you," he repeated himself. "I don't want to have you as an enemy." he added on. In all honesty, Simon thought he and Baz would stop their bickering and become friends when they were still young. That never happened, so he took a chance now. He always wanted to be friends with a vampire, even if they did scare him half to death.
Baz sat up, but still sitting on his bed. He looked up at Simon. "I don't want to hate you either.. I don't want to have to fight you in this war.." he said quietly. "But the mage... And my family.. they can't stand each other.. "
Simon walked over to his own bed and sat down, crisscrossing his legs like a child as he faced Baz. "I know. But, we are not our families. I know they don't get along but that doesn't mean we have to be like that too." he said, trying to reason with the circumstance. One less enemy would be nice. One more friend would be even nicer.
Baz nodded. "But what would they say if they knew?" He asked looking at his as he ran a hand through his dark hair. He doubted his family would be happy if they knew. Simon frowned. He hadn't thought about that. He doesn't do much thinking.
"I can't say the mage would be very happy about it, but he can't just tell me not to be your friend. He wouldn't do that. He's not a bad guy." he said. But what would Baz's family say? Could they tell Baz not to be friends with Simon? Did they even have to know?
Baz raised his brows about Simon saying the mage wasn't a bad guy. Now was not the time to argue about that. "Maybe..." He said "maybe we don't have to tell them.. my parents I mean.. just-just in case.. "
"Really?" Simon smiled a bit. "But, you have to promise not to try and kill me again." he said, pointing an accusing finger at Baz.
Baz laughed. "To be fair I was just trying to scare you with the Chimera" he smirked a little. "But, fine. I promise that i won't try to kill you"
Simon looked at Baz skeptically, then softening his expression. He nodded his head before speaking again. "Can I just ask why you didn't like me in the first place?" he asked him.
"well my family hates the mage, and you're basically his heir. " Baz said with a small shrug as he looked at Simon
Simon frowned. "Yeah, but, we were just kids Baz. We didn't care about that stuff at age eleven." he said. At least, he didn't. He didn't really know anything about Baz's childhood.
Baz nodded. "True.. but I guess when I was younger my family just talked a bunch of crap about you and the mage, and it kind of fed into my head. My family probably wouldn't have been proud if I made friends with you, and I didn't want to disappoint them. So I pretended to hate you" he said
Simon looked at Baz. Did he hear that correctly? "Pretended to hate me? Are you telling me you didn't actually hate me?!" he put a lot of emphasis on the word 'pretended'.
Baz could feel his face heat up. If he could, he would be blushing furiously right now. Of course he pretended. He just didn't mean to say it out loud. It slipped out . "I- I didn't mean to say that, it slipped out. Ignore that. " He said quietly and awkwardly. He couldn't imagine how much Simon would tease him if he knew that he was hopelessly in love with him...
Simon blinked out. Baz was stuttering, which meant there was something he wasn't telling him. He was determined to find out what that was. "No, no you said 'pretended'. Why did you pretend? It can't just be your family, they wouldn't know what you did while away from home." he said. He was curious as to what Baz wasn't telling him.
Baz bit his lip lightly. There goes the only card he had. "I-its nothing Snow. I have my reasons.." he said quietly as he avoided eye contact.
Simon grinned. There was definitely something he was trying to hide. "come on Baz! Tell me..." He whined and Baz look at him with a raised brow.
"You're acting like a child."
"Just tell me!"
Baz sighed. "Fine. I technically didn't hate you. But I hated that I didn't hate you. But who could?! Simon, you're the chosen one! The quirky Watford boy whom everyone loves! And I'm- I'm just, not."
Simon looked at him with a frown. He wanted Baz to stop saying these hurtful things about himself. So he did the first thing he could think of. He walked over to Baz and lifted his chin up. He pressed his lips against Baz's. He expected Baz to push him away, but instead he kissed back.
Baz pulled away. "Snow..."
"You called me Simon before,"
"Did not."
Simon raised a brow and Baz sighed. "Simon, why- why did you kiss me..?"
"Why did you kiss back?"
"Because I love you, Simon Snow."
~
A reminder that this was made m o n t h s ago before my writing improved, so it’s not that well-written. 
8 notes · View notes
pipsqueakparker · 4 years
Text
It’s Pride Month! And y’know what else? It’s, uh... well, it was my ‘Snowiversary’. May 22nd marked one year since I started writing & posting dumb words about these stupid-in-love boys, and I hear you, ‘pip literally no one but you cares’ but I do care no matter how dumb that is. So to retroactively celebrate, I’m... gonna re-share a few of my personal favorite fics I wrote over the past year. I’ll just share my top three, so this won’t clog up your dash or anything. 
1.) simon snow’s guide to the perfect pride - my only multi-chapter fic (so far) that’s all about pride! this was one of my first fics, i think literally the third one i wrote, and it’s about the gang (snowbaz + penny & micah, as this was far before WS) going to NYC pride (because i’m self-indulgent) and Simon coming to his own terms with his sexuality, etc. etc. 
Pride parades and festivals weren’t really a thing Simon had ever known much about, much less attended. Mostly due to the whole growing up in foster care, as well as the being pretty sure he was straight for most of his life, and that was all before the Chosen One situation that had occupied his time basically since becoming a cognizant human being. To put it shortly, Simon Snow didn’t know much about Pride month, or the parades, or the festivals. Baz hardly more familiar, his family didn’t really discuss his sexuality, much less offer to drive him out to a huge parade in celebration of it. He knew of it, at least, and was fairly good at keeping up with the news and everything that was happening in the community. He'd still never been to Pride before.
AKA
Simon & Baz Attend their First Pride!
2.) Like & Subscribe - the first fic in my YouTuber AU! Baz is a beauty vlogger, Simon runs a gaming channel, and this is their love story through collabs and unfortunate public events. (or, it will be. this first one focuses on their first collab, but i am working on more to come.) 
Snow shrugs, sat across the table from me, looking devastatingly perfect with his golden curls falling over his forehead and his blue eyes shining in the sun streaming in from behind me. I want to clock him, sometimes, because he’s so beautiful and it’s no wonder he’s got one of the fastest growing channels on YouTube right now. I subscribed solely to look at him.I can’t imagine I’m alone in that.
“Baz?” Snow is waving his hand in front of my face and I realize I’d completely zoned out staring at him. Again. I’ve done that an embarrassing number of times since we started meeting, but I hope he takes me for one of those socially awkward YouTubers and not madly in love with him.
In truth, I’m probably both. But I’m definitely madly in love with him. I just can’t say it, because for all I do know about Simon Snow thanks to his inability to stop running his mouth in front of a camera, I don’t know if he’s queer.
3.) Brought to Heel (Explicit) - my first smut fic if you’re into those, just kinda proud of this one ‘cause i finally pushed myself out of my comfort zone and joined the smut-squad. also, someone needed to write baz in heels and tights. 
Baz is standing in the middle of his room, white shirt hanging loose and open from his shoulders. Seeing Baz undressed shouldn’t still affect me the way that it does, should it? It’s not new anymore, seeing Baz in his pants, but I still feel my face heating up when I walk in on him.
AKA, The One Where Baz Wears Heels and... More (Then Less)
Thank you for your time. 💙 Happy Pride Month my fellow queers, I love you all and I hope to deliver some delicious content for y’all to feast upon this month. 
38 notes · View notes