Sophie

I write fanfiction sometimes. {Follow my main blog: penguinpiebooks} icon by @skitpost!

[penguinpiefics]

12:26am

these late nights get me thinking about who i was, who i am, and who i am supposed to be. and as i sit here on the floor debating whether or not this is all real, debating why i cant feel my arms or legs, i remember sunrises. the bright yellows, the calm oranges, the deep blues and grays. the color mix and blend into each other, differently every day. the sunsets are no different, but the colors are much more rich. there are purples and pinks and reds and blues. no matter how unreal my life seems, no matter how lost i feel, the sun will rise again, and it will set. and that is real.

[snowbazspookyweek]

Welcome to the first ever Snowbaz Spooky Week! In the interest of encouraging more creative content in the fandom we’re hosting a Carry On themed countdown to Halloween! The event will last from Wednesday, October 25th to Tuesday, October 31st and you are encouraged to make edits (no memes please!), create art (digital or traditional), and write fanfiction based on the prompts below:

Day 1: Tricks

Day 2: Treats

Day 3: Scary Movies

Day 4: Pumpkin Carving

Day 5: Haunted House

Day 6: Costumes

Day 7: Halloween Night

Please tag your posts with #snowbaz spooky week or @ this blog so we can find your content, and don’t be afraid to send us any questions you may have. We’re looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with!

-Katie ( @eroticgropefest ) and Ellie ( @bazwillendinflames )

[infinityonhighvevo]

(I don't know if I'm doing this right but) Could you do a snowbaz high school band au? I love your writing so much >.<

this isn’t exactly what I was asking for but this prompt is TOO GOOD to pass up I have been a Band Kid for 5 years I am Fully Qualified

a normal!snowbaz hs band au

genre: fluff!

warnings: i mean, davy is mentioned like once and it’s implied he’s a piece of shit, there’s also swearing? but that’s really it this was a clean fic

words: 1k! they’re getting longer!

hope u enjoy! (as per usual, it’s under a cut)

Keep reading

[femslashy]

the skies above us

written for @alittledizzy as part of @fandomtrumpshate

length: 14.8k

genre(s): fluff+angst

triggers/warnings: implied panic attack/anxiety, canonical character death mentions

Baz and Simon meet in a community center art class and become fast enemies; much to the chagrin of their matchmaking therapist. Over the next few months tensions escalate, paint is thrown, coffee is had, and the two of them learn that there’s more to life than just doing what’s expected of you

playlist | ao3

a/n: bless @cherryonsimon for being the most patient beta and best friend and for staying up until 5am reading this over!! and a huge thank you to all of my friends who listened to me talk about this fic for ages and who offered their support throughout the entire process 💜 (this fic will crash the mobile app so if you’re on your phone i recommend reading on ao3 ^__^)

Simon

“How’ve you been, Simon?”

I shrug, and Ebb writes something down in her notebook. I crane my neck to see what it is, and she pulls it back. Frowning, I lean back on the couch and cross my arms. It’s not like she’s said something bad, it’s just a habit I’d picked up over the years. Being in and out of therapy since you were a child tends to make you curious about what they’re saying about you, especially if their evaluation could determine whether you get shuffled around yet again.

Not like that would actually happen with Ebb, especially since I aged out of the system a while ago, but it’s still a knee-jerk reaction to seeing someone taking down notes about me. Never mind that I’ve been seeing the same therapist for six months; some habits are hard to break.

Ebb is the best person I know, which is probably a weird thing to say about someone you pay to listen to your problems; but when you don’t have a lot of people in your corner, you learn to appreciate the ones who are.

Her office looks nothing like the small cramped rooms of the therapists I’d been sent to when I was a kid. It’s large and airy, with a red couch covered in pillows and crocheted afghans. The walls are completely covered in pictures of people, of places, of things. The first time I’d visited, I’d asked Ebb about her walls, and she’d just laughed and told me it reminded her of her life.

“What about it?” I’d asked.

“That I’ve lived it,” she’d replied and laughed again.

I love Ebb’s laugh. She laughs like everything matters, and it’s nice to hear. Encouraging. It’s one of the many reasons I keep coming back.

She’s still waiting for my answer, but I don’t feel pressured. That’s another thing I like about Ebb: she gets it. She knows that sometimes words are hard for me and that sometimes you just get sad for no real reason.

Ebb lost her brother when she was young. I know this because she accidentally let it slip during a session one day. I felt like a jerk for not comforting her, only watching as she’d wiped her eyes on the cuff of her jumper, but I know she understood.

Other people’s emotions are hard for me to handle, but I’m getting better at it, I think. I should probably ask Penny, considering she’s basically the only person I talk to regularly, now that Agatha’s broken up with me and moved away to the States. To California. To “find herself”, whatever the hell that means.

“I’ve been…okay,” I finally say, and Ebb nods.

“Just okay?”

“Well–,” I pause, “I did have an incident at work…”

Ebb nods, and I take it as encouragement to continue.

“I got fired again.”

“Uh oh,” she says, but not in a way that makes me feel bad.

“I messed up a customer’s drink and got so anxious as I was trying to fix it that I broke the machine.”

She tuts and writes something in her notebook again. My curiosity is too much this time. “What are you writing?”

“Just a reminder,” she replies, “I’ll tell you at the end of the session.”

That doesn’t completely satisfy my curiosity, but I drop the subject anyway.

We spend the rest of the hour discussing my week–what I’ve done, what I haven’t done, what I should be doing,–until the timer on Ebb’s side table beeps and she uncrosses her legs. Her head is bent, and I want to ask what she was going to say before, but she beats me to it.

“Have you thought about taking up a hobby?” she asks, pen still scratching across the paper as she looks up at me.

That’s not what I was expecting. “I mean…” I trail off, trying to remember the last time I’d done anything that could be considered a “hobby”. I play football with friends sometimes, except…except it’s been years since I’ve actually done anything like that. Christ, has it been that long? “It hasn’t exactly been a priority to me.” I say, avoiding Ebb’s inquiring gaze.

“Well, maybe it should be,” she says in a way that makes me think I don’t have a choice in the matter. Maybe that’s a good thing, because I know if I were on my own I’d never push myself to find something.

“Like what?”

“I was thinking something therapeutic. Like… relaxing. Have you ever taken a painting class before?”

“You mean outside school?”

She nods.

“No.”

“Would you be interested in trying one?”

I shrug. Again.

She sets her pen down and tears a page out of her notebook, folds it, and hands it to me. “Here’s the information about the class. You don’t have to attend, but I think It’d be good for you.”

I take the paper, and look at the class name. “Why painting and drawing?”

“Well, Simon, I could list all of the reasons it’s beneficial to your mental health, but that’s boring and you don’t want to hear it. Long story short: it might make you happy and that’s a damn good reason, in my opinion.”

I nod, because I feel like I’m supposed to agree.

We make my next appointment, and as I’m leaving she says, “I really do think this will be good for you, Simon.” It’s like she can tell that I’m considering tossing the number, and I make a firm decision not to.

I wave goodbye and duck out the door, shoving the paper roughly into my jacket pocket. It feels heavier than it should, and I know it’s because I’m overthinking this. (As usual.) I’ll probably feel better once I have more information, but the thought of me enjoying an art class makes me want to laugh. I’m not artistic in any way, and I really don’t have any interest in spending time looking at stupid bowls of fruit, or drawing naked people, or whatever people do in classes like this.

But I’ll do it. For Ebb. (And because maybe she’s right about this. Maybe it will make me happy.)

(Something has to.)

Keep reading

[femslashy]

the skies above us

written for @alittledizzy as part of @fandomtrumpshate

length: 14.8k

genre(s): fluff+angst

triggers/warnings: implied panic attack/anxiety, canonical character death mentions

Baz and Simon meet in a community center art class and become fast enemies; much to the chagrin of their matchmaking therapist. Over the next few months tensions escalate, paint is thrown, coffee is had, and the two of them learn that there’s more to life than just doing what’s expected of you

playlist | ao3

a/n: bless @cherryonsimon for being the most patient beta and best friend and for staying up until 5am reading this over!! and a huge thank you to all of my friends who listened to me talk about this fic for ages and who offered their support throughout the entire process 💜 (this fic will crash the mobile app so if you’re on your phone i recommend reading on ao3 ^__^)

Simon

“How’ve you been, Simon?”

I shrug, and Ebb writes something down in her notebook. I crane my neck to see what it is, and she pulls it back. Frowning, I lean back on the couch and cross my arms. It’s not like she’s said something bad, it’s just a habit I’d picked up over the years. Being in and out of therapy since you were a child tends to make you curious about what they’re saying about you, especially if their evaluation could determine whether you get shuffled around yet again.

Not like that would actually happen with Ebb, especially since I aged out of the system a while ago, but it’s still a knee-jerk reaction to seeing someone taking down notes about me. Never mind that I’ve been seeing the same therapist for six months; some habits are hard to break.

Ebb is the best person I know, which is probably a weird thing to say about someone you pay to listen to your problems; but when you don’t have a lot of people in your corner, you learn to appreciate the ones who are.

Her office looks nothing like the small cramped rooms of the therapists I’d been sent to when I was a kid. It’s large and airy, with a red couch covered in pillows and crocheted afghans. The walls are completely covered in pictures of people, of places, of things. The first time I’d visited, I’d asked Ebb about her walls, and she’d just laughed and told me it reminded her of her life.

“What about it?” I’d asked.

“That I’ve lived it,” she’d replied and laughed again.

I love Ebb’s laugh. She laughs like everything matters, and it’s nice to hear. Encouraging. It’s one of the many reasons I keep coming back.

She’s still waiting for my answer, but I don’t feel pressured. That’s another thing I like about Ebb: she gets it. She knows that sometimes words are hard for me and that sometimes you just get sad for no real reason.

Ebb lost her brother when she was young. I know this because she accidentally let it slip during a session one day. I felt like a jerk for not comforting her, only watching as she’d wiped her eyes on the cuff of her jumper, but I know she understood.

Other people’s emotions are hard for me to handle, but I’m getting better at it, I think. I should probably ask Penny, considering she’s basically the only person I talk to regularly, now that Agatha’s broken up with me and moved away to the States. To California. To “find herself”, whatever the hell that means.

“I’ve been…okay,” I finally say, and Ebb nods.

“Just okay?”

“Well–,” I pause, “I did have an incident at work…”

Ebb nods, and I take it as encouragement to continue.

“I got fired again.”

“Uh oh,” she says, but not in a way that makes me feel bad.

“I messed up a customer’s drink and got so anxious as I was trying to fix it that I broke the machine.”

She tuts and writes something in her notebook again. My curiosity is too much this time. “What are you writing?”

“Just a reminder,” she replies, “I’ll tell you at the end of the session.”

That doesn’t completely satisfy my curiosity, but I drop the subject anyway.

We spend the rest of the hour discussing my week–what I’ve done, what I haven’t done, what I should be doing,–until the timer on Ebb’s side table beeps and she uncrosses her legs. Her head is bent, and I want to ask what she was going to say before, but she beats me to it.

“Have you thought about taking up a hobby?” she asks, pen still scratching across the paper as she looks up at me.

That’s not what I was expecting. “I mean…” I trail off, trying to remember the last time I’d done anything that could be considered a “hobby”. I play football with friends sometimes, except…except it’s been years since I’ve actually done anything like that. Christ, has it been that long? “It hasn’t exactly been a priority to me.” I say, avoiding Ebb’s inquiring gaze.

“Well, maybe it should be,” she says in a way that makes me think I don’t have a choice in the matter. Maybe that’s a good thing, because I know if I were on my own I’d never push myself to find something.

“Like what?”

“I was thinking something therapeutic. Like… relaxing. Have you ever taken a painting class before?”

“You mean outside school?”

She nods.

“No.”

“Would you be interested in trying one?”

I shrug. Again.

She sets her pen down and tears a page out of her notebook, folds it, and hands it to me. “Here’s the information about the class. You don’t have to attend, but I think It’d be good for you.”

I take the paper, and look at the class name. “Why painting and drawing?”

“Well, Simon, I could list all of the reasons it’s beneficial to your mental health, but that’s boring and you don’t want to hear it. Long story short: it might make you happy and that’s a damn good reason, in my opinion.”

I nod, because I feel like I’m supposed to agree.

We make my next appointment, and as I’m leaving she says, “I really do think this will be good for you, Simon.” It’s like she can tell that I’m considering tossing the number, and I make a firm decision not to.

I wave goodbye and duck out the door, shoving the paper roughly into my jacket pocket. It feels heavier than it should, and I know it’s because I’m overthinking this. (As usual.) I’ll probably feel better once I have more information, but the thought of me enjoying an art class makes me want to laugh. I’m not artistic in any way, and I really don’t have any interest in spending time looking at stupid bowls of fruit, or drawing naked people, or whatever people do in classes like this.

But I’ll do it. For Ebb. (And because maybe she’s right about this. Maybe it will make me happy.)

(Something has to.)

Keep reading

[leftyoudreamless]

I 👏love👏this👏

[notahairoutofplacetypical-blog]

drunken snuggles pt. 2

(hi! So yeah, this is pt. 2 to drunken snuggles.  I kinda had it planned out after writing the first part, but thanks to @mnerd63 for motivating me to finish the scene.  Don’t ask why I chose for simon to have a M.I.A. poster ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyways… thanks for reading ^.^)

read pt. 1 here 

SIMON

 I’m woken up because I’m overheating.  I groan and nearly beginning kicking out of bed when I realize I’m not hot because Baz closed the window in the middle of the night again and that last night wasn’t a dream.  Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is snuggling with me.

           And apparently I snuggled back because I’m no longer facing the wall that holds my old M.I.A. poster that I put up in second year. Instead I am restricted in a death grip in Baz’s arms.  

           And that’s when I realize that I’m not only pressed against Baz Pitch.  But I pressed against a naked Baz Pitch.

           I inhale his scent—musky and the faint smell of alcohol from his drunken night—and almost decide to stay put because I never get to be this close to Baz without it coming to blows, but I’m about to die from the heat.  (How can snuggling with a vampire be so damn hot?)

           I start to shift to wiggle out of Baz’s arms—I stop suddenly because 1. his damn vampire strength has me bound to him 2. fuck, he smells good and 3. I have fucking morning wood?

           I groan again.  How embarrassing.  Now his going to wake up and not only kick my ass for letting him crawl into bed with me, but he’s going to give me hell because I’m turn on right now?

           I cut off my groan because Baz shifts in his sleep. I pause and watch his face.  For about the billionth time since first year a pain darts through because why the fuck is he so handsome?

           And that’s when his eyes snap open as if he’d be drenched with water.

BAZ

I have this uncanny ability to know when Snow is starring at me.  Unfortunately, all this superpower does is cause me pain. And right now is no exception.

           Since I know he saw my eyes open, I have no excuse for maintain my vice grip on him crushing him to me.  So, I do what any rational person would do.

           I jump off the bed and push him toward the wall at the same time.  Of course, my still exhausted and hungover self doesn’t have the best reaction time so I get tangled in Snow’s mess of sheets and crash to the floor between our beds. Smooth.

           “I—I—“

           I glare down at Snow and his mouth snaps shut and his eyes are starring anywhere but at me.  My gaze threatens to soften when I see how hurt he seems from the way I woke up.

           The moron doesn’t even take advantage of my waking up disaster that just happened.

           “Snow.” I sneer.  It comes out accusatory.  As if he dragged me into his bed and I didn’t stubble into it like a drunken fool.

           His eyes shrink to slits, “You called me Simon last night.”  He says it proud and a little smug.

           Instead of throwing a biting remark, I begin stripping his sheets off me.  Which is when I find that underneath Simon fucking Snow’s sheets I am naked.  My glance shoots to the laundry hamper where my evidently hammered ass had stripped the night before.

           FUCK ME.

           I grab the sheet back and begin to recover myself when Snow grabs the corner closest to him and tugs it.  Hard.

           I haven’t drunk anything but some hard liquor in the past two days, but I swear that doesn’t keep me from blushing as I stand naked before Simon fucking Snow who grins at me like the Cheshire Cat.

           “Looks like I’m not the only one who woke up with morning wood.”

           And the bastard not only says it without sputtering, but he climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom all while maintaining that grin.

[sncwbaz]

hurt tonight.

baz feels empty sometimes.  i got inspired for this fic by listening to let’s hurt tonight by one republic. the lyrics of the song don’t really have that much in common with the fic, it’s more the feel of the song that inspired me. 

word count: 2k

[Bunce]

Baz hadn’t been over for a few days. When Penny thought of it she realised it must have been at least a week since she’d seen Baz in the flat. Being busy with her homework had kept her ignorant to this, but now it was weekend and Simon was alone in his room. It was… strange. Baz often couldn’t stay away for longer than two days and the two of them barley ever spent time at Baz’ place.

Penny wondered if they might were in a fight. Even more so, she wondered if she should get involved with whatever was going on between the two of them or not. Her instant response to that would have been no, she was not involving herself in their problems. Though, after she’d thought it over again, she cared a lot more about their relationship than she would have preferred. They were both her friends—and she did not have many more friends besides the two of them—which meant she wished them the best they could have. Especially after all that Simon and Baz had already endured.

After a few moments lost in thought she decided that just asking Simon about it was the least she could do. Offering herself as a supportive listener was different from involving herself in their problems, she told herself.

“Come in,” said Simon shortly after Penny had knocked on his bedroom door.

She walked into his bedroom and saw Simon slouched on his bed with his laptop resting on his lap. He seemed relaxed, probably too relaxed for him to be in a fight with his boyfriend. Simon didn’t hide his emotions very well, you could basically feel any emotion radiating from him. Penny realised she would have known from more than just Baz’ absence if Simon and Baz had been in a fight. So… they weren’t in a fight?

“Baz hasn’t been around for a while. Why isn’t he here tonight? It’s weekend,” Penny asked, unable to keep the curiosity inside her.

Simon shrugged. “He’s been sick the last few days.”

Penny frowned at that. “But, Simon, he’s a vampire.”

Simon copied her frown. “I know… I guess it’s sick as in not feeling well. A vampire can still not feel well right?”

“Probably.”

“Yeah.”

“But,” Penny was still a bit confused about it all, “you don’t know anything more than that? What did he tell you exactly.”

“He said he wasn’t coming by because he wasn’t feeling well.”

“You didn’t ask him what was going on?” Penny asked.

Simon stared at her for a little while. “Should I have?”

“Didn’t you want to know?”

Simon shrugged again. “What difference would it have made?”

“You would have known.” And maybe he needs you, she thought, though she quickly argued herself on that. Baz knew Simon and knew the way Simon worked. If Baz was in need of Simon he should’ve told Simon. You couldn’t expect from Simon to read everything between the lines.

“I guess I would have, but knowing he isn’t feeling well seemed like enough information. I told him I’ll wait for him until he feels better.”

“Maybe you could visit him. Don’t you miss him?” Penny pushed.

“I could,” Simon said and became quiet for a bit. “What if he just wants rest, Penny? He didn’t tell me to come visit him.”

“Did he tell you not to come?”

“… No.”

“You could just text him and ask him if he’d like you to visit him,” Penny encouraged him. Penny felt a little ridiculous for having to help Simon this way, but she knew that sometimes Simon just needed a bit of guidance onto the right path.

Simon nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” Penny said in satisfaction and she left his room.

A few minutes later Simon was at her bedroom door to let her know that he was going over to Baz’ place. Penny smiled to herself whilst shaking her head slightly. The two of them were a piece of work.

Keep reading

[snowkatze]

Bittersweet Death

@snowbaz-feda Prompt: ‘Are you drunk?’ Genre: fluff Word count: 2225 Summary: Simon comes home late one night and lays himself next to Baz in bed. He says things, but Baz is sure he’ll regret it the next day.

Baz When I come back from hunting, Simon isn’t there, which is unusual. I wonder whether he’s followed me again, but I didn’t notice anything. (Also, he hasn’t followed me for a few months now. I was glad about the break, but I still don’t really get why.)

Sometimes, he makes me feel like I’m suffocating. Sometimes, I feel like I’m drowning in a pit of despair. (And it’s not just because I’m being dramatic – there are moments when it feels like I’m going to die of the pain, of the longing.)

But tonight, he’s not here. (I’m torn between missing him and relief. It’s torture being in love with your enemy.)

I lay down and stare at the empty bed beside me. The stars shine brightly tonight and I can hear the wind rustling against the window. I wonder what he’s up to at this time of the day. (Probably with Wellbelove.)

Suddenly I hear something crashing against the door and jolt. Is this him? (He’s clumsy, but not even he would make this much noise so late at night.)

It must be somebody who lives inside the Mummer’s house. I hear some metal clashing together (keys?) and somebody swearing. Maybe it is Simon after all?

Whoever it is, he gets the door open and stumbles in. I can only see his slumped shape, his head hanging low. What’s wrong with him?

He slams the door shut behind him and I wonder whether he’s angry. (At me? I wouldn’t know why, but that says nothing.)

For a moment, he just stand there in the middle of the room. He stares at the ground and I stare at him. Then he lifts his head and his gaze meets mine. The moonlight reflects in his eyes. He makes a step forward and his lips curl into a smile. (Mood swings?)

‘Baz,’ he whispers, and he sounds high. And then he giggles. (Crowley. Giggles.)

Keep reading

[wematch]

Is this real?

Simon gets the surprise of his life when his roommate, Baz, asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend. Everything is going according to plan until the line of what’s real and what isn’t starts to blur, and they both have to make a decision.

For @snowbaz-feda

Also many thanks to @eroticgropefest for the beta!!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

Part 4 - Late night talks

Baz

When we’re in our bedroom we don’t pretend to be together, but sometimes I wish we did. That way, I could fool myself into thinking that this was real. But nothing is the same anymore, even here.

Sharing a room with the person you want most, while pretending to be his boyfriend, is torture. Every small touch feels like it’s going to turn me into ashes. And now, fucking Snow is sitting in my bed, with one of my pillows behind his back.

“I said we needed to talk after my shower, you didn’t have to wait in my bed Snow.“

He just shrugs “If I waited in my bed, I would be asleep already.”

I decide to sit next to him. “In light of something that is going to happen tomorrow, I feel the need to explain why I asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend.“

“What is going to happen tomorrow?”

“My father will be here to oversee the new school program for next year. Every year a member of the old families does it, and this year will be him.”

We’re both looking outside through the window now, looking at the night sky. “I won’t be seeing him much, but I need you to come with me when I do.”

“Oh…right” I’m not looking at him, but I can tell that he’s not comfortable with the idea.

“Snow… ” I say quietly, “ he’s the reason we made this deal, I need him to accept me for who I am…” I struggle to continue.

“A vampire?”

“No. Yes, that too. ” Snow turns to me then, but I ignore him. “I’m gay, and I’m fucking tired of him pretending that he doesn’t know, like it’s something that you can just wash away.“

He doesn’t say anything for awhile but he grabs my hand and squeezes it. It’s enough to make me relax. “I’m sorry that your father doesn’t accept you for who you are.”

I don’t know how long it’s been, but Simon falls asleep with his head on my shoulder. The last thing I want to do is move, but I need to feed, so I gently try to lay him down on the bed.

When I’m about to leave the room, he opens one eye and mumbles, “Yeah Baz… you should feed… so that you can kiss my neck, and I don’t have to worry about it, ” and gives me a sleepy smile.

I roll my eyes, “You’re an idiot, Snow,” but I can’t help but grin at him too.

(see my snowbaz fic masterlist)

[snowkatze]

A Monster’s Gentle Soul

Simon loses all memory of Baz. Baz wants to keep an eye on him, so he moves in as his new neighbor. And just like that, they fall in love all over again.

This is it. I finished it. Thank you so much if you’ve read this and even more if you responded to it in any way ♥ I hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Epilogue

Epilogue

It was cold down in the catacombs. It never used to bother Baz before, but he wasn’t used to it any more. A small flame hovered above Baz’ palm, the only source of light in the gloomy room. It had been a while, but he found his destination easily.

In the midst of many, many skulls, there was her grave. He placed a single white rose in front of it, spelling it to preserve longer. (White roses, the flower of death.)

‘I’ve come here so often,’ Baz began. 'Telling you how sorry I am.’

He took a deep breath.

'And I guess there are many things I should apologize for. The way I treated Simon a long time, for example. But that’s not what I did when I came here. I apologized for being a vampire, and gay, and in love with 'the enemy’, and a constant disappointment. Not only to you. To myself.’

Baz sat down on the cold stone ground. He felt tired and nostalgia was tugging in his chest.

'I used to tell you that I miss you. And I do. I wish you hadn’t killed yourself when I was five years old. I mean, I understand, but… I needed you. I made it on my own, but it was hard, and it was rough, and… I could’ve used some help. Ha. Guess you gave that to me at last.’

Baz closed his eyes and let silence fall over him, before he spoke up again.

'And I’ve realized some things. I think… that, maybe, you wouldn’t have wanted me dead. And perhaps it doesn’t matter. Because I’m happy now. Truly. There was a time when I thought that things would never change… When I thought that I would die feeling like this. I thought I’d die unloved, and in shame, killed by Simon Snow, at a very young age. But I didn’t. I survived. And I think I can take the rest of it as well. I came here to tell you, I love you. And I’m not sorry any more.’

Baz stood up again.

'I won’t apologize for who I am. Thank you for reminding me of that. My name is Baz Pitch. And I’m proud of who I am.’

And then he went away, leaving the rose behind and with it all memories he had to this place.

Simon was waiting for him outside the gates. He stood there staring at Watford, the evening sun making it seem red. It wasn’t until Baz laid a hand on Simon’s shoulder that he seemed to realize his presence.

'Are you alright?’ Baz asked concerned.

’Magic separates us from the world,’ Simon said. ’May nothing separate us from each other. And now is separates you not only from the world but also from me.’

'I’m sorry, Simon, I shouldn’t have brought you here.’

'No, it’s fine. I’ve missed it. This is the only place where I ever used to feel home.’

'Even with me as your room mate?’

'Yeah,’ Simon smiled. 'You’re home to me.’

'Cut it out, you sap,’ Baz said but inside he got a fuzzy warm feeling. 'Let’s go back,’ Simon added. 'Penny said she was going to make cookies.’

They smiled and started to walk down the path. Simon lightly took Baz’ hand in his.

'I love you, you know?’

'Yeah, love you, too,’ Baz whispered absentmindedly.

'No,’ Simon said and stopped walking. He grabbed Baz’ shoulder to make him look at him. He held his gaze as he said: 'I love you.’

Baz’ smile widened.

'I love you, too, Simon,’ he said and kissed him gently. A weird feeling crept up in his chest. What is that, he thought. Apparently, he didn’t lie to his mother’s grave. Happiness. That’s what they call it.

Simon grinned at him broadly and Baz’ heart was beating fast. This was it. Yes, he thought. He had gotten lucky. This was what the universe had given him eventually.

He squeezed Simon’s hand and looked up at the sky, where the light moon appeared.

He could almost hear his mother’s words. 'It’s okay, little puff.’

Yes, mom. It’s okay now and I think I deserve a happy ending.

He looked at Simon’s smiling face once again, his moles, his hair, and his stupidly blue eyes and he knew that he got it.

[theweasleysredhair]

Prompts List

I’ve made a prompts list! (Some are not mine and I give credit to those who made them.) Send an ask with the number(s) and the character/ship you want! (For short drabbles/blurbs) x

1. “Please don’t leave me.” 2. “Are you kidding me right now?!” 3. “I’m going to kill you!” 4. “You did all of this for me?” 5. “I made my baby cry!” 6. “I’m in love with you.” 7. “Can I kiss you?” 8. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” 9. “Will you be quiet?!” 10. “You are a bloody idiot, you know that?” 11. “You love me.” 12. “He’s dead.” 13. “I hate you so much I love you.” 14. “Just leave me alone!” 15. “I can’t believe you just did that.” 16. “Give me a reason not to turn around and walk away now.” 17. “Please.” 18. “Cuddle me.” 19. "Give me that back!” 20. "I’m pregnant.” 21. "Are you scared?” 22. "What are you doing?” 23. "If we get caught I’m blaming you.” 24. "Are you drunk?” 25. "Shut up and kiss me.” 26. "Help me I’m stuck.” 27. "What am I going to do with you?” 28. "Stop distracting me!” 29. "You said my name in your sleep.” 30. "Yes.” 31. "Are you jealous?” 32. "Trust me.” 33. "Bite me.” “If you insist.” 34. "I made a mistake.” 35. "It’s been a while.” “Too long.” 36. "I don’t love you anymore!” 37. "You’re lying.” 38. "I’m going to regret this.” 39. "Do that again.” 40. "I’m running away.” 41. "I need your help.” 42. "If I die I’m going to come back and haunt you.” 43. "Well this is a surprise.” 44. "Am I dreaming?” 45. "Make me.” 46. "If they find out, I’ll kill myself and then you.” 47. "Why? Just… why?” 48. "Stop it.” 49. "We’re just friends.” 50. "Did you just flick me?” 51. "Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?” 52. "I got you a present.” 53. "Sit in my lap.” 54. "I think I forgot how to breathe.” 55. "Woah.” 56. "What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven?” 57. "You don’t understand, you never do!” 58. "You look cute with a baby bump!” 59. "It’s all your fault!” 60. "Well that’s just great.” 61. "Are you even listening?” 62. "I’m going to walk away and pretend I didn’t see anything.” 63. "I thought you loved her.” 64. "Time changes people.” 65. "You, my friend, are a complete and utter tosser.” 66. "You should be nice to me, I just saved your life!” 67. "Don’t you just love it!” 68. "It bit me!” 69. "You have approximately 5 seconds to get out of my face before I kill you.” 70. "Did you buy me… lingerie?” 71. "Oh yeah, because you’d be so good at this!” 72. "I’m sorry.” 73. "That night never happened!” 74. "You should marry me.” 75. "Aren’t you just a cutie pie!” 76. "Don’t you dare!” 77. "Um.. somebody broke that.” 78. "Stop biting that fucking lip!” 79. "You’re hot, shame about the personality.” 80. "You’re going to get us expelled!” 81. "I need you to fake date me.” 82. "My back’s a bit sore from when you stabbed me with your knife.” 83. “You’re just leaving me here? At least have to decency to finish me off with a stick.” 84. "No, I didn’t murder them. I accidentally knocked them unconscious forever, that’s all.” 85. "Wow thanks a lot.” 86. "Why are you walking around naked?” 87. "You owe me big time!” 88. "Awe it’s so cute!” 89. "Are you hitting on me?” 90. "If I die you’ll be sorry!” 91. "Help me hide!” 92. "Sometimes I really don’t like you.” 93. "You’re crazy! You’re out of your mind!” 94. "Ow! Ow! Stop hitting me!” 95. "I don’t know how you convinced me to do this.” 96. "Is that… is that my bra?” 97. "Really? Right now?” 98. "Where are your pants?” 99. "I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.” 100. ”You’re my soulmate?!”

[snowkatze]

A Monster’s Gentle Soul

Simon loses all memory of Baz. Baz wants to keep an eye on him, so he moves in as his new neighbor. And just like that, they fall in love all over again.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven

This is the last chapter, but there will be an epilogue :)

8. Chapter

Hours passed as they were clutching onto each other until finally Simon uttered a single word. ‘No.’

'What?’ He had thought about it for a long time – everything that had happened, and his answer was simple.

'No.’

'What do you mean?’

'I’ve lost my memory. You’ve sold your soul to the devil. That sounds weird to me. There is no devil, is there?’

'How else would he have wiped your memory? Or, more specifically, the memory of me?’

'I don’t know, but I know that I won’t believe it until he proves it to me. I don’t know this kind of magic and – and – this guy can fight me!’ 'No, Simon, I’m afraid he will do something…’

'He’ll be up for a little talk, won’t he?’ 'But I don’t know where to find him -’

'No. That’s the answer. No, we’re not giving up. I’m going to get my memory back. We’re going to find out what’s behind this. Because you know what? I’m angry. And you know what that means?’

'What?’

'Whoever that guy is – he should be afraid.’

Shortly after dawn arrived, they went to the bar where Baz had met him. To do questioning, to get clues. What they didn’t expect was for him to sit there, sipping on his drink. Baz carefully grasped Simon’s hand.

'That’s him,’ he hissed.

'What the fuck,’ Simon whispered back. 'He looks ridiculous. What kind of devil dresses like that?’

'You’ve met many devils?’

'No?’

'Then shut up.’

Baz straightened his back and Simon could tell he was nervous, but Baz did what he always did when he was in a situation of danger. (Simon knew that – he knew it, but he couldn’t remember why.) Baz’ face went void of all emotion, and instead he put on a sneer. He looked as though nothing could harm him.

Gracefully (Simon couldn’t have described it with another word), slid in the seat beside the guy with the blue hair. Simon stumbled into the seat next to him. (He wished he had his sword with him. Or his magic. No. Not his magic. He didn’t want to go off. He just wished he could do something. He felt like he was all talk and no actions – but that wasn’t true. He would do whatever was necessary.)

'You’re a local?’ Baz started and the guy smirked at him. He didn’t seem surprised at all. Simon wondered whether he had seen them coming in through the door. 'No,’ he answered. 'I’ve come here every day for the last few weeks. I’ve been waiting.’ 'For what?’ 'You. You took awfully long.’

'Why?’

'The curse didn’t work as well for you as you imagined, did it?’

'No.’ Baz’ grabbed Simon’s hand a little tighter.

'And now you want me to reverse it again, right?’

Baz nodded.

'So what would you do if I told you that I wasn’t able to do that?’

Baz’ eyes widened for a moment, and the guy laughed. 'Nah, mate. I’m just pulling your leg. Of course I can reverse it.’ 'And are you going to?’

'Yes.’

'And what do you want in return?’

'Nothing.’ 'Yeah, but why am I having trouble to believe that?’ 'I don’t know.’

'Why would a devil just - ’

'Devil?’

The guy laughed again. It just sounded amused. 'You didn’t really believe that, did you? Do I look like a devil to you?’

Baz growled inwardly, but urged himself to stay calm. 'But then why did you do it? Do you just like playing games, or what?’

There was a line on his forehead that appeared when he frowned. Now the guy in front of him went serious. 'A friend of mine asked me to do it. I owed it to her.’ 'Why? Why would anybody want to do that to me?’

'She wanted to save you, Baz. She wanted to save you from yourself. I knew you wouldn’t believe me until you saw for yourself. She… She wanted you to know. That you deserve to be loved. That you are not a monster. She wanted me to tell you… She’s sorry. She was afraid. She thought it was the right thing to do. But she knows that you are enough, as you are. She’s proud of you.’ Baz’ gaze was twitching. 'Who?’ he whispered. 'Don’t worry, Baz. Tomorrow, Simon will remember everything. There’s no catch. You will never see me again. She wants you to be happy. Please, if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for her.’ The guy put a few notes on the counter and stood up. 'Good bye, brave vampire boy.’

'Who?’

Baz said it louder this time and his voice was shaking. 'Tell me who!’ 'Your mother really loved you.’ Baz drew back at these words, paling. 'My mother is dead,’ he whispered, eyes wide in shock. 'I know,’ the guy smiled sadly. 'But the dead come back sometimes – when something is hunting them.’ 'That’s not possible! How would you – how would she -’

'I’m not human, Baz. And there are a lot of things you don’t know about her. Your mother hung the moon, remember?’

And with that he left, not turning back. Baz started crying and Simon held him, kissing away his tears.

'It’s alright, Baz,’ he murmured. 'You believe him?’

'I think so, yes. I see no reason why he would be lying.’

'Yeah… that – that’s true… But she… why…’ 'It’s going to be alright, Baz. I remember, vaguely, of that night in the fire. I remember what you told me. You were wrong all along. I have no idea how she did it – but she knows about you. And she wants you to be safe.’ 'But – all these years, I believed – I believed – How can I just stop believing now?’ 'You will. You’re a Pitch. You’re made of fire – you’re so strong.’

Baz was sobbing and Simon stroked his back. 'It’s okay,’ Simon said. And it was going to be.

[shy-lian]

if ur lgbtq+ reblog this with what you dip ur fries in

[bruhitsbicc]

I’ll intrigued

[suspiciousgay]

did did you say milkshakes

[bruhitsbicc]

MUSTARD WTF ARE YOU OKAY

[suspiciousgay]

I SAW MILKSHAKES IN GD TAG AND I WAS LIKE WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU

[comicsandshoes]

Just ketchup? I’m so lame

[andonewillbringhisfall]

Mine

For @snowbaz-feda day 26. More fluff! Yay.

After a long day of study, when Simon is on his way home and he’s too tired to think of anything except his boyfriend’s name on repeat (as if it’s still fifth year and he’s still following his every move), he runs into the flat and collapses on the couch and stays there, eyes closed, until he finally hears footsteps outside the door. Sometimes it’s Penny, and she’ll tease him about his lack of enthusiasm when she walks through the door (she knows he’s happy to see her, she just isn’t the one he’s been thinking about all day). When Baz walks in, if he doesn’t come straight over to the couch, Simon will jump up and wrap his arms around his boyfriend, sighing happily and breathing in the all-too-familiar smell of cedar and bergamot.

‘Mine,’ he sighs, reaching up for a kiss, and it makes Baz’s heart flutter every time.

He says it a lot. Sometimes it’s soft and romantic, whispered at the end of a long night of study when they’re cuddling on the couch, or mumbled into Baz’s chest after a few hours apart (Simon always acts like it’s been so long since they saw each other, and Baz rolls his eyes, but of course he loves it).

Other times it’s when Baz is talking to someone from one of his classes, some cute boy in nice clothes who wears glasses and is clearly so much more fucking smart and interesting than Simon. He’s well-adjusted and normal (and Normal), without massive wings on his back that get in the way and have destroyed more coffee cups than Simon can count. Simon goes to meet Baz because they’ve planned to go get coffee together and finds him talking to this guy, gives him one quick look and strides right over to Baz, wrapping his arms around his waist and saying, a little louder than necessary, ‘mine.’

Baz wants to tease Simon for being jealous (and he can’t deny that it gives him a little thrill every time), but he’s not sure how Simon would react, so instead he takes him to the café and buys him scones and kisses the crumbs from the corner of his mouth. They go home together and Baz holds him close and he shows Simon, as well as he knows how, just how much of an idiot he’s being if he thinks he has any reason to be jealous.

The first time they sleep together and Simon whispers ‘mine’ into Baz’s neck, Baz feels like he’s going to lose it. The second time is no different. After the third time, Baz has to ask him why he keeps saying it.

Simon, in his typical manner, shrugs.

‘Are you saying it to remind me?’ Baz says.

‘No. Does it bother you?’

Baz smiles. ‘No. It drives me fucking crazy.’

Simon frowns, turning his head towards Baz. ‘So… yes?’

‘No, Simon. I love it.’

‘I guess…’ He thinks about it, lifting his hand to lightly trace patterns across Baz’s chest, right over his heart. Baz sighs and closes his eyes, but Simon doesn’t notice. ‘I guess I just like saying it. Still can’t believe my luck, sometimes,’ he mumbles, smiling bashfully.

At this, Baz opens his eyes and turns his head, raising one eyebrow.

‘You,’ he says. ‘You can’t believe your luck.’

Simon grins. (Crowley, he’s supposed to have lost everything, but he’s so happy sometimes.) He moves closer (slowly, and this time he knows exactly what he’s doing), and just before their lips brush, he whispers,

‘mine.’

[penguinpiefics]

this is so cute i love it

[penguinpiefics]

The Monster Under My Bed

AU where there is no magic, Simon still has his parents (Davy and Lucy) and Baz in the moster that lives under his bed. Simon is young, only about 11 years old.

Simon

I was home alone for the first time. Mommy couldn’t find a baby sitter but daddy didn’t want to cancel their plans for tonight, so they left me alone. They made sure I was okay and I really was. I told them I had Bazzy with me. They think he’s my imaginary friend, but he isn’t imaginary at all. He’s real.

I was asleep when it happened. The alarm suddenly went off and then turned off almost as fast. I sat up in bed, terrified, when I heard voices from the hallway.

“No one is home, they have date night tonight. I made sure they were gone, trust me. No one will find us, it’s fine, Ag,” one of them said. It’s a girl, I think. I pull the covers off of me.

“Oh, shut up, Pen. You’re just making me even more nervous. I’ve never broken into someone’s house before!” It’s another girl. I get off my bed. The flood creaks loudly.

“Did you hear that?”

I lay down slowly and begin to inch under the bed. I don’t think Baz is here, but I know how to get him here.

“Baz!” I whisper. Nothing. “Baz!”

“It was nothing, Agatha, don’t be all anxious. We just need to find something expensive, maybe some money, and get out!”

Baz is suddenly right next to me. His skin looks even darker in the night and his mouth is full. His fangs are out. He smiles at me.

“Don’t talk,” I mouth to him. He nods and looks out from under my bed. I grab his hand and he smiles even bigger.

“Penny, the noise came form this room,” Agatha said. She was standing right outside my door and I got even more scared. What if they find me?

“We’re not doing anything until Dev and Niall get here. They’ve done this so many times so we’ll be fine once they are here.”

Baz’s eyebrows scrunch together. “No one is going to hurt you or steal anything from you. I promise,” he whispered. The voices drifted away and he and Baz waited under his bed.

“What are you going to?” I asked him quietly.

“Whatever I do, don’t get scared, okay? I’m just going to try to scares them,” he whispered back.

“You’ve never scared me, Bazzy,” I muttered. I squeezed his hand and he began to wiggle out from under my bed. The thing with Baz is that he is silent all the time and he can see really well in the dark. I loved it. Almost every night before I go to bed he comes out and we just sit on my bed and talk. Sometimes I go under the bed with him, but I fell asleep once and my parents thought I had been kidnapped in the middle of the night, so we don’t do that anymore. Even while I am under here now I’m afraid I might fall asleep.

Baz walks out of my room and I hear him growling from outside my door.

“What was that?!”

“Agatha, stop, there’s nothing there!”

Baz laughed. It was creepy.

“Wait, what the hell? Who was that?”

“I told you there was something!”

Baz got his creepy voice, it was smooth and entrancing. He only used this on me once, when we first met, but after it didn’t scare me any. “There certainly is something. Something indeed,” he laughed again.

“Penny, can we go?” Agatha cried.

“Go? Oh, don’t leave! I just got here,” Baz crooned. “Let’s have some fun.” I could almost hear his smirk.

“Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here, I don’t want to be here anymore!” Penny yelled. And then she screamed. “What the fuck are you?!”

“I’m me,” Baz snarled.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”

“Oh, I’m not holy. In fact, I’m the opposite. Time for fun?” Baz was getting loud. His voice was travelling from wherever they were in the house to my room. I just wanted him to get them out and come back.

“Baz,” I whispered.

“Leave!” Baz screamed. He must’ve done something scary, because the two girls screamed and there was some crashing before I heard a door slam. I heard someone walking towards my room, and despite knowing it was Baz, I cowered under my bed.

“Simon?” Baz whispered as he entered my room. “Are you okay?”

I peeked out from where I hid and his eyes found me and held something I didn’t recognize.

“Oh, Simon. Come on out, we can lay down on your bed and sleep, yeah?” Baz murmured. I crawled out from under the bed and hugged him around his waist.

“Thank you,” I spoke into his shoulder.

“It was nothing, really. I’m just glad you’re okay. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

I shook my head and pulled away. “Can you stay with me until my parents get back? And then once they check on me can you come back?”

He smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

He climbed into my bed with me and he stroked my hair as I fell asleep. He was warm and his skin had goosebumps on it where I touched him. I giggled softly.

“G’night, Bazzy,” I breathed.

“Sleep well, Simon. Sleep well.”

So I got this prompt from @writing-prompt-s “A child is home alone when their house is broken into. Alone, except for the monster under their bed.” I really liked the idea of Simon as a little kid with Baz as his “monster” (even though Baz is in no way a monster, he’s an adorable little muffin actually) and this was the result of all of that!

Enjoy!

[carry-on-kissing-snowbaz]

Sore Loser (Carry On Countdown Dec 19th)

This is a fifth year fic where Baz doesn’t realize yet that he’s in love with Simon, bUT HE’S ABOUT TO! @carryon-countdown

Simon

Simon didn’t really have time for this. Sweat was pouring down his back as he shifted the ball from foot to foot. The Mage was probably looking for him, or maybe the humdrum, well something was probably looking for him. He kicked the ball swiftly to Gareth. He knew he had responsibilities, but he couldn’t back down from a challenge, especially not by Baz. His roommate had bet that Simon couldn’t beat him and his friends at a game of football. They hadn’t really decided on a prize, honestly Simon knew he just wanted an excuse to show off in front of Baz. Maybe it would knock down the vampire’s confidence a bit to see him win. Simon watched as Gareth made the goal and smiled arrogantly. He knew that Gareth would make a good teammate. He glanced over at Baz who looked furious and waved at him. Baz sneered and him whipped his hair out of his eyes. The other boys on both teams were staring at the both of them warily. Dev was the first to speak. “Maybe we should end it here guys.” Simon growled. “No way, we’re not leaving this at a tie.” Baz grinned viciously. “Agreed Snow, next goal wins the game?” Simon didn’t respond, he just took his next position. After everyone got ready to play again he glanced at Baz. He looked far too attractive to be fair in his football clothes; even sweating there was something coolly attractive about him. Not that it mattered, Agatha wasn’t here to see him, but Simon was still uncomfortable. Baz exploded onto the field, kicking the ball in an intricate line towards the goal. Simon rushed to keep up and managed to get in his space. Before he could do anything however, Baz threw his elbow swiftly into Simon’s ribcage. The pain sent him to his knees and gave him a depressing view of Baz kicking the ball into the goal. He groaned and grabbed at his side. Did he break any bones? He wondered to himself. The rest of the guys clapped each other on the backs and left the field, most of them glancing back at Simon and Baz nervously. When it was just the two of them Baz strolled over and smirked high above him. “You all right Snow?” Simon wanted to wrap his hands around Baz’s throat, to drag his nails down Baz’s stupidly perfect back. More than anything he wanted to get his hands on Baz and not let him go. He was furious, confused, and sick of Baz’s perfectness. “Fuck you,” He growled. He stood up and swung.

Baz

Baz knew it was stupid to taunt Snow like he was. The elbow he’d thrown during the game had admittedly been a bit over the top, but there was no way he would let the prat win the game. He smirked at Snow on his knees in pain below him. There was something about Snow’s flushed cheeks and sweat plastered curls that made Baz nervous but he didn’t want to analyze that too much at the moment. “You all right Snow?” “Fuck you.” He watched Snow’s magic burn and blur his body. Baz worried for a moment that Snow might actually go off. Instead he stood and punched him directly in the jaw. Baz felt his teeth clack uncomfortably as his head whipped to the side from the blow. He should’ve seen it coming, but he had been too concerned about Snow going off. He turned to glare at him. “Sore loser much?” Without warning Baz kneed Snow in the stomach. He was surprised when Snow blocked the shot and threw him to the ground. Baz scooted backwards on the grass, trying to get some distance. There was blood in his mouth and sun in his eyes, he felt like he was having a sensory overload. Snow crawled on top of him and trapped him on the ground. Baz’s body was responding strangely, his muscles tightening and his gut burning. Snow’s face was a twist of fury. “You winning now Baz?” He spat out. Baz spit on Snow’s face. “Fight me or get off Snow.” Snow winced as the spit hit his cheek. Baz noted that it was pink, confirming his suspicion that his mouth was bleeding. Snow grabbed Baz’s wrists roughly and leaned in, snarling almost like an animal. “Don’t fucking push me Baz.” Baz felt kind of dizzy with Snow this close and realized with horror that he was turned on. He liked this, with Snow. It was fucked up on several levels, but he couldn’t ignore his body. “Get the fuck off me Snow.” Snow’s hand moved to pin his chest and Baz watched his expression change. There was something hungry in his blue eyes, similar to when they fought but not the same. He locked gazes with Baz. Snow’s eyes dilated as he spoke, “Make me.” Baz needed no more encouragement; he wasn’t stupid when it came to reading Snow. He whipped up and grasped Snow by the jersey. What he wanted was all kinds of disturbed but he didn’t care anymore; he licked the spit off Snow’s cheek slowly, enjoying the smoothness. Snow growled and pushed his hands up into Baz’s hair, almost ripping at it. “I fucking hate you,” Snow whispered as he smashed his mouth against Baz’s. Baz groaned and pushed Snow into the grass. He didn’t really understand why he was doing this or for that matter why Snow was doing this. But he knew that he didn’t want to stop, that this was better than throwing punches. “I fucking hate you too Snow.” Baz kissed him back with a ferocity that he usually saved for the field. Let the games begin he thought to himself.

[baz-you-numpty]

Carry On Countdown -Fifth Year

This is the first writing I’ve ever posted online and I’m sorry it’s shit, there are better things to come!

Written from Baz’s pov, basically just pining oops

—

This is getting ridiculous. It’s 3am. In the past four nights I’ve had less than twenty hours sleep combined. I close my eyes for the millionth time, knowing full well that they’ll have opened again within the the next minute.

It’s not like I’m trying not to sleep -quite the opposite. I just can’t stop thinking. My brain won’t shut up. I’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past few months, but it’s never got this bad before. I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried going for walks once Simon’s fallen asleep, but that only makes me think more and I end up wandering across the whole site, aimlessly, for hours on end and come back no less weary but a hell of a lot colder. I’ve tried listening to classical music through earbuds. I’ve even managed to blag some chamomile tea from the kitchen, but it didn’t help. It just tastes faintly like piss.

Simon rolls over in his sleep and I let out a sigh. How can he sleep so easily? How can he do everything so easily? His whole life is just one big long walk in the park. He doesn’t agonise over homework, he’s in a happy relationship, he hardly even does a thing between getting out of bed and going down to breakfast -just brushes a hand through his hair and he’s good to go.

I’d brush my hand through his hair.

Wait. What. No. It’s 3am. I’m knackered. I don’t know where that came from. I roll over, blushing despite the fact that no one could know I’d thought that. I’m now facing the window. It’s open, of course, and I realise suddenly that I’m absolutely freezing. Bloody Snow and his stupid.. stupid… argh. I don’t even know what I’m trying to think. I get up to close it, a little too quickly, and stumble slightly on my way across. It takes two attempts for it to actually shut, the rotten wood swollen bigger than its frame. I am forceful the second time round, and it slams loudly, the metal catch rattling against the glass. Snow stirs and I worry that I have woken him, before I realise that I don’t actually care. Why shouldn’t he wake up? He left it open to begin with. Stupid. And that stupid hair.

I lay on my back for a while and think about nothing. Well, I probably was thinking about something, but it wasn’t significant. I trace patterns on the sheet instead, my finger joining up creases like those dot-to-dot things I remember doing as a child. Like little constellations, I think. Like Simon’s freckles. The ones on his back are spread out enough to do an actual dot-to-dot. Spread out enough to be actual constellations.

What the fuck? I’m thinking about Simon’s moles. That’s like, the third time I’ve thought about him tonight. Then I try and remember, and I decide it’s probably actually more than three times… Does this count? Does thinking about thinking about Simon count as thinking about Simon? I laugh suddenly and unexpectedly, a sort of choke, and bury my face in my duvet so as not to wake Simon. There we go again, I think. Of course Snow doesn’t wake. He never does. Never has. All these five years of me banging around doing whatever I’ve been doing and he just snuffles through it, only turning occasionally, or flickering his eyelids.

I almost wish he would wake up. Dev tells me about how when he stays with his cousins they don’t really talk much, but they all share a room at night. He says once it passes about 2am, different rules apply. They talk about everything, he says, stuff you would never dream of telling anyone when you’re fully awake. I’ve never had a sleepover that wasn’t with him or Niall, and we did have deep conversations but I don’t think that really counts because we’re already close. I don’t need to be half asleep to talk to him. But then I start thinking. Do I? Do I tell him stuff? Real stuff? I complain about how fucked up my family is and what Snow’s up to, and, sure, when we have sleepovers we talk about stuff. Girls. We’ve talked about girls. Is that what he means? Girls? Because that’s where my problem lies. I’ve spoken to Dev about girls. Girls. Not about boys.

Would I talk to Simon about boys? If we were both tired and we reached the magical 2am and forgot our feuds, would I talk to him? It’s hard to imagine. The forgetting feuds part. I look at him. His head is laying in a pool of moonlight on his pillow and he looks like a hand tailored mannequin. Nobody is this flawless naturally: his skin looks like pearl, his hair like silk, and his features ethereal. ‘Snow.’ It’s suits him, as a name. Fun and childish and exciting, but also.. stunningly beautiful.

What the fuck, Baz. Shut up. Simon Snow isn’t fucking beautiful.

But he is. You can say that. It’s fine to be able to appreciate beauty. Dev is quite good looking.

Now you’re being stupid. Dev is not good looking.

No, Dev is good looking. He’s just not Simon Snow.

“Mmh.” My knuckles whiten as my grip on the duvet tightens. I loosen them. It’s just Snow. He’s still sleeping. Fucker.

There is silence again. I imagine shaking him awake. How is it fair that he is so asleep and I am so not? I need it more than him; he doesn’t have to worry about how well he does in lessons because he’s not battling for top against that stupid Bunce friend of his. I imagine shaking him awake and pinning him against the wall. I’m shouting at him, I don’t know what but I’m shouting something. I’m angry and I’m I’m holding Simon Snow against a wall and shouting at him and my spit is flying into his face. I’m furious and he’s not doing anything to stop me. He’s just hanging there limply and letting me do what I’m doing. He’s in my hands. I have control.

And then I stop. I look at his face, scrunched up, little flecks my my saliva mingled with freckles.

I brush them from his cheek with my thumb.

He’s staring at me. His eyes are the most penetrative ice blue I’ve ever seen. I’m staring into his eyes and I’m shivering and my thumb is still on his cheek. And suddenly his eyes are closing. His eyes are closing and his head is tilting and it’s moving towards me. Simon Snow is… going to kiss me?

“M-Bazz..” I jolt my eyes open. Simon fucking Snow is laying in his bed, as asleep as he’s ever been. I glower at him. He murmurs my name again and I nearly throw the lamp at his head.

All. I. Want. Is. To. Go. To. Sleep. You. Stupid. Fucking. Dick.

I roll over determinedly. When I close my eyes again Simon Snow does not have time to kiss me because I am banging his head against the wall. Those stupid fucking eyes flash at me. They look hurt.

Good, I think. And I throw the lamp.