#coc 2017

“Siiiimoooon. Are you coming?”

“One second, Pen.”

Simon carried a trail of still warm cinnamon rolls into the living room. His baking skills heavily improved and now he could do scones, cinnamon rolls, butterfingers and chocolate cookies.

“Yummy. Hand me one?”

He took one of the little sweet rolls for him and handed one to Penny. Then he fell down at the couch next to him. “God I am so exited, a new season Doctor Who!!”

Penny laughed. “God you are such a nerd.”

“Shut up.” But Simon smiled.

“Why isn’t your boyfriend here anyway?” Penny stuffed her mouth and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “He has family weekend. Fiona is driving him through London for some “bonding time”, as she calls it.”

“That’s sweet. I bet Baz hates it.”

“At least he pretends to do.” Simon smiled. Baz told him about it a week ago, scoffing, but he also smiled. “He packed for it like two days ago, so he can’t fool me.”

Penny laughed and Simon joined in. “Well, then we are getting some bonding time, too.”, she said.

“As if we would need it. We live together. You know me better then I know myself.” That was true. Penny knew everything, even when he lost something, she would find it. Baz always said if Penny couldn’t find it, it was lost forever. He was right.

“True. But we hardly spend any time just the tow of us the last one. With Micah visiting, and Baz always being around. Not that I have anything against that. I love that bloke, you know that, but just the two of us… it’s nice.”

“Naawww, Pen, you are so sweet.” She laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Just start the show.”

“As you wish.”

kaolihan: Cup of China 🇨🇳 2017

Gala Interview Gabriella Papadakis & Guillaume Cizeron

#gabriellapapadakisguillaumecizeron #gabriellapapadakis #guillaumecizeron #china #beijing #icedancing

ao3

CHRISTMAS PRESENTS | Under The Mistletoe

Carry On Countdown | Day 29 

Word Count | 1623 

(ok so i had an idea for a fic but it didn’t really tie into any of the prompts so i just chose one that “kinda” resembled it)

________________________________________________________________

SIMON

I don’t mean to walk under the same doorway with Baz, it just happens. I’m trying to talk him out of accusing Ebb of association with vampires, but he isn’t hearing any of it. The prat.

“Don’t- Baz-”

“I will very well go and talk to the goatherd if I please, Snow,” Baz sneers, his head whips to me and locks of his hair fall onto his face, “I don’t need your permission.”

“But-”

“Simon! Wait!” Penny’s sprinting towards us from the Cloisters, or rather, trying to sprint towards us. She keeps tripping over the snow. But whatever she has to say, it must be seriously urgent, because she’s even got her wand out.

But it’s too late.

Baz and I are frozen in place by the spell, and it all just dawns on me now.

“Arseholes,” Baz mutters through clenched teeth. He must’ve realised it, too.

Every year, there’s always a group of rebellious teenagers during Christmas holiday (mainly fourth and fifth years) who spell random doorways with Under the mistletoe! It’s quite an easy spell, even I can cast it, but it’s severely awkward. Especially if you’re walking with your roommate who’s been trying to kill you since you were eleven.

And here I am, standing underneath the mistletoe with Baz.

“I’m not kissing you,” I say, even though the spell is actively forcing my head towards his.

Baz’s face is all twisted like he’s using all his strength to restrain himself. Even though it’s a simple enough spell to cast, it isn’t an easy one to withhold from. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Penny has stopped running, and she’s standing in the middle of the Lawn.

Whatever truce we were on before has probably gone right out the window.

I put my hands on his chest and attempt to push him away from me, but that act only causes me to be closer to Baz – and touching him.

Both of which I am not comfortable with. And by the looks of it, neither is he.

BAZ

Bunce is staring at us. She’s kneeling in the snow, probably paralyzed with what’s inevitable.

So am I.

I’m was just nonchalantly bickering with Snow, and of course, I wasn’t thinking. Who can think when Simon Snow is brushing your shoulder with his?

Snow put his hands on my chest, and I can see what he was trying to do, but all he succeeded in doing was making me want to kiss him more.

I know I can’t fight the spell much longer, but I’ll be damned to hell if I have to kiss Simon Snow because of Under the mistletoe!

He’s trying not to look at me, but this spell is like Wonder Woman’s whip – every time you try to resist it, it only gets stronger.

“Fuck it,” At least I’ll always have an excuse to why I kissed Simon bloody Snow. I push his hands down from my chest and take his chin with my hand, leaning down to match his height. I don’t want to scare him (I’ve never wanted to scare him), so I gently press my lips to his and then wrench my body away from the doorway.

I stumble (my limp affecting a quarter of the reasons why I stumbled, the others being A) I just kissed Simon Snow B) I just kissed Simon Snow in front of Penelope Bunce and C) We’re going to be late for class) down the steps of the Mummers House and almost end up tripping and falling right on my ass.

I look back as Snow, and he’s still frozen as though the spell hadn’t let up yet. I look to Bunce, and her eyes are wider than her mouth. She looks as shocked as I feel.

“I could’ve spelt you away…” She whispers, and if it weren’t for my enhanced vampire ears I probably wouldn’t’ve heard her.

“We’re going to be late for Magic Words,” I say, swallowing my fear, and then swallowing it again.

Snow still hasn’t moved.

I expected Snow and Bunce to follow right behind me, but they didn’t. I didn’t see them go back upstairs to our room, either, but that’s what I assume they did.    

When I saw they weren’t coming, I decided to go to the Catacombs instead. I already know everything they’re teaching in Magic Words class, missing one day won’t affect much.

But people might talk. If neither Snow nor I show up, they could come to false conclusions.

But people will talk anyway.

I’m sitting by my mother’s grave, going over everything that happened. I’ve missed all my classes, and probably even dinner. I’ve replayed everything I did, how it must’ve looked to a bystander, to Snow, to me.

I kissed Simon Snow.

He probably hates me now, and whatever truce we were on before has probably gone right out the window, but at least I can die knowing I kissed Simon Snow.

And his face…. Like someone just betrayed him. (I suppose that is what I did, but not in the way you’d expect. More like I betrayed myself, therefore betraying him.)

   …

I hear the rustling before I see it.

Not rustling but… footsteps. Loud ones.

Coming towards me.

I would rush out of here, but with everything that happened today, nothing worse can happen than it already did.

Then, Simon Snow is standing right over me, looking devastatingly gorgeous in the dim light. His curls are scattered on his forehead, along with sweat. I would like nothing more than to kiss him again.

“What’re you doing here?” Snow manages. He keeps looking down at his hands like they’re going to combust at any second.

“You’re not going to go off, are you?” I don’t mean to be that acidic towards him.

“No. I just- I just- just-”

“Spit it out, Snow. You’d think you were trying to cast a spell.”

“Can you just-”

“No,” I say, “I just can’t.”

He looks at me, glaring, and my heart quickens. “Yes, you can just.”

“What’re you trying to say, Snow?”

He harasses his curls with his hand. “You shouldn’t’ve kissed me first.”

“I shouldn’t’ve what? I wanted to get to Magic Words, Snow, because I actually care about my studies.”

“No, I-” he heaves a breath, “I mean, you hate me. You weren’t supposed to kiss me first, because I should’ve. You would’ve only hated me more, and I’m used to that.” I suppose I see what he’s trying to say, but he’s jumbling it all up.

“It’s not like I hate you any less.” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. I could never hate him. I’ve tried, and every time I’ve failed.

“Just leave,” I say, and it comes out softer than I’ve ever talked to him before.

“You weren’t in any classes, and no one knew where you were.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“What is it, then?”

I sigh, and I’m honestly exhausted. “Nothing, Simon.”

“No, tell m- You just called me Simon.”

I did, didn’t I.

“That is your name. Would you rather me call you Snow?” I lean my head back on the wall.

“Well, no, I just- I like Simon.” He’s slowly sinking to the floor like his legs gave out on him. He’s so close to me, and I don’t trust myself like this. Vulnerable.

“Why’re you here, then, Simon?” I can feel myself swooning. It’s not beneath me. (Snow is. Always. But not right now. He’s close enough that I can reach out and touch his face, or his lips, if I want to.)

“I wanted to- Just-”

“Use your words, Simon,” I’m saying his name too much. Either that or something else, but he shoots a look at me before continuing.

“No.” He says before reaching both his hands over and grabbing onto the collar of my shirt. He stands up on his knees and then practically falls in my lap, our lips crashing together. I steady him by holding his waist, and for the first (and probably only) time in our lives, Simon Snow is taller than me. I have to reach my head up to kiss him on the mouth. (Otherwise, I’d be kissing his chin. Which I do.)

I am kissing Simon Snow.

Again.

We’re a mess of limbs. Somehow, he’s managed to be crouched over me on all fours, and I’m reaching up to his mouth.

I pull him down to me, and he bites my bottom lip.

“Snow…” I’m panting. How does one person do this to me?

He seems to compose himself (however Simon Snow composes himself, I don’t know) and just holds himself above me. I can hear his voice; it’s so quiet other than our breathing, and we’re so close.

“I liked when you kissed me,” Snow says, and his voice is gentle. “And I want to do it again.”

For the first time since I’ve met Simon Snow, I don’t have a comeback a stupid thing he’s just said.

He leans down so that his lips are brushing mine, and that I can feel his curls on my own forehead. We’ve never been this close before, not even when we’re fighting. He would never allow it.

“Simon,” I say, licking my lips, “you’re being idiotic.”

“I want to be your idiotic boyfriend,” he says, “your terrible boyfriend.”

I don’t realise my hand is slipping through his hair until he glances up at mine. He’s always drawing me in too close, and I’m always stepping too far.

I close my eyes.

I let myself indulge this one time. Indulging myself in something good. Something like Simon Snow.