#simon pov

Chucks this into the BloodyMary pile and runs

The tiny screen’s the only place I see you now, and I got nothing but well wishes for ya.

almost missed this depending on time, what even is that anyway

thank you @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @urban-sith @mostlymaudlin and @facewithoutheart heart for the tags and i think @palimpsessed from a few days ago??

I've hit a bit of a wall with my musician au, I think I have 3 chapters but somehow need to write the middle of the story - how do you do that??

Anyway here are six (6) sentences I wrote for that the other day:

All I want is to make him laugh, make him throw back his head and close his eyes and let down his guard for just a moment. In those moments, I feel something warm in my chest, something that makes my stomach do a little somersault. It makes me want to be close to him, to take his hands in mine and twirl him around and pull him into me, holding him close so he can share the warmth he sparks in me. But I don’t think he’d let me do that. He’s never initiated any kind of physical contact, and I’m not sure how to break that touch barrier. Maybe if I got him out somewhere new, away from the places where we’ve fallen into habits of being close, but not too close.

“I’d give him all that I am. 

I’d give him all that I was.

I’d open up a vein.

I’d tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber.” 

Pretty hard to de-angstify this prompt, so here’s some light, fluffy angst with a dab of humor. It’s wee, so I’ll just post the whole thing. Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer that. 

“Tonight’s the night huh?”

Baz stands in the closet, surveying his obscenely large collection of suits. “Yeah,” he says, picking a rich brown three-piece. The grief is old now. Ephemeral. An ache.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” I gather his thick black hair in my hands. It’s shot with fine streaks of sliver. I twist it into a knot, so I have full access to his neck. I kiss the grey curve. “Tell her hello for me.”

That makes him smile.

If anyone can magic their way through the maze of the veil, it’s Natasha Pitch. Waiting twenty years for a chance to see Baz again did not sit well with her. So once a year, on the anniversary of her death, she visits.

She tells Baz she loves him. Tells him he’s good. She’s so very proud. Things I tell him all the time, but it carries more weight when his mum says it.

She teases him to get a haircut. He teases her to get a life.

Laughter through tears.  

He aches to hold her.

He holds me instead.

fandom: Carry On

pairing: snowbaz 

prompt: future

(Simon pov)

***

Again

.

This place, this almost-clearing

in the woods, still smells

of smoke and ash, and

my skin is stretched from the heat,

but the air around us is cold and

Baz’s hands

are even colder.

.

A different kind of heat

rises to my face.

.

I kissed Baz.

.

And I want to do it again.

.

My head has never been so full

and so clear

all at once.

.

I look up at him,

at his dark eyes

that seem to see inside me somehow,

at his pale skin

that nearly glows in the moonlight,

and I have

no idea

how I got here.

I should be frantic,

freaking out

about the future,

about Watford

and the Humdrum

and what-will-everyone-think--

.

But right now all I can see is this boy,

this boy with his hand in mine.

.

Alright, I say.

.

He gives me a puzzled look.

.

Kiss me again, I say.

.

He sighs theatrically.

You’re impossible, Snow.

.

I grin at him. But you’re still going to

kiss me.

.

He does.

***

NaPoWriMo Day 4 || for @gingerteaonthetardis

Summary: Simon dreams about Baz.

A short fic for @carryon-countdown day 4. I’m determined to stay up to date with this event, and post something every day, so here’s a ficlet I wrote for the prompt: dreams.

...

I see Baz standing in the rain by the door into Mummer’s House. He has a pink umbrella open, protecting him from the sheets of rain. His hair is falling in perfect waves around his face, and he’s wearing jeans and a dark green coat. He looks absolutely stunning. There are gardens surrounding the edge of Mummer’s house full of red roses, dew drops coating their petals, like a sprinkling of glitter. I walk up and step under the umbrella, facing him. He takes my hand in his.

“Simon,” Baz says, “I’ve realised something.” He looks sincere, and his alluring grey eyes are locked on mine. “We match,” he finishes. And then I cup his jaw with my other hand, tilt my head up, and kiss him. It’s like the whole world stops moving forward in time, and the only person, the only thing of importance is Baz. I feel him start to kiss me back, and then I wake up.

The sunlight is starting to inch its way into our room, and I can hear Baz breathing softly across the room from me. I look at him. Calm, vulnerable, sleeping Baz. No scowl enveloping his face, no insults storming out of his mouth. He looks so peaceful, and his skin looks so soft that I want to reach out and stroke his cheek.

I’ve been having these kinds of dreams more and more often lately. They’re always Baz and I, and we always kiss. Sometimes it’s gentle, sometimes more passionate, sometimes frantic. There’s one other ever-present factor, too. I can’t get it out of my head. I think about him, about kissing him all the time. I think about him in class when he’s sitting in front of me in Greek or Elocution or Political Science. I think about how soft his lips would feel under mine when I pass him on the lawn, and how beautiful he looks with the moonlight gently touching his face when we’re in our room at night. I can’t get Baz, and the yearning to kiss him, out of my head, and I don’t know why.

“What are you looking at Snow?” Baz snarks blearily, and I’m snatched away from my thoughts. I realise I’ve been staring at him sleep, and I scramble to come up with a believable reason why, but instead just mutter, “nothing,” in a panic.

“Hmm,” his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Well, next time I’d really appreciate if you didn’t creepily watch me sleep.” I scowl at him in return.

Warnings: Idfk why I even put warnings. Literally. There is nothing bad...yet. I’m gonna ditch this until I have Actual Warnings

Word Count: 931

Chapter One//Chapter Two//Chapter Three

________________________________________________________________

Simon

I’m at breakfast with Penny when I decide to tell her about the letter. Thankfully, I memorized what it said, because I lost it at some point last night. I’m not even sure Baz gave it back. I tell her everything: How I found it, what it said, Baz’s reaction. I make sure to add that it was definitely Baz, despite what he said. Penny looks thoughtful.

“Simon. I don’t doubt Baz would do that to you. But, what if he’s telling the truth. You’re putting all the blame on him, giving a potential different person an even easier line of attack,” her voice isn’t condescending like Baz was. She’s just listing other possible scenarios. I sigh, because I know she’s right.

“But, who else would it be? No one else at Watford wants me dead. At least, I don’t think anyone does,” I chew my nails. It’s a habit that Agatha hated. She would always scold me for it. Saying it was disgusting and an embarrassment to myself. She compared it to a child who picks their nose and eats it. But, I can’t help it. When I’m nervous, I chew. Penny looks sorry for me.

“I don’t know. But, it doesn’t sound good. You need to talk to The Mage, Si,” she pulls my hand away from my mouth and holds it. If Agatha was here, she would be jealous. She doesn’t understand that this is just how my friendship with Penny is. Penny sort of has a motherly vibe to her. Not that I have a mom to compare her to. Penny’s house is filled with younger siblings that she always helps care for. I can tell she’s going to be great with her children someday...if she has any.

“I don’t even know where The Mage is Penny. It feels like he’s been avoiding me,” I pull my hand away and rake it through my hair. I don’t know what to do. It has to be Baz. There’s no one else that would threaten me like that.

___________ I’m in my History of Magick class when I find another note. I open my textbook and the paper flutters down onto my desk.

“Don’t take my messages lightly. Use the time I am giving you to say your goodbyes. I can’t allow you to stay much longer”

Of course, this is a class I have with Baz. If I needed more evidence pointing towards him, I have it now. I turn and glare at him. He sneers. I snap my head back to the letter. The only off thing about it is the fact that if Baz wrote me a letter, I’m sure he would word it in a much more threatening fashion. “Use the time I am giving you to say your goodbyes.”

It just doesn’t sound like something he would say. Maybe he has a ghostwriter. It would explain the handwriting too. That has to be it.

I try to focus on the assignment given to the class. History of Magick is one of my better subjects. I honestly enjoy it. To most mages, it’s all old stuff that they had heard of before. But, I didn’t grow up in the magical world. I missed out on all of the old myths and tales. So, hearing the history of where magick began is exciting. Today, I can’t focus. All I can think about is how I am going to get back at Baz. I need a plan.

I corner him after class.

“I get the message. You can tell your ghostwriter stop leaving me letters,” I shove him into the wall. He shoves back. “Merlin, Snow! I’m not leaving you death threats. Instead of blaming me, why don’t you go find yourself an actual suspect?”

I clench my fists. We’re drawing a crowd now.

“If you want me dead so badly. Then, just do it. Do it now, while everyone is watching. So you can take all of the credit for the death of the bloody ‘Chosen One,’” he looks so calm. He’s showing no reaction at all. His face is so stupidly perfect. I hate it. I hate him. I’m not sure I would fight back right now. If he tried to kill me. I think I would let him. I can’t imagine killing another person. I don’t think I could kill him. Can vampires even die? I would let him kill me because I don’t have a family. I was only born to save the World of Mages from the Humdrum. After that, there isn’t much use for me. Baz has a family. It may be an evil one. He may be an evil person himself. But, he’s still a person and it’s still a family.

He rolls his eyes and pushes past me. “You’re making a scene, Snow,” he mutters before walking away. He’s fucking calm. It’s infuriating. The crowd disperses at the lack of a fight. I slam my shoulder into the wall as I head to the Mages office.

He isn’t there. I’m not even surprised anymore. I skip my next class to write him a letter. I tell him all about the messages I have received, and that I know Baz is sending them. I send a pigeon to wherever he is. Most mages need an address, an exact place they want the pigeon sent to. But, my magic is strong enough. As long as I say who I want the letter delivered to, the bird will be able to find them. I’m finished just in time for my Greek class.

________________________________________________________________